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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years ago

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Hiii!! I've been following your work since the beginning and i just wanted to give u a big squeeze of a hug for blessing us with all of your fics 'cause i feel like we don't deserve u for blessing us with all these wonderful feysand content that u are sharing.

I hope all is well with ur life and in ur studies, and if it's not too much to ask, would you consider writing a feysand au where Feyre & Rhys aren't mates, but are happily in love and in a relationship--when all of a sudden, one of them meets their mate (preferably Rhys..?) or something like that 😚. Won't lie to u that im dying to know what events would play out and how Feyre would react if this scenario happened. Really no pressure to write this or anything just wanted to try my luck with this idea :DD. Thank u!

Bestie, ooof. What are you trying to do to me? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be for Feysand to be happy and in love, waiting patiently for the mating bond to snap only to find out they were star-crossed lovers all along? Well you don’t have to imagine it, because I already have. And if I’m going to be in torment over Feysand angst, I’m (affectionately) dragging you all down with me.

P.s. thank you for the submission lovely, I hope you enjoy <3

The Chains That Bind Us

Word count: 1,956

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Feyre and Rhysand were happily married. For 300 years, they had basked in what seemed like an infinite stretch of rapture, working alongside and complimenting each other with a grace and chemistry that had always felt predestined. They had always been certain they were mates, but time had flowed on and neither had felt the inkling of that special, magic bond.

They have resigned that perhaps the mating bond will never snap, perhaps that’s simply not what they were to one another, but that was okay. It was enough to be husband and wife, to be High Lord and Lady, to be happy and in love. They didn’t need a mating bond to reaffirm what they felt for one another. Things were already perfect as they were.

Until they weren’t. Until they had journeyed together to Illyria to oversee the announcement of the first all-female battalion. It had been a long term goal of Rhysand and his brothers to finally battle back the long ingrained sexism of Illyrian culture, and the visit was meant to be a celebration. A liberating ceremony, in honor of their mothers and all the females who had been victims of prejudice.

But when the leader of the battalion stepped forward to be acknowledged for her accomplishments, Rhysand had gone rigid at Feyre’s side, his breathing suddenly ragged. His pupils were blown wide, eyes fixed, riveted to the female.

Feyre felt her whole world had imploded in that moment. Especially when that female’s eyes had met her High Lord’s and had frozen just the same, the two bearing matched expressions of awe and disbelief.

She was certain she was going to be sick. Such a thing would be far from befitting of a High Lady, so Feyre had immediately winnowed back to their River House, back into their bathroom where she was instantly emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Rhysand was there not too long after, holding back Feyre’s hair. They said nothing to each other, not until Feyre had recovered enough to turn and face her husband.

She was entirely unprepared for the way her heart shattered to meet his face, to meet those lovely eyes she had loved for centuries. Eyes that had only moments before been staring at another female with so much blind devotion it had torn her open.

“Feyre—” he started.

“I suppose we should have assumed that something like this could happen,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. Not for something like this, something that was entirely out of either of their control.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, but there was a strain to his voice that had never been present before. A bite that Feyre was convinced was the result of Rhysand battling against his instincts to return to Illyria, to that female.

“It changes everything, Rhys.”

She was already weeping as she choked the words out, because speaking them made them true. Those few centuries of bliss between them, they were a bubble, a perfectly crafted delusion that had finally popped.

“I love you,” Rhys seethed, as though arguing with himself. “I don’t even know that females name—”

“It doesn’t matter, Rhys. She’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice a broken rasp. “Please, don’t say it.”

Somehow, that made it impossibly worse. That Rhys had been gifted this incredible, Cauldron-blessed thing, but was scorning it for her sake. Most Fae dreamed of the moment their mating bond would snap, and here was her husband acting as if it was his worst nightmare.

But Feyre knew what it was like for males. She knew he was clawing against every instinct in his mind, screaming at him to go to his mate, to know her name, to claim her. Feyre stifled another sob. Rejected mating bonds could drive a male mad. How could she ever think to do that to him? How could she deny him this piece of himself?

What broke her heart more than anything is that Feyre knew he would. Rhysand would reject his bond, would let that intrinsic part of his soul be torn away, for her sake. If Feyre asked, he would stay. He would stay and be miserable.

“I can’t do this to you, Rhys. I can’t force you to stay with me out of duty. I will not be your jailor.”

“You are my wife,” Rhys choked, reaching for her hand. He drew her palms to his face, allowing her to caress his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he nuzzled into her touch, causing his unshed tears to fall, racing down to collect at her hands. “You are my High Lady. You are the only one I want to be with.”

That wrecked another sob through Feyre’s body, which came out as a harsh exhale as she tried to restrain it. “You’d be a broken male without her, Rhys. The Cauldron—” she sucked in a strangled breath. Some truths were just too difficult to confront— “The Cauldron didn’t intend for us to be together.”

“Damn the Cauldron,” he growled, reaching for her with newfound conviction. “No one and nothing can decide who I love. No one can tell me that you are not who I belong with—who I belong to.”

Feyre allowed him to bundle her in his arms, to press her fiercely against his chest. She knew moments like this were fleeting, where they could hold each other as husband and wife. Already, their love was tarnished. Tainted. Blood spilled onto white snow. How long would it take for this mating bond to seep, to spill into the cracks, to spread until it consumed them? She couldn’t see an outcome where they could stay together unblemished, where they wouldn’t come to resent one another.

“Rhysand, listen to me love,” Feyre said, and found that her voice was steadier than she anticipated. “I care more about you being happy than I care about that happiness being found with me. Do you understand?”

“I would not be happier without you, Feyre.” His voice was ripe with earnesty. When she turned those eyes to meet his, those violet depths were burning, the silver constellations completely eclipsed by molten amethyst. He swallowed thickly. “Do I… want that female? Yes.” Feyre cringed to hear her husband admit it outloud. “But, that is just my instincts. I will be able to manage them with time. This bond is nascent. My love for you? It’s endured for centuries. The cauldron is not faultless; my parents were mates and they were miserable together. I could never imagine someone so perfect to walk beside me as you, Feyre. I do not seek another, no matter what fate has to say for it.”

Feyre allowed the comfort of his words to wash over her. She rested her head against Rhysand’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, letting herself lavish in the rhythm of him, the beat of his heart steady in his chest.

“I will understand if you change your mind,” she whispered. “I do not hold you to your vows. If you become unhappy, if one day you cannot resist the pull you feel towards her… I will not hold it against you. I give you permission to… to leave me.”

Rhys let out a small, rueful laugh before he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “How could I desert a love that is so selfless? The least I could do in the wake of such a declaration is promise to never see that female again.”

Feyre shook her head emphatically. “Don’t promise me that, Rhys. Just—just promise me that we’ll always be honest with each other. That we’ll always be a team, whether it be as rulers, or as lovers, or… or just as friends.”

“I promise,” he swore. “I vowed on my court and crown that I will love you for eternity. And I still know that to be true, even now. My soul… it might belong to someone else. But my heart, Feyre, it will always belong to you.”

There was something irreparably changed between them. They both knew it, could sense the way it lingered between them. The first crack, and possibly not the last. What they had was fragile now, but they had a gift for being delicate with one another.

The silence hung between them, a wretched, discomfiting presence that had never been there before. Both not quite sure what to say, not quite sure where this put them. She watched Rhysand’s lower lip quiver, understood that it was from the strain of not burdening her with his own turmoil over the situation.

Feyre tutted as she threw her arms around him, recognizing the signs of his crumbling. Rhys bowed his head in shame, burying his face into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against her, releasing a sob of his own. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you. I wanted it to be you. I’m a failure of a husband, for putting you through this.”

“You are an excellent husband,” Feyre protested, threading her fingers through his hair soothingly. Her voice was still raw. “I don’t blame you for this, Rhys. I love you just the same.”

He lifted his head so their tear-stained faces were level. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, still glistening in silver. “What do we do now?”

They clung to each other so tightly, as if they pressed hard enough they could redirect fate, could mold their souls together and correct the misdeed of the Cauldron.

“I don’t know,” Feyre answered, burying her face in his shoulder as if it would hide her from the truth of the world. “I suppose we have no choice but to keep going. We’ll find our footing again. Together. And if we don’t… well, maybe we can wish on the stars.”

There was a huff of air at her ear. A laugh, she guessed, or something like it, something wry and humorless. Rhys moved underneath her, and Feyre pulled away to watch in confusion as her husband rose to his feet.

He extended his hand towards her. Curious, Feyre accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. In a blink, they were on the rooftop, beneath the stars. She hadn’t even realized the sun had set until she was staring up at the impossibly bright cosmos.

“Where better to find our footing than under those very stars?”

She turned to him, and Rhys was staring at her the way he had on starfall, all those centuries ago. Staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the sky, as though he looked to Feyre to cast his wishes.

“Will you dance with me, wife?”

Not convinced she was capable of speech, Feyre nodded. Using the hand he still held, Rhys twirled her into his arms. And though no music played, they found their own rhythm, lost in the cadence of each other, spinning endlessly under the stars.

As they swayed under the endless expanse of sky and starlight, Feyre mused how even the brightest of stars eventually burned out, but that didn’t make them any less worth wishing on. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth fighting for.

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#ask #prompt request #feysand #acotar #feysand fic #acotar fic #pro feyre #pro rhys #angst galore #bittersweet as heck #acotar fanfiction

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ignisnocturnalia · 4 years ago

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I think I've figured out how I want to write these (Exposition/mini story, when relationship is established HCs actually start) based on a previous statement I made, also ANOTHER REQUEST! All headcanons are placed at the back of the story part. Let's get this ball rolling!

Crow x Reader

"Now, if he ever flies too far from the nest?" Spider leans forward, "Boom." Your stomach made a flip at the kingpin's explanation, and you've never been more uncomfortable to have your Ghost out in the open. Some part of your mind is saying 'Who cares? That's the man that killed Cayde', but another half is saying 'He has no idea. It isn't fair to judge him for something he can't remember'.

That meeting had happened an hour ago and you couldn't get his dumb gray face out of your head. He looked so.. sad. Regardless, having a Ghost rigged with explosives did not sit right with you at all. Spider wanted you to help him with his Wrathborn problem? Sure, alright. When all of this was over, you knew exactly what you wanted your payment to be.

One large change about the new light that you've found impossible to ignore is diminutive he is. His commentary after successful hunts and small chats after a lure upgrade is administered are curt. Even more surprising is his willingness to present mercy to the corrupted Fallen. He is nothing like Uldren.

Acknowledging this division between his past and present self is when you start to realize that you like working with him. A lot. Probably more than just work, but will you admit it? No. Besides, you tell yourself, he really doesn't look like he's searching for a relationship while figuring himself out.

Petra often asks why you've taken to visiting the Tangled Shore so frequently now, and everytime you scramble to spit out an answer, something stupid like "Spider has a good deal running right now". In some part, it's true, since when you're not hunting Wrathborn you're showing Crow how to do Guardian stuff and explaining Last City life to him. His calm and curious demeanor is extremely cute, and the velvet sound of his voice does not help.

When Spider has both of you run point on a mission you always look to the rafters of the building to try and see him or listen for his steps. He's annoyingly good at stealth. The only time you ever had to be stealthy was in the Gorgon's lair and the Pleasure Gardens. You wish you could speak to him unfiltered; if Spider ever discovered your crush he wouldn't let you hear or see the end of it.

As the months dragged on and you came closer to catching the High Celebrant, you caught yourself anxiously wondering what lie at the end of it all. What if Spider didn't let you take him? And if he did, would Crow stay with you or do his own thing? Greedy little thoughts ran through your head as you thought of all the times you shared together, both of you visibly happy in your eyes.

As much as you'd like to live a runaway life with him and hope he felt the same, you knew it was wrong. He'd get restless, and you'd start fighting. Whatever he chose to do, is what you would let him do. Osiris has taken notice of your feelings, and the knowing glances he gives when no one else is looking sets your face on fire, acting like he doesn't have a thing for Saint always writing those letters when he's on death's doorstep; dramatic is what you say.

Soon enough, all of your close friends can tell you like someone, but they simply can't figure out who. Ironically, the day you work up enough courage to ask him to be your partner is the same day he pins the location of the High Celebrant. The morning is tense, and just getting ready for the big fight is sending energy through your body. Crow, on the other hand, seems much more grim. It makes sense, really; you're the one who's been slaying gods over the years.

You're guard is quickly brought up when Spider summons you for a talk in the main room. You listen to his next words with a fierce intensity.

"Do not let him so close, or spoil him with pretty dreams. Kill the High Celebrant. Break Xivu Arath's hold over my Shore, and you can claim any prise in my lair as your reward. You'll have earned it."

Hiding a smile, you nod and make your way to disembark on your mission; looks like you won't have to ask.

The Dreaming City was as mystical as ever, and you vaguely wondered if Petra had seen you come in. Making quick work of the scarce Hive, you found yourself in Harbinger's Seclude. The massive Cryptolith was impossible to miss, and a full body shiver racked you as you approached it. This was it.

Stabbing the lure into the roots, Crow's voice filled your comm channel.

"Ha! Tagged it! It's bleeding energy and on its way back to you." Your heart jumped at his excited tone. Nobody had any business being that cute. The trademark screech of a Hive portal drowned out all noise, and your next big fight ensued.

The next period of time was spent chasing the Celebrant through realms, until, that is, it sealed the last portal. Osiris had given weak condolences, but you weren't going to give up on Crow. Not today! The blight high above you twinkled teasingly as frustrated tears swam over your eyes as you attempted scrambling up the large Awoken statue, just barely missing the hand and falling back to the ground uselessly.

The silence was becoming overwhelming, deafening, even. Osiris continued to tell you to return to fight another day, but he was too important for you to just leave behind.

"Maybe there's enough Hive magic left in the lure to find another way through!" For once, your Ghost didn't parrot the obvious; you almost wanted to kiss him. Turning around with a new fire, you thrusted your lure into the crystalline floor over the last trace of the High Celebrant's blood. Sure enough, platforms much like those of the Dreadnaught revealed themselves over the edge of the bridge.

You wasted no time, racing over every gap and closing in on the blight. Palpitations overtook your heart when Crow's voice returned to the feed, spewing some kind of death message. Death wouldn't take him. Especially not if you had anything to say about it.

Jumping through the portal, you recognize the bitter feelings of anguish. This is exactly how you felt when Sundance's light washed over the Prison of Elders. Not again.

By the time you see the High Celebrant, all you're seeing is red. Faintly, you remember how Drifter said the Hive in the system were scared of you; good. They should be.

Bullets fly and the ether sings with each corrupted Fallen whose head flies by your gun. If you weren't so pressed for time, you would've strangled the Wizard that had your sought after stolen Light. Standing in the pool of green magic, you turn a furious glare on to the Celebrant and unload your heavy straight into its bony head. Something inside of you lurched in desperation to finish the kill when it summons a portal, trying to make for a retreat and trapping you at the center of the room.

"Crow! The portal!"

"I see it! Now finish it!" Just as he says those words, the trap falls and the portal across the room implodes, sending the High Celebrant to its knees. Your body erupts with power as you descend upon the Hive that killed Sagira and nearly killed Crow, sending it off with your super into the abyss.

Heaving a sigh, your brain finally has a chance to clear with no more present danger. In fact, your chest swells with affection as your Ghost confidently speaks of his trust in Crow followed by his reply.

"It's been an honor, Guardian."

Finally leaving the location, Celebrant head included, you decide to sleep on your short trip back. Your Ghost wakes you up before you land, and when you transmat your eyes immediately fall on Crow, who is safe and sound. Behind your helmet, you smile wearily at the former prince.

The moment you step into the Spider's lair, the air is thick with tension. You can tell the kingpin is pleased to have the Shore cleansed of Hive corruption, but also upset that he has to give up one of his prizes.

"It's done." You say firmly.

"So it is... so it is," he leans forward in his seat with a leer, "All right, Guardian. As promised, you can have a prized bauble from my lair as compensation for your... heroics." The last word rolls off his tongue with a quiet distaste, and you have no problem returning the feeling.

"I want... him." Jerking your head in Crow's direction, you can feel the energy crack through the room.

"Cute. Real funny." Your brows crease in impatience at his dismissive snicker.

"You said anything in the room." You do your best to keep your eyes off of Crow; a distraction now could be bad news. Spider lets out a terrible laugh as his guards step forward, readying their spears.

"Oh... You really want my little bird," he puts an uncomfortable amount of importance on the words "really want", "Fine. You can have him." The large Fallen turns his gaze to Crow, mockingly waving his arm upward.

"Fly away," he looks back down at you, "and get the hell out of my lair."

No further instruction is needed as you and Crow make your leave. As you exit the safehouse, both Glint and your Ghost come out.

"Now what?" Glint looks to Crow for an answer. The reality of the event settles on the Awoken, and he looks at you in a way he hasn't before.

"Why would you do this for us?"

As a formality, you've never taken off your helmet around Crow. He'd never seen, or even had an idea about your face, until... now. The tear streaks from the mission are still on your face, slightly visible in the dim light. Walking over to him, you slowly bring your eyes up to his. He doesn't move away, but you do notice with a flash of hope that a blush is starting to grace his cheeks at your proximity. Clenching your eyes shut, you close the gap between you two and press a kiss to his lips.

He freezes for a moment before placing his hands on your shoulders, and you pull back afraid that you've just made the wrong move.

"I... uh." His eyes dart here and there before settling back on yours. His face straightens out, and then he hesitantly leans forward into your range again. This time, he's the one kissing you.

Both of you leave the Tangled Shore together.

Relationship HCs

He never fails to pick you up during your special brand of greeting, which is running straight at him and jumping into his arms. You even do the little spin around like those movie couples

He's okay with subtle PDA like handholding, but nothing too extreme such as kissing in front of others; he prefers to keep more intimate moments between you and him

Surprisingly eager for cuddles with you at the end of the day

He will let you indulge yourself by doing stupid things every once in a while, like seeing how much whipped cream you can put in his mouth before he can't take anymore

There are times when you just talk about random stuff because he knows you like the sound of his voice

He usually has to calm you down whenever another Guardian stares too long. You see it as a threat, and you're ready to defend your glowing boyfriend with your life

When you're not busy with Vanguard tasks, you're bringing him to the planets that weren't swallowed by the Darkness and showing him the layout, along with whatever endemic life is present

He becomes enamored with Earth's crows, which you had expected

Whenever he has visions of his past, he'll tell you and you do your best to fill in with rudimentary details such as location or time; you hope he never remembers the moment when you had to kill him

You especially love playing with his hair, it's nearly softer than silk and you are intrigued by the white streaks at the front of his cut

Both of you will decide to sit down every once in a while and just touch each other's face; you prefer running your hands along his jawline and cheekbones while he'll brush just under your eyes and along your temples

Dates can range from a quiet, romantic dinner to hunting down large and difficult quarry

Whenever you find a Golden Age waltz piece, you bring it to him and give it a listen; these sessions always end with you two dancing and swaying with each other

Truly, a couple of many talents

NSFW 👁👄👁

The first time you get anywhere close to the act he's so unsure of himself you both stop and instead explore each other at the surface level

No matter how many times he sees you nude his face is a blushing mess everytime

The first few times you take the lead, but once you both get over the fact that you've exchanged pleasantries he's the one who figures out he likes to be dominant in bed

He's vocal to an extent, mostly heavy breathing/moaning and grunts to let you know exactly how good you feel

He's super into bondage (who would've known?) whenever you're the one tying him up

He always prefers the ability to see your face, and whether it's because he can see your face contort in pleasure or because he can lock with you in a heated kiss, you can't tell

His sides are usually ticklish, but they act more like erogenous zones when both of you are deep into it

He starts out rough since he isn't used to this kind of activity at all, but over time he finds a balance between being gentle and absolutely blowing your back out

He's likely to caress your arms and waist the whole time to add another sensitive layer to your already overstimulated body

He also likes draping his body over yours, and with how hot his chest is and the press of his lower body? You're not arguing

Once you finish, he either goes straight to sleep while huddling against you or you convince him to get up so you can shower together

I have 2 asks for Drifter HCs, but I'm implementing a personal/request system so I can keep my monsterfucker train going. The next HCs I'm releasing are for Nokris, then I'll do Drifter HCs, and for now my last personal writing will be for Ghaul

#destiny 2 #relationship headcanon #crow x reader #destiny spider #osiris #saint 14 #cayde6 #uldren sov #destiny crow #petra venj #xivu arath

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taurnachardhin · 4 years ago

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I got to "Legends of the Lasat" today in my Rebels rewatch and I'm just like....what's the emotion I'm feeling? Like not mad, but puzzled, maybe? A little amused but also a tiny bit frustrated? All because of how many wildly intriguing ideas about Zeb and his history were introduced in this episode and then never explained or expanded on in any way! I mean like as a fanfic writer, I love it, because it's a fun challenge to piece together a cohesive backstory for characters who don't really have much canon info to work with, not to mention it gives me license to be as self-indulgent in my headcanons as I please.

But as a fan of the character, I'm just sitting here like, ok but what was that "I know who SHE is" line about, like why did he have beef with Chava? What did she do in his past that he was so pissed about? Just what exactly did it mean that Zeb was Captain of the High Honor Guard--was he A captain or was he THE captain? And just HOW big a deal was that, because when Gron first spots Zeb, he says, "It is him!" and Chava says "the prophecy!" and then they BOW to him (and Zeb is visibly uncomfortable and irritated by their behavior, but he's NOT surprised), and hey, Filoni??? Are you not going to expand on this implication that Zeb was already regarded as some kind of Chosen One figure when he was young? Also like, in this episode, Zeb uses the Force to:

Identify the location of a planet he's never been to in uncharted space (and only 3 episodes after Ezra basically does the same thing to identify Ryder Azadi's prisoner file, not to mention it's also how they located the Jedi temple on Lothal, so there is no question that he is doing A Jedi Thing there)

Create a protective field around a spaceship that causes shots fired from a Star Destroyer to veer harmlessly away from it AND allows it to fly through an imploded star cluster unscathed

Activates the hyperdrive and navigates through hyperspace with his MIND

And this show is like "we will never again acknowledge that Zeb is Force-sensitive and he will never again use his bo-rifle as anything other than a weapon" and I'm just screaming a little bit, like, what happened?? Did everyone just forget that Zeb turned out to have some pretty insane superpowers? At the very least, it seems like being able to make the Ghost invulnerable would have been a trick worth repeating but I guess not?? It's just wild! I can only assume that everyone's mind was so blown by what they saw that they simply could not contain the information in their brains. And I guess everyone did pass out a little bit before they arrived at Lira San, so maybe they actually literally all have amnesia. I am just gently baffled by the whole thing, there, that's the emotion I'm settling on.

#it's def in my all-time favorite episodes but it truly is strange that everyone seems to forget that they all saw zeb Do That #garazeb orrelios #star wars #sw rebels #sw junk box

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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

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Stronger Than Blood (5)

Chapter 5: New Recruit | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage

Also tagging @ayamenimthiriel

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The view of the city in the distance was new yet nostalgic to you.

You can’t remember the last time you saw the city in this point of view.

Both of you dismounted the speeders, you spotted Cal’s slightly troubled look, probably on what to do with these speeders.

“We can keep it, you know. It’s not like we’ll have someone to return it to anyway,” you casually suggested.

“The Mantis doesn’t exactly have a compartment for speeders,”

“Oh, that’s right,” you grumbled, somewhat disappointed that these were the bigger type of speeders, not the compact ones that can be brought along in ships.

With the Mantis up close, you had to step back to emphasize its size—the dorsal fin did its job is making it look bigger—and you told yourself it was a beautiful ship, past the damages of course.

Cal sighed in frustration, putting his hands on his waist as he strode towards the Mantis. He was replied with a smug chuckle from you, he turned around to see that the exact part was resting in your grasp, held up in mid-air for him to see.

“You sure about that?” you chirped.

His mouth was left agape, one corner of his mouth curling up in an impressed smile, and strode back to you. His memory brings him back to the moment where that strong energy wave—which he had no doubt was the Force—that imploded from you; meanwhile, you were there with the casual façade, failing to mask the fact that you revealed your true nature compulsively minutes ago.

Cal thought it was wise not to bring it up yet.

Later. He thought.

“Wait, what about the other parts? The suspension coil? The landing gear ligament?”

You chuckled again, you unfurled your poncho to reveal a bag slung across your back. “Well, it’s a funny coincidence I had the foresight to bring a bag with everything in it—or maybe that’s just the errand girl in me with the habit of bringing a bag anywhere, all thanks to Tundu.”

“Huh, smart girl,”

A part of Cal guessed that the Force may have guided you, in one way or another, to have such a foresight; but he didn’t doubt your habit and intuition altogether. It’s just with the way you demonstrated such raw power, he was beginning to think of all the possibilities that had to do with you and the Force.

“Oh, I guess I should let you meet my crew,”

Suddenly, your visage shifted from the perky, confident mechanic to a shying violet. Meeting new people was a bit difficult for you, especially with your nature and capabilities, and being attached to people you’re interacting with was a struggling balance between fear and desire. You tried to relax, thought of the things you could and would say to them, and what things you should try to keep from them for the time being.

The Mantis’s ramp unfolded and Cal beckoned you when the incline still hasn’t touched the soil. You followed him into the interior of the ship. It was cramped, the space could be half of a smuggler’s freighter, but the sight of the plants made you smile, it’s not every day you see a ship with flowers as decorations. You continued to survey the interior as Cal searched for his crewmates. On your left, you found the holotable and tried to guess the planets that were flashed on the hologram from the center of the ship—where you stand. To the other side, you found the galley and lounge, where the terrarium is.

You approached the potted red flower across the lounge table, your fingers felt for the petals—they ran smooth against the satin-like texture and you nestled it over your fingertips.

“Cere, Greez! This is [y/n], she’s gonna be our extra set of hands in patching up the Mantis,”

“Well now, I hope he didn’t cause you any trouble to hire you,” Cere added.

“Not really,” you shake your head while you spoke in a casual, melodic tone.

Oh lady, if only you knew. You screamed in your head while flashing a friendly but awkwardly smile, the same as Cal.

Greez didn’t mean to offend, but he pointed out your age and that you’re practically as young as Cal, he actually expected someone older.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I mean well. But I just don’t think you know the gravity of the damage you’re gonna have to fix—along with us fixing the ship too, of course,”

As a rebuttal, you squinted your eyes and slowly nodded. The desire to prove this stout, gray creature wrong burned hot in your bloodstreams—in a healthier and better way, compared to the bloodlust you had earlier.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with enough ships to know what I’m doing. I think I can make it work,” you pursed your lips, hinting the confidence of your craft. “Just lend me some power tools, I guess?”

“We have a trunk of it that you can use,”

“Great,” you grinned. You clapped your hands. “So, where do I start?”

Having left with no choice, Greez finally caved to having a young mechanic as their extra set of helping hands. He made himself feel better by grumbling consolations under his breath as he marched to the storage compartment to fetch the tools.

He stopped in his tracks and wagged his two pointer fingers in your direction, but mostly towards you, “Do not put a scratch on her.”

“Not even a hairline,” you jokingly raised your hands in a surrendering position as you assured him.

“Okay good,” he murmured and continued to the storage.

It didn’t take long for Greez to come back out from the storage while carrying the trunk of tools. He split up the jobs for each part of the ship, he volunteered to replace the landing gear ligament and suspension coil while you were told to work on the hyperdrive compressor—and Greez personally asked Cal to keep an eye on you while he helps you.

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll be careful with your beauty here,”

“Yeah, she’s a beauty alright! And I hope you don’t make her ugly,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

Just from the smell, you went ahead into the engine room, scaling down the thin ladder over the banister to find the damaged hyperdrive compressor. The smoke may have cleared but the odor of the cooked machinery was still harsh on the nose. From your bag, you fished out a protective mask and goggles and put them on before beginning your work.

Cal was jumping between checking on you and helping Greez, but mostly he spent his time doing the latter—since the Lateron couldn’t reach certain parts of the landing gear. You wagered the entire service would last for a few hours—given the patchwork and then the testing, and the possible redo of the repairs in case anything goes wrong—but this didn’t make you flinch not one bit. Tundu taught you well enough to know more than what goes in and out of a ship. This was the last favor that you could do to honor his name.

As you worked, your mind dwelled on what could have happened to him, the reality that he might be dead minutes after you fled was a hard pill to swallow. The sparks that spewed out of the broken compressor as you tore it off reminded you of the blinding blaster projectiles that ricocheted back and forth in the store. You tighten your grip every once in a while whenever the sensation of the Force swirls across the nerves of your palm and fingers. Only now did it sink into you that Cal witnessed you wield it—in the same way someone you once knew did.

“Hey, [y/n]?” the call of your name made you flinch. You pull away your mask and goggles to acknowledge Cal. “We’re almost done with the landing gear. Do you need some help with that?”

“Oh, I…” you stammered. “I’m okay on my own. Thanks for checking.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

“Well, call me if you need anything,”

You nodded, promptly wearing back your protective gear and continued with your work. As you swiftly turned your back against him, Cal didn’t actually leave the room, he only took a step back and made a sound against the metal floor. He knew that he shouldn’t disturb you, but the skirmish back at the store significantly intrigued him. He timed the apparent moment where you would pause from welding, he sucked air and said your name again.

“I… um… Is it okay if we talk later—after all this?”

Your eyebrows slightly pulled and softly nodded; you sensed the thought that bothered him, a part of you already knows what he wanted to talk about but you dismissed the thought. You continued your work anyway.

The new compressor fits like a glove. You scaled over the railing and left the room to look for Greez and Cal. They just entered the ship almost at the same time as you left the engine room, Cal met your eyes while he wipes the black oil from his one, bare hand.

“The compressor’s fit now,” you gestured at the engine room with you thumb over your shoulder. “Next thing to do is test her out.”

“Alrighty then! As soon as we get off this moon, the better! I’ll fire her up,” the Lateron captain waddled towards the cockpit, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his jacket sleeve.

Cal walked up to you, hurriedly tucking his wiping rag into the back pocket of his pants.

“So, I know this is gonna sound weird or very abrupt—or both—but, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he stammered. “It’s about that… thing back in the city. You know, starting off with the part at Melgu’s shack.”

I knew it. You thought to yourself, but you didn’t say it in spite. You simply saw it coming.

“About that, I—”

“Oi, c’mere, you two!”

You were cut off by Greez summoning the two of you to get to the cockpit. You lightly tapped his chest, your knuckles knocking against the leather armor, as you walked ahead of him to the front; he rolled his eyes and promised himself to bring it up again later.

Upon stepping into the cockpit, you were met with screens from all sides—front, left, and right. They all flashed so continuously that they almost looked like starlight if you squint your eyes. Greez pointed to the monitor on the upper dashboard, where your eyes followed.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“The new compressor is still trying to integrate with the ship’s main power grid,” you explained.

“Yeah, that’s right, I knew that,” the captain shrugged.

Greez checked the monitors again, he looked at the same screen where the diagnostics of the hyperdrive compressor reflected. It was now blinking green, the computer flashed the details of the compressor’s status.

“Well, one thing’s for sure, the Mantis likes the new toy,”

You smiled to yourself. Satisfied with a job well done.

“How long until we take off safely with the new compressor, captain?” Cere interjected.

“I’m prepping her up already, approximately twenty minutes,” Greez replied.

Cal stole a glimpse of you, still smiling to celebrate your successful handiwork on the Mantis, but he watched that smile melt away and you turn back without even looking at him. He caught up to you in the lounge, collecting your bag and cloak that you dumped onto the sofa.

“Wait,”

You erected from your hunched posture to the sound of your name.

“Where will you go?”

You exhaled bitterly, thinking of the right words while planning your new life at the same time.

“I got nowhere else to go. This was the only home I’ve ever known, ” you cracked, fiddling with the cracked leather of your mechanic’s gloves. You dug your nails into the chipping material to fight back tears—remembering that you’ve lost your home to that Quarren scumbag and his men. No use in going back to your original home planet either.

“Why not stay with us?”

You jerk your head to Cal, startled by the sudden offer.

“We could use a good mechanic like you,” he added.

Color flushed and burned your cheeks. You averted your gaze from Cal to your things and pretended to rummage your bag for things you might haven’t packed yet.

Look at yourself, you bumbling mess! You scolded yourself as you blindly pawed through your bag. Quit the bag act—he’s not buying it!

“I… I’d love to stay but…”

“But?” Cal hummed.

He’s got you there, you don’t have a follow up for that. When he sensed that you were worried about warming up to his crewmates, he assured you that they know you mean well—your heart skipped a beat for various reasons, both good and bad—and it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra in the headcount.

“You’re really sure?”

“Of course,” Cere politely and warmly cuts in, even though the question was for Cal. “We take Cal’s word on it, but you have to earn our trust.”

“I have no problem with that,” even though you technically do, with your capability as a Force-sensitive, they’re bound to know sooner or later—you’re already mentally planning it in your mind when to tell them, or at least prepare yourself once they bring it up.

You actually enjoyed the warmth that this crew exuded, even with all their eyes on you, not once did it feel like they’re harshly piercing into your soul—rather, it felt like they were hugging you with their gazes. It was so nice, too nice in fact that it almost made you tear up. With a hopeful, deep breath, you shake your hand on it and joined the crew.

“Welcome aboard, [y/n]!” Cal beamed as he returned your handshake. At this point, you didn’t care anymore if he saw the pink hue burning in your cheeks.

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handball-tatsumichi · 4 years ago

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I took Rep’s test an’ here are my results!!! I think they’re real fittin’!!! I hate fightin’ an stuff!!!

Primary Type Wiring

Starring Roles

Mediator, Peacekeeper, Diplomat, Pleasant Person, Modest Person, Humble Person, Pacifist

TrueType Wiring

9-7-2

Personality Type

The Peacemaker

Instinctual Wiring

Social

Instinctual Stack

Social, Intimate, Self-Preserving

Overview

You are an easy-going, kind, and accepting person who strives to be in harmony by accommodating and supporting what is essential to others. Your gift for seeing many sides of an issue enables you to mediate differences and bring peace to people around you.

On the other hand, your desire to remain comfortable and “ok” can cause complacency, inactivity, and difficulty making and voicing personal decisions. Your keys to growth include seeing that your opinions, needs and desires are just as valid as anyone else’s, and taking a stand for your own preferences in the present moment.

What You are Great At

Coming forward to mediate when people are in conflict.

Being accepting, trusting, all-embracing, and receptive.

Being creative, fanciful, and entertaining.

Being optimistic, unflappable, adaptable and steady.

Good listener, making everyone feel honored.

Seeing and supporting others’ perspectives and points of view.

Bringing about harmony, wholeness, and connection.

Finding points of agreement and achieving unity with others.

Being supremely unselfish and working hard for a good cause and to keep peace.

Being good-natured, kind, friendly, sweet, innocent.

Bringing a healing and calming influence to others.

Being humble, unpretentious, genuine, trusting, simple, likable.

Core Wiring

You want to be peaceful, relaxed, comfortable and natural; but most importantly, you want to be agreeable and avoid conflict at all costs. You are a nice person and go along to get along. You want harmonious relationships.

You are very receptive and a good listener. You are patient and prefer to take your time in whatever you do. You may have problems with inaction.

Under stress, you may be passive-aggressive, neglectful, unresponsive, and indifferent to the needs of others. At your best, you are steady, kind, accepting, and possessive of the universal connectedness necessary to restore harmony.

What Drives You

Driven by core fears of loss and separation from others, you seek to achieve feelings of wholeness, union, inner stability, and peace of mind. You are highly motivated by what you don’t want-- which is conflict, tension, disharmony, disagreement, pressure, discomfort or complications with others. Striving to create a harmonious, stable, peaceful and comfortable environment, you minimize your own needs and try to create and maintain trouble-free relationships.

Inner World of Type 9

Core Fears

Your core fears are related to loss, separation and being overlooked which can lead to a fear of being “loveless”- both because your feel others might ignore or neglect you, and because you might shut yourself off to such a degree that you can no longer feel love or let it in. You might start to feel unimportant, or less valuable relative to others-- especially if others around you are strong, dramatic, needy, or demanding.

This leads to your conflict avoidance. You also fear complication because when things are complicated, more things can go wrong which can cause discord and disharmony, which is uncomfortable.

Core Desires

To be comfortable, harmonious, peaceful, whole, complete, and feeling at-ease with others.

Core Needs

You need simplicity, harmony, and the appreciation of others. Because you are highly empathetic, you need to know that the people around you are relaxed to relax, yourself. To truly be at-ease, you need your creature comforts and are likely unwilling go without them. Publicly, you may go along to get along, but when in private you make sure that you have what makes you feel happy and comfortable.

Core Beliefs

The world, people and situations can be demanding and divisive. In most situations, it is best to avoid conflict and look for middle ground rather than to take a solid stance: that might create problems and disrupt my peace. Everything will work out if I stay calm, amiable, and connected.

Likes

Agreement, peace and harmony.

Unity, merger, and togetherness.

Comfort and ease.

Being in intimate relationship.

Distractions (e.g., romance novels, college football, social media).

Connection.

Feeling included, loved and accepted as you are.

Familiar routines and activities with clear structure.

Holding many sides of an issue open.

Reflecting, musing, and considering things.

Having your position acknowledged.

Satisfaction in accomplishments and jobs well done.

Dislikes

Conflict, confrontation, and disagreement.

Anger and disturbance.

Change, making personal decisions, saying “no”.

Separation.

Independence.

Feeling discounted or overlooked.

Being forced to take sides on an issue.

Unknown, unfamiliar, or unpredictable situations.

Emotional intensity, controversy, drama, chaos.

Having your opinion or position opposed.

Loneliness, ending a relationship.

Discomfort, looming deadlines.

Outer World of Type 9

Strategies

You seek to avoid conflict, asserting yourself, or taking a stand. You "go along to get along," sublimating your own needs and preferences to create a sense of peace and harmony.

Impact of Strategies

When there is no pressure, conflict or discomfort, you have neither deadlines nor demands. For you, it's just peace and harmony.

What's Great About You

You are warm, gentle, humble, agreeable, kind, pleasant and enduring. You are the calm in the storm.

Attention goes to...

Your attention goes to identifying with and merging with others. You look for what others want and need in an effort to keep the peace. Your soft, pillowy energy tends to spread outwards and become diffuse.

Because you sense and champion the needs and feelings of whatever group you are in, you are a natural group anchor. To avoid feeling tension and conflict, you may reach for substitutes for love by eating, focusing on the minutia or getting lost in unimportant tasks.

Operating System of Type 9

At Your Best

You are a humble, patient, allowing and permissive diplomat who focuses on keeping the peace in any given situation. Because you strongly value connection, agreement, and unity with others, you like to keep things harmonious, stable and comfortable. When you are tuned in to what others want, you easily set aside your own needs to accommodate, appease or satisfy them.

You have a natural gift for patiently listening to all points of view and building consensus before making decisions. Most people feel heard, understood, accepted, included, nurtured, and valued in your presence.

You can be a wonderful mediator, naturally bringing people together by genuinely seeing, acknowledging, and honoring each person’s perspective. This makes you an asset to any team in the areas of listening, shared vision, consensus, healthy conflict, trust, appreciation, collaboration and support.

Under Stress

When you feel separate from others, you may go to sleep to your own needs and focus on the needs of others. You may feel the need to maintain a sense of connection, peace, comfort, and stability at all costs but in so doing may undermine your own value and worth. Your need for “okness” can at times cause you to minimize problems which can be interpreted as calloused, insensitive or indifferent.

You may numb yourself to the realities of your situation at home or work and fall into inertia rather than focus on what is important. In an attempt to have “peace at any price,” you may actually become resentful, stubborn, and resigned, feeling powerless to change anything.

You may resort to appeasing others on the surface but objecting in passive-aggressive ways that leave others frustrated, neglected and angry. You may appear disengaged, inattentive, unresponsive and complacent. You may lose focus and initiative, escape into a mental world of fantasy, or zone out with any number of numbing, mindless activities.

What Holds You Back

Avoiding conflicts and potential backlash of your own self-assertions. Wanting “peace at any price”. Going along with others to get along and losing your own voice.

Oversimplifying problems to minimize what is upsetting. Becoming stubborn and slow-moving when in disagreement. Being neglectful, passive and self-effacing.

Shutting down and imploding when threatened/ afraid. Merging with others and losing touch with who you are. Numbing out and being a creature of habit or ritual – repeating familiar solutions.

Escaping into comfort and ease; going on “autopilot”. Becoming disengaged, inattentive, and unreflective. Being indecisive; saying “yes” when you want to say “no”.

Coping Strategy

In order to cope with underlying fears of being disconnected from others, you may minimize your own needs and focus on others. This can take many forms: “forgetting yourself;” distracting yourself with routines and mindless activities; accommodating others; and putting your own needs aside to be accepted and comfortable in relationship with others.

You may keep fears at bay by seeking to maintain peace at any price and being seen as the easy-going, “nice guy or gal”. You may also avoid conflict or loss by suppressing your own opinions, “going along to get along,” or being pleasant and agreeable. You use patience, persistence and resistance to handle problems and might “check out” or become unresponsive if you fear it will cause separation from another.

Defense Strategy

Your primary defense mechanism is a form of “dissociation” which can be any strategy that cuts you off from feelings that seems overwhelming and intolerable. This may be as subtle as escaping into seemingly safe or pleasant feelings, or in more obvious ways such as using comforts and distractions to “wind down” or relax. A secondary strategy is “diversion”.

When something important feels overwhelming, you may distract your attention with something easier and less stressful. You may also “numb out” by throwing yourself into work or projects or escaping into unproductive or unimportant activities-- anything that distracts you from negative feelings and needs. You don’t like being direct and tend to obfuscate to avoid naming any differences or preferences that can cause conflict or dispute.

Hot Buttons & Triggers

Feeling overlooked, not seen, or irrelevant.

Others being recognized or validated in ways you crave but would never want to draw attention to for yourself.

People being treated unkindly or unfairly.

Feeling pressured to make a decision without knowing the whole landscape, different options, or all of the key details.

Being pushed to reveal your own feelings or desires when you are unsure or don’t feel safe with the other person.

Being in a tense, highly emotional, or volatile atmosphere.

Feeling under-appreciated or undervalued.

Being in an unfamiliar, new, or uncomfortable environment.

Having to choose sides between important people in your life who are not in agreement (e.g., your mother and your spouse, your children, or valued people on your work team).

Others seeming to move away or withdraw in relationship.

Others demanding your attention or response and not being able to zone out or numb out in comfortable/typical ways.

Not being validated, supported, or backed up when you take the risk to voice your own perspective, feeling, or opinion.

Blind Spots

By shutting yourself off from your preferences, you can lose sight of yourself in many important ways. You may negate or be unaware of your own preferences, positions, needs and desires, and not realize that you’ve “gone to sleep to your true yourself.” You may identify with being agreeable and easy to get along with, so you may not recognize when you are withholding or being passive-aggressive or stubborn.

You may also see yourself as humble and disown your desire for attention. You enjoy your habits and routines and may not see when change is called for in relationships or work. You prefer to maintain the status quo to keep things feeling stable and comfortable.

Mistaken Beliefs / Trap

It is a cognitive mistake to believe that if you avoid conflict, you won’t have any or that you won’t be disconnected from others. Ultimately, ignoring conflict will cause additional conflict and greater disconnection. It’s also a mistake to believe that if you convince yourself that you don’t matter, that others don’t matter, or that actually nothing really matters, you will avoid emotional pain.

Seeking a sense of ease and comfort can be a trap because your own truth and your own needs will not be suppressed forever and you’ll eventually become angry and irritable. Another mistake is believing that not taking action isn’t an action and not making a decision isn’t a decision.

In reality, taking no action is an action and making no decision is a decision. And finally, maintaining “peace at any price” is a trap because it can never bring real, lasting peace.

Growth Journey of Type 9

Transformation Journey

Your transformation journey involves: 1. Realizing that you are important and that you matter. 2. Letting go of the fear of conflict, speaking your truth, and experiencing your sense of being. 3. Taking the time to tune into your heart, discovering your preferences, deciding what you really want and actually going for it!

Under Stress

An Average Day

As you begin to see that tuning out from yourself and life to try to stay comfortable can only bring discomfort, you start to “wake up to yourself” and find your own voice. Realizing the trap of forgetting yourself to try to stay in peaceful relationship with others, you now see that deep and lasting connection requires your authentic presence and may involve moments of tension and disagreement. You are less self-effacing and accommodating, and less prone to idealizing others and automatically going along with their agendas.

You think carefully before saying “yes,” and practice saying “no” when you don’t agree. Your natural affinity for mediating and dispelling disagreement is able to truly connect and unite others in your community, family, and work environments. You are genuinely positive, reassuring, and supportive to others, bringing a healing, harmonizing, and calming influence and greater understanding to any team or group you are connected with.

In The Zone

Seeing through the false beliefs that numbness brings connection and that your own humanity can possibly be less valuable or important than others’, you are now deeply attuned to yourself and come into an even greater harmony with others. Spontaneous and present in each moment, you are truly accommodating and flexible to life as a whole, rather than to the whims of others. You become a powerful force for others with your immense acceptance, compassion, stability and serenity.

You now trust all of life, and see your own feelings, intuitions, and intentions as keys to establishing deeper connection with others. You no longer take yourself out of the equation but put yourself in the middle of the flow of life.

Others feel at ease with your innocence, simplicity, patience, sincerity, and kindness. You are self-accountable, autonomous and content with yourself and relationships. You become a great healing presence in the world, able to be profoundly present, validate divergent perspectives, and resolve conflict in a spirit of real peace.

Keys to Growth

Pay more attention to yourself and develop greater attunement to what you actually feel, want, think, and need.

Practice expressing your feelings, needs, and ideas even when they may be in opposition to others; take risks and notice how authenticity (not self-forgetting) brings connection.

When tempted to zone out, consciously become more dynamic, active and assertive rather than escaping into numbing activities or being passive with others.

Notice yourself not agreeing with others and how you handle this uncomfortable energy internally before speaking/acting.

Practice saying “maybe” before making commitments you may regret later, and become more comfortable saying “no”.

Become more aware of your fears around conflict and disagreement and tune into your own energy when facing tense people or situations; breathe and let it move through.

Use your natural abilities to mediate and validate divergent views to appreciate conflict and deal with it directly, seeing that embracing differences actually brings people together.

Become more aware of and comfortable with the natural movement of “negative” emotions and energies, such as aggression and conflict; open and allow them to pass through.

Ground yourself in your body and become more active physically in whatever way feels natural (exercise, walking); more rigorous activity can help fear and conflict move through.

Practice “radical self-care” and place your needs before others (perhaps in ways that seem extravagant to you at first).

Watch the tendency to deflect praise or attention and try to take it in positive regard, even if uncomfortable at first.

Notice wanting to merge with others and any dependencies, resentments, or tendencies to blame that arise.

Type 9 In the Workplace

Working with Others

You can be dedicated, hard-working and very productive in a supportive environment with clear expectations and the flexibility to work at your own pace. You tend to “go along to get along” and avoid making waves. You are very approachable and enjoy camaraderie and pleasant exchanges with coworkers.

You help your team to stay positive and to consider or embrace diverse opinions and alternative viewpoints and you are able to add a meaningful perspective. On the other hand, you tend to hesitate in making decisions. Your ability to listen and understand people’s positions can often lead them to believe that you agree with them and will back them up.

They are then surprised and disappointed when they discover you were just listening, not actively agreeing. You are good at mediating and helping to mend fences when others disagree, but have a harder time mending your own. You might secretly want recognition, but you avoid bringing attention to yourself and may appear uncomfortable and become self-effacing when it comes.

Ideal Environment

Your ideal work environment is calm, predictable, and harmonious. You relax and work well when the team is getting along and things are running smoothly. You thrive with familiar routines, regularly scheduled meetings, and clear deadlines that give you plenty of time to work steadily at your own pace.

Not wanting to ask for validation, you expect rewards and promotions to be fairly given and clearly contingent upon merit and productivity. In the flow of a project, you readily put your own needs aside to work for the greater good of the team or organization. It is particularly important for you to feel good about your job and the work you do.

Typical Challenges

Because you like the familiar, you may get thrown off course if things change rapidly and unpredictably with no time to adjust. You may not like having to make decisions yourself, but you don’t want decisions or changes forced upon you either--especially if they feel arbitrary. You may procrastinate and struggle with inaction when you need to make a decision that impacts others or might trigger a reaction in them.

You would rather wait for agreement and consensus. Feeling overlooked or discounted at work may trigger your fear of being unimportant, and cause you to act as if the opinions, ideas, and agendas of others are more important than yours. When upset at work, you are unlikely to voice your concerns, but may instead slow your pace in silent and stubborn objection that can frustrate others.

Taking Guidance

You appreciate a collaborative mentoring relationship and work well under well-defined lines of leadership because you tend not to like the pressure of decision-making. You may be particularly responsive to, and work well with, a dynamic and charismatic boss who values your contributions. You also appreciate a manager that is congenial and brings a sense of connection and synergy to the team.

Carried by the energy and enthusiasm of a strong supervisor, you will work tirelessly with little consideration of your own needs. At times you may feel ambivalent about authority.

You may have trouble self-starting or staying on task and resent feeling pressured to make a decision or take an action before you feel comfortable to do so. You may become inactive or stubborn and become resistant to authority.

Leadership Style

As a leader, you have the ability to see all points of view and are adept at mediating differences and settling disputes when there are difficulties between team members. You also engender a naturally kind, accepting, and inclusive atmosphere on the team. You are careful, thoughtful, thorough, and able to weigh many sides of any issue presented, but you can get stuck in needing extensive data and wanting to think too broadly before making a decision.

To avoid conflict, you may announce major decisions without warning or sufficient discussion, which can evoke confusion and resentment. You may have difficulty managing distractions, and might be prone to getting caught up in unimportant tasks, which can make setting priorities and deciding what is most essential difficult. Other challenges you may face in leadership include not wanting to take sides, having “peace at any cost,” being vague or obfuscating in strategic planning, wanting to stay in the comfort zone or the familiar, and avoiding taking risks.

Famous 9s

Famous People with Your Type

Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, Beyoncé, Loni Anderson, Annette Bening, Tony Bennett, Matthew Broderick, Sandra Bullock, George Burns, Kate Bush, Art Carney, Julia Child, Gary Cooper, Kevin Costner, The Dalai Lama, Jeff Daniels, Clint Eastwood, Dwight Eisenhower, Queen Elizabeth II, Gerald Ford, Mahatma Gandhi, John Goodman, Tipper Gore, Elliott Gould, Charles Grodin, Woody Harrelson, Mariel Hemingway, Audrey Hepburn, Anjelica Huston, C.G. Jung, Grace Kelly, Nancy Kerrigan, Lisa Kudrow, Abraham Lincoln, Andie MacDowell, Mr. Magoo, Dean Martin, Jerry Mathers, Dan Quayle, James Earl Ray, Ronald Reagan, Ralph Richardson, Carl Rogers, Roy Rogers, Martin Sheen, Ringo Starr, Mary Steenburgen, Daniel Stern, James Stewart, Billy Bob Thornton, Andy Williams, Renee Zellweger, Joe DiMaggio,George Lucas.

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switchforjimin · 5 years ago

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Rough Night

Summary: You work at BigHit as a secretary. After coming home to find relaxation in your boyfriend’s company, Jimin comes home acting-out from a frustrating day at work...but he isn’t all that tired.

Pairing: JiminXreader

Fluff / Smut (not really smut but not complete fluff either...)

Wordcount:2269

The day had been long. Papers had begun to pile up on your desk and the hours seemed to creep by. Auditions for a new potential group were coming up and somehow you had gotten the short stick of handpicking several candidates. Sure, it was an honor to be trusted with such a big decision, but after a few hours of sleep (thanks to your considerate boyfriend), the task seemed a bit more challenging than you had first thought. After ten gruesome hours of stumbling amongst the resumes, audition videos, and fluorescent lighting, the time finally came for you to go home. The worries of the upcoming auditionees began to fade as a faint ache in your stomach began to grow. Lunch had been quick, since you had thought it would be best to get ample work so that you could leave early. The plan failed, but what was done, was done. Options for dinner quickly took over your train of thought?

Left overs? Take out? The meat that you had bought would go bad soon.

Half-heartedly deciding to cook something for you and Jimin, you began walking towards the practice rooms. You had no idea if he would actually be there, but with the upcoming schedule being so busy it was easy to guess that your meticulous and perfectionist boyfriend would be working hard. You had walked down these empty halls thousands of times in the years you had worked here. The cool, drafty hallways and rooms no longer bothered you, but an unusual chill ran down your spine as you heard someone shouting in one of the rooms. Stomach twisting at the agony in the familiar voice, you knock on the one-way glass cautiously. A faint “come in” was muttered through the door before you pushed on the heavy door.

Jimin was leaning against the mirror wall opposite of the room. Dark, black hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his grey t-shirt looked uncomfortably wet. The sweatshirt he had worn to work this morning was carelessly tossed on the paneled floor beside his keys and empty bottles of water. The opening door did not phase him mainly because he was desperately trying to catch his breath. Seeing his head tossed back, eyes closed and squinting in pain, and hearing his shallow breaths filling the empty room, you couldn’t stop your chest from swelling with admiration. He worked so hard even when no one was looking. Sometimes too hard, but it wasn’t like he ever listened when you told him to stop.

You inched into the room with a soft, “Can I come in?” Proceeding when he faintly nodded and pushed himself off of the mirror to walk towards you. “I was going to make something for dinner if you are going to be home. Do you get off soon?”

By now he had reached you and grasped your hand in his. His touch was gentile as if he would break you if he held you too tightly. The small gestures like this always made you smile to yourself. Though his touch was soft, you could sense his frustration in the way his eyes never stopped moving across your face. A thousand critics and things that he thought that he could do better were flying through his mind and clearly written on his face. His lack of attention used to irritate you, but soon you learned his habits and learned to love them all as a part of him. “I got off a few hours ago, but I wanted to go over a few things that I need to fix,” he breathed out and winced at the amount of energy that speaking took.

With pleading eyes, you looked up to his taller stature, “Jimin you need a break, love,” In response, the weak body in front of you seemed to shrink in realization and turned on his heels to grab his keys and sweatshirt.

The ride home was eerily silent. Not only were you still in shock that Jimin had actually stopped when you suggested that he should, but he had listened when you told him that you should drive him home. It had been months since you and Jimin arrived at home together. Usually you got home a few hours before him and did chores around the house until he got home. Today had been a complete out-of-routine day for you, but it would be nice to get to spend the evening with him. The twenty minute car ride was physically silent, but roaring with both of your thoughts.

Getting home, you both climbed out in silence, but Jimin hastily walked around the car to your side, his arm finding its rightful place around your waist. His hand managed to find the curve of your hip and fit with ease like the missing piece of a puzzle. Warmth spread like wildfire from where his hand rested to you toes and back up to your chest. You passed off the sudden sensitivity to his touch as being “touch-deprived” for ten straight hours. To take your mind off of the sensational burning in your skin and focusing it onto the growling in your stomach, you asked your boyfriend what he wanted to eat while he rummaged through his ring of keys.

“You’ve had a long day Jagi, why don’t we just order something.”

“I really don’t mind cooking some-” You started, but were cut off by him walking through the door that he had opened. Standing there dumbfounded at his actions, you allowed the faint breeze to blow away whatever it was that had stressed him out enough for him to cut you off like he just had.

Once you walked through the familiar threshold to your home, Jimin had already taken off towards the stairs. A knot tied in your stomach as you watched his back disappear around the corner of the wall. Anger, not towards your boyfriend, but whatever had caused him to act like this, overpowered any hunger you had felt on the way home. After reluctantly calling in the usual items you get from a local restaurant, you sat alone on the couch mindlessly watching some kdrama you had seen hundreds of times before. Jimin’s acting-out behavior really had gotten to you. Staring at the cliche couple on the screen until the contacts in your eyes began to dry out, you wondered what had happened today that could have frustrated him so much. Contrary to only the night before when he had given you the night of your life; filled with lust, passion and want, now he acted like none of it had happened.

Descending footsteps drew you out of your thoughts. You knew it was childish, but you refused to turn your head to acknowledge his presence in the room. His day may have been stressful, and you knew that, but you had looked forward to coming home to your loving boyfriend after a tiresome day at work; not to being cut off and left to sit alone for half an hour. Focusing hard on the fake plant standing idly in the corner of the room, you heard the fridge open and items within it being moved around. This lasted for a moment before a soft voice called out to you, “Jagiya,”

You ignored him, still feeling the need to be petty.

“Jagi,” he tried again, but got no answer. You began to wonder how long you should let this go on.

Did you expect an apology? You had had a bad day too, maybe you should be more lenient and understanding.

Nearly caving in to his pitiful sigh behind you, the decision was delayed by the sound of the doorbell ringing. More nights than not, you were alone for dinner so out of habit you stood from your spot on the couch to walk towards the front door. The unusual sight of a tiny, yet muscular back was walking to the front door to grab what you assumed was the food you had ordered. You preoccupied yourself with getting two glasses of water and setting them on the table, but Jimin seemed to be taking a while. Curious, you peeked around the corner and saw that it was only Taehyung at the door.

“Hobi hyung said he really wants us to work on it. He told me to tell you that we should plan to practice early tomorrow morning. I would’ve called, but my phone died before I got the chance to.” You expected to hear something from Jimin in return to the younger’s news, but you heard nothing but the door closing.

Jimin worked so hard. He was already frustrated with today, and now he had an unexpected, early practice. You knew he loved his job and nothing would falter his love for his work, but he could get so stressed at times. Being so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t realize Jimin had walked around the corner, freezing when he saw you. He looked tense. His hands were caught in his wet hair. Black sweatpants were hanging loosely around his hips. His chest was bare and slightly red from the heat of the shower you quickly realized he had taken when he had gotten home. Guilt swarmed over you like a tidal wave.

“What did Tae want?” You feigned ignorance so he wouldn’t know that you were eavesdropping. Jimin stared back at you with seemingly blank eyes, but you knew that it meant he was angry. Avoiding his eyes seemed like the natural thing to do; finding things to be interesting that never were before. Another house plant that had died from lack of attention, a scratch on the wall that never got painted over, shoes by the door that suddenly needed to be picked up.

Going to give attention to the lifeless plant, and pick up the few shoes by the door you tried to slide past your boyfriend. Making no progress, you were pulled back by his gentle hand on your wrist. Park Jimin was a walking contradiction: there was fire in his eyes, every muscle in his body was on the verge of imploding within him, but his finger caressed over your skin like it was the last time he would ever feel your touch. Walking backwards to be face-to-face with him once more, you stared into his velvet, brown eyes. They were dark but there was a new look in them. Without having time to think about what could possibly be occurring, your back was against the cold wood of the front door. Jimin’s body pressed into yours and his lips landed on yours in one swift movement. When Jimin kissed you, it got hard to think-

He was frustrated and exhausted. Your day was tiresome. Jimin was now kissing you.

Everything else was a blur.

Kissing Jimin was like coming home after a long vacation. No matter how many times you had kissed him, coming back always felt like the first time- but better. Cliche dramas make it seem like fireworks go off, or time stops when you kiss someone you love, but this felt like time was moving faster than you could stand. Desperately moving your lips against his afraid that time would run out and take the precious moment away. Kissing that was gentle, but got needier and harder with every ticking second.

Delicate hands pinned your hips against the hard door, but you didn’t care about the ache it caused in your lower back. Your fingers, though much smaller than his, became entangled in the mess of wet, dark hair to bring the mesmerizing man as close to you as possible. His breath fanned against your lips when he pulled away to catch his breath. In between light pants he kissed at the corners of your mouth, then your cheeks, and along your jaw; each peck sending butterflies to your stomach. His eyes briefly met yours and you saw real, weary, distressed emotion in them this time. You let him bite and kiss along your neck for as long as he desired to, allowing him to paint the canvas of your skin with his emotions.

Speaking could possibly ruin the mood, but in the back of your mind, faint memories of you ordering food began to occur. Wavering whispers of his name left your lips. Each time, they got slightly louder and more confident. Eventually, the man looked up at you from under eyelashes that were particularly long for a man. Tremors of emotion overwhelmed every cell in your body. Your knees now did not know how to uphold your body and the strength in your hand melted, resting on his bare shoulders, “I ordered the food already,”

Jimin merely hummed in response, “We both had pretty rough days, hmm Jagi?” The usual pet name now ignited fires somewhere in your core. There was a reason to stop, but it no longer seemed like a valid one. Searching for words to say, you looked at his eyes. They shifted from weary to mischievous and it was not your lungs’ turn to fail you, “We may have a rough night too.”

Leaving no time to think, his hand moved from their resting place on your hips, to the back of your legs. Lifting the weight off of your feet, the dimly lit corridor quickly became blurred with want. The air seemed to thicken like you were underwater but you were willingly drowning. All that was real that night was your devilish boyfriend that carried you up to your shared room.

#park jimin #bts smut #smut #argument #fight #couple #boyfriend #reader #bighit #bts #bts jimin #jimin #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts v #fluff #cute #bts story

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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

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Revenge of the Gray: Chapter 24

Description: Operation Ilum begins.

Chapter Twenty Four

“Keres,” Aheka whispers in the dark. “Keres, wake up.”

I stretch out, determined to keep my eyes closed in sleep. Regardless, I can feel my body slowly start to wake up, no matter how hard I keep my orbs shut. I hear Aheka shuffle away tiredly, entering the bathroom and putting the door into a near close. I peel my eyes open slightly, noting the room is still dark despite both of us being awake. My first thought is to ask what’s going on, if everything is alright. But then I know why she’s woken me up- we’re nearing the Mustafar system. Soon enough, Operation Ilum will be a go.

I wince silently as I climb down the latter and choose my outfit for the day. The black, flexible tunic and pants that don’t require a bra. I put on socks and the supple, dark high kneed boots, tying my hair back into a braid. Aheka finishes in the bathroom, coming out topless and looking for today’s clothes. I’m too preoccupied with my own thoughts to really take in the sight.

I splash my face with water in the bathroom, reapplying eyeliner for a small sense of style. It’s only after I reapply that I realize how stupid it was, but don’t bother to take it off because that would be even more stupid.

Aheka and I leave the room both tired and alert. Silence sits between us, and not the comfortable kind. It’s the kind of quiet that comes before something terrible, something unsaid, something nobody wants to acknowledge. All of those things are true. Operation Ilum was terrible, neither of us wanted to think about it, so we didn’t acknowledge it. We probably should have, in hindsight. But we didn’t.

“Hey Circe,” I say as I approach him in the control room. He sits in his chair in the cockpit, Mandalorian helmet on and gloved fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Circe nods to me silently in response, sharing in the solemn mood we’ve all grown to possess in response to today. “Are we almost there?” I ask quietly.

Circe stiffens, then slowly turns his head towards me. I can’t see his face, but I can feel the look in his eyes. It’s one of grief and pain, but silent strength like he can’t be the one to admit it as he tries to hold it in. He nods slowly before turning back to the swirling blue tunnel ahead- hyperspace.

I slowly back away, feeling the deep rooted darkness that’s washing over everything. It fills the pit of my stomach with emptiness and silence and gloom. I didn’t know what it was then. Now, I do. Too bad it doesn’t help me so much anymore.

“Keres, come on,” Aheka insists, gently pulling my hand as I struggle to take my eyes from Circe’s back for whatever reason. I follow her to the cafeteria, which is filled with everyone participating in the mission.

“Let’s go find a table,” Aheka says as she begins walking to the right. I scan the tables and the line for Adamus, finding him towards the back eating alone. As I suspected, he got about no sleep last night. The circles under his eyes, posture, and bedhead say it all. He hates himself for doing this. He doesn’t want to do this. And yet, he’s made a decision- I can sense it from across the room.

Aheka leans down next to him and says something before going off to join the line for food. I take my seat across from Adamus, whose eyes raise to meet mine. He doesn’t say anything, just stares, trying to hide the blame he feels towards me. He’s not hiding it well enough, of course, but he’s trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?

“We still have the last meeting this morning, right?” I ask softly, dropping my gaze.

Adamus nods and puts his fork down. “Yeah, in a few.” His voice is gravelly and low from tiredness, something I actually enjoy listening to for whatever reason.

I would ask if he was okay, or how he slept, by I already know the answer to both questions. Adamus looks back down to his bowl of mush, then slowly back up at me. It’s almost like he wants to say something, but I know I can’t bring it up. He’s angry at me, so angry.

“I think I’m gonna skip breakfast,” I almost mutter, “just go to the meeting room early. I’ll see you in a bit.” I start to get up but Adamus’s voice stops me.

“Keres, wait.”

I meet his eyes mid stand, watching them flicker between mine carefully. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Alright,” I say, a little too casually for the depressing vibe between us.

He takes a minute before he begins. “I think I’m going to be the one to stay behind.” I’m about to open my mouth, but Adamus continues. “I’ve already talked to the Admirals about it. Oden was very relieved.”

“Are you sure you-”

“Yes. My decision is final.”

He holds my eyes, daring me to look away. The thought crosses my mind and stays there, lingering as I watch him and repeat his words in my mind. That was when I made my decision, but I couldn’t let him know. Not after he just told me he was going to have today be his last.

“Alright,” I say evenly.

“Once it’s done,” he says, “you’ll become the only General. I trust you’ll be able to handle it.” I nod. “You always did have a knack for strategy.”

“Anything else?” I ask curtly, using my old apathetic tricks to keep him from reading my thoughts.

“No,” Adamus replies, equally as serious. There’s another few seconds of silence between us as we look into the others eyes. “I’ll see you later, Keres.”

So I move along, feeling my decision solidify itself in my mind.

Adamus joins me and the Admirals in the room shortly, interrupting a conversation between Sirsal and myself.

“So, today’s the day,” he had said as he approached me, hands clasped behind his back as he puffs his chest out sensibly. I said nothing, only eyeing him with clear distrust.

“I would like to thank you for your commendable attitude,” he said, voice unwavering but still snobby.

“Really?” I genuinely wonder, raising my eyebrow. Sirsal nods, standing silent. The air between us is respectful for once. But then Adamus enters the room and does his usual greeting of “Good morning men,” and Sirsal and I take a step apart.

“To go over the plan a final time,” Adamus begins, zooming in on the image of the three Star Destroyers above the holotable. “Soon, we’ll be in the vicinity to the Makers Thrall. While the other two destroyers are focused on our troops, General Vagor and myself will take our battalion and retrieve whatever information we can find in the control room. After that, I’ll stay behind to take the ship out, as well as the base on Endor.”

There are no questions.

The coms crackle overhead, and then Circe’s voice rings out across the ship. “We’re coming out of hyperspace. General Adamus has given the order for all troops to report to their stations for attack. I repeat: all troops report to stations for attack.”

Outside the door, the muffled sound of feet hitting the floor floods my hearing. Adamus sighs out tiredly and stands up. “An honor to serve with you,” he says, meeting the eyes of the men in the room.

“And you,” Sirsal says, serious but meaningful. The two exchange a curt nod, and then Adamus and I leave the room.

As soon as the door slides closed behind us, my hearing implodes. Everything is louder, closer. My heart beat echoes throughout my ears like a bell ringing over and over. Adamus examines the last soldier jogging down the hallway, adjusting their aviator gloves as they do so. “Come on,” Adamus says, following them.

We make it to the control room, which is filled with everyone who won’t be involved today. I can see Circe’s back in the cockpit, and hear the hum of panicked conversation. The ship rocks as the blue shades fade out from the large window, replaced with one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.

The horizon is dotted with stars against the black ink of space. In the middle, a planet sits, bright and violent. The orange-red planet glows with brutality. I can see every individual stream of lava and heat clash and blend together, roaring with intensity and darkness. In front of it, three Star Destroyers hover- gray, still, serious. The biggest one- the Thrall, looks menacing even from the distance, although it’s not so different from the smaller ones. I don’t know why, but the sheer strength and might of the whole scene is so appealing to me. It’s all so… contrasted. Violent, abhorred, hated, uniform. It’s the Empire.

“We’re here,” Circe says over the coms. I’m about to step forward to him, talk to him- but the ringing in my ears makes everything seem so slow. My legs, feeling like jelly, move in slow motion. My hearing grows dull and slurred together, followed by a long, high pitched ringing that I don’t fully process as annoying.

“Keres.”

I keep my eyes on Circe, watching his head turn over his shoulder to acknowledge me. Mur?

“Keres!” A hand wraps around my wrist, another snaking around my forearm. I whip around, the ringing in my ears abruptly stopping as I see Aheka’s pale green eyes. I am taken aback at the sight of her after the ringing and the slow motion feeling that just engulfed me. She appears to have no memory of it and instead looks into my eyes.

“You weren’t really planning on going out there without saying goodbye, were you?” she asks, tone both joking and curious. Goodbye?

“Of course not,” I decide, shoulders relaxing as I take in her features. The red skin, the regal white diamond design. The full lips, tall horns signaling her coming into her own. The long lashes, the stark white medical uniform. She looks beautiful, as usual. I never realized until that moment how much seeing her comforted me.

“You’ll be safe, won’t you?”

Aheka has stunned me again with her words. I know I should be used to it by now, but how many people have I encountered that actually showed me kindness? Aheka makes me stop and pause, question everything I think I know about people. She gives me an example of the good- the pure good- and takes no credit.

“Only for you,” I say, smiling playfully to reassure her. While the gesture seems to calm the feeling in her heart, it does nothing for my own.

She looks like she wants to tell me to shut up, but chooses different words instead. “I’ll see you soon, right?” “Yeah,” I say. “Soon.”

The air between us slows. In that moment, there is no one else in the galaxy but her. I almost want to say something romantic to her, something about how much I really care about her, or how much I owe her. The words don’t come out. Instead, Aheka reaches her arms around my neck, pulling my body to hers in an embrace.

My eyes go wide for a second, then slowly relax as I breathe in her scent. It has not changed since the day I first met her: cinnamon and warmth and medicine. I stare off into space lowly as I wrap my arms around her in return, adjusting my head as to not hurt her lekku. And then I know what it’s like to not want to leave someone. I want to beg her to let me stay, to have me forever but I know better. How crazy would I appear if I did that right now? No, I won’t mess up this memory for her. I squeeze her waist a little as I melt into her arms.

One word comes to my mind. Friend.

I see Adamus turn around some paces ahead and looks at the scene. I meet his eyes and reluctantly pull away from the Togruta. “I’ve got to go,” I say, hiding the emotion I feel. Aheka smiles softly, reading right through me.

“Stay safe, Keres,” she says. I peel away from her, feeling the warmth leave my skin as I begin walking away. The jelly leg feeling spreads to my stomach, and I almost want to double over and vomit right there.

Adamus and I begin our jog again. I throw my head over my shoulder to get one last glance at the Circe, to find he’s already watching me. He nods seriously, acknowledging me. It’s a silent, vague salute that tells me he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. I don’t have the time to do anything in return though. We’ve already entered a new hallway that will lead us to the hanger.

We reach it. I look around at the room, now busy and full as people climb into ships. The ships are a little janky, but they’re quick. It’s not like we can afford too much better anyway. Above us, the door we’ll be exiting through is closed and shiny.

“This way,” Adamus says. We trade our jogging for brisk walking, making our way all the way to the back. Two Jedi fighters wait for us, one blue and white and the other deep brown and white. They have the same swirling kind of pattern painted on, though it looks a little old as the paint is chipping slightly. I recognize the ship from all the times I scrapped them back on Bracca.

Oh, how silly of me it seems to have called Bracca my home for so long now.

Adamus jumps into the blue and white fighter, pressing the buttons necessary to make the glass top slide over and into position, sealing him inside. I follow his movements, remembering all the controls Circe taught me. I place my headset on, Adamus’s voice crackling through my ears.

“Alright,” he begins. “Opening hanger doors in ten seconds. Begin tagging in.”

“AV-1, standing by.”

“AV-2, standing by.”

I switch on the engine, getting ready to put the thrusters into acceleration.

“AV-7, calling in.”

“AV-8, standing by.”

I breathe out slowly, attempting to calm myself as my nerves explode a million times over. Above us, the hanger doors begin to open as warning noises flood the speakers.

“AV-11, standing by.”

“AV-12, reporting. Over.”

“Alright, battalion,” Adamus says. “Today we show the Empire who they’re messing with. Everybody ready?”

There is silence, then a male voice breaks it. “Ready to follow you, sir.”

I look over to Adamus’s ship, and see him freeze up. Then a small, glad smile spreads across his pink lips. He reaches up and smooths his soft locks back out of his face, even though they fall back into place again almost immediately. “May the force be with you.”

The ship shakes and trembles as the doors above fully open. I can see the stars and one of the lesser Destroyers overhead. “Sector one, engage,” Adamus commands. A large group of ships some leagues ahead of me raise into the air and zip out of sight. These are the ones acting as our distraction, which Adamus insists will be okay. “Let’s go, battalion. Engaging in three, two, one.”

I press on the accelerator, pushing my steering wheel up and flying into the air. The ship shakes slightly, but that’s normal for this model and age. My fighter exits the hanger, revealing the destroyers and the stars and the Mustafar system. The distraction ships fly rather erratically, and it doesn’t take long for the ship to my right to take notice. A swarm of tie-fighters spill out from below, swiftly drawing closer.

Ahead, the Thrall sits. I can see my entrance point- the blue shield to their own hanger. I know they won’t send anybody out though- they’ll leave the lackey ships up to that.

“On your right, Keres!” Adamus warns in my ears. I glance in the direction, seeing a tie-fighter heading straight towards me, ready to flank. Green streaks fly out from the sides.

Trusting my instincts, I push my wheel down and dive. “Keres!” Adamus yells.

“I’m alright,” I promise. “I can shake him.” I change my position and roll my fighter over, avoiding the stream of shots. Then, effortlessly, I flip my fighter back behind the fighter and zip away. Adamus has given me, personally, direct orders to only take evasive action in the skies. At least I can respect that, right?

I rejoin the battalion and continue making a straight line for the blue shield of the Thrall.

“We are nearing our target. Be ready.” Adamus presses his fighter to surge forward, me close behind.

“Copy that, General.”

“Adamus,” I say into my headset. “We’re moving too fast. We won’t be able to slow in time for a clean landing.”

“What do you suggest then?” Adamus replies, eyes focused ahead.

I can’t help the small, almost sadistic smirk that crosses my face. “Crash landing.” I put my fighter into full speed, and in the blink of the eye I pass through the Thralls shield and scrape against the floor.

The sound that comes from it is absolutely terrible. Adamus’s ship follows mine, sliding just as roughly but hitting the wall. The rest of the ships follow, none of them crashing like we did.

I blink once, twice, listening to my beating heart. Did… did I really just do that? I flew across space in a Jedi fighter, just to crash into an Imperial mothership. It’s exciting, horrifying, and everything I love. Not to mention, completely destructive.

“We’re in,” Adamus says. He throws his headset off and slides his case open. Hopping out, he jogs to meet the soldiers who spill out of their own ships. I follow his lead, heart fluttering with excitement.

“Everyone alright?” I call out.

Adamus sighs. “No. Is your arm alright, Janus.”

“I, uh, I think it’s broken,” a young man moans. I would feel more guilt for my reckless suggestion if he had actually died instead of just hurt his arm, but alright.

“Stay behind,” I tell him. “Signal us if you see anything off. Adamus, we gotta go.”

Adamus nods and addresses the rest of the men. “Operation Ilum is a go,” he says. I see his eyes flicker across all of his soldiers, taking in their features because he thinks it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. I don’t tell him that he’s wrong, and to relax.

“Let’s move out,” he says, removing his lightsaber from his belt and switching it on. The purple light casts the color across his features. It shows off his soft skin, his faint freckles, and the determined look in his eyes. He looks exceptionally handsome- I don’t even deny it.

I smile, proud to follow him.

#star wars #star wars masterlist #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #fandom #fanon #fanfiction #star wars fanon #gray jedi #greenlightsaber #lightsaber #jedi #sith

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honeygrip · 6 years ago

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Untitled...

I haven’t written anything in a LONG time.

As cathartic as writing has always been for me, I grew fatigued by writing about bleak subject matter.

I staved off writing for as long as I could.

Today however, I felt this immense craving, it was time for me to say something.

I’ve been grappling with how to admit this, finding the right words to convey to the right “audience” of people who would be compassionate and nonjudgmental enough to understand, trying to come to terms with how in depth I wanted to go here with this subject matter altogether, because it is so personal to me. Because it is something, I’ve worked so hard to not have to acknowledge, and because I find most people really don’t “understand”.

Depression is not for everyone.

The Depression discussion isn’t for your casual acquaintances. Its not for your Facebook statuses. It’s not a conversation you want to have with your co-workers or your boss or your family or even your “closest” friends. It’s not an ice breaker. And It’s not how you reveal yourself charmingly in the early phases of a budding new relationship.

It’s not a dialogue you want to start when you’re unsure of how others are going to react. It’s not an exchange you want to engage in when you are anxiously terrified about what is happening to you but still polite enough to not want to worry anyone else around you.

I didn’t want to be babied. I didn’t want to be hospitalized. I didn’t want people to be afraid of me or worse- abandon me completely. There were times when I was scared for my life because I felt so hopeless. But in the next second, I would know, that I didn’t want to acknowledge that idea in any real way because once I did, I would be labeled and stigmatized.

ESPECIALLY WITHIN THE BLACK COMMUNITY.

And So, I isolated myself. It was time for me to put together a plan of action to save my own life. I reached out to my FB community very vaguely asking for help with finding a good (and affordable) therapist.

That was the easiest part of the last few months of my life. The QUEST that began to find a quality, licensed therapist inside of my network of shitty insurance who was taking new patients and wasn’t demanding all sorts of other large exorbitant payments from me on top of my copay was exhausting.

You’d think with all these health and mental wellness experts abound, that it would be easier-but it wasn’t. I am fortunate enough to have a decent paying job, and since I don’t directly benefit from any magical government subsidies, it seemed like it was harder to find adequate resources.

I was... NO, I am mentally ill. But since I haven’t had a complete mental breakdown, or done something so drastically dangerous to myself or someone else, I was... and am NOT considered- a high priority case.

I am a perfectly functioning adult, dying inside, right here in plain sight.

Truth is, I couldn’t afford a “mental breakdown” even if I tried. Although, a full on “mental breakdown” does sound glorious...

A few days locked up in a hospital, resting, highly medicated and regularly monitored actually sounds fucking delightful!

But I had life here, my beautiful 10 year old daughter, my bills and my commitment to my daily obligations to consider. If I stopped working, EVERYTHING in my life would stop working. That desperate realization alone was enough to keep going.

My pride and my misanthropic attitude made it difficult for me to find people “close” enough to talk to. It’s hard for me (personally) to ask for help. I understand everyone is busy, EVERYONE IS COPING. I’m an empath, so I already know this about other people and understand it well. I never want to be a burden to anyone. When you’re in the depths of a depression, like I was (I’m slowly coming out of it now) I wasn’t sure if I was really hitting bottom enough that I needed help. I just knew I was exhausted all the time, that my heart is completely broken and that I felt so stagnant that I just couldn’t figure out a good reason to go on.

I was so desperate. Something had to change, something had to stop, and it needed to happen quickly.

I couldn’t be fake about it anymore.

Couldn’t be preoccupied by a social life because I wasn’t living. I didn’t (still don’t) want to go out. I don’t want to be seen or social. And I didn’t want to let anyone in.

People say they are “always there” if you need them but they’re not. Especially when “there” is a dank, dark place that’s not particularly positive a majority of the time. So naturally, “Friendships” imploded.

Relationshits (not a typo) never existed to begin with.

I would get text messages occasionally that I couldn’t answer. I literally just could not (be bothered to) answer.

Some check-ins weren’t personal enough to tell them the truth.

Some were too personal to go into depth with.

If I tell you, I’m not doing too well and you press further (as a good friend would) how could I dance my way around delving deeper without offending you?

What about when I tell you and your response is as vague and generally unsupportive as some that I received...

I was at a complete standstill.

I didn’t and still don’t want prayers or positive mantras, suggestions on books to read, meditations to try. And Thank you!

But NO.

I needed definitive plans of action and new strategies to attack this and NO ONE could give me that but me.

Isolation is NOT good but I needed to be truly alone with myself. Not distracting myself with nonsense or nonsense people and not self medicating.

I thank God that I wasn’t truly suicidal, although some days, I wasn’t sure. For as hopeless as I felt, I was able to keep my wits about me for the most part, I was resilient enough to focus on getting into some sort of therapy and committing myself whole soul and heartedly to getting well.

My first few sessions with my therapist felt a bit pointless. I’d just sit here and talk and talk and talk. She’d say something wise, I’d cry like a blubbering lunatic and then she’d send me on my way.

My therapist was also adamant about me going to a psychiatrist and getting on medication. I was resisting because I didn’t want to admit that I needed antidepressants to be well and I also didn’t want to have to go back out on another QUEST to find another doctor in my network of shitty insurance who was taking on new patients and wasn’t going to charge me violent rates of $250-$350 an hour for a consultation.

Finding a psychiatrist in my network of shitty insurance took me another month and a half, which had me going to therapy wondering if it was ever going to work because I needed the 2 for 1 service to begin to feel relief.

I was suffering through insomnia every night. That tremendous pressure on my chest of wanting to cry but not being able to. Of wanting to breathe but not being able to, of wanting to STOP crying but not being able to.

Because I wasn’t sleeping, I’d be a zombie most of the day. So, I sleep whenever I can, and sometimes sleep comes when I should be the most present.

I’m checked out emotionally, mentally, physically and I hate everyone. Exhausted by frustration. When I tell my therapist I’m so tired, she always chastises me.

“You’re not “tired”- YOU’RE DEPRESSED.”

She tells me, I have to own it, not hide it.

And therefore, I am...

Although, I’m still not ready to “talk” about it. It’s become evident to me that I have to honor myself and my gift of writing by actually WRITING about it.

Writing and journaling is actually a part of my prescribed homework, even though I had sworn off writing about anything until I had found something happy or positive to talk about. Here I am—writing.

Writing from the deep beyond, the depths of heartbreak, in the midst of a self imposed Cold War. Little to no communication with the outside world. Rarely engaging with ANYONE, and releasing any guilt or shame I felt about not being social.

I hardly go on social media anymore, because it’s wildly triggering for me. I’ve blocked any relatively toxic person who could contact me. I live in an innocuous bubble of my personal daily routine.

What’s most peculiar is the randomness of the people who do reach out to me. Folks I don’t actually know, who DM’d me- “to check on me”. Those who still check in, no matter how sporadically I respond. Those truly understanding few who have left me alone completely and those who don’t AT ALL.

The longing in my heart for those I wish cared, the amount of time it’s taking me to sync the intellectual realities with my emotional fantasies or is it my intellectual fantasies with my emotional realities- at any rate- it fucking hurts knowing I’ve chosen- against my best self interest to care for people who do not care about me. And every so often, I get mad at myself for still even thinking about that fact.

There are things about myself and how I love and how I cope- that I am learning for the first time. There are new ways that I am learning how to love myself and understand myself for the first time as well. I’ve been on the precipice of all this before- but each time I discover how childhood traumas relate to present day wounds- and how they show up in my behaviors and I’m astounded in a new way.

I am reluctantly sharing all this because our people don’t talk about depression in the present tense. Most talk about it as if it’s something they’ve miraculously conquered but never as something they miraculously endure.

Depression may come to some in phases but it isn’t just a phase, and it’s okay to be depressed as long as you don’t give up completely. As long as you are seeking to find a way to conquer it, and not pretending your Cold War is over.

♥️

#depression #mental health #black women #self love #self care #therapy #personal #honeygrip

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strrne · 6 years ago

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Give Me a Signal, Ch.7

Chapters: 6/?

Word count (so far): 18880

AO3 Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Summary: When Padmé Amidala is unable to contact Coruscant while negotiating a loan on Scipio, the Senate suspects trouble, and sends Anakin Skywalker to go check on her. Of course, the resourceful senator isn’t really in any trouble – don’t flatter yourself, Rush Clovis – but there’s definitely some brewing.

(or; rewrite of the tcw S6 Clovis arc; anidala + gen)

Anakin had not wanted to punch Clovis. He had wanted to kill him. It was as plain as that. Most of the time, he just hated the man. But at that moment, for whatever reason, he had wanted to end him.

If he had not sensed Padmé coming and snapped out of whatever episode he'd hurtled into, who knows what could have happened. He couldn't recall half his actions, or a quarter of Clovis' words – all he remembered was the blind fury.

And at what? Anakin stopped to consider for a while, trying to think through his enduring anger. The man had done plenty of things, and didn't seem to know what was good for him, but what had he done so far that merited... death? This wasn't two years ago, and thank the heavens of Iego, the rage Anakin felt now could not remotely compare to – did he really want to go there?

A punch he could have maybe justified to himself, maybe even to Padmé, if he hadn't known what he had meant to do.

Or did he know? The worst part was that he didn't – and wouldn't ever. He was already too far removed from the situation – that was mostly blank to him now anyway – still vaguely angry, but no longer bathing and reveling in the sensation.

He wasn't even sure if he was more or less ashamed now that Padmé wasn't here. As soon as she'd appeared, he'd truly and genuinely regretted his actions – or rather, been forced to acknowledge the regret. And once she'd gone, he'd wanted to keep on regretting, so as to make sure he'd never snap like that again. But now he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. It was certainly unpleasant, but he couldn't quite place it.

Anakin felt like he shouldn't have needed Padmé for this, but he was already a little confused whether the Jedi dogma dictated one try to identify their feelings and then ignore them, or just ignore them, and... feel harmony instead, or something.

”It's that Jedi Knight, isn't it?”

For once, Anakin really wanted her to say yes – in public. In front of the Chancellor, all the politicians, Republic representatives – and… banking enthusiasts? – that had gathered at the spaceport to see Clovis off back to Scipio. In the earshot of Bail Organa and another senator Anakin didn't recognize, who had somehow missed Clovis's whispered words that he could hear crystal clear from a distance. Just in time to see him arriving, give him a warm smile, take his hand and pull him into a kiss. In front of all these people.

Wow, his fantasies had gotten tame these days. And yet, it was still the wildest, most surreal thing Anakin could imagine. Especially when reality played out quite differently.

”Anakin!” Padmé exclaimed as she first saw him coming, too surprised to greet a 'Master Jedi' or 'General Skywalker'. Clovis whirled around – the rest of the crowd did too – but it was Clovis's face that Anakin was gauging; his intentions, his sensations that he was assessing through the Force. The man was not afraid of him. He believed Anakin to be a raving lunatic and completely unfit for his chosen profession – and a part of him washalf-expecting to get hit again, on the spot – but he was not afraid, for whatever reason.

Good? Bad? Anakin didn't know – he was used to being feared, or at least respected, on the sliding scale from 'ever the Jedi, so mysterious' to awe-induced fear and envy. And he took that respect as a half-given from all his enemies – the lack of it was always something of a personal insult. So to have this man still scoffing at him, after he'd introduced him to forces from within less mystical than the one with a capital forn… bad?

Then again… maybe that just meant Anakin had not been quite as close to snuffing the Living Force out of him as he'd thought. Maybe he had just punched him, taken a punch, and the control table had imploded on its own. It wasn't as though he had found that many black tufts of hair while cleaning up the table. So... good?

”Master Jedi,” Clovis greeted, and Anakin had to give him credit for putting up a masterful faux diplomat face. And whereas Obi-Wan had lately pointed out that he owned a pair of eyes, the Senators apparently didn't – many of them seemed delighted at the General's surprise appearance, for whatever reason. Especially the Chancellor, but he was always happy to see Anakin. ”We didn't expect the honor.”

Padmé's expression altered between confused and hopeful as Anakin returned the greeting with a nod, then stopped before Clovis and held out his hand. Clovis took it, as though out of some ambassadorial reflex. Anakin had half a mind to keep and keep shaking it and involve his other hand too, like Clovis had been doing to his wife for weeks, but he was already disgusted enough with himself.

There was nothing he actually wanted to say to this slime pile of a man – so he didn't – but if Clovis could make grand public displays in the name of whatever, so could he.

Clovis, a little puzzled at Anakin's wordless gesture, nodded in response and said, ”And thank you for all your assistance, Master Skywalker… on Scipio.”

That last addition prompted a few snickers and awkward looks. Either the politicians were not as discreet and subtle as they prided themselves in being, or Anakin just sensed their amusement through the Force. His plight on Scipio had been widely holovised, named as a problematic factor in the now-moot loan negotiations and used as a political argument, so of course that was hilarious. At least now everyone's eyes had been opened. There was about as much diplomacy and cordiality in the air as in a droid fight ring in some dank cave on Tatooine.

After the incident, Padmé had decided to step down from her role as negotiator for a new loan contract and recommended her friend Bail instead, to a disappointed but understanding Chancellor Palpatine. She had cited her personal history with Clovis as being an interfering factor and (in her professional and cautious politician's language) alluded ever so subtly to Clovis's inappropriate advances, probably making it seem like the blame was on her and her inability to reconcile with their last encounter. The Chancellor had then appointed Senator Organa and an assisting junior Senator to go to Scipio for a fresh round of negotiations and an extended diplomatic visit instead, while Padmé would still be hailed as one of the two heroes who discovered the data needed for the Five's conviction. And also suspected, alongside Clovis, of providing false data and potentially soon leading the Republic to ruin. The world of war finances was scary and complicated.

Anakin knew that the personal part of this ordeal could've by now been over. That is, if he hadn't developed an obsession with Scipio's holo tower and almost taken the opportunity to stow away on this very ship.

Not yet. He wanted all of his tools in prime condition, and for once, he needed to make one of those 'actual plans' that Obi-Wan was always nagging him about. He wondered what his Master would say if he knew he was going to make this rare exception for the sake of, technically, committing a crime.

Unceremoniously, his worst enemy was shortly packed into a ship and shipped off to Scipio. As they started to head back, Anakin sensed that Padmé wanted to talk, but Senator Chuchi apparently required Padmé's attention with greater urgency, and the Supreme Chancellor, in turn, wanted a word with Anakin.

”What a lovely gesture, Anakin,” he praised, placing a wrinkly hand on his shoulder. They were trailing behind the rest of the party, as the elderly Chancellor's movements were slow. ”I know you're not fond of the man. And when you consider the circumstances of his acquisition of the data file… oh, I myself worry whether he is to be trusted. But do not we all want to believe in second chances, hm?”

Anakin's handshake, to be sure, had not been for the sake of giving Clovis a second chance – more along the lines of pettiness, feeling superior, and maybe impressing Padmé, or at least making the handshake the last interaction she'd witness between the two men.

”Yes… we'll see,” Anakin muttered. Maybe the gesture had been a little too public for his taste.

”Please don't mistake my public endorsement of Clovis for my private confidence in him,” the Chancellor clarified, sliding his hand from Anakin's shoulder along the side of his arm, and giving a smile. ”I pray for this success and continued redemption, but between you and I, should any slip-ups transpire… ” He tutted and wagged his finger while still smiling. ”We will not hesitate to take drastic action.”

Anakin was inclined to agree.

”What was that all about, Anakin? Earlier today?” Padmé finally inquired. Somehow, between her busy schedule and the demands of his job, they had not found a private moment until this late at night at her apartment. Anakin wasn't quite sure whether she sounded appreciative – of the handshake, or his entering through the balcony, or what he was (not) wearing at the moment in a hopeful spirit – but he'd soon find out.

”I… felt bad,” he lied – or did he? ”And I guess… I wanted to provide him one last opportunity to… you know… spill the beans on me. I didn't want to hide like some coward.”

”They would have never believed him over you,” Padmé scoffed, now walking his way, looking his way, and certainly looking at his relative lack of attire, but very deliberately pulling a shawl over her shoulder-exposing nightdress. Anakin made a pout. ”He's a traitor, you're a war hero; he shrewdly maneuvered his way to the top; you were wrongfully imprisoned…”

Anakin was starting to deeply regret the handshake. The gesture in itself had done nothing but soiled his hand with treachery and smugness, but to have it generate this many prolonged conversations over Clovis, who was finally gone from their lives forever – except...

For a moment, he reconsidered his plan to go to Scipio. Why go closer, when he could be farther? In a rare moment, he remembered one of Obi-Wan's lessons, and a boring one at that, which was to look inward in a moment of agitation and ask the Force for an answer. Even as Padmé's tone gradually softened and she made a few concessions – still a nice gesture, perhaps you meant well – Anakin instead turned away for a moment, closed his eyes, and listened.

Obi-Wan's Force signature was especially bright tonight – worried, but… different somehow. Anakin wasn't quite sure, because he'd often been accused of making everything about himself – but it felt like his Master was thinking about him. About... him and Padmé? But Anakin had no time to dwell on what juicy secrets Obi-Wan believed he'd learned.

But the Force didn't seem intent on giving answers… and Anakin never been much good at meditating. He only saw the reception tower. But that was not the Force – that was a man-made, unmystical, different kind of Galaxy-wide connective tissue. Mechanical, more grounded. Sure, he was great at both, but the two had little to do with each other. One couldn't use the Force to fix the reception and no matter how good the signal, its capacity was insignificant compared to the power of the Force.

At least, what he saw didn't feel like a Force vision. But if he was already obsessing about something, could he even recognize a vision if it woke him up at night and bit him in the nose?

With his human senses, Anakin had actually heard most of what Padmé had said, as he slid back into reality, without the more mystical kinds of answers. She still loved him, needlessly apologized for something – still found something to criticize him for – and was now staring at his bare chest and swallowing.

Without wanting to, Padmé – or rather Senator Amidala – found herself contacting Director Clovis through her holoprojector in two days' time. She half-expected the message to not go through, but it did – of course it did, because Anakin was still the best at what he did even when he couldn't do his best.

”Padmé!” a flickering blue figure greeted her, his voice many things at a time – surprised, tired, elated, caught off-guard.

”Hello, Clovis,” she said, a little too coldly. ”I thought it polite to inquire – in a professional and cordial spirit – whether the negotiations are progressing smoothly?”

She had briefly holo'ed with Bail yesterday, the signal a little more unstable at the time. He had informed her that he and the junior Senator were only just settling in.

”Uh,” Clovis uttered, eyes tracing circles on the floor, hand scratching his neck. ”T-to be determined.” He gave an awkward laughter, still not meeting her eyes. A faint hum of interference seeped into the signal.

”Clovis, is everything alright there?”

He gave a brave smile.

”I… I do wish you were here, Padmé.”

Padmé sighed. Technically, she had officially pulled out of the professional side of things, and this was the reason. She had called Clovis of her own volition, against her better judgment, and if this is what he wanted to reward her with, if this what he wanted to have a discussion about, then so be it.

”Clovis, we talked about this. Your behavior during your stay here was inappropriate. I apologize for leading you on and for using you in the past, but frankly that is all the more reason not to bother with me, and instead focus on the demands of your new position. I almost filed a complaint on you, but I–”

He laughed again – now hollowly, snidely.

”And you would have been believed.”

Padmé tilted her head defensively.

”This was a mistake, Clovis. Good night.”

”No, wait!” he suddenly pleaded.

Padmé inclined her head, almost startled, wondering just how many moodswings this man would undergo in the space of a few minutes. But as he hesitated, opening his mouth to speak several times only to back down, Padmé had to take the opportunity to instead make her message clear once and for all.

”Clovis, despite… everything, I want to support you professionally, and I want you to succeed professionally. But I'm not going to be drawn into some imaginary love triangle when there's barely enough love here for a single one-way line.”

Clovis looked hurt – and maybe something else – scowling silently from under his brows.

Padmé had meant her words – the supportive and the hurtful. She knew that underneath that superiority-inferiority complex and his obsessive tendencies, her old friend possessed many great qualities. But she also knew that even had she not been with Anakin – Anakin. Why was it that the constant mention of her husband – or 'the Jedi Knight' – worried her the most?

To be sure, Anakin's anger issues had given her lots of concern in the past, and recently. But suddenly it struck her that Clovis had, at the very least, hit him back. And if Anakin could not get his obsession under control, Clovis would soon be in a position to hurt him again – more subtly – or vice versa – less subtly. Just what would it take for this man – for any man – to start to embrace their best qualities, instead of the very worst?

#anidala #Anakin Skywalker #Padme Amidala #anidala fanfiction #The Clone Wars #uuuggh again quickest edit ever so i apologize for any errors #and also the very very slow pace we have going #cause i like to... dwell on stuff i guess #i promise this is still going somewhere #kinda starting to hate the title it's kinda cheesy #but even that's gonna play a role #other than the dumbest pun ever #this is such a tonally weird story tho #some comedy there #angst here #yeah anyway thanks for reading everyone!!!! <3 <3<3 #star wars #fanfic

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gretagerwigarchive · 7 years ago

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Greta Gerwig wants to hug every Lady Bird crew member after Golden Globe nominations

by Devan Coggan, December 11, 2017

source: http://ew.com/movies/2017/12/11/greta-gerwig-lady-bird-golden-globes-nomination/

EW caught up with Gerwig after nominations were announced to get her reaction to the news and talk about why so many moviegoers are falling in love with Lady Bird.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Congratulations! How did you find out about the nominations this morning?

GRETA GERWIG: Thank you! Well, I knew they were coming out this morning. [laughs] I made myself sleep, and I said, “Don’t set an alarm. Sleep, wake up, make a cup of coffee, and then open your phone.” So I kind of forced myself to do everything, but I just wanted to look at my phone. And then I looked, and I had like 36 text messages and I thought, “Okay, something must have gone really well.” And then there was a lot of screaming and excitement and joy. That’s just sort of continued up until this moment. I think today is just going to be a full-on celebration screaming day.

The best kind of day.

It really is! [laughs] I’m just so proud of everybody who worked on it and so honored it was included in this year’s group of extraordinary movies. I want to see everyone who made the movie and give them a hug.

You’ve been nominated before as an actress, but what does it mean to you to be nominated for this film specifically?

Well, this is my first writing-directing solo situation, and it was nominated for Saoirse and Laurie and me and the movie. It’s like the most exciting thing ever! [laughs] And it’s a movie that was such a labor of love from everyone who made it that for it to be received this way and celebrated like this just means the world to me. We could never have anticipated this. It was just kind of this movie that we poured everything into, but you just never think it’s going to be received like this. It’s something that’s beyond our wildest everything.

Since the film has come out, the reaction has been so strong, and so many people have connected with Lady Bird and her story. Have you been surprised by how people have identified with it?

Yeah. I feel like movies are such a collaborative art form that it’s really the response to every single person who gave so much of themselves to the movie. There is this feeling of love around it because there was all the love that went into it.

And I also think it’s such a specific story, but it ends up being universal because it’s specific. I was in France and I was in the U.K., and I was talking to people there, and there were journalists saying, “I’ve never heard of Sacramento, but I feel like this is my story.” [laughs] It’s about home and how home is something you only really come to understand as you’re leaving it, and I think that’s something that everyone has a connection point with. That’s something that people can relate to. But it’s the wildest thing to be in a country that’s so far away, and yet they’re saying, “That’s me and my mom, and I grew up in Paris.” It’s very moving.

There’s that moment where Lady Bird and her mom go look at open houses, and I was sitting there, like, “My mom and I used to do that when I was growing up! Whenever we were sad or stressed, we’d do that and imagine what it’d be like to live there!” There’s a universality in that relationship that is so lovely.

Yeah! It’s funny, so many people have said, “I used to do that with my mom!” Men and women. It’s this thing where you go and almost imagine another life. Like maybe our lives would be perfect if we lived there. And I think people understand what that is.

As you mentioned, Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalf both got nominated too. What was it about each of them that made them the right people to portray these two characters?

They’re both just such formidable actresses in their strength, and also in their powers of empathy. They have such a deep need to communicate, and I think for me — I had cast Saoirse, and then I cast Laurie next — it was this feeling where they could really take each other in the best way in both love and conflict. They could hold what the other person was putting down because they’re both just so formidable as actresses. I think that even though we were telling this very specific story of one year of this life, they would be able to bring the sense of a whole life. And that was true for every single actor, but for me, the heart of the movie is really a love story between a mother and a daughter, and I knew I needed two women like that to inhabit that space and really give it the stakes of something that’s monumental, even though it’s about a quotidian life in some ways.

One of the other key relationships that I love in this film is the relationship between Lady Bird and her best friend, Julie. That friendship feels so smart and real. How did you approach that friendship between the two of them?

Well, Beanie Feldstein is a treasure. She walked into the audition and she basically gave the performance you see on the screen. She was just so funny and so real and so heartbreaking and so detailed. She knew exactly what this relationship was and how to play each moment.

And the thing that made me so happy was I had cast Saoirse early, and we had a year before we actually shot the movie. She was going to go be on Broadway in The Crucible. So there were times where I would just get her and Beanie together to just hang out. Not to make it perfect or rehearse the scenes, just so they could trade phone numbers and get some inside jokes going. They got so close as people that I felt like that really translated onto the screen, and the scenes that still make me so happy are the two of them cracking each other up. These two young women making each other laugh, and genuinely making each other laugh. We just kept rolling on them laughing because they so got under each other’s skin in the best way. They knew how to make each other break, and it was so much fun to watch because it did feel like we were just getting to document a friendship.

I also have to ask about the music because it’s such a wonderful element of this film. When you were sitting down to write the screenplay, did the music change or evolve over time, or did you always know, “These are the songs I want”?

I did write Alanis Morissette and Dave Matthews and Justin Timberlake and Ani DiFranco and Stephen Sondheim. Those were all written in. I didn’t really have a plan B when it came to those songs. [laughs] I just felt like I need these songs. I went on an extensive letter-writing campaign, and they were all so gracious and kind that they let me use their music. And then I had the good fortune of being able to work with Jon Brion, who’s one of my favorite film composers of all time. I knew I wanted the music that was playing in the world that these teenagers would listen to to be very specific and very clear and tell the story of the time, and then the score that exists in the world of the movie is this lush, romantic, achy, old-fashioned score. And he was able to understand what that juxtaposition was. So to me, when I think of the music of the movie, I think of those two things together and how they play off of each other.

That makes sense, having those two juxtaposed elements.

Jon Brion was so fun too, to work with. Especially because I’m not a musician, so it’s like somebody doing a magic show! I would explain a feeling to him and he’d play a chord and say, “Is that the feeling?” And I’d say, “How did you know the chord that went with the feeling!” He’s like, “That’s what I do!” It’s like, that’s amazing!

How did you approach 2002 without making it feel kitschy or like a throwback?

I think the thing for me was to treat everything with utmost respect and like it was very real. So to acknowledge the fact that, yes, this is a Justin Timberlake song that came out that year, but also the songs on the radio were still songs from the ’90s. Or cars on the street, not every single car was from that year. To sort of have the traces of earlier times in the year that it’s taking place. Because I feel like that always makes it feel more realistic to me. That was something with the production design and the way that we put the movie together that we were very careful about because we didn’t want it to be too cute. Even though it’s recent history, it still is not now.

In making this film and directing your first feature, was there anything about the process that really surprised you?

The thing I had a hunch about, but I didn’t know until I’d really done it, was how much I’d adore directing films. It’s absolutely the most fun I’ve had doing anything. I love directing films. I love working with a team. I love working with actors. I love being the person who’s able to bring all these people together with a common purpose. I thought I would love doing it, but then when you’re actually there, you think, “This is the best time I’ve ever had.” You don’t totally know how it’s going to work out.

And then in terms of challenges, I think one of the benefits of how long I’ve worked in film and how my film school happened on set — both in front of the camera and behind the camera — is that I knew in my bones that the difficulties that you’d face along the way in making a film were necessarily part of making a film. That doesn’t mean that the film is going to completely implode. That’s just part of it. Every day there’s going to be something that comes up that seems insurmountable. And then you all get your heads together and figure out how to get through it! [laughs] I think because of working in movies for so long, I knew that that was the path. That wasn’t some aberration from the path.

So I’m assuming you want to direct something else very soon?

Oh my God, there’s nothing I more want to do. I’m itching to do it again. [laughs] I also feel like it’s hard to codify what you’ve learned because so much of it is developing your intuition. It’s hard to break it down into, “I’ve learned the following 20 things!” But there was that feeling when I got to the end of it, like, I want to do this again right away because I have so much more information about how to do this and how to go ahead and how to push something forward. And it’s wanting to continue to grow and challenge myself. And the truth is, on the next one, it’ll be a whole new set of challenges. But I think you just keep adding to your toolbox. So yeah. One hundred percent. I can’t wait to get back on a set.

#2017 #Interview #Greta Gerwig #Lady Bird #Golden Globe Awards

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biofunmy · 5 years ago

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In a Year of Perpetual Motion, Moments That Stopped Time

The 52 Places Traveler

Looking back on a whirlwind journey around the world, the 52 Places Traveler revisits the experiences that offered lessons for travel — and life.

Jan. 6, 2020

On my second day back in New York I walked into my neighborhood bodega and the Yemeni man behind the counter did a double take.

“Damn, bro, what happened? I thought you were dead!” he said.

The following night, I went to pick up an order at the Indian restaurant two blocks from my apartment.

“Long time, no see,” said the Bangladeshi manager who, since I’ve been gone, has grown a bushy beard. “Where have you been?”

What happened? Where have I been? After nearly a year in perpetual transit, hopping between the far-flung spots on 2019’s 52 Places to Go list, these are not easy questions to answer. Maybe a more cohesive picture of a once-in-a-lifetime year will crystallize with time. For now, the best I can do is draw out the moments that float on the surface of my memory, the ones I’m most grateful for, as they taught me invaluable lessons not only about the world, but also about myself. And isn’t that why we travel?

1. When I said yes to goat-carcass games and urban lions

By the third hour in a field on the outskirts of Samarkand, Uzbekistan, my hair had taken on the hue of the dust that filled the air in roaming clouds. Every time I smiled, which was often, more dust poured into my mouth. Two hundred men on horseback galloped back and forth across the dry grass, in pursuit of their target: a goat carcass stuffed full of sand. Shouts from the riders, the whinnying of horses and the cheers of thousands of spectators filled the air. At one point, being the only foreigner — and so a guest of honor — I was invited to ride on the truck that drove onto the field to drop the goat and start each round of kopkari, a sport that originated with the nomadic herders who inhabited these steppes 1,000 years ago.

Six months later and 5,000 miles away, in a small suburb of Dakar, Senegal, “false lions” — men channeling the spirit of the animal — growled, leapt and twirled in elaborate costumes. Drums thundered at earsplitting volumes and children shrieked in delight as the lions chased them through the fluorescently lit streets.

There’s a natural tendency to plan our travels down to the minute: We want to make sure we’re getting the most out of a trip that uses up our valuable money and vacation time. Toward the beginning of the year, I spent hours planning each stop — going over notes on the plane ride and sketching out what each day might look like. By my final stop, I barely knew where I was going to stay until the day before I arrived. The sweet spot is probably somewhere in between, with enough planning to know where you’re going but enough flexibility to say yes to the unexpected. New friends and the currents of serendipity brought me to the horses and the lions — and gave me two experiences I’ll never forget.

2. When I became a member of the guild

Hanging from the zipper of my camera bag is a small, bronze key. It grants me access to the backdoor of the Christian IV’s Guild clubhouse in the Danish city of Aalborg. Over the past year, I’ve accumulated soccer jerseys, paintings and a handwritten poem about an Italian horse, but this key, a symbol of my membership in a Danish society with roots in World War II, has to be the oddest gift. How I got it is just one of many examples of how dropping your guard and letting strangers into your life can lead to experiences far outside the realm of conventional tourism.

It started with Kit Sorensen, a friend twice-removed, who I met on my first afternoon in Aalborg. By the evening, she had taken off work for the remainder of the week to show me around. She took me out for pickled fish and aquavit, the straight-to-your-head spirit that Danes insist on drinking with lunch. Together, we explored World War II bunkers and the city-within-a-city of Fjordbyen. Sensing that I craved a home-cooked meal, she invited me to her family’s house, where I made even more friends — and got invited by a stranger to join the Christian IV’s Guild because he felt that “I had what it takes.”

When traveling alone, it’s up to you how alone you really are. Sit at a bar and take a break from your phone and in minutes you’ll be getting a laundry list of things to do from a local — as I did in Munich, in Danang, in Tunis. You might be invited to their homes — as I was in Georgia, Puerto Rico, Bulgaria. In a quiet bar in the small Japanese city of Takamatsu you might find yourself the only customer, going on a deep dive into salsa and New Orleans jazz with a cat-loving bartender who you would have never known if you hadn’t smiled and said “hello.”

There are walls that as a man traveling alone I didn’t have to put up. Being ethnically ambiguous was also, it turns out, my superpower, blending into the streets of so many places around the world, walking home at night and not even getting a second glance from locals. One’s experience of the world so often depends on one’s identity, and I can only speak to mine. At the same time, I believe that, in general, travelers will encounter kindness far more often than hostility. An open mind, a willingness to learn and an acknowledgment of our own ignorance about a new place or culture flings the doors that separate us wide open. Just ask all my new pen pals.

3. When I became my own best friend on a Norwegian fjord

Before a six-hour solo hike in the fjords surrounding Bergen, Norway, I intentionally left my headphones at home. It was sunny — a rarity for one of Europe’s rainiest cities — and I wanted to be present. It worked. I felt the light, cold breeze; I could smell the dewy grass and feel the foamlike tundra giving way under my boots. Six hours is a lot of time to be walking with nothing but your thoughts, but not once did I feel bored.

When I started this trip, the thought of spending so much time alone was one of my biggest worries. I’m an extrovert by nature. By my third month on the move, I was getting used to it. By my ninth, I was having full-on conversations with myself — out loud.

There’s something beautiful about learning to be comfortable with yourself — especially on the road. I could zero in on moments more completely without worrying whether a companion was having a good time. I could create memories that would be mine and mine alone — building blocks for my development as a person.

I was lonely, too, of course. I cried on the side of a Wyoming highway because John Prine’s “Summer’s End” came on the radio (“Come on home, you don’t have to be alone”); during a nearly four-hour meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant on the Dutch island of Texel, I fell into the abyss of staring at my phone; more than once I dreamed about being on my couch at home, with my partner and cat. But over time, I learned to see those moments coming and lean into them. That threw the distinction between heart-wrenching loneliness and blissful solitude into relief; it made the moments of connection with strangers that much more magical. Solo travel is so many things, psychological roller coaster included.

4. When I crossed the risk line on a dark Chilean highway

It was stupid, plain and simple. After getting off a series of canceled, rerouted and delayed flights that took me from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, to Santiago, Chile, over the course of about 40 hours, I stumbled into a rental car just after sunset and hit the road for the town of La Serena. I was heading 300 miles north to get closer to where I’d be viewing the solar eclipse in a few days. It was about 40 degrees Fahrenheit, but I drove with the windows down and wore a T-shirt, hoping the cold would keep me awake. I blared death metal as loud as the car speakers could handle. I drank coffee like water. One tollbooth worker, seeing my disheveled and wired state, asked me if I was okay. I pulled into La Serena well after midnight.

This year was full of risks; they come with the job when traveling at the pace I was, alone and looking for stories to tell. Within just a few days of traveling this year, it was clear that some risks are worth taking. Getting into a car with that nice stranger promising a plate of life-changing pork in Puerto Rico’s interior? I can handle that. Solo hiking through the snowy Tatra Mountains of Slovakia? Armed with a trail map, I’m good. Driving for five and a half hours in an unfamiliar country, at night, after a hellish flight and no sleep? Nope: That was stupid.

In talking to friends, it quickly became clear that my threshold for risk is different from others’ (“Are you nuts?” my partner asked, after I told her about my night in the woods outside Batumi, Georgia, drinking myself blind with a bunch of strangers). But travel is ultimately a game of choose-your-own-adventure and part of that choice is figuring out the risks you’re comfortable taking. It’s a learning process and there will be mistakes — there sure were for me this year.

By Land and Sea

48 boat rides, 45 train trips

5. When my plans went to hell and I survived

There was the late night in a hotel in Salvador, Brazil, booking a trip to Mexico that would start the following morning, after my plans to get to the Falkland Islands, also known as the Islas Malvinas, had imploded. A total meltdown at the airport had led to check-in lines that extended past the terminal’s entrance. Despite arriving four hours before my flight and checking in online, I missed my flight — and as a result the once-weekly flight to the Falklands.

There was that scorching hot morning at the port in Banjul, Gambia, where my brother and I had no choice but to wait the four hours until a ferry finally arrived. I sweated out every drop of moisture in my body; I downed two liters of water and sweated that out, too, until the also-shadeless ferry arrived.

There was the carefully arranged Airbnb in La Serena that my host canceled with no explanation, just days before my arrival to watch the solar eclipse. I spent most of a night in Mexico, on spotty Wi-Fi looking for alternatives in a city that would be tripling in population for the eclipse.

There was the moment, three months in, when we had to make the call to cut Iran from my travel plans. The geopolitical situation had grown tense and even if I were given a journalist visa (unlikely), we had security concerns. It made the regular messages I received from Iranians on Instagram welcoming me to their country and offering to be my hosts all the more heartbreaking.

Things go wrong when traveling. And there’s something about the places of travel — airports, ferry terminals, train stations, hotels — that magnify feelings of panic and sadness. It’s a powerlessness we’re not used to when we think we have every detail of a trip planned out.

I learned that there’s very little you can do when your plans fall apart. I learned to pinpoint the small actions I could take and leave everything else to play out without me. I started on a long, circuitous route to Mexico the next day and pushed my Falklands trip to later in the month. The ferry did arrive — and 24 hours later, my brother and I were on a boat floating feet away from wild chimpanzees. I found another Airbnb at the last minute, and so what if it was a little farther out of the city? I kept in touch with my new online Iranian friends, promising that one day I would make it there — and I will.

Traveling is an incredible privilege and it’s mind-boggling how easy it is these days to cross the planet. Reminding myself of that got me through many a moment this year that previously would have left me a weepy mess on an airport floor.

under the sea

11 total hours underwater

6. When “no one goes there now” became my time to go

Travel itself, regardless of destination, is taking its toll on the environment: The most frequent, and valid, criticism I’ve received this year is for my Sasquatch-size carbon footprint. While no one at the Times is encouraging everyone to go to 52 places in a year — I’d think again if you are planning on trying this yourself — I also don’t believe the answer is not to travel. To see the natural wonder that still abounds; to encounter the places that are on the verge of catastrophic change because of a warming planet; to meet the people who deal with its effects every day and forge real, profound, cross-cultural connections makes for a more informed, empathetic world. That doesn’t mean there aren’t steps we can take to be more responsible travelers. And part of that is realizing that sustainability goes beyond carbon emissions.

The Falklands in the dead of winter, when I had a colony of King penguins to myself; Mexico in the crushing heat of summer, when the beaches were empty; Senegal and Gambia during the most humid month of the year, when locals were actually excited to see visitors who had braved it; Siberia’s Lake Baikal, in neither the glorious summer nor the spectacularly frozen winter, but instead in autumn, when the trees burn bright yellow.

In planning my trip and limiting cross-continental treks as much as possible, it proved difficult to be everywhere at the “right” time to visit. But again and again, I found myself falling for low season, when it was far easier to blend into the fabric of daily life because I wasn’t just part of a horde of tourists changing the face of entire cities for months at a time.

Cities like Venice — or even Zadar, in Croatia, as I saw when I arrived in the summer — are buckling under the weight of overtourism. As travelers, we could make a difference by spreading the wealth, so to speak. That means, for the most adventurous, going to places that are still hard to get to; it took me two tries to get to the Falklands and three to get out, but that made it special. But it also means thinking outside the “Europe in summer” paradigm.

taking to the skies

40 airlines, 88 flights (only 1 missed flight)

7. When I really learned what a “place to go” is

There’s beauty, surprise and genuine wonder to be found everywhere — and I mean everywhere. A Vegas naysayer can have his mind changed through a chance encounter with a crew of rockabilly musicians. A half-Indian student of history can learn about a mighty Indian empire, of which he knew nothing, by coming face-to-face with its ruins. A traveler can come home after 11 grueling months of continuous travel and start dreaming of where he’s going next.

But first, some sleep.

Sahred From Source link Travel

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itsallavengers · 8 years ago

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SO I WROTE THE ANGST (which u can find here if u want) AND. DIED A LITTLE BIT INSIDE. But,,, it’s his birthday,,, I can’t just write angst,,, so... *throws fluff in your face*

“Morning, beautiful,”

Tony squinted, rolling a little further into the warm embrace that he knew was Steve’s arms and groaning softly. “No. Too early. Call back in an hour.”

Steve laughed, lips brushing softly over Tony’s hair. “It’s 11. I’ve been lying in for 3 hours, now.”

Tony smiled, kissing Steve’s chest as he did so. “Have you just been lying there watching me this whole time? Pervert,”

“Guilty,” was all Steve said, before rolling himself on top of Tony, elbows resting against the bed to stop his weight from crushing into Tony’s arc reactor. He leaned down a little, kissing Tony’s nose. “Happy birthday, darling,”

Tony paused, brow furrowing for a moment before it dawned on him. “You remembered my birthday?”

Steve shot him a look, part frown, part fond exasperation as he kissed Tony again. “We go through this every year, babe. Yes, I remembered your birthday. I’m slightly offended that you thought I wouldn’t, to be honest.”

Tony shrugged, pouting a little as he arched up into Steve’s touch, hands wrapping around his neck and mouth finding Steve’s. “Does this mean,” he whispered in between kisses, “crazy morning s-”

“Nope,” Steve interrupted, pushing Tony’s hips back on to the bed before rolling off him, grinning cheekily, because he was a motherfucking tease, “There’s food cooking- and the team said they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

Tony groaned, sprawling out on the sheets ad smushing his face further into the pillows. “But it’s my birthday-”

“And the team are going to come barging up here with pitchforks unless we hurry up,” Steve interrupted, throwing on a shirt and smiling as he crossed the room and jumped back on the bed, crawling over to Tony and covering his face with kisses, despite the man’s giggling protests.

“Steve, stop it, I thought we needed to h-h-hurry!” Tony wheezed, as Steve dug into his ribs and tickled, mouth moving across Tony’s face and strategically, covering every area he could find.

Steve paused, nipping Tony’s ear lightly before sitting up and sitting on his knees, still beaming. “Correct. Let’s go, Stark, get a move on, we don’t have all day- you’ve already spent half of it asleep.”

Tony groaned again, but allowed Steve to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him up. He took the opportunity to slide his arms around Steve’s shoulders again, mouth on the other man’s neck. “Are you very sure we can’t just-”

“I’m not going to let you tempt me, Tony,” Steve said, biting his lip and unwrapping Tony from his neck. It looked like he was having a tough time believing his own words, but he kept firm, yanking them both up into standing and then maneuvering Tony until he was facing the direction of his wardrobe. “We will definitely be coming back to that later, though.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tony said, pulling out some comfy clothes from the bottom of his wardrobe and throwing them on. “By the way you’re talking, I’m guessing you’ve got plans for me.”

Steve nodded, watching Tony dress. “Yep.”

“Care to give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve excessive amounts of peril, I’m good. Medium amounts of peril are fine, though. Also no nudity on Clint’s part.”

Steve paused, but altogether he didn’t seem that shocked by Tony’s wishes, which said something about their lives, really. “I told Clint explicitly that no clothes were to be removed, don’t worry. As for the peril, I’m pretty sure there will be none. Although, you know, I can’t exactly promise that.”

Tony just shrugged, walking over to where Steve was sat on the bed and slotting himself between his knees. “Eh, that was pushing it anyway.”

Steve laughed, taking Tony’s hands and kissing the palms, before wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him in, pressing his face to Tony’s stomach. “Happy birthday,” he said again.

Tony stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair, shutting his eyes and letting the sound of Steve’s breathing take over.

Well. For about three seconds, anyway. After that, their moment of peace was rudely interrupted by four other people as they kicked the door open and piled in.

Tony sighed as he was rounded on and pulled away from Steve, who was just sitting there with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eye. The team had a very thorough hold on him, so there wasn’t much point in trying to fight them off. He just let them haul him up and carry him down the stairs, while Steve laughed and trailed along behind him.

“Which one of you creeps is feeling my ass?” He yelled.

“Apologies, Tony, there is no other space to hold,” Thor said, giving him a look that meant there were plenty of other spaces to hold, he was just a little shit.

Once they’d kidnapped him, it didn’t take long for all of them to end up in the communal kitchen, dropping Tony gently on the table and then pressing a mug of coffee immediately into his hands.

“Thanks Brucie,” he said, because it was only Bruce who knew how to make coffee just right- everyone else had yet to learn the art.

“Right! When do we get to do presents?” Clint asked the room, clapping his hands and then slow-motion punching Tony in the face, because he was a five-year-old.

“No time like the present,” Natasha shrugged, and then paused, eyes widening a little. “That... that was not a pun. If any of you mention that ever again I’ll break your fingers.”

Tony laughed, and Natasha saw, but she just rolled her eyes and smiled a little, squeezing his arm. “We had a long think about what to get you this year- it was kinda difficult, as always, to buy anything for you, considering the fact you are a billionaire and can therefore buy anything you so desire.”

“So we were like- what do you do for a guy who has everything?” Clint cut in theatrically, before whipping an envelope out of his pocket and grinning. “Why, you do him favors, of course.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, as he took the envelope from Clint’s hands. “This better not implode upon opening-”

“I can vouch for Clint, don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning on the counter opposite Tony and smiling. “No explosions.”

Tony nodded, and ripped open the envelope. Inside, there were three strips of paper, with hand-written sentences in the middle of them. He furrowed his brow curiously as he removed them, reading them quickly.

5 free passes to the TV, even when I’m watching it, because it seems 80% of all our fights stem from arguments over who wants what.

1 team-up against Natasha. Only one. She’s scary and will kill us both if we do it any more than that.

5 ‘leave me the fuck alone’ opportunities. You invoke this slip and say those words, and I’m gone, no questions asked.

Tony looked up, confused. “What the hell does this mean?”

“It means,” Clint rolled his eyes and hopped on the table next to Tony, “that these are favors you can ask- no arguments allowed- of me, contractually signed and agreed upon. Only for the amount of times it says on the slip, though, I’m not that easy.”

Tony stared at them for another few seconds, before a smile broke out on his face, and he looked at Clint, eyes sparkling. “Thank you. I’m going to savor the fuck out of these for years, you know. Save them for special occasions. Or maybe I’ll do them all at once, and make you my slave for the day.”

Clint frowned, but Tony pulled him into a hug and then let go, turning to Natasha as she held out an envelope of her own. “Wait- you’ve all done this?”

“Yes. Decided to switch things up for a change, you know?” She explained, shoving her present into his hands and then turning away to grab some food. Tony knew she didn’t like her kindness being acknowledged, but when Tony read her slips, he jumped off the table and pulled her into a tight hug anyway, which she luckily returned.

One by one, he received all the favors off each teammate- from ‘will let you ride on the Great Stallion of Asgard through the meadows of Gold’ from Thor to ‘I’ll get you coffee whenever you ask for a whole month’ from Bruce.

It was perfect and thoughtful and by the time he got around to Steve’s envelope, he was already feeling pretty emotional.

Smiling, he opened the letter and pulled out its contents. There were three slips, the same as everyone else, and Steve had bordered them with little cartoon drawings of the whole team. It looked adorable,,and Tony grinned up at Steve, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down for a kiss before he continued.

The whole team were positively beaming, and everyone seemed to have forgotten how to stand still- even Steve was fiddling with his hands as Tony read through the first note.

I’ll grow a beard on three different occasions for a month- I know how much you want to see it on me.

Tony laughed, imagining clean-cut, lovely Steve with a scruffy lumberjack beard. “Yeah, I’m using the first one right now. No shaving for a month, baby.”

Steve laughed nervously as Tony continued.

You can order to me get to bed if I’m in a shitty mood and still working at the gym. 10 times, non-negotiable on my side.

Tony smiled softly, nodding his head. “That sure will come in useful. Thank you, Steve.”

At this point, the entire room was pretty much vibrating on the spot, and Tony was a little nervous as to what the last one was going to be. He looked at Steve curiously, eyebrow raised, and Steve just nodded at the last slip, biting his lip.

Curious and a little excited, Tony read through the last line.

This one isn’t so much doing a favor for you as it is me, but- you’d make the happiest man in the galaxy if you would let me have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you, as your husband. If you’ll have me. Unlimited offer.

Tony stared at the words for a long time. When he looked up, Steve was on one knee, and there was a ring held between his fingers.

He raised an eyebrow, scarlet in the face. His hand was shaking a little, but there was the same determined look in his eyes that he kept for battles.

Like Tony agreeing was ever going to be a battle.

“Oh my god. Yes. Holy shit, yes, Steve.”

The room erupted in yells and cheers, and Steve’s eyes widened in shock as Tony jumped off the table and slid down until he was able to throw himself at Steve, burying his face in the other mans shoulder and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight his knuckles were white. “Yes, yes, yes, holy shit, I love you Steve, yes-”

Steve kissed him, cutting off the ramble, but they had to stop when both of them began laughing uncontrollably. Steve looked down at Tony, wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down and kissing him again. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And I’m going to be the best husband you could ever hope for, Tony Stark. I promise.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment it seemed Thor lost patience and tackled them both to the floor, hugging them tight enough to bruise. Not that Tony gave a damn, mind.

He was marrying Steve.

“Group hug!” The God yelled, and Steve was laughing, tears still in his eyes as he rolled Tony into his arms and leaned over him, making sure he wasn’t crushed as four other superheroes launched themselves on top of them, whooping and yelling and (In Clint’s case, anyway) removing their shirts to swing them like lassos.

Tony felt like he was dreaming. Like he was floating on a level of euphoria that anyone else had yet to reach.

He was marrying Steve.

“Clint, what did we say about keeping our clothes on?” Someone groaned, and Tony could feel the vibrations of Steve laughing on top of him, his face crinkled and smiling from ear to ear.

He was marrying Steve.

“Happy fucking birthday,” He said to himself, stealing a kiss before the whole pile rolled and fell down the set of stairs that lead to the living room.

#tony stark #steve rogers #stevetony #avengers #marvel #superhusbands #FLUFFY VERSION OF TONY BIRTHDAY FICS #YAY

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anodyne-sunflower · 8 years ago

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Love me like you do (Part 5)-Balem series

A/N: I recycled a character from another Balem fic I did haha I’m too lazy to make another….goddamn you Balem and your charming ways. Making Reader not give in is so hardddd. Also, I feel like this chapter sucked but…well eh. lol it’ll get better. ❤️

****

Slowly, people began to walk into the banquet hall, each one dressed in fine clothing that spoke volumes of their status. You had no clue as to who any of them were, but they looked important. In fact, you’d imagine if you were invited to dine with Balem you had to be someone special. Though, you ventured a guess this was strictly business not for pleasure.

“Here.”

You looked up to see another girl handing you the pitcher you left on the table, and with a smile she walked off to gather some food. Being Balem’s personal waitress was hardly a gift, but when you thought deep on it, the choices before you weren’t plentiful. So, with all the pride you could swallow, you sighed and walked over to the stern looking man, standing beside him as he glanced at everyone entering the room.

“Wine.”

Balem held his chalice up, not meeting your gaze but directing his demand at you. There was something degrading about it all, and as much as you wanted to throw the wine over his head you didn’t. You lifted the pitcher, pouring him half a glass and backing off just enough to give him some space. He eyed the chalice for a moment, before taking a sip and placing it on the table.

“I’m expecting good news.”

His smooth voice rang through the hall, and just like that the entire room went silent, and alert as they all turned to their host. Balem tapped his nail along the arm of the throne he was in, eyes set straight ahead at the businessmen. He looked displeased already and no one had even spoken up.

“My Lord, we-”

Balem held his hand up, gesturing towards another man who sat near him. This man looked a bit older, his hair white, and beard a peppery color. He was clad in gray and silver, gold rings adorning his fingers as he stood up to address the room.

“As you’re all quite aware by now, the proposition that was placed before me was the allowance of towers to be built upon my land.”

As he spoke his eyes trailed over to the First Primary, an amused glint in his eye as he explained the reasoning behind his visit.

“Lord Balem, our most gracious host, has offered me a generous sum to do this. While I was against this before, I believe this may actually increase all of our lives in a very positive way.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with his own words and reached for the tablet in the middle of the table. He tapped across it, waving his hand over it as he fixed a hologram of charts and numbers in the center of the room.

To say you were in awe of the technology would be an understatement, but you stood silently next to Balem, trying not to look like you just found out other life existed. It was hard not to stand out though, and you shifted awkwardly on your heels as you waited for your captor’s next demand. But, he was far too preoccupied with the holograms in front of him, and he squinted at them as if he was trying to find any errors in the numbers.

“You’ve done your research, Mr. Salik.”

The First Primary rested his cheek upon his hand, calculating the business profits in his head as he looked upon the graphs. He seemed content with it, but there was something nagging at you. Like the room itself was slowly building a tension that was ready to implode on itself.

“Profits would increase by 10% within the month, my lord.”

This Mr. Salik person smiled widely, proud of his research, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was some ulterior motive behind it. But, business wasn’t something you were great at, especially when it came to intergalactic meetings. However, you always had a great intuition, and something told you this wasn’t right.

Balem leaned back into his throne, fingers settled over his lips in deep thought. He clearly wanted more explanation behind all this, and he looked over at Mr. Salik as he spoke.

“And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes, my lord. We’ve done all the research, extending your refinery to my land will in fact increase everyone’s stocks, including your own. As of now the house of Abrasax is the head of all families in business, with this business plan it would be almost untouchable.”

He lost you at that point, and your head almost started hurting at the mention of all the numbers and every individual family. It wasn’t something you understood even a little, so you just set your mind elsewhere. You thought of your small apartment back home, and your odd yet somehow charming neighbors. It was strange though, how even though it was something you were accustomed to, you couldn’t quite say you missed it much. Maybe because there wasn’t much to go back to. However, being there was more appealing than some palace filled with aliens hell bent on destroying planets.

“Wine.”

Balem lifted his chalice once more, holding it out towards you as he continued his conversation with the men at the table. The arrogant ass, you thought. But, you still filled his cup, frowning the entire time and as you pulled away you caught his gaze. You both seemed to stare at each other for a minute, not moving, just observing as if that would help you better understand one another. Except, as he looked at you his mind seemed to be elsewhere and his green eyes slowly descended on your chest, admiring the perfect view of your cleavage. The low cut dress you wore clung to every curve of your upper body, and you could practically feel him undressing you with his stare alone. It was uncomfortable, especially in front of all these other men who were basically doing the same thing, just not as obvious as he was. Though, judging by their initial stares you guessed they realized you ‘belonged’ to this lord and him alone. No doubt no one attempted to take what was his.

You moved the pitcher closer to your body, covering your exposed skin and blushing softly as you straightened up to your full height. You looked away from him, gnawing on your lower lip as he chuckled slightly. Thankfully, no one appeared to care for the exchange between you two, and they continued on with their business conversations.

“So, can we expect your payment soon, Lord Balem?”

Salik smirked over at him, one arm behind his back as waved at the First Primary in question. Balem merely hummed back in response, holding his chalice up in acknowledgment as he took a quick sip.

“And when can I build these towers?”

The pitcher began to grow empty, and you took that as your chance to get away for a bit. You turned on your heel, rolling your eyes when you were out of sight and headed towards the large table just outside.

“Assholes, the lot of them.”

You flipped the tap of the barrel that hung on the side, filling the pitcher back up to the rim with wine. It still felt too overwhelming to return to him, so you risked the small moment of freedom to just stand idly by around the food. Nothing on the platters looked remotely familiar, and you made a face at most of it. You weren’t even sure any of this was meat, let alone vegetables or fruit. But, your stomach was in need of sustenance, so with a hesitant hand you reached towards the small glowing orbs on the silver plate, scrunching your nose at how slimy they felt. It was like a smooth gelatinous type of morsel, that held its shape really well even when you squished it down between your fingers. It wasn’t something you’d normally go for, but hunger can make people try crazy things. You popped it into your mouth, squealing as soon as the strong bitter flavor hit your tongue.

You made mumbling noises, waving your hands around as you tried to figure out where to spit it. Biting down wasn’t even an option right now, and you glanced around desperately only to find two royals walking by with odd stares. They both looked you over in disgust, as if they’d expect better of Balem’s servants, but when they got a closer look at your face they smiled.

The well dressed woman leaned over to the man giggling as she fed him lies.

“That’s Lord Balem’s new play thing. Picked her right off earth they say.”

They both laughed at her words, and you narrowed your eyes at the both of them, wanting to speak up and defend your honor only to realize you had more important matters to deal with. Like where to spit out glowing alien food and not be punished for it.

“Girl!”

You looked up to see Mr. Night glaring at you, his rat like features twisted in annoyance as he waved you back into the hall. “Hurry up! Lord Balem is not the most patient of men and he’s out of wine.”

“Mmhm.”

It was all you could manage to say, and he gave you a weird look before scoffing and heading back inside leaving you to figure out your issue for yourself. It took forever, but with whatever willpower you had you bit down on the treat, gagging at how awful it tasted before swallowing quickly.

“Oh god…”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, shaking off your disgust and grabbing the pitcher before Balem himself came sauntering out to find you. As you entered the room again you could feel the stares on you, and as much as you tried to ignore their lecherous gazes it was becoming increasingly difficult to put up with. You passed Salik on your way to Balem’s side, gasping when you felt his hand brush against your behind. You swiftly turned, face a bright red and before you could even say anything the older man laughed.

“And where did you find this one, Lord Balem?”

The room was heavy with silence, and you stood, mouth agape, as Salik just looked you over with desire written on his features.

“She’s quite charming…”

Salik reached his hand towards you, and you felt your anger slowly rising. The pitcher shook a bit in your hand, your rage getting the best of you but before you could pour the wine over his ugly face a hand gripped yours and you looked down to see Balem pulling you towards him.

“Take the wine.”

He waved over another servant, and you watched as a young boy quickly grabbed the container from you. In the heat of the moment you hadn’t realized how close you were to possibly offending his guests, but frankly they deserved it.

Balem’s hand remained over your own, and with a rough tug he pulled you down into his throne and onto his lap. You gripped his clothing in shock, looking up at him as he curled you into his chest. His eyes scanned over you for a moment, but he just as quickly glanced over to the man who would dare touch his property. You expected him to yell, to scream and threaten death to all in the room, instead he smirked. It was an odd reaction to you, but there was an anger in his eyes that only you seemed to be privy to.

“Mr. Salik…”

His voice was even, almost eerily calm as he lifted your hand in his. He pulled it towards his mouth, smirk still upon his lips as he dragged them across your knuckles in a possessive yet somehow charming manner. “She is rather captivating, isn’t she?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making you stiffen under his intimate touch. You never expected him to be this…kind to you right now, at least not in this way. Sure, he was obviously attracted to you, but this hardly seemed the reaction he’d normally have. Maybe it was all the wine he had consumed, but you believed he was the type of man who held his drink well.

“Yes, quite.”

Salik, unaware of the rage glowing behind Balem’s green eyes, smiled even wider, licking his lips in a manner that made you shrink back in disgust. However, Balem didn’t let up on his show of ownership, he just pulled you flush against him, your breasts almost against his cheek as he led his lips up your sternum. You froze in his hold, face no doubt a brilliant shade of red as he pressed his lips into your heated skin. Normally, if any man touched you like this without a warning you’d of slapped them hard on the cheek. Yet, with him, all your senses seemed to stop and your thoughts became a jumbled mess of panicked screams.

“Then let me make this perfectly clear, Mr. Salik…”

Balem stopped his hot trail of kisses at your collarbone, his eyes coming up to meet yours as he said the last part of his sentence.

“Touch her again, and I will have your head decorating my walls.”

With every word his tone began to rise, the anger now very clear to all in the room. You could almost feel the dread that ran along all their spines, and as Salik made to open his mouth and speak Balem held his finger up and screamed.

“SILENCE!”

He turned his rage filled gaze towards the older man, corner of his lip twitching as he tried to stop himself from being rash. You flinched a bit at his yelling, hand clutching his shoulder tighter to maintain some balance in his lap. It was all too clear that he didn’t take kindly to those who touched his things, and his mood swing was proof enough of that.

He gritted his teeth, jaw tightening as he leaned back into his throne. His eyes didn’t leave Salik’s and he took one last sip of wine before tossing his cup on the table unceremoniously.

“Leave us. NOW!”

All the other businessmen scrambled out of their chairs, heading out of the banquet hall as Balem kept his gaze fixed on the old man. You could tell Salik was frightened, yet you had to give him some credit for sticking around and attempting to meet Balem’s gaze with equal fervor.

“Balem, I will not stand to be humiliated-”

“Understand this, Mr. Salik. I will build my towers on your miserable planet tomorrow. With your consent.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give you it now? I rescind my offer, and all the others will know that you’re the reason they lost profit.”

Salik stood from the table, throwing his napkin to the table and turning to storm out the room. Before he could make it to the doors the guards shut them, holding their weapons in front of him.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Balem looked over his shoulder, gesturing for a servant to come get you. “Take her to my chambers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They bowed, and gently removed you from his lap as they rushed you out the room.

****

“How disappointing. I’d of admired your spirit more if you put up a fight.”

Balem paced around the throne room, eyeing the tablet he held with a pleased look on his face. The contract was set, and the rights to all of Salik’s holdings were now in his possession with no one to contest it.

“Balem! Do not do this!”

The First Primary looked down at the floor, the marbled tiling becoming transparent as the harvesting docks became visible beneath. Mr. Salik was laid inside one, squirming around in a panic as the needles and saws drew near his body. His screaming was muffled by the thick walls, and Greeghan stood above him, awaiting his Lord’s command.

“You promised!!! I gave you what you wanted now release me! I beg of you!”

Balem ignored his cries, and instead walked up the steps towards his hovering throne as he turned dramatically and sat upon it. He crossed his legs, looking down at the pathetic man with an amused expression.

With one wave of his hand, Greeghan growled darkly and pulled down on the lever, and the only sound in the room was that of Salik’s pained screams.

****

A/N: If there was mistakes…well, oops. I never proofread because I’m lazy. Haha. Feedback welcomed!

#balem x reader #balem abrasax x reader #balem #balem abrasax #Balem x you #jupiter ascending

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forexrupeesreal-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The Genesis Of Depression And Ways To Handle It

There is no space for a divine being talented life to be demolished by whatever may flag a baldfaced interruption to its clean security and life span, particularly in light of the way that not every one of the general population are rich enough to manage the cost of the expense of value therapeutic medications accessible.

mental health first aid

However, of course, some impulsive (unhygienic) side interests like swelling up your gut with crunchy, fresh, salty stuffs, stationary pleasure of watching numbskull box programs, and reviling the morning timer for its prompt, determined buzz to endeavor to get you up in the first part of the day - these side interests on the whole contribute improvement of an unfortunate constitution.

Furthermore, truly, there's no awesome anger associated with your experiencing certain difficult or serious infection, accuse your wrong way of life and everything undesirable that you accomplished for a transient delight.

In the setting that life is a wonderful thing not to be destroyed on account of undesirable practices, this article discusses dejection, an exceptionally sickening and purposely welcomed psychological maladjustment, that (as indicated by some restorative reports) have familial association with some lethal sicknesses, cardiovascular notwithstanding. Endless supply of supporting and without quality prescription, dejection can snuff the light out of the discouraged.

All in all, what is discouragement? In particular, is there any solid signal to make sense of the wretchedness early and halt it from the beginning? Would we be able to depend on restorative medicines for dejection? How to know whether I am influenced with gloom? Would it be able to execute the sufferer?

All things considered, interestingly, I am not an ensured specialist or therapist who should have broad learning about this kind of psychological instability. Nonetheless, I agree this malady connotes a patient's imploding negative contemplations, twirling inside him like an insane, exceedingly torqued tornado, which after achieving a specific dimension of furthest point, obstructs all the approaching (positive) musings into the psyche and make the injured individual discouraged.

Inevitably, it disables the patient's self discipline to deal with the implosion of negative/critical musings. At the inevitable condition of the despondency, the patient may incite into anything considered (as indicated by his caution) a healing answer for the psychological issue, and that may incorporate self-destructive endeavor too.

Truly, melancholy may actuate a patient to end it all. This connotes patient's achieving zero-resistance level towards the imploding train of negative contemplations. You may have seen numerous individuals showing capricious practices like conversing with self in broad daylight, being lost in dream, and distracted gazing at something for quite a while. They show the indication of despondency.

The feeling of dissimilarity promptly overwhelms the discouraged - my very own acknowledgment in the wake of putting in some days in the lap of gloom brought about by some self-welcomed awful conditions (I understood a few people purposefully welcome despondency by wrong choices taken incautiously and without thinking about the results).

Is it conceivable to remember you are discouraged?

Indeed, gave that you are very much aware of the idea, dejection.

There are numerous who botch 'considering' for discouragement, as both take after somebody's acquiescence to perpetual meditation.

In the event that you see these physical and mental side effects in many cases, time to be caution or look for therapeutic consideration as they flag result of melancholy (and I am not talking thorough medicinal indications, simply the normal ones):

When you are discouraged, your response to rest, eating, every day exercises and conduct is atypical. Means, you don't react to them as normal as you have been. For example, the discouraged ones don't proceed with their day by day exercises like morning exercise, rising promptly toward the beginning of the day, resigning to bed on time. They create hesitance to their most loved diversions; regardless of whether they are composing, perusing or swimming. I wager, despite the fact that some discouraged ones do these exercises in any case, they come up short on the 'once bubbly' and energetic enthusiasm.

There is an irregularity in the manner in which you carry on with individuals or family. State for instance, if your father all of a sudden goes into your examination room without thumping at the entryway, your reaction under discouragement... sound antagonistic, and that is passed on through the tone of your voice. Here, don't be mixed up that melancholy is a progressive procedure of improvement; it might influence you whenever in some random minute, contingent upon your responsiveness.

How to abstain from getting discouraged?

The brilliance of numerous maxims lies in the excellence of their respected knowledge paying little respect to how we acknowledge them. One of the aphorisms - counteractive action is superior to fix - stresses the importance here, telling that psychological scatters like wretchedness should be kept under control on the grounds that just avoidance is the best treatment against its event.

Presently you may address how to keep despondency under control.

Indeed, the appropriate response is you have to perceive those things that trigger feeling of dejection in you.

Melancholy can be turned away by perceiving the underlying driver of its beginning. When you are discouraged, you feel uneasiness, you respond to things or individuals cruelly, and you don't act legitimately either. Likewise, you think a great deal, particularly contrarily. The best healing answer for discouragement is to dodge at all cost each one of those things or individuals who give you negative vibes.

William Gibson once stated:

"Before you determine yourself to have sadness or low confidence, first ensure that you are not, truth be told, simply encircle yourself with dolts."

I read some place that life is 10% of the end result for us and 90% of our response to those happenings. This statement is exceptional as in it helped me realize how to react to a specific happening emphatically. To react it by uplifting frame of mind, I, most importantly, need to get to its base. Means, I have to perceive what it is before I react.

The dimension of wretchedness may bother or diminish contingent upon your disposition of reacting to the things that trigger it.

May be this suggestion may turn the majority of perusers off, yet since it helped me, I trust, it might be useful for other people. Besides, reliance on directing or restorative treatment will render you nothing with the exception of sucking all your well deserved salary.

When I read a distress auntie segment where a specialist in the matter of brain research was proposing to a question of a crowd of people experiencing wretchedness, letting him know not to do either, pursue various stuff... what's more, there is no reason to worry!

In fact speaking, I have never depended on restorative treatment of dejection since I understood this was a psychological issue and like any psychological issue, it was the patient and his self discipline that relieved it.

Why it is important to perceive the main driver of misery?

Assume you're working in your office and your manager all of a sudden asks you do a few takes a shot at high need premise. As a compelled by a sense of honor representative, you would agree to the given demand. Be that as it may, consider the possibility that you take it adversely.

For example, you refer to a reason of your powerlessness to do the task. What next? You think, you've chafed your manager. Presently you get discouraged on the expectation of getting terminated, and you stay influenced with the strain until the dejection gets the best on you.

In the mean time, nothing occurs as you depressingly thought of. Afterward, you came to realize the task was given over to another representative (because of the affectability of your supervisor) thus, you simply require doing your work of course.

Had you drawn nearer face to face to your supervisor as opposed to being discouraged by the expectation of bothering him more by not taking the necessary steps, you would have spared yourself from the psychological torment of gloom.

The issue with a large portion of the individuals is that they don't ask or approach specifically to an issue, yet need to remain discouraged. "Imagine a scenario in which he doesn't trust me?" Many questionable self-asking-inquiries like this one regularly builds the dimension of melancholy.

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