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alexianne · 6 years ago

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In an article written by Rick Warren, he wrote, “(t)here is a strong belief in our culture that influences every one of us, whether we want to or not: if it feels good, do it. But when you allow yourself to be manipulated by your moods, you are living your life according to your feelings. God wants you to live a different kind of life. He wants you to live a life of faith, not a life of feelings”.

Faith is defined by Merriam-Webster as a strong belief and trust in and loyalty [to God]. Putting our faith in someone entails confidence that the object of our faith is something or someone that is genuine, unshakeable, and unchanging. If that whom we’re putting our faith in has these characteristics, then that someone would serve as an anchor that would keep us grounded no matter what the world convince us to be, and a compass that would give us direction in times of indecisiveness and through worst cases of mood swings (at least, for all the ladies out there).

Feelings, on the other hand, are defined as an emotional state or reaction; a belief, especially a vague or irrational one. The fact that feelings are described as vague and irrational, and are tagged as just a state clearly reflects its instability. Given its definition, this makes feelings something that we cannot really hold on to in times of confusion or loss.

When I first became a Christian, you wouldn’t have to ask me to pray or read the Bible. I was the textbook definition of ‘being on fire’: I was always excited to commune with God like the excitement of one who is about to ride a roller coaster. I was, in hindsight, definitely walking with the Lord with my feelings. But the past weeks has been a repetitious whirlwind for me (if the term 'repetitious whirlwind’ even makes sense to anyone). I have been doing the same things at work over and over, in increasing volume each day. While I successfully accomplish every task I had for the day despite the increase in volume, I happen to neglect some of the most important things that I should be doing, which is to meditate on God’s word. When I started working, I used to be able to read and meditate on the Bible while riding the bus on my way to work. But lately, I am just utilizing the trip by catching up on the sleep that I feel I lack. And while I think that I am spending my time correctly, I know deep down that I am losing a lot more the longer I continue on this kind of set-up. I am losing the chance and the discipline to deepen my relationship with God. It was at this point after I came to this realization that I came across the aforementioned article by Rick Warren. What smacked me right in the gut was this line that says, “if you want to deepen your relationship with God, you have to spend time with Him even when you don’t feel like it. People who have a regular, consistent quiet time with God didn’t get there because every morning they woke up and wanted to spend time with God. They got there because the woke up and spent time reading the Bible and praying even if they were tired or didn’t feel like it.”

Lately, I just read the Bible whenever I feel like I am in the right disposition to read the Bible (a.k.a. I am not feeling sleepy). I did not notice that I have come to the thinking that I have to be in the perfect condition to reach out to God. Lately, I am just praying for myself; I am praying for the daily provision, that He may deliver me from all evil, and that I may feel His presence so that all my thoughts, words, my heart, and all the works of my hands will be guided by Him. And while there is nothing wrong with that, I have only done what is within my comfort zone, and have forgotten the feeling of being blessed whenever I pray for my Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria. I belatedly remembered that in keeping a relationship—any and all relationship—there should be effort coming from both sides, one of the best efforts I could do on my side is to pray for them.

Exerting effort is hard; being consistent and developing discipline is way harder. But that is how we will be able to keep relationships. Relationships are always two-way, and our relationship with God is no different. Once we keep up with our part of the relationship, we will start seeing God, His work in our lives, and all His promises coming to fruition. All we have to do is to keep going. Keep going, no matter what. Keep going, and get back up and keep going once we stumble. And right now, I know I have stumbled. But with the new me, I am choosing to get back up instead of having my shame get the best of me like the old me used to do. I am choosing to continue with my life with God than go back to the life I used to live without God. I am choosing God’s promises over my own comfort zone. And that may take time, or physical limitation may get in the way, or I may forget from time to time, but all I know is that I will keep on pushing even if I don’t feel like it.

I would like to end this post of mine with another couple of lines from the same Rick Warren article: Faith is being persistent. Faith is refusing to give up no matter how tired you are or how many other things you think you should or wish you could be doing.

#re:flect

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libraryofalexianne-jia · 6 years ago

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In an article written by Rick Warren, he wrote, "(t)here is a strong belief in our culture that influences every one of us, whether we want to or not: if it feels good, do it. But when you allow yourself to be manipulated by your moods, you are living your life according to your feelings. God wants you to live a different kind of life. He wants you to live a life of faith, not a life of feelings".

Faith is defined by Merriam-Webster as a strong belief and trust in and loyalty [to God]. Putting our faith in someone entails confidence that the object of our faith is something or someone that is genuine, unshakeable, and unchanging. If that whom we're putting our faith in has these characteristics, then that someone would serve as an anchor that would keep us grounded no matter what the world convince us to be, and a compass that would give us direction in times of indecisiveness and through worst cases of mood swings (at least, for all the ladies out there).

When I first became a Christian, you wouldn't have to ask me to pray or read the Bible. I was the textbook definition of 'being on fire': I was always excited to commune with God like the excitement of one who is about to ride a roller coaster. I was, in hindsight, definitely walking with the Lord with my feelings. But the past weeks has been a repetitious whirlwind for me (if the term 'repetitious whirlwind' even makes sense to anyone). I have been doing the same things at work over and over, in increasing volume each day. While I successfully accomplish every task I had for the day despite the increase in volume, I happen to neglect some of the most important things that I should be doing, which is to meditate on God's word. When I started working, I used to be able to read and meditate on the Bible while riding the bus on my way to work. But lately, I am just utilizing the trip by catching up on the sleep that I feel I lack. And while I think that I am spending my time correctly, I know deep down that I am losing a lot more the longer I continue on this kind of set-up. I am losing the chance and the discipline to deepen my relationship with God. It was at this point after I came to this realization that I came across the aforementioned article by Rick Warren. What smacked me right in the gut was this line that says, "if you want to deepen your relationship with God, you have to spend time with Him even when you don't feel like it. People who have a regular, consistent quiet time with God didn't get there because every morning they woke up and wanted to spend time with God. They got there because the woke up and spent time reading the Bible and praying even if they were tired or didn't feel like it."

Exerting effort is hard; being consistent and developing discipline is way harder. But that is how we will be able to keep relationships. Relationships are always two-way, and our relationship with God is no different. Once we keep up with our part of the relationship, we will start seeing God, His work in our lives, and all His promises coming to fruition. All we have to do is to keep going. Keep going, no matter what. Keep going, and get back up and keep going once we stumble. And right now, I know I have stumbled. But with the new me, I am choosing to get back up instead of having my shame get the best of me like the old me used to do. I am choosing to continue with my life with God than go back to the life I used to live without God. I am choosing God's promises over my own comfort zone. And that may take time, or physical limitation may get in the way, or I may forget from time to time, but all I know is that I will keep on pushing even if I don't feel like it.

#re:flect

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duhhhhimstypidyall-blog · 1 year ago

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Spiraling (Vent/Brain Dump)

TW: mental breakdown, spiraling, ranting, ect.

!PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD HEADSPACE!

The concept of time is really fucked when you are experiencing severe dissociation episodes. My entire life I’ve lacked a general awarness of time and don’t seem to have a reliable internal clock like some others. Everything I experience seems to be in polar extremes. Time either moves so painfully slow that it seems like a day will never end or so fast that it seems like I blink and a week has passed. It is even more complicated when it seems to have both characteristics simultaneously even though from a logical stand point it should not be possible. I’m assuming that is why it is so hard for me to comprehend. When I was a kid, all the super exciting things in life always sped by while undesireable experiences seemed to slow everything down. Now it has nothing to do with the surrounding circumstances. Each day I live makes less and less sense to me. The funny thing is every once and a while I will go a few weeks or maybe even a month without giving this whole ordeal a single thought, but it always creeps back in and its been getting alarmingly worse upon each return. Throw sleep deprivation, an eating disorder, and isolation into the mix and I am left with an ugly cocktail of a spiraling psychotic breakdown. One thing people always have to say to someone in a rough mental health patch is that you will get through this and move past it. Although I am not necesarily disagreeing with this statement, it is not giving me any sort of hope, which I am assuming is supposed to be the outcome of the statement. It does not provide hope because even though I always somehow get out of these episodes, I never remember them once thier over. That also means being in it right now, I don’t have a known way of getting out of it because I don’t remember what I did last time to get out. I am not sure that made much sense but thats besides the point. It is so strange to be in this state. I am here enough to know that I am not here which is ironic because again, that contradicts itself. I would compare it as sort of going on autopilot, I am reluctantly getting out of my desk chair and going to work but I could not tell you any of the conversations that I had or even what events from the shifts were on which particular day of the week. I am just all around delirous and checked the fuck out. I am starting to get frustrated again with feeling stuck in a loop with no progress being made and it feels pointless. I know I have so much more to say but I keep zoning out and staring at what I know are my fingers on the keyboard but they sure do not seem entirely connected to me right now. They just look slightly off, its that feeling you get when you see the pictures of those liminal spaces and factually there is nothing immediatly concerning about the photos but you get this gut feeling that there is something off behind the scenes. I must have punched my car again at some point recently because I have nasty bruises on my hand again. If I am being honest I haven’t slept in 2 days and I cannot remember the last time I ate. I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye that are most likely not even there and hearing shit I can assume is not real either. I just wish I did not have to go through this alone. I am a complete looser and a failure, I am in my early 20′s and have NO friends, I live by myself and am only close with my sister out of the family who is unfortunately 3 hours away from me. We are in contact daily over the phone and on social media due to our shared interests but it is not the same as having someone physically in your presence to bring you back down to earth a little bit. I really need a fucking hug, I am so touch starved that if someone were to genuinely embrace me I just know I would immediately burst into tears and hyperventilate through my violent sobbing. I know I am supposed to deserve to be loved and have friends but its hard to believe that when I have nothing to prove otherwise. If I deserved friendship and love wouldn’t I have it? Some of the nastiest and cruel people in the world are allowed those luxuries so why the fuck am I the one that gets it taken away from me. I don’t have anyone to tell my jokes too. I have nobody to play video games with. I have nobody to share my newest plot ideas with. I just want to share the human experience with at least one other person like the rest of the world gets to. It is not fair. I have not done anything in my life that would constitute a punishment as cruel as this. Recently I have been listening to the song Karma by AJR and I feel like it really captures the way I feel about the whole thing. Especially the line, “the universe works in mysterious ways but I’m starting to think it ain’t working for me”. It confuses me because in an abstract way the human experience is following the rules laid out by the universe and in turn recieving either good or bad things based on your compliance. It just seems like I am being expected to follow an entirely different set of rules and rewards but I have no idea what they are and noone will tell me what they are. I come to the universe asking questions because it is just the way that things are supposed to be and thats just how it works, but for some reason I am met with notions of “well not for you though” with no further explainations. What am I doing this for? I do not belong in this timeline, I feel like I got misplaced on accident and that this is not the lifetime that I am supposed to be navigating but I am trapped here until the end of humanity.

#mental illness #spiraling #mentalbreakdown #vent post #nobodytotalkto

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ocean-anchored · 2 years ago

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Dear future self... March 21, 2023

I’m late I know. I wasn’t feeling it last sunday as I felt like I wasn’t in the best head space and as the week went on I figured I’d just wait till sunday again which ended up being so busy. Where to start. Back to Dillon being the asshole he is. It’s really unfortunate. I can’t remember when it was that we had a call where he raised his voice and told me to go cry a fucking river when I said how disrespectful it was leaving us high and dry March after ALL the things I’ve done for him. Haven’t really talked to him since. He did pay February finally but that whole friendship is over and I may never see or talk to him again so who cares. Sadly not loosing much there. On the friday two weeks ago I was cleaning up contacts in my phone (was clearly bored at work) and came across Mitch. He’s been on my mind for a long time. I just felt really bad about how I ended everything and how I kind of just cut things off cold so I wrote an apology text just to tell him that I didn’t mean to hurt him. In no way, shape or form did I intend it to be as a “let’s try again” type of thing and that (on top of Dillon’s shit) is why I wasn’t in the best headspace. Hanging out escalated to a point that I felt a lot of shame the next day. I’m still trying to deal with that and back off as I don’t have any intention of dating or a relationship. I truly am happy being single and keeping to myself this year and I worry about hurting him again and him taking things the wrong way. I stepped out of my comfort zone again that week and went to a church group where I didn’t know anyone. Divine from church had joined me into this group and they had a gathering that again I had no idea who or what it was about but I showed up and it ended up really great. Met Eryn which was really nice who goes to Redemption as well and it was nice to just be around Christians. The night was around the Navigators and discipleship. Something I’m still so shy about but it was a good experience and I’m proud I went. Last week was pretty good. Finally bought Ed Sheeran tickets, just about cried. Going to see him in September with Dustin in Vancouver and I literally cannot wait. I’ve waited far too long for this and really look forward to this most.

Thursday I went to Nose Hill with Amber and her bf with all our dogs for a walk in the afternoon which was so nice. I really love the flexibility I have and still catch myself feeling like I’m taking things for granted and I’m not doing enough but lunch with Ed cleared that - will get to that. I went for dinner later that day with Kamber another girl I met on Bumble BFF and it’s been nice chatting with her as well. We have so much in common. Sometimes I feel like I talk to much with her and sometimes I feel like I’m always looking for another topic to talk about but our conversation is genuine and it’s refreshing. She’s super sweet and down to earth. Friday I “took the day off” from YCH technically since I don’t work Friday’s with Ed. Went for sushi and that was really great. Just more solidifying that we’re a great team and we’re both happy with how things are going and the work progressing. I know he appreciates me and it was nice to just clear some work things up but also be able to chat about so many other channels and things. I’m really so blessed to be working with him. He said at the end that he hopes that I do work for him for the rest of our lives which really is my goal. It was from this lunch with Ed that my weekend ended up being nonstop with barley a minute to myself. Mitch came over to watch movies friday night which was alright. Got up early and went to Lake Louise and Lake MInewanka with mom Saturday for the whole day. It was a really great day, absolutely beautiful out. Such a perfect day (we always seem to get those when we go out together). Came back in the evening and went to chat with Mel. It was a good, needed talk. We challenged each other with the little fit we had the week before and how I’ve felt like she hasn’t been part or contributed to our relationship but she’s explained how sick she’s been and stressed and we had a good cry and we talked it through. Really healthy. I appreciate that she takes the initiative to chat to sort things out and we’re re-learning communication with each other in a healthy way. Nova was so patient in the car that we went to Currie Barracks after to walk the park where they set up lanterns and lights everywhere, it was nice but getting home at 9:30PM was exhausting. Sunday went to church which was as always, great. Helped mom with her zoom set up and took Nova out when I got home. Steven came over right away and we gamed for a bit and watched the Office. It was good, nice to also spend time with him personally but I do love Amanda. Been building my own relationship with her which has been really great. Anyways that’s a basic catch up. It’s been super super busy and I’m peopled out. I’m going to try to focus this week on chilling and recouping as its Amber’s Birthday on Thursday and I’m taking a couple of us to the Flames game which I’m really excited for. All is well. I’m still super happy all around. This year seems to just keep getting better and I have so many things to look forward to this year.

#personal #weekly update #dear future self #journal update #life update

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maemelany · 4 years ago

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Fixing the Broken (Part 3)

Summary: People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worse.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Warnings: Angst, tiny tiny mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.6 k

Pairing : Chris Evans x Reader

A/N: I hope you like this one. I can’t wait for your reactions about this one. I can only imagine what @fallenoutofrose will have to say about Chris’s behavior in this part 😂

Enjoy and let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list

Love x Mae ❤️

Masterlist

Prologue , Part 1 , Part 2 Part 4

“It is better to hope than despair.”

-Lailah Gifty Akita,

You finally knocked. After standing in front of that door for what felt like an eternity now, you finally knocked. Your legs felt like jelly, and your heart was pounding in your chest. You were feeling more anxious than the day of your wedding, and the irony of the situation made you almost laugh. Almost, but not quite. You were about to when Lisa opened the door.

She was as radiant as ever, a big, warm smile on her face. Honestly, it surprised you. You knew that she knew. Now that Chris was back, there was no way Lisa wouldn’t know what was going on. That man told everything to his mother.

Lisa let you in, and you followed her into the living room. The house felt like a second home to you. Actually, it felt more like home than your place with Chris sometimes. There was always something happening here. When you left your house, you almost came here. But you felt like it was unfair to Chris. Lisa was his mom, and her house was his safe place, not yours.

“Chris told me everything. How are you holding up honey, are you okay?” Lisa asked you

Her kindness broke your last defence. Her genuine, motherly concern about you made you feel guilty that you didn’t come to her sooner. Lisa had always been so kind to you, taking you in as her own daughter from the moment Chris introduced you as his girlfriend. Your lips started to shiver as you were trying your best to hold the tears back.

“Oh, honey… please don’t cry.”

She took you in her arms, and you broke into tears. It may have lasted five minutes or an hour; you weren’t sure. These days you were crying so much it was just the new normal.

Your best friend had been a great support to you, but she had to. She was your best friend. Chris’s mom was supposed to be on his side, defending her son’s best interest. Not yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me things were that bad, Y/N?” Lisa asked you

You looked away. Somehow ashamed that you thought Lisa would reject you.

“I … I don’t know. Chris is your son, and…”

“And you’re my daughter. Y/N, you’re family. We all love you!” Lisa said, taking your hands into hers. “Plus, I bet some even love you more than Chris,” Lisa joked.

You laughed, feeling a little bit more at ease now. “I’m sorry…” you whispered.

“Don’t be. I am sorry we didn’t see anything,” Lisa said

You shook your head. It wasn’t their fault. They weren’t responsible, Chris and you were. It was your marriage, after all.

Lisa asked for your version of the story, and you could tell she was trying to be as partial as possible. You hated that you had to put her in that situation. She cringed when you told her Chris didn’t notice you were gone until he went to Carly’s place.

“That boy…” she said, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, a sad expression on her face.

“It’s not your fault Lisa. Actually, it’s not even Chris’s fault. I can’t force him to stay married to me,” You said

“You think he feels… forced to be with you?”

You shrugged. “I mean… why else would he be as far away from me as he possibly could?”

Lisa watched you closely. You could tell she wanted to say something but was refraining herself.

“You two should talk. Maybe you could solve this…” Lisa said

“I don’t think us talking would do any good. We tried that yesterday; you should have seen how shi… messy it was”

Lisa tried to hide her smile when you stopped yourself from swearing. “If talking to each other doesn’t work, maybe you should try talking to someone else…” Lisa suggested

You frowned. You didn’t see how Chris and you talking to Lisa would help. Yes, Lisa was a wise woman, but as she said herself, she was your mother both. Knowing Chris, he would take it personally if his mother called his shit out about his marriage. You still remembered what happened the last time Lisa agreed with you instead of Chris. He was salty for days.

“I love you, Lisa, but I don’t think talking to you would fix this,” you gently said

Lisa laughed. “I wasn’t talking about me, honey. I meant a therapist.”

“A therapist? Like couples therapy, you want us to go to couples therapy?” you asked.

Lisa nodded. You never thought about that.

“I thought couples therapy was supposed to happen before couples decide they want a divorce.”

“Not necessarily. It could help you express your feelings in a safe place. And, you decided you wanted a divorce, honey. I don’t think Chris agrees with you.”

You frowned. If Lisa thought the warm smile would help you accept the subtle criticism easier, she was wrong. You were even worse than Chris when it came to being right.

You loved being right and hated being told that you could have done something wrong, especially in that very particular situation. You were right. You had to be right. It would kill you to realize you were wrong and left the man you loved for nothing.

“Do you think I went too far…” You said, the tears resurfacing

“Oh no,” Lisa immediately told you. “You did what was right for you, and that’s the most important. I can’t even imagine how you must have felt, alone in that big house.”

A huge weight lifted off your shoulders. Secretly you thought people didn’t understand you. You were married to Chris Evans, living what they thought should be a fairy tale.

Even though you and Chris were what people called a private couple, he would sometimes tell things about you or express his love for you when he was being interviewed. When those things happened, your friends would always send you messages, reminding you how lucky you were.

They didn’t know how far they were from the truth. Most of the time, you were alone in your bed when you were reading their messages. Alone and lonely.

People think they know things about your life, your marriage, but they don’t. They would have to walk in your shoes, feel what you daily felt to actually understand.

When you left Lisa’s house, she had convinced you. She made you realize that even though things between You and Chris were pretty bad, your relationship was worth saving, or at least you owed it to Chis and yourself to try. Even if therapy didn’t work, you still owed it to yourself and Chris to end things the most peacefully possible. Before being your husband, he was your friend. You needed at least that friendship to be saved.

Instead of going back to your best friend’s place, you went home. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. You started driving and found yourself taking the way home. Instead of turning back, you continued. You realized waiting wouldn’t help. You’d waited so much already, now was the time to act.

As you opened your front door, you felt submerged with that particular sent. You were home. Despite what you told Chris yesterday, this house was your home. You chose almost every piece of furniture.

Chris was more than happy to leave it to you; he didn’t understand why you needed so many pillows on the bed or a particular shade of beige for the dining chairs. Instead of explaining everything, you would just ask for his opinion when it was absolutely necessary. Plus, it was hard to decorate a house via FaceTime.

Thinking of it now, decorating this house helped you manage your loneliness for some time. You were proud of every single room, from your bedroom to the laundry room.

You found Chris and Dodger sleeping on the sofa. You weren’t surprised. The couch was probably Chris’ favorite spot in the whole house. You had your office, and he had this sofa.

You were tempted to lay next to them. They felt like home. But you didn’t want to wake Chris up. If there was one thing Chris was lacking, it was sleep. You also noticed the dark circles under his eyes yesterday, and the current situation was not helping his sleep deprivation.

When you noticed a few takeout boxes in the room, you knew exactly how to occupy yourself. Chris used to love your cooking. Your skills were definitely better than his, but as your husband liked to say, one cannot be good at everything. You smiled when you remembered how you would tease him about his horrible cooking skills, and he would remind you how messy you were.

Even now, after thirty minutes of cooking, the countertop looked more like a war zone than a kitchen island.

“It smells good.”

You jumped. You didn’t see Chris coming, and now you had tomato sauce all over your blouse.

“Chris! You scared me!” you said, looking at him.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, observing you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

You looked at him with more attention. He looked less tired. You wanted to say something, but Dodger was all over you before you could open your mouth.

“Hey, baby. I missed you so much,” you said to your dog.

Dodger started to bark. The high pitch he usually reserved to Chris when he was coming back home after long periods of absence.

It broke your heart.

“He missed you,” Chris finally said

You didn’t know what to reply. You didn’t want to say something that would create a hostile environment for the rest of the evening.

“I need to change myself,” you said, showing your now stained blouse.

You were gone before Chris could even blink. Once in your bedroom, you found everything exactly as you left it. You rolled your eyes, mentally asking yourself how Chris could be so organized. And then you realized he wasn’t that organized. It wasn’t just the bedroom that was exactly as you left it. The walking closet and the bathroom were too.

Chris wasn’t sleeping in your room, and you wondered why.

When you went downstairs, you found him making the table.

“I thought I’d made myself useful,” Chris said when he saw you.

You smiled. That was the kind of evening you used to dream about. You and your husband casually sharing dinner together.

Chris was very attentive, serving you wine, asking you if you needed anything. You wished you could be so relaxed. You wished you weren’t about to drop a massive bomb on him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in our bedroom?”

Your question surprised you both.

“I… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem… right.”

You looked at each other, your eyes saying more than a thousand words. Again, you were reminded how easy it would be to just give in, to just come back. But it would be a temporary relief, one you would only enjoy until he’d decide to leave again.

It took you the whole dinner, and filling the dishwasher, and watching the first part of a show to gather enough courage and tell Chris you two needed to see a therapist.

It happened before he was about to kiss you. You could feel it in his eyes, the way they became darker, and the way his body leaned closer to yours. You could feel your heart beating faster and the room suddenly feeling hotter than before.

You wanted to give in, you missed his touch, you missed his kisses. You missed sex with your husband. But you knew it would make things more difficult. Sex had never been a problem in your relationship. Actually, it made you forget about the problems. You couldn’t remember how many times you were on the verge of telling Chris you weren’t happy with the situation and totally forgot about it the minute his hands were on you.

“No,” you said, standing up.

You started walking around the room, trying to compose yourself. It was frustrating how all your perfect, well-prepared plans got ruined the second you were around Chris.

“Y/N,” Chris whispered.

“No, we are not having sex!” you half screamed.

You needed to convince not only Chris but yourself that you were not having sex tonight. But looking at him, looking at him, looking at you made things very hard, literally and figuratively speaking.

“We’re going to therapy,” you quickly said

Chris blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

You cleared your throat. “I said, we are going to therapy.”

You could tell he was surprised. You didn’t know if it was good or bad.

“Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

It was your turn to be surprised. You opened your mouth but closed it immediately after. You wanted Chris to explain himself before jumping to conclusions.

“With how public we are and…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, anger quickly possessing your whole body.

“Y/N…”

“You’re worried about your reputation? Do you even want us to be together, Chris?” you asked him.

“I’m not worried about my reputation. I’m worried about… our privacy.”

“Chris, therapists have a duty of confidentiality,” You said, raising your voice.

“Well, you won’t believe how many people would break it given the right sum,” he screamed back.

You wanted to scream, anything that would release the frustration you were feeling inside.

“Do you even want to fix this?” you ask, as calmly as you were able to

Chris huffed. “I was begging you to come home with me yesterday. Of course, I want to fix this.”

You crossed your arms. “me coming home right now would not fix things; it would bring us back to this,” you said, throwing your hands up.

“And this is so bad, right?” Chris asked, bitterness in his voice.

“No, this is perfect. This is what I want permanently. It will kill me to come back to this if this is not forever.”

The room went silent. So many emotions went through Chris’s eyes, and you were trying to decode them all.

Chris finally drew a long breath. “I am not going to couples therapy.”

His words stung more than you could have imagined. They also unleashed the silent anger that was rising inside of you since the beginning of that conversation.

But instead of screaming and crying and pleading with Chris, you reached for your handbag. You were done trying to negotiate with him. You were done trying to spare his feelings.

You removed the divorce papers that had been sitting in your bag for days now. You threw them on the coffee table near Chris and waited for him to look at them.

You could see him become very pale, and if you weren’t that angry, you would be worried.

“Are they…” He started

“Yes. Divorce papers. We go to therapy, or you sign them. It’s your choice.”

Chris was startled. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m more than serious. I have a pen if you want to sign now.”

You looked serene, but inside, your heart was dropping lower with every second Chris wasn’t doing anything. You knew you were forcing his hand, but he left you no other choice.

“So, what is it going to be, Chris?”

Chris took the divorce agreement into his hands, and you held your breath. Your heart started beating again when he tore them in half.

He gave you a deadly stare, but at this point, you didn’t care anymore. He could be angry, scream at you, even hate you, as long as it meant you were doing something to try to fix things, you could take it all.

“Text me when you find a therapist you can trust,” you said before taking your bag to leave.

If he thought you’d be the only one sweating for this, he couldn’t be more wrong. It takes two to tango. It was about damn time for Chris to act. Because you were sure that this time feeling sorry or even good sex wouldn’t fix things.

Tag List (tell me in the comments if you want to be tagged)

@90girlgolden @jennamarieee623 @spookyparadise69 @coffeebooksandfandom @calirindo @jessyballet @janeyboo @killerstvles @patzammit @inlovewith3 @katelyneann @evatia @breezykpop @n3ssm0nique @mary-on08 @anthonyjanthony666 @dangerouslovefanfic @positionsfyou @killerstvles @ragamuffin285 @sohoseb

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans series #chris evans angst #chris evans fandom #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #smut #series #agnst #marvel #fluff #angst #fixingthebroken #part 3

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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

Text

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image.

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!”

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes.

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race.

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable.

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form.

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur.

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy.

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams.

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice.

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head.

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless.

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.”

#danny phantom #i was watching forever phantom and said 'i should kill danny' and then i fucking didn't #im obsessed with ghost king danny as end game #Im not sure this is the route I would want to go but I want him to end up woth tje crown #its bitter sweet bc its a *lifelong (possibly afterlife) commitment that he didnt get a choice in #he will be happy and he will be a good king but it wasnt his choice and he'll always regret it a little #i love clockwork but he's a bit shady and will always work in favor of the timeline #anyway happy fucking sunday bitches #have some homemade angst #also i typed this directly in tumblr and almost hit the power screen on my computer instead of backspace #god was trying to stop me from publishing but i overcame #Only did one quick edit Im too tired to care anymore #lmk if you want it on ao3

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luci-four · 4 years ago

Text

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for...” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“.....What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait--”

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege's attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day--”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now--”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one--”

“You could do it!”

“--and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord--”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes--”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting--”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See... what, exactly?”

“The--”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“..... I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You... had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but... I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But--”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it--”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he'd have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so... emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean... here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here--”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al...right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems...” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know--”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something... but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs--”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in... to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m--”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess...” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought... if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

#om! diavolo #obey me! diavolo #om! diavolo x reader #obey me! diavolo x reader #om! fic #obey me! fic #om! writing #obey me! writing #satans bookmark #anyway stan diavolo i love him and his lil puppy self

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hoarder-of-danmei · 3 years ago

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heya! finally got around to writing you this message. i kept remembering it during the most unfortunate moments when i had no time to go on tumblr lol

anyway. you don’t have to publish this ask if you’d like to keep your blog drama free! after everything that happened i 100% understand if you just want to keep it a stress-free zone.

i came to say that from the moment i first read the callout post i was a bit skeptical. by that point i had only known you through your fics - which are amazing btw! you have a real gift with words 💕 - but all screenshots provided were singular excerpts with very little context. it did sound like there was a bit of miscommunication going on in your relationship but that is usually a 2 way road: if one is uncomfortable with something, one has a responsibility to draw proper boundaries or otherwise inform the other party about it. if that isn’t done, the other party cannot be blamed for not understanding or noticing that something is wrong. (if it is done, then the other party obviously has to be willing to listen and respect that, but your genuine confusion and surprise at your partner’s unhappiness somehow tells me that this wasn’t an issue.)

i read part of your response about a week ago and it felt like my initial impression got validated. there were a lot of things taken out of context or just blatantly untrue. my heart breaks for all the harassment you had to endure because of that. it’s a little strange, really - assuming that these people read mx/tx’s works, they should know better than to judge a situation where only one of the affected parties have made a statement. it’s probably due to the current internet culture which is very insistent on black/white morality and makes people have a knee-jerk response the moment the dreaded word “pedophilia” gets mentioned, but it still feels like the missed the point of the books entirely.

i genuinely think that you did very little - if anything - wrong. of course it is hard to judge this as an outsider but after everything that happened i think you might appreciate it. there is nothing wrong with writing dead dove stories and there is nothing wrong with projecting your trauma onto fictional characters. there’s nothing wrong with saying that pedophiles should have the right to access therapy without being condemned for thoughts they don’t even want to have. there’s nothing wrong with refusing to make a statement about a callout post to keep things from blowing up, just as there is nothing wrong with changing your mind and defending yourself after all. i’m sorry people keep telling you otherwise and i’m sorry you had to suffer so much just because people want to be “on the side of justice and morality” all the time without considering what that actually means. i’m sorry you lost friends over this. you deserve better.

on a lighter note, i love the little drabbles you’ve been writing recently! i’m not usually one for fics below 5000 words but i always read yours when i come across them. your style of writing is so nice and you have an excellent grasp on the characters 💕 i’ve recognized your name on ao3 since before this whole mess started and always got very excited to see your new stories. i haven’t commented on them bc i’m lazy (sorry lol) but i appreciate them so much! really, thank you for sharing them with us!!!

hopefully things will ease up for you soon. in any case, i hope that you had a good day today and that tomorrow will be even better. lots of love 💕 and congrats on reaching the end on this long-ass ask if you made it this far lol

(context)

I really, really appreciate this ask. ;-; Thank you so much. No, I’m completely okay with talking about this stuff on here, now that the response is out! It helps me to talk about it. I’m glad to get asks about it (excluding rude or abusive stuff, of course).

Yeah, there was definitely a lot of miscommunication in that relationship. I had no idea things were so awful. I really thought the relationship was positive for everyone involved, and that the few scattered hiccups I knew of were just that - normal hiccups in a healthy relationship.

The first “something’s wrong” red flag I even noticed, if I remember correctly, was a disagreement the three of us had on fiction a few days before they both broke up with me. And that seemed like it got resolved - I got the impression some of it was a language barrier problem. I was genuinely surprised when I was broken up with, and even more surprised (and distressed) to receive the messages I added to the document saying that it was because of negative feelings during the relationship. And even those definitely weren’t an accusation of abuse.

Yeah, I feel bad for a lot of people’s reading comprehension. MXTX fans should know better than to dogpile someone based on a document presented so manipulatively and an accusation given without any sort of proof. I’m baffled by how many people claim to think MXTX is an excellent writer and base their online presences around her work… and then proceed to make it very obvious that they’ve completely missed the messages of all three books. I would be ashamed of myself.

Thank you so much. I do think I’ve made mistakes, obviously - I’m human and definitely not perfect - but they’re, like, “didn’t phrase this thing very well” and “said something stupid during a panic attack” and stuff. I do really appreciate you saying all of that. ;-;

Aah, I’m really glad you like my stories!! And I’m honored to be an exception for you. :O Oh, my goodness. Thank you so much for telling me that you’ve read and enjoyed my stuff!!!

Things have been surprisingly okay. I’m worried that it’s the calm before the storm - I’m pretty sure my first tweet/thread to get mildly popular on Twitter will earn me some harassment and potentially an additional callout tweet - but it sounds like it won’t be too big of a storm, with the callout author ghosting everyone.

And today has been good for me so far! I’ve been stressed this past week or so, with working on an addition to the response document - about 23 pages of old harassment added to Section 2, so it was pretty heavy to deal with 😭 - but it’s finally finished and added, and I’m feeling much better already. I might write something today, or I might just poke around on social media and/or nap.

Thank you so much, and I hope your day has gone well so far as well. Again, I really, really appreciate this ask. It meant a lot to see it. 💕💕💕

#asks #anonymous #long #harassment /#abuse /#my posts

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glitterrosesnz · 4 years ago

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it is currently *(checks clock)* midnight in my time zone, which means its technically april 30th, which just so happens to be a certain Mr. Diluc’s birthday-

so, of course, ive got a fic for him

---

Aether entered the tavern, Paimon fluttering behind him as he walked up to the counter with a smile on his face, before pausing, looking Diluc up and down.

"...Are you okay?" He asked, and Diluc sighed.

"I'm fine." He said, and was Aether hearing things, or was that a bit of congestion in his voice? "Is there something you need?"

"Oh! Um, two apple ciders please." Aether said. Diluc quietly prepared the drinks, sliding them across the counter when he was done. Aether put some mora on the table, picked up the two glasses, handing one to Paimon, and with one last suspicious glance at Diluc, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Diluc watched until the two of them were out of sight- and then his breath hitched, and he quickly stifled a sneeze into his arm.

"Heh- Hi'NGKT-uu!" He sniffled as he absentmindedly rubbed his nose on his sleeve, turning back around to face the front of the tavern.

Only to find Venti sitting at the counter, staring at him with an incredibly disapproving look on his face.

Diluc startled a little at his sudden appearance, but quickly pulled himself back together.

"...What?" Diluc asked, "Do you need something?"

"You're sick." Venti said, and the tone of voice he used made Diluc wince, feeling like he'd just been caught doing something bad. "You should go home and rest, y'know."

"I'm fine." Diluc insisted, turning away so that he wouldn't have to keep seeing Venti's disappointed expression. "Besides, there's work to be done here."

There was some rustling behind him, and then a thump, and Diluc cautiously looked over his shoulder- barely keeping himself from jumping in surprise to see that Venti was now standing right beside him. He must've jumped over the counter.

"What are you doing- hEY!" Diluc yelped, voice cracking a little as Venti effortlessly picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him. There were some cheers from the other patrons in the bar, somehow, they'd attracted an audience without Diluc noticing. He struggled, squirming and kicking a little as he tried to free himself from the bard's grip, only to find himself unable to. Venti must've been using some of his godly strength.

Ignoring Diluc's struggling, Venti walked out of Angel's Share, waving to the other patrons as he left.

Did. Did he plan to carry Diluc the whole way back to Dawn Winery?

Apparently not, as Venti paused for a moment, looked around to make sure there wasn't any witnesses-

And teleported the two of them to the statue closest to the winery.

"Apologies, I only have enough power to teleport to statues nowadays." Venti said, starting to walk towards the winery. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

"I can walk by myself." Diluc said, sniffling. "Put me down."

"Nu-uh. No way. I'm genuinely certain that, should I let you go, you shall attempt to go back to work, and that is something I simply cannot allow."

"Aren't you supposed to support me in having the freedom to do what I want?" Diluc asked.

"Not if said 'freedom' is detrimental to your health." Venti said, "You do have limits, y'know?"

Diluc, in fact, did know his limits. And sure, he had been feeling a bit light headed earlier, but that didn't mean he was just going to let Venti carry him all the way to Dawn Winery.

Especially since-

"Ven....Venti, put me..hih.....put me down- hEH-" Diluc squirmed as his breath hitched, the faint tickle he'd been feeling all day suddenly growing a lot more intense. "Hih- Hi'ESCHI-uu! Heh- H'TSSCH-iew!"

"Please at the very least try not to dirty my cloak." Venti said, his stride not hesitating at all as he continued to walk, seemingly, for the most part, unbothered.

Now, what Diluc did next was, admittedly, very petty and childish. But, to be fair, he'd had a long day, so maybe a little bit of pettiness was understandable.

He rubbed his nose on Venti's cloak.

Venti gasped in offense, but Diluc barely payed attention to it, as he suddenly realized exactly why the tickle in his nose had suddenly grown worse.

Venti was covered in pollen.

"HehH-Hi'TSSCH! H'ESSCHI-uu! Hih-" Diluc struggled more in an attempt to distance himself from the allergen, but unless Venti put him down... "Hi'ETTCH-iew!"

"Geez...Are you okay? Those sounded rough." Venti asked, oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for Diluc's increased suffering.

"It's.....hIH....the, the pollen- hEH- H'ESSCHI-iew!" Diluc struggled to say in between hitching breaths.

"The pollen? I don't- oh!" Venti said, the realization striking him. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He finally, finally, put Diluc down, not that Diluc actually was in a proper state to appreciate it. He continued to muffle sneeze after sneeze in his hands, the force of some of them snapping him in half. Venti winced as another sneeze sounded like it tore at Diluc's throat.

"Sorry." Venti said, again. "I... I forgot about your allergies."

"It's....okay." Diluc said, sniffling wetly, the congestion in his voice now significantly worse than before. "I....hih...I try not to make it- H'TSCH-uu!..... make it obvious."

"Still though. I should've remembered." Venti said, and upon seeing that the redhead's sneeze fit was starting to die down, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, take this."

Diluc, still using his hands to cover his nose and mouth, eyed the piece of cloth dubiously.

"I promise it's pollen free this time." Venti said, and Diluc, not seeing any trace of lying or mischief on Venti's face, finally took the handkerchief, using it to both wipe and blow his nose. While he did so, Venti took the time to carefully use his anemo to blow any pollen residue off of himself.

"Dawn Winery is still about ten minutes away." He said, once he was sure he was pollen free. "Are you sure you can walk that far?"

"I'll be fine." Diluc sniffed, pocketing the handkerchief, already planning to wash it and give it back later. "You don't need to come along."

"Hmm. I better make sure you actually go home, instead of wandering off to fight or something." Venti said, smiling a little. "Just to be sure."

"...Whatever."

Night fell over Dawn Winery, and Diluc's body ached in protest as he slowly, and silently, walked down the stairs towards the front door, his claymore strapped to his back. He felt congested, and his head was pounding with a headache that had developed shortly after Venti had dropped him off, and had not gone away despite the small nap he'd taken. But still, despite this, he still had his duties as the "Darknight Hero". Unlike running the bar, which another member of the staff could take over, there wasn't exactly someone who could fill in for his vigilante duties. Which meant that, despite the fact he'd rather just go back to bed, he had to go out and patrol Mondstadt.

"Ahem. Where do you think you're going?"

Diluc froze mid-step, turning his head to find-

Venti, sitting on the window sill, his bow leaning against the wall beside him.

"Were you really planning on going out again while in this condition?" He asked, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "I expected that you'd know better."

"There isn't exactly someone else who can take over this job." Diluc whispered, both out of a desire to not accidentally wake any of the staff that was sleeping in the winery, but also because he'd discovered earlier that his voice was nearly shot.

"I'm sorry? Who do you think I am?" Venti said, sounding offended, picking up his bow and giving it a little twirl. "I've already done the nighttime patrol for you. There was nothing but one or two petty thieves, which I dealt with rather quickly."

"...You did that for me?"

"Mhm. It was kinda fun actually. Gives me something to do, since I don't really sleep anyways..." Venti said, sentence trailing off as he seemed to remember... something. "Anyways, speaking of sleep, you should be getting back to bed."

He jumped down from the window sill, placing his bow to lean against the wall again, walking over to where Diluc stood. Carefully, Venti took the claymore off of Diluc's back, and Diluc couldn't resist his body slumping with relief at the loss of the weight.

He must've been more tired than he thought he was, because he didn't protest as Venti held his hand and led him back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Diluc stumbled a little as he took off his boots, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes as he climbed into the bed. He could deal with the consequences of not changing into pyjama's when he woke up in the morning.

His nose suddenly twitched, and he curled up a little, stifling a sneeze.

"Hih- H'NGXt-uu!" He sighed tiredly after wards, closing his eyes, and Venti laughed as he placed some blankets down on top of him.

"Bless you." He said, and suddenly Diluc felt a lot more comfortable, and relaxed than before.

He felt suspiciously comfortable and relaxed, actually.

Summoning up a bit more energy, he opened one eye to glance at Venti.

"Did you just actually bless me?" He muttered, "Like. In the whole 'godly gift' kinda way?"

"...Maybe. Yes." Venti gave a sheepish chuckle that clearly said that it hadn't been intentional. "Don't worry. You'll just feel more relaxed and free for a day or two. It'll wear off."

Diluc, mildly reassured by that, hummed in response, body fully relaxing as he finally fell asleep with no worries.

#Gen/shin #snz #snz fic #Aether is only there at the beginning..... hjdflskfjslfd #Chaotic Mom Friend Venti strikes again #there is no title because do i LOOK like the kind of person who's good at making titles?? i sure hope i dont because i SUCK at titles

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crispyjenkins · 4 years ago

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dream clouds, ghost ground (real friends, dead hometown)

an accidental jangobi au

( and also @batsutousai and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover but it won’t let me tag you :(

i uhhhhhh plotted this from my prompt roster without rereading the actual ask, so this is completely out of timeline for the anon’s prompt? and i didn’t realise until i was halfway through?? so here’s this??? i already have ideas for a sequel???? (and it’s 3157 words gl)

some context: there’s no age-out, but obi-wan is still sent to the agricorp and stays there. yarael poof inspects the facility 7 years later, and obi has visions of korda 6/galidraan and finagles themself onto the rescue mission of the true mandalorians. cue chaotic, still-has-the-impulsivity-that-got-them-kicked-out obi-wan. who is also nb just for funsies.

title from start//end by eden

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not as Yarael had expected, but then, he had never met them while they lived in the Temple.

The young Jedi breaks away from their group of friends on the other side of Bandomeer’s main greenhouse as soon as they catch sight of Yarael, the other novitiates trying and failing to hold Obi-Wan back from running through the dark green garden beds right up to him. They don’t seem to care that they’ve interrupted Master Fodvam’s tour of the facility, and ignores her to glare at Yarael with a fire in their eyes that he vaguely remembers as being the cause for their failing the initiate program. Stocky and toned with dark freckles on every bit of exposed skin from working the desert Enrichment Zones, Obi-Wan glares up at Yarael with a set to their lips so very like Master Yoda (and Qui-Gon Jinn, for that matter) that Yarael raises a placating hand to the Kubaz master at his side and smiles back down at Obi-Wan.

At first flush, he might have thought Obi-Wan approached him to beg to be allowed to return to the Temple and become a knight —it would not be the first time an old initiate had done so, though they usually attempted such an action much sooner after their reassignment— but instead, Obi-Wan wastes no time in demanding, “You have to go Korda 6, the lives of thousands depend on it.”

“And why is that, young one?” Yarael returns calmly, though Obi-Wan must be pushing seventeen standard; everyone is young to him these days.

Master Fodvam sighs, reaching out to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, but they shake her off. “Obi-Wan,” she admonishes softly, for all the good that does.

“There’s going to be a genocide,” Obi-Wan insists over the sound of their friends trying to call them back across the greenhouse, “Death Watch is going to kill the Mand’alor and slaughter the True Mandalorians, and no one here will listen to me.”

Curious about their absolute certainty, Yarael gently pushes against their mind, but has to jerk away when the Jedi shoves him right back out, Yarael’s second brain fizzling like it had been shocked by a bad power coupling. Perhaps Master Yoda had been too hasty in handing this one over to the Council of Reassignment, when even though Yarael can sense their fear and hurt, their lingering doubt in the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan has not a single crack in their shields. Not a single doubt in themselves.

Master Fodvam shakes her head, but it appears more out of a helplessness than disappointment. “Master Poof,” she says, “Novitiate Kenobi has spoken of this premonition for the last standard tenday, and I’m afraid none of the masters here are versed in the Unifying Force.”

“At all,” they stress.

Interesting indeed, that Master Yoda would nominate Obi-Wan for the Agricorp over the other branches, then, for surely they would have shown precognition as a crècheling. “Novitiate Kenobi, you clearly have complete faith in such a vision.” Yarael doesn’t try to enter their mind again, but does open his senses between them, benignly inviting Obi-Wan into his own instead. “Show me.”

Obi-Wan is bewildered for all of a moment, eyebrows pinched, but then they blink in understanding and snap their eyes closed. A flurry of images is all but shoved into Yarael’s lower brain, a confusing mash of forests and armor and blasterfire, but, yes, there is Vizsla, and there is Mereel, and there is a Mandalorian in blue armor leaving Mereel to die on the battlefield.

“How are you sure this is Korda 6?” Yarael asks, opening his eyes to Obi-Wan’s mentally-drained expression, tanned skin sallow under the freckles.

“I’ve heard some of the mission report,” they say, and let Master Fodvam gently support them where they had pushed her away before; Yarael will certainly have to teach Obi-Wan to strengthen their mental stamina. “Every night for the last tenday I’ve seen this battle, I’ve seen ten different ways it could go, and all of them end with the True Mandalorians’ slaughter, unless we do something.”

The Quermian looks Obi-Wan up and down once more, reaching as far into the Force as he can manage, and he doesn’t have a lifetime seat on the High Council for nothing.

“Then we’ve not a moment to lose, do we?”

If Obi-Wan is surprised Yarael insists on taking them to his ship to join him for his update to the Council, they don’t show it, and don’t appear nervous at all as the holocall connects. In fact, they stand off to the side with their arms behind their back and a serene expression on their face, right until Master Rancisis admits a contingent of Jedi had just left to help a planet deal with a violent insurgence of Mandalorian commandos, led by Jango Fett.

And then Obi-Wan only blinks before turning his gaze up to Yarael. “Then we are too late for Korda 6. We must make for Galidraan.”

The holo of Master Rancisis flickers as he winds and unwinds his appendages until he finally says, “We did not tell you the planet’s name.”

On Rancisis’ left, Master Yoda taps his cane against the floor. “Clear it is, that truth in Novitiate Kenobi’s visions there is. To what extent, we do not know, but great pain I sense if act quickly we do not.”

After meeting each of the other coucilmember’s eyes, Master Rancisis leans forward in his seat and points one undulating finger at Obi-Wan. ”You will go with Master Poof to Galidraan, Novitiate Kenobi; if you leave now, you may make it in time to prevent the Jedi from having a hand in this massacre.”

Obi-Wan checks with Yarael first, their deference almost endearing as they look up at him for confirmation; Yarael cannot help a small smile, and if the Council has not guessed his intentions by now, then they are as blind as a naked womp-rat. “Well, Novitiate Kenobi?” he prompts, “Are you prepared to see this through properly?”

Obi-Wan drops their shoulders to raise their chin instead. “To be truthful, Master Poof, I would have been disappointed to be left behind.”

Obi-Wan is already at the hatch of Master Poof’s cruiser when they finally land as close to the coordinates the Council had given them as they dare, and Obi-Wan sorely wishes they had asked Master Fodvam for a blaster before leaving Bandomeer. Nothing can be done for that now, and there is the more pressing matter that Master Poof had been unable to contact the Jedi already planetside, but perhaps they shouldn’t have expected the Force to make it easy on them.

As soon as the cruiser is settled, Obi-Wan elbows the control panel for the landing hatch and drops right down into the snow; they’re not quite dressed for this weather, not coming straight from the desert Enrichment Zone, but they can hardly feel the cold over the cloying, suffocating fear that saturates the air until even the trees tremble with it. And they might be stronger in the Unifying Force than anyone else in the Agricorp, but Obi-Wan hasn’t been wrist-deep in soil for seven years to come out of it without feeling the Living Force just as strongly.

Run, the trees tell them, and they do, pushing themself up onto more compact snow and taking off for the True Mandalorian camp. Master Poof calls after them, but they don’t slow until they reach the top of the nearest ridge, a sheer drop on the other side right into the camp, and Obi-Wan is forced to look out over their worst vision come to life.

The Mandalorians stand as one facing the opening to the ravine on Obi-Wan’s right, where the Jedi spread out among the tents as Master Dooku reads them a list of false wrongs, and Obi-Wan knows the Mandalorians will not surrender. Mand’alor Mereel’s son stands before Dooku in newly-painted blue and red armor, raising his blaster as Dooku ignites his ’saber, and Master Poof halts abruptly at Obi-Wan’s side and lifts a four-fingered hand, but he won’t be able to Force-suggest anyone in beskar, and—

And he has a lightsaber hanging from his belt.

Obi-Wan had not failed their Jedi training, they were bright and talented and wanted absolutely nothing more than to become a Jedi Knight, but their temper had seen Bruck to the Halls of Healing, and their impulsivity had seen them to the Agricorp despite the potential they had shown in their seven years in the crèche.

Their temper, they have control over that now, Obi-Wan is rarely even angry these days, but their impulsivity has been the, ah... cause for many of the Bandomeer masters’ grey hairs, so to speak.

So Obi-Wan does not think before grabbing Master Poof’s ’saber, barely able to even lift the hilt almost as long as their arm, and leaps from the crumbling snowbank with as much Force behind their feet as they can muster. Sound snaps to silence in their ears, vision narrowing on the scant yard between Jango Fett and his death, as Obi-Wan yanks the Living Force around themself and hauls it up right from the ground, grabs it by the roots of the nearest tree until it sings.

By a miracle of the Force, Obi-Wan lands perfectly between the new Mand’alor and the Jedi, igniting Master Poof’s unusually-yellow lightsaber just in time to deflect Jango’s first blaster bolt right into the ground — the ground that shakes and splits, exploding snow into the air to make way for the evergreen roots that surge through the cracks and grab Dooku’s entire arm, sending his ’saber flying.

Obi-Wan inhales once, twice, before allowing their other senses to flood back to them, and the Force sees fit to immediately make them aware of Master Poof stumbling down the bank after them with his upper hands raised in surrender.

“Peace, Jedi!” he shouts, successfully pulling the gaze of everyone in the ravine away from Dooku’s limb held aloft by mud-slick roots and to himself instead. “We have been misled,” he presses on, almost seeming to glide over the packed snow to stand at Obi-Wan’s back and place a palm between their shoulders, “These Mandalorians know nothing of what you speak, Master Dooku, we are both being played by the Governor of Galidraan.”

Jango Fett growls over his external comms, close enough to make Obi-Wan shiver. “What the kriffing fuck is going on?” he snaps, not bothering to drop his blaster as Obi-Wan glances at him and can just see the shadow of his eyes behind his visor.

“Death Watch had the governor call the Jedi here under false pretences, your grace,” Obi-Wan says, and doesn’t know what to make of the way the Mand’alor twitches at their voice. They can feel their shoulder weakening from hefting such a massive hilt, unwieldy even gripped at the balance point, but Obi-Wan refuses to let their arm shake, not with both sides holding them under such scrutiny; Maker, maybe they should have changed into Jedi robes instead of their dark tunics and kama? It gives them a silhouette neither wholly Mandalorian nor wholly Jedi, and certainly only adds to the confusion.

Nothing to be done about it now.

“The governor lied to the Mandalorians about their targets, to perfectly set them up for a Jedi arbitration,” Master Poof explains. “And of course knew that the Mandalorians would never surrender to the Jedi.” He looks slowly around at both parties, letting his words sink in until the Jedi are shutting their lightsabers off in disgust.

The Mandalorians don’t put away their blasters, obviously, but they do lower them enough to be an act of good faith; only when Jango lowers his own does Obi-Wan power down Master Poof’s ’saber, and is all too happy to hand the weighty thing back to him with a shallow bow.

Master Poof smiles in amusement, clipping the hilt back in its rightful place on his belt, before calmly nodding to Dooku. “Novitiate, you may release Master Dooku now.”

Startled, Obi-Wan immediately calls on the Living Force to pull the roots away from the man and coax them back into the ground, hoping they hadn’t damaged anything enough for the evergreen just up the ridge to suffer.

Dooku massages his red wrist and eyes Obi-Wan carefully, the clouds of breath before his lips casting strange shadows over his face in the dying sunlight. “I was not aware the Agricorp was still teaching Consitor Sato to its novitiates. Nor so... successfully.”

“... Master Fodvam would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to the High Council.”

“I am on the Council, Novitiate Kenobi,” Master Poof chortles, but turns back to the Mandalorians still effusing bewilderment before the new Mand’alor can decide they really are all better off dead. “Mand’alor Fett, I presume?”

Jango shifts subtly, still close enough for Obi-Wan to watch his eyes dart to the Quermian. “For all of a week, jetii; how you are aware of this already does nothing to convince me to trust you. Any of you.”

Master Poof just smiles serenely. “There is little one cannot gather from the Force upon first meeting, your grace. However, you are correct, and I would not be aware of Jaster Mereel's death if my companion had not told me of it.”

Jango doesn't get the chance to ask him to clarify just what that means, the girl padawan at Dooku's side cutting in rudely,

�� “And Master Poof, just who is your companion?” as if she can’t tell from Obi-Wan’s attire that they were a Jedi Knight washout.

So maybe Obi-Wan doesn’t have complete mastery of their temper just yet, but they don’t get to snarl back before Master Poof answers cheerfully, "They are my new apprentice!"

Oh.

“Master Poof...?”

“I cannot very well leave a novitiate so strong in the Unifying Force untrained, can I?” Master Poof shakes his head. "As the matter stands, our duty to Galidraan is not yet complete: the governor has pulled both the Jedi and the Senate into his personal affairs, and has allied with a known terrorist group. Master Dooku, might I suggest we make to arrest the actual perpetrator of these crimes?”

“Vizsla will be there,” Jango interrupts. “And he must know his plan has failed by now, you'll be walking right into a trap.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow. “A trap meant for you, your grace. When we engage Governor Martinet, it would be unwise for the True Mandalorians to still be on planet.”

“Why do you keep calling us that?" he snaps, the blue-armoured Mandalorian at his side grabbing his shoulder to hold him back from... striking Obi-Wan? From removing his helmet? Obi-Wan isn't sure.

They are sure that, if the Jedi succeed in apprehending Vizsla, the New Mandalorians will make themselves known much earlier. “One day, soon, you will need to make the distinction between yourselves, and those that will use ‘Mandalorian’ as a ploy for cultural reform, as claim to an identity that is not theirs,” Obi-Wan says, finding Jango’s eyes behind his visor once more. “The Children of the Watch will choose ‘True’ as that distinction of your people in retrospect, some fifty years from now.”

The Mandalorian holding Jango’s shoulder tenses. “Are you some sort of prophet, kih’jetii?”

“Hardly,” they smile, because the Force promises to back off a little after this mess is all said and done, whenever that may be. “But the Force decided I was the most likely candidate to make it here in time to stop a genocide, though I’m not sure if it knew how much information I actually needed. Irregardless, everything from today is now changed from any visions I had seen of it, I’m no more a prophet than you are.”

Jango twitches again strangely, and his companion tightens their grip on their blaster.

“Novitiate Kenobi is right,” Poof interjects gently. “You should take your people to regroup and recover, your grace, you will be of no use to the galaxy dead.”

“Wait,” Jango grits through clenched teeth. “It would... be unfair for us not to aid you in this, not when this was our disaster, too.”

“There is no need for that,” Dooku says regally, Force-calling his ’saber back to his hand. “This has become a Senate matter, and to involve yourselves further would be an unnecessary risk.”

“So you... want us to just leave?”

Dooku raises a single eyebrow, expression blank otherwise, but Obi-Wan still shudders at the dark anger in the man, the rage that had hit its boiling point upon first meeting Jango and believing he had slaughtered almost two hundred innocent activists. The Force warns Obi-Wan about that darkness, the way Dooku has not yet released it; it also gives them hope, though, that the master can be pulled back into the light, with a little persuasion and lots of tea.

The conversation has moved on without them when Obi-Wan tries to focus back on the crisis at hand, Jango’s commandos already starting to pack up the camp while Dooku and Master Poof quietly discuss the Jedi’s next moves. Neither seem to have realised Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention, which is just fine by them: Master Fodvam is already at wit’s end trying to keep them focused on anything but plants, somedays.

A heavy gaze pulls their own to look up, across the camp to where Jango oversees his people’s retreat, but Obi-Wan knows the Mand’alor’s attention is on them alone. Obi-Wan gazes right back, refusing to the first to look away, and is somehow thrilled rather than disappointed when Jango does just that.

He does not say goodbye, but that’s alright, Obi-Wan knows they’ll be meeting again soon.

Following a stomping Jango up into Jaster’s old ship, Myles won’t stop laughing at him.

“‘The one who will speak of the truth,’” he quotes gleefully, just as jovial in his punching of Jango’s sides as he attempts to unbuckle his helmet, and he doesn’t back down even when his Mand’alor growls at him. “Kriff, who knew that witch would end up being so literal?”

“I told you I don’t believe in that osik,” Jango snaps, trying to shove his best friend off of him. “I don't believe in that old hag's ‘prophecy’ any more than I believe in Jedi competence.”

“Ah ah, Jang’alor, you shouldn’t speak of your ba’buir like that, what would Jaster say?”

Jango finally gets his helmet off and yanks his hood down so he can get right in Myles’ face to snarl, “That adiik is not the future of Mandalore, kriff whatever the fuck Jaster’s buir says! One dream and one crazy old enby witch spouting oracle nonsense does not make Obi-Wan Kenobi my destiny.”

Jango doesn’t need to see Myles’ face to know it lights up in victory. “Nobody said their full name, Jang’alor.”

“Finish that thought and I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

Mando’a:

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore.

jetii — “Jedi” sing, pl. jetiise

kih'jetii — “Little Jedi”, highly offensive

osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit

ba'buir/e — “grandparent/s”, gender neutral

adiik — a child aged from 3 to 13, used here as an insult

Cansitor Sato — Traditional High Galactic for “Plant Surge”, a Living Force-related technique of controlling plants (usually vines) to ensnare or slow an enemy; in legends, this was taught to Agricorp members as well, headcanoned here to be usually only taught to master/older members.

Novitiate — personal headcanon for the form of address for non-master members of the Jedi Corps.

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sparring-hyena · 4 years ago

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Ok remember Book 2 where Becca auditions for the Role in James play . Well this time she gets the role instead of Kait and MC keeps her role. But there is it the kiss in question. So Becca invites MC to her room to rehearse in private and they get to know each other. Soon the kiss comes and once Becca kisses Mc she nor the Mc pulls back and keeps kissing forgetting about the play. Can turn into something more or Becca says she liked MC from the start.

the cast list gets posted on a snowy Tuesday morning.

Becca pushes her way through the throng of people and vaguely hears James say something about how all casting decisions are final. which is fine. she’s reasonable like that.

when she reaches the bulletin board, Becca skims the list and learns that Alex got the lead. typical. but that’s fine. she’s reasonable, remember? and then she finds her name and she’s playing the role of— oh no. the love interest. Alex’s love interest. well, not Alex’s love interest. it’s her character’s love interest, and the distinction is important, she notes. because she would never be Alex’s love interest. would never want to be Alex’s love interest.

but the fact remains, she’s going to have to pretend to be in love with Alex.

“looks like we’re gonna be stage buddies.”

Becca turns around and finds herself face-to-face with Alex. Alex who is grinning like this isn’t the worst possible thing. Alex who is shaking the snow flurries from her hair. and Alex who is flushed from the cold and manages to have the audacity to still look— whatever. it doesn’t matter how she looks.

Becca takes a step back, searches for James to talk some sense into him about why the fuck would you cast the two of us as the leads? when she spots him, he glances over and has the gall to smile and restate what he said before.

“all casting decisions are final!”

fuck.

“so, do you wanna exchange numbers so we can meet up to practice?”

“why would we do that? we’ll rehearse with everyone else.”

“no, yeah, i know that. i just figured it might be a good idea to get comfortable with each other since we’re, y’know—” Alex gestures to the casting sheet.

“fine. are you free Thursday at one?”

“yes.”

“great. meet me at the sorority and we can run lines or whatever.” she leaves then and pretends that she’s not the tiniest bit excited for Thursday.

Thursday arrives and it’s about as pleasant as a root canal. they argue and bicker and Becca cannot fathom why James thought this casting choice was a good idea. she has half a mind to march right over to his apartment and demand answer. demand that he swaps one of them. but that wouldn’t be reasonable. and she is reasonable.

so, she takes a deep breath. collects her thoughts and frustrations and tucks them away for now. she rolls her shoulders and stands up straight, preparing herself to run through this scene again.

“are you ready?” Becca asks, leaving little room for argument.

Alex seems almost surprised by the sudden switch, but she nods and rolls with it.

they run through the scene, and it’s a romantic one. the one where they profess undying love, and it surprises Becca just how easily the words leave her mouth.

there’s a kiss in this scene and she can see it coming, can feel it coming in the way that they speak and move. they’re standing very close together now but are unwilling to go any further.

Alex says her line, something to the effect of i love you and i will always love you and then pauses and waits. because this is where Becca says it back and then, well—

“we don’t have to, uh… i mean, we do have to. eventually. but not now.”

“right,” Becca says, her voice just a smidge bit higher than it usually is. she clears her throat and tries again. “you’re right.”

“that’s a first.” Alex smirks. “you agreeing with me.”

“don’t let it go to your head.” Becca smiles too and is so glad for the shift in conversation. although she wonders why this feels so easy and natural.

Alex’s phone buzzes then, shattering whatever it was between them. Alex checks her phone and curses. “sorry, i’ve gotta run.” she gathers her things and pulls her coat back on. and once she’s ready to leave, she stops in front of Becca and offers a smile that feels genuine. “this was fun. i’ll see you later.”

and then she’s gone and Becca’s alone, wondering when her room suddenly got so cold. and okay, maybe today wasn’t as bad as a root canal. but whatever. that’s hardly the point.

the point, Becca realises a few days later at the first official rehearsal for the play, is that Alex is infuriating. infuriating for a few different reasons but the main one right now is how easily she steps in and out of her role. how easily she plays the role of a woman in love.

the touches and the looks all mean so much when she’s Alex pretending to be someone else. and maybe that bugs Becca because how can she just put our feud aside so easily? doesn’t it mean something to her?

“Becca,” James says, and Becca suddenly realises she’d zoned out. everyone’s staring at her now. “it’s your line.”

“oh, right. sorry.” she clears her throat and finds her place on the page again.

the rehearsal carries on and once they finish for the day, Alex finds her outside in the cold and asks if they can meet up to practice again.

Becca surprises herself when she says yes.

their meetups become something of a weekly thing. it happens by accident, Becca insists. and maybe that would mean something if she didn’t also insist that Alex’s very presence annoys her. because it hasn’t for a while now, and Becca’s starting to wonder if it ever did. wondering if what she felt was just misplaced frustration. but that’s too big to unpack right now, so Becca focuses on the scene they’re practicing.

it’s the scene. the one with the kiss. and there’s been a knot sitting in her stomach since she first read the cast list all because of this one fucking scene.

Alex is holding her hands in her own, squeezing every so often when she wants her words to impact. and it works. she feels each and every word as though Alex were speaking them to her from the heart. and then Alex goes off-script.

she says things that couldn’t possibly relate to the play and Becca doesn’t care. she allows herself to get sucked in and just forgets that the whole purpose of them being together is to rehearse for a play. so, when Alex leans in to kiss her, Becca meets her halfway, and then the whole entire world just falls away in a snap.

when they pull apart, Becca realises, in horror and elation and everything else in between, that the kiss definitely meant more than two scene partners playing a role. she runs from her room, from the sorority, from Alex, before she can tell herself no, and goes to the one person who can maybe give some insight.

Becca is fuming by the time she reaches James’s building. one elevator ride later, she’s standing in front of James’s front door and knocks until it swings open.

“why did you cast us?” Becca says as soon as the door opens.

“excuse me?”

“why did you cast me and Alex as the leads?”

James seems to understand the question for what it is. he steps aside and motions for Becca to come in. she follows him into the kitchen and stands somewhat awkwardly as he makes two cups of coffee.

“i don’t know if you noticed, but the two of you have real chemistry. i’ve seen how to two of you interact with each other, watched how you argue, and there’s so much passion there.”

“there’s not—” Becca laughs. tries to brush it away. “we don’t— i mean, believe me, there’s no chemistry between us.”

James smiles at her, almost sad that she can’t see it. “well, why do you think i cast the two of you as my leads then?”

“to torture us.”

James laughs, the sound deep and full, and pushes a mug across the counter to Becca. “i assure you, that’s not why.”

“then why?”

“i told you why,” James says, firm yet understanding. “deny it if you want, but the two of you work well together. you have a very special type of chemistry that most people spend years searching for but never find.”

Becca sips her coffee, mulls over James’s words, and then says, “i doubt people spend years looking for what we have. we argue and shout and call each other names.”

“i think there’s more to it than that.”

“there isn’t.”

“okay.”

“okay? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means okay.”

she places the mug down, fixes James with a steely gaze, and says, “we don’t have chemistry. we’re just—” Becca stumbles over her words, doesn’t quite know what she’d been trying to say. “thanks for the coffee.” and then she leaves.

she mulls over James’s words on the way home. realises that maybe, maybe, he has a point. she goes to the quad to clear her head and is surprised to find Alex there too.

“you ran,” Alex says, and her tone conveys just how hurt she actually is.

“i know.”

“why?”

Becca doesn’t answer. doesn’t know how to answer. what answer could she give that would explain running like that?

“i’m sorry that i said those things,” Alex says. “obviously it made you uncomfortable and i didn’t mean to do that. it all just sorta… spilled out.”

there’s a reasonable way to respond, Becca realises. reasonable would be letting whatever flicker of a flame is between them fade out. reasonable would be carrying on with life and never thinking about Alex again. but fuck being reasonable. being reasonable is boring, and that kiss they shared and those words Alex said made her feel more alive than ever before.

“don’t be sorry,” Becca says, taking that leap. she steps closer to Alex and brushes their hands together. “i’m sorry. for running, for being a bitch, for everything.”

Alex smiles and steps closer too, bridging that final distance between them. she loops her arms around Becca’s waist and Becca places her hands on Alex’s shoulder.

“you weren’t a bitch.”

“i dropped my iced coffee on you when we met.”

“every couple has a meet-cute.”

“oh, so now we’re a couple?” Becca says, her tone light and teasing.

“if you want.”

“what i want is for you to kiss me.”

and Alex does.

#my writing #becca davenport #becca x mc #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #the senior #playchoices #request #anon

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