#everyone please manifest for the anon and for me that i have enough time energy and inspiration to finsh and publish this very soon 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[hl-obsessed]

Hey love when are you uploading even in the darkest of the night please don’t feel pressured in any way

Anon my dear! 🥺💕 I'm so happy someone is still waiting for this fic 🥺😊 I can't give you hard date sadly, but know i'm still working at this fic, and i fight really hard to complete it as soon as it will be possible.

I really want to publish something in February, as it will be year since my last fic... so maybe it will be this one...

Feel free to keep asking about it tho! It the best way to give me kick and motivation to work! 😊💕

Aaaaand! You made my day today with this ask and so here you go, especially for you another snippet! 😊💕

(it's not checked and i'm so sorry if this just feels like more teasing 🙈 I really want it to be finished already too, I swear i'm trying)

✨🍃✨🍃✨

"I don't know what you are afraid of Louis. He's up and awake, and as smitten with you as he used to be. You have new bond and being away from your omega will only do harm. To both of you. You will feel the consequences way later than he will. You didn't really hurt him before, no when he doesn't see it that way. No when he doesn't hold it against you. But you will hurt him leaving him now. You hurting him right now staying as far away from him as you can. That's not the way to go, Lou. You have to forgive yourself. You have to let him back, let him close."

Louis doesn't even meet his eyes. As stubborn as he is.

"Weren't you telling me just last week about how you want future with Harry and only him. What changed?"

Louis hungs his head and fidgets with his fingers. "I don't think i deserve it anymore."

"I hate so much that you think that. And you going to hate what I'm going to tell you, but no matter how bad you fell about what you have done, it not yours to decide that. It's his."

(...)

Harry waits next to the car door. Eyes light up when he sees Louis coming and smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Hi. You ready?"

Louis looks at him, at how happy and carefree he is, like nothing in the world changed. He makes grabby hands for Louis and Louis steps forward on instinct. Harry's hands wrap around his hips, thier foreheads meet.

"Hi, alright?" He ask again.

What Louis can say? That no it's not? That it feels like dying? That it feels like weight of the world is crusing him? That he doesn't think Harry will ever forgive him once he'll go down from his bonding endorphins high? That all this is just begging of the end, and Louis is not sure he's gonna survive it?

He watches him for a while. Curly locks on his forehead, his long long lashes, milky skin. He's overpowering scent, that's makes Louis week in his knees.

It feels like he's losing everything that he ever cared for.

He wants to cry and he wants to run. He wants Harry to forget everything that happened, he wants to forget it himself.

He can't thought, he can't, and that might just kill him soon enough.

He can't say anything of this to Harry, thought. Instead he just ask: "Wanna drive?"

Harry's eyes blink open and he smiles wide, "Thought you won't ask!"

With one last kiss to Louis forehead he takes the offered keys and Louis steps back to let him move. Harry jumps around the car, full of excitement, and Louis is almost sure he hears him squack under his breath.

With one last long look back he sees Zayn still watching them. His eyes too soft and too proud. Louis nods and Zayn noods back. It's gonna be okay, Lou. You'll see.

Louis opens car door and music is already playing from Harry's phone. Omega smiles brightly at him as he starts the car. Louis is just barely settled when Harry's hand appears in his tight, palm up, waiting. He's too weak to refuse him now, or maybe it's his alpha that's getting thought his defences, but so tired and wrapped in Harry's scent he can't refuse him anything right now. He slides his hand into Harry's and closes his eyes.

There are some hard choices in the future waiting for him, some hard conversations. But, for now, only for now, it's what he can do. What he wants.

For now, everything it good.

✨🍃✨🍃✨

[oh-saints]

as a fellow ruben girlie here, i'm so happy for the anon! imagine seeing ruben's ass live 👀 BUT HERE ME OUT BESTIE can you please make something out of her (incoming) experience? pretty please? 🥹

you. did. not?!?! BCS YOU WON'T BELIEVE HOW FAST I MADE THIS i really need to stick with closing the request box bcs i've been getting so many 😭

signs

you hold up a sign that caught rúben’s attention… and he takes it in his liberty as a sign from the universe.

rúben dias x you

word count: 1.2k (short one because this is sort of a comeback/warm-up piece lol)

tw: brief mention of alcohol

note: this is inspired on this fellow ruben girlie’s incoming experience but let’s just think of this as manifesting *good things* from front row, yeah? as usual, i happen to write during work so this is ofc not beta-read. feedbacks are also welcome! i'm so torn on whether or not to be writing a follow-up to this tho><

your girlies’ idea of bachelorette party was, for the lack of words, non-traditional.

instead of penis-shaped cake and lipstick scribbles across the face or a heavily-drunken trip to and from the strip club, you were flying to Portugal to catch the male national team on action. per the soon-to-be-bride’s words, it was her last chance to fawn over handsome men she never gets the chance to have before settling with the reality that her fiancé is nowhere near the delicious set of men with stubbles and godly bodies.

in reality, you have to agree with the sentiment. there’s no way an ordinary girl like you, no matter how much you try to dream waking up beside rúben dias, is going to end up with a someone that shares one room with Cristiano Ronaldo in the camp. best choice you can have is probably the goalkeeper from your office’s football club.

so who are you to reject the offer of the front row access to see those muscular thighs up close and personal?

however, what your friends didn’t tell you about was the fact that the embarrassing element was going to still be present. it just wasn’t in the form of the lap dance you were getting from the strippers or the walk-of-shame you had to do when you walk out of a club pretty smashed.

it came in the form of the sign boards the upcoming bride had especially prepared for this very day.

everyone was designated for a sign board with different words respectively. it wasn’t provoking enough but the blurred lines were pretty obvious to imply you and your peer group were sexually frustrated in front of these hot guys. quoting the matron of the event, “there’s nothing wrong in trying to get their attention.”

but you’d like to think that wobbly walks you had to endure from the taxi to your flat on the 3rd floor would be much better than holding up the sign in your hands now. well, anything is better than waving “Marry me, Dias! I got the energy of a stallion!” placard from the side lines, to be honest.

you swore under your breath that if the bride wasn’t your best friend from the university days—who was truly having the time of her life, by the way, with the way she was screaming cancelo’s name like tomorrow’s ending—you’d ditch this event immediately. no matter how much you initially wanted the exquisite view of these stunning guys running and drenched in sweat sexily for 90 minutes.

“here, drink this.”

and you didn’t think twice before downing the bitter liquid from the flask another friend of yours managed to sneak in. how she did it—you didn’t want to know, but you got to admit there was a reason why she was the valedictorian. you needed the instant adrenaline injected to your bloodstream because there was no way in hell you were going to lift up the mortifying stack of words sober.

the alcohol effected the way you took on your surroundings, obviously. albeit you were still not as loose as the others, you came to accept your defeat when you started screaming for rúben, too, in the way the future bride was screaming for cancelo and the valedictorian for felix.

people around you were definitely throwing you and your girls various looks. some were disgusted at the dirty words indicating the bride’s dirtiest fantasies on cancelo—which you admitted went a bit too far sometimes—some were also laughing whenever she casted a curse on the opponents tackling the right winger. some others shook their heads in confusion because why the fuck was there a group of thirsty women in a very manly event?

but you could care less. your friends were having the best moments in their lives and you were not going to be a bitch about it. you were not going to even acknowledge the second-hand embarrassment you were internally having because of your friend’s peculiar antics, which had intensified as they ran out of liquid contents from the shared silver flask belonging to the valedictorian.

the rest of the girls—not you, who’d taken in a considerable amount of alcohol compared to others and could now be considered their sober friend—reached their peak when the whistle blew on the final minutes. the winning atmosphere kind of encouraged those crazy ladies to jump in their seats with their assigned sign boards. you even had to stop another friend of yours from flashing her boobs in public because dealing with police in a foreign country was the last thing in your bucket list.

you pleaded them to come down from their seats, as well. in your defence, they could fall off the seat flat on their faces and a swollen bride and her entourage were definitely not welcomed on the wedding day. but they didn’t give a shit about it and laughed at your face for not soaking up the moment as good as they were.

you turned away from the crazy bunch by facepalming your face, the tip of your thumb was massaging the space between your eyebrows. you thought it was working to ease off the headache, for suddenly the girls went silent in the background.

but you realised it wasn’t the case at all when you heard a familiar voice that you used to listen on several man of the match interview.

“hey, kid,” and you had to look up to make sure your head wasn’t playing tricks on you. “here’s for you.”

rúben was actually standing behind the barricade placed between the field and the audience seats. his hand was stretched to give the shirt he’d worn today to the little kid beside you, who’d been flailing his own sign board of can I have your shirt? throughout the match. the kid jumped at the opportunity, his father behind him thanking the football player for his generosity, and you were blinded by the smile etched on his face as wide as the Mississippi river.

you didn’t bother to blame your humiliating friends for shutting up anymore because you were as stunned as they were.

“and you, my lady,”

you turned your head to spot the person behind you, the one the defender was pointing at, so ready to congratulate whoever the lucky woman was for being able to entice the rúben dias’ attention. but you were met with bunch of men instead, shouting parabens, rúben!

so you twisted your body again, this time towards the towering number 3, with a rather perplexed expression because his line of sight hadn’t moved an inch from where you stood. your nearest friend was one or two feet away from you, and noticing how flustered you were in figuring out his call was meant for you, rúben let out a small laugh but enough to make your entire body trembled with overwhelming warmth.

“yes, you, the one who wears joao cancelo’s name on the back,” and that could be your entire team, for it was the bride’s request to wear her favourite player’s number. “I think you’d suit my last name better, no? your sign says you ask for it anyway.”

every power evaporated from your legs right away.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

unsanitary

.

.

.

i think i have hit a point where my mental state is bad enough that i don't even have the energy to wash off menstruation blood that drenches my underwear lmao. it's been almost 24 hours and all i did was lie down, not caring about the mess down there. this is a new low for me. i thought not bathing for a week was bad enough, so i didn't expect my exhaustion to reach an even lower point.

damn. i have no official diagnoses (because the one time i tried to seek help, i chickened out from admitting my struggles, since a lot of them manifested in hygiene issues. mainstream mental illness acceptance only acknowledges crying in the dark (which isn't exactly accepted either, i'm well aware. i have that as a symptoms myself. i know the acceptance is mostly performative). but people don't even want to those with hygiene issues even performatively, so yeah.), so i honestly doubt myself a lot and think that what i'm experiencing is just normal human experience. but i don't think the average human would stand having menstruation blood for almost a day and would do their best to overcome their disgust, so yeah. then again, i have never been the most sanitary person (i really struggle a lot with hygiene since i was a kid, so maybe i just developed extreme tolerance towards stuff like this), so i'm not surprised that even this isn't enough to kickstart my motivation and energy to shower.

honestly, it's funny. one blessing in this situation is that i feel zero internalized shame. it is what it is, grossness doesn't diminish my worth as a human being. it just is. but i do fear judgment from others, so i always keep this part of my self secret, even to mental health professionals. and sometimes i also think, if hygiene issue was such a normal part of my life, does it even count as a proof that i'm struggling? as in, if a math genius suddenly struggles with it, there's probably something wrong with them. however, if they've always been bad at math, then them not being able to answer a math question probably doesn't indicate anything serious... maybe? something like this, but with me and hygiene issues.

i don't know what i even want about this ask. i just wanted to let it out, i guess? i have a lot of stuff that i desperately want to let out and vent about, but this one is one of the things i genuinely can't see anyone receiving well without judging me, so i might as well let it out anonymously

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear about what you've been going through.

It can definitely be hard to admit your struggles, especially when there's a worry someone may find it shameful or gross, even though you have nothing to feel ashamed about. What you're experiencing is real and valid.

Please know you're not alone. Hygiene has also been a big issue for me due to depression, and I agree that this subject should be alongside societal discussions about depression.

I think it's good that you don't feel any internalized shame about this, because you don't have to, nor would it be productive. You're right that this doesn't diminish your worth as a human being. That being said, your fears of judgment are valid and common. When I took Intro to Counseling last semester, the professor asked by a show of hands how many people were afraid of being judged, and everyone raised their hands. What might be helpful to ask yourself is, what is it about being judged that you might be afraid of? Because someone judging you for this doesn't mean they're necessarily right to do so, or that you should feel ashamed about what you're going through. You may find helpful this article on REBT's concept of irrational ideas, particularly the bullet points for the first one.

I hope things have gotten better since you wrote in. Feel free to let us know how things have been going.

If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[watermelonlipstick]

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment. 

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone. 

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

           Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

           “You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

           “Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

           You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

           “Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

           “Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

           Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

           “If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

           “Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

           Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

           His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

           The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

           “Dean, look at me.”

           He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

           “Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

           He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

           “I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

           “It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

           By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

           “And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

           “I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

           You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

           You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

           It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

           You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

           “Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

           Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

           The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

           “It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

           But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

           Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

           It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

           “We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

           “I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

           He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

           “What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

           “She’s going to wake up.”

           And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

           By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

           After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

           At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

           “It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

           “She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

           “DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

           Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

           “Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

           Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

           “What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

           “Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

           “I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

           Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

           He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

           As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

           When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

           He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

           “I don’t want to hurt—”

           “I’ll be fine. Please?”

           Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

           Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

           “Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

           “I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

           You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

           “You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

           “Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

           Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

           The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

           “Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

           “Sorry for scaring you.”

           “I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

           There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

           Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

           “You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

           The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

           “Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

           Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

-

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[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @darnitdraco​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @fire-is-catching-always

[dourpeep]

my theories were correct sprout is def the type to impulse buy candles soft hehe

but anyways- hello!! long time no see!!

I’ve been

In my silly little bed

avoiding my silly little tasks

But yeah school is a drag and my procrastination is very high indeed

I want to draw spooky things (been meaning to draw a spooky pfp for my art account and wow suddenly we’re five days into october) but i have several assignments on my back and when i seem to DO have free time all my inspo and energy is gone and i end up playing genshin instead-

SPEAKING OF i did the calculations and once i reach 29,760 primos i’ll have my guaranteed xiao AND a guaranteed banner 5* hehe- scaramouche pls mhy, I’m at around 20,600 primos ish…

Other genshin stuff, finally got the courage to turn on inazuma commissions, am two recipes away from mastering all cooking, and on the grind to level up the sakura tree :DDD world quests are kind of a drag for me but inazuma’s are decently good! yes teared up just a tad in the sacred sakura cleansing-

Also been jumped back into working on my genshin oc/semi-self insert, the vision manifestation info from the stream helped quite a lot since I set my up to make them a full kit with percentages and everything haha….totally didn’t have to remake her skill, burst, talents- AHEM-

Also designing them is pretty fun! I’ve been analyzing genshin designs (truth be told there is close to no symmetry to be seen) and how they translate into in game movement. However i’m completely stuck on her hair- (everyone got bangs bro they’re just superior)

I know this sounds like i’m researching as if my character is actually going to be in the game, but it’s fun and gets the brain gears goin! Enough brain rot for now hehe don’t wanna fill up the ask-

Alas, thank you for asking! Sorry for the info dump- I’ll be peepin here and there, and keepin you busy with asks!

-🃏

OIFHEIH my anons having theories on me man that's wack--I wholeheartedly support this please continue nodnod

I have also been

in my silly little bed

avoiding my silly little tasks ehehe who needs to do tasks when you can nap

But like...listen. I keep forgetting it's already October it feels wr o ng. Feels weird. But also oddly nice because time's passing by quick. But also not nice for that very same reason. Regardless, time is passing and it feels like it should still be August or something

AH GUARANTEED XIAO IS VERY GOOD MUAH MUAH LOVE XIAO BIG LOVE FOR XIAO

He's my MVP so I'll yell from the rooftops about how good he is as a unit

Scaramouche...when he does decide to have a banner, I'll roll for him. I don't know if I'd use him (if he's a catalyst) though--eh! We'll see. I'm also eyeing Itto! I love the little interactions he's had w/ Kujou Sara ehehehe

Oh--ohhh man I really like the world quests and stuff--they feel like you're more involved w/ the place if that makes sense??? And the Sacred Sakura one??? My he a r t OTL (': that one had me blubbering..ueueue

AHH YES THAT SOUNDS LIKE SO MUCH FUN!! AND MAKING YOUR OC TRANSLATE AS IF THEY'RE GOING TO BE IN THE GAME OOOO

big brainnnn big braiiiiiinnnnnnn

Gotta say, the asymmetry is great. Psychologically, it keeps the brain occupied with visual elements so that it doesn't get bored, thus translating to players not being easily bored with seeing the characters because of that nodnod

tasty

Ah! And ofc!!!! It's always fun to have nice casual chats like this :DDD

I have a lot to say and I'm lonely

[in-tua-deep]

Hi, I'm the anon who asked for the fluffiest most heartwarming headcanons and they really cheered me up thank you so much! ❤️

asdfghASFGHJ i can give some more random headcanons if you’d like >:3c

we’re gonna go with a theme of food since i went grocery shopping today

After a while in the apocalypse, some things started to grow back. Plants are tough, and a fantastic way to supplement a diet of insects if you know which ones are edible

that’s a long way to say that the siblings witness Five just stuff an Entire Flower into his mouth and he also randomly will stoop while walking and just grab some clover or something and stuff it in his pockets

“And y’all say I’m weird.” Klaus says while they watch Five absently pick and eat an entire patch of dandelions on their Forced Family Bonding Picnic

Five isn’t the only one with food issues - Klaus and Ben also come with food issues and surprisingly Luther also has food insecurity thanks to his time on the moon (everyone noticed that nice note which asked his dad to please remember to send more food right)

Klaus lived with homelessness and Ben hasn’t eaten actual food since he died regardless of the fact that Klaus always sets a place for him or saves him a cup of coffee or tea to include him, and the day that Klaus manages to make Ben manifest enough to actually eat and drink is going to be a Whole Barrel Full of Emotions

honestly what i’m saying is that there is some really wholesome mealtime shenanigans where everyone takes turns providing dinner or lunch and everyone has to attend because it’s family time and there is. varying level of success.

Luther’s food is a little basic but edible enough once they all grab some seasoning. He doesn’t do anything fancy with it, but he can put together a fairly solid meal - and if he actually genuinely studied for this and watched a bunch of youtube channels on cooking well he’s allowed to do whatever he wants on his free time thank you very much

Diego is. Well. He’s been living on his own for a while he’s technically capable of putting a meal together. And if everyone is served scrambled eggs on toast then hey it’s breakfast for dinner shut up that’s a real thing screw you all. (He might have forgotten it was his turn until someone casually mentioned it and he had to make do with whatever was in the kitchen oops)

Allison looks competent in her life but the first time it’s her turn to do dinner they end up having to order pizzas because Allison gets distracted and everything burns. There is some extreme heist shenanigans scrubbing everything down and busting out the air fresheners before Five gets back and Five scowls when he finds out but is actually endeared though he’d never admit it

Everyone expects Klaus’s dinner to be a fucking disaster and it was but that disaster is not what the family was fed so it all turns out okay in the end. Mainly because they went shopping earlier and ended up with a bunch of freezer food and so the family is served a wonderful mean of turkey dinosaur shaped nuggets with sides of kraft mac n’ cheese and microwaveable steamed broccoli

look Klaus is easily distracted and inclined to experiment to the point of inedibility which is not a fantastic combination for family dinner night. the only reason it goes decently is because Ben exists to act as Klaus’s one brain cell and Ben’s intervention depends entirely on how much his siblings have pissed him off this week so.

Five probably just fucking. Proudly dumps a bunch of cans of food on the table and considers his job in ‘providing’ for his family done. When question he defensively says “they aren’t even out of date yet!” and everyone is left squinting at these metal tubes containing their dinner

Next meal though, after much explanation on what they mean by family dinner nights, is probably some kind of stew?? probably a really bizarre and weird veggie stew because you can just kind of toss whatever in a stew pot and go with it which is probably one of the only real things he knows how to make. He may or may not build a fire in the courtyard to cook it since he isn’t sure how to do it making an oven and stove but like. baby steps y’all baby steps.

Ben gets to opt out of being in the roster for family dinner nights due to. his dead-ness. plus the fact that Klaus isn’t reliable in keeping him corporeal yet, but he does make some bomb ass desserts on klaus’s dinner nights when klaus has the energy to manifest him (as long as ben bugs klaus to remember to get whatever it is out when it’s ready)

Vanya makes so many casseroles y’all. When she was on her own she looked up stuff she could make that could be made in one dish and kind of went from there. Did she watch too many shows as a kid where a kindly neighbor brought over some casserole? probably. but her food is actually both edible, homemade, and freeze-able which puts her a leg up on pretty much all of her siblings tbh

the last day of the week, bc ben doesn’t cook, goes to Grace and everyone eagerly awaits those days because let’s be real Grace’s food is the best food and yeah, they might have come up with this thing to give her a break in the first place but damn if she isn’t the real expert and at one point or another they all end up seeking out her advice which she is always pleased by

Five might mainline coffee but surprise! He’s actually not alone in that. Vanya has long long hours of orchestra practice and needs a kick to stay awake, and Allison is completely unashamed with her starbucks obsession. Klaus is always eager to accompany Allison and gets the biggest most sugary drinks possible (as long as she’s paying)

Vanya does try to switch and keep to teas though. Especially after the whole apocalypse debacle. Look her powers are linked to her emotions and she’s going to drink whole gallons of calming whatever tea if it means she isn’t going to punt her idiot brothers through a few walls and go full on Carrie (even if they totally deserve it). She does have some regrets about the frequent bathroom breaks though

Luther is the sibling who tries the teas with Vanya. It’s quiet, they don’t really have to talk to each other, and it’s supposed to be calming so it’s their little bonding thing since god they both need it a lot tbh

Diego thinks coffee pollutes his system and probably keeps a whole bunch of sports drinks. and SMOOTHIES or like those dumb blended drinks? everyone loses respect for him the day they witness him voluntarily drink something with not one but multiple raw eggs in it

even Diego “my body is a temple” Hargreeves balks at Allison’s health smoothies which havekale in them. Allison insists they don’t taste that bad but everyone sees her grimacing when she thinks they aren’t looking. The only one that dares drink Allison’s smoothies is Five and everyone is convinced his taste buds died with the rest of the world in the apocalypse

Allison and Diego team up at least once to try and get the rest of the siblings to go on a health kick. Luther reluctantly joins their side because of the power of Allison and is regarded as a traitor by the rest. Vanya was almost persuaded until Allison said they were having spaghetti and brought out spaghetti squash. 

Klaus is ardently against this health kick because he wants waffles for breakfast, mainly. Five is only against it out of spite because they tried to throw away his marshmallows for his sandwiches

Klaus gets really hungry after using his powers to manifest Ben. His power is usually passive but when he’s actively using it, he’s burning calories. This probably leads to at least one collapse before Five elbows his way in to coach Klaus on How Not To Pass Out and to keep snacks on his person

Five’s power is similar in that jumps burn calories for him, which is why he almost never jumped in the apocalypse unless his life was in danger. The peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches were created to give himself some much needed calories and energy. He fainted a lot as a kid and knows how to handle this kind of bullshitbut Klaus is kind of garbage at taking care of himself so i mean. it’s a big old learning curve going on and tbh both Klaus AND Five don’t eat enough they’re both too skinny smh

Everyone takes turns going grocery shopping except for Five and Klaus. Five because he’s not driving to the store alone because he might get arrested (plus his grasp of paying for things is. very loose). 

Klaus because of the Incident that Shall Not Be Mentioned involving a local grocery chain store, an entire aisle of baby food, just a little bit of public nudity, and a wet floor sign. That, and Klaus always came back with the most ridiculous things possible anyway so

Klaus tries to wheedle everyone into letting him go because Ben is with him, guys! But no one falls for this. Ben is petty and will take Klaus’s side or egg him on almost as much as he acts as Klaus’s sole brain cell, and Klaus also has a history of ignoring Ben even when he is acting like that one brain cell

Klaus does occasionally tag along with the others. Mainly Diego, because Diego has a not-so-secret Klaus-shaped soft spot. Klaus usually demands to ride in the trolley and knocks things off shelves like a small toddler or particularly mischievous cat

Everyone in the house teams up to make sure Klaus eats at least one (1) fruit or vegetable at least every other day

okay that’s all i got for now i have to take a shower but enjoy ;3c

[the-arcana-randomness]

Inspiration lyric: "I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time"

Please play the song while reading for full angst mode.

SHORT ARCANA STORY ~ requested by a beautiful anon

Saturn

It’s been a few weeks since Asra set off to look for things that could help cure the plague. Through his travels he saw the real manifestations of the crisis. There were people suffering and dying everywhere. He thought the situation was bad in Vesuvia, but the outside cities were far worse off. Upon arriving in Nopal, instead of happy-go-lucky people and the smell of sweet dates that usually greeted him, he stumbled upon a quiet, gloomy square that was occupied only by the mild smell of rotting flesh and death. His heart broke a little. He walked up to the well in the middle of the square to refresh himself a little from the long trip and the shocking findings, but it was contaminated. The water was crimson red. He sighed. Disgust, sadness and anger were all mixing and making it hard to manifest any kind of reaction. In that moment he saw the shadow of a bird circling above him and short after heard the screech of an owl. It was Chandra. As she flew down onto his shoulder and greeted him by nipping at his ear, Asra saw she had a message attached to her leg.

“Did Nadia send this?” – He asked in confusion. Chandra chirped at him softly, so he undid the paper from her leg and read the message.

“My dearest Asra,

I’m sorry. I hate that you have to find out this way, but keeping it a secret is not an option I feel comfortable with. The sadness that overcame Vesuvia keeps spreading.

Upon the request of your apprentice, we did not inform you earlier. Unfortunately, the sadness spread a lot further and a lot quicker than we expected. They got sick… They never wanted to worry you. Asra… I am sorry.

With great grief and tears in my eyes I tell you that your apprentice has left us. They’re gone.

Doctor Julian tried his best to postpone the inevitable, but Death is more powerful than us.

Their dying wish was for us to tell you their last words, which were – Tell Asra to smile more.

We send you our love and condolences,

Countess Nadia.”

Everything went mute. Tears started streaming down Asra’s face, one right after the other. His hands were shaking, head spinning, heart… aching. Without thinking, he ran. Nothing mattered in this moment except getting back to Vesuvia, to see them one last time. Asra got onto his beast, tears never stopping. Somehow he mustered up the strength to tell the beast to take him home, as quick as possible. And they ran, and ran… and ran.

Vesuvia greeted them more lifeless than ever. Asra knew where the victims of the plague were taken, so he didn’t waste any time and he ran to the Lazaret right away. But… It was too late. There were no bodies. Just ashes upon ashes. He broke out into tears once again. The pain was unbearable. He felt like his heart was going to break, so he grabbed at it with his hands, in an unrealistic attempt to try and keep it together, in one piece. He felt his magic compass in his pocket and took it out in a hurry. Bringing it up to his lips, he cried.

“Please, please… take me to them…”

The needle started spinning and it pointed in one direction. Soon enough Asra managed to drag himself there and in front of him was just a pile of fresh, still warm ashes. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and a sorrowful scream escaped him.

“Why did it have to be you? Why… You were so happy, so full of life. You were strong, much stronger than me… than all of us. You were the one who was always everyone’s rock. I thought… there was no way. It can’t get to you; you’re way too strong, way too FUCKING STRONG AND SPECIAL!”

For a moment he just sat there and cried.

“I’m sorry… I never should have left you. This is all my fault. I should have known. I-I-I remember… the day… the d-day I last saw you… The day I betrayed you, I left you all alone. You were smiling… You were so happy… So full of energy… Radiating love… We were talking about the plague. What it was doing to the city, the people. I said I was horrified. And I am, I’m so scared. I’m so fucking scared… But you… You smiled. You took my hand, you looked me in the eye and said something I will never forget. You told me to look at the stars and said that people who die never leave us completely. They look after us from above. You said light carries on endlessly, even after death. Even then… at that moment, you knew. I see that now. You used some of your last breaths to explain to me how rare and beautiful it is to even exist. Now, I know what you meant by that. It wasn’t for the people who passed, but for yourself… I remember asking you to say it again and trying to engrave it into my mind, because those words… they gave me courage. You gave me courage, hope. I thought it was me who was saying goodbye… when indeed it was you… I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time.”

[emeraldtawny]

Mitsuhide x MC: Prize or Punishment

Another anon with another Mitsuhide request:

Hi. I saw that your requests were open. May I request some Ikesen Mitsuhide fluff with a good amount of spice? Everything else is up to you. Thank you.

I guess I write him well if I get requests for him more often than other characters ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ have some good floof and spoice for your day. Hope you enjoy~ ;3

The soft breeze caressing your cheek. The faint smell of dew-kissed flowers still in the air even in the early afternoon. You’re blissfully unaware of the spring in your step as you walk through the Azuchi Castle corridors. A smile plastered on your face, you recount your eventful morning: how you got your two sewing commissions delivered on time and the looks of delight as they received them, how you were blessed with cuddles with Shogetsu - with Masamune laughing the entire time. And that’s not to mention the fact of how lovely a day it is, the sun seeming to manifest your positivity into the sun’s beaming rays of light.

Humming a simple tune to the beat of your spritely steps, you’re near on skipping through the halls. And your expression somehow brightens as you cross paths with the man who is never too far from your thoughts and daydreams.

He appears unaware of your presence as he emerges from the council room, but you’ve learned to know better. Sure enough, his strikingly resplendent golden eyes meet your own and he watches as you prance up to him, yourself fairly certain how he is unknowing of the softness his gaze holds.

“Good afternoon, princess. And what is that unfairly beautiful smile for?”

“What, this one?” You make an overemphasised grin, flashing your teeth and barely holding back a giggle. Mitsuhide watches in silent delight, “It’s just been a really good day today. And it’s even better now that I’ve seen you.”

His baritone chuckle radiates into the air, the sound tickling your insides as if it was the first time you heard his sonorous expression of joy, “Is that so? I’m honoured.”

You watch as his eyes flick to scan the door beside him, the subtle discussions of the other warlords heard through the thin walls.

“Is the council still going?”

“Yes. I was only able to leave due to my prior commitments.”

You quirk your eyebrow at his words, “If you have other things you should be doing, then why did you stop to talk to me?”

You know full well of Mitsuhide’s way of working: keeping his loved ones as isolated as possible to minimise the danger. Unfortunately, that way of working always puts intense pressure on him and no matter how much he says he handles it, you can tell immediately when he’s at his worst - his fingers clawing through his hair as if it’ll somehow grant him more time, the dark circles under his eyes making his usually ethereally pale skin appear ghostly and frail. Those were difficult times, ones that you have tried your best to help him through. In reality, you have no idea how much you have saved him and how much he cherishes you for it.

His razor-thin smile widens, lips tilting into a sultry smirk. Your breath catches, recognising that alluring smile - his trap laid for his wonderful, yielding prey. He saunters closer to you as he would any other time, but you can feel the energy surrounding him and how it flares with ulterior motives. Instinctively taking a step back, he naturally follows and it dawns on you how quickly and how effortlessly he has you in the palm of his hand. That same palm caging you in as your back hits the wall, his domineering presence looming over you taking in your expression of shock and excitement with mirth.

“Because you happen to be my said prior commitment. I wished to see you and decided I didn’t want to wait until after council to do so.”

“Oh--”

The sweet blush that develops on your cheeks has Mitsuhide chuckling again. He leans down so his face is level with yours, your noses barely touching as his amused, spark-filled eyes meld with your own.

“I’m glad I caught you when I did. You shouldn’t be showing such a dazzling, lovely smile to everyone. Some people might get the wrong idea.”

Each word is drawn out specifically to tune the shivers they play from your body. His rogue hand settles against your outer thigh, sliding teasingly up your leg. Heat erupts despite the layers of kimono between your bare skin and his, the subtle patterns his fingers draw to life holding your attention before his lips move closer to your ear, goosebumps prickling on your skin at his proximity.

“A-about what?” You manage to wring the words from your throat. You sharply inhale as you feel his lips move against the shell of your ear, entranced by how he takes the time to enunciate each syllable so you can fully experience the spine-tingling sensation.

“About thinking they can claim you when you’re already mine.” He huffs a short laugh, his nose exhaling air against your ear, making you gasp in anticipation, “I suppose I’ll just have to make my mark so everyone knows that the princess of Azuchi mingles with a shadowy snake.”

Your brows pinch at his choice of words. You place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. He relents easily, letting himself be distanced so you can meet his gaze, your eyes shining with resolve.

“You’re not a snake. You’re a wonderful person, so please don’t belittle yourself like that, okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he has heard this, nor will it be the last, yet his heart is filled with affection by your sweetly naive, yet utterly pure words. He smiles, eyes narrowing with love, and moves his hand to cup your cheek. He moves back in close, your eyelids flickering shut as he dusts sweet kisses over each one. The smile blooming across your face is more radiant and all-encompassing than the sun, Mitsuhide thinks to himself.

“You’re too good to me, dear ___.” Your smile widens at the passionate lilt in his voice, “Now then, as a prize, what would you like me to do to you?”

You bite your lip, eyes remaining closed yet feeling his observant gaze on you. Before you can voice an answer, the short, fierce nip of pain on your earlobe jolts you from your reverie, a small gasp escaping into the air.

“Mitsuhide!” You shout-whisper, grabbing his shoulders in a vain attempt to push him back, “We’re in public, and Nobunaga and the others are right next door!”

“I’m aware, so I suggest you come up with a prize quickly, or else.”

The dangerous implications in those last two words thrill you more than you’d ever admit. Luckily, you don’t have to as Mitsuhide can read you eloquently from the look of desire overtaking you.

“Or else, what?”

He chuckles again, the sound dark yet twisted with sweetness, the underlying message in that sound undeniable to you. He cranes his neck, like a snake charmed by its master, to press a fleeting kiss to your jawline.

“Or else it becomes a punishment instead. And I promise you, it’ll be a long, drawn-out punishment.”

His emphasis on “drawn-out” has you quivering, hands gripping his kimono tightly in hopes of keeping you stable. You let out a sensual sigh as his tongue flicks out to follow the line of your jaw up to your ear.

“Mitsuhide--”

The way you say his name leaves little to the imagination of what you want. With a satisfied exhale, he swiftly moves to sweep one arm under your shaky legs and lift you into the air. You blink in surprise, arms automatically moving to wrap around his neck on impulse. Mitsuhide smiles at you, an almost imperceptible blush donning his cheeks, a rare sight for the emotionally conservative kitsune.

“I’ve teased both of us enough, I think. Let’s continue this someplace where I can be rewarded for my labours, shall we?”

A barely repressed “Mm” of pleasure is all the answer he needs from you. He supports your back as he carries you through the halls like the princess you are, heading towards your room for Mitsuhide’s “prior commitment”.

[kikuism]

How do you deal with pressure and stress? (academic, creative, emotional, personal etc.)

hooooooooooboy stress, old buddy, old pal

i’ll answer this in parts!

academic: weird thing is? i purposely let myself get stressed for academia because it’s the only thing that will finally push my lazy ass to get to work. it’s the stress of a coming deadline that makes the gears in my brain shift in ways that they just can’t if i tell myself to work early. just doesn’t happen. i’m at my most productive academically when i am under pressure. it isn’t healthy, but it’s what works for me. when i’m stumped–can’t find a resource, need inspiration for that paper–the internet is a wonderful place to kickstart my brain.

for me, academic stress manifests in much more icky ways – it’s the intense jealousy and competition and ridiculous expectations and standards i place on myself to do better than everyone else. this is the stress that affects me most in university. i have this unhealthy thing i do where i measure my self-worth in terms of my grades, so …… if i do well, i’m elated, i’m a good person. i do bad (truthfully, not bad – if i dip below my average) ….. and, wow, i’m a failure, what’s the point of any of university anyway, etc etc

what i do here is ……. calm the fuck down, first of all. there are much bigger things than university and gpas and grades in life. it isn’t life or death. i talk to myself slowly and make myself see the bigger picture, instead of being trapped in the present.

what helps? the fact that i’m not alone. it’s not only me who’s suffering. what about the rest of the student body? no one has it clean and polished up to the nines! there’s someone out there just like you pulling out their hair in frustration. sometimes, it’s just this fact that is enough to shake myself off. the other thing ….. resources! talk to your profs/teachers about what’s bothering you. go to the writing workshops. you’re paying for this stuff, after all. university wants to help you succeed, no matter how hypocritical that may sound.

the last thing? and the thing that sticks with me the most? as long as you do your best, that’s all that matters. so even if i’m in the worst mood, i do what i can, and tell myself it’s enough. that’s enough to calm me if i’m feeling particularly stressed, because i know i won’t feel shitty afterwards. if i’ve done by best, i can’t be mad at myself afterwards, really. 

emotional/personal: i hate this, this is the baddest bitch. for me, this manifests in anxiety/panic attacks. palpitations and sweaty palms. breathlessness. this awful overwhelming feeling, like a tidal wave surging over you. ready to be engulfed at any time. and so many things can lead to this kind of stress, and it’s so easy to turn the broadest situation inward, and turn it personal, and take it up all on yourself.

my gut instinct is to try and resolve the situation myself as quickly as possible. of course, this depends on what it is, and sometimes, obviously, this simply cannot be the case.

so what i do here is pray. it really grounds me, and it really works. putting my trust in someone higher than me is so calming for me. all my troubles melt away when i pray :’)

creative: ah :)

how many times have i just had my doc open, and like i have absolutely nothing to contribute to it??? let’s not even count

it’s awful, it really is. can’t flex my creative muscles. creative well is dry. no muse.

but thankfully, this kind of stress is much easier to resolve than the other two! i’m going to answer this in terms of writing, since that is my art. sometimes it’s as simple as writing from another character’s perspective. 

what really works for me though is writing the scene i actually want to write. i’m so used to forcing myself to writing in linear fashion that giving myself this luxury of just cutting to a part i really want to write feels like cheating, but i swear, every time i do this, the words just flow out of me. it’s amazing. 

but obviously, some days that just doesn’t work either! and i find that what really fills my creative well once more, like makes it overflow and fuels my passion to just write after a bad slump: reading! after i read something i really enjoy, i am so fired up to write, it’s insane. i am buzzing and tingling with ideas, and i always always end up being pleased with what i end up churning out. so, read! it will inspire you.

and honestly? sometimes it’s just about finding music you love, letting it wash over you and fill you with inspiration, ideas. i have had SO MANY ideas for scenes and dialogue just by listening to music. 

another really fun hack? write when you’re absolutely delirious. one time i wrote when i was so exhausted that i literally could not even see the screen in front of me, but god, my fingers just had a mind of their own. there was some kind of energy in this part of my brain that was just oozing out all this stuff to write, and when i woke up, i had absolutely no memory of what i’d written, and when i read it over, i was pleasantly surprised. so ……. yeah, sometimes writing when you;re in a wasted state can produce some good shit! you should definitely try this out, i’m not kidding. see how it works for you.

i hope this was somewhat helpful!!

SEND ME ANONS! 💫

[shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl]

P5 edits by me and concept art designs by @phantom witch anon

[Witchsona AU]

Fics so far: [Witchy Awakenings] [Birds of a Feather]

Profiles under the cut: (now with quotes and added chats)

-----

Ursula Callistis

Codename: Crane (used to be Chariot)

Arcana: Hanged

Mask: Red bird-shaped mask with pointed beak

Outfit: Simple white witch outfit with bird motif and red accents

Persona: Hestia, Greek goddess of the hearth, architecture, and the right ordering of domesticity, the family, the home, and the state

Skillset: Strong bless skills, weak to curse skills

Weapons: Eskrima sticks and a crossbow

All-Out Attack Card: "Shoot for the stars!" written with the Fountain of Polaris in the background and she says, "I can shine at least this much!"

Awakening Scene:

Ursula: Never again… Never again will I let you touch her! I’ve already lost enough... Even if it costs me my life, I won’t let you take her away!

Hestia: Have you found your resolve again?

Ursula: This voice? It’s… different?

Hestia: Just as you are also different. And yet this feels strangely familiar, does it not?

Ursula: Wait, does this mean... No, this is not the time to question this.

Hestia: You’ve changed. Just like how you changed five years ago. But this change… suits you more. I am thou, thou art I… Not all who wander are lost forever. You who have found your path again, please don’t forget to believe.

Ursula: I know that now. All this time I’ve been doubting myself… when all along I should’ve just believed like I used to. Akko believes in me. And I think, out there somewhere, Croix believes in me too. That’s why I have to wake up and start believing again. After all, a believing heart is my magic. That same magic will help me protect those who are important to me. Lend me your strength, Hestia!

Quotes: "Thank goodness that was easy. But we shouldn't let our guard down."

"Did I level up? I can feel renewed strength within me."

"Oh my, a new skill. All these new spells are tricky but I'll manage."

"There's a treasure chest. I hope that it's not a trap."

"Oh thank goodness, a safe room. Everyone, please take a break and pace yourselves."

"Let's all be mindful when exploring, okay?"

"Don't worry about me, your teacher has more stamina than you think."

"I'm a bit worn but overall fine. If you want to, let's keep going."

"Oh my, it seems that I'm not as fit as I remember. I think I've reached my limit, sorry everyone."

"There's an enemy ahead. Please be careful."

"We've been spotted! Don't let it ambush us!"

"That was quite an unfair fight, don't you think so?"

"They're weak shadows and it's your call if we fight them or not."

"These shadows are stronger than usual so keep that in mind."

"Everyone, brace yourselves. This fight is not something we can afford to lose."

"We won! Good work, everyone! I've always believed in all of you!"

*BATON PASS!* "Crane swooping in!"

*PROTECT* "Watch out, Crow!"

*ENDURE* "No... I will not end here!"

*PERSONA!* "Lend me your strength, Hestia!"

*Follow Up* "Don't hesitate to ask for help."

*Cover Fire* "I've got your back!"

*Harisen Recovery* "Are you alright?"

*low on health* "I've had worse... don't worry."

*healing someone* "Please hang on!"

*getting healed* "Thank you, I needed that."

*giving buffs* "You are stronger than this!"

*physical attacks* "I hope you don't mind me being blunt!"

*attacking* "Take this!"

*attack misses* "I missed? My eyesight can't be that bad, is it?"

*couldn't finish off enemy* "I leave the rest to you!"

*fainting* "No... I failed again? I'm sorry, everyone."

*getting resurrected* "Let's... not do that again. Thank you for getting me back."

*status ailment* "My body has grown weaker than I thought."

Burn: "Oh my, I think I may have a slight fever."

Freeze: "C-C-Cold! I could use some hot cocoa."

Shock: "Ouch! It hurts to move!"

Forget: "Who is Crane? Where's Chariot?"

Charm: "It's rude to judge by appearances so maybe I'll give the shadows a chance."

Rage: "How dare you! I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Despair: "Why did I even come back? Am I even useful the way I am now?"

Hunger: "Hearing my stomach growl so loudly is just embarrassing."

Dizzy: "Huh? My body isn't moving like it should."

Sleep: "Zzz… Finally, a nap... zzz..."

Silence: ...

Mouse: "Squeak!"

Mementos chats: "Crane, huh? I wonder what happened to the Chariot inside of me."

"I still have yet to regain my full strength but I won't let that hold me back."

"Maybe I should bring Alcor with me next time. Oh, but he doesn't have a persona. Should I make him a mask then?"

"To think that I was given another chance to become a Phantom Witch again. I won't waste this chance, I promise."

"It truly is better doing this with company than fighting alone. I'm so happy that there are so many Phantom Witches with us now."

Ursula: What are the odds that our outfits are both bird-themed? This reminds me of the saying, "birds of the same feather flock together". Croix: Except we're both literally different species of birds.

Ursula: No, we are not naming our group "Murder". We're not here to kill people. Croix: I meant "murder" as in a group of crows but I like your definition better.

Croix: Don't you want to find out who would win in a birdfight, a crane or a crow? Ursula: No. Let's not find out. Ever. Can't we just find out which bird has better manners?

Ursula: This is more exhausting than I remember. Croix: It's okay, Crane. There's nothing to be ashamed of with age.

Croix: I thought I'd be fighting with Chariot but Crane isn't half bad. Ursula: Is that genuine praise I hear coming from you, Crow? I wonder what you need from me this time.

Ursula: Did you just... kiss me?! Croix: What? No. It's called a peck.

Ursula: If our power is a manifestation of our rebellious spirit and if that is supposedly unique to each individual, then I wonder why Nova and Chariot share the same weapon. Akko: Hey, does that mean that I'm kind of like Chariot in spirit? Wouldn't that be awesome!

Ursula: I feel proud but also a bit embarrassed when a student of mine does better than me. I hope I'm not lacking as your professor. Diana: You don't need to concern yourself with that. Regardless of your performance, we will always hold respect for you, both as a Phantom Witch and as our professor.

Ursula: It never occured to me to try and talk to shadows. We don't have to fight every battle thanks to you. Lotte: Well I don't really want to fight unless I have to. I'm glad that some shadows think so as well.

Ursula: Some of those poisons are dangerously lethal. I hope that you exercise caution when handling them back at the real world. Sucy: Oh, don't worry. I never use the dangerous ones on Nova.

Ursula: Your persona is so convenient. Not having to walk all the time sure saves us a lot of energy. Constanze: *gives her a thumbs up* Constanze (through Stanbot): No problem!

Ursula: I've heard how you were good with a broom but those talks don't do you justice. Amanda: Well have you heard of how much trouble I stir up?

Ursula: Your party heal saves lives every time. I just hope you don't overwork yourself. Jasminka: It's okay. As long as I eat after, I will heal everyone as much as you need.

-----

Croix Meridies

Codename: Crow

Arcana: Moon

Mask: Black bird-shaped mask with curved beak

Outfit: Same as anime but maybe edgier and more black accents

Persona: Morrigan, Irish mythology of a crow goddess --> Branwen, Welsh goddess of love, means “blessed raven.” (second awakening)

Skillset: Strong nuclear and has curse skills, weak to psychokinesis

Weapons: Gadgets linked to her smartphone and sniper rifle

All-Out Attack Card: "Sorcery Solution System" written on a smartphone interface background and she says, "Your magic is outdated."

Awakening Scene:

Croix: Finally! I’ve been waiting for you for years!

Morrigan: It is you who have kept me waiting, milady. And to call me through such unconventional methods, you are quite the interesting master.

Croix: Yeah well you didn’t exactly come when I called for you all these years, did you?

Morrigan: There are reasons why you could not meet me back then. But I know that these are of little importance to the present matters. Let us form the contract. I am thou, thou art I… You who are not bound by convention and the like, spread your wings even farther!

Croix: With you, I can finally reach places previously inaccessible to me. You shall be my wings to help me soar. I will soar high, higher than Chariot ever did! Take flight, Morrigan!

Quotes: "Too easy. I haven't even stretched my wings yet."

"Power level is rising once again."

"Hm, a new skill? Heh, you learn something new each day."

"Treasure chest up ahead. I could use the extra funds."

"Good, a safe room. I want to analyze my findings so far so go on and take a break."

"Isn't this exciting? There's always something new to discover with every exploration!"

"Don't underestimate the stamina of a veteran."

"You girls walk ahead, I'll be riding my broomba."

"Tch, running out of charge so don't think I can go full power."

"Enemy spotted. Shall we ruffle their feathers?"

"We've been spotted? How could you let your guard down so easily!"

"The power gap is too significant to ignore."

"They're not even worth the magic expense, don't bother."

"The enemy's power level is off the charts, you sure you want to pick a fight with them?"

"We cannot afford to lose here. If we're going to fight then we must absolutely win."

"We won. Don't act all surprised, it's only natural that we'd win."

*BATON PASS!* "Crow flying in!"

*PROTECT* "Dammit! Crane!"

*ENDURE* "I can't die here... I won't die like this!"

*PERSONA!* "Take flight, Morrigan!"

*Follow Up* "Perhaps I could be of assistance."

*Cover Fire* "I'm a good shot, trust me."

*Harisen Recovery* "Get yourself together!"

*low on health* "Tch. Don't look down on me."

*healing someone* "Don't die on us just yet."

*getting healed* "I appreciate the help."

*giving buffs* "Updating stats."

*physical attacks* "This will only hurt... a lot."

*attacking* "Good night."

*attack misses* "What the? The accuracy stats are off!"

*couldn't finish off enemy* "They're more tenacious than I thought!"

*fainting* "Dammit... I was so close. Was my life truly this insignificant?"

*getting resurrected* “Thanks, version 2.0 me will repay you later.”

*status ailment* "To think that my body was this susceptible, urk!"

Burn: "Overheating over here! Someone turn on the AC!"

Freeze: "Brrr, it’s too c-cold! Is the thermostat broken again?"

Shock: "Years of playing with live wire and still my body can't get used to this."

Forget: "Why did I do all of this? What goal could have pushed me to get this far?"

Charm: "If I'm going to fight then I might as well fight for the winning team."

Rage: "You insolent garbage! I'll show you my talons!"

Despair: "Do I even make a difference? Maybe it was all for naught..."

Hunger: "Where's a cup of instant ramen when you need one?"

Dizzy: "The controls are going haywire!"

Sleep: "Zzz… Gotta recharge real quick... zzz..."

Silence: ...

Mouse: "Squeak!!"

Mementos chats: "It's fascinating to theorize just how the cognitive world physically manifests. If we discover enough then the possibility of deliberately creating our own is out there!"

"What? Me? Cheating? You have your weapons and I have my convenient gadgets which do the work for me. All is fair."

"To think that my rebellious spirit would manifest into this outfit. I can't say I dislike it. After all, a crow is much more intelligent than it lets on."

"It took me years before I could return to this world but now that I have, I finally have become a Phantom Witch."

"I always knew that I'd be a Phantom Witch. I just never accounted for the possibility that I wouldn't be working alone... Heh, it's not so bad."

Ursula: So your codename is Crow and your persona looks like a crow... not to mention the fact that your real name sounds like... Croix: You're just jealous because I have a theme.

Ursula: I think Crow is a good fit for you. They're known to be quite the smart animals that have good memory. Croix: You know what else crows are good at? Murder.

Croix: It's such a shame that I can't bring back shadows to the real world. Ursula: It sounds like you already tried. You wouldn't do something that dangerous for the sake of research, right? ...Right? Crow, answer me!

Croix: Instant ramen has never failed me. Even here in the cognitive world, this is the most convenient and most satisfying meal to eat to go. Ursula: Cup noodles again? That's all you ever eat, that can't be healthy. Next time I'll bring better food choices for you.

Croix: Fun's over, kids. You all heard Bird Mom. Ursula: Did you just call me Bird Mom??

Croix: If I fold you a thousand origami cranes then would you grant me a wish? Ursula: You don't have to do that. I'll gladly help you in achieving your wish with all my power.

Croix: You truly are interesting, Nova. The way you wield the Shiny Rod is unlike Chariot's and yet it is just as effective. Who would have thought? Akko: Really? Are you saying that I'm just as strong as Chariot? No way! Chariot's way better than me!

Croix: I've seen how you wield a wand but I've never seen you wield a rapier before. Excellent skills as expected. Diana: I'll accept that praise but I still have much to learn.

Croix: Oh, is that a new upgrade? I see... increased efficiency. It looks like you did a pretty good job as always! Do you mind if I take a closer look? Constanze: *shakes her head* Constanze (through Stanbot): Constructive criticism please!

Croix: Well aren't you quite gifted? Two-type weapon fighting style and a rideable persona for added maneuverability. I can't say that I'm not jealous. Amanda: Heh, you're just overselling it now, teach. But you're not wrong.

Croix: Maybe Crane was onto something. Instant ramen isn't as filling here as it is in the real world, not like I’d admit that to her face. Jasminka: Would you like some of my snacks? I brought extra.

Croix: Amazing. Your innate power to summon spirits in the real world could manifest into the ability to negotiate with shadows over here. Tell me, what is it like? Lotte: Well the shadows are surprisingly more like people, once they start talking that is. Sometimes they talk too much though.

Croix: Correct me if I'm mistaken but are you using different poisons each time? Sucy: Shadows are convenient test subjects. Well I still use Nova sometimes.

[simkjrs]

msa ch3 asks

Anonymous said: I love how msa Izuku comes across as an honest to god cryptid: can't see his face, absolutely the kind of person you'd find at a gas station at 3 am, doesn't want attention, most likely distant cousins with Mothman

msa au is just me fulfilling all of my ‘protagonist is a cryptid’ dreams by making msa izuku as cryptid as possible. favorite character archetype: cryptid 

Anonymous said: so the msa au is my life right now thank u for that & I just read through the update twice so thank you for that x2 and I had to go back and look for Izuku and Kirishima's deal when it came up again and realized oh hey Kirishima agreed not to try and stop Izuku from leaving after 3 minutes and they didn't put a time limit on that i wonder if that'll come up again (& then my brain jumped to Izuku using that Forever. "we had a deal" every time it comes up. he cannot be stopped bc kiri promised)

got it in one!! izuku will abuse the wording of that deal forever if he can. good eye! 

Anonymous said: relatability of msa izuku: trying, doesnt trust feds, inability to sleep, ready to jump out 4th story window at a moments notice, anti-attention-

that’s msa izuku living the cryptid life of his dreams

Anonymous said: So wait you don't have to answer this if it's a spoiler but the collarbone blood tattoo™ is what's making deku's existence confusing to electronics, maybe?

yep, you got it! normally izuku is able to keep his presence from overtly affecting the electronics around him but scripting really starts messing with them. 

Anonymous said: quirkless msa deku anon and can i just say that deku looking eraserhead straight in the eye with lie detector policeman there and him saying "i don't have a quirk" and said policeman not detecting a lie is arguably the best thing i have thought of today.

tsukauchi:  tsukauchi: wh  tsukuachi: how did you even do all of [gestures at ch2 events] that without a quirk?  izuku: it’s a special talent of mine.

Anonymous said: I just read chapter 3 and oh my god oh my god oh my god. Your Izuku is who i aspire to be 24:7. Like everything he says makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time. You did good. <3

haha we are all aspiring to izuku’s levels of impromptu sass. im glad you liked the new chapter! 

Anonymous said: I'm probs rlly late cuz I Love in GMT+1 which means 9 HOURS of difference but I love your writing. Man, dude, being from beyond time and space, you always manage to create the perfect harmony between comedy and suspense that has you giggling while trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe. Just. OH BOI.

this ask is so funny and sweet at the same time. i love you 

@arinrowan said: it's kind of ironic that msa!izuku is exactly the kind of person who would benefit from friendship with/interacting with canon izuku.

msa izuku would benefit from friendship in general but you’re right. he needs the kind of quiet but aggressive support that canon izuku gives 

Anonymous said: Cuz I'm trying to see if I can figure this out, by "told me about Kamino Ward", does that mean that Izuku tipped kirishima that that was where bakugou was? How did he know tho, did baku's spirit go to him and tell him that? Did izuku actually play a part in the rescue???? So many questions

THE ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE... [spoiler alert] is actually ‘yes.’ more soon...

Anonymous said: when they start asking questions abt kamino ward at some point he just gets fed up and says "I JUST DID IT BECAUSE THE GODDAMN CAT WOULDNT LEAVE ME ALONE. I DONT EVEN LIKE BAKUGOU" and the heroes are like :0? what if, we brought bakugou here?

izuku doesn’t even acknowledge that the kamino ward incident happens it’s like theyre just talking to a brick wall 

Anonymous said: Izuku has no control over his own sass anymore and it's glorious?? Says "that'll be 500 yen" and looks surprised at himslef, says "now it's 600 yen" and looks downright mortified, the sass is too much for his smol body, sassmaster izuku ftw

to quote @salvainterra, “i love the fact that izuku never stops even when he himself thinks he should stop.” izuku listens to every nonviolent intrusive thought that crosses his mind and it both incredible and unfortunate. izuku is no longer bound by human limits 

Anonymous said: msa izuku is the living embodiment of the "fuck this shit im out" song

ABSOLUTELY

Anonymous said: tbh when msa chapter 3 said that izuku slept 12 hours at nighteye's office, i was guessing that he would just passive aggressively sleep as much as possible for as long as they had him. won't give them the satisfaction of watching him wander around in his holding cell. hes in the middle of the interrogation and he puts his head down and goes to sleep (btw love your work!)

haha no he was just so exhausted he passed out for 12 hours. he hasn’t had a good nights sleep in weeks, as soon as all [gestures at ch2] this was over he just crashed 

Anonymous said: Wow the new chapter is great!! Stellar as always. I can't help but imagine what's going on from Izuku's point of view with the spirits. Am I the only one who thinks Aizawa's spirit was trying to apologize or something when Izuku talked about not being forced into anything?

there was definitely some spirit stuff happening... i will say that aizawa’s fox spirit is the one who asked/persuaded izuku to tell aizawa what was Up with his quirk 

Anonymous said: tbh i want to see them question izuku with a lie-detector quirk or something. like he'll say something positively ridiculous and everyone's gonna go "wait wtf he's telling the truth??!!?!!?!?!?!?"

hoho... well... buddy im not gonna say anything... 

Anonymous said: Hello! I found your works recently and have an insane amount of time in the past few days going through it all, cause is all beautiful. I want to scream at you about all of them but you only get so many words with this so I'll focus on msa rn and I read chapter 3 of msa last night and since then I've been switching laughing at Izuku's sass, crying cause Izuku has so much angst involved him and I just wanna hug him, and screaming cause whAT WAS THAT CLIFFHANGER?!! Just what. Thanks for ur works-A

THANKS, thats the kind of reaction i aim for when i write something. im super happy you liked it!! <3 

Anonymous said: Technically his quirk is "Being alive" or "Having a functioning body" but saying that would probably end with the same blank stares. As a side note, in the manga (and canon in general) they mentioned quirks are activated by the 'quirk factor energy' or whatever... Do you think that might mean that people who are quirkless just don't naturally have enough quirk energy to activate their latent quirks? it would also make some sense from an evolutionary standpoint, the glowing baby is from the first

generation that had enough of the qfe to actually manifest their quirk and after that generation the lowering number of quirkless could be attributed to those that have a deficit in the production of said energy and they might actually have latent quirks. The pinky toe missing could be the final mutation that causes them to have enough energy for their quirks to work.. The only issue with the theory I see is OFA not awakening latent quirks with it's energy jumpstart...

i think that’s a pretty good theory! it lines up pretty well w/ the worldbuilding in msa. as for afo, :3c

Anonymous said: Hey uh.. I know this is probably 100% non canon in your AU but I was re-reading your MSA fic and I misread something that made me think that Izuku is actually dead and his body is actually being run by his guardian spirit who possessed his body/took his place when he died... *sweats* Its a really weird.. dark idea but I thought it was sorta cool and you might like it..? um.. I'll just let myself out now

god yeah that would be so dark and everything in msa would actually be even worse than it was before 

Anonymous said: When deku explains nighteye's quirk i can only think of that's so raven.

theyre valid questions... 

Anonymous said: I spent my break reading the asks sent to you RE: chapter 3 of msa and I cannot stop fucking laughing over "look eraserhead dead in the eyes and tell him you don't have a quirk" thank GOD I'm supposed to be happy and smiley to everyone

honestly, this is conceptually such a powerful moment that i can’t not put it in the fic now 

Anonymous said: msa izuka finally get set free but kiri has started following him around. States its official hero business but really just wants to see what other "cool shit" izuka will do.

izuku pulls an Official Cryptid Move (tm) and disappears while walking thru a liminal space 

Anonymous said: i love that when aizawa starts asking about deku's quirk he's like, 'screw this i'm answering in riddles now'. this is such a great fic!!

Anonymous said: “It’s a secret,” he says. “A secret that no one knows, that one will suffer, and one-half loathes. Who knows if it’s true or not? The only thing we can confidently say is that it’s one thing that should not be.” Okay, so this is probably one of my favourite little scenes from your fic, partially because it sounds so ominous and badass and makes pretty much no sense. I loved your update, I was so tense the entire time I was reading it, but also giggling hysterically because /Izuku/ just - Izukus

hmm i sure do wonder where izuku got that riddle from... and what it means... 

this riddle is just izuku complaining about everything because as long as he’s in this situation, he might as well make it perfectly clear how unhappy he is about EVERYTHING. when else is he going to have an audience for him complaining about his various maladies 

Anonymous said: I think that a part thats particularly true to izuku's character is when kirishima makes the observation "damn maybe it IS good we arrested him so he can sleep" & izuku goes into a miniature coma for 12 hours bc being arrested presented the perfect opportunity for him to finally be able to sleep

nfdfsljndslfnjdf YEAH, everyone please stop this child it’s for his own good 

Anonymous said: Reading know what i've made by the marks on my hands is really terrifying when not in Izuku's pov because you now know how scary?? it is for some other characters and Izuku looks crazy-- but you know he's not because cheesus???? This kid???????? Honestly I love it so much, thanks for your amazing writing and I want you to know that I enjoy it a LOT.

that’s the goal... showing how weird and strange and bizarre izuku is from everyone else’s point of view... i loved the outside pov bc i got the chance to show how much of a cryptid izuku is, something that izuku himself isn’t even aware of and thus would not make it into his pov

Anonymous said: anon who ((still)) hasn't read bnha here. chapter 3 of msa is amazing. i cannot get over the sheer amount of sass found in such a smol boy. also kirishima is quickly becoming my favorite character because of how supportive and caring he is. kirishima/deku is apparently now something to add to my armada of ships. for that i thank you. also i cannot wait for deku to meet spirit!one for all. it will either be glorious or horrible.

haha im always happy to introduce someone to the wonders of kiri/deku!! its an extremely good friendship... and in my professional opinion everyone should get on it and make it the Hot New Thing. as for ofa, ;3c

Anonymous said: I just thought of this but during Aizawa's interrogation I could totally see his spirit just blatantly looking away from Izuku while Aizawa is asking about his benefactor.

HAHA YUP, i love izuku saying all kinds of stuff about spirits and no one can make any sense of it and meanwhile the spirits are trying to tell him to stop. but izuku cannot and will not be stopped from passive aggressively vaguing about them. he WILL get his complaints in if its the last thing he does 

Anonymous said: “I just fixed your entire Quirk, you cabbage.” I'm sorry but this. This is beautiful. I'M GOING TO GO AROUND CALLING PEOPLE CABBAGE NOW

i was worried it was a bit of an overused classic internet insult but this is reassuring :p 

Anonymous said: every word that comes out of MSA Izuku's mouth is a blessing

but not to our three heroes and their intrepid intern sidekick... 

Anonymous said: Shit after the msa chapter i've got so many questions about Kamino. Did the rescue occur the same with minor variations? Is AfO still down? Did All Might fckin die? Has OfA been passed down yet? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

im uncreative and unoriginal with canon events so we’ll see.... we’ll see. 

Anonymous said: MSA CHAPTER 4! I just found it today and I'm already rereading it. I did not know how much I needed sassy dead inside izuku. I Love this fic so much! That cliff hanger was so good! I'm so exciting to see more of izuku's pov. I love kiri but like I can't get enough of this izuku and his thoughts and reactions to things. This is so well written. The pacing in chapter 2 was so good. It felt like a heist and then keeping the readers guessing with not knowing if he was gonna get away was so good!

thank you so much!! im really glad you enjoyed the story that much <3 <3 sassy izuku is a pleasure to write honestly, can’t wait to see him more in future chapters 

Anonymous said: Ohhhhhh you should update msa! It's so unbelievably good! I love the interaction between kirishima and izuku! Like I'm so excited to learn more about kamino ward and how that's gonna affect izuku going free and keeping his identy safe

:3c 

Anonymous said: In chalter 2 of the msa au, did Kirishima think anything about how Deku said "I swear to every spirit I know"?

he dismissed it as a kind of weird, niche turn of phrase. like oh, guess this guy believes in spirits and junk, but im more worried about literally every other weird thing he’s done today 

Anonymous said: So does MSA!Izuku always mess with attempts to record his presence? I feel like this would be kind of a major problem when it comes to getting himself a school ID or the like. (He's going to school somewhere, so he must have a school ID stashed somewhere). You know, they could potentially use this to track his identity down. They can try contacting schools to see if any had issues with one student needing to have an excessive number of photo retakes.

nope, usually izuku can keep it under control! the blood sigil on his collarbone is what really let him passively affect the electronics.

Anonymous said: Ok so msa!Izuku says "he shouldn't" exists, and when I first read that I was really confused, do you mean he shouldn't exist in the way that he sees things he shouldn't, or that he literally should not exists and Inko has no freaking clue where he came from/he was not a planned child?

yes to the first proposal. other than that, spoilers... 

[nyxelestia]

I'm assuming you're presenting it as personal opinion, but the notion of Sterek fans abandoning the show due to a throwing hissyfits for not getting romantic Sterek? That is not fact. I'm sure some did leave because they felt entitled to a canonically confirmed romance, but the majority? Not so much. Most Sterek fans I've talked to loved TW for the dynamic between Derek and Stiles/Hoechlin and O'Brien, and when the show decided to forgo this dynamic/these (platonic) interactions in favor 1/2

of exploring the boys' simultaneously occurring, rapidly blossoming relationships with Braeden and Malia, respectively, they felt no reason to continue watching. If this is a valid reason for watching, I'm leaving unsaid, but most Stereks would've been happy to see their dynamic and interactions. I know you've said Sterek was non-existent in s1/2, but many people did see it. I, a Sterek, stopped watching after 5a, when I lost all hope in tptb's ability to handle trauma, including Scott's. 2/2

First of all, anon, please don't call yourself "a" Sterek. It's demeaning, and you sound reasonable and like you're a lot better than that. Not to mention it's needlessly tribalizing and intentionally exclusive of multishippers.

Secondly, there are many reasons for why people may or may not want to watch the show. I get that. I've certainly been frustrated with this show, myself, and I've quit shows in the past - though never while still staying in the fandom.

Honestly, my frustration with Sterek fandom as a whole isn't that they stopped watching the show, but that they aren't upfront about it - i.e. including a note or a tag in fic indicating that they've never watched the show or when they stopped watching it. And I resent the implication that the idea that someone is still making Sterek content should be an indicator enough, since that leaves Sterek fans like me out in the Here Be Dragons zone.

Some authors have started to take the effort to tag their fics as "Sterek Fandom" - and you know what? That's awesome! I wish more people would do that! I wish more Sterek fans who still participate in Teen Wolf fandom made a note in their FAQs or bios or whatever that while they still participate in the fandom, they no longer watch the show. That would have saved me (and might still save me) so much time, frustration, and energy.

The other thing is, it also frustrates me that the Sterek dynamic is the only thing some fans watched it for - because throughout the show, it was only ever a tiny part of the show. There were entire episodes that had no real interaction between Stiles and Derek, and there were so many other characters and dynamics that interest me.

And that's what confounds me. It boggles my mind that someone would subject themselves to 9 hours (per season) of a show they don't care about or actively hate for 10-15 minutes of a single character dynamic.

This traces back to my snarkpost and my saltpost about how fandom bends over backwards to prioritize white men over everyone else, and often to the exclusion of everyone else.

I have a lot of issues with Teen Wolf's plot and their handling of complex topics like sexuality, abuse, trauma, etc. But one thing they were really good at is fleshing out characters, and often in a pretty short amount of time. Nuanced personalities combined with an ensemble of amazing actors brought them all such tremendous life...and fandom doesn't see most of it.

I'm only a viewer who enjoys the show, and even I lament how so much time and energy and work gets wasted because so much of the fandom just does not care and refuses to see a lot of amazing character development and much of the storytelling. I can't imagine how the actual writers and actors feel, seeing all their hard work go to waste on a fandom that doesn't care about much more than the two leading white boys from the first season and a character dynamic (re: shipping them) that was never intended and never really existed in the show.

From erasing scenes to support a fanon to claiming most of the show doesn't actually happen, a lot of people poured in a lot of work into this show, only to see it get ignored at best and gotten rid of at worst.

Most of this was, not uncoincidentally, the stories surrounded women and characters of color. Over the last several seasons, it's also become increasingly infantalizing about mental illness and trauma. As a woman and as a person of color, it is tremendously frustrating to see this happen. As someone who really identified with Stiles from the show, it's also incredibly frustrating to see him so systemically warped in fandom into something he's not.

I know it's not a personal attack. That doesn't make it less disheartening when fandom constantly takes the character I identify with the most and constantly twists him into something else, something he's not and has never been close to, before considering him to be of value to a story or to other characters. It's like saying Stiles has no value as who he is - which says something to the people who identify with him. (This isn't limited to Teen Wolf - this is a fandom-wide problem, the treatment of Stiles is just the Teen Wolf-specific manifestation of it.)

[ofcloudsandstars]

I was a witch, I practiced for over 5 years, and honestly I realized it was all fake. Spells don't work, crystals are just rocks, idk I had a major crisis of faith and I feel like I wasted all those years of my life. How do you keep faith doing it?

this is so sad lol :(I mean you are the biggest magical tool, like you are the main instrument stringing along the energy, crystals just help amplify, candles help focus, actually physical tools are just crutches to help focus certain energy but you are the main conductor. Once you feel like it’s all fake it becomes useless because you are essentially the source and it’s dependent on you. 

Depression and anxiety can become challenges when dealing with magic because your energy is dependent on how strong your intent is and how much power you give out and those two things can hinder your power and can make you lose faith cause suddenly you feel like your spells aren’t working and maybe its all fake but really its your negativity talking and your fear and or apathy weakening your energy that you put out. I don’t know you of course cause you are an anon but I deal with these issues myself and sometimes I have low moments because I am trying to battle my own anxiety. 

I mean did you accomplish anything amazing in those 5 years? I’ve honestly have had insane things happen to me and have experienced crazy unbelievable things because of my will power and magic so even when I am in those moments of doubt or even thinking that I am probably some wack ass weak witch I think about the list of things I have accomplished or done for other people that have worked even if it was by eerie coincidence, I still wanted something and it happened. Sometimes I assure myself when I am in these negative mindsets that even if its ‘fake’ and all coincidence- the fact still stands that the coincidences STILL keep happening. So whether its me making up stuff or if it’s truly a power I have that’s out there connecting me with everything it doesn’t matter cause the results remain the same. Its just negativity really can be a massive wet mop to manifesting things to take form (unless if you are cursing).

Also there is this idea of how witches should be like and I have been technically practicing since I was nearing 13 years old but I never called myself a witch until I was in the middle of college at like.. 21? Actually tbh I never called myself a witch OTHER people started calling me a witch lol and I was like ok so if the shoe fits then whatever. But my point saying that everyone goes about their practice their own way cause as I said before you are your own magical instrument and everyone is unique and has their own pace. I mean I like witchy aesthetics cause I was the HP generation influenced by JKRowling’s books so its cute but I never started out that way and the only reason why I like the aesthetics now is for childhood nostalgia reasons. But because what I was doing before, though it worked powerfully, it was not aesthetically or typically witchy, I didn’t think I was qualified to be a witch or label myself so until other people saw me as such and started addressing me by it. That being said you might be pressuring yourself to perform a certain way and you are probably disappointed that you are not getting some type of results you feel like you should be getting because what works for you doesn’t match others expectations of how a witch should perform or what expectations you are trying to meet does not work for you especially if you are going about it in a way that someone else says you should and not by your own means. 

To be honest (and please no shade to like no one here, it’s a personal thing) the majority of spells I see on this site I ignore because its like strongly not the way I do magic and some that get too materialistic or vocal are like a massive waste of time to how I visualize and project my energy or can even be distracting. I also don’t really post my own spells cause they are so abstract and energy based that it might make no fucking sense to the next witch, like I usually post pictures of visual grids that help me focus energy cause people can visually get it, but for the most part my magic makes sense to me and it works for me and that’s what matters. 

 Anyway you don’t need to even touch or look at any of the magical tools most witches use to do magic and you don’t need to do any classical spells or popular spells here because if it doesn’t resonate with you it really will not work. What will help you with finding true spells is something that you make for yourself that will make you feel right after you cast your energy. Don’t worry if what worked for you before is far from the expectations of what people regularly think witches should do or how they should perform. Don’t worry if some spells here don’t work for you. Don’t worry if you don’t resonate with crystals cause fyi they ARE just rocks and yes some do vibrate energy but its on a small scale. And also guess what? A lot of witchcraft goes hand in hand with science or daily crafts so even if what you did made you happy you can do it in a logical way that does not have to necessarily need to slap a magic label on it. Herbal medicines have schools you can attend classes in. Learning aromatherapy and making your own bath mixtures that are good for your skin is a skill. You can practice kitchen magic and learn basic nutrition and see the correlation of how certain foods are natural aphrodisiacs or how they can release dopamine and see how certain herbs and foods have correspondences for love or happiness because of it. (For example I see blueberries as very cerebral and psychic fruits but blueberries really help the brain and give it nutrients and it also helps that it has a deep blueish indigo color like the third eye energy pool so it fits with half logic half spiritual shit). European witches in the old days just knew how to heal people with herbs and that was enough to get the church to want to burn them on the stake cause they were salty they could deliver children without childbirth pain and churches hated women so fucking much they couldn’t deal with that. Maybe one day in the future the things what we are doing could be explained- maybe there will be a science as to how our energy can manipulate things, but for now there are a lot of magics that go hand in hand with science so you don’t have to feel like its all completely made up. I mean in ancient times we thought lightning was caused by the gods and now we know how lightning works. There are many mysteries in the world and the science we know now is not finite knowledge to the universe. 

Lastly, from my own experiences, doubt won’t deter your magic, but apathy will and same with fear like anxieties. If you feel like those last two are your obstacles maybe take some time to do some self reflection and figure out where the root of these sentiments are coming from. Another thing that can really stress some people out is the fear that they don’t want to come off as delusional or something- which, is an anxiety, but honestly just keep your practice to yourself and view it as a religious/spiritual thing and people should respect that. If I live in a country where the majority of people are in a religion that they feel so justified in taking away people’s healthcare and dictate who we should marry then people can take a seat if it upsets them to know someone believes we have energy that can influence our surroundings. But also treat it like a religious/spiritual thing as in don’t talk to it with others unless they are genuinely interested or else its going to be an uncomfortable conversation. 

[smoothjazs]

Setting Intentions: Self-Discipline

I hope each and every one of you had a fruitful New Year’s celebration. This year’s celebration was a little different for me because of the mere fact that I had to work and I didn’t celebrate it with my family. We made it a part of our family tradition that as the ball dropped to the final second, we join hands in prayer and set our personal intentions each of us have for the coming new year.

I didn’t get to do that for the first time.

It set the tone for the rest of this week and it felt as though I have brought all the negative energy that’s been lingering in my heart. It was unsettling. However it did inspire me to get on my yoga mat and just release all the energy I had through my yoga practice. As I started flowing the word Self-Discipline popped up in my head.

I didn’t feel emotionally prepared. I usually like to consider the new year as my birth-day: the coming of a new life. And I don’t know, for some reason January 1st felt very different for me. I didn’t matter how many days late I was going to be, I just felt prompted to set an intention for me to be refocused. I have a few projects that I’m working on, I have a new job that I’m utterly grateful for, and maybe that’s why I feel so focused to start fresh, have plans set up, etc.

But personally, I have not processed this year! And I wanted to walk into 2019 having explored some of these transitions that I have gone through in my life.

Self-Discipline is what carried me through many challenging times in my life this past year; including my constant involvement with my Youth Ministry. I think about the “dry seasons” that I’ve experienced where it seems like no light is in sight. Or I think about showing up to do work that does not yield and immediate return. I think about just 2 years ago where I wanted to lose weight and I dropped 60 pounds. It wasn’t an easy thing to do but it was probably the happiest I’ve ever been.

Honestly, self-discipline is what drives the car when you feel like you have no fuel left to give. So today, I want to emphasize on that today: developing self-discipline and just being able to do the damn thing! Because I know for a fact that we allow so many external things stray us off course. We give away own power--our own control.

Self-discipline to me is about taking that power back. It’s about owning it...even when it doesn’t feel easy. Even when it’s uncomfortable. It’s about being 100% aware and aligned with what you need and to stop compromising that.

When we hear the word Discipline:

It feels negative, it feels harsh. And I don’t think it has to be like that. I want to shift it and spin it around and attach feelings of empowerment to the word Discipline. Self-discipline is not about choosing what you want right now and in the moment. It’s about choosing what you need most. So it’s very crucial to align yourself with what feels long-term, what’s deeply rooted. Don’t fold when resistance first hits because that’s just temporary *more on that in a minute anon reader*

Intention is a state of being; a state of mind. What state of being do you want to embody in 2019? When I walked in to 2018, my intention was to practice stillness. And that didn’t mean practicing yoga every month, to be in a state of prayer/meditation. But to remind myself to slow down. Not even 3 months into the new year, I get hit with Bell’s Palsy. Mid-summer I’m constantly vomiting for a month straight. Even with all the transitions I have gone through in my life.

So let’s step away from these goals and high expectations that you have for yourself. Outside of your identity. Who do you want to be VS what do you want to do? How do you want to show up in the world? That’s the question I think a lot of us are asking ourselves.

What intention do I want to set up for myself? Because how I show up in the world influences every other single thing that you do. Every other goal you have for yourself is going to be influenced by your state of mind and how you intentionally want to show up.

But I guess I first want to say that intentions mean absolutely nothing without self-discipline. We are rarely rewarded for our intentions. We’re rewarded for our actions and for our ability to see something through.

I’ve always talked a lot about how God has constantly worked through other people and manifested in their lives. 2018 was year of things resurfacing and I always made sure that everyone practiced self-care and self-nourishment; to not fall into the same old bad habits. Yet I failed to realized that I have forgotten about myself in the process.

Self-discipline is a series of decisions that come in a form of hard yes’s and hard no’s. It isn’t necessarily something that you’re born with

“It’s our choices that shows us what we truly are. Far more than our abilities.” J.K. Rowling.

And I really believe that. Self-discipline is a choice, not necessarily a scale. In order to make those choices confidently, a few things need to be considered. Whatever you’re trying to do or accomplish, is it in alignment? Is it something you truly want or desire?

Zero things are sustainable if you do not enjoy them on some level. Every single time I do something just for the money, I fail. Every time I try to do something just for recognition, I quit. Every time I try to do something for the social status, I get bored. So my question to you is this: What’s behind all of this? That’s what matters. That’s what’s going to keep you in the game.

PASSION IS ENERGY! So feel the power that comes from focusing on what excites you. It’s unreal! If you can get to that thing, if you can uncover what’s underneath, the decision to move forward is a heck of a lot easier to make! Doing this work of digging deeper also helps us to simplify and maybe lessen the amount of things that we’re trying so hard to be disciplined to do.

One thing I’ve noticed is that Self-discipline gets tough when you’re being pulled in different directions.

1. Use Seasons: If you’re struggling to stick to a particular project or goal because there’s something else screaming for your attention, send it to the next season. In other words, park it for later. That way you’re not completely forgetting about it. But you’re moving it out of your head and out of your mind so that you can stay in one lane rather than swerving between two or three.

2. Saying “no” more often. This past year I have said more confident “no’s” to simplify and more gracious “yes’s” to expand. And let me tell you, there were a lot of more “no’s” than “yes’s.” This is about setting boundaries. Not only protect but to prioritize what matters most. Without boundaries in place it becomes difficult to do this. What sort of boundaries do you need to build? What are the common distractions that you face? Maybe it’s people in your life who ask you to do things for them.

I want you to remember that every time you engage in people-pleasing, you’re trading in your freedom for their comfort.

3. Schedule your days/tasks in advance. Make decisions before hand and never in the moment because it’s in the moment that distractions flood us. I don’t think I could get anything done without planning in advance.

4. Anticipate resistance! Because it will creep in from time to time.

“Even when I feel like what I have will not be enough, I am still free to show up with joy and anticipation for what lies on the other side of courage.” - Morgan Harper Nickles.

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INTENTION PROMPTS:

1. What intention did I set for 2018 and how did it show up this year? If you didn’t set an intention, what goals did you set for yourself? How did they impact your state of mind?

2. What was the best part of this year? What was the most important lesson that you took with you? What is something that you are now imprinting on your heart?

3. What are you releasing and not taking into 2019? How can you grieve it if you need?

4. What intention are you setting for 2019?

5. What support do you need to be your best and how can you make these steps today to create that support?