#i wish i had a crystal ball man that would be sick

[tea-and-naps]

I need a new blorbo to rotate in my mind as I gaze into the orb for hours on end

[doofnoof]

In Defense Of Mrs. Westenra:

This is going to sound absolutely insane, but I understand why Mrs. Westenra removed the garlic from Lucy's room, and think it was a genuine attempt at kindness rather than a selfish act done entirely foolishly, though regardless of her motives she's still doomed poor Lucy to death.

Let me explain: we're seeing some masterful use of dramatic irony here, I almost wish I could buy Bram Stoker a drink for how positively stunningly he's put the dramatic irony into motion, because it is absolutely sickening and heartwrenching knowing that Lucy is well and truly going to get even sicker and then die, because her mother removed the one thing protecting her from Dracula from her room.

We the audience are fully aware that this is a bad thing Mrs. Westenra has done, that she's doomed her daughter and is putting her directly in danger, that her smugness at the situation is so entirely misplaced that we want to scream and cry and curse and pull our hair out the way Van Hellsing did the instant she left the room, or the way Seward's anger is barely contained as he writes out today's entry. Bravo to the Re: Dracula cast for how downright upsetting this episode was, from hearing a usually silly man weep aloud to almost being able to see Seward's jaw clench from how he recounts what happened. You can almost imagine how Van Hellsing must have wept when his son died, as he loves Lucy as if she were his own daughter.

But here's the thing. Mrs. Westenra has been left out of the loop of what's happening with Lucy, she's unaware that Lucy knows she's sick, and with only a little time left she needs to get Lucy well enough to get married, so that when Mrs. Westenra inevitably dies Lucy is taken care of, she has enough money and a good enough reputation to get the care she needs when Mrs. Westenra can't try to provide it for her anymore. This is a very old-fashioned way of thinking, but Mrs. Westenra was raised in an old-fashioned time, likely when there was a cholera outbreak in London and the bad air theory first started to circulate, while Lucy is being raised in a new and (what must seem to Mrs. Westenra) frightening London, and old people are often set in their ways even now.

How many times have you, the audience, been told by a well-meaning older person in your life to "just hit the streets" when out looking for a job? They don't understand that times have changed, and it's easier to just nod and smile and say "sure thing, you're absolutely right Peepaw, I'll do just that" than to argue with them on it, because they're looking at the world through their lived experiences, the past, rather than how the world is currently.

Mrs. Westenra is also a disabled woman, she has a congenital heart disease that has only recently been fully diagnosed, and her life is slowly dwindling to an end, and she is watching helplessly as her daughter is sick with a disease no one seems able to cure. She has every right to be suspicious of Van Hellsing and Seward, because they can't and won't even tell her what's causing Lucy's illness, won't explain the garlic, and didn't even tell her they'd put garlic in her room.

Van Hellsing knows it's a vampire and can't fill anyone in on it, because that's supernatural hogwash, old-fashioned buffoonery, flying in the face of logic and science and everything the New London is striving for. Nobody would believe him anyways. Lucy thought the garlic was ridiculous, and even Seward himself felt as though Hellsing was being irrational (when Seward was Hellsing's student, and looked up to him as though he knew every secret in the world, but still questioned him on this one thing, fearing Hellsing was turning to Oujia Boards and Crystal Balls instead of Science and Logic,) and both only understood and accepted that Hellsing knew what he was doing from his intense and dead serious response to being questioned, and then seeing for themselves that Lucy had slept well, and had color in her cheeks again.

Mrs. Westenra saw none of this. She does not knows who Hellsing is, doesn't know that Lucy trusts him more than she trusts anyone else in the world save for Mina, and she doesn't know that he's helped Arthur save Lucy's life, nor does she know that Seward is in much the same boat, that he'd given his own blood and sleep and sanity for Lucy's sake out of love for her and his friendship with Arthur and Hellsing, who in turn trusts him with Lucy's health and safety.

Mrs. Westenra does know some things though. She knows that doctors, who rely on science and logic, weren't able to catch her heart problems in time to save her life, that she's dying and becoming rapidly unable to take care of her daughter, who is also sick with an illness doctors previously haven't been able to diagnose and treat. It went away on it's own, and came back again worse than ever before later in life, much like Mrs. Westenra's heart problem. This may seem foolish, but part of why I love Dracula is because every character feels like someone you might meet today, rather than a person almost 100 years ago.

How many times have we, the audience, heard of medical malpractice going unpunished and ignored, especially because the target of the malpractice was a woman? There must be at the very least a handful of you. I know from experience (personal and from being there for friends and family) what it's like to be told you're imagining your pain (in hysterics), you're being over-dramatic, (you're hysterical) it's just normal period pain and will go away (women and the constant fainting at the slightest pain, amiright fellas), have you tried losing weight, have you tried exercise and fresh air, have you tried eating this one diet or another, maybe it's all mental, go to this doctor or that and doing exactly as you're told only to be met with a door to the face, and if you're lucky, eventually getting diagnosed and maybe even given medicine for your ailments instead of just a bill and a smack on the ass. Mrs. Westenra finally got a clear answer for herself as it was revealed she's dying. Lucy has yet to get an answer.

So lets put all of this together. Mrs. Westenra is watching as strange men sneak around her home and into her daughter's room, she's just been diagnosed with a disease that is killing her and there's nothing the doctors can do to fix it, I doubt she trusts any doctors right now even though we the audience know she's dealing with a really wonderful doctor, even Mr. Medical Malpractice Warning himself is doing everything in his power to make Lucy well again, and for the first time since his introduction with his proposal to Lucy, he's putting logic aside to be kind to someone who is relying on him for help, promising to wake Lucy from her sleep if she has nightmares. Mrs. Westenra doesn't know this. She's going to die, her daughter is keeping secrets from her, and her saving grace is that Lucy is going to be married to a good and kind gentleman who will use his wealth to keep her relatively healthy seeing as Lucy is going to be his wife, and she can't have anyone making Lucy seem like an unchaste woman lest her plan falls apart and she's not able to make sure her daughter is wed and thus, safe. Mrs. Westenra knows that even gossip of Lucy sleeping around could make the whole thing fall apart, because Arthur has a reputation to uphold, and so does Lucy. Lucy is a new woman in a society where the old ways are dying or being reborn, and likely doesn't understand her mother's fears, knows that her friends would never hurt her, but that doesn't matter in the eyes of society because at the end of the day she is an unwed woman left alone with a man, a prior suitor no less. She walks into her daughters room and sees these men have left flowers everywhere, and worse is that they stink to high heavens.

Lucy seems better, but Mrs. Westenra has never gotten to see what Lucy looked like after Dracula fed on her, so to Mrs. Westenra these heavily scented flowers are going to look like something doing more harm than good. She knows from being raised in an old-fashioned society that fresh air does a lot of good, that's why Lucy went on that vacation with Mina, and she doesn't know how bad Lucy's sleepwalking got because everyone stopped telling her anything after they found out about her heart, at Lucy's behest no less. She feels like fresh air works, and these idiot doctors trained in the new ways (that have proven unhelpful, they couldn't save her could they, so how would they know what Lucy needs?) have gunked up her daughter's room and are inadvertently making her worse with the foul smelling flowers. Mrs. Westenra was probably alive as well when the cholera pandemic was in full swing and explained as being caused by bad air, and she can see her daughter is sick and wants to help her. So she takes the noxious flowers out of Lucy's room and opens the windows, and tries to get the men-folk to understand that they're no longer needed, not understanding herself that her attempt to rid the room of bad air has instead let what's keeping Lucy sick in rather than keeping it out, and by trying to protect Lucy from being preyed upon she has inadvertently let a very evil thing who is going to prey on Lucy in every meaning of the word into her room, where she should have been safe.

She doesn't know she's in a horror novel, and she only has what she can see as evidence. She made the wrong choice because she loves her daughter and is trying to take care of her, even though she's failing miserably because she's applying a bandaid to a burn wound, so to speak. Right now many people hate Mrs. Westenra for her smug attitude and for letting something evil hurt her daughter, for undoing all the hard work Seward and Hellsing have given up sleep and blood for, but I think it's a little unfounded. She's an old fashioned woman in a new world, doing her best for her daughter's sake, and it's not her fault she doesn't know all of the details, and she can't know the details because it will kill her and possibly make Lucy's situation even more dire.

That's what makes Lucy's death so tragic. To save Lucy they'd need to scare Mrs. Westenra and she would die, which would affect Lucy horribly and more than likely kill her as well. If Lucy dies Mrs. Westenra will follow suit. So they have to keep both alive, and that can't happen as long as Dracula has his sights set on Lucy. It's dramatic irony because only we know that it's Dracula, that the garlic helps, that the supernatural is real, that Dracula is a thinking thing that intends to kill Lucy. Van Hellsing can't tell Seward what's killing Lucy, and even if Seward believed Hellsing, he would never be able to tell the Westenras because their health is caught in such a fragile balancing act, and they'd never believe either of them anyways. The only thing that could save Lucy is Jonathan, and he comes back to London far too late, half out of his mind and trying desperately to live the life he'd always wanted with his new wife.

It makes the scene where Dracula well and truly fucks up by feeding on Mina that much more powerful, because Dracula doesn't understand nor realize that Jonathan will kill him for doing to Mina what he had done to Jonathan, and the Harker's friends, Lucy's suitors, experienced firsthand the suffering of losing someone they love more than life itself. Lucy had to die for Dracula to be vanquished. Lucy's mother had to make the bad decision so the story could end with Dracula's death.

Without her death, Lucy's Polycule wouldn't have had the push they needed to band together for the Harkers (who get to have what Lucy lost. Lucy and Arthur could have been married happily, so entirely in love, and seeing as Seward and Quincey both almost had that with Lucy had they not been rejected and are Arthur's closest and most trusted friends, all of them suffering in unison because of Lucy's death, Lucy is the piece that ties everyone together. Everyone in Dracula loves Lucy. The polycule knows what it's like to lose the love of their lives, and they see Dracula trying to put Jonathan through that same suffering, they see Dracula hurting Mina who Lucy arguably loved the most out of any one of them, and decide they can't let it happen ever again.)

[sonicasura]

Barbara's Unique Family

I figured why not expand on this? There will be five little scenarios where our favorite badass doctor gets herself a kid. Three has Jim being neither species shown in Tales of Arcadia while the other two is a sibling under the same circumstances.

Let's get started?

Thingamajig and the Doctor

Yup! I'm starting with a Rayman flavored Jim as I honestly think it would be more hilarious when he kicks his rogue gallery's ass. A lot of them already underestimated him as a human so why not make the guy even more 'looks harmless but can kill you'?

This Jim will have other traits than the standard Limbless since I tend to make subspecies for a lot of stuff. Pointed ears, horns, thick werewolf style fur, claws, tusk like fangs, the ability to harden his skin alongside hair into thick blue bedrock similar to troll hidden, blue stripes that expand into said bedrock coat when activated, and a spiky crystal ball that follows him around as if attached to an invisible tail.

Now Thingamajigs are a pure magic species related to dreams. So Jim has dream/wish magic to put properly. It's only as strong as his belief, imagination and magic reserves. He can turn himself human but not poof Bular out of existence type range. There's also the normal Thingamajig abilities such as the Haircopter, running on walls, shrinking and not needing air.

Barbara finds Jim when he's two years old. He got himself stuck in the trashcan looking for food and she heard him crying. James is already out of the picture but I will say if he was there then the man will be gone. Either because he left on his own volition or she kicked him out for being heartless to a lost baby.

Jim becomes friends with Toby when they're four as kids tend to wander off and he's no exception. Barbara has him take online classes albeit any video call lessons have the monitor off or other excuses about his inhuman appearance on screen. Jim is around 11 years old when he finally able to hold onto a human disguise for more than twelve hours a day.

He attends public school afterwards which definitely earned him some attention for awhile. Like no one has seen Jim's human face before and assumed his 'big nose' persona is just a computer filter. Also for any Jlaire fans, they kiss with his human disguise or rub noses(kunik or 'Eskimo Kiss') in his true form.

Jim still freaks out a bit when Blinky and AAARRRGGHH break into his house. Although that's because there are two strangers in his home than them being trolls. Jim might use his Limbless nature to be a weird little shit. Back when he was little, Barbara had to check her bags before leaving for work as he tended to slip in there. Whether she got just Jim's head or his whole body is a coin flip at best. He was a clingy baby and later been teased for that with baby pictures.

Barbara's Tiger Son

For this one, Jim is getting a brother in the form of my OC Léi Yún. (Old doodle that I plan to redraw soon. He's based on a species called Azafuse/ Bakaneko(version based name) from a different series called Ushio and Tora.)

Léi Yún is a wanderer who has a habit of stealing an unsuspecting person's food. Albeit he made a bad mistake when he decides Barbara's attempt at egg salad would be a good target. Imagine her reaction when she caught a five year old Jim patting the back of an ill tiger yaoguai hung over the kitchen sink.

Barbara's food made him so sick that he can't exactly fly away or even use magic without feeling queasy for a few days. Enough time to find out Léi Yún is essentially a child and adopt him in seconds. The Azafuse follows Jim to school by turning invisible to those who aren't spiritually attuned. Basically the school doesn't know they have an extra student, at least until the last two episodes. He met Toby by stealing Nana's cookies and Tobes caught him.

Now yaoguai tend to age quite strangely between each individual. Most mature normally like humans, take centuries like trolls but some have certain requirements that need to be done first. Léi Yún is one such yaoguai as he's actually 600 years old despite his child appearance. He needs to haunt someone or a place to properly reach maturity. What better people than the Lakes?

Léi Yún's species can get quite big so in his 10 year stay, he matured into an near adult around AAARRRGGHH's size. Of course he can make himself feel weightless like most spiritual based entities. Thus Léi Yún could do this despite the size difference between him, Jim and Barbara.

Also Barbara is sooo finding out about Jim's Trollhunter role as a certain older brother will tell her. Léi Yún ain't dumb. He knows Jim's new double life gonna drag everyone in the crossfire whether he wants it to or not. Plus its better to have a medic for any lethal injuries. Just because Barbara taught Léi Yún first aid doesn't mean he can handle broken ribs. Also that binding spell is the only thing keeping the Azafuse from zapping Strickler like he did to Bular and Draal(for being a dick to Jim earlier).

Even a Beast Deserves Love

For this one, Jim is gonna be a Lamortmon mainly to fit the Beast motif. (Lamort means death in French. Fitting when this Digimon is known for extreme berserker tendencies with the smallest slight unless calmed down. Jim was taught anger management at an early age.) I'm going for the Digimon Fusion rules so he hatched from an egg and grew up in this form.

Barbara found Jim's egg hidden by a dumpster when out shopping. He hatched at home and she raised him as her own. In a sense, Barbara is his Tamer but a Digivice has yet to form...for now. Her relationship with James doesn't last long when he discovers a one year old Jim and practically runs. House is later renovated to make him more comfortable such as having enough room to move around alongside cooking without issue.

The young Lamortmon does befriend Toby by sneaking into his yard. Unlike the others, Arcadia ends up finding out about Jim when a nasty fire broke out in a store. He was hiding inside Toby's phone while his best friend was looking for snacks. The 10 year old rescues everyone who been trapped inside and became a precious secret hidden from outsiders by the townsfolk.

Barbara had him doing online classes so Jim integrating to public school wasn't difficult. He's usually in a small handheld carried around by Toby except for classes outside or inside the gymnasium. Strickler definitely spat out his coffee and had a WTF moment seeing Jim at school.

Why is this strange creature out in the open??? Is he trying to get everyone's attention? Nevermind the fact a 15 year old Jim is just a mere two feet shorter than Gunmar. He might've gotten a glamour mask by an anonymous source *cough* Strickler *cough* mainly to lower the risk of Bular and the Lamortmon meeting.

Now as for Jim's missing weapons and armor for his species, the Amulet will be providing his twin blades alongside the metal gauntlets than just the Trollhunter armor. He does tell Barbara about the trollhunting business since he rather not have her oblivious to the dangerous responsibility now shoved onto him. Man needs some more hugs.

Loving Shadows

Another OC this time with my undead magical experiment Ling Shēng. (Another doodle I plan to revamp.) He's a runaway failed clone of the Six Eared Macaque, a Celestial Primate whose six ears can hear the past/present/future, made via stolen magic alongside corpse magic. Personality wise, Ling Shēng is a lonely 7 year old who rather play leap frog with an actual frog and be helpful but is scared to interact in fear of being hurt.

Barbara discovers him one day when she notices a 5 year old Jim's shadow is acting strange every night before bed. Almost if someone is standing behind. Quick google search leads to the conclusion of a Diao Xue Gui or "hanging on boots ghost", a mischievous but mostly harmless spirit. Barbara manages to gently coax Ling Shēng out of hiding.

She didn't expect the ghost to actually be a small monkey child and is quick to adopt him. Ling Shēng is the only one who can actually use healing magic but also purification magic. A nice boon when it comes to dealing with a certain evil sorceress and troll warlord with a mind control fetish alongside stone poison issues.

Ling Shēng is introduced to be Toby through Jim as he figures his new brother needs more friends. The undead yaoguai takes online classes but does follow his human family and friend through the shadows. Since he's a clone, it doesn't take long for him to mature into a young adult in those 10 years.

Ling Shēng is still a shy stuttering mess who loves family hugs and sweets despite being a 7'11 tall undead monkey yaoguai built like Bruce Lee with a Día De Los Muertos skull bearing piercing violet eyes for a head. He does tell Barbara during the Win, Lose or Draal incident. Ling Shēng doesn't want these secrets to hurt his family further.

Mother's Wolf

We're going for a werewolf Jim or to put aptly, a Wolfssegner. A type of Wolfskin from Fire Emblem who can switch between a human and beast form. Although Jim will have to cover ears, tail, alongside have an excuse for his more hairy body. Now Wolfskin require a gem called a Beaststone to manage their transformations better. Jim doesn't have one so he has to learn the ropes while he grows up.

Barbara finds him in the woods when he was just a baby. James already dipped as she caught him being unfaithful once coming back home. Jim doesn't shift until he's five. A playdate with Toby goes awry when a mountain lion house breaks into his the Domzalski's backyard.

Jim transforms to protect his best friend, the animal runs off clearly intimidated by grizzly bear sized werewolf. This leads to a lot of camping trips so Barbara can help her son become accustom to his other form. It might've started an urban legend known as the 'Giant Horned Wolf of Arcadia Forest'. (A 15 year old Jim's beast form is nearly the size of a small bus.)

He attends public school but wears a hair brand to make the illusion that his ears and tail are fake. As for his fur patches, Jim has the Werewolf Disease excuse. Basically the only thing that'll blow his mom's thought out cover plan is him transforming. If he needs to use his other form, Barbara gave Jim the idea to shift one or two of his limbs than a full transformation.

He does tell his mother after the Win, Lose or Draal episode. Mainly cause she would easily find their new troll protector in seconds. Jim's puppy brain got him into some nutty shenanigans when he was younger so Barbara will definitely find out if he's hiding something in the house.

And that's it! I probably do one with Strickler later. Draal too as we know Barbara would've adopted him if she could. Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Arcadia.

[wtl-archive]

Ask - Okay

rockstar-bonett asked: Umm… Okay, this looks bad. I'm assuming if Steven is still alive he isn't awake so I'm gonna ask Druid: Are you okay? Is Steven okay? Is he gonna make it?

"It's fine, he'll be fine, he's fine!" Druid says to himself out loud, repeating the reassurances like a dying man's mantra. The voice that chokes it's way out of his throat hardly registers as his own, each word being distorted and slurred by the now inhuman shape of his jaw. "I can fix this… I can fix this… I ca-"

The younger version of himself shifts, mouthing silently as he tries to stand back up. He looks so small, so vulnerable lying there on the cold stone, curled into a bloody, shaking ball. There's no shred of the outgoing, loving teenager that embraced him a few hours ago, and it's all your fault, Druid thinks, whimpering.

This wasn't the first time the… sickness had flared up, but this was the first time anyone else was around to deal with it, the first time he completely lost himself to it's clutches. He hoped he could keep it in check, at least for long enough to capture White. Clearly hope wasn't enough.

"Don't move!" Druid commands, panic building in his chest as he inches towards Steven on all fours. He's unsure if Steven can even understand him, but he stops trying to get up and sinks back down to the ground regardless. "It's okay!" he lies, "You're gonna be okay, you hear me? Everything will be okay." It's a series of promises made for himself just as much as it is for the shivering child in front of him.

Steven just groans in response. His body is eerily still, besides the occasional tremor, but his eyes are tense and fearful, darting around constantly but never properly focusing on anything. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn't in the present.

Carefully, Druid examines the wound on his back. He's no medical expert, (that was Connie's department), but the crystal seems to have missed anything too vital, namely his spine. The injury is a few inches across, much wider than it is deep, thank the stars. A little healing spit and Steven should be fine.

Druid licks his hand, relived to see the saliva on it faintly sparkling and covered in a subtle pink sheen. His powers are still working properly! Despite his outward appearance, he's still good on the inside!

Relief soon turns to dread, however, as he tries to put the saliva on Steven's back. His previously frantic, darting gaze snaps to Druid, his whole body lighting up pink in an instant.

"Don't touch me!" he cries, the sheer terror in his voice making Druid's heart sink. He grabs his shirt around where his gem would be underneath, the effort of doing so making him tremble even more than he already was. "Don't hurt me… please… don't take it… from me…" Slowly, his focus breaks, and the pink glow leaves most of his skin, only the bridge of his nose remaining lit. "I… n-need… it…"

Druid's left ear flicks as the realization of what is going on in Steven's mind settles within his own. He looks down at his monstrous clawed hands, wishing so badly that they were anyone else's, and steels himself for what he has to do next.

Moving as quickly and gently as he can, he picks up Steven and lays him face down over his legs, trying his best to ignore the child's panicked cries as he flails around helplessly in his grasp. "I'm sorry…" Druid whispers. "I'm so, so sorry…"

He repeats the apology over and over, knowing full well there's nothing he could ever say to properly express his remorse, to heal the damage that he's done, to ever make this innocent soul whole again.

By the time the wound is closed and the blood is cleaned up, Steven is unconscious, having worn himself out with all of his desperate flailing and screaming (though the blood loss likely wasn't helping in that regard, Druid notes). He places him under a pyramid of crystals, softly kissing his forehead and carving one last apology into the dirt before crawling out of the stone pit and into the darkness beyond.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

Read all the pages in order here.

Blog Info

Hmm. Kinda wanna draw something for this scene. I don't think the writing has aged too poorly in comparison to some of the other stuff I've made.

Writer Credit: NugatorySheep

[spxllcxstxr]

Shades of Green • B.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hey could i request something for Benedict Bridgerton. Maybe the reader is jealous because he’s courting someone else maybe a princess or something. — anon

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton promised you a dance at Lady Danbury’s next ball but you find he’s a bit preoccupied with a Duchess instead

Warnings: fem!reader, jealousy, historical inaccuracies, drinking?

Word Count: 978

A.N: is this historically accurate? No. Is Bridgerton historically accurate? Hell no. So we’re all going to just deal with it lmao, switched up the request just a wee tad bit like otherwise it’s the same, first time romantically writing for Benedict so I hope you guys enjoy it! I actually loved writing this lmao

•

With your jaw tightly set you watched from the edge of the ballroom as Benedict danced yet again with the Duchess Charolette Frederica.

The German Duchess managed to snag him for the first dance and hasn’t let him go since. With the amount of times they’ve twirled around the ballroom, you’re surprised they haven’t yet been sick.

You attempt to hide your scowl behind your wine glass as they pass by you, Benedict smiling at her as she bats her eyelashes. Their fingers are intertwined, though hers are covered by white lace gloves. You wish that were you in her stead. However, here you are, standing at the edge of Lady Danbury’s elegant ballroom.

The day before last Benedict called upon you, informing you that he wanted your first dance and that he had something important to ask you. At that time you thought, quite hopefully, that he would finally be asking to court you, though now it seems you had been wrong this whole time.

The shimmering diamonds draped across the base of your neck gone to waste.

The grip on your crystal glass tightens.

“I am no artist, but I can recognize a shade of green when I see it,”

Your gaze slides away from the two dancers, instead landing on one of his younger sisters. Eloise stands next to you, arms crossed against the bust of her lilac dress, smirking. While you practically considered Eloise a sister, you despised being on the receiving end of her smug countenance.

“What ever do you mean, Eloise?” You try to relax your features and keep your eyes trained on the young lady, but you awfully desire to bring your eyes back to her brother and his current dance partner.

One eyebrow raises. “You have declined every man that has asked you to dance so far tonight, all while watching my brother like a hawk,” One of her hands is placed delicately on the one you’re clutching the glass with. “You are jealous,”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Heart beating rapidly at being discovered, you turn your head back to the ballroom.

“I am not color blind, nor am I blind to the look of love,”

You lightly rip away from Eloise’s grasp in order to sip at your rosé. Maybe if you don’t respond to her she’d find another one of her brothers or Penelope Featherington to impose upon.

It was quite clear to you that you were being harsh to Eloise, but you’d been hurt enough at this ball and you didn’t want to be reminded of your unrequited love.

You take another sip as the music dies down.

“Brother!” Eloise calls from beside you, not giving up in the slightest.

You watch as he turns to face the two of you, ignoring the Duchess’ comments and dodging her wandering hands.

“Benedict, come join us, we need an artist’s opinion!”

He bows slightly to the lady in front of him before striding over to your spot. Breathing deeply, you attempt to compose and ready yourself for Benedict Bridgerton.

Up close you can see that his face is freshly shaven and his shirt is crisp and new. He hasn’t yet raked his hands through his dark hair or loosened his collar. He looks like perfection, like he hadn’t just been exerting himself dancing.

Maybe you’re staring a bit too long and a bit to intensely at the dark flecks in his already dark eyes because he coughs slightly and almost chokes out a question to his sister.

You look at her, wondering as well why she called Benedict over.

“Brother, what shade of green would you call the one adorning (Y/n)’s face?” She gestures to your head, and you almost gape at the nerve she has.

Benedict’s features actually relax as he briefly glances at you.

“I’d say it is looking quite like a healthy forest green,” Benedict smirks, answering quickly as his brown eyes run over your features. Unknowingly you hold your breath as he focuses on solely you.

His close attention has your face heating up and your heart beating faster. Thickly, you swallow.

His fingertips softly graze your cheekbone. “Well now it has swiftly changed to vermillion!”

Mortified, you stutter out protests as Eloise snickers.

The music crescendos, signaling the start of another dance. Before you know it, Eloise takes the glass out of your hand and Benedict offers an open palm to you.

“I promised you a dance and a question, Lady (Y/n). May I perhaps have this one and an answer?” His teeth are slightly crooked and stained and yet his smile is something that you can’t help but mirror.

Warmth blossoms throughout your chest as you accept his hand.

He pulls you closer to his chest, your fingers tangled together.

“I have wasted so much time already, (Y/n), and I no longer wish to prolong this,” Benedict starts, his voice low. “I wish to properly court you,”

Your heart beats and your steps falter. He chuckles at your reaction.

“And what of the Duchess?” You question when you’re able to breathe properly again.

Benedict rolls his eyes at your misplaced concern.

“Just another Lady unable to win over the Viscount so instead she turns her sights on the second son,” His eyebrows raise as he watches the worry drain from your body. “You were concerned? Darling, the whole time we were dancing I wished I were with you,”

“Oh, Benedict…” You’re breathless, jittery in his hands was your dreams come true before your eyes. “Yes. Yes Benedict, I wish to court you,”

The man before you smiles even wider, head dipping at your response.

“Now look who’s vermillion,”

The two of you chuckle as he turns an even brighter shade of red as you continue to dance like there was no one else present at Lady Danbury’s ball.

•

[kuroliondragon]

My Deceitful Love is for you p.1 (Twst!poly x Reader)

♥ Reader is in a polyamourous relationship with Leona, Riddle, Vil, Ace, Epel, Malleus and Lilia

You have lied about your true identity —being a powerful royal and being engaged to Malleus — from your other partners. You presented yourself as the adorable magicless Perfect of Ramshackle dorm, but now your identity is revealed and your partners are left in shock. Will they continue on loving you or this is the end of your relationship?

Warnings: angst, royalty au, poly, kidnapping, deceit

The room was dark, very dark, not a single speck of light could be seen. You blinked and blinked, trying to readjust your vision but you couldn't really see any difference; the room was filled with pure and silent darkness. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them one more time, in hope of at least to understand where you were, but nothing, still no vision or idea about what had happened to you. Deciding that you couldn't see, no matter how hard you tried, you took a different approach. You made an attempt to trace back your memory, before you had woken up in this dark place. Everything seemed to be a blurry, but you remembered that the last thing you did was probably visiting the Diasomnia dorm; you and Lilia were organizing a party for all of your partners. You were most definitely sure, being quite a while in the lounge chatting with Lilia, and you clearly remembered waving goodbye at the vice dorm leader as you exited the dorm through the mirror. But after that…nothing. What had happened to you?

Feeling a sudden pain rush in the back of your head, you raised an arm to hold your forehead, but you figured that you couldn't. In fact, you couldn't move none of your arms at all, as if they were restrained. Confusion clouded your mind and you decided to give a try to stand up, but you also couldn't. What on the great seven? What is going on?

Your questions were soon answered as you heard a sound ball of different kinds of voices closing near you. You turned your head left and right, hoping to find out were the voices were coming from but it sounded as if they were everywhere. All of a sudden a bad feeling overtook you and you felt the bottom of your stomach twisting. For a moment you felt like you were going to be sick, you hid your head close to your shoulder as you waited for the feeling to wear off.

"I am sure, every single one of you must be confused." The voices toned down as one particular voice cleared the path of your hearing senses. "I really do not wish to take up much of your time, but I feel you all should hear what I have to say."

Who was talking?

"Why should I care what a nobody like you has to say."

Leona?

"I hate to agree with the big cat, but my schedule is full as it is. I don't have time to play games with you."

Vil?

"Watch it, pretty queen-"

"Now, now! Can't we all get along?"

Lilia?

"Proves to be easer said than done, specially if you also have to look out for such a troublemaker as Ace.”

Riddle?

"Dorm head~ Don't be mean~ You know you love me too~"

Ace?

"No, I do not. I simply tolerate you, because of the Perfect. I much rather not spend anymore time with you than necessary."

"Does that mean the previous night with the Perfect and me at your room counts as necessary~?"

"WHAt!? TRAPPOLA!!"

"Why do you always fight, I will never understand."

Epel?

"I also do not. Child of a Man would be sad, if we didn't get along."

Mal?

"But Malleus, dear, do you not always fight with Leona?"

Silence. Ohh, Lilia…you just had to add your input, hadn’t you?

"You should try to be a little more friendly, like me; I get along just fine with everyone." Lilia giggled.

More silence. Was Mal upset?

"I don't remember asking you Lilia…"

Yep, he was definitely putting right now.

"Come to think of it, why are all gathered here?" Vil 's was first to voice his concern.

"Finally. You figured it out to…" Leona sounded annoyed.

"It is quite the peculiar gathering." Malleus's amusement was crystal clear.

"Yes, but it does seem very suspicious." Riddle seemed calmed down from Ace's teasing and have returned to more serious matters.

"You are right. Hey! You!"

No...Epel you know, if you act like that, Vil-

"Epel! Where are your manners?!"

Told you...

"Where were yours when you said it was a waste of time coming here?"

"Epel…I am warning you…" Vil 's rage was slowly surfacing.

Do not piss him off more than necessery!

"Alright, Alright. That would be enough!" The mysterious voice clapped their hands, getting the attention of everyone in the room once again. "As I said before I had gathered every single one of you here, because I have a special reveal for all of you~"

Wait, reveal?

"Is this some kind of joke?" Leona growled.

"It is not a joke, my dear lion, and you will see so yourself, in just…a few moments~!" The voice chirped happily.

"Why should we trust any of your words, we can't even see your face?" Riddle 's suspicion was growing by the second.

"You have no need to see my face." You swore you heard them smiling as they spoke. "But, do not worry, once you see my big reveal you will be thanking me~!"

"Is this about Child of a Man?"

"Ohhhh…hoho..ohhh. Seems like the great Malleus catches up very quickly~!" The onwer of the voice was surpised and amused at the same time. "Then again, you would know, wouldn't you, great Malleus?"

Malleus narrowed his eyes, "What is that exactly suppose to mean?"

"You will see~ Now, do tell how did you figured it out~?"

The Diasomnia dorm leader shared a gaze with Leona and then with Lilia. "I can feel her behind the stage…." His aura had suddely become very intimidating and somewhere in distance thunders were heard. "What. Have. You. Done. With. My. Child. Of. A. Man.?"

"Wait, Rose is here?" Riddle souded surprised and his greyish eyes intensely seached the stage, trying to catch a glimpse of you.

"I can smell them, too. Why is my Herbivore in distress? What did you do?" Leona’s growling sounded more and more animalistic.

"Distress? Is my Sweet Potato in danger?" Vil's eyes narrowed at the hooded figure.

Great...The overprotectiveness has kicked in... Dear Seven save us...

"Well if they are, then I am sure they know why~" You suddenly felt as if you were stared at. "Anyways~ Since you know they are here, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer~" The figure turned to face the stage. "Why, don't you say 'Hello', dear Perfect…." The curtains of the stage opened to unveil you sitting on a chair, your wrist restrained on the arms of the said furniture.

"Dear, are you alright?" Lilia's concerned voice sounded first.

You squinted your eyelids at the sudden source of light.

"Rose you…" Riddle's voice was slowly lost.

"Perfect…?" Ace and Epel souded unsure.

"My Sweet Potato... what they have done with you?" Vil's eyes were wide; he couldn't believe what was he looking at.

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do. To. My. Herbivore?" Leona's rage seemed to be matching Malleus's.

"Done?~ I haven't done anything! At least not yet~!"

Finally, reajusting your vision, you could see all of your partners gathers up in a semi circle and all looking quite uneasy. Your eyes wondered around the room, trying to find the source of their shock but you couldn't find anything. As you got a better look at them, you realized that they weren't looking at the room, they were looking at you. You still couldn’t understand what was going on not until Malleus spoke, "Child of Man…your disguise…"

"What?" You raised your head and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Rose…your eyes…they look different…" Riddle's mouth was opening and closing as if he was a fish in the shore.

"The eyes are the bare minimum, can you not see the horns?! The horns?!" Ace yelled, turning white from the panic.

"Oh dear…" Lilia closed his eyes and pursed his lips, this was not going to end good.

"It is not just the horns…You look like you also grown a few centimeters…" Epel was gapping in shock.

"And where did you find such expensive clothes?" Vil was uncertain but amazed nonetheless.

Realizing with a little help what Malleus had meant, you faced side-ways and gritted your teeth. "Shit."

The hooded figure began giggling in delight. "Well, I suppose we should do the introductions~"

"Please stop this…" Your voice was weak while you bit the inside of your cheek.

"Now, now, Perfect~ Should we not introduce the one and only…"

"Stop…" You warned, biting harder at your cheek.

"Powerful and charming~!"

"I beg you, please…" You felt as if you were about to cry, as you dug your nails in the inside of your palm.

"Intimidating but Regal~!"

"Don't…do.. This.." The horrible feeling from before, had returned and you didn’t know if you were going to cry or throw up first.

"(Y/N) (L/N)! Heir of one of the most powerful families in Twisted Wonderland! Future heir of the throne and soon to be engaged to the great and powerful, Malleus Draconia~~!!!"

You squinted your eyes shut. The dreadful feeling overwhelming you, mind and body.

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Being king to those who are emotionally, mentally and physically inferior to yourself is rather boring. Kamski had ruled the Goblin kingdom for centuries and was growing rather bored of the monotony, sure there were always humans to trick but even that was getting annoying. It was the same story everytime, someone grows tired of their life and wishes themselves away only to find themselves trapped in his labyrinth and after the 13 hours were up they'd beg and plead for him to have mercy, "please send me home!" "I have a family!" "I'll do anything!", they all fell on deaf years as he turned them into monsters. He supposed it was hypocritical to judge them for being bored when he feels like that as well, but what do kings care about hypocrisy.

Staring out the window he was perched beside Kamski summons a crystal ball to spy into the human world, perhaps he could find another human to play tricks on. Clicking his tongue in annoyance Kamski rolls his eyes at the scene before him, a stereotypical happy couple walking in a park, the king was so tired of watching happy people. Why should they get to be happy when he's destined to be alone, using his magic Kamski sends a gust of wind knocking the couple down. His smirk falls off his face when the woman looks up and he looks into her eyes. Immediately his chest tightens as he stares into them, he'd been alive for centuries and he could spend another century lost in your eyes.

From that day on Kamski often found himself watching you through the crystals, just mesmerized by everything you did. He couldn't figure it out by all accounts you were just another boring human woman but he just couldn't shake you from his thoughts. You not only plagued his thoughts but also his dreams, every morning he'd wake up aching to hold you in his arm, to feel your soft lips against his own, to have him be the center of your world. After two weeks Kamski decides to take matter into his own hands, going into the human world to finally be near you. At first he was elated to be so near you, all previous feelings of boredom long forgotten as he started to feel like a young man again. But soon enough all those positive feelings are replaced with jealousy and anger when your boyfriend shows up. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and plants a kiss on your cheek making you blush and smile, making Kamski feel sick. At first he had wondered why you would let such a lowly man touch you, but quickly realized that you just didn't know any better. It's not like you knew creatures like him even existed, but he was here to show you the way.

It took little planning to figure out how he was going to rip the two of you apart, he started planting the idea of cheating into your boyfriend's mind. Using his magic to whisper into his ear everytime an attractive woman walked past him. Even the Goblin King was surprised at how quickly your beloved fell into the trap, perhaps he had never been as committed as he said he was. It took even less time to get you to catch him in the act, all it took was a stolen phone and a fake date to get you to show up while your boyfriend was balls deep in another woman. You ran from the apartment completely broken hearted, tears streaming down your face.

Victory was so close Kamski could taste it as he watches you throw yourself onto your bed, with a little more magic he whispers into your ear "I wish something would take me away, right now" and like a sweet little girl you are you repeat it. In a flurry of lights and sound you are transported to the beginning of the labyrinth. It takes every ounce of restraint in Kamski to not push you against the wall and take you there, he needs to give you a "fair" chance at escaping. Appearing behind you he runs his fingertips over your shoulders to get your attention, smirking when he feels you jump under his hands. Giving you no time to process he explains that you have 13 hours to solve the labyrinth, if you solve it you get to go home, but if you don't you belong to him. He starts your clock and watches as you take off towards the entrance and for the first time in decades he feels more than boredom

[gryffindors-weasley]

Where We Belong

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Amongst all the lavish luxuries at his parents estate, there’s one place Draco feels he truly belongs.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of the war, brief mentions of alcohol, slight angst, fluff, kissing

The ballroom was decorated floor to ceiling in only the most expensive of luxuries, down to the very goblet in Draco’s hand, encrusted with crystals amongst pure gold. Malfoy events were never modest in the slightest, anything borderline simple would never suffice. A pianist sat in the far corner, though the instrument’s melody had traveled across the entirety of the grand room. He should know, he’s spent years dancing his fingers over the sleek ivory keys when his father wasn’t around to scold him for it. 

Dozens of conversations mingled in the space, ones he could only assume didn’t hold any true meaning. They were his parents acquaintances after all, they never had much more to talk about other than their estates and business dealings. He felt rather grateful he hadn’t been subjected to talk about such things, for he’d gone a different way with his life. One that was better suited for him. He doesn’t feel as though they’d be interested in the subject of healing sick and injured people with magic; if his father frowned upon his career choice surely they would too. But that wasn’t of importance to him now, not really, he had better things to concern himself with.

Perhaps the most enamoring part of this evening was you. Well, it was most definitely you. Granted, he’d wished that you weren’t as much of a socialite for just this evening, because he’d much rather be with you than stand along the same gray wall sipping his wine. He’d been doing that all night but still he settled for admiring you nonetheless, he could never tire of that.

You were singlehandedly the best thing to happen to him and he’d say that with absolute certainty. You knew him when he was a boy who made all the wrong choices, and you know him now as a man trying to make better of them as best he can. He felt he had many flaws for you to overlook, all of which you did in fact set aside because you couldn’t hold him to his mistakes forever. You’ve shown him love when he had none, and for that he was forever grateful.

You had been weaving in and out of clusters of forest green dresses and pristine black suits, attempting to hold a conversation as best you could. It was proving to be rather difficult because you didn’t revel in overly expensive mansions and finely manicured gardens; you reveled in your cozy cottage with imperfectly perfect flowerbeds and old wooden shelves crammed with worn books. So, you felt it best to keep it moving throughout the room in hopes someone would say something of interest. With the war having been concluded, there was no looming threat over your head to hide your relationship with the Malfoy heir, but a small part of you had still wanted be on good standing with everyone. However, it seemed as though your efforts may have been futile the more you spoke.

Narcissa adored you, and that was good enough for you.

Your eyes eventually landed on Draco’s in your periodic scan around the large room, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you sigh. You were tired of being social, you had done more than your fair share for the evening. He’d been eying you ever since you left his arms just short of an hour ago, it wasn’t hard to notice after all. After being discreet in his admiring all these years, he no longer cared about being obvious.

“Here I thought you’d abandoned me, love,” Draco says, feigning hurt as you take the goblet from his hand and set it down on a nearby table.

“Now why would I do that?” 

A smile was quick to grace his lips as he looked down at you, a chunk of his icy hair dipping into his eyes at the action. His mother had scolded him for ignoring her wishes on cutting his hair for this event, even just a trim or to simply slick it back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You liked it like that anyways.

“You look beautiful, you know,” he murmurs in your ear, dropping a sweet kiss just below it. A familiar heat began to burn in your cheeks as his lips ghost over your skin.

“I believe you’ve told me that quite a few times,” you smile, a laugh leaving your lips when he nipped the lobe of your ear in a playful response to your teasing. You quieted when it drew a few stares that were just as quickly averted.

“I mean it,” he sighs, his hands squeezing yours.

A deeper blush stains your cheeks and you will yourself to look away from him momentarily, the bout of jovial laughter ringing through the room giving the perfect excuse to do just that. Draco was growing tired of the bustling atmosphere, though he supposes he had been even since the two of you had arrived at the Manor. Elegant parties were no longer something he particularly enjoyed, only tolerable in small doses. He was tired of sharing your attention; he’d wanted you all to himself and didn’t find it in him to care if he was being selfish.

You turned back to him, the fondness of his gaze still very much there and you can’t help but lean on your toes and kiss him softly. The tender action seemed to have solidified his ideas, ones he’d pondered the entirety of the night and he found himself nodding towards the double doors without second thought. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth in a wordless agreement, and his hand is quick to envelop yours fully as he gives the room one final glance before tugging you along.

The halls were nearly vacant as you hurried through them with a practiced ease, his hand never leaving yours. Smiles were fought to be contained as you passed by a few staggered guests, sharing an adoring gaze as he tightened his grip on your hand. The only sounds to be heard were the giddy laughter leaving your lips, mingled with the fading commotion of the crowded ballroom and of course the clicking of your heels. The two of you disappeared around a corner, apparating to the only place you’d wanted to be that night, home.

—

The change of scenery was much needed, and very contrasting at that, your home far warmer and welcoming than the Manor could ever be. The scent of cinnamon and sugar was immediate upon walking through the door, a warm glow of miscellaneous lamps illuminating every room. Every shadow seemed far less mysterious and cold, the feeling of prying eyes within them no longer present. It was refreshingly quiet save for the pattering of the rain outside and the ticking of a few clocks, it was serene and it was home. No bad memories were housed here, and hostility was not welcome if you could help it. There had been enough sorrow and guilt in Draco’s not-so-distant past to last a lifetime or two, and he didn’t want it to tarnish your home. It was peaceful and it was shared with the love of your life.

“Are you ready, darling?” Draco calls out from the bottom of the stairs.

You appear at the very top with a smile on your face, Draco’s soon to follow as you made your way down the creaky wooden steps to him. It was tradition; after ever ball, every party, every fancy dinner at his parents estate—you would always come home to enjoy a night alone, away from elegant luxury, and away from the need to be proper. For an event like this in particular, it was always customary to share a dance.

Draco’s pristine black suit was discarded in favor of his plaid pajama pants, his hair a ruffled mess of platinum from apparating in the rain. Your silky gray dress had since been abandoned in a crumpled pile on the bedroom floor, his old quidditch sweater hanging comfortably from your shoulders in heaps of tattered deep green yarn. He hadn’t worn the thing since sixth year, but you had always taken a liking to it so he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

“I’d argue that you look even more handsome right now,” you state.

“And here I thought you liked my signature suit,” he scoffs in faux offense as you join him at the bottom of the stairs, a bright smile on your lips.

It was true, he was always dashing in his rather monochromatic suit, it was impossible for him not to be. But his current attire was much more preferred, he looked much more comfortable. Not so rough around the edges and intimidating, not that you ever considered him to be. He was rather soft under all those layers of defense and angered sorrow even if he didn’t want to admit it.

He offers you his hand in a playfully mocking attempt to be proper, leading you to the living room. It was lit with just about every single candle he could find, the varying scents not necessary mingling very well with one another but the effort was enough to outshine it. The fireplace melted away the nagging chill of the rainy evening, and a single flower was held in your direction. It’s ruffled pink petals dripped with raindrops when you take it, and you laugh softly at the sweetness of the gesture.

“Have you always been so romantic?” You jest, his eyes narrowing at you in a lighthearted glare as you smell the lingering floral smell.

“Only for you, my love,” he says with a soft smile, tugging you close. “Not a word of it to anyone else.”

You laugh at the words quietly spoken against your lips, though you’re quickly cut short when his own meld with yours, his hand settling on your flushed cheek tenderly. His soft sigh tickles against your skin and you couldn’t help the giggle it had elicited, the flower in your hand now fluttering to the floor as you wrap your arms around his neck. He continued his affections across your cheek and over your jaw, your smile never faltering. 

“Is something funny, darling?” 

Amusement laces his tone as his words muffle against your skin, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine and an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat at the single kiss pressed there. He knew that very fact quite well, taking great joy in the effect of such a simple action.

“Yes, actually, there is,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to stave off how flustered you were becoming.

He looks up to meet your gaze, his brow raising as the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Do enlighten me.”

“I believe the tradition is to dance with me, Draco, not kiss me,” you laugh softly.

His hand drops from your cheek and joins his other around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“This is the first moment I’ve got you all to myself, pardon me if I want to kiss you all night,” he quips, his smile fond as he looks at you. “Besides, traditions don’t always have to be set in stone, do they?”

You smile and he kisses you before you can argue his reasoning, though you don’t think you can find a plausible counter for it with the way his breath mingles with yours in the close proximity. He breaks from you too soon with another quick kiss, and you take the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. 

No music was needed as you swayed about the cozy living room, the candlelight flickering against the sage-colored walls. No music was ever needed when you found yourselves in your own little world as you so often do. A moment alone to dance with you in the privacy of your own home, in the comfort of your pajamas at that, was far better than some elaborate ballroom in ridiculously expensive clothing. It will always be better, for your company would always be enough for Draco no matter the circumstance.

A smile graces his lips as his cheek rests atop your head, and the platinum hair that poked in his eyes and tickled his nose was only a minor inconvenience not worthy of interrupting moment like this. He still wonders how he’d gotten so lucky as to steal your affections, and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t feel fortunate for it. You were wonderful, you were warm, you were radiant, and you were his.

He’d dance a thousand dances with you in this very living room, because this was where the two of you belong.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @lunalovecroft @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[mortalfaerie]

STRANDED IN TIME (M. F.) 1/?

matthew fairchild x lost herondale! reader

y/n herondale seems to get her just deserts when snooping in cirenworth's attic sends her back over 100 years.

You, Y/N Rook - no, Herondale - were having a no-good, very-bad, mind-numbingly-frustrating couple of months.

Dramatic? Maybe. But what else do you call it when your dad gets killed by demons in front of you, your newly orphaned little brother and you get told your nephilim, which you've been raised all your life to scorn, your new friend gets impaled by the reanimated corpse of her ancestor, and then gets turned into a perpetual ghost by your brother and his unrequited crush via necromancy which is, by the way, VERY VERY MAGICALLY ILLEGAL.

Oh, by the way, let's throw in that you can now see ghosts just to spice things up.

Now, you were slowly adjusting to life with your little brother and two victorian not-shadowhunters (but not not shadowhunters, either. It's confusing.) in their equally victorian manor in England. It felt a little like running away when your brother, Kit, told you that he wanted to take up Tessa and Jem on their offer, but hey, running is a Rook speciality.

Tessa and Jem were as hospitable as could be, but you still had a hard time seeing where you were as permanent. Jem directed you and Kit through training every morning, and seeing that you secretly enjoyed reading, Tessa made a habit of slipping a new book under your bedroom door every monday morning. She had a lovely (and very valuable) collection in Cirenworth's library, and amidst her and Kit playing "Read that book/Saw that movie," you had been picking up the slack for your brother and reading the books in question.

This week's book was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Perhaps, it was this book that had led you to go poking around in the attic of the manor, in search of some mystical object. There wasn’t much of note so far, save boxes of clothes from decades past, some photos, and a whole lot of dust. You were planning on going back downstairs when a specific box in the corner caught your eye.

It was a steam trunk, the kind that might have been used in past centuries for travel, but something about it drew you over, reaching for the bag identification against on its side.

“Thomas Lightwood, Cirenworth Hall, Devonshire.” The tag read - odd, in that the manor was a Carstairs family holding and had been for over two hundred years, and this trunk certainly didn’t look like it predated it. Unable to fight the curiosity, you tried the lock, finding it had rusted and came off with a snap. Inside, clothes, photographs, and relics of a nephilim life were neatly arranged inside, clearly by someone who cared for their preservation. Fumbling through, your hand made contact with a metallic object at the bottom of the trunk, and you drew it out to find a crystal that sent a shiver down your spine.

You had seen a crystal like this before. It was a memory crystal.

Normally, only a magic user would have been able to activate it, but both you and Kit had been able to activate the Blackthorn one, for reasons you didn't quite understand - something about having royal faerie blood - and so you tentatively turned it over in your hand. You jumped as the room grew dark and the crystal began to glow, projecting its memory on the wall. The crystal must have been damaged, since it skipped and faltered, it's nature distorted. Flashes of scenes jostled for attention - a ball, probably in the early 1900s, and a man with rich carmel skin and blond hair - a laboratory, and a pervasive feeling of panic - demons, heinously large. You struggled to make sense of it all as the crystal grew hot in your hands, like a computer overheating and burning. You abruptly dropped it in reaction, but as it hit the ground, the room went black.

Waking up, your head ached like you'd been concussed, and the sunlight made you begin to wonder if you'd fallen asleep in the gardens and had a strange dream. As you opened your eyes, you groaned with the sting the light caused. You tried to roll over, by found you were abruptly nauseous. Your body convulsed as you vomited your breakfast onto the grass beside you, then collapsing again.

From behind you came a high voice that struck a memory. "Oh, lord. Who are you?"

You squinted at the translucent girl hovering near you. "Jessamine?" you rasped, wondering why she was here.

"Yes, I am she. But who are you, and why are you... sick in my gardens?" she replied, circling you in the air.

"I- please, get help." you moaned, as another wave of nausea hit.

"Oh! Ack!" she cried, and fizzled out.

You desperately wished for Jessamine to swallow her sensibilities and get whoever was near, as you began to shake violently on the ground, abruptly cold and dizzy. A door opened nearby, and two sets of footsteps came rapidly to your crumpled form.

"By the angel..." A man muttered, and you heard Jessamine chime in, "I told you, she knows who I am, but I haven't the faintest clue who she is."

"Nevermind that now, Jessie," he said, by your side now. "She's marked, though I have no idea who she is either."

Another voice joined them, one that caused you to open your eyes and squint at the two looking down at you with worry. "Let's get her into the infirmary. We can call for Charlotte latter and determine her identity, but she looks grievously ill."

You coughed and whined, but managed a shaky question. "Tessa? Tessa, what's happening?"

Clearly, she wasn't expecting this question, and she exchanged a bewildered glance with the man she was with. You noticed for the first time that she wasn't dressed as she normally was - rather, she was wearing a long dress of cotton lawn with her hair twisted up.

"I'll carry her." The man said, and reached for you. Tessa nodded and helped to move you to a sitting position. You whined in pain, and she touched her hand to your forehead in a very motherly gesture.

"Will, she's burning up." was all you heard before the world went black again.

[oikawaplssteponme]

PREVIOUSLY • MASTERLIST

pairing: (prince) Sawamura Daichi x (princess) fem! reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k words

synopsis: A childhood lover, a perfect picture, a thoughtful risk, a dashing spark, a resurfaced fling, a beautiful mystery, and an unlikely charmer. With so many flowers in the garden, which do you pick?

a/n: hello loves! i hope you all are doing well :)) reminder that the taglist is still open, just send an ask or leave a comment to be added <3 id love to hear your thoughts and please reblog!! tags have been weird lately so id really appreciate the reblogs :) !

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ: ☾

Nervous

“Good morning Your Grace! Rise and shine!” Anita came bursting into your room. She opened up your bedroom curtains, revealing the burning sunshine. You grabbed one of your pillows and buried your head under it.

“Oh gosh what time is it…” you groaned.

“Time to start getting ready. I’ll have your breakfast brought in momentarily.” Anita left your room just as quickly as she entered it. You removed the pillow from your head and sat up.

“Oh good you’re up.” Your mother, the queen, entered your room, followed by Anita and your breakfast tray.

“Thank you.”

“Eat up sweetheart. You’ll need your energy for today!” said your mother.

“Why must the ball be so late today?” You asked, “and why have you woken me up so early…”

“It’s the Midnight Ball Y/N! It’s tradition whenever the kingdom of Karasuno comes to visit,” she explained. You nodded.

The Prince of Karasuno would be next on your agenda. You had heard nothing but nice things about him. He was known to be responsible, kind, level headed, everything a future king would need to be.

“Your gown for tonight is getting finished up at the tailor’s. I’ll be picking it up in about an hour or so,” explained Anita.

“I’ll join you,” you said as you took a sip from your tea. Your mother shook her head.

“You have much to prepare for here, darling. Anita can take care of it herself.”

“I’ll only be gone for an hour or two. I promise I’ll be back in time,” you insisted.

“Very well… I’ll make sure your ride is prepared.” Your mother patted the top of your head before leaving your room. You looked at Anita, sighing.

“I suppose this is how things will be for a while. A ball every week, a new dress to try on, and someone new to see.”

“You’ll certainly never be bored, Your Highness. I’ll set out your garments for this morning’s trip and meet you outside.” Anita flashed you a bright smile before heading over to your closet, picking out a simple, light pink dress. She laid it on the chair of your vanity before leaving.

You finished your breakfast and got yourself ready then went to meet Anita outside.

“Ready to go, Your Majesty?” she asked. You smiled.

“Anita you know you can call me Y/N, and yes.”

The ride into town was smooth. It was an exceptionally beautiful day, birds chirping, the sun shining. You waved to whoever you saw as people eagerly noticed your arrival.

You arrived at the tailors right on time. It was a dainty shop, filled with endless piles of fabric and designs to fuel anyone's imagination.

“Good morning Your Royal Highness! Here to pick up your gown for tonight’s ball?” asked Mari, the shop owner.

“The Princess is also in need of one final fitting before we can take the gown back to the castle with us,” explained Anita. Mari nodded.

“Yes yes of course! Right this way my darling!”

She led you and Anita to where the mannequin stood, wearing the dress.

“Wow…”

It was an extravagant gown, black as the midnight sky. The sunlight peeking in from the windows bounced off of the small crystals, making it sparkle. It lastly had a matching cape, since the ball would take place at night.

“Mari you never disappoint, it is truly gorgeous,” you said.

“Oh thank you Princess. Here, let's get you laced up.”

The dress fit you perfectly as expected. It’s sweetheart neckline and floral detail looked stunning on you. Mari packaged up your dress as you waited with Anita.

“We actually have one last stop before we can head back,” she explained.

“Where?” you asked. Anita smiled.

“It seems that your prince has a gift for you.”

You and Anita walked along the streets of town until reaching the flower shop. You breathed in the scents of gardenias and lilies.

“Pick up for Y/N L/N,” explained Anita to the front desk attendant. They scurried off to the back cooler and brought out the biggest arrangement of flowers you had ever seen.

“Oh wow…”

It was a mix of orange and black roses, with a small card peaking out.

‘Until tonight Princess… -D.S.’

“D.S.?” you questioned. Anita chuckled.

“It’s from Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.”

“He certainly knows how to make a girl smile,” you whispered.

“He’s perfect…” gushed Anita. You chuckled.

“We’ll see about that…”

~

As the day drew on, you found yourself back at home. You were finally getting ready for the ball, that started in just a few hours. You showered and wrapped yourself up in your silk robe. You walked into your room, where Anita was laying out your dress.

“Anita what do you know about Sawamura Daichi?” you asked. She chuckled nervously.

“Well I don’t know too much...but I know that he is a great leader with a kind heart. He puts others before himself and is devoted to helping others. Anyone would be lucky to have a heart like his.”

“It seems like you know more than you think,” you teased. Anita shook her head.

“Oh my apologies. Here, let's get you laced up.”

Anita cinched you up into your gown. She did your makeup and clipped on your cape.

“Stunning as always,” she smiled.

“Thank you. Shall we go?”

The garden was marvelously decorated with lights and lanterns. There was a grand fountain in the middle of it all, the floor a checkered pattern . The full moon shined above you, making the moonlight bounce off of your gown. You greeted people as they approached you, keeping one eye out for the Prince.

“Excuse me, You Grace?”

You turned around to see a man smiling at you with grey hair.

“Yes?”

“Princess Y/N L/N, I am pleased to introduce you to the marvelous, chivalrous, most handsome-”

“That’s enough Sugawara…”

“Oh right...Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.” He moved out of the way, allowing the prince to step forward.

“My apologies, he tends to get carried away,” smiled Daichi. You chuckled.

“I actually liked your introduction,” you teased.

“I’m glad. Would you care to dance?” Sawamura pointed to the dance floor. You nodded.

“I would love to.”

You took his hand and he guided you to the floor, He bowed before you, then placed his hand onto your waist and held up your other hand.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said. Daichi smiled.

“I’m glad they found you well. I wasn’t sure which flowers were your favorite so I decided to play it safe with roses.”

“I do love roses.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Not particularly. I love the assortment bouquets, that way I get a little of everything,” you explained.

“I see.”

Daichi spun you around the floor, keeping you close to you. His eyes almost as dark as the midnight sky, you could’ve fallen into them. As your hand rested on his bicep, you could tell just how strong he was. His strong build but gentle smile warmed your heart.

You watched as what looked to be a sweat droplet glided down the side of his forehead. You chuckled.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. Sawamura tilted his head.

“Nervous? What makes you say that?”

“It looks like you’re sweating.”

Daichi patted his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiled.

“That’s not sweat princess, that’s rain.”

The two of you looked up at the sky, seeing the clouds rolling over you. You closed your eyes, starting to feel the soft water trickle down upon you.

“Everyone inside!” shouted the king. People began to rush over to the doors, hiding under the walkway.

“Y/N, darling, you’re gonna get sick!” insisted your mother. As you soon became drenched by the rain, you looked to Daichi, who held onto your hand.

“I have a dance to finish,” you smiled. Daichi grinned, placing his hand back onto your waist and once again, guided you along the dance floor.

It was just the two of you, dazzling under the stormy moonlight. As lightning struck and thunder boomed, you kept your eyes on Sawamura. How he made you laugh, calling you reckless for proposing this idea. Even as the floor became even more slippery, you and Daichi didn’t stop. Soon, the orchestra came back, playing for you. Drums sounding along with the sound of thunder, causing goosebumps on your skin.

The two of you caught your breath, panting as water droplets dripped down your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping you balanced. Without realizing it, yours and Sawamura’s foreheads were pressed against each other. Daichi locked eyes with you, placing his hand under your chin.

“I think it’s safe to say that you took my breath away.”

~

The two of you went inside the palace a short time later. Anita brought you both towels to dry yourselves off.

You now sat with the prince on the grand staircase. The two of you talked about all kinds of things. He told you about Karasuno, you told him about what there was to do around your kingdom. He listened happily to every word you had to say.

“You’ll have to show me around soon, I didn’t get to explore much today,” he said. You nodded.

“I would love to do that.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness, we must be going.”

You looked over to the man who entered with the prince earlier. You sighed, almost wishing he didn't have to leave.

“Very well, just one moment please.”

Daichi stood up from the steps. He helped you up as well.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you Y/N. I wish we didn’t have to part so soon,” he smiled.

“As do I. I hope you have safe travels, and the next time you’re here I will happily show you around.” Daichi smiled.

“I would love that.”

He carefully took your hand, kissing the top of it. He took his soaked suit jack and draped it over his shoulder before joining Sugawara. You sighed.

“He really is perfect.”

•

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[dindooku]

ao3 - loulou1810

you hesitated, knowing there was no other way around this. he could just look you up on the holocomputer. your name would be top of the list. and he’ll, you were in a max prison security unit, so using petty crime wouldn’t cut it either.

you’d have to tell him, be honest. that’s the honourable thing to do, right?

tw - contains violence, suggestive themes and flashbacks of sexual assault/rape

word count: 5,040

____

His chair slowly turned to face you. The child was sat comfortably in his lap playing with a small silver ball, completely entranced by its chrome.

“Is that it?” He scoffed back with a slight hiccup of a laugh. “Me too, why’d they lock you up there? Bit overkill?”

“Yeah…” You drifted, wondering whether you should tell the truth. “I was captured about 2 years ago…” You start, gauging his reaction to see whether he actually wanted to know. He sat up and fixed his gaze to you, signalling that he was listening and for you to continue. You dropped your head, eyes now transfixed on the loose piece of thread you were wrapping around your fingers,

“Well, I was captured. I was originally what you could call a hit-man for the Republic. I’d worked for them consistently for around 8 years. They used me to hunt down and dispose of Ex-Empire politicians and War Lords, but one mission went south and I was drugged. I was then sold to a high-class underground fighting ring, they’d implanted some sort of control chip which meant they could stop me from lashing out or protesting. They could make me do whatever they wanted…” you paused.

This part of the memory was particularly painful. “They didn’t just use me for fighting,” There were so many hidden meanings and stories hidden there, stories you’ve hidden away and not even bared to think about yourself. They’re too painful, just thinking about it felt like daggers were being slowly pushed into your skull, “One customer had let their name loose during…” Your breath hitched, tears now pricking your eyes as the trauma replayed vividly in-front of your eyes, again and again. You close your eyes so that Mando can’t see how much this has affected you. “I committed the name to memory. During one fight I heard that name again. I saw them in the crowd and something in me just snapped, I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. As soon as I’d dealt with my opponent I sent a knife straight through his skull.” The memory was clear as day now and just as callous.

The extravagant curtains draped the room. Rows of black leather chairs lined the arena, circling around the central ring. The lights were dim, a subtle red stained the multicultural onlookers in a bloodied mood lighting. This was a highly prestigious place, only the highest-ranking officials and galactic influencers could witness this fight… this was obvious from the lavish guest attire. Some coated greedily in gold, others jewels and crystals. Normally you’d be dismayed by the lavish beauty of it all, but not today. You were fighting for your life against one of your more difficult opponents. They were at least 3 times your size, chiselled from pure warrior muscle, wielding a heavy battle-axe which was decorated with the bones of their previous wins. You’d given them a run for your money the whole fight, slowly chipping away at their ego with your double-edged Phrik knives. These were the only weapons you needed. Despite this, you weren’t yourself in this moment. Your targets unbeknownst to you were sat peacefully in the viewing box. Your thoughts were painful, the weight of the constant torture and manipulation had worn you thin, you were on your last tether. Despite the chip stopping you from resisting, your soul was ripping that connection from you with every punch, kick and slice. ‘This is your purpose, do it’ swirled your mind in a violent tempest. The words tortured you, controlling every cell in your body.

And then you heard it, their name. You glanced towards its direction. They were right there, in front of you, taunting you with their presence. ‘Complete the mission. Do what you have trained to do. Feed that temptation ’. You’d had enough. As if timed moved slower now, you slid under the belly of your opponent, grabbing their ankle you kicked yourself up, swinging onto their back. You planted a knife into the nape of their neck, twisting it to make sure. As they fell forwards you used the momentum to jump, launching your other knife over the barrier and into the viewing box.  It left your fingers before you could control it, before you could stop yourself. The next few seconds felt like a lifetime that day. The confused agony not leaving their face until you’d dropped to of view. You’d watched their face as they realised what had happened. The synthetic mind that had been forced into you left the moment the knife did, and the weight of that kill latched onto your soul.

“The synthetic consciousness left with the knife. What I didn’t know is that they were a high ranking Republican political official, and you can piece the puzzle from there. That was that. It was over for me”

You could feel his rage. This had angered him more than you.  You didn’t dare say a thing. You fiddled harder with the fabric in your fingers now, the anxiety was suffocating you and you didn’t know what to do.  You knew that what the officer did to you was wrong, illegal. But the way you’d been treated afterwards was what stung. You were the dirty criminal, they were a war hero. It didn’t take long for them to convince you that you were crazy, that you were a psychopath.

This guilt would carry you to the grave, maybe even push you in.

“If it wasn’t your choi-… if it was synthetic, why’d they lock you up? You were kidnapped and manipulated.” The question fair, and exactly the same question that had eaten away at you ever since they sentenced you. You were taken, held hostage, abused and tortured. Your body became a toy, something for them to release their anger and lustful cravings on. The pain they slowly incited within you only made things easier for them, more enjoyable, they fed off your hate. You tried to cut your emotions, but what they did to you was unforgivable, sadistic. They used your emotions against you, like Lori said would happen. By the time their use for you came around you were an empty shell, stripped bare. They implanted you, and with the flip of a switch, you were their puppet.

“My kidnappers implanted a chip into my brain. They could control me when they wanted, on and off like a droid. It was an old hijacked Clone Wars tech. They only had one use for me, making money. Once I’d done their bidding for them, they’d turn it off. After the incident though, they destroyed the switch along with the evidence. I was classed as insane. The Republic arrested me and took me in. That's how I ended up in the transporter. I was Disposable”

The last word rang your ears, it was driven into you from the start. No one had any attachments to you, no one. You were nothing. A credit without currency. An object.

The sigh that left your body felt like it took the last remaining pieces of your soul. Your tears relenting now, a nervous response to the rehashed trauma. You’d thought about it until your mind was raw. No matter how hard you reasoned with your conscience, you couldn’t shake the guilt. It was your fault, you knew it. You wished that you hadn’t thrown that knife, that you’d had more self-control and restraint. Deep down though, there was no other reason, you killed them, no one else. You, you’re the sick psycho.

“So they can’t control you anymore?” It was low, quiet. You knew he was trying to understand how it all worked, it was confusing even to you, and you weren’t the best at explaining things either.

“I don’t think so, they said they’d destroyed the controller,” You told yourself that they couldn’t control you like they did then, not anymore. But you couldn’t deny the power they still held over you. The way they’d manipulated, engraved their domination into you meant that you’d do anything they’d say out of fear. They were the only people you feared. You couldn’t face that pain again, and you knew resisting would only lead to torture. Out here in this ship, flying through hyperspace… they had no grip here, you were away from them, free.

He seemed uneasy, and you thought it was because he suspected that you could just turn on him at the flick of a switch. You were sure that they’d destroyed it. They’d not used it since…

“Would you like a job?” Out of everything you thought that he was going to say, you really could not have ever thought he’d be asking to employ you. You darted your eyes up, the confusion on your face was almost painful. Completely speechless. He elaborated, “I need someone to look after the Kid” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d just told this guy that you were a top-ranking assassin and now he wants to employ you as his babysitter?

“Are you having a laugh?” Is all you could say, chuckling as the words left your mouth. You’d never dealt with kids. You had no idea what you were doing. Mando seemed to be doing fine, why did he need you?

“Why, what makes you think that?” He sounds confused now. He shifts his head back a bit, his back straightening. He really did not know why this was all so confusing…

“You want me…me?” you point to your chest, emphasising your concern “of all people, you want me to look after the Child? Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“Yeah. You’re overqualified. Exactly what I’m looking for.” Right, this is odd. You pinch yourself, are you really awake. Have you somehow died or is this some messed up dream?

“I don’t understand?” You curt back, arms now folded in an aggressive manner. You weren’t up for being played around.

“I need someone who can protect the Child, you said you were trained and that’s obvious, I saw the way you moved from me in the cell, how you came away unscathed from Xian” He was right. You started to see what he was getting at, and despite agreeing that you could quite comfortably be the Childs personal bodyguard, you couldn’t deny the fact you had no idea how to look after a Child in the first place.

“I have no idea how to look after a Child…”

“Neither do I, we can figure it out together” He looked down to check on the kid. He was in a whole other galaxy, completely amiss to the tense situation happening just in front of him, the chrome ball his only concern. Mando’s gaze held for a moment, you assumed to weigh up all the possibilities of what he was offering. He turned back to you.

“You can call me Mando” And with that, he left the cockpit to put his weapons away in the main hull. You glanced at the child’s beaming toothy grin as he was carried away. You were frozen. That was it. You’d just bagged yourself a job.

___

He watched you, eyes bearing into your back as you assessed what was now going to be your new home…if you could even call it that. He handed you a small bag of clothes, some black long sleeve t-shirt’s that were way too big for you, some trousers and toiletries. The gesture was appreciated. You placed it down next to the metal slab of a pull-out bed… Damn, it is what is. You scold yourself, you’ve never had luxury, why do you expect it now? Maybe the promise of freedom was sweeter than it actually was. He nods for you to follow him out of the room.

He shows you the fresher, which is small but practical. Next, the carbonite freezer, explaining briefly that this is where his bounties go. Then, he pointed to his cabin, making it explicitly clear not to enter or open it unless he says so, even in emergencies. You thought it was odd but then it clicked as to why, and so you let the question die before it surfaced.

You’ve heard the stories of Mandalorian’s, how they’re the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You’d read books about the battles, the power that ran through their blood. Through your job, you’d come across a few who posed as Mandalorian's but were never real. They wore the armour for protection and style, never out of honour. But with the way this guy acted, spoke and had some sort of attachment issues to his armour… you sussed he was the real deal. Xian even said the doesn’t take it off during…stop.

_____

A few days had passed now and Mando was getting more and more agitated. You’d stopped off at a small spaceport on a remote planet to gather more supplies and fuel.  

You walked together through the market. He’d given you a small bag of credits so that you could get some spare clothes, toiletries and anything else you’d need for your stay on the Razor Crest. It wasn’t much but was enough to tide you over. You couldn’t complain, you had no money so it was better than nothing. You made sure to say thanks as you walked out the ship, following just behind him.

The market was a bit overwhelming at first, but once you’d realised that no one was out to get you you settled down. Mando walked in front, the Kid sat up in his pod, watching the people go about their lives. You noticed that people were making extra effort to stay out of his way, turning to whisper to others as you passed. He stuck out like a sore thumb wearing all that armour, but he didn’t seem to care. It certainly made traversing the busy streets a lot easier. You also found that you got things for a lot cheaper too, he’d stand just over your shoulder each time you went to a stall. The owner would give you the biggest smile whilst simultaneously trying not to anger the armoured chrome bucket behind you.

You found one stall that sold a bazaar range of things, from cutlery to footwear. But what caught your eye was the small Orback toy sat over in the far corner. It was perfect for the kid, it’d keep him distracted and it meant that Mando might get the silver chrome ball back. You asked for the price, not bothering to haggle the shopkeeper. Once you’d paid for it he handed it over and you placed it straight into the Childs hands. He looked it over for a second, confused at what you were giving him. He soon realised and the noise he made melted your heart, he was ecstatic. Waving it around in the air you grabbed the silver ball and handed it to Mando. He nodded at you, then glanced at the now screaming child who was what looked like laying down the law to his new friend.

After a while, the distance between you and Mando got closer and closer until there came a point where your arms were practically nudging one-another with each stride. You didn’t mind the contact, it was nice actually. Even in the busy streets, you felt like the only one there, his presence looming and protective. As the streets got busier you started to get antsy, you’re now scanning for possible threats. You didn’t want to slip up on your first day on the job, first impressions count. Mando could sense your tension and tried to soothe you by resting a hand onto the small of your back as you were walking. It brought your attention away from the dark alleyway and the rooftops and right into his touch. It paid off and you were instantly calmer. You said thanks through a small smile, which still hadn’t left your face whilst you were packing your stuff away back on the ship.

“We have to go somewhere, to pick up someone. I know you’re skilled in fighting, more than many I’ve seen” The compliment lands short as he continues, “The Child has a bounty and he isn’t safe until we take out the root cause. I'm going to need your help with this, is that ok?”

“Yes… for the Child, anything” He stared at you for a second. You guessed it was so he could read your face, ensure that you were ok with what he was asking of you. If it meant that the Child would be safe, then you’d do it. You know it was now your job, but over the few days you’ve been part of his crew, the Child has grown on you, incredibly. He’s already taught you so much, things you never thought you’d learn, and you’re grateful to the Child for that. Even though he can’t talk, he still finds ways to communicate warmth and hope. You don’t like to admit it but he is growing on you…a lot. He nodded and then left for the cockpit, firing up the engines and directing the ship out of the port. You turned away, walking back to your room.

__________

You wake screaming, the torture of your nightmare gripping your neck vindictively, suffocating you, dragging you into the depths of your mind that you never want to re-visit. You’re screaming but its broken, bloodied, hurt. You’re sat upright now, gripping your neck as you find release, the door to your cabin swinging open. He rushes in, quickly scanning the room for the cause, only to set his eyes on you and realise the root of the problem. He slows, just a small space between the both of you now, his helm still checking to ensure there’s no physical harm causing your pain.

You struggle to catch your breath, still clutching at your throat. The dried tears coating your cheeks, your eyes glint off of the ships dimmed lights. The extend of your struggle was shown in the reflection of his Beskar suit, the physical strain pertinent around your neck, the grip you’d been holding was enough to kill.

You were still struggling to breathe but were completely conscious now. Mando reached out a hand to your shoulder, trying to soothe you, “Breathe” He looks again to triple check the child isn’t doing any crazy magic as he had woken in a fit of tears too.

You quickly turn to look at him, your breathing still hoarse. The physical contact cutting through your mind and bringing you to now. Your eyes search for his. The black visor stared back. It’s probably good that you can’t see his face, as its currently slightly torn at the physical wound you’d inflicted to yourself in your sleep. His eyes scan the rest of your body, gazing at your arms which are now bare, the sleeves of the black-top he had given you were now rolled up. They’re riddled with scars of different shapes and sizes, but obvious. He glanced to your neck again, the edges of some pointed out from under the neck of the tee, some raised, some etched, some burned.

“Sorry for startling you…I…” The embarrassment starting to set in now you’ve absorbed the situation.

“The Child woke in tears too, and then I heard you screaming. Cara’s looking after him now”.

You furrow your brows at the new information. The Child too? Was he connected to your dream somehow? Or did the feeling transfer… you wouldn’t know, just acknowledging the connection and leaving it at that.

“Yeah… I was confused too…” he’d noticed the coincidence too, “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. You should start getting ready soon.”

All this information was starting to rack your brain, the sleepy haze in your mind making it difficult to focus. Then you remembered.

The last week had been a blur. You’d picked up some reinforcements for the mission. First, an ex-shock trooper who went by the name Cara, the tattoo was one of the first things you noticed. She wore it proudly. Cara seemed nice enough even though Mando had told her your backstory, she understood. Her eyes had seen the horror of manipulation too. She knew pain, death. You doubt she’d excuse what you did, but it seemed as though she’d done her fair share and maybe call it even. You’d made small conversation with her and it seemed that you could trust her, you hoped that she’d trust you too.

And then Kuill, now he was sweet. A kind, older Ugnuaght who had served the Empire. He’d done his time. Like you, he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do. The similarity between you two was silently acknowledged, he knew your pain, wanting to fight back but not being able to. He always spoke to you with soft words. You remember his admission with clarity. A day or so after picking him and his Bluurgs up, Mando and Cara were discussing the plan in the cockpit. You were sat in the corner of the hull, entertaining the Child, rolling the chrome ball back and forth along the floor. Kuill strolled up to you, holding your shoulder, bringing your attention from the Child to him.

“I too know the pain of Capitulation. I served my time, and now I work for no one. My soul is free. You are changed now, your punishment dealt. Make good of your life now it is yours. I have spoken.”

You didn’t know what to say but you knew that was exactly what you needed to hear. You’d never had kinder words spoken. It was bittersweet, but a lifeline nonetheless.

“I don’t know exactly how things will turn out so it’s probably best we prepare for anything” he admits, fear hidden in the admission somewhere. “I have asked Kuill to look after the Child along with IG. You’ll come with me and Cara to sort the problem. To finish this.”

Your head turns to the small Ugnaught now standing in the doorway, Cara to his side holding the Child. You nod politely to them, slightly embarrassed at how they were seeing you. The Child coos, his arms outstretched to his Dad. Cara walks into your room to give Mando the child, he coos again, this time more assertive. Cara tries to hand him over to Mando but he’s blubbering louder now, his arms are now outstretched to you. You sit up properly at the realisation. Mando nods to Cara, giving her silent permission to hand the Child to you. They both watch as you and the Child babble, his hand grabbing around your finger.

The connection warms you. He’s telling you through the only way he knows how that he’s ok, and that you should be too. He exudes calmness, soothing your mind to level with his. You smile at him, silently thanking him for his unique comfort. He nods back with a coo, head-turning towards Mando. He looks back at you with a toothy grin, releasing your finger then making grabby gestures to Mando. You smile to yourself as you watch Mando pick up the Child and leave, resting him in his right arm. Mando’s head was tilted towards the Child as if to ask what all the fuss was about. Cara watches them leave then turns to you.

“Hey,” She says calmly, sitting to perch on the side of your bed.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I didn’t mean to-” She cuts you off.

“Don't apologise, it’s ok, we all have bad dreams sometimes” She sports a small smile, letting you know she understands. You smile back. It’s nice to have another girl on the ship, you feel like you can open up to Cara a bit more than you can with Mando. You maintain the small smile, showing your sincerity. “The kid seems to really like you” She chuckles, showing a couple of teeth. She’s right, you both got along really well. You’d not known the Child for long but you were already smitten, the toothy grin got you every time.

“Thank you, Cara.” You don’t know what else to say. The simple reply is soft, thanking. You really did appreciate her care.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one that can make that little womp-rat smile. I’ve tried and he just… anyway. We’re not far out now. You should get ready”

You both exchange a small smile, it's sweet. You know you can trust Cara now.

___

The doors to the weapons locker opened and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping in awe. There was enough to form a small army! Does this guy have a thing for weapons or what? He reaches out and grabs a blaster. It’s exquisitely crafted, the mahogany wood polished to within an inch of its life. Once securing it in his belt, he reaches out again, grabbing two leather sheaths. Turning, he hands them to you. You put them on, one of them sits on your right thigh, the other sits just under your binder and rests under your shirt. You look up at him, his visor pinning you in place.

“I took you as a knives person” He deadpans, handing you two combat knives. Yeah, true, he’d read you like a book. You loved close combat, the thrill of it was always your favourite. You hated your past but you did have to admit, you enjoyed the hunt, it felt like fighting was what you were made to do. You drop your gaze to the knives. They’re pleasing to the eye. You’d not seen anything like it, the metal had waves to it, like an ocean. You traced a finger up one end of the blade, the sharpness of them tantalising, “Beskar” he chimes. Goosebumps riddled you like a rash, you couldn’t hide the grin that found your face. You’d not had a nice pair of knives since you were taken, hostage. Looking back up to him you thank him, placing one in the thigh holster and the other in the holster on your chest. You felt more confident now, adrenaline starting to prickle your senses; your body was starting to prepare itself for what was to come.

He reaches in again, grabbing a small belt. It was rough and tatty, this must be an older belt he’d once used, the one he wore now was a lot sturdier and more practical. Turning back to you he hands it over. You hear a slight scraping sound, like metal on metal. Inspecting one of the two pouches attached to it you found it was full of little throwing knives. They weren’t the same material as the daggers he’d just given you, but still sharp nonetheless. The grin feverish once you’d placed the belt around your waist, it hung lower than you’d like but it was still practical. You tested the buckle to see if it’d release quickly, and to your amusement, it did. You look back up at Mando, grin now toothy like the kids. “Thanks, hopefully, I won’t have to use them”

“Don’t lie, we all know you want to,” he said jokingly. So he finds it funny now? His comment makes you glance down. He was right, you were looking forward to it. Guilt floods your cheeks and you blush, now coming to terms with how you’d been acting. You didn’t want them to think you wanted to fight. This mission needed to go as smoothly as possible, for the Kids sake. Now they just think you’re in it for the blood, great.

“I didn’t mean it like that…I…” He stutters on his words, now realising the meaning behind what he said.

“It’s ok, I get it” you mumble back, turning away to get your boots from your room. You don’t notice him turning his head back around, watching as you walk back into your cabin.

___

Trust Cara to be carrying the biggest blaster from the locker. She’s all muscle that girl, and she knew it too. A blaster that size would look stupid if you tried to use it, you’re not even sure you could even lift it. Cara made it look like it was second nature, each to their own.

“Let me do the talking,” says Mando. Him? Do the talking? Is he having a laugh? The guy can barely hold a conversation, and now he thinks he’s some negotiating mastermind. You let it slide though, he is a Mandalorian at the end of the day, the armour does most of the talking for him. “Kuill, are the Bluurgs ready?”

“Yes. Someone will have to walk, I only have three” he says back to Mando, back turned as he’s fixing the final bits of equipment to the Bluurgs.

“I’ll walk,” you say, you’re the odd one out at the end of the day. You want to make a good impression, and you thought that a decent walk wouldn’t do you harm. You’ve not had a chance to properly stretch your legs in too long.

“You sure? It’s a fair way?” Cara asks back, she’s genuine.

“Yeah, I need to stretch my legs, let me lend a favour” you smile back. You really did want them to trust you, and you thought this is the least you can do to show your appreciation for their kindness over the last few days.

“If you get tired then you tell me,” Mando commands. There's no room for if’s or but’s, he means it.

You pull a sneaky grin, the temptation to say it was just too much, you can give in this once, right? You pick your next words very carefully but use the most seductive tone you could. It's just a bit of fun…

“Yes, Sir”

Cara chokes out a shocked laugh. You turn to her, she’s pulling her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. I'm glad that landed well… You laugh back as you both follow Kuill out of the ship to the Bluurgs, her elbow nudging your arm in a jokey way. You both continue giggling, not noticing the now slightly flustered Mandalorian.

Notes:

Hope u guys enjoy this chapter! the next couple chapters are quite action-driven as they follow the original arc, but I'm a few chapters ahead and let me tell you... is it getting hot in here?;)

[kyber-crystal]

Back To You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.3k

Summary: In which he realizes he’s been chasing after the wrong girl all this time, and finally realizes who he’s really meant to be with in the end.

Warnings: angst, fluff ending lol

A/N: this is one of my older oneshots published on wattpad and I was too lazy to edit before publishing this, so I apologize for the shit writing loolll

"Peggy?"

"Steve? Is that really you?" Her jaw almost dropped to the ground in shock as she blinked several times, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Yeah," the super soldier chuckles, quickly embracing her and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, "It's me."

"But how is it possible? I thought you were dead...that you wouldn't be able to come back..."

"We did it. We took down Thanos and his army, and the stones granted me the ability to time travel," he explained, "I knew I had to check on you to see if you were okay."

"I'm just glad you're back," Peggy mumbled into his chest as his arms wrapped around her tightly. "I'm so glad you're back."

But as time passed, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He should be happy that he was finally with with the one woman who he thought he'd never see again, but something felt off. Why didn't it feel right?

If anything, he should've been as overwhelmed with joy as he was in the beginning compared to now, but he wasn’t.

He tried his hardest to ignore the one answer stuck in the back of his head and attempts to instead, focus on Peggy who's catching him up on what happened while he was gone over dinner.

"Steve? Are you alright?" she tilted her head to the side slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No, I'm okay," he shook his head, "don't worry."

"Something's bothering you..." she pointed out as she took a sip of her coffee, "what is it? You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't," Steve exhaled, "it wouldn't do you any good."

"...It's about those you left behind, isn't it?" she guessed. "Your team...and Y/N, specifically..."

His silence was all Peggy needed to confirm the answer to her question.

"I know," she spoke softly, causing him to look up from his plate in surprise. "I've known all along."

"How did you..."

"I can tell by the look in your eyes. You still love her, and regret leaving her," she stated, "you wish to go back."

"I'm sorry-" he began.

"There's no need to be sorry," she reassured him, placing a hand on top of his, "it's okay. I'd rather have you be happy with the one you love the most instead of living out the rest of your life in guilt and regret. You can stay another night and get some rest, and leave tomorrow if you'd like."

"Thank you," he murmured.

The next day came and went, and after an exchange of goodbyes Steve was back with the Time Stone gripped in his hand, traveling back to the future that you were left behind in.

...

Six months have passed since he left.

Six months have passed since he broke your heart and left without an explanation.

Six months have passed since he went back in time to go be with Peggy Carter, and you were broken.

During that time, none of the team knew what they could possibly do to help and for once, even Sam and Bucky don't have any sarcastic comments to throw at you. Tony doesn't know what to do, either. Seeing the woman he'd mentored for so long fall to pieces over one man makes him wonder if there's something he didn't teach you correctly, if him not teaching you how not to let yourself go stir-crazy over almost losing the love of your life was the best idea or not.

He wonders if you'd felt this way all this time, but then he confirms that you did when he looks back to all the times you'd spent together and realized you had. And it was too late now, because he'd left. Gone without a trace.

You're all spending the weekend at Tony's cabin in the woods. While Clint, Natasha, Bucky, Peter and Pietro are roped into a tea party with Morgan and all her stuffed animals, you simply stood by the lake and stared blankly ahead at the view, wishing for him to come back; though you knew the chances of that happening weren't too high. For some reason, though, you refused to give up hope - you were in denial.

But a sudden whirring noise coming from the time machine makes everyone stop what they're doing. Your heart practically stops when you see an all-too familiar, broad-shouldered and muscular figure you thought you'd never see again step down from the platform.

"Cap?"

"Steve?"

"What are you doing here?"

The shock is evident in everyone else's expressions as they all gather around to welcome him back with warm greetings, but this quickly dies down when they notice the downcast look painted on his face as he clutches the green Time Stone in his hand.

"You left," you stated bitterly. "And now you decide to show up, all of a sudden? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

Steve makes his way towards you and you look down, refusing to meet his piercing gaze which you know will have your heart racing within seconds. He tries to take your hands in his but you quickly push them away, swallowing hard as you struggled to hold your tears back.

"Y/N, come on, look at me," he pleaded. "I'm sorry."

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head wildly, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. Your throat feels tight and constricted when you finally decide to look up at his crystal-clear blue eyes, those same eyes that had made contact with yours so many times over the years since you'd first joined the initiative. Those eyes that would never fail to make your heart skip a beat, no matter what happened.

Suddenly you can't breathe, the act of taking a simple breath growing more and more difficult by the second, the act of holding yourself back from breaking down into heaving sobs growing increasingly impossible.

"Why? Why did you have to leave me hanging like that? It's hard enough pretending to be friends with someone I'm so in love with, because every time I look at that person, all I see is everything I want to have," you choked out, "You left, Steve. You left without any explanation as to why the hell you were going back. And you're expecting me to forgive you that easily?"

"I made a mistake," he admitted with a pained expression on his face, "I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn't. I thought I was doing the right thing by following my head, but I wasn't listening to my heart, that told me I was and always would be, in love with you."

"If you really cared, then you never would've left in the first place. She was your first choice, Steve, not me. If you really cared, it would've been the other way around. I thought maybe, you'd be the first one to ever care about me so deeply, but I guess I was wrong...and now I know how it feels to have someone else prioritized over you."

"Don't do this to me, Y/N," his voice cracks toward the end of his sentence, and the fact that you almost feel guilty for causing him to feel this way makes you sick to your stomach. "I love you. I made a mistake. I should've stayed instead of leaving you behind-"

"You broke my heart, Steve," your voice came out in barely a whisper, "I trusted you with everything I had, and you broke my heart. How am I supposed to forgive you now?"

"It was hard for me, too," he replied as a single tear slipped down his cheek and balled his hands into fists, "it was so damn hard, because at first I thought she was my everything and it broke me when I heard the news of her passing. I thought she was the one for me, and to get over her I had to keep reminding myself that she had been able to move on without lingering in her feelings, so there shouldn't be a reason why I can't do the same. She went on to have a family; a loving husband, children, and grandchildren...if we really were meant to be, I wouldn't have ended up where I am now, fighting alongside this team after being frozen for 70 years, and she wouldn't be old and on the verge of death when we reunited later on.

"It's true that she was the first girl I'd had it bad for, but I don't think I truly loved her. I didn't get to know her well enough before I went into the ice, and I think that's what sets things apart. I was too busy thinking about what could've been instead of what things were like now to know that truly loving someone means you went through hell and back together and stayed together no matter the circumstances, but that wasn't the case for her as the time we spent was cut short. It took me a long time to come to my senses and realize who I really needed in my life, and that I wasn't in love with her, but with you. The one who I was meant to be with was standing right in front of me, and I almost failed to realize that. I couldn't bring myself to stay when I was - and still am - hopelessly in love with you."

"Give me one reason," you whispered hoarsely, "give me one reason why I should believe you. Give me one reason why I shouldn't be doubtful of you leaving me again. Give me one reason why I shouldn't believe that you're going to hurt me."

Taking you completely by surprise, he leans down and kisses you in response, the feeling of his soft and warm lips against your own making you break down every wall you had built up in defense specifically to protect yourself from him. You then seem to completely forget about what's going on around you and in this instant, nothing matters. The aching in your chest doesn't matter. The way you feel as if you're going to fall apart and tear at the seams doesn't matter. The way your mind is screaming at you to stop and pull away because he's gonna break your heart again doesn't matter.

All that matters now is that you're kissing him, the Steve Rogers, his lips that are so insanely soft and tender they should be illegal in the first place. But you're too busy wrapped up in the blissful, electric feeling of how alive he makes you feel despite the fact that you felt like drowning in your heartache and pain. You're too busy reacting, your arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him closer to you, to realize that mere moments ago you were wishing you could feel anything other than romantic feelings for him.

As he pulls back, he reaches a hand out to your face and gently wipes the stray tears that had escaped away with his thumb, and it takes you every fibre of your being not to break down right then and there because you hated how much you cared but loved it at the same time. The more he lets his hand linger against your cheek, the more he holds you in his arms, he finds himself wanting to do this more, wanting to hold you longer and care for you and love you until the end of his days and that's when he realizes it. He's so in love, more than he'd ever been with anyone in his entire life and he doesn't want to let that go.

"Stop it," you mumbled, attempting to push yourself away from him but somehow ending up with your hands pressed against his chest as he tugged you back towards him again, his strong arms firmly snaking around your waist, "you're making me dizzy."

"I can't lose you again. Don't leave," he mumbled into your hair.. "I'm not going to lose you, because I already came far too close to that happening."

You made a sound sort of resembling a strangled sob and hold him as tightly as you could because you feared if you let go, he'd slip away from you again. And he rubs your back gently as your body shook with sobs that clawed their way up your throat and heart, whispering soothing words in your ear as he himself tries to hold back what feels like a seemingly endless flow of tears trapped behind his eyes.

At some point the tears stopped flowing and you just stood there in his embrace. Everyone had  fallen silent by now and were simply watching the interaction between the two of you, practically biting their nails with anxiety at witnessing the rocky reunion.

You tilt your chin up slightly and your gaze subconsciously flickers down to Steve's lips, and he takes this as a sign to pull you in and press his lips to yours a second time.

It's more gentle this time, his lips brushing over yours for a brief second until you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back in again.

You don't know when you finally break apart, or how much time has passed when you do, but judging by the softened looks on everyone's faces it had been a while.

"Daddy, why did Captain America just kiss Auntie Y/N?" a little voice piped up.

"Because they love each other, honey," Tony replied, ruffling his daughter's hair.

Morgan giggled. "I knew it!"

"Tell me you forgive me," he spoke softly, "tell me that I didn't come back for nothing."

You let out a shuddering sigh and rested your head against his broad chest, gripping the fabric of his suit into your fists. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You won't lose me again."

"So...is this the part where we're supposed to clap? Or cry? Honestly, I feel like doing both right now. This is cute."

"Shut up, Quill," Rocket kicked the Ravager man in the shins. "Let them be."

"What?" Quill held his hands up in defense, looking around at everyone's now amused faces. "You all know you're thinking the same exact thing."

[achildlikeprincess]

♡ The Halloween Dollhouse  ♡ 

Above in the Halloween evening air, raindrops gathered and waited to fall upon the trick-or-treaters below. The old trees lining the neighborhood sang darkly of autumn richness. Glazed, golden leaves fluttered down with the chilly wind, lining the damp sidewalk like magic stepping stones. Minnie and her friends, dressed as a gaggle of witches in unearthly frayed and glittering black rags, were dashing between the houses as fast as they could before the first raindrop fell. 

"Hurry! We've got to get all the candy we can!" Penny shouted. She rang the next doorbell seven times, hopping up and down in her pointy black slippers. "Penny! Don't be rude! Oh, I can't believe it's going to rain on Halloween," sighed Daisy. "Oh my! What a scary group of witches! I hope you won't melt when the rain falls," the old man who answered the door chuckled, giving them each a chocolate bar just as the sky above shattered and began to pour. "Better hurry back!" "Thank you sir! We'll be okay!" Minnie called, and the girls took off running. They were headed to Minnie's, looking for her Jack-O-Lantern carved with a glowing bow through the downpour. Thunder boomed in their ears and the darkness seemed ever blacker as the wind made the ribbons of their hats shudder. Five little witches suddenly saw the sky flash with lovely yet dangerous silver lightning. Rain whispered across their faces and smeared the eerie green makeup into dripping tears. But the warmth of Minnie's house was waiting, and soon they were crowded into the bathroom giggling, washing away the green paint and changing into pajamas, popcorn heating in the microwave and a scary movie playing on television. "We didn't even get enough candy!" Penny grumbled, emptying her plastic purple pumpkin and counting only a few chocolate bars and boxes of fruit snacks. "Did...did worms just come out of their masks?!" Lilly squeaked, hiding her face in a pillow. "I'm going to be sick!"  Daisy reached for the remote, but before she could turn the channel the sky erupted with thunder, making the little house tremble. It was the loudest thunder crack they had ever heard, and the lightning strike that followed left them in complete darkness. "Oh, the power's out!" Minnie hugged her dog Fifi, who was glad to have her home early from trick-or-treating, and had been cuddling beside her on the couch. "Don't worry, though, I've got flashlights and plenty of candles!" "But the popcorn didn't finish popping!" Clarabelle wailed. "Silly, I've got a box of cookies!" Minnie found her way into the kitchen, Fifi at her heels. She brought back hot pink flashlights, matches, candles, and a pretty gold box of pumpkin sugar cookies. "What are we going to do all night? Just pig out in the dark?" Daisy scowled. "Let's think of something fun, how about having a séance?" Clarabelle offered. "Nooo!" Lilly whimpered, wanting to hide under the couch if any ghosts showed up. "We're going to my room, and from there we're going to a Halloween party at a glamorous hotel," Minnie smiled, leading the way. Daisy, Penny, Clarabelle, and Lilly curiously followed. The rain fell steadily against the windowpanes as Minnie carefully placed candles around her room and lit them. Soft orange light shone upon where the party was to take place: Minnie's dollhouse. "We all left our dolls here yesterday, remember? So, we'll dress them up and pretend the dollhouse is a big, grand hotel with a ballroom!" The girls were enchanted by the idea. They crowded around Minnie's treasure trunk painted with flowers where she kept all of her doll clothes. There were even things inside like tiny paper roses, faded floral handkerchiefs, plastic tiaras, and scraps of delicate fabric. Clarabelle wound the handkerchiefs around her doll until she was shrouded in mystery. Daisy and Penny fought over the roses but found there were enough to share. Lilly chose the frothiest, glittering pink cloud of a dress she could find, while Minnie picked a beautiful white satin gown. Outside the storm drew on. Moonlight streamed through a curtain of rain into the candlelit room, making it all very cozy. Thunder rumbled quietly now, and Fifi nestled next to Minnie whenever the lightning flashed. "You're coming too, Fifi! Look!" Minnie said sweetly to her baby, and placed a porcelain dog figurine inside the dollhouse. She was painted the same rich brown as Fifi, and the little dog barked happily. The party was ready to begin. With the power out, the music floated from a trusty cassette player. Minnie chose a tape with old romantic songs like 'In the Still of the Night', 'Twilight Time', 'Stardust', and 'Midnight, the Stars and You'. Each girl gave her doll a piece of candy as they sat down at a perfect little pink table. Clarabelle wanted everyone to meet her doll first, Dahlia Dairymaid. "She's hosting the séance!" Clarabelle grinned, placing a jeweled keychain of Minnie's at the center of the table, making a real crystal ball.  The girls joined her around the table, linking hands and closing their eyes. Lilly peeked as Dahlia began to speak quietly into the candlelit shadows, asking the spirits to appear. A crack of thunder made everyone jump out of their chairs. Suddenly they heard the click of high heels on the polished floors. "Instead of summoning a ghost, you've invited a beauty queen to the doll realm," Daisy's doll, Mary Lou Moonstone, placed her bouquet of roses on the table, the satin red petals shining in the dark. "And me! I'm here to tap-dance!" Lilly's doll, the child star Helen Shimmers, danced out of the darkness and whirled around the table. "Please! I need quiet to contact the other side," Dahlia shooed them away. "Flowers! Flowers to buy!" a sweet voice echoed. It was Penny's doll, Wendy Gardenwalk, entering the hotel with a basket of flowers she hoped to sell. "Let's buy some for the ghosts," Minnie giggled. "I have all the flowers I need!" Mary Lou turned up her nose. "Oh dear, I suppose we aren't communicating with any spirits tonight," Dahlia covered her crystal with a shroud of lace. "Minnie, where is your doll?" Lilly wondered. "Oh, she'll be singing later tonight. But first, we need to finish these cookies so she will have a stage!" The girls laughed and shared the pumpkin cookies, the orange sugar sparkling in the glow of the candles. The dolls finished their candy and tried to start the séance again, but Helen took Wendy's basket of flowers and danced into the labyrinth of hallways. "Give those back!" Wendy chased after her, and everyone followed them. Helen's high-pitched giggles echoed down the grand halls of the hotel. Wendy snatched the basket back, and began to laugh too. The dolls twirled down the hallway throwing pink petals into the air. They sprinkled down upon the shining floor like pumpkin seeds. "How lovely, a path of petals for the queen," Mary Lou's glossy shoes followed the plush petals to the ballroom, as Dahlia walked in a dreamlike haze, silently willing any spirits who might be walking with them to communicate with her. The storm was growing quiet, a silence waiting to be filled by a doll's haunting song. As everyone played make-believe about the hotel, Minnie couldn't help but to feel perturbed. They all were still in her room, weren't they? She looked at the furniture she was sure she had made for her dolls, but it seemed too real, and just her size. The glittery orange garland she had hung from the ceiling for her dolls weeks ago was too high for her to touch. A final crash of thunder made the candles tremble, the shivering light dazzled her. Minnie thought how strange it was the candles seemed so far away. Had they left her room? Shadows floated across the painted walls, playing with her mind. But she didn't have too much time to wonder about it. The cookies were finished and now the empty box would become the stage for her doll's singing debut. The golden doors of the ballroom waited to be opened, but would there be ghosts inside? Of course not! Only a party for sweet little girls and their beloved dolls. The ballroom was the brightest place in the hotel, a crystal chandelier pouring warm light that no storm could touch. "And now, the lovely Miss Claire Poupée will sing 'Mouse of My Dreams'," Minnie announced, smiling proudly as her doll took to the stage in her starlit white silk gown. She sang her sweet and wistful melody as the girls and their dolls swayed across the candlelit floor, giggling and cloaked in Halloween magic. "I'm so glad you girls joined us for the night," Claire smiled when her song was finished. "It would be so lovely if this Halloween night went on forever," "We wish it could too," Daisy said dreamily; Penny, Lilly, and Clarabelle nodded along, but Minnie crept to the edge of the dollhouse, knowing they had been inside it for the entire night. She peeked out into the darkened room where the candles burned quietly, and asleep on the floor of her bedroom, she and her friends were laying and holding tightly to their dolls. The hushed rain and autumn leaves fell so softly outside the window, filling a night that would be spent in the golden world of her dollhouse ballroom.  

[theotherackerman]

The Rubble or Our Sins?

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

CHAPTER FIVE: if you trust me, hands up

Mikasa’s fist almost came in contact with Annie’s face.

The Female Titan Shifter managed to duck away from Mikasa’s fist before it made contact.

Annie aimed for Mikasa’s stomach but Mikasa caught Annie’s hand.

They were still equally matched.

Annie held up her hand that had a cut from her ring. Mikasa released Annie’s hand.

“I’ll do it,” Annie replied as she took a step back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Connie asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“He asked for my help,” Annie said as she pointed at Armin.

Armin just held his hands up.

“I didn’t know you could hear me,” Armin replied.

“Unfortunately. Between you and Hitch, I heard a lot of things. You asked for my help, now I’m here. So what do you want from me?” Annie asked as she lowered her hand.

“So all this time, you could have just escaped whenever you wanted to?” Jean scoffed.

“The Female Titan has the ability to take on other characteristics of the other titans. Marley had a good time experimenting on me with different titan serums,” Annie explained. “But it wasn’t me that broke out. It was just….this feeling…….this warmth……..then my eyes opened….I don’t…..I can’t explain it. Now what do you want from me?”

Armin lowered his hands.

There was a snort of snoring that came from Sasha as she turned over on the ground.

“I wish I wasn’t drunk right now,” Connie muttered before sitting down on the ground. “You know you did a lot of fucked up things. Your whole…..whatever…” Connie leaned back against the log.

“Very well put,” Jean scoffed.

“Fuck off,” Connie said as he kicked Jean’s foot.

“I don’t trust her,” Mikasa said.

“Neither do I,” Ymir added.

“You’re one to talk, Jaw Titan,” Annie said as she stared at Ymir.

“At least I’m not a monster killing innocent people.”

“Marcel was innocent," Annie scoffed.

"Fuck that. I was in titan form. I had no idea what your little friend was. Weren't you coming here to kill us all anyway? I don't call that innocent."  Ymir took a step closer to Annie.

"If I came home, I'd be a hero. I'd be honored. My father would finally be proud of me! I'd be a good person!"

"Then take the Founding Titan and go home. He's standing right there," Ymir pointed to Eren.

Mikasa backed up until her entire body was shielding Eren. "You'll go through me first."

"I'm not here to fight! He came to me! He asked for my help and somehow, that broke me from the crystal. The only thing I know that can do that is the Founding Titan so what are you all doing?" Annie questioned.

The rest of the group looked at one another.

"We never activated the Founding Titan. Not sense...when was the last time?" Ymir asked.

"Historia triggered some memories from it but before that, I used it to kill the Smiling Titan. That's the only time," Eren explained.

"You didn't free me?" Annie asked Eren.

He shook his head.

"Then what did?" Annie asked.

"Exactly I want to know," Levi said from the doorway of the cabin. "It's late. Get in here."

The Squad nodded.

Ymir, Mikasa, Armin, Eren, and Annie made no moves to go inside.

Sasha was hoisted up between Jean and Connie. They carried her into the cabin.

Ymir moved next. She scooped Historia up and carried her inside.

That left Armin, Eren, Mikasa, and Annie outside.

Mikasa stayed on her guard.

"What do you need my help with?" Annie asked.

"Marley is going to come after us. We need another Titan on our side. Annie, you asked me if I thought you were a good person. I think….I think you're like us. You're caught in the middle of all this. Being good, it's all relative. I...I…" the words Armin wanted to say wouldn't come out.

Annie turned away from them.

She pointed off into the distance.

"My dad is there. He's waiting for my return. I just…..I just want him back. I want him to be proud of me."

"They're going to kill all of us, Annie. It might not be today or tomorrow but the rest of the world, they hate us."

"I hate us too," Annie confessed.

Mikasa's hands balled into fists.

"I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired. I just want to live a peaceful life with my dad."

"You can't have that if Marley attacks. First its Paradis. What happens after they wipe us off the map? Who's next? They'll turn against those in the interment zone. Then once you've served your purpose, they'll turn on you. This won't end with us, Annie. Not until we fight back," Armin explained.

Annie looked away from him and then back down.

"I want to talk to you privately," Annie replied.

Mikasa raised an eyebrow.

Armin nodded, telling Mikasa it was okay.

Eren and Mikasa then walked inside. There was no doubt in Armin's mind that both of them would be watching.

"Why did you visit me so much? Why didn't you just let them feed me to someone?"

"Oh. I..uhh...you heard what Hitch said to me, didn't you?"

Annie nodded.

"I thought it was obvious. I thought it had been since the cadet core. It's why your betrayal hurt so bad." Armin sat down on the log.

Annie sat down beside him. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

They both looked back towards the cabin.

"I can tell you what I know but I won't fight. Not anymore. And if you see my dad…."

"We'll save him. But you can't keep any secrets."

Annie nodded.

"There's an extra room in…."

"I'll take my chances out here."

"If we're supposed to trust you, you have to trust us." Armin stood and started walking towards the cabin.

"Wait, Armin."

He stopped walking and turned back to face Annie.

"Why did you come and see me so much?"

"I told you. Do you really not get it?"

"I don't."

There was this odd silence between the two of them.

Armin held out his hand towards her.

Annie stared at it.

"I couldn't kill you. When I saw it was you under the cloak, I couldn't do it. The thought of harming you, it made my insides feel like they were tangled up. I felt sick. Then when you looked at me like I was a monster…."

"I've killed innocents too."

"Not as many as I have. All in the name of something I don't even believe in."

Armin didn't say anything. He took a step closer to her, his hand still stretched out towards her.

She stared back at his hand again before looking at his face.

Their eyes seemed to lock on one another as Annie took his hand and got to her feet.

They walked into the cabin.

It was no surprise to either of them that Levi, Mikasa, Eren, and Hange seemed to be waiting for them.

Levi just stared at Annie.

“I’ll take the first watch. Room in the back there doesn’t have a window. If you make one wrong move, I’ll feel no guilt about removing your head from your shoulders,” Levi replied as he placed one of his swords on the table.

Annie nodded. “You’re titan experiments. The Ackerman line, in case you were wondering. We thought you were all dead. You were meant to protect the king.”

Mikasa was startled. Her hand slipped into Eren’s.

“And why would I believe anything you have to say?” Levi asked as he sat down at the table.

“You don’t have to. I was a Warrior. I spent months being educated on what I was going to face over here.”

“What do you know about the War Hammer?” Levi asked.

“So they successfully isolated a titan gene?” Hange asked.

Levi looked over at Hange. Now is not the time, Levi thought.

I know but I’ve been working my whole life towards this. Don’t kill her before I know more about it, Hange thought.

“I don’t know how they did it. They didn’t share that much with us. Zeke would know more. He was the War Chief. As for the War Hammer, the Tybur family was royalty practically. They have a large estate. I don’t know who wields it. There’s a few members. Willy Tybur, I’ve seen him around a lot. His father...I can’t remember his name but he told us about the vow King made to renounce war. I think Willy has a sister too. I don’t know who wields it. It’s powerful. It won the Great Titan War.”

“Ymir told us something similar about their power,” Hange commented.

“So that part must be true,” Armin added.

“I don’t…..Armin promised me my father. I want my father to remain safe. I’ll tell you whatever you want, in exchange for my father.”

Levi and Hange looked at one another.

One man, that’s not asking for a lot, Hange thought.

You’re right, Levi thought.

“Fine, we won’t hurt your father and if there is a chance we can grab him, then we’ll bring him here. Once we iron out the details. Now go to sleep,” Levi said as he sat down at the table. He began polishing his sword.

“I’ll show you your room, Annie,” Armin said.

Mikasa and Eren shared a look.

Eren and Mikasa followed Armin and Annie down the hall. Eren and Mikasa let go of one another’s hand.

“Goodnight,” Mikasa said as she opened her door.

“Goodnight,” Eren replied as he watched her disappear inside her room.

Eren waited for Armin to come back.

“Mikasa and I are together,” Eren blurted out.

Armin raised an eyebrow at him, though Eren couldn’t see it in the dark room.

There was silence for a moment.

“Finally,” Armin said before he sat down on his bed. “I was tired of being stuck in the middle of you two.” 

“Wait, you knew?” Eren asked.

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t tell either of you because I couldn’t betray the other’s trust. You don’t know how frustrating it was for me.”

“I’ve only got a few years left but she wants that.”

“Of course, she does. Annie only has a few years left too but I want them too.”

“So you finally confessed that?”

“Yeah, well….I don’t know what’s going to happen there.”

“Mikasa thinks we’ll be able to fix this.”

“Can’t make it any worse, now can we?”

“I guess you’re right there,” Eren remarked.

The two of them drifted off to sleep much easier than had in a long time.

[averylilyevans]

it’s your life

i found this old post of mine recently and decided to give it a little update! i was so young when i wrote it, so i had some new ideas to freshen it up. naturally i did this instead of doing my organic post-lab. here it is! 

first year is full of frustration and unfamiliarity and a twinge of homesickness. it’s being sorted into a different house than sev, being top of your year, being the one person potter seems to seek out most. it’s befriending marlene and dorcas and mary, staying up late at night while they tell you about all the wizarding world has to offer. it’s discovering quidditch (which you hate) and celestina warbeck (whom you love). it’s trying every candy that marlene’s older brother brings back from honeydukes and accidentally walking through the bloody baron.

second year is sending a tickling charm potter’s way after he calls sev “snevillus.” it’s your first detention directly after, too, and definitely worth it. it’s figuring out remus’ secret and not telling a soul - not even him for the longest - but you don’t care (how could you?) because it’s Remus we’re talking about. it’s helping mary with charms and dorcas with girls and marlene with waking up in the morning. it’s learning (and being awful at) wizards’ chess and turning your beetle into a button first try. it’s sev staring at you from the slytherin’s table and still being in awe of the great hall’s twinkling sky and always taking two helpings of treacle tart.

third year is hogsmeade and arithmancy and divination and potter asking you out for the first time (you not-so-politely decline). it’s spending the majority of october with your legs dangling in the great lake, your friends giggling next to you. it’s studying with sev in the library and trying not to notice the guilty look in his eye. it’s petunia writing to you even less than before because of some normal whale of a man named vernon. it’s sharing a butterbeer with sirius black in hogsmeade because you’ve lost your friends and really, they’ll be right back, but he insists and is actually quite funny and you think you’ve rather misjudged him. it’s going to the kitchens one night with remus, because it’s been a long day and the house elves always have hot chocolate.

fourth year is slug club parties and sneaking off with benji fawcett because parties aren’t your thing and sirius couldn’t make this one. it’s waking up the next morning to marlene telling you she’d run into potter and he was looking rather dejected (you ignore the guilt in your stomach; it’s only there a moment). it’s sitting with dorcas and mary at quidditch matches, watching potter soar through the air like a bird. it’s finally having the nerve to quit divination because crystal balls and prophecies are complete rubbish anyway. it’s thinking sev has been hanging out too much with mulciber and avery and malfoy but getting excuse after excuse in response. it’s trying your first sip of alcohol with dorcas and marlene at christmas, the burn in your throat masking your worry for sev.

fifth year is when all hell really breaks loose. it’s sev asking too many questions about remus and potter being more arrogant than ever before (that sodding snitch) and being so stressed because o.w.l.s are coming up and you have to show your worth. it’s threatening potter for threatening sev by the lake and that word - the one that haunts your brain and creeps into your nightmares. it’s knowing potter didn’t deserve what you said, because your sev is too far gone and in his place is a boy who doesn’t understand what he’s doing (you hope, you pray; the alternative is too much to bear). it’s not taking points away from the marauders even though you’re a prefect, and maybe you’re abusing your power but you can’t bring yourself to care. it’s drinking firewhiskey with marlene in empty classrooms and passing your exams with flying colors. it’s more “i hate you, potter”s and “back at you, evans”s than ever before, but the bite just isn’t there. it’s partnering with peter in potions because he’s absolutely dreadful and you get the sense he feels a little less than compared to his talented friends. it’s your dad getting sick and your world falling apart and sirius and that prank and why why why?

sixth year is regaining control and desperately trying to cling onto normalcy. it’s spending more time with mary and dorcas and marlene. it’s ignoring sev every time he comes around the corner trying to get your attention because you just can’t make excuses for him anymore. it’s going to potter’s house over break after sirius says he’s run away, and the three of you drinking and laughing until the sun comes up. it’s deciding maybe there’s worse things in life than arrogant boys with good intentions. it’s hours and hours of homework and studying because you’re taking more n.e.w.t.-level subjects than anyone knew existed. it’s knowing petunia won’t write you back but sending chocolates on her birthday just in case. it’s discovering the marauders’ secret - why they’re moony, wormtail, padfoot, and prongs - and laughing uncontrollably because they’re just so bloody brilliant. it’s brewing potions for fun and enjoying life instead of just existing. it’s eating breakfast with your friends and the marauders and ignoring the feeling in your stomach when james passes you the juice you like without asking. it’s learning to apparate and mary splinching herself and spending the rest of the evening with marlene and dorcas in the hospital wing. it’s a war brewing outside the castle walls; and when mcgonagall asks if you know what you’d like to do after hogwarts, she sees the fire in your emerald eyes and knows.

seventh year is being head girl and wishing severus hadn’t gone down that road and getting upset when your friends ask you if you like james (why does he have to look so bloody perfect all the time). it’s parties that last until midnight and tutoring scared first years and sneaking into honeydukes with james to get remus chocolates after a full moon. it’s singing at the top of your lungs with marlene and swimming in the great lake with mary. it’s thinking your chance with james is gone because he’s moved on and sirius giving you a look that says are you a bloody idiot? it’s dorcas holding you as you cry because another muggle family has been killed and you don’t know how much more you can take. it’s running out onto the pitch after gryffindor wins the cup and kissing james full on the mouth in front of the whole school because his lips look soft and he’s beautiful and courageous and kind and he feels like home and why have you fought this for so long? it’s ignoring the hurt look in severus’ eye as you make your way back to the castle, james’ strong arm wrapped around your shoulders. it’s flinching when petunia says she’d never make a freak like you her bridesmaid but bringing james to the wedding just to drive her mad. it’s being scared to leave hogwarts because after all these years it’s home, and you can’t imagine a day when your nights won’t end with your friends’ laughter by the fire.

graduating isn’t like coming up for fresh air. it isn’t a week before dumbledore is owling, asking if you lot would like to join the order of the phoenix. you train for only two weeks, learning curses you shouldn’t need to know even exist. now life is missions and green light whizzing by your head. it’s the three days when sirius went missing and james couldn’t sleep or eat and you finally found him inside an abandoned building chained to the wall. it’s dorcas being murdered by voldemort himself and remus going to live with the werewolves and marlene’s entire family being gone before you have time to mourn the others and everyone around you is dying. it’s seeing severus on the battlefield for the first time and not hesitating for a moment before sending a curse his way. it’s james looking over at you as he shields you both from a bright red light and says “marry me, evans.” it’s responding “are you mad? of course i will” like you aren’t literally in the middle of a bloody war. it’s going home and kissing him like your life depends on it, and you think to yourself that maybe it does. it’s the empty spots beside mary where dorcas and marlene should be and sirius’ best man speech moving you to tears. it’s coming face to face with voldemort twice and surviving. it’s finding out you’re pregnant and telling sirius first because you’re not even twenty yet and james is out on a mission and what are we supposed to do now? it’s remus and sirius never leaving your perfect little house in godric’s hallow, insisting on being together as much as possible. it’s secretly wondering what’s going on with peter, because he hasn’t come ‘round much and you’re worried but the boys dismiss your fears. it’s wanting to make a difference - for yourself and your husband and your friends - because this world isn’t one worth living in.

going into hiding is like giving up on everything you’ve fought for. it’s harry being born and wishing your mum was there, but james has never been so proud and the look on sirius’ face when you ask him to be the godfather makes everything worth it. it’s sitting on the couch, stroking the cat that wandered into your backyard. it’s listening to james talk to harry, telling him about all the mischief the marauders got into at school. it’s wishing you could go back to those days for a while. it’s feeling like the walls are caving in on you and wondering how this happened and sobbing into james’ chest. it’s him eyeing his cloak, and you knowing he wants to take it out more than anything. it’s wishing you had kept taking divination, because it’s not rubbish - it’s ruining your family. it’s switching your secret keeper to peter at the last minute, because sirius is too obvious and he means too much and if he got hurt for you, you don’t really know what you’d do (and you know james would never forgive himself). it’s regretting not listening to your gut when the front door bursts open. it’s knowing exactly what is going to happen when james yells at you to take harry and run. it’s not having enough time to tell him how much you love him, but you look into his hazel eyes and he knows, he knows; he’s always known. it’s hearing the love of your life hit the floor and trying to protect the baby that looks so much like him behind you. it’s standing tall and strong like you always have as you place harry in his crib, the footsteps closing in. it’s being confused as to why he’s asking you to stand aside but refusing anyway. it’s thinking of sirius and remus and mary and peter as the green light reaches you.

[erikthedead]

entry #4

Started reading FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY’s ‘Notes from the Underground,’ and I just got into the second half of him rambling and reflecting on his behaviour in detail. I never would have thought a Russian man from the 19th century would make me feel a little bit less alone in this world (or at least the ‘character’ delivering the narrative). Yet the more I read about what goes on in peoples’ heads the less insane I feel, or at least comforted by realising that everyone is a little bit insane, as long as they’re being honest. Should that be comforting? I feel like that should actually be disturbing, but I kinda like being disturbed. The bit that struck me to get writing about myself was how he recurringly mentions this need to be seen and heard and be a noble member of society, but flip flops between that and a state of isolating himself and being a recluse, ashamed by how his own face looks. I hope I’m interpreting it right, as I’m not so sure I’m smart enough to fully understand everything the man was trying to convey. The whole thing reads as him trying to make sense of himself, if anything. But if I am right in that, I can totally relate, and it causes me much distress as it seemed to have tormented him too.  His way was to throw himself into busy streets and bars, never feeling comfortable with it from what I’ve read, and possibly did it on purpose to feel uncomfortable, because he was getting bored with the current discomfort of isolating himself in his room with his books. That’s the interesting thing about it, he never once says he ‘leaves the comfort’ of his own home, like you’ll hear many well-adjusted introverts say. People who are content on their own. He obviously wasn’t content, he was bored, sick of his own brain, he tells us how he would break down into tearful fits from some sort of mental anguish that he tried to escape from through consumption of literature. I do exactly the same thing with media of all kinds, not because I ENJOY spending time with myself and my things, but because it helps me COPE with it. I am so envious of consistently introverted people who relish in their alone time. That SHOULD BE ME. All the same, it annoys me to death when someone complains about being ‘stuck in the house’ all day when they want to go out and mingle and see the world, because that is too exhausting a thing to wish for compared to creature comforts and solitude, surely. Both of them irritate me because I’m jealous of their seemingly consistent understanding of themselves, their desires and what makes them content on a regular, general basis. I’ve been trying to hard to figure out my own. I’m twenty-six now, yet I still feel juvenile as hell. I still feel like a child that goes up to the next thing that catches its eye and wants to ask, ‘can I have a go?’ And of course, to an innocent child, you let them have a go, without any expectations. You don’t get that luxury as an adult. You are expected to choose, commit, KNOW what you want. But again, I can’t help but think this isn’t me being special, that everyone probably feels this way, you certainly hear it from a lot of old people who humbly state that they are still always learning and discovering new things. Then again maybe they miss the point. Discovering things is fine, all the time. Learning is appreciated and encouraged. But actually changing or choosing not to change (both can be bad, right?), that is unsettling. We’ve given up good and evil for behaviourism and yet still people like me, Fyodor and to name a few other people I relate to when I read their autobiographies, Russell Brand, Stephen Fry, Steve-O (oh yes I compare myself to the greats, in all my unheard mighty feats), people like us can’t even get that right. Creative, expressive, bipolar people. People with big heads and sensitive souls, I’d say. Although I connect deeply to people like this I’d never want to be around them for too long. I know their torment and quite frankly my own is enough to contend with. There is a feeling of ‘pay attention to me but leave me alone.’ ‘Love me more than anything but don’t care too much about me because I’m bound to hurt you or make a fool of myself.’ Actually, in Notes from the Underground, Fyodor talks about man’s unconscious desire to smash up something he has been building, because he is unconsciously terrified of what to do what he has completed it, and Brand actually mentions this quite a bit in his Bookywooks. How he’d personally reach a level of fame and notoriety but then sabotage it, fearing the peak or what comes after – the come down. I hope I’ve interpreted these guys correctly, because it does make sense to me. The only thing that really sets me aside from these guys is my utter lack of ambition. At least in these peoples’ hypomanic states they were achieving something. What do I do? I’m the classic, slightly mentally ill underachiever that never sticks to anything. The sheer magnitude of my unconscientiousness could be used as an example of how not to be during a Jordan Peterson lecture. My downfalls were not self-sabotages, conscious or unconscious for the first half of my life. The rest you can blame on me, that’s fair enough, but puberty hit me early and like a train, and all that meant was I was spotty and got a bullied a bit, but that didn’t excuse me from performing well in my exams and essays. I was predicted to come out with some of the top grades in the whole school. I even started finding my confidence and standing up for myself to bullies after a few years adjusting to adolescence. Then my mother died suddenly one night from an overdose when I was fourteen, and my whole world flipped upside down. Like an anime main character backstory right there. It wasn’t perfect beforehand, anyone who knows my whole childhood situation will agree, but I had a bloody good chance up until she died. After that, I became nihilistic, rebellious, promiscuous and generally self-destructive. ‘How would your mother feel if she could see you now? She wouldn’t have wanted this.’ Oh how I wish I slapped anyone that said this to me. How dare they even try to assume what she would have wanted, having never known her. Of course, I said it to myself all the time, I still do sometimes, but I have that right. The rest of you don’t. Hah, rights. What a joke, even as I try to be dominant through typing to imaginary figments of the past and the future, I’m not even convincing myself.

The inconsistency, of my desires, my attitudes, my cognitions, my emotions and ultimately my behaviour is what pains me. I would rather be a complete abolition that was sure in himself than be like this. What’s even more frustrating is that it’s not that uncommon for people to be like me in that sense, but they just go with the flow with it, seemingly unaware of their inconsistency, and become incredibly defensive when you point it out. It’s understandable, I get defensive with myself, which could be an early sign of schizophrenia, who knows, time will tell. At the moment though I am without doubt an anxious, depressive, inconsistent muddled mess of a person, and even the HOPE for my future self comes and goes in powerful forms. I have the grandiose fantasies of being interviewed by people because I’m just that interesting and my achievements are that remarkable, and I also have the sheer terror while preparing to talk to the shop assistant when I’m buying something. Oh yeah, buying things, that’s a tricky one for me an’ all! The trick with me is not to give me too much choice, because if I have I will never decide, or I will make a silly last minute decision or pick the third thing after debating with myself for ten minutes between choosing from the first and the second. Not only indecisiveness, but impulsiveness plagues me. Not just buying things I don’t need, or don’t even want yet because I haven’t finished the last thing, but even charitably so. I saw a stranger E-begging by chance and decided to send him money. I have no idea why. Am I just a good person? I don’t have enough money for myself, and even if I do have some to spare, that should go to others who have helped me financially before a stranger on the internet. Maybe I’m not a good person, and I just did it to cleanse myself of some feeling of shame or guilt for wasting money on myself. As well as the positive fantasies of my future where I am destined to greatness through nothing other than my own conviction and virtues, I have the other vision in the crystal ball that shows myself destitute and addicted to hard drugs, homeless or institutionalised, ultimately suicided. Addiction and suicide run through my veins afterall, and I’ve been close to becoming the 3rd generation of my bloodline to go out by my own hand. The decently sized scar on my arm from a self-inflicted slash that was intended for my neck, that nearly severed my nerves and would have left me with a malfunctioning left hand had I gone any deeper. Sometimes I look at it and feel ashamed for doing it, for trying to throw away my beautiful, special life, and other times I look at it and feel ashamed for missing my real target, my consciousness. I battle with my consciousness a lot, I try to minimise it through drink and drugs or healthy mental exercises, distract it with my media, sublimate it through writing and drawing, but rarely do I get peace from it. Then other times, I count my blessings and praise the universe for bestowing onto me just the ability to think and feel and be a person. Neither approach to life is crazy to me, what’s crazy to me is not being able to bloody pick one and settle on it for more than a couple of days at a time. Like Fyodor describes his character going out into a busy bustling area in his urges to be part of society after a stint of isolation, I will go out some weekends and do the same, but that’s only a more recent, probably more healthy advance in my development than what I have been doing for a long time which is going online to provoke and debate people with my thoughts and opinions, and sometimes cheeky insults. I really resent when people who know me call it ‘trolling’ when I go off on these episodes. Trolling to me is when you put something out there that you don’t actually stand by, but you know will get a reaction out of people because you’re bored and want to mess with people. Now fair enough, there’s a lot to be said for that last part, but I have no reason to say things I don’t really think/feel/believe when the things I say genuinely are enough to upset people on their own, things I sincerely believe are correct. I’ll feel ever so right and convicted during these online tirades, then the next day want to delete all my social media and wipe my name from the planetary database. Perhaps I could just delete my existence while I’m at it. Seems like my self-doubt and my self-assuredness play equal part in my misery, because like everything else, I can’t choose one. The same happens if I go out and meet new people on the weekend, I’ll exchange numbers and add people with all intention of meeting up in the future, only to ghost them afterwards. I don’t know why.