#i would love to have the ability to do anything except rot in my room

[rabbivole]

it's a 'really hoping i haven't had the last halloween costume of my life' kind of day

[frenziedslashers]

Hi there! I would like a request a OS about Peter B Parker x Fem! Reader as a married couple Smut (Reader is Mayday's mother). The Reader is like Starfire (An alien superheroine and a beautiful hot like fire (literally, since her powers comes from the sun) person married to a human) Like Malewife and Girlboss...So when Peter comes home, she's taking care of her daughter meanwhile he was on patrol, so she put her daughter on bed time. She wants to have a night of "fun" with her husband. Taking good care of him with a bath and a dinner so then the "fun" can come. With a purple robe and a sexy lavender lingerie. I can leave the smut part to you with some recommendations Lactation Kink, Praise kink, "Mommy" kink, Oral (Female and male receiving), Creampie, maybe 69 position...

Take good care 🥰

Early Nights Off;;

A/N: Dude, I am literally blowing you kisses and hugging you platonically through my laptop rn. I was smiling and kicking my feet when I saw that you nearly instantly sent me a request for Peter. I am so in love with him, I love my silly goofy DILFs hehe. I have never written for a lactation kink before so I will not be doing that as I do not know how and Idk how comfortable I am with it LMAO I will try and interoperate the rest into this for you though. Thank you again, literally my savior for my brain rot rn. HE IS SO MALEWIFE THOUGH, YOU ARE SO REAL. I hope this is good enough, this is my first Peter fic haha.

Warnings: Breeding Kink (I just know he has one after Mayday.), Praise Kink, "Mommy" Kink sort of?, Oral (F and M Receiving), Creampie (Wrap it before you tap it guys), Reader is an alien (Not proofread, sorry lmao)

Any other day it would be easy for Peter to patrol the city all night. Even if the crime activity was little to nothing. He could spend all day and night swinging from building to building. It beat sitting at home with nothing to do.

Except now he had a reason to be home. Even before the two of you had Mayday, and it was just you. He found himself crawling through the window of your shared apartment earlier and earlier each night. You were his weakness, and he was never ashamed to admit it.

After you gave him his first kid though. There were some nights that he wouldn't go out at all. Too enraptured by baby Mayday to even think about leaving your cozy home. Playing with the baby. Watching you nurture and care for her. Being a dad was something he enjoyed a lot more than he ever thought he would. He had Miles to thank for breaking his fear of kids.

Tonight was one of his early nights. Calling it quits after all he found for crime activity was a man robbing a woman of her purse. Cliché and typical, but he put a stop to it nonetheless. Getting the woman's purse back while also tying the attacker up in front of the New York Police Department with a letter attached to him.

'Caught him robbing a lady, you're welcome. - Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.'

He wondered if they ever actually took in and charged the people he left on their doorstep like that. Or if they simply untied them and let them run because they had no proof they actually did anything wrong? That was a question for another time, though. Right now he was focused on opening the bedroom window. Crawling in and shutting it behind him to keep the muggy air outside from entering the room.

He was quick to take the suit off. Figuring he wouldn't need it for the rest of the night. Pulling a grey shirt on that hung on the side of the bed. Keeping only his boxers on to allow his body to cool down from the warmer conditions outside.

You were in the living room. Comfortable pajamas on while you lulled Mayday to sleep in your arms. A soft hum leaving your throat as you rocked her back and forth. He had to stop and watch for a while. Leaning against the door frame that led him from your shared room to the living room.

"You're back early," you cooed. At times he wished you didn't have the ability to sense him like he could you. It was nice sometimes, though. Not at times that he wanted to just sit and watch you mother his baby.

"I missed my beautiful girls," he murmured, that smug smile gracing his features. You were glad to have looked up and seen it.

"Well, I just fed her and got her to sleep." you informed, and he nodded. Licking his lips while his eyes raked over you. Practically undressing you and imagining all the things he could do to you right now. It had been so long since the two of you had any time to each other. That seemed to be one of the few, if not only down falls to being parents. Sex felt scarce, but that didn't mean it was totally absent from your lives.

"I think I might shower while you lay her down," he spoke, shifting his feet as he went to turn back for the bathroom down the hall. "Or I could run you a bath while I make you something to eat?" you offered and he just couldn't say no.

He smiled, nodding his head while staring you down. So much love and adoration was in his eyes. He was perfect. Mayday was perfect. You were perfect.

"What man could say no to that offer?" He snickered, to which you rolled your eyes. Smiling fondly at your husband while you stood to your feet. Kissing his cheek when you made it over to him. "I'll get that bath running then," you hummed. Heading for Maydays room to put her to bed. Shutting the door behind you before you scurried off for the bathroom. Swaying your hips a little more than normal since you knew he was staring.

He was, too. His eyes eating you up like candy while they took in your form. God, he could eat you alive.

The water was the perfect temperature. The soaps that you put in it had him melting into the atmosphere. Everything was perfect. He couldn't ask for anything better. When you came walking in with food, and that skimpy bathrobe that drove him crazy. He was certain you were praying on his downfall.

"You spoil me," he told you as he took a plate from your hand. Watching as you sat on the edge of the tub with your own plate in hand. The both of you eating together. Peter a little more eager than you. He loved his food.

"Only because you spoil me in return," you grinned. He raised a questioning brow. Taking a bite of the Mac and Cheese that you warmed up from the night before. "How? I don't make enough money to spoil you. You spoil me more that I do you, and it's a little unfair," he pouted a bit. He hated the fact that he couldn't spoil you like he wanted to, but you never seemed to mind. Everything was fine the way it was.

"You find your ways, Pete," you hummed as you put your plate on the sink counter. Climbing off the tub so you could kneel on the floor next to the tub. His eyes were glued to yours. A questioning glint to them that begged for you to explain further.

"You don't need money to spoil someone. You pamper me with little things. Like your affection and how romantic you can be," you smiled, because he truly was a sap. He loved spending nights cuddling with you. Kissing over your body while reminding you how beautiful you were. Praising you for carrying his baby. Your baby. Making dinner for you on the nights that you couldn't bring yourself to. Or simply taking you and Mayday to the park to get some ice-cream and be a family.

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have never had little Mayday, either," you admitted, and he raised a brow. "Really?" He questioned, and you nodded.

"I never really wanted kids. Not until we started dating. You made me realize that I don't need to be scared of that sort of commitment ever again. You gave me a beautiful daughter," he felt his heart racing at your words. "I never really wanted a kid before you, either. It scared me, being a superhero and all." You both chuckled at that. Staring at one another for a moment or two.

"I guess we both spoiled each other in that department," you told him, and he nodded. "Guess so."

When Peter and yourself finally finished eating, that's when you helped him wash his hair. Something that he was going to do himself, but when you offered to do so. He just laid back and let you.

Your fingers pulled through his hair. Nails scratching his scalp just right while you spread the shampoo. A soft moan leaving his lips while his eyes fell shut. It had you smiling to yourself. Biting your bottom lip to try and keep it from growing any wider.

You leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. Your hands trailing down his chest while you leaned in closer to his ear. Peter's eyes opening when he felt your breath on his ear. His eyes trailing down to your chest. Catching a glimpse of the lavender bra under your bathrobe. The thought of you in lingerie had him grunting. His cock twitching to life under the water. It had been too long since the two of you had done anything like this. Something that wasn't a quickie before he left for work after his lunch break, while Mayday was down for her afternoon nap.

"God, I love you so much," he muttered, and you giggled. Pressing a kiss to his temple. "Scoot down so I can wash your hair out, goofball," you teased, and he felt his heart thumping. "Yes Ma'am."

Once his hair was all washed it was time for him to call it a night. Eyes begging for you to take him to the bedroom so you could both fuck like rabbits. Before Mayday that's what it felt like you two were. Primal Animals that only knew how to fuck or make love. Whatever mood Peter was in that night deciphered how he screwed you.

Tonight he wanted to pamper you. To really spoil you since he knew you planned to do the same to him. Gosh, "I'd do anything to be between those thighs," He murmured out loud. A dumbstruck look on his face. He hadn't even noticed he said it out loud, and you knew it. A giggle escaping your lips while you leaned forward. Ghosting your lips over his. "Not if I'm between yours first," you cooed, and he shuddered.

His face was a slight red out of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say that to you out loud, but it wouldn't be the first lewd thing he'd ever said to you. Peter was fairly good at telling you what he wanted and how he wanted to do it. The more lust filled he got, the less of a sensor he had.

It was like a race for the both of you. Peter standing from the tub while flicking the switch so the water would drain. Scrambling out of it while you laughed and giggled with him. The both of you doing your best to be quiet so Mayday wouldn't wake up.

You ran for the bedroom. Feet pattering against the wooden floor while he did the same. Shutting the door behind himself before he pulled you in for a kiss that he craved. One that you both craved, really.

"I know you're wearing it," he spoke against your lips. Pulling the string of your bath robe so it would fall open. He was quick to pull back so he could see your frame better. "You still like it?" You asked, and he was quick to nod. His fingers running up your sides to your breasts. Giving them both a light squeeze with a groan. "Baby, I never want you to take it off," he chuckled, and you both knew that was a lie. By the end of the night he'd have it ripped off you and in a pile on the floor.

His lips came in contact with your neck. Fiery touches that you would never get used to. Your own powers were controlled by the sun, yet this heat was always so unfamiliar to you. So nice.

"Peter," you sighed as he sucked on your skin. Your body jolting when his fingers pinched your nipples through your bra. "You're so gorgeous, you know that?" He asked against your skin. Licking over your collar bone. You chuckled with a nod, "You tell me all the time," "Yeah, well I don't say it damn near enough." You rolled your eyes at his comment, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, and I don't tell you how good of a boy you are for me enough, either," he let out a grumble of a moan against your skin. It was so easy to rile him up, you loved it.

"May I?" You asked, ghosting your fingertips over his shaft, and he nodded. "Words, Peter," you demanded, and he shuddered. "Yes... Yeah, please," he mewled, and you snickered. He was already a mess.

You shrugged the robe off, allowing it to fall to the floor to give his hands more access to your skin. Your hand quick to reach between your lovers legs and grab him. Giving him a slow stroke before stopping to squeeze the base. His head fell onto your shoulder. A sigh leaving his lips while he gripped your hips.

"I need you," he called, "God, I need you so bad, don't tease me," he cried a little, and you had half a mind to listen, but you didn't want to. You had other plans for the night. You wanted to draw out this time you both had together for as long as you could.

"No," you purred, and the whine that he let out was heavenly. "Now, don't pout, Petey," you purred, "be a good boy for me and I'll reward you," he nodded frantically. He just wanted you to carry on and do something. Anything.

When you started to drop to your knees he felt his heart stutter in his chest. Everywhere your hands grazed as you slid down to the floor was on fire. At this point he couldn't tell if it was from his excitement, or if you were doing it yourself.

Your hand stroked his shaft a couple more times. Peter watching with excited eyes. His thighs shaking while he fought the urge to thrust forward.

"You can touch me, Peter," you told him, and he nodded. His shaky hands coming to tangle in your hair. One staying on the top of your head while the other came to cup the side of your face.

"Will you be good?" You asked, and he nodded. "I know you will," you hummed, kissing his hip. Listening to the moan that left his throat just from having your lips so close to where he wanted you the most. He craved you to the point that it hurt.

When you did finally reach his cock, the noise he made was unreal. Your eyes darting up to his with warning. One of his hands shot up to cover his mouth. A soft 'sorry, my love,' falling from his lips. He truly didn't mean to be as loud as he was. He could never help it. He prayed that one day the two of you could find a babysitter for Mayday so neither of you had to hold back as much as you both did.

Your head bobbed and he felt his knees shaking all ready. His brow knitting together while his chest began to heave. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were like an angel. On your knees, committing sin. The thought made him shudder. A hum rumbling from his chest while his head lolled to the side. "Feels so... Good," he purred, and you hummed in response. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure through his body. Both hands shooting to the top of your head so he could stable himself. His mouth slightly parted while his vision grew blurry from the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

"God, like that, shit," he spewed out words. You knew he was close, even if you couldn't sense it like he could sense your own approaching orgasms. You would know from how many times you've made him cum in your relationship.

You didn't allow him to, though. Another groan leaving his lips while he buckled forward. His hips thrusting forward a little in an attempt to chase your mouth. "Dammit, I was so close," he slurred, and you chuckled. Leaving an open mouthed kiss on the side of his cock. "I know, and you did so good for me baby," you purred, and he whined. He had such mixed feelings for your praising tease. He loved it, but he also despised it.

"How about I reward you now?" You asked, looking up to your lover with a grin. He was quick to nod in agreement. Licking his lips while he waited anxiously for what you had to say next.

"You wanna fill me up tonight?" "You have no idea," he practically growled. The sound of his voice. The switch from whiny to damn near feral. It went straight to your core. Your breath hitching as he helped pull you to your feet. Pushing you back until you were on the bed.

He fell on top of you. Caging your body with his own. Something seemed to snap in his eyes and it excited you more than taking control over him. It wasn't often that you let him be in complete control, but right now. All you could think of is what he had said in the tub.

"You still want your head between my thighs?" You asked, and his eyes were quick to meet yours again. A smirk pulling at his lips while he stared down at you. "I'd live there if I could, baby," you both chuckled a little at this, but you both knew it was true, too. There were some mornings that you'd wake up to his head between your thighs. Eating you like you were his last meal on earth. He'd just give you head if you'd let him. He never really expected anything in return from you.

He lips crashed down onto yours. A kiss that had you both gasping for air when he was done. Teeth on teeth that led to his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands were on their own mission. Scaling your body. Taking in every dip and curve that you had. Memorizing you like he did every other time he touched you. If he didn't have any other responsibilities, he could stay in this position with you forever. Touching your body while kissing you with fervor.

One of his hands cupped your breast. The other resting on your thigh. His lips finally parting from yours with a string of saliva still connecting you both. A smug and dreamy smile on his face. "I love you," he hummed, and you giggled. "I love you, too," you told him, and his smile grew. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you.

His lips trailed over the top of your breasts. Kissing and sucking. Leaving little marks on the soft skin. His hand on your thigh sliding up your body so he could take both of your breasts in his hands. Squeezing and toying with your sensitive mounds of flesh. Your back arching with soft noises that left your throat. Every sound that you made only fed his ego more than it did before.

His mouth replaced one of his hands. Mouthing over the thin fabric that his your nipples from the air. Saliva wetting your skin through the fabric. A sharp inhale coming from you when he nipped your sensitive skin. Your fingers gripping his shoulders while he teased your body. He knew what drove you crazy. Just like you knew what drove him crazy.

His free hand trailed down to your panties. His hand cupping your sex with a moan. He could feel how hot you were down there and it drove him wild. His middle and index finger running over your mound. Feeling how wet you were through the fabric of the lingerie. It was intoxicating him. Just as much as his touch was intoxicating you.

His mouth switched over to your other breast. Biting the flesh while he pushed your panties to the side to slip his middle finger inside of you. A gasp leaving your throat while you tugged at his hair. "Pete!" you snapped, and he grunted, "'M sorry, you're just so good," he moaned against your skin. His now free hand reaching behind you to undo the bra that kept him from your bare skin. Gibing him the chance to abuse your nipples without the fabric in the way. Though, it didn't last long before his mouth was trailing down your stomach. Leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Once he met your clothed sex with his face he felt himself growing impatient. Nudging your clothed clit with his nose. "You're so pretty like this," he sounded drunk. He practically was. Anytime he had sex he was. He was intoxicated by you. You were his perfect drug.

His fingers hooked your underwear. Pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. Peter blew on your sex. Keeping your legs apart with his strong grip. "Stay still for me, please," he asked, looking up with pleading eyes. Though there was a hint of command behind them that had you clenching around nothing. You only nodded your head in agreement, which had him smiling.

He was quick to get to work. Licking up your slit. Your breath hitching while your fingers tangled in his hair. His hips bucking down into the bed to try and gather some sort of friction for himself.

He licked at your sensitive bud. Licking and sucking until you were squirming and on the verge of tears. Biting the back of your hand to hold back the cries that tried to bleed from your mouth.

"Taste so good," he rambled. Reaching a hand down to push two fingers inside you. Curling them up, then dragging them out. Slipping the digits past his lips to take a taste. Moaning around his fingers before slipping them out. "Heavenly," he sighed, before diving in once again. Lapping you up like a dog.

It wasn't long before you were summing on his tongue. You told him you were close, but he knew. Only abusing your clit until you were convulsing underneath him. If it weren't for you pushing his head away, he would have made you cum again, too.

"Peter, please," you cried, and he looked up from between your legs. "Just one more time," he tried to plea. Leaning down to lick your clit again. Your body jolting at the overstimulating feeling. "Peter, if you aren't inside me in the next ten seconds I swear to God," you snapped, and he smirked. "All right, all right," he chuckled, kissing your stomach before pulling himself up so he was positioned between your thighs.

He moved above you for a moment or two. Just staring down at you with those adoring eyes. You hated how he looked at you sometimes. It made your heart ache and wish that you had met him sooner than you had. He always made you feel so special and so loved.

"I want another kid," he blurted, "Maybe a little boy, he could have your eyes," he daydreamed out loud, and you nearly laughed. Yet, you couldn't. You only stared back up at him. Hearts practically in your eyes while you reached up to cup the sides of his face. "Only if he has your smile," he chuckled at your words. Leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his. "Is that a yes to baby number two?" He snickered, reaching down to rub your stomach. He was obsessed with you, and he couldn't get over the thought of you carrying another one of his kids. He was already crazy for you, but seeing you pregnant with his child? It did things to him, and you knew it, too. He wasn't shy about it.

"You like being a mommy?" He hummed, and you nodded, "Only for you," you chuckled, and he snickered. "You're a good one too. So loving, caring, rewarding," he winked with the last word, and you rolled your eyes. Swatting his chest. "Peter," he shrugged. "You are, I'm glad you are, too. Mommy. It's a good title for you," He cooed, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Peter, it's been over ten seconds," you reminded him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Bringing your hips up to meet his. The both of you shuddering at the friction. "All right," he sighed out, but instead of pressing himself inside of you like you wanted. He pulled away from you. A frown settling on your lips. "What?" "Hands and knees, now," you stared for a second. It never ceased to surprise you when he ordered you around, but you never really complained about it either.

Once you were maneuvered around he was quick to pull you closer to him by your hips. Leaning down to kiss the dip of your back. "Gonna fill you full," he murmured against your skin, rubbing the tip of his dick along the slit of your sex.

"Shit, Peter," you wined, leaning down to lay the side of your face on the bed. Peter let out a moan at the position you put yourself in. Ass in the air, face in the sheets. You were gorgeous.

He hushed you, biting his lip while putting his fingers against your lips. You sucked them into your mouth and he swore it was one of the hottest things you've done.

When he pressed inside of you, you both fought to stay quiet. Peter was practically falling apart above you. The thought of fucking a baby into you had him harder than he had expected. His hips giving a few testing rolls to make sure you were wet enough. Only moving when you gave a nod.

His thrusts were slow at first. Rolling against you with rhythm. Until they weren't. Until you begged him to move fasted and he had to listen to you.

Both of his hands were on your hips now. His own hips thrusting in and out of you at a past that had your whole body trembling. You pawed and gripped at the sheets. One of his hands keeping hold of your hip while the other reached for one of your hands. Intertwining his fingers with your own. Even while he was fucking you dumb he showed so much affection for you. It was almost overwhelming.

Peter leant over you. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade while he panted and moaned in your ear. The sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. The faster he got the further you got smothered into the bed. He was chasing that high that the both of you craved. When he felt his approaching, he was quick to reach between your thighs to rub your clit with the speed of his thrusts. Bringing the both of you to the highs that you desired. His hips slowing while he rolled out his orgasm and rubbed out your own.

Peter lay limp above you. His chest heaving on top of your back. One hand running up and down your side while the other squeezed and rubbed at your hand.

"One more?" He asked, and you chuckled. "Your libido's too high for your own good, Peter," you sighed, and he chuckled. Pulling out of you which caused the both of you to groan with distaste. "I'm not hearing a no?" He questioned with a brow raised. Helping you roll onto your back. "One more," you told him with a nod, and he grinned. "Maybe two?" "Pete, don't push it," you giggled, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Peter laughing into the kiss he gave you.

[liquidluckandstuff]

Spooky Themed Stories for Bedtime

-- all written by Liquidluckandstuff

Heartbreaking Confession

Summary:

After the war, Harry visits Voldemort's grave after a bad day with a Mind Healer. He confesses something he is too scared to tell even his closest friends. - oneshot

This story I think would be more spooky to Harrymort / tomarry readers (my main audience) in that death is the finality. There is no happy ending. Voldemort is dead, and buried in the ground and just like Harry you as the reader might feel a certain way about that.

I like this story because it was one of the first things I had ever written that made me tear up. Also has some GREAT artwork by @leafiloaf and just the last image with the rotting hand in the coffin gives me goosebumps (as well as makes me wanna cry)

Link to art

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Death and Naps

Summary:

Harry and Voldemort are trapped in a room full of reapers. Voldemort is too terrified to move leaving Harry to play the hero. He protects them both by hiding them away inside a coffin. Now he just has to keep Voldemort calm while he protects them both. Hopefully, it won't be too difficult. - oneshot

art link - by @00queasy00

This one is a little creepy... well it's creepy for Voldemort. He is trapped in a room full of reapers with only Harry to save him. Harry has the ability to actually use his "love shield" but only knows how to use it when he is a sort of sleepy state.

I loved this idea, and have 0 clue where to go with it. I really really hope it goes somewhere someday. It's in my back pocket.

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He lives at the End

Summary:

When hArry falls off his broom during his summer vacation at the burrow, his friends start acting a little strange after. hermione Keeps rEading books UPside down, ron Won’t remember his fAvorite quidditch team, and the twins are Keeping a strangE secret. Until he figures out the mystery, he will just have to Pretend everything is normal.

This was my first attempt at an actual horror story.

I tried for the build up, I tried for the secret message (can you find it in the summary? ;) ) but unfortunately this story never actually went anywhere. But it is very near and dear to my heart. I LOVE how Harry gets so close to the thing he always wanted and it is just RIPPED from him and he is flung back into the ACTUAL Horror (reality) which is.... a common theme i realise in my writing.

Harry's reality is the horror of his situation 😭

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The Only Thing They Ever Feared

Summary:

James and Lily were hit by the famous killing curse. Except they find out the horrible truth. It doesn't actually kill you. Not really.

Wow man this one is my first "marauders" fic in that it's not about Harry at all and only about James and Lily (jily for life <3)

What if the killing curse didn't actually kill you? What if it only made it LOOK like you were dead? You could see and hear and feel everything but you were powerless to do anything about it.

Now think about what James and Lily experienced right up until the point they were buried (alive).

This one had been on my mind for a while and I had finally got an excuse to write it in an event with a bunch of my marauders friends <3

[sharksscripting]

The High Lord and The Courtier: Chapter Two | Eris

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.1k

—

Eris watches as Beron—his father and current High Lord of the Autumn Court—slams his fists down on the long, white, quartz table. His flames swarm around him as his hands meet the smoothed rock.

"The boy is a threat to our court! I want him dead!" The Lord shouts at his court members.

Drax—the General of all Armies in the Autumn Court—stares blankly, he has never liked Beron. He was well over a thousand years old and was General for almost all of them. He was around when Beron's own father was the High Lord, Drax has never liked Beron, he much rather preferred Eris, and the heir chose to use that to his ability.

Eris sends a glance Drax's way, the General nods.

"Father, it would be reckless to send an assassin if that is what you are thinking. They would fail with the amount of wards protecting the Night Court." Beron's eyes snap over to his son, sharp and narrow, calculating. Eris continues. "Think about it, if we send someone and they fail I have no doubt that there will be a war."

"There will be a war with or without the child!" The High Lord snaps, the boom of his voice filling the room. "I want him dead." His eyes look over to their courts spymaster—Bryn was his name if Eris remembered correctly, he wasn't very good at his job but he supported Beron's every move so Beron chose to keep him close.

"Of course, My Lord." Bryn stands, he bows before heading out of the war room.

Beron sits back down in his chair, his flames snapping around his body—radiating his power in a threatening manner. Eris didn't flinch.

"Son." His dead, amber eyes look over to Eris. "Dungeon, now." Beron demands.

He knew this part was coming, every single time the High Lord was furious he took it out on his heir, it has been going on for nearly four hundred years, Beron didn't mask it as lessons anymore, no, he knew it was torture, and so did Eris.

The heir and High Lord make it to the cellar, in a second Eris is pushed to his knees, he doesn't flinch.

"I want to hear you, son." Beron raises his hand, his flames ignite Eris' clothes, burning everything off of him except his boxers. The ash covered his arms and legs before it fell off him by a jolt. Beron struck his son with his ignited whip.

But again, Eris didn't flinch. He took the pain as his father drew back the thick, rough leather band. The fire hit his back again, digging into the already scarred skin, well, it was. However, Beron never let Eris show that, he forced his son to glamour the injured flesh.

The High Lord raises his hand again, this time there was another weapon in hand. Now he holds a black blade, it was made of pure ash. Something that could kill any fae if they hit the right spot. Beron steps closer to his son, trailing the dagger against his spin before slashing two cuts under each of his shoulder blades. Eris bites his tongue as the blade moves to his stomach, cutting a new wound directly across the skin.

"I said I want you to scream, Eris." He snaps, his fist connects with his left shoulder blade, the blood from the wound covers the High Lord's clenched hand and slowly drips to the dirt floor of the dungeon, Eris thinks that if it were wooden the floors would be rotted by now.

Eris kept his mouth shut, if he were to retort something he would only be in the dark, cold room for longer. A worse punishment. If there was one thing that Eris loved more than anything it was the sunlight, and Beron knew that.

The session continued until Beron finally got bored of Eris resisting to make a sound, but, before he left he stated that if Eris were to see a healer for closing the wounds the next lesson would only be worse.

Eris shrugged off his warning, he knew how to stitch up himself. It was something he has just accepted, something he taught himself to do so he wouldn't have to be in pain with leaking wounds for weeks.

Their heir manages to get back to his room without anyone stopping him, not that anyone would in the palace anyway.

He pushes open his bedroom door and is instantly welcomed by the aroma, petrichor and campfire scents fill the room. Eris shuts the door behind him before walking to a cabinet, he reaches out his hand to open the door of it when something moves out of the corner of his eyes.

Eris halts, he looks over to see whatever moved but what he was met with was unexpected. Now before him is the Night Court's spymaster's shadows. They swarm his room before moving back to Eris, they grab everything needed to patch himself up before ushering Eris to sit down, confused, the heir complies.

The ginger sits down on his king-sized bed, the maroon sheets perfectly made before his weight moves them. The dark clouds hand him the equipment, setting the bin of human healing items beside him on the bed.

"Did the Shadowsinger send you?" Eris whispers as he begins to apply some of the paste in the jar that was in the basket.

The shadows move as if to tell him 'sort of'. The dark clouds pick up another healing liquid and hand it to Eris, reluctantly, he accepts and applies it to his injuries.

"Thank you."

The shadows make a nodding motion before grabbing the long, white bandages. They swarm around Eris' back and stomach, fixing the cloths around the Autumn Court's heir.

"Why are you helping me, shadows?" Eris asks quietly, if he spoke any louder he was sure he would break down.

They make a shrug motion, Eris doesn't believe they don't know however, he doesn't push it.

"What does Shadowsinger want?" The heir questions.

The dark clouds motion to his wounds. Eris looks confused but soon realizes.

"For my father?" The shadows nod. "Does the Night Court know of the threat he has made?" Once again, the dark clouds nod. "What... what can I do to help?" Eris asks.

The shadows swarm around his forearms, as if holding him securely.

"Alright... can I help?"

The dark clouds nod.

"Will I have to kill him?" Eris mumbles.

The shadows shake their body before they move around Eris' room again, they begin to look for something. They move up to Eris' shelf, a display of different weapons. The dark clouds grab an ash blade off of the shelf.

Eris halts. "Are you going to kill him?" The shadows stay still for a moment before Eris speaks again. "You are a fool, Azriel."

The shadows don't make another gesture before vanishing into the hallway of the Autumn Court's palace, leaving Eris alone in a dark space once again. But Eris doesn't listen to the dark clouds, he follows them.

[txxfiles]

writing

hhhhhhhhhhhh.

I’m struggling with my feelings towards my passions atm. Nothing new in all fairness, but this month is starting to put things into perspective in a way that feels like a tonne of boulders falling upon my head.

I finished university in august and graduated in december with a first class honours which i worked really fucking hard for. but i’ve done nothing since. the idea of sitting down in front of my laptop and planning out a new idea is so incredibly daunting to me i don’t know how to put it into words.

one of my friends i went to uni with gave me a gentle (ish) lecture on becoming more disciplined. apparently motivation doesn’t exist, you just have to be disciplined. i don’t know how to discipline myself, i would love someone else to do it for me in both senses if u catch my drift. he then compared me to a car, saying i need someone to jump start me and then i would be away and as much as that made me laugh, he’s right. that monologue from fleabag came to mind, the one where she says how she just wants someone to tell her what to do, that’s me. i don’t know how to make myself do stuff, especially if it’s something i know will be difficult. i don’t know why and i don’t know how to stop but that’s the way it’s always been. uni was great because i had people around me doing the same stuff and a level of responsibility to the school and myself to get shit done to the best of my ability. it was also very expensive so that helped. that was the motivation. i didn’t need to discipline myself because i knew i could do it. so, where do i stand now? there’s no one here to tell me to do something or give me a level of responsibility to something to make me work. it’s just me. me and my rapidly failing mental health and my shitty job that i hate. why would i want to do anything other than rot in my bed all day on my days off?

but i do want to do it, that’s the problem. i love writing, it’s one of my favourite things to do. i used to do it all the time. like literally every night i would be writing something new. i don’t do that anymore and i don’t know why. i was writing fan fiction about whatever i was hyper fixated on at the time but i don’t even have a hyper fixation atm so there’s nothing their either!!!

writing comes easy to me in a way that i don’t quite understand. we had a lesson at uni where we talked about our writing processes and i got embarrassed because i don’t have one. i have an idea i like and i write it. that’s it. it sounds like a cop out and a lie, but it’s true and i got shit from other people in my class about it (not that i care) but hearing other people talk about the planning and extensive research they do into their projects made me feel ashamed for not working that way. not working harder i guess. which is mad because everyone is different and no two people work the same but it feels shameful to have something come so easy to you when some people work so so hard to achieve the same thing. its weird, feeling embarrassed for being good at something. probably because i’m not super good at many things and i know the others will tell me different but i’m not putting myself down i’m just saying i’ve been average at everything my whole life except for a couple things that i’m very good at so, being in a room of people who all wanna do the same thing as you and being at the top of the class pretty consistently and having people tell you you’re good at something is such a foreign concept to me that the fact i also can just do it without planning feels like a cop out.

and now i have no structure, no one to give me tasks and no one to hold me accountable for my actions and i’m stuck. it sounds like i’m trying to push responsibility onto someone else but i’m not i just don’t know HOW to get to the point where i love doing it again. i wanna write something great and be successful and fall in love with it again but i can’t find the strength to slap myself on the ass and do it. doing this is helping, the blog writing is fun and i’m enjoying it a lot so that’s a start.

it feels superficial, why not just do it i hear you scream in my face but trust me i would if i fucking could. i’m sat here with one of the shows that made me wanna go into screenwriting playing in the background and thinking damn maybe one day i’ll write something this good. but i won’t if i can’t FUCKING START.

i’m at my parents this week and have been sorting through old stuff of mine and found a load of old school stuff and every single thing is average, every grade, every letter from school, every silly little award slip is average. i don’t do well in academic settings, i’m aware of this and my strengths lie in other things which is great. sure i get confused about stuff that comes easy to others but i can do stuff those people can’t with ease. we had a conversation about intelligence the other week that shook me to my core because the way i view intelligence is so wildly different from my friends that i was genuinely confused. i don’t think i’m smart because i’m not academic but that’s simply not true. intelligence comes in many different forms which is very hard to wrap my head around. especially at my age and having been told i’m not smart my whole life. it feels even more relevant at the moment because i’m struggling to do one of the things i’m good at. which sucks. especially being with my family and being reminded of the fact i’m the only creative going into a creative industry whilst everyone else is in their safe secure jobs doing better than me when they’re all younger than me. it’s clear they all quietly think i made a mistake going to uni and leaving my old career behind, but i’m so so glad i did it, even if i’m stuck at the moment.

i really needed to vent. i don’t know how to talk about this to anyone.

i’m a very unmotivated person, partially because my enthusiasm for being alive is so low so why do things to help myself progress in life when i don’t want to live it.

wow this went dark lmao. can someone jump start my battery for me please. no? ok. i’ll figure out how to do it myself some day.

in the words of charli xcx, lets ride.

love,

eucalyptus

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 10

A/N: Well, here we are. We get explanations, more questions, and lots of just fun stuff in between. Oh! And Mando’a. (Translations at the bottom.) We have some show dialogue again, but not too much. Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes into the first part of episode 2x4/12, The Siege.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Space swearing. Mando’a. 

Word count: 10,045

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar​ for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

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Xxx

Bathed in a purple glow, you stared wide eyed at the beam of light as it stood proudly before you. The whispering had stopped, nothing swirled at the back of your mind, there was nothing left to taunt you. ….Except what you had seen in flashbacks.

Brown eyes stared back at you, soft and kind, long before they ever swore a creed or made a promise to stay hidden. Now they haunted you, teasing you with something you’d never see again, playing on a loop behind your eyelids every time you blinked.

How had you seen that?

In all your years reading any and all information you could get your hands on about the Jedi and their training, you had encountered things that came about rarely, some people having particularly strong powers and the ability to see things when touching an object, but that was things tied to that object.

Looking to the hilt in your hand, you disengaged the saber, the silence of the room surrounding you as the gentle hum stopped. Bringing it closer to your face to inspect in the dim light, you could find no reason this saber was connected to the memory of Din. And in the memory of the child, there had been no purple glow defending him, though you had been in the Jedi temple, but that connection was loose if any.

You’d heard stories of younglings and their journeys into the kyber caves in search of the crystals to power their weapons. They would call out to the young Jedi, test them, torment them even. That all made sense with what you had gone through. This wasn’t your hell, it was your test. Though it could be argued they were one and the same, you thought smugly, you decided to look at it as a passing of a trial, a success.

Staring into the dark recesses of the closet absently, your eyes darted all around as you searched your mind for any sliver of information that might help.

You scrunched your eyes tight, hand darting up to cradle your forehead as a wave of pain washed over you, throbbing behind your eyes. Clutching the hilt tightly in your other hand, your new leather gloves creaked against the metal. Moaning softly, you tried to focus when voices started to fade into your consciousness, a fuzzy version of reality slotting into view behind your eyelids.

You didn’t recognize anything. Not the space, not the people, nor the time. Was this the future? Was it the past? Was it happening right now?

Then you saw him.

You saw Din, looking exactly like he had when he walked out of this closet however long ago, time an abstract concept when you were lost in these visions. Other Mandalorians. Voices you didn’t recognize. Everything got sharp, clear, as if you were there with him, except something that laid at his feet. Something small and black laid on the ground and blurred when you tried to look at it like your eyes were bleary with sleep. No matter how much you blinked or rubbed your eyes, it still stayed hidden from your view.

Sucking in a sharp breath when you realized what words had been exchanged, you blinked and the closet came back into view, as if you’d never left.

Pushing the glimpse of a possible future out of your mind for later, you rolled your shoulders back, massaging your temples as the pain dissipated. Turning to the kid, you saw him wide awake, staring at you with curious eyes, his head tilted in that very Din-like way, making you smile.

“Hey, little one. When did you wake up?”

You made your way back over to the crate you had been seated on, lowering back down until you sat cross legged in front of him. His eyes landed on the saber, and he let out a soft squeak in question before he looked back up at you.

“Ah, so you’ve seen my new toy, huh?” You held it out slightly for him to see better. “You know what this is, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. His little head straightened in answer as he held your gaze.

A sad smile found its way up your face. “I saw what you went through on your last day at the temple, kid.” His ears drooped at your soft words. “I’m so sorry. That must have been so scary.”

One of his little three clawed hands reached out toward you, and you met him in the middle, only one of your fingers fitting in his grasp. His eyes fluttered shut, and suddenly you were back there, but you were seeing everything from his perspective.

You saw the troopers, the Jedi fall, then suddenly a shadow overhead. His gaze drifted up to find the source, and your breath caught in your chest when you were staring into your own eyes. You were wearing the clothes you had on now. The saber in your hand was on your hip along with your blaster and knife that glinted with the fresh mudhorn. Your beskar. But how? You quit pondering the how, just grateful it was when a sense of peace washed over you from the child, a sense of relief and protection.

You had done that.

You had covered him, sheltered him, and made him feel safe decades ago, before the two of you even knew the other existed.

The vision faded, the dim light of the closet coming back into view, and you swiped at an errant tear tracking down your face.

The child released your finger, smiling up at you as he blinked heavy eyes slowly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the side of your mouth quirking up.

“I don’t understand any of this, but I think that’s the point.” You rose to your feet with a sigh. “Does it ever get any easier, kid?” He squawked in what you took as a ‘no’, making you chuckle. “Gee, thanks. I can’t wait.”

Scooping him up, you fastened the saber onto your hip, closed up the bag you’d come in with, and slung it over your shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see if we can find your dad. This place is making me claustrophobic.”

The child let out a little squeak.

“I’ll keep you safe. If anyone tries anything,” you lifted your arm up like you had seen Din do many times, grinning, “I’ll roast ‘em.”

Xxx

Din POV

“Easy. Easy.”

This had been one big kriffing disaster.

The controls of the ship rattled in his hands, shaking like it wanted to burst apart at the seams. Pulling up with a firm hand, glancing to his side to make sure Reeves was doing the same, Din focused back out the viewport, watching the surface of the water careen closer.

At the last possible second the ship stabilized, pulling up to just skim over the surface of the water, beginning it’s ascent once again at a gradual incline.

Panting, Din released the controls, stretching his hands out as far as they would go, fingers spread wide. He’d had some close calls in the Crest before, but he doesn’t think any have ever had him gripping the controls that tightly.

Reaching out he presses a few buttons on the control panel as a soft alarm still blares about their low altitude, faintly registering Bo-Katan talking to the Imp in the corner. Suddenly the sound of electricity crackles through the air, and he whips his head around to find the source, only to see the Imp convulsing and falling to the floor motionless.

Suicide capsule.

He narrowed his eyes at the Mandalorian who had held a blade to the captain's neck and spoken in harsh whispers. What had she said?

“We have to go. He sent a distress signal,” Reeves said.

“Clear the atmosphere and prepare to jump.” Bo-Katan sounded upset, glancing down to the Imp one more time.

That was Din’s cue. Rising to his feet, he walked brusquely toward the exit of the cockpit.

“Are you sure you won’t join us?”

Bo-Katan’s voice at his back made him pause. There had been a time when all he’d wanted was to find more Mandalorians, coverts. More of his kind. But now…. Now he wanted nothing more than to find the Jedi for his foundling. To do right by you, by the kid. By his clan.

Turning back to face her, he kept his voice even and calm, despite how frustrated he was with her for all the things she’d pulled once aboard the ship. “There’s something I need to do.”

“The offer stands if you change your mind.” She hesitated. “Your little warrior didn’t seem to know the true significance of the blade she carried.”

“That’s not your-”

“As a woman and a Mandalorian, I think I hold an authority on the subject. Tell her. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t forge the blade, technically-”

“Technically nothing. Get your helmet on straight and just tell her already.” She tilted her head at him curiously, her voice softening further. “If you’re worried she doesn’t feel the same, I can assure you, you’re wrong.”

Din sighed, changing the subject. “Where can I find the Jedi?”

The mechanism hissed as she removed her helmet, holding it under one arm. “Take the foundling to the city of Calodan on the forest planet of Corvus. There you will find Ahsoka Tano. Tell her you were sent by Bo-Katan. And thank you. Your bravery will not be forgotten. This is the Way.”

Din nodded once, his voice cracking slightly. “This is the Way.”

As he strode out a side door, the wind whipping his cape around violently, he only had one thing on his mind. He had to get back.

Not even hesitating when he reached the railing, he took it in one hand, planting his right leg firmly and pushing off the edge into a free fall, his jet pack activating after a few seconds.

The dull city came into view below him as he passed through the clouds, and he accelerated slightly at the sight.

He had people waiting for him.

Xxx

Regular POV

You’d quickly realized you would need to conceal the lightsaber on your hip as you made your way from the inn. You didn’t see people looking at you directly, but you could feel stares following after you.

Slinging a satchel over your shoulders so it would cover the weapon, you tucked the kid into the little makeshift seat as added coverage, looking down into his bright eyes as they sparked with mischief, his gaze boring into your own. If you had to guess, he was saying something like, Understood. Mission accepted. He turned to look at the people passing by curiously, letting out soft coos as you went.

Finding a small market nearby, you found a stall that had a lightweight cape, flowy and breathable. With multiple shades of grey flecked together into one material, it resembled the overcast skies above. It came just above your knees in the front, dipping a little lower in the back, and had a spacious hood. You debated finding a robe with actual sleeves, but decided against it at the thought of your new vambraces. You chuckled under your breath, softly shaking your head as you pictured the smug tone Din would have as he said, “I told you so,” his arms most likely crossed over his chest as you both stared down at the smoking remains of a robe with sleeves that nearly cooked you alive with it.

Rolling your eyes, you paid for the cape, grabbing the other robe on principle - it could be altered, you justified to yourself, plus, the likelihood that something was going to catch fire at some point made you want to prepare just in case - and stuffing it into the satchel with the kid after you paid for it.

Ducking into a little alley, you pulled the bag off your shoulders, setting it on a crate, and pulled on the cape, feeling much better once you knew the saber was concealed. Throwing the satchel back on, you went back out on the main roadway, still getting the feeling that people stared at you as you passed by, almost keeping a wider berth from you than usual.

Reaching up to touch your cheek, you knit your eyebrows. “Do I have something on my face, kid?” You arched a brow as you looked down at him, chuckling at the squeal he sent your way. A glint caught your eye, and you looked down, realizing it was your beskar catching a brief ray of sun as the clouds broke for just a moment.

Realization dawned on you. People were staring at the beskar. They were avoiding the person wearing it. Your face melted into something neutral, your mouth beginning to curve downward as the thought kept circling your mind. Is this what Din felt like all the time?

Shaking your head at yourself, you strode towards the edge of the dock, the large ship Din was on high in the sky above. Leaning against a light pole, you kept your eyes on it, opening a ration pack for the kid and handing him pieces absently.

You felt the stares grow, the envy of some clouding underneath. Others feared you, while most were just curious. Darting your eyes around, you began to feel paranoid, and anger began to roll just under your skin. Why can’t they just mind their own business?

You didn't even realize you were doing it until the light on top of the pole at your back burst, making you and everyone in the vicinity duck away, hands rising overhead protectively, turning to look up as sparks rained down.

No. Not again.

The raw surge of power had flown from you to the closest nearby source, overwhelming it instantly. You winced as another small flash of sparks erupted before falling to the dock below. Glancing around, people were lowering their hands, approaching cautiously and staring up at the light in bewilderment.

Brushing your palms down the front of your cape, you tried to mimic their curious looks before ushering the kid a few feet to the side where you leaned on some large crates. Slumping back against them with a huff, you closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to center yourself before it could happen again.

You’d read some documents once upon a time from deep in the belly of Coruscant’s black market on the various colors of kyber crystals and what they meant for the wielder. Some represented strength, others wisdom, but purple, purple was rare and sometimes a topic of dissent, as its glow represented both that of strength and the dark side. It could be argued that it indicated one was truly balanced within the Force, both light and dark choosing to coincide in one blade, but it often indicated one had a soul of conflict.

Opening your eyes to stare at the large ship that contained your Mandalorian as it cruised through the sky, your mind continued to wander.

You’d never had this conflict before, this tug of the dark side pulling so strongly on you. The only thing you could figure was the crystal was trying to speak to you, manifesting in ways you wish it wouldn’t. You felt slightly better, knowing it wasn’t just you that was suddenly having lapses, but rather an outside force just trying to be heard. You could work with that.

The ship suddenly started to dive, making you push off the crates behind you and stand up straight. You faintly registered the child letting out a questioning squeal from the satchel as you walked to the edge of the dock, staring at the large vessel. A band seemed to tighten around your chest the closer to the water it got, and you weren’t even breathing when it pulled up at the last second, mere feet between it and the water.

You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering shut in relief when it started to ascend again, the child beginning to babble from the bag at your hip. Moments later you saw a glint as something shiny flew off the side of the ship, the signature trail of a jet pack soon following behind it, making you smile.

Soon, Din landed on the dock beside you with a gentle thump, his momentum carrying him forward the last few steps left between you, closing the distance quickly. He stood so close that you were sure a deep breath would be enough to bring you together. Your head tilted back to look up into the dark T of his visor as he looked down at you.

“Hi,” you said softly, smile trying to fight its way up your face.

“Hi,” he echoed, his tone light. Reaching out after a moment, he pinched the fabric of your new cape between his index finger and thumb, rolling it back and forth slowly. “This is new.”

You nodded, looking down to his hand as you swallowed roughly, suddenly feeling nervous to tell him what you’d found. “Had to get something to cover this.” Lifting the edge back just enough to show him the saber on your hip, he took a step back to look, his head tilting to the side as he stared at it.

Looking around you noticed people starting to pay attention to the beskar again, so you grabbed his hand, dragging him into the alley you had ducked into to put your cloak on. It was small and narrow, and didn’t leave much space between the two of you, but that wasn’t any different from how you had been standing on the dock with loads of space all around.

“What is that?” Din asks, staring down at the spot where your saber was safely concealed.

“It’s a lightsaber. A Jedi’s weapon.”

“How-”

“It’s a long story,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your forehead to rub in frustration.

“We’ve got time,” he said softly, leaning his back against the wall opposite you, letting out his own sigh as he did.

You let your hand fall back to your side with a slap as it hit your thigh. “This isn’t exactly information for a dim alleyway, Mando.”

He didn’t respond, his visor just leveled on you expectantly.

“Let’s wait until we’re on the Crest-”

He let out an agitated huff as he pushed off the wall, grabbing your wrist and beginning to exit the alley.

You dug your feet in, making him jerk to a stop, turning to look at you. “Where are we going? The ship won’t be done for a few hours yet….”

Closing the distance between you, he pulled you close, his forehead coming to rest against yours in a gesture you were coming to understand meant more to him than simply what he had said. It was intimate, yes, but it was also a way of grounding you both. You weren’t even sure he knew he was doing it. But it worked like a charm.

“Do you trust me, mesh’la?”

You groaned. “I hate conversations that start like this.” He chuckled. “Why do you smell like smoke and explosives?” He was silent. “Wait. Never mind,” you rolled your eyes before looking up into his visor through your lashes, the beskar still cool against your forehead.

“Let’s go see our temporary passenger and her newest family member. We can talk there while they watch the kid. Whatever happened obviously has you on edge-”

“How did you know-”

“I know you.”

Your hands found their way up into his cowl like they had been before he left, twisting the material tightly in your fists, your eyes studying the weave of the material.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes swiftly flying shut before any of the tears that suddenly started clouding your vision fell.

“Come on, cyar’ika.”

Pulling away slowly, you both exchanged a look, the corner of your mouth darting up just slightly before you followed him out of the alley, hand firmly held in his as he led you down the dock toward the Frog Lady’s house.

Xxx

“And that’s how I ended up with this,” you concluded with a sigh, flipping the lightsaber in the air and catching it in your hand. Relaxing further into the wall at your back, you stared at the hilt in your palm before lifting your gaze up to Din’s visor.

Tentatively he held out his hand in a silent request to hold it. Leaning forward slightly, you placed it gently in his glove covered grip before collapsing the few inches back into the wall. He studied it intently from his spot across from you, looking almost comical, his large frame in the tight living quarters.

“And you’re going to keep it?”

You stared at him slack jawed for a moment. “Of course I’m going to keep it! It called to me, the kyber crystal inside that saber called to me, and made me endure the weirdest trip of my life. It’s coming with me.”

Din held his hands up beside his head as if in surrender. “Fine, fine!” He began examining the hilt closer. “Explain the visions one more time….”

You sighed again, looking over at the kid as he played with the newest member of the Frog family. “The first ones I wouldn’t really call visions, per say, more like….” You studied the floor in front of you before lifting your gaze back to his. “Glimpses. Glimpses of someone else’s past.” He nodded for you to go on.

Closing your eyes tight to try and remember every detail you could, you scratched your temple as you began. “I saw you, first, in the arms of your father, running on the streets of your home planet. The droids, the war…. I saw it all.” You took a deep breath as you tried to steady your nerves, eyes opening to watch him carefully. “The cellar where you hid, I went in there, too-”

“Why?”

Your jaw snapped shut, nose scrunching up in thought. “I don’t know. I just felt like I should. And I….” You tried to keep your features as neutral as possible, your voice as calm as you could. “Din, I saw you.”

He froze, lightsaber held up by his face as he examined it, slowly lowering down to his lap, forgotten.

“I saw the fear on your face, the longing for your parents…. But most of all, I saw the love echoing back from your parents’ eyes as they made sure you were safe.” He didn’t move. “They truly loved you, Din. They were doing the best they could in a really terrible, awful situation. And it worked - you lived. That’s all they were hoping for. They’d be so proud of who you’ve become.”

You looked over at the child as he squeaked, playing with the baby, and smiled. “And I think they’d love the kid, too.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be on their list of favorites, too, mesh’la. Probably higher than me.”

Turning back to find him already looking at you, your eyes flitted back and forth, searching for purchase you knew they weren’t going to find. “I’m sure I would have loved them, too.” Finally settling on one spot, your voice barely came out above a whisper. “You have beautiful eyes….”

His visor tilted slowly in question.

Clearing your throat, your gaze fell to his chest, unable to hold the weight of his stare any longer. “In the vision, er, glimpse, thing…. I saw your eyes.” Finding the courage, you looked back up quickly, finding his head straightening, his shoulders stiff. “Only for a second,” you added as if it helped. “Only for a second, and technically it was before you swore the creed, so it was just like if I had actually been there that day.”

He sat straighter still, every part of him rigid and stiff. “The girl.” His voice sounded almost bewildered, distant, as if lost in a memory.

You hesitated. “What?”

He shook his head slowly, looking down to his lap before looking back up at you, head tilting to the side as his shoulders hunched forward just slightly. “I always thought I imagined it. When they were taking me away, when I looked down, I could have sworn I saw a girl and she…. She looked a lot like you.”

The two of you stared at one another for a long moment.

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, extending your hand for the lightsaber back, taking it gently when he held it out to you. “If you had asked me yesterday I would have said it wasn’t possible, but now…. I don’t know. Even just a few hours ago.” You cradled your face in your palm. “So much has happened in just a short time.” Moving your hand so it held the side of your face, you braced your elbow on your knee to support your head. “And I didn’t even tell you about what I saw right before I left the inn to go outside yet.”

“There’s more?” Din’s incredulous voice made you groan, a soft chuckle chasing it out into the open as you nodded, your eyes falling shut, exhausted at the mere thought of going on.

Suddenly the kid let out a wail, tugging on your bag across the room, and looking at you with humongous eyes.

Rising to your feet, you turned toward the bag. “Hang on, I’ll-”

Din put a hand on your shoulder, stopping your movement, and the kid’s cries of frustration crescendoed again when he saw. “I’ve got it.”

“No, really I can-”

“Hold that thought,” Din said, holding one finger up close to your face, “and don’t move.”

“What am I, a bounty?” A small bobble of his head as he walked away made you grin, knowing he probably was rolling his eyes.

“If you were a bounty, you’d probably be the first to convince me to let you go.”

“Why, because of my good looks?” You batted your eyelashes mockingly as he handed the kid a ration pack, the crying instantly stopping, and made his way back over to you with a snort of laughter.

“No.” You scoffed at his answer, a snicker making its way through his vocoder. “You just have a way with words, cyar’ika.”

He stopped in front of you, head tilted slightly down as yours hinged slightly back to let your gazes meet somewhere in the middle.

After a long moment you turned with a groan, walking towards where he had been seated before, stopping and staring at the wall with hands on your hips. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Going to?”

You whirled back around at his teasing tone, leveling him with a glare as he chuckled.

“Come on. Please tell me.” His arms crossed over his chest, his weight shifting to one leg. “I promise I won’t think you’re too crazy.”

“That-”

“I won’t think you’re any more crazy than you are, or any crazier than I already do.”

“Just…. Stop talking.” You held up a hand to silence him before returning it to your hip, your other hand going to massage between your eyes as they closed tight. “You're giving me a headache.”

“I’m sorry. What did you see, mesh’la?” He asked quietly.

“I couldn’t tell at first.” You lowered your hand to your side, eyes darting around the room as you recalled the vision you had right before you left the closet. “I would definitely call this one a vision, it felt like it was something that hasn’t happened yet.”

He nodded for you to go on. Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on his signet as you continued.

“I heard you. You were talking to another Mandalorian, a woman. She asked if you had ever removed your helmet. …..And you said yes.” You looked at him straight on. “She said you were no longer Mandalorian.”

His chest rose and fell rapidly, but no sound passed through his modulator. He finally stumbled back a step, his footing unsteady, as a quick anguished breath slipped past the vocoder. He looked off to the side, gently shaking his head. “That-” he looked back to you. “That would never happen.” He took a step closer, closing the distance he’d stumbled back. “It won’t.”

“Maybe it was out of your control. Maybe-”

“It won’t.”

He took one large step forward, his figure looming over you, menacing and broad. Now you knew how his bounties must have felt, as you took a step back out of instinct, your spine sealing itself along the wall behind you. You had to tilt your head back just slightly to maintain eye contact, he was standing so close to you. You weren’t afraid, but you’d admit there was an inkling of fear curling just under the surface at the mere air of menacing he was giving off in waves.

The kid let out a questioning squawk from the table on the other side of the room, the Frog Lady trying to shush him quickly. Something about that sound shook him from his rage, and he hung his head with a gentle shake, apologizing.

“I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you, you know that-”

He went to take a step back with a heavy, sad sigh, but stopped when you reached out a hand to place over his that had gestured hollowly in front of him.

“I know you,” you said quietly, mimicking his words from earlier, effectively cutting off his rambling, and stopping his movement away from you. He let out another heavy sigh through the modulator. “I know,” you added softly.

Reaching a hand out to place on the side of his helmet where you assumed his cheek would be, you must have been right, because he quickly let out the rest of his breath on a quiet hiss and leaned into your touch, the weight of his beskar cradled in your palm.

“This is the way,” you said barely above a whisper, smiling at the small huff of air that left his vocoder.

His helmet in your hand, his weight melting into your palm, the child squeaking happily somewhere behind the two of you…. This is what you were referring to. This is the way.

Din’s voice sounded almost sleepy as he nearly burrowed further into your palm. “This is the way.”

Xxx

You bid your goodbyes to the Frog family, Din holding tightly to the child when he began to pitch a fit as your little party of three headed for the door. “No, I have enough pets.”

Walking slowly up to where the Razor Crest sat on the landing pad, you all came to a stop, surveying the rough looking ship skeptically.

It looked…. Better than it had when you’d landed. Barely. If you squinted. And didn’t even look at it.

Opening your mouth to say as much, you’re stopped short when Din cuts you off, his voice low and unamused. “Don’t even say it.”

Snapping your mouth shut, a small smile tugging up the corners slightly, you nod once, turning to look back at the Crest.

“I gave you a thousand credits, this was the best you could do?” Din hisses to the Mon Calamari attendant. Unphased, the mechanic simply holds out his data pad towards the Mandalorian, who presses the appropriate buttons to complete the transaction with a sigh.

Turning and making his way towards the ramp of the ship, he holds out his hand towards you and pauses, waiting until you fall in stride with him, where he places his hand firmly on your lower back as you move forward together. He’d been much more…. Possessive? No, that wasn’t right. Protective? No, that wasn’t it, either. Closer. He’d been much closer ever since the crash landing on the last planet.

Especially since he gave you the knife. Looking up at his visor with a soft smile, you studied the angles of the beskar as they somehow shined despite the overcast day. You figured it was just something to do with Mandalorians, their culture, and their focus on families and tribes.

Striding into the Crest as a unit, all three of you looked around the interior to inspect the repairs. Ropes. Ropes were everywhere. The ship was held together with twine. Walking up to one particularly tight strand nearby, you reached out a finger and plucked it, the string vibrating with a low hum, the frequency rattling into the metal of the ship on either end and making it sing its own low tune. Something off to the side groaned, like metal on metal, protesting the song selection.

Looking over the side of your shoulder at Din, he just stared at you silently before making his way to the cockpit, making you snicker.

The doors to the cabin whirred open, their once smooth hiss now a jolting swish. They moved at half the speed they normally did, making Din do a double take, and you had to turn your head to hide your grin in the massive hood of your new cape where it pooled on your shoulder.

Setting the kid in his chair to the right before sliding into the pilot’s chair, Din reached around the strands of twine pointedly, flipping switches and pressing buttons with unneeded aggression. “Mon Calamari,” he huffed, shaking his head as he attacked a few more buttons. “Unbelievable.”

Pressing the lever forward, the ship began to rise slowly, shaking and rattling like it was in the grip of an angry rancor. As the ship continued to shudder, you opened your mouth to say something about it, but without even turning to see you, Din cut you off just like on the dock, grumbling this time. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Smiling, you looked over at the kid as you fastened your safety belt. Creeping down from the ceiling was a small cephalopod creature like had been in the chowder you had been served your first day here. Remembering the way it plopped into the bowl made you shudder. The kid watched it intently, cooing as it got closer. You weren’t too worried about it, if anything, it could be a snack for the little carnivore, but he was tired after a long day, and you didn’t want to set off a fit just because he was so tired.

Reaching for your knife, you’re just about to draw the blade and stab the creature when it let go of the twine it clung to, dropping quickly toward the child with a hiss. Before you can react, Din has reached his hand back, catching the creature just above the child’s face, making the kid giggle.

“I finally know where I’m taking you,” Din’s voice is light, the first time since leaving the Frog’s house. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that long ago, but you always preferred when he was happy. He turned back toward the viewport, controls tight in his grasp with one hand, and you took the small aquatic creature from his grip so he could put both hands back on the steering. The ship continued to shudder violently. “But it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

“Isn’t it always?” You muttered under your breath, watching the city below shrink through the viewport as the ship rose higher and higher.

Turning back to look at the kid again, he caught the tail end of a tentacle being slurped into his little green mouth, his hands coming together in front of him, his eyes darting away, wide in innocence. Turning to look at you, Din tilted his helmet as if to say, really? and you only shrugged.

“What?”

With your hand tucked under the long flowy front of your cape, you slowly rotated your pointer finger, focusing on an object across the cockpit as the kid looked at you with scheming eyes.

Mimicking his words from earlier, you tilted your head to the side, smiling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Din shook his head at you, turning to face the front right as you directed your pointer finger in a straight line, steering the small ball you were manipulating straight to the child’s waiting grasp behind him.

He reached to do something on the control panel, stopping when he noticed the ball missing. Turning slowly to look at the kid, the child simply looked back up at him and munched on the ball happily, his eyes darting over to you after a moment. Din turned your way, moving even slower, only to find you a perfect mirror image of the kid after he ate the creature - hands in your lap clasped together, head turned to look slightly to the side out the viewport, eyes wide and innocent as you stared at the stars crawling by.

“Have me turning in kriffing circles,” he mumbled, turning his chair back the other way to unwind the small circle he’d made. “Great idea. Make the pilot dizzy.”

He pushed on a control and hyperspace streamed around the cockpit, dancing off of every reflective surface. Looking down to your vambraces, you get a little lost in the streaks as it looks like part of your arms are made of stars, swirls of blues and silvers whizzing past, painting the beskar in glowing shades of starlight.

“Think you could help me with some wiring, you little delinquent?”

Looking up at his visor, the T an inky stripe that sat in the mass of reflected starlight from the rest of his armor. “Considering that’s the only thing I know how to do so far, yeah I guess I could help.”

He snorted a laugh. “I’m going to focus on getting these ropes out of here.” He plucked one like you had earlier, something on the deck below crashing a bit belatedly, making him sigh a heavy, heavy sigh. “I’ll watch the kid. The panels down below need the most attention, by the carbonite storage.”

You nodded, then shuddered, shaking your head when he tilted his head at you in question. “Nothing. Just…. Remembering that one time you chased a bounty into my bar- what was it you told him? ‘I can bring you in….’”

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” He answered instantly. His weight shifted to his other hip where he sat in his chair out of habit, his hand coming to rest lightly on his blaster in preparation for a fight. Realizing his movements, he relaxed into the chair after a moment.

“That was it!” You said with a smile. “Do you say that often, like is it a tactic, or was it just-”

“No, it was just something off the top of my head,” he cut in, brushing the statement away with one hand.

“Right,” you said after a moment, nodding once before making your way to the doors, their jerking swoosh making you chuckle. “So by the carbonite?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning to the controls at his side. The door shut behind you, and he slumped forward, his shoulders rounding in his seat as he let out a heavy breath. Turning to the kid, he paused. “What?” He questioned the foundling as the child stared up at him with suspicious eyes, narrowed accusingly, a soft unimpressed grunt coming to meet the expression.

“She doesn’t need to know that’s my line,” he said offhandedly, turning to examine some of the ropes more closely.

The child began to babble, gesturing between the door and Din as he spoke, making Din chuckle.

“Okay, okay, you little womp rat! I’ll tell her later. You happy?”

Arms falling down to his side, the kid let out a humph as he plopped back into the chair, sitting and munching on his ball as he watched his caretaker get to work.

Xxx

Surveying the interior of the ship as you twisted a bundle of wires together, you chuckled softly, shaking your head as you took in all the ropes and fishing nets holding it all together.

You’d slipped your cape off, but left the saber on your hip. You’d only had it a short time, but it didn’t feel right anywhere else.

Directing your attention back to the panel in front of you, it's quickly pulled away again by the sound of Din dropping down the ladder in one go.

“Everything okay?” He asks after turning to face you.

One corner of your mouth twitched up. “Well, I haven’t decentigrated your ship with my flamethrowers yet, so I guess that’s a yes?” Closing up the panel, you walked over to meet him halfway, wiping your hands off on the front of your pants. “Did you need something in particular?”

“Just came down to get a tool,” he said offhandedly, striding over to the toolbox near where you had been.

Taking the saber in your hand, you felt its weight in your palm. “I wonder….” Taking a deep breath, you tossed it up in the air, watching it flip end over end before you caught it behind your back, a brilliant smile climbing up your face.

“What are you doing?”

Snapping your head up to look at Din, you found him staring at you curiously.

“I just needed to stretch a little bit after doing all that hunched over,” you gestured toward the panel with the hilt. “I got to thinking-”

“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous.”

You pulled a face, mocking laughter at his joke. “Oh, ha ha, you're so funny.”

“Thanks,” he teased, making you huff.

“I got to thinking,” you continued pointedly, “if it was anything like when I flip bottles behind the bar. Same principles, same basic shape…. I don’t know, my mind just went there so I wanted to try it, and it worked.” You did another flip in front of you, catching it easily, then a more complicated one, flipping it then making a full circle before you caught it, smiling up at him when you were done.

“How,” he began after a moment, dragging out the word. “How can you do that with a laser sword and not have a problem, but you tripped on the ramp twice the other day?”

“There was something in my way-”

“It was perfectly flat,” he deadpanned.

You scowled at him. “I tripped on air. It’s a thing that happens.”

“Happens to who?”

“People!”

“It doesn’t happen to me.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Okay, Mr. I tripped and fell in Peli’s hangar but didn’t think anyone saw me.”

Silence hung between you.

“That was one time.” He held up one finger for emphasis.

You held up your hands in surrender, smiling smugly. “I believe you. I didn’t even see it. The pit droid told me.”

He just stared at you, his hand holding firm to the single digit extended.

Suddenly the ship lurched, throwing you and Din into one another, alarms blaring from the cockpit. Scrambling to keep on your feet, both of you ended up clutching the other close in a tight grip, your gaze getting lost in the T of his visor inches from your face.

Over the blaring of alarms you could now hear the shrill sound of the child laughing heartily from the cockpit, obviously the source of the chaos engulfing the ship. Both of you scrambled up the ladder as fast as possible as the ship teetered back and forth unpredictably. You gripped his cape to stay upright once you made it to the top, peering over his shoulder to see the kid gleefully running along the length of the console, crunching whatever buttons and switches were unfortunate enough to be underfoot.

You surged forward as a unit, Din scooping up the child and handing him to you in one motion, your firm grip ready and waiting to contain the monster as he squirmed in your arms. He continued into the pilot's chair without missing a beat, correcting all the things the kid had messed with, the alarms stopping one by one, silence quickly growing in the cabin. Once everything was settled and the ship had stopped shuddering violently, you and Din turned stern gazes onto the child who just looked between you both with a wide grin.

A soft alarm began to go off right as Din took in a deep breath to say something, making him turn back to the console, flipping a forgotten switch, and instantly a shower of sparks and a loud bang erupted from down below.

Your lips drew into a tight line as you stared at the stars inching by through the transparisteel. “That was the panel I just fixed, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” he was quick to answer.

“Take him, please,” you said quietly, extending the child to the Mandalorian who took him in one arm.

Turning, you made your way down the ladder quickly, a loud “Dank farrik!” coming along behind you after a small shower of sparks flared light up into the cockpit. “I’m fine,” you added, sighing, the loud clang of the metal panel landing on the floor as you began the repairs again.

The cockpit doors closed, leaving Din and the kid in silence aside from the sound of tools clanging around dully below.

Looking down to the kid, Din shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

The kid babbled something to him before turning his gaze back toward the cockpit doors.

Xxx

You leaned against the frame of the cockpit doors as you watched Din flip various switches. The engines sputtered and revved pointlessly before dying.

Some black grease smudges were on the tips of your fingers where your gloves didn’t cover from all the wiring you had been doing, a few on your vambraces, and no doubt one or two on your face where you’d forgotten and gone to brush your hair out of your eyes. Grabbing the scarf Vanth had given you back on Tatooine, you began to wipe the grime from your skin and beskar.

“I was looking through some spare parts you have down there, and I think you have pretty much everything I would need, but next port we get to, I’m going to check out a few junk shops.”

“What are you talking about?” Din spun his seat around to face you, helmet tilted in question.

You sighed. “We talked about this earlier.” One hand went to rest on your hip. “I want to build a training ball like the Jedi used to use. I have the diagrams in my bag, I got them off of someone back on Coruscant just before we left. They were mixed in with a handful of other documents…. Anyway. It hovers and shoots small blaster shots at random, and you have to reach out and connect, to feel in order to block it.”

“Wouldn’t that just make you extremely tired extremely fast? Like the first time you shot the blaster?”

You smiled softly. “No, but that’s why I need it. Using the Force makes you drain your batteries faster, being in tune with it doesn’t. That night I wasn’t very in tune.”

“You seemed pretty in tune to me,” he chuckled. “I was watching.”

“Yeah?” You spoke softly, grinning as you went back to wiping your hands.

“Yeah,” he returned equally as soft.

After a moment he turned back to the console to press more buttons. Reaching up overhead he flipped some switch, making the engines rev again. “All right, let’s try this again. Okay, did you…. Do you have the wire?”

“What?”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” An alarm started beeping softly before a series of button pushes turned it off. He turned to the console on his left, a few more buttons and switches. “No. Nothing.” He sighed heavily. Pressing a button repeatedly as if maybe the seventeenth time would have a different outcome, he finally stopped. “Hey….” He looked over his left shoulder toward the back of the cockpit. “Oh.” Clearing his throat, he got to his feet and went to a small little opening in the back wall you hadn’t noticed.

A loud coo was heard from inside as Din knelt down in front of the small hole, and your eyes went wide.

“Din…. Where is the kid?”

“He’s helping,” Din said simply, not looking at you, instead keeping his gaze forward on the child.

Crouching down beside him, you pushed his shoulder to move him and get a glimpse down the small shaft, making him grunt at the impact. Sure enough, at the end of the little tunnel was the tiny green baby with two wires in his hands, grinning at you like there was nothing wrong with the world.

Sighing, you let your weight slump down onto your heels, letting Din softly nudge his way back in front of the space. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course.”

“Does he?”

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered, making you roll your eyes when he finally did. “Yes.”

“I could help with the wiring,” you wiggle your fingers to emphasize your hidden meaning, implying you could use the Force to reach these hard to get to areas for him instead of sending the kid on a mission into the depths of the Crest. “I just learned how to recently, but I’ve been told I’m very good at it. A close friend taught me. Had to save his ass after he crashed his ship on an ice ball, but I’m pretty sure all that wiring was messed up before impact.”

“Is that so?” Din snorted. “That much effort would put you in a coma for a month.” A smile quirked up your cheeks. “The Crest is in too bad of shape, there’s no way you’d last long enough to even do half of it.”

“Your confidence is overwhelming,” you teased, turning to sit on the floor, leaning your back against the cockpit doors.

“I just admitted my ship is falling apart after all the times you’ve said the same thing,  and you turn it into something about you?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Your ship is a mess. Let’s talk about that.”

He grunted before turning back to the little cut out the kid was perched way back in.

“Okay. Did you get the wire out? The red wire?” His tone was a new one for you, like he was talking to a child, which he was, but he never talked to the kid like that. Slow and easy, calm at every turn. He usually talked to the child like he was an equal, but this simple teaching voice made you look at him and smile.

“Huh?” The kid squeaked a reply from deep in the bowels of the ship, making you snort a laugh as it echoed slightly.

“No, no, no. No, the red one. Show me the red wire.” You tilted your head back against the doors behind you, watching the scene unfold with amusement. “The red one.”

A soft coo sounded.

“Yes, good. Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes in the board.”

A slightly confused sounding coo was next, and you rolled your head to look out the viewport, closing your eyes with a sigh.

“Put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board, okay? But don’t let them touch.”

Another coo, this one you swore sounded like “Huh?” and made you roll your head back to face Din again.

“There has to be another way, Din.”

“There isn’t.” His voice was calm, but there was something underneath that hinted at frustration.

You scoffed softly. “And electrocuting the child is better?”

“He’s not going to get electrocuted. I asked if he wanted to help and he said yes.” He sounded dismissive, one hand waving the comment off as he kept eyes on the child.

“He said yes.” It was a statement, not a question. And an incredulous one at that, your face a deadpan as you stared at the Mandalorian.

He tossed his head gently side to side as if deciding what to say. “He made a sound that sounded like yes. ….And I told him I would give him a cookie after we were done. He couldn’t get in there fast enough after that,” he chuckled.

You huffed out a breath, massaging between your eyes as they screwed shut. “That’s not much of a choice, is it? And after all the times you’ve gotten after me for bribing him,” lowering your hand to look at him again, you tisk at him before looking back out the viewport from your perch on the floor.

Din shrugged. “I think he’s getting it.”

The kid cooed again, drawing both of your attention back.

“You see where you took the blue one off? Yes, now put the red one….”

The kid grunted, the sound of a wire being plugged in following shortly after.

“No, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was. And put the blue one where the red one was. But be careful.”

Cradling your face in your hands, knees pulled tightly to your chest holding your arms close, you slowly rolled your head back and forth as if scratching a deep itch. “This is painful….”

Din scoffed lightly, not looking away from the kid.

“I don’t think he’s getting it, Din,” you said into your hands, your words muffled and almost unintelligible.

The child cooed, the sound echoing around the small space, his voice so utterly confused.

“They’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other. Make sure you hold them apart from…. No, hold them apart. Oh!”

The sound of electricity made you sit up straight, rolling back over onto your knees and crouching beside Din to see down the opening.

“Oh…. Are you okay?” You slowly turned your head to look at Din after he asked.

The child coughed before whining softly, otherwise totally fine.

Din sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

You stood, brushing off your pants as you spoke in a mock serious tone. “What we learned from this is I am always right, and you should listen to me always, especially when it consists of matters concerning your…. What’s the Mando’a word for son?”

Din froze, staring at the kid as he slowly made his way forward in the little opening. “Ad is the literal translation, but ad’ika is also acceptable, more of a broad, endearing term for children of all ages. Ade is a more general term. Any of them would work for him.” He looked over and up at you, watching your face morph into something soft.

You swallowed roughly. “With matters concerning your ad,” you finished. After a moment, you continued softly. “Will you teach me Mando’a?”

Din let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re still learning Huttese, and you have most of the Tusken language down, but that’s a lot all at once.”

“I don’t care,” you responded instantly. “I wanted to learn those to communicate with people we encounter, but I want to learn how to communicate with the most important person I’ve come across. You.”

Holding your gaze for a long moment, Din finally responded with a simple nod. “This is your first lesson, then. Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.”

The way the words just poured out of his mouth with ease, each sound something beautiful and sweet like honey. You almost zoned out a little as he spoke, the lilt in his voice something hypnotic as you tried to focus on each word and commit it to memory. You hesitated. “I only knew one of those words.”

Din sounded like he was smiling. “Then you better get learning, mesh’la.”

Xxx

You sat on the end of the bunk, cradling your small bowl of soup.

Sitting a few feet in front of you, their backs to you, Din and the kid were perched on crates, nursing their own bowls of soup.

You’d offered to turn completely around for him so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable lifting his helmet, even just enough to take a sip before lowering it again, but he’d said no, it wasn’t something he was too concerned about. He trusted you. He’d insisted you stay in the lower area with him and the child instead of going up to the cockpit. In fact, he tried to get you to sit with him and the child, but you opted to stay back behind.

He sat in such a way that his face was angled just slightly in your direction, enough that if you really wanted to look, you would see him. But he didn’t seem to mind. He made no effort to move, and you were sure he was aware of just how much you would be able to see. The thought of him being so open and carefree about it made your breath catch in your chest.

You tried not to look, but you found your eyes darting up to catch a glimpse involuntarily. That same tanned skin you’d seen in the vision, a strong jaw, and the shadow of facial hair. He was backlit so you could barely make any of that out, most of it hidden in shadow. But every time you closed your eyes, just like before, the image was burned into your eyelids.

The child made little slurping sounds as he ate his soup, soft coos of contentment following each gulp, and a small sigh of satisfaction.

“There’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape.”

Din reached up to disengage the lock on his helmet, tilting it back just enough to take a sip from his small bowl. The kid tilted his head and leaned forward as he looked up at the Mandalorian, trying to catch a glimpse of the face underneath the beskar. You smiled as you watched the interaction, your lips pulling tight around the rim of the bowl you held to your mouth. Lowering his helmet back down, the mechanism hissed as it sealed, a sigh passing through the modulator.

“You know, I think we need to visit some friends for repairs.” The kid tilted his head again as he studied Din, his forehead wrinkling adorably in confusion. Turning to look down at the foundling, Din’s voice grew almost playful. “So, how would you like to go back to Navarro?”

“Huh?” It was the one word the kid said clearly on a consistent basis, and it never failed to make you laugh.

Tilting his helmet back again, both him and the kid took a drink at the same time, and your smile around your bowl of soup seemed like a permanent fixture.

“But first, we need to make a little pit stop.”

Xxx

Not long after you all had finished eating, Din had returned to the cockpit to punch in the new coordinates. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, he only said, “You’ll see” teasingly.

The child sat in the chair to Din’s right, sound asleep after eating all that soup, and you sat in your spot to his left, arms across your chest, watching the stars crawl by outside.

“While we’re waiting, how about you teach me some Mando’a?”

“Gar copaani hibirar Mando’a?”

“Din-”

“Nayc, gar copaani ibic, gar hibira ibic yust.”

You stared at him, mulling over the many responses flying around in your head, most of them not nice. “You’re so annoying,” you finally landed on, turning back to stare out the viewport.

He chuckled. “Bal gar cuyi mesh’la.”

You snapped your head back to look at him, finding his helmet tilted at you in amusement. “Hey, I knew that word at least.”

“At least,” he agreed, turning back to the controls when an alarm began to softly go off. “We’re here.”

Looking ahead of you, an almost red colored planet came into view, growing larger and larger the closer you got. It looked barren and dusty. “And where is ‘here’?”

“Arvala-7.”

Xxx

Translations:

Ad - Son

Ad’ika - Little one, son, daughter, of any age

Ade - Children, sons, daughters

“Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” - “You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”

“Gar copaani hibirar Mando’a?” - “You want to learn Mando’a?”

“Nayc, gar copaani ibic, gar hibira ibic yust.” - “No, you want this, you learn this way.”

“Bal gar cuyi mesh’la.” - “And you are beautiful.”

Xxx

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[jotatetsuken]

Knock You Down (JJK x JJBA Crossover)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader, Bruno Bucciarati x Fem! Reader

Trope: Love Triangles, Modern AU, Mafia AU mixed with College AU from JJK side

Summary: Set up in an AU where there's no presence of supernatural abilities (like cursed energies or Stands), you'd come to Italy to start a new life. That's where you meet Bruno Bucciarati, the owner of the Libeccio restaurant in Naples, and he might have a secret to hide. Despite reeling over your previous breakup, you decide to befriend him anyway, and both of you date and fall in love. However, on the 4th anniversary of the opening of Libeccio, you and Bruno have a chance encounter with Satoru Gojo, who's a professor at Tokyo University, and your ex-boyfriend with whom you had a terrible breakup, and he's looking to make it up to you. Who will you choose? Or would you be able to choose?

Word Count: 5785

Warnings: Mentions of drug trading, mafia, a tad bit of harassment, trauma, dying, suggestive content (like mentions of having sex and stuff), nightmares, anxiety, breaking in, punching, shooting. Please lmk if I miss any <33

Beta Reading: @saltyvanilla ♥️♥️

Brainstorming: @cuz-like-why-not ♥️♥️

Taglist: @beware-of-the-rogue @2dmensupermercy @bmthevick @akaashi-todorki @mrskenmakozume @ohtobiors @novaresque @tiddieluvr @pencilpoked-heart @quirrrky @megumischubbycheeks @sabyss @hyeque @cirigiri @izu-fi @p-antomime @xshinigamikittenx

Please fill this if you want to be a part of the tag list for this story and for more JJK, JJBA, and other fandom content :)

Shyna's Seiyuu Birthday Celebration

A/N: So, Feb 20th was Yuichi Nakamura's birthday and I figured why not do something different? Well, about Satoru Gojo, it's very rare to find people that don't like him, and for good reason too. He's smart, he's strong, he's witty, he's cheeky, he's very good-looking too. His blue eyes are so dreamy...okay okay I digress. Then I restart watching Golden Wind and I come across Bruno Bucciarati and I'm like Bruno, omg Bruno! What a guy! I absolutely love this man and his power. So, I came up with an idea to do a crossover :D That way, two of my favorite fandoms can come together ^_^ In any case, I'm having a JJK and JJBA brain rot rn xD Anyway, the storyline is mine, the banner's mine too, but all the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen belong to Gege Akutami and of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure belong to Hirohiko Araki :) Reblogs, likes, and comments, especially reblogs, are highly, highly appreciated.

Song: Knock You Down - Keri Hilson ft. Ne-Yo, Kanye West

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Say you gotta take the good with the bad, happy and the sad But when you bring a better future than I had in the past Oh, 'cause I don't wanna make the same mistakes I did I don't wanna fall back on my face again

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Your tired body slumped into the bed of your hotel room, completely exhausted. As you lay on the mattress, the softness embraced you, making you feel comfortable and relaxed. You made this room your temporary home when you fled Japan without telling anyone except your closest friends and family members. You didn't want to live in an environment where your past memories tortured you day after day, month after month. Each corner of Tokyo brought back memories of a certain someone, and every time you thought of him, your heart ached. You wanted him back, you wanted your bed to be occupied along with you by a certain silver-haired man whose azure eyes still linger in your memories, but you couldn’t.

Your decision to move to Italy was made seemingly on a whim. Your desire to travel to Europe led you to learn some European languages, of which you quickly learned Italian. It provided a significant benefit to you, especially when you were unable to communicate in English alone, not that you couldn't. English was your second language, and you were quite proficient in it. Italian was, however, better aid when people asked you for your belongings, money, or anything too valuable to lose than English was. You decided to explore Naples and discover its natural beauty after getting tired of the hotel food. The plethora of colors that adorned the buildings and the pristine blue sea that kissed the sand all too often completely awed you as you walked along the streets of Naples, felt the breeze graze your skin, and breathed the fresh air. The next thing you know you're on an ominous street full of drug dealers.

As you turned either way, you felt an uncertain feeling creeping in. The pace of your steps increased as your breathing hitched by the second, only to be abruptly halted by a strange-looking individual. Jet-black hair complemented his light brown skin, and he wore a red t-shirt and black jeans. He then began to approach you. “Hey, baby,” he said while cornering you to a wall, coming closer to you and saying with a smirk, “you seem to be new here in town, by any chance, do you have anything on you, if you know what I mean?” You nod your head in denial and start to stutter, “no...no… I don't," when a hand lands on the man's shoulder. That’s when you turn to see another man who may not look like what you'd normally see, but he seemed to have an air of authority around this place. “Oi,” that man scowled, “what do you think you’re doing, harassing this girl?” The first man shuddered in this man's presence, crying out to him, “I'm so sorry, Signore Bruno...please spare me.”

When you finally turned to “Bruno,” you got to observe him up close, causing the tremor in your breath to slowly subside. He was quite tall, around 5 feet 10 inches, clad in an all-white suit covered with black spoon-like symbols with zippers all over the place. His suit also had an open chest with a lace-like top or a tattoo. There was something unique about his hairstyle. The chin-length black hair with bluish-gray highlights, with straight-cut bangs covering his forehead, was adorned by a braid that went along the top of his head with a hair clip at each side of the bangs. This complemented his beautiful skin, sky-blue eyes, and the warm smile that crept upon his face when he looked at you. Bruno then looked at the man that made you feel immensely uncomfortable and insecure and with his left hand, punched his face, growling at him, “as long as I am alive, these streets will not have any drug trade at all, and if I catch you so much as coming near her or anyone else for that, I'll make sure you'll never see the daylight again. Now, scram before I smack you again.”

This caused the stranger to shriek and disappear into another building. As you trembled in fear with your eyes closed, you clutched your purse. While all kinds of thoughts were running through your mind, you heard a calming "hey," causing you to break free from your train of thought. “Are you okay? 'I'm so sorry about that.' Bruno said in a calm tone, sensing that you were overwhelmed by what just transpired. You nodded in agreement, replying in broken Italian, “Yes, yes, I am. I was just wanting to get something to eat, when...” Bruno then chuckled in response, leaning against the wall with you, and said with a smile, “First of all, I do know English well, so we can communicate in that if you're comfortable.” This causes you to heave a sigh of relief as he continues, “Secondly, I just happen to know a restaurant, called Libeccio, just down the street.” You think about it for a moment, until he shrugs and says, “their squid pasta, porcini mushroom alfredo and grilled scallops are good.”

You nodded your head fervently, excited to go along with him, but you didn't know when you'd get to meet him next, after all, you didn't know his full name. “Excuse me, Signore,” you say as Bruno turns to you, after which you reply, “Can I please know who you are and how I can thank you?” He closed his eyes, smiled, and said, “I'm sorry, Signora, I forgot to introduce myself.” He puts his right hand forward and says, “Buon Giorno, I am Bruno Bucciarati, and you?” Sensing that Bruno seemed very kind, you smiled back, shook hands with him, and said, “Hello, I am (F/N) (L/N). A pleasure to meet you!” Bruno nodded in agreement, took you by your hand, and walked to Libeccio with you. You were certain Italy did seem to be a kind country now.

No sooner did Bruno and you enter Libeccio, than one of the waiters called out to him, “Signora Bruno, you are back!" How are you doing today? Would you like your usual?” Bruno chuckled in response, saying,“Hello, Lorenzo. I hope your family is doing well. Yes, please, I would like the usual for today. Also, to my right, someone who needs to be treated in this restaurant like family. Her name is (F/N) (L/N), and she’s new to Italy. We’ve got to show her the best that we have to offer!” All the waiters nodded in agreement. Lorenzo had brought another chair for you to sit beside Bruno, and they brought porcini mushroom alfredo for the reader and squid pasta for him. When you joined your hands and muttered “Itadakimasu,” and then dug in to eat, you couldn’t take in all the flavors that were bursting in your mouth. You were in awe of this dish, for some reason. You turn to Bruno and say, “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten! How did you know of this place?” Bruno smiled at you and replied, “I actually own the place. It’s been a year since I opened this restaurant.” Your eyes widen in surprise as the fork falls off your hand, and your mouth gapes wide open.“But... you...”Bruno grins, saying, “you didn’t think you’d meet a restaurant owner, huh? So, tell me, (F/N). Where are you from?” You continue to eat and look at him while replying, “Japan. I wanted to start a new life in a new country, so I’m going to be working as a college professor in Maths.”

Bruno nodded in understanding as they continued eating as he noticed the tremor in your replies. “F/N,” Bruno calls out to you, causing you to turn to him while taking a glass of water. Exhaling, he asks, “I sense you're running from something. A prior relationship turning sour, I suppose.” Hearing this, you almost choke on the water in shock. How in the world did he figure this out? He smirks and continues, “I have a unique way of sensing when someone is lying. Usually, seeing people’s sweat or their heart pace as an indicator," he said while taking your wrist, checking your pulse rate, and beginning to think. “Hmm,” Bruno said. “You're not exactly lying, but you were hiding the fact. That's okay. I apologize if I got a bit too nosy. I didn't mean to pry. If you were from the enemy territory, however...”

“The enemy territory?” You ask. He nods in agreement, “I am a part of a mafia gang.” This new piece of information hit you like a brick. Trying to process all you'd gathered, in disbelief, you nervously chuckle and stand up from your seat. “Oh, um, I guess it's time to say bye…” until Bruno halts you by grabbing hold of your wrist and inquiring, “Where do you think you're going?” Your body starts to tremble, with you telling him, “Umm, I've seen it in many movies, this is how it goes when one learns of the other's identity…” Bruno laughed loudly, saying,"Oh, (F/N), you pure soul, I was just joking, don't worry." Your eyes widened in shock.“Really?” Bruno nods, “Yes, I'm not dangerous. I'm not a part of a mafia gang. It's sort of weird, especially because it's normal in Italy to associate yourself sometimes. However, I am friends with some, who I believe will want to bring change within the gang. Besides, people respect me here. They come to me to seek help in various situations. This is despite them knowing who I am. Why would I betray them, hmm?” You bite your lower lip in contemplation. You look at Bruno and realize that he seems trustworthy, but you need more time especially because of your past. He interrupts your train of thought by asking, “Would you like to get to know my friends? Maybe that will help you understand me more?” After a pregnant pause, you reply, “Uh, yes sure.”

Bruno then takes you to another room which had a few people talking among themselves. Clearing his throat, he gathers everyone's attention. “Everyone, this is (F/N) (L/N). She's just moved to Italy recently, and she seems to be in some sort of trouble. We need to look out for her, alright?” Everyone nodded at Bruno in agreement. Putting his hand on your shoulder ever so slightly, causing your cheeks to be rosy, Bruno smiles and replies. “(F/N), I'd like you to meet my friends, my family.” You look at everyone, causing them to nod to you in response. “This is Leone Abbacchio,” causing you to shake hands with a tall man with his white long hair having its ends spiked upwards.“Guido Mista”, you then meet a man clad in blue and red, with a red hat with blue designs and smiled and shook hands with him. “Narancia Ghirga,” caused the purplish black-clad boy to come forward and fist bump with you. “Pannacotta Fugo." You then turn to a blonde guy wearing a green suit and pants and a blue tie, causing you to think that he’s one of the smartest out of the lot, and then Bruno concludes by saying, “and here's our newest member, Giorno Giovanna.”

The turquoise-eyed, blonde-haired boy with three distinctive curls on the top clad in pink with blue ladybug pins smiles back at you and replies to Bucciarati as he approaches to shake your hand, “Oh, we have met. Hello again, (F/N).” You shake hands with, smile, and nod back at Giorno. Bruno widens his eyes and asks, “Have you? Where?” You turn to Bruno and respond, “Giorno was at the airport when he took me to the hotel. He was very kind towards me.” Suddenly, reality settles in. You were somehow standing in mafia territory and were clueless about what was going on. That didn’t make it easier for you to process. Fear suddenly starts to creep in you, with your heart pacing rapidly and your breathing becoming ragged. You reply with a hand on your chest, “Umm, I’m sorry. I don't know how to take all this in...”

“Chill, (F/N).” Narancia reassured you by coming forward and placing his hand on your shoulder. “We'll look out for you the way Bucciarati did for us.” You turn to him and ask,“Are you sure, Narancia?” Mista then comes forward to your other side, saying,“We're sure, (L/N). We're family after all.” The trembling in your body slowly starts to fade away. “Thank you, Mista. Thank you, everyone.” Over the next hour, you recount details of your past relationship, how everything transpired, and how you still miss him and want him, but can’t, for his safety. “Satoru Gojo, huh?” Bruno replied, causing you to nod in agreement. "Hmm, I'll look out for him for you." You shake your head in defiance and respond, "No, Bruno, that's not necessary." He then grabs your left hand and says, "No, I insist. As beautiful as you are, someone who's here for a second chance deserves one." You nod in reply, smiling in gratitude. That night, when you slept in your hotel room, after years of getting nightmares about Gojo, you finally dreamed of a certain restaurant owner who was slowly calming the storm in you.

Four years had passed since the first time you met Bruno Bucciarati and during that time, you'd learned a lot about him. Over the years, you'd learned that he had a harsh childhood, that his parents had divorced, and that he stayed with his father. You'd also learned the reason he had sheer prejudice against drug dealing was especially that his father caught two gangsters dealing with drugs on his boat and he was shot seven times as a result, dying years later due to complications from the gunshot wounds. What was worse was that the very mafia, whose protection he was planning on undertaking from those gangsters, was the one responsible for dealing the drugs that cost his father’s life. So, he later resolved to overthrow the mafia not by joining them, but from afar. Bruno confided in you that Giorno had joined the mafia with the same objective in mind, and that is how they bonded, although Bruno would tell Giorno to be careful from time to time.

Initially, you didn’t stop missing Gojo, not even for a minute. However, certain words from a former salaryman would keep popping up in your mind: “if you don’t break up with him, his parents are capable of disowning and disposing of him, quietly and quickly. You don’t want that, do you?” This causes you to be unable to sleep many nights. However, hanging out with Bruno’s team greatly helped you by providing you with the necessary environment you needed to survive in Italy. The addition of Trish Una, the daughter of the boss Giorno was working for, made you feel quite relieved as you found someone with whom you could confide. Sure, the pink-haired girl clad in black and hot pink with mathematical designs on her skirt seemed very obnoxious, rude, and spoiled at first, but you later found out that it was a front that she maintained because she never knew how to make friends.

With your similar music tastes, one of your favorite artists being Spice Girls, you two got closer and she later got to know about your history with Gojo. “It is truly sad that it had to come to this,” Trish said, “but let’s say he still had feelings for you, and you called it off with him. He must be thinking that you’re happy now, and he must be choosing to move on. I believe so should you.” You nodded, and Trish continued, “besides, I think Mr. Bruno seems to have a thing for you,” causing you to giggle in response. Then you write later in your daily journal that you were choosing to let Gojo go just for the sake of his safety and happiness.

As time passed by in the four years, you’d bonded with Bruno. You would dance with Mista, Narancia, and Fugo, causing Bruno to smile whenever you smiled. Abbacchio would share the stories of when he was a police officer and you’d bond with them sharing the memories of you teaching Itadori, Fushiguro, and Nobara, and how you missed them. Sometimes, you and Bruno would have deep conversations on your views of life, crime, people, faith, basically everything under the Sun.

Those moments turned into getaways when Bruno was too tired to deal with the people at the restaurant or the restaurant itself. You could see it in his eyes that he needed to sleep. So, there’d be days where he’d just nap on your lap for hours with Abbacchio taking over the reins. During this time, Bruno got you an apartment near the university where you could go and teach and come back safely, while you were unaware that the members of his team, his friends were secretly looking into the information that you provided about Gojo.

Bruno, was in reality, a part of the mafia gang, Passione, along with everyone else. He was especially one of the upcoming caporegimes with his team, responsible for protecting their assigned territory and collecting the protection money from the restaurant and their port of operations. Narancia would use his remote-controlled plane, Aerosmith, to watch over you and check if certain people were coming after you, while Mista kept improving his shooting skills with his gun, Sex Pistols. Abbacchio kept a stock of cassette tapes and recorders for interrogation, while Fugo and Giorno were devising ways to interrogate should Gojo show up using methods like Purple Haze and Gold Experience.

Amongst the number of things that you were doing for him, he noticed that you were slowly healing from the wounds of the past, the smiles on your face now displaying a genuine smile that was far brighter than he’d ever seen. One day, after two years of your friendship with him, while you were teaching in the class, you get a knock on your door and notice that a delivery man came to deliver this bouquet of your favorite flowers to you. When you open the card and see that it was from Bruno, causing you to blush. That was when Bruno knocks on your door, and says, “Hey,” and walks towards you. You then remember the times when he started to become excessively concerned about you and would giggle a tad bit harder at your jokes. He then said, “Giorno and Abbacchio convinced me to confess to you, else they’d take you away from me,” causing you and your students to giggle. “(Y/N),” he then says, holding your hands, “Would it be a problem if you went out with me?” You shake your head in disagreement and say, “No, I don’t think so.” Then, you two hug each other and once you both come out of the hug, he cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead, causing the whole class to erupt in cheers and both of you chuckling at each other.

It'd been two years since you and Bruno started dating and four years since you two met. You were slowly moved by his character, whenever he was compassionate to those around him, whenever he would take care of the residents of the area where Libeccio was. As a boyfriend, he was very gentle, intentional, and giving. Your intimate moments were full of passion and adoration, and he never brought work home. Yeah, Bruno moved in with you around that time, and you were actually considering saying the L-word to him. However, whenever you did, Gojo's face would materialize. You kept thinking to yourself as to why Gojo never left your subconscious.

One day, in the kitchen, while you were cooking something, you felt someone kiss your cheek and heard a "Y/N-chan" in the air. Your mind was wandering because you were confused, but when you came to your senses, the water that was boiling was about to spill, causing you to flinch. Bruno ran towards you and closed the stove, enveloping you in his arms. "Oh my god, (Y/N), I am so sorry. Are you okay? You don't look like it..." As kind and caring Bruno was, your mind did not stop thinking of Gojo, but you were not going to tell him that.

You ended up confiding in Trish, who said, "I know what you could do. On the fourth anniversary of Libeccio, say that you love him, despite Gojo’s image popping up. That way, you can truly be able to let go of him, because you have someone else. Bruno is a gentleman, and I don’t want you to lose him.” You nodded nervously, wondering if Mista was right about number four bringing bad luck.

It was the fourth anniversary of the opening of Libeccio. Everyone was excited and came in their best attires. Abbacchio wore a navy suit with green laces, Fugo wore a red suit with a black tie and strawberries, Giorno wore a blue suit with red ladybug brooches, and Narancia, Mista, and Bruno wore their usual outfits but they were well maintained. You wore a black off-shoulder gown with a diamond-studded belt. As everyone was enjoying the party, Bruno clinked his glass with a spoon, garnering everyone’s attention. “Everyone, I thank you all for coming. When Abbacchio and I started this restaurant, it was with this goal in mind: to serve all of you with the best Italian food Naples has to offer, and thankfully, we’ve had our best sales this year,” he started speaking, encouraging everyone to applaud in thunderous roars.

“We even included a small classroom here so that the kids can study, thanks to my dear girlfriend, (F/N) (L/N).” Everyone cheered for the two of you this time, while Bruno placed a chaste kiss on your lips, and he said, “I love you, (Y/N).” As you were about to say, “I love you too,” you noticed the presence of a certain silhouette. You then continued stuttering, “you too. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” As you ran to the entrance, the silhouette now took the form of a silver-haired, blue-eyed, and shades-wearing man who smirked at you, saying “Y/N-chan!” Your breathing hitched, and your mouth gaped open, as you cried out loud, “Satoru!”

You were in the staff room, preparing your schedule for the week when you heard a couple of shrill voices screeching from outside the door, “It’s Satoru Gojo! The heir to the Gojo Industries! He’s going to be teaching here.” You rolled your eyes as you couldn’t be bothered about him. It was common knowledge that Gojo hailed from an influential family who wanted him to be an heir to their company. This was something that you’d heard often, but what you didn’t know and had learned about it recently, was that he did not want to listen to his parent's wishes. Defiant by nature, he supposedly cuts off ties with his family, studies at Tokyo University with Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri, become a top student, gains a master's and a doctorate in Economics, and takes up a job as an Economics professor in Tokyo University.

He then knocks on the door and calls out to you, “Hello there, beautiful!” You were disturbed from whatever you were doing and turned to talk down to him, but then you saw his eyes. His cerulean blue eyes. They really were blue, like no other. As you shook your head to bring you back to the present, you said, "I know you are new here, but could you please act professionally? You can't expect to be around women all the time." Gojo replied with a chuckle. As he leans forward to whisper in your ear, he says, "I know I can't expect anything, but I don't care how many women latch onto me, L/N-san. It's the only one I'm interested in." He smirks and chuckles as you widen your eyes at him, saying, "Have a good day, professor." You then roll your eyes at him.

The next few months would include both of you trying to bond, but Gojo’s nonchalant nature kept irking you constantly, which got him excited. Your banter was known to everyone, and everyone suspected a potential romance brewing. So, one day, You and Gojo were deciding to take additional classes for a couple of students. As you were about to leave the staff room, you opened the door to find it bolted. You banged on the door, asking people to let you out, but to no avail. You then check the time and it was past 9 PM. Reality dawned upon you. You and Gojo were stuck together. He immediately got excited at the idea.

“Come on, Y/N-chan! This will be fun, we can play truth or dare by ourselves.” You roll your eyes at him, and say, “It’s L/N-san to you, and how do you even know about my name?” He got into a thinking posture and said, “Oh, I think you were talking to Shoko the other day and that’s how I found out.” You were about to charge at him when he held you by your wrists and said, “come on, Y/N–chan. I know you secretly have a thing for me.” You scowled at him, only for him to lean towards you and kiss you. You had been kissed a couple of times before, but his kiss was full of passion and desire, yearning to be combusted. You may not have felt something for him, but you definitely wanted to get it out of your system. So, it was safe to say that you had your first time with him that night, over and over, and over again.

You two then began a six-month tryst of being friends with benefits and that’s when you learned that Gojo used to feel lonely at the top. Material wealth never brought him happiness, his parents made him feel worthless, but when he started teaching Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki, that’s when he felt like he belonged here. There were days where you were so tired of being treated like crap by the university that you’d dash into Gojo’s apartment and spent your day with him: you didn’t have sex, but you talked.

You even bonded with Suguru Geto and Dr. Shoko Ieiri, who were fellow professors in sports management and medicine respectively, and they helped you feel better in every way. One day, after you were done being intimate, Gojo looks at you and tells you, “Y/N-chan, thank you. For listening to me when no one else did, for helping me transition well, and for showing me that I am capable of falling in love.” You throw a small smile at him and say, “So, you finally fell for me, huh?” You chuckled but he did not move an inch. He nodded in agreement without speaking a word, causing you to be shocked. “Y/N-chan, will you be my girlfriend?” You nodded and charged forward to kiss him.

The next few years with Satoru went by like a breeze as you two only focused on your teaching jobs, your students, your friends, and each other. While the sex was on a whole another level, your relationship with Satoru had gotten deeper. He was a fan of excessive PDA so whenever he’d come to you, he’d either give you an Eskimo kiss, or a kiss on the temple or on your lips, just to piss the students off. It became obvious to everyone that you two were in love and couldn't be happier about it. What you two were unaware of, however, was the fact that Kento Nanami, the Gojo family’s trained assassin was lurking around in the shadows, analyzing the both of you.

Satoru has met your family and they liked him, often comparing you to him, filling the atmosphere with laughter galore. However whenever he was asked to introduce his family, he always brushed it off and he never introduced you to them, ‘cause when they did find out, Satoru was called for by his parents, who said that he had to come back to the company and that the university and you were spoiling him, however, he did not budge. You begged him about this issue and asked him, “what is the matter, Satoru? What are you not telling me?” He said, “growing up, my family was always rude to me, always mistreated me, abused me. And I’m supposed to act like it’s all okay? Y/N-chan, the Gojo Industries is actually a front, in reality, they trade drugs to different countries in the world. My parents want me to head the company and take over the trade. I don’t want to. I’m scared…”

Once he did tell you of his familial history, you heard a loud bang on the door. Nanami and Kiyotaka Ijichi broke into your apartment and while Nanami grabbed hold of you, Ijichi grabbed hold of Gojo and started mauling him. While you’re flailing your legs in the air and crying out “Satoru,” Nanami covers your mouth as he drags you into a room, muffling your screams. You could hear a myriad of punches on the other side of the door. Fear grips hold of you, with you feeling like your heart jumping out of the ribcage, sweat profusely escaping down all over, and your breathing being staggered.

The moment Nanami loosens his grip on your mouth, you scream out, “Satoru,” until the blond-haired, blue shirt, beige trousers and green tie-clad man covers your mouth tightly and whispers in your ear while clicking his tongue, “Tch, tch, tch. Did you really think Ijichi will stop? Just because he looks weak, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t a trained assassin. He very much is, just like I am. And I, Kento Nanami, come to bear news from Gojo’s family. Since they can’t get him married to any other person to further advance the control of the trade, because he’s dating you, you have to be the one to call it off. If you don’t break up with Satoru, if you don’t break up with him, his parents are capable of disowning and disposing of him, quietly and quickly. You don’t want that, do you?” This sent shivers down your spine, as your memories with Gojo flash before your eyes. He didn’t deserve to be involved in the midst of nefarious activities. All he wanted was to start a new life.

You nod your head in agreement, causing him to walk out of the room along with you, only for you to find Gojo’s face battered and bruised but smiling at you and then hugging him. Nanami and Ijichi escape, leading you to call Shoko and Suguru to the rescue. While Shoko was tending to Gojo’s bruises, you tell Suguru everything. “Suguru, I don’t know what to do. I love him, but…” He puts his hand on your shoulder, saying, “I know you do, Y/N, but, I have heard of Nanami. He never misses a mark, he always shoots at the target with 100% accuracy.” You glared at Suguru, surprised by what he just revealed to you. “Then, are you saying that I should call it off with him, huh? Where do I run off to?” Suguru then holds your shoulders and says, “wherever you feel you’ll be at peace, because trust me, Nanami will not stop chasing after you until you’re done with Gojo for sure.”

You then turn to Gojo, who is still recovering, and tell him, “We need to talk.” With Shoko and Suguru being witnesses to a beautiful relationship that has to forcefully break down, you tell Gojo this is too much for you and you need to break up. Gojo surprisingly nods in agreement, all the four of you embracing and crying in response. Later, you pack your bags and Suguru helps you book tickets to Italy and you leave the apartment, notwithstanding the fact that you were oblivious to Gojo’s silent sobs and his emotional spirit crumbling behind you.

In the present, you saw a man in a black full sleeve shirt, white trousers, and black shades. With his silver hair, this blue-eyed man immediately caught your attention. “Satoru,” you stutter, “what are you doing here?” He smiled at you, and said, “I came here for you.” You widen your eyes in confusion, “how come?” Exhaling, Gojo says, “I know the truth. About why you broke off with me, (Y/N)-chan. I’m not someone that needs to be saved. I can protect myself. So, with Suguru’s help, I looked into the routes that my parent’s company takes to trade drugs and it turns out that it supplies drugs to Italy. The gang’s name is…”

Your mouth gapes wide open, “Passione. Wait, does that mean…” That’s when you hear Bruno call out to you, and he sees Gojo. “Y/N,” he says softly, causing you to look at him bewildered. “What is going on, Bruno? What are you not telling me?” Sighing, Bruno fesses up. “Y/N, all of us, excluding Trish and including Giorno, are a part of Passione. I found out about Gojo, through one of the routes that his family company takes for trading. I’m in this organization to bring it down, along with Giorno.”

Hearing this causes you to look at both Gojo and Bruno with your face turning pale as you feel dizzy. You were unsure on whose hands to put your life in, causing you to lose your balance. As you are able to faint, you hear clangor around you as you steadied yourself and opened your eyes to see that Gojo has been shot. You turn in the direction of the gunshot to see Mista with his hands up and his pistol in his hand. “No, Y/N, I did not shoot on purpose, he made me do it,” pointing in the direction of what looked like Nanami appearing from the shadows.

You then realized that Nanami never stopped keeping tabs on either you or Gojo. You scream “Satoru,” as you run to him while Abbacchio and Fugo run to catch Nanami. When you see Gojo in a bloodied state as four bullets hit him, memories of your relationship flashes before your eyes. You start sobbing and crying, telling Gojo, “babe, it will be okay, please don’t die on me, please, please” and you swat Bruno’s hand off of you, screaming, “don’t touch me, liar,” as Bruno looks at the whole thing in shock. You were now sure that love definitely had a way of coming around and knocking you down, and you would never feel the same again.

© Shyna 2022

Did y’all think I’ll finish the story here? Hehehe. Not yet, friends. There’s a saying that goes in Hindi, “picture abhi baaki hai mere dost,” (there’s still the movie left, my friend), so if y’all want a part two for this, then this has to be reblogged and liked and commented on. Hehe. <33

Until then, have a good weekend ❤️

[imaginaryari]

Welcome to the Show

Part One

The prisoner looks up as her least favorite cop comes into the interrogation room. Officer Warren has awards for rounding up the enhanced, people like Silver. He walks and talks like a man the people respect and fear. Talks to the enhanced like they’re close on first name bases and revels in the fact that he put them in their cells. What she would give to lay one finger on him. That’s all she needs. Unfortunately, her hands are gloved and bound because officer Warren also knows that. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure officer.” She asks.

“How would you like to get out here?”

It’s a trap. Silver knows this. The enhanced don’t get second chances especially not from officer Warren. 

 “Wasn’t I supposed to rot in here? Just as you said?” Silver asks.

Officer Warren gives her a sick grin. “I thought you would be interested in parole but if you aren’t...there’s plenty of you in here. “

The promise of seeing the outside world again would sway anyone.

“How can I trust you?”

Officer Warren beckons one of the guards. “Remove her cuffs.”

“Sir?”

“Now, please.” Warren orders.

Silver immediately rubs her wrists when the cuffs click open. The relief is almost overwhelming. She quickly reminds herself not to do anything stupid, no matter how satisfying it would be to knock Warren’s lights out.

-

“There’s a group of enhanced kids going around and robbing people. Messing with their heads. You’re fond of doing that so I thought this would be the perfect way to end your sentence.” Warren had said as he escorted her out.

Silver squints. Nothing about that story adds up. Robbing civilians while common isn’t a team effort especially if you can mess with minds and memory. A group would actually draw more attention and a tight knit one wouldn’t take the risk of losing a member to officials. 

Unless your Silver’s ex. Hm. Things are starting to make sense. 

“You’ve tried to catch them before.” Silver states. 

Warren doesn’t even look ashamed admitting his failure. “Physical powers are one thing. Mental ones are harder. But from my experience you can catch ‘em with a little trust.” He begins to walk away, leaving Silver at the gates. “You have three weeks.”

—

It’s no fancy hotel, barely a motel, but it’s a place and it’s furnished. Officer Warren had said it was hers for as long as it took her to finish her task. Silver won’t complain, before she was arrested, she was constantly couch surfing. Never out staying her welcome and never spending too long on the streets. She had made friends this way but contacting them was out of the question. Getting caught means getting blacklisted. A means of protecting themselves. Well, Silver had been thrown under the bus. Semantics. She won’t see them again and hopefully they’re doing okay. 

She shakes her head, never mind that. She has a job to do and extraordinarily little to go on. 

The neighborhood is different. She didn’t expect it to be quite the same after lock-up but the changes are more than jarring. New buildings going up, less of the spots her old friends used to hang. Silver is so sure the neighborhood has been purged of the enhanced until she decides to hit up one of the cafés. She stares at it; upset she can’t remember what it used to be and then enters reading the weirdly named drinks on the menu.

“Are you new around here?” another patron asks.

“Not exactly,” Silver says with a shrug, eyeing the stranger. He’s handsome even if he looks like he should have taken a sip of his drink before speaking. The bags under his eyes scream exhaustion but he still sounds awake. And happy about it. “It’s just a while since I’ve been round here.”

“Ah, try the mint hot chocolate. It’s a crowd favorite.”

“Is that what you’re having?”

He chuckles. “No…this is way too caffeinated for the masses.”

“Is the inevitable crash worth it?” She asks.

“Always.” He says as Silver is called next to order. “See you around.” The stranger says exiting. She thinks about the encounter for hours afterwards. The enhanced were still around even if they were muted.

—

She finds what she’s looking for the next day, right before the sun sets. It’s a large tent set up in a nearby park. Big enough to draw attention but lacking the actual necessities to pass as a real circus. No animal trailers, no confection stands. To anyone paying attention there’s no possible way it could have been set up so quickly. Definitely the work of the enhanced. 

Civilians flock to the tent with the promise of entertainment. Silver by-passes the line and taps a potential viewer on their shoulder. “You don’t really want to see this show, right? I can take that ticket off you.” The man blinks and then hands over his ticket. Silver quickly takes it and makes her way to her seat.

-

The spotlight lowers, illuminating what has to be the ringleader. He’s barely dressed for the occasion. Top hat donned but instead of a blaring red jacket, a black T-shirt with a tuxedo print and black jeans contrasting nicely with white sneakers. 

“Hello everyone. Welcome to your wildest dreams. I’ll be your guide. Whenever you need me you can shout More!” Silver snorts at the corny introduction but still applauds with the crowd. It takes a moment but she recognizes him. The man from the café with the over caffeinated drink. Interesting. So far he’s just the host, maybe the leader of this whole operation, but Silver can’t place an ability just yet.

“Please give a round of applause to our first act, Mirage, master of illusion.”

Silver is willing to bet he’s the one responsible for the tent. His set isn’t too extravagant; he just has smoke and card tricks. It’s what he does with them that counts. Shifting the smoke to look like a bird that soars over the crowd. It lands ever so gently on the empty seat in front of one of the viewers. The spotlight shifts to them, a young boy, and he offers a nervous smile, not prepared for the attention. The guest looks to Mirage who gives a cocky smile. “Blow it away.” He instructs through his mic. With a shrug he does. The smoke dissipates to reveal a real bird. A stark white dove. The young boy reaches for it face lit up in wonder, but it takes off landing right on Mirages shoulder. He pets it to prove its real and the dove seems to love it. However, it then dissipates into smoke after Mirage blows on it. That confirms it for Silver, the dude simply makes illusions.

“I need a volunteer for my next trick.” Mirage says.

He and More look around at the audience and More locks eyes with Silver. There’s a connection, a shock of understanding, and something else she can’t quite place before he says, “You, cutie with the hood. Would you like to help Mirage?”

Silver nods unable to break eye contact.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just a simple card trick.” Mirage says, a deck of cards pulled from his pockets. Silver keeps her head down and her hood on as she walks into the ring. She wasn’t supposed to draw attention. More finally backs away giving Mirage the stage.

It is a simple card trick, with a lot of flourish. Silver selects a card, memorizes it, puts it back in the deck. Mirage is skilled making the cards seem to dance, shuffling and tossing them even pulling some from behind Silver. Sleight of hand can be learned, however,

“Is this your card?”

“It sure looks like it!” Silver says, and the audience applauds. Her choice in words don’t go unnoticed by Mirage. He smiles, like he just learned a juicy secret and gestures for Silver to return to her seat.

More passes her on his way back to the stage and gives her a similar smile to Mirage’s. She can’t help but feel she shouldn’t have done that.

“Our next act goes by Charlie. He doesn’t say much but he’s loads of fun!”

Silver immediately understands how the next act earned his name. Charlie dances out, encompassing Chaplin’s energy. He dons a similar top hat to More, and shirt except his is white instead. More comments on this with a laugh. “Clearly one of us has to change!” As corny as Silver finds More, she can’t say she’s not amused. Charlie looks More up and down, and then gets into a stance. He’s posed like a batter on home base and leans back and forth on his toes. He swings and More ducks, his top hat flying across the ring as if a real bat had hit it. The trick ears them impressed gasps and amused giggles from the audience. From Silver it earns a disbelieving stare. She’s never seen an enhanced like Charlie yet.

Charlie continues, his set like any traditional mime. Tripping over objects that aren’t there, pushing invisible walls, overexaggerating his facial expressions. Except Silver thinks, knows, he isn’t. There is a wall the audience can’t see. Silver can’t prove it, and wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining Charlie to officer Warren.

“Give it up for Charlie everyone!” More says shaking Silver from her thoughts. Charlie leaves the stage with the same comedic swagger and a wave.

“Now our next act is unfortunately our last. But we always go out with a bang! Please welcome to the ring, Star!”

With the snap of More’s fingers the lights go out. Another snap and they’re back, along with a woman sitting on a trapeze. She’s beyond beautiful, it could be the lighting, or the slight shimmer she has, but she’s captivating all the same. Her hair is pulled into two puffs and her smile dazzles the audience. Silver notes that there is no apparent netting beneath her, that should be concerning.

The music starts, a haunting melody punctuated by a bass that Silver feels in her chest. Star is flying above the audience on her trapeze. She hangs by her legs and lets her arms hang. If Silver focuses, she can see what looks like dust, her charisma spills off of her, entrancing the audience. She makes another mental note, three out of four isn’t bad. Maybe she wrong about him being enhanced. He could just be the fall guy if this all goes to shit. Authorities like Warren wouldn’t keep a powerless civilian. It’s smart. The doubt lingers. She knows what she felt.

Silver almost misses the end. Stars trapeze returns to the ring and she waves before letting go and falling to the ground. The audience gasps bracing for an impact that never comes. Star vanishes in a puff of smoke that settles all over the ring. The applause is stuttered out, the crowd is impressed and worried.

When the smoke clears the applause picks back up as all the performers are safe, taking their bows.

“Thank you all for coming!” More says. The lights go out. When they come back on the group is gone. Well, that’s one way to end things.

-

“Like the show?” A voice comes up from behind Silver. She’s just as dazzling up close and silver can see how she captivates the audience. The charisma wisps around her like smoke. 

“Sure did. Wasn’t expecting to be part of it though.”

“Yeah, More can be a bit impulsive,” Star says apologetically. She steps closer to whisper. “But his guess was right! You are like us.” 

“All of you? Special?”

“Yup!”

“What gave me away?”

“You didn’t immediately fall for my charm.”

“...really?”

“That and More caught you using your gift to get a ticket.”

“Also caught her struggling to order at the café,” More says rounding on them. “We should stop meeting like this.”

[thisentertaining]

Avatar: The Last Archivist

The main characters from Avatar: The Last Airbender as different Avatars from The Magnus Archives.

I did 14 characters, one for each entity. 

Trigger Warnings: Basically every TMA entity. Specifically mentions of claustrophobia, cannibalism, suicide, manipulation, ect.

____

There is a boy, with eyes like a stormcloud, deep and fathomless. He has arrows tattooed on his head, on his arms. When you ask about them he laughs, and says ‘when I’m upside down’ as though that was all the explanation. He asks if you want to do something fun, a roller coaster, skydiving, a trampoline park. When you agree, it is fun, at first. You close your eyes to protect them from the rushing wind. When you open them again, the ground is gone. There is no down. There is only sky, and you are falling. Beside you he laughs, bright and joyous and childlike, though it can hardly be heard over your screams. His arrows are pointed up, wherever that is. As he cannonballs past you for the 3rd, 8th, 19th, 76th time he says that ‘fear is what makes it fun’. His ‘woops’ cover your sobs.

There is a girl, dressed in blue with loops in her dark brown hair. She watches you with soft, sad eyes and says ‘It’s so sad, isn’t it? Being the last.’ ‘The last what?’ you ask, but you know. ‘The last of your kind. There is no one to teach you how to reach your potential. You’ll never be able to train anyone to be like you. You’re the last.’ ‘I am.’ You say, feeling cold as a painful pressure settles on your chest. It feel like you could drown in your loneliness.

There is a boy, one who looks similar to the girl, who loves meat. Grilled, roasted, stuffed, boiled, hunted, farmed or store bought. Any kind of meat, cooked in any manner, at any time. In the moments where he is not eating meat, he is thinking about it. He eats, and he eats, and he eats, until he is long since the point of caring what the meat is. Who the meat is. As he finishes his plate he looks to you and licks his lips.

 There is another boy, pale of skin and gold of eye, with a burn that stretches across his face. “I will capture my prey.” He vows. “And then my honor will be restored.” He hunts, and he tracks, and he follows a prey that can never escape. If you find yourself his prey, you can hide and run and fight, but will sone find his claws surrounding you. However, even as he catches you, his mind is on his next target, for his prey is not what he truly seeks. He will never achieve what he really wants, but still he hunts for it. He knows that the capture is the least thrilling part of the chase.

 With him travels an older man, a man who is kindly, portly and always grants a smile. He offers you a cup of tea and a game of Pai Sho, but from your first sip and his first move, he Knows you far better than you know yourself. He gives you tea exactly as you like it, and every move you make he has something to meet it. His words are proverbs and pretty saying, but all touch a part of you that he should not know. He Knows. He Sees.

 There is an island in this world, where women with painted faces and fans of blades congregate. Practice. Fight. They learn to use the force of others against themselves. They learn to go for the throat They are more willing to fight than to ask questions. In the water there is a monster that they feed the ships that dare get close. In their hearts there is a monster that they feed the souls of those who survive to reach the land. Tearing them apart until blood and bone can be used to paint warnings on their faces.

 There is a boy. He is at home in the woods, living in the trees and filth and gime. He collect people. Children. They build homes in bug-filled trees until they have their own hive infesting the forest. A piece of wheat sticks in his mouth, green-blue and fuzzy with mold. He sees sickness in those that invade his home. He sees corruption in those outside of his hive. He stands at the foot of a dam, working on the logs until rot eats through them, purging the woods of the existing host and giving more room for his parasitic hive to grow.

 There is a girl with long white hair. She has a kind smile, and mourning eyes. She tells you ‘You’ve always known that this was your fate.’ And you realize that you did. ‘You were given life for a reason, it makes sense that this would be asked of you.’ It did. What reason did you have to live except for this. You always knew it would come to this. ‘You are doing this for your people. It is your duty. It is a noble sacrifice.” You nod. You take whatever it is she offers you. And you End.

 There is a man who is in the dark. He does not see truth, does not see life. He walks in the dark and in doing so imagines himself bigger than he is, and imagines others as smaller. He wishes to spread his darkness, an insipid thing that seems to be a tangible presence in any room he is in. When you are near him, colors leech away to a point that the world seems to exist in black and white and grey, no matter how much light or color you attempt to introduce. If given enough power, he would gladly blot out the light of the moon itself, plunging the night into wholly his domain.

 There is a young girl whose feet never leave the ground. In her hair there is a constant layer of dirt and dirt. Her eyes are milky-white, but she never trips and never struggles. You ask her if she needs help and she laughs and laughs and laugh. She seems to grow as she does, until you realize that you are sinking. You are up to your ankles-shins-knees-thighs- in the dirt. She says that she cannot see, but in the ground she is no difference for her or anyone else. She says that one cannot stumble or trip or fall if they cannot move because of the ground’s embrace. She says that strength and sight and title means nothing to the earth. She sinks into the ground with a happy sigh right as the ground meets your eyes. Then you can see no more, and as she said, the earth cares not for your struggles.

 There is a girl who is an acrobat in the circus. One may assume she would be a stranger, but no. She is quick to introduce herself, to identify herself apart from those she is often lumped with. However, there is something… not right. Her body bends and moves in a way that it Should Not, that the human body Can Not. She twists and flips and bends until her form is completely unidentifiable as one of flesh and blood and bones like yours. Her smile stretches a bit wider than lips should allow. She can make you do things, or make you stop, a few simple pokes and your body will no longer listen to your mind. A few more nudges and your mind will no longer listen to you.

 Her friend is a Stranger though. A girl wo dresses plainly, with a face as expressionless as a mannequin and a voice that is as dry and as bland as an uncooked grain of rice. She holds knives sharp enough to flay your skin from your body. Sharp enough to flay your identify from your self. She reacts to little and speaks to less. You may know her name, but she will never allow you to know who she is.

 The acrobat and the stranger dance and dangle at the strings of the web. Their friend, a girl of sharp features and a sharper mind. She wields cruelty and knowledge and vulnerability as tools, weapons that allow her to say and do exactly what she needs to make others follow her desires. She will talk to you, and she will lead you. You will follow her without question, without thought, until your feet are stuck fast in spider silk. She can lead anyone into her web with a smile. All but one. She has never dared try to ensnare her Father.

 The girl’s father is cruel. He has ambition that supersedes the ability of every man, and does not care for consequences so long as he advances for his personal goals. He will burn through a bush and care not for the wildfire he started behind him so long as he can continue further. If anything, he will delight in having caused it. No one is safe from the destruction. Not his people, whom he destroys without reason and without care. He delights in the anguish they feel and the anguish their demise causes. Not his son, who bears his burn and hunts for an honor never lost. Not the world, which is slowly being burned around him. Not an ember touches his skin. If her were to burn you, he would likely never notice.  

 Aang – The Vast

Katara – The Lonely

Sokka – The Flesh

Zuko – The Hunt

Iroh – The Eye

Suki/Kyoshi Warriors – The Slaughter

Jet – The Corruption

Yue – The End

Zhao – The Dark

Toph – The Buried

Ty Lee – The Spiral

Mai – The Stranger

Azula – The Web

Ozai – The Desolation

 Thanks for reading!!  

Yeah, I don’t know either. But if anyone else is a fan of these and wants to make fanart of Martin and Iroh drinking tea together and complaining about loving over-dramatic nerds who do not react normally to acts of love and kindness, you would have my eternal thank.

[going-fancognito]

Hey i got a ask what about the other champions for jealous yandares (sorry if im buggin u)

You’re totally not bugging me @batmanisepic, thank you for taking the time to send me a request :D  Ok, so it was only after I finished writing this that I  noticed the jealousy part in the request. My bad, haha. Hopefully this is ok though. If you still wish for a version that focuses more on the jealousy part, feel free to send me another ask and I’ll be happy to do it :)

(Warning; minor mentions of death in Urbosa’s section)

Link:

Is the obsessive stalker type

Good luck avoiding him

Being Zeldas personal guard has made Link a professional at tracking

You’d be one of the reasons he hasn’t gone off to fight Ganon right away

You’ll always feel like you’re being watched, but can never seem to find  anything whenever you check

Little do you know, there’s little shadow hiding out of sight, as it follows you home

He even has his own private viewing spot near your window, to watch you go to bed

He doesn’t need to sleep much himself, so he’s can watch you all night without trouble

If anyone opened his sheikah slate, they’d see his album was completely filled with photos of you

He seems to lose the ability to speak whenever he tries to talk with you

So for now, he settles for simply admiring you at a distance

If he overhears you mentioning something you want, you’ll find it lying on your doorstep the next morning

Just hope that he never hears you complaining about someone

It could be over a spat with your friend or a minor slight from the neighbours

It doesn’t matter to him.  Whoever it was, they hurt you

Link’s not going to let that slide

Your town might suddenly become a bit quieter after that

Consider it a favour from the champion, whether you wanted it or not

He’s happy to dispose the trash that dares bother you

Urbosa:

The projective restraining type

The death of Zeldas mother takes a larger toll then she thought

It doesn’t really show though, until one day she spots you visiting her town

Your resemblance to her late friend was striking

You later receive a personal invite to dine with the Gerudo chief that evening

It’s a bit perplexing that you were being invited by the Chief herself, but who were you to pass up the opportunity?

The night goes surprisingly well. Urbosa explains that she enjoys welcoming new visitors whenever she can find the time

(Psst. Spoiler alert, she’s lying.)

Many noble pursuits later, you somehow find yourself sharing your entire life story with her, down to the very last detail

If you weren’t so tipsy, maybe you would’ve noticed how your drinking buddy was listening a bit too intent-sly

It’s not too long after that you black out

When you wake up the next morning, you’re in an unfamiliar room

There’s only one door in the room, but find that it’s locked when you tried to open it

After pounding on the door and shouting for help, the door finally swings open, and Urbosa steps inside with a tray filled with your favourite foods

“Ah, I’m glad to see you awake little Vai.” She winks at you. “I was worried the drinks may have been too strong for you last night.”

She doesn’t give any straight answers to your questions, just telling you to “Enjoy your time here.”

In truth, you were locked in a hidden room located in Urbosas private quarters

No one but the current chief knows about its existed

It was the safest place in the desert, and only she had access to it

She lost her dear friend once, and doesn’t wish to repeat the experience

Provides you with whatever you request for

The only exception is your freedom

In exchange, you become a kind of comfort doll to her

Dresses you in outfits the late queen favoured, and talks to you about old memories of her until you have them memorized by heart

There's no escape from there. The only exit's either locked, or being blocked by an 8 ft. Gerudo fives times your strength

At one point starts telling you about Zelda, and how she’s fared growing up

She also mentions that she looks forward to reuniting you with “your” daughter

That day never comes, as she falls later to the Thunder Blight on Vah Naboris

No one else knows about Urbosas secret room, or of the Hylian trapped within

You’re left to rot inside, trapped for the next century or so

(See, this is why there should be royal therapists guys)

Mipha:

(Oh sweet cheese and crackers, why am I corrupting the sweet bean?)

Nope, can’t do it

I physically cannot see this girl as anything but a sweetheart

Like, she’s a badass. But a pure-hearted badass nonetheless

If she was a yandere, she’d probably be a harmless type

She’d still be obsessed with you like a typical yandere, but her main desire revolves around your personal happiness

Won’t do anything crazy to those close to you, because she knows that would cause you heartbreak

Her mantra is basically “As long as they’re happy, I’m happy”

(Can-I’m sorry, can someone please give this girl a hug? Because Dear Hylia, she deserves so much better.)

(You’ve done Mipha wrong, Botw. I love you, but you’ve done her wrong.)

Daruk:

The other Gorons try to talk Daruk down as they slowly approached him

“Take it easy boss, we just wanna-”

He just swings his boulder breaker around at anyone who starts to get too close

“None of you are getting ‘yer grubby mitts near them, so BACK OFF!!”

The group gets nervous. No one’s ever seen Daruk act so aggressive or hostile before

Even Link can’t get through to the mighty Champion.

Daruk just holds his breaker out again, pointing it towards him in warning

“I’m sorry little guy, but you gotta understand why I can’t back down.”

Link tries to push forward, but his friend’s too far gone at this point

“Just leave us alone, brother. No-one needs to get hurt.”

Eventually, the young champion gives up.

He figured if he couldn’t get through to him, no one can.

Link starts herding the other Gorons out of the area

Reluctantly, they follow him back to town. A somber mood hangs heavily among them

Once they’re all out of sight, Daruk finally relaxes and lowers his weapon

He sits down and takes a moment to grin down at his prize. A few of the Gorons can still be heard in the distance

“Geez, he could’ve shared some with us!”

Daruk ignores their groaning and takes a large bite, savouring the fresh taste of mineral that warms his tongue

He should probably feel bad, but it was the best Rock Roast he’s ever cooked

He plans to enjoy every bit of it

[imaginejamesandsirius]

fic where sirius runs away from his house after walburga and orion go way too far, so he rocks up at james’ with a butload of injuries but it’s ok because they’re all soft and there’s love confessions and fluff 🤒

((A/N: Mentions of child abuse but nothing graphic))

The Potter parents had long ago extended an open invitation to Sirius: any time, night or day, Sirius was allowed to walk right in. He didn't have to call first, and he didn't have to knock. "Any time at all, dear," Mrs. Potter had said with a kind, too-perceptive smile. "You can have a reason-- or not. It doesn't matter." She knew what went on at the Black household behind closed doors. If she didn't know for sure, she at least had a good idea. 

Sirius had wanted to pretend like he didn't need their help, but he'd found himself sneaking out of Grimmauld Place more than once over the years. 

This time was worse than the rest. He walked in, shaking. After he closed the door, he didn't know what to do. He leaned against the wall next to it and slowly slid down until he was sitting. He tugged ineffectually at the knots on his boots. The laces were wet, and his hands were cold from the rain. And he was still shaking. The familiar smell of their home made him feel safe, and the adrenaline was leaving him at a rapid pace. He managed to get his shoes off, and a few tugs later found his soaked socks resting on their good hardwood. 

He was too tired to get to his feet, and he didn't think his legs would hold him right now, anyways. He brought his knees up to his chest and leaned heavily against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. The sound of rain outside the front door soothed some of his nerves; he liked storms. If he were here under other circumstances, he'd turn into Padfoot and go play in the yard. As it stood, he stayed where he was and avoided taking any breaths that were too deep since doing so would make his ribs hurt with a sharp pain. 

He sat in the entryway on the floor for long enough that an ache had settled into the parts of him that he was putting weight on. Gingerly, he got to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall on the floor, then he ambled towards the living room. Their couch was bloody comfortable, Sirius knew from previous use. It would be easy to fall asleep there. He wanted to go upstairs and crawl into bed with James because James always made him feel better, but he didn't have faith in his ability to make it up all of the stairs on his own. 

There was a blanket over the back of the couch-- one that Mr. Potter had made while recovering from a potion's accident-- and Sirius pulled it into his hands before he sat down. 

He fell into a fitful sleep, and it was only a couple hours later when he woke up to James saying, "Sirius?" 

"Hey," he said, peeking an eye open to look at his best mate. 

"Why didn't you come up? You know I wouldn't have minded." 

"Too tired," Sirius said. 

"You want some help getting there?" James offered. 

"Sure." When he got to his feet, he didn't put the blanket down. He was groggy enough that he didn't consciously think about it, but he would've resisted if James tried to get him to leave it here. 

*

The next morning, Sirius was aware of more aches and pains than he had been when he came in. Naively, he'd thought that that meant he wasn't as badly hurt as he'd thought whenever he left. 

All the deep bruises and bleeding cuts in the world didn't hurt as bad as what Mr. Potter found on the doorstep, though: a bag of Sirius's things. Sirius hadn't been the one to pack it, and he sure as hell hadn't let it trail behind him all night long as he'd made his way here. There wasn't a letter attached to it; there didn't need to be. 

Sirius had hated living in Grimmauld Place. He'd hated his parents and every moment he'd spent around them was a moment he desperately wished he could be somewhere else. So why the hell did it hurt so bad to be kicked out? After all, he'd been the one to leave last night, like he always did. His parents were the ones to send the message that he shouldn't come back, and it hit a lot harder than Sirius would've liked. 

Swiftly on the news of telling Sirius that his belongings had been left on their door, Mr. Potter assured him that he could stay with them. "Until we die, and probably after that too," Mr. Potter had said with a brief, joking smile. None of them knew how to comfort Sirius about this. Sirius didn't know if he even wanted to be comforted. 

As always, James was there. 

In a move that surprised Sirius, James managed to make him feel better. James was usually good about that sort of thing-- he was practically an expert in cheering Sirius up after so many years of friendship-- but Sirius had rather thought that he was going to be in a poor mood for at least a week before he started to even out. 

"I've got good news," James declared. 

If Sirius were in a usual temperament, he would've made a joke about how James's existence was always good news, but what made today extra special? He wasn't in a joking sort of mood though, so he said, "What?" 

"I love you." 

"That's hardly news." 

"Is it news if I say I fancy you?" 

"Do you?" Sirius asked. 

"Course I do. And I know that you're not in the sort of mood to be dealing with any of it, but I wanted to let you know that just because your parents are pants at loving you doesn't make it impossible. And you may not want to hear it, but I'm happy you're away from them. I know they're your parents and family means a lot to the Black family, but you don't need them. You need... us. You and me, and Mum and Dad, and Moony and Wormtail. Your bloody parents and cousins can rot. Except for Andromeda," James added thoughtfully. "She's nice." 

Sirius blinked at him. "I feel like you're trying to distract me from your rather unspectacular love confession. I deserve fireworks, Prongs." He spread his hands to show the absence. "I don't see any fireworks." 

"There are fireworks in my heart," James tried, pairing it with a beaming smile. 

It was like a dam broke in Sirius. Since getting the news that he'd been kicked out, he'd been sad at first, and then fallen into something like numb depression. He'd been sad, but he'd also felt like he couldn't feel anything. It was a stupid joke. Barely a joke and more of an attempt to shift the focus from how un-monumental of love confession it had been. In the past, when Sirius had dreamt about James telling him that he fancied him, it had been far nicer. Usually, they were sitting on the same bed reading books they'd sneaked out of the Forbidden Section and joking around, and then James would look at him and Sirius would know what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. Other times they were in Hogsmeade at Zonko's or Three Broomsticks while Wormtail and Moony were doing something else, and James would put an arm around him and kiss him like there was almost nothing different. Sometimes there were flowers. A lot of times, when Sirius was laying in bed at night and dreaming of the world-stopping romance he wanted his life to be, James would have this big long speech about how long he'd loved Sirius and how it was all he'd been able to think about so he had to tell him because he couldn't hold it in any longer. 

The point is, he'd always imagined it to be happy. Maybe it was a regular day, or maybe it was a day when Sirius was particularly happy, but it had always been a scenario where things were already going well. He'd never imagined that it would happen like this, with him feeling like so much rubbish and James announcing it as easily as if he were sharing news that they had gotten restocked on dungbombs. 

And he'd certainly never imagined that he would break into hysterical laughter that quickly turned into full on sobbing. In this moment, all he should want was to focus on James and what he'd just admitted, but it finally hit him that he was never going home again. That he had no one to call his parents, no back-up for when he got in trouble-- which he inevitably would. 

He pitched himself into James's arms and clung to him as he cried it out. It was... cathartic, he supposed. He actually felt better by the time he stopped. 

James was rubbing his back, he noticed. A warm comfort that reminded him of getting his head pat when he was Padfoot. "Are you okay?" James asked quietly. 

"Better than before," Sirius said. He wiped at his face with his hands but didn't stop leaning on James. "I can't believe you waited until my parents disowned me to tell me that." 

"I didn't mean to make you feel worse," he muttered. 

Sirius shook his head. "You didn't." Normally, he would've taken the opportunity to pull James into a kiss, but his face was kind of disgusting right now and that's not how he wanted their first kiss to be. "I erm, I mean, I fancy you too. You didn't make me feel worse. I just wasn't expecting it." 

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Until Forever - Sirius Black

Hey you beautiful people! Last chapter of Part I. 

MASTERLIST I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X |XI | XII | XIII

Chapter 14. 1978.

           Darkness was infinite and pain would linger on forever. There was no hope; hope was the biggest illusion human kind had manufactured in order to keep going when there was absolutely no fucking point. A black void was everything that ever was; nothing more that the absolute nothing. She felt weightless, as if the waves of the raging black sea could tear her to pieces, throw her to the rocks. Then, she felt as heavy as the universe – drowning in the mere thought of water. Her body felt tired, her mind was restless; not in a good way. She though that life went on but to her, that was the saddest part of it all.            It could end two ways, both equally tragic. Either she would die amongst the rest or she would live. She didn’t know what worse. Truly, never having the chance to see her family again or staying behind? Her entire body got goosebumps and her hands were trembling. She had tried to drink her problems away, just for a few hours, but it only made her sadder, lonelier.                Until she left. She wasn’t celebrating – she couldn’t celebrate the new year. Each passing second, fate was approaching them, faster than she had ever realized. Usually, it was the past that made people sad; well, she was the exception to that as well. She really wanted to go home, for this to be over, to give up Hogwarts and magic and the people. She just wanted her home back, her life, her choices – the ability to choose.                          She was making a run for it. After half an hour of pretending, she said her goodnight, only to few people – well, to the Potters. She couldn’t deal with questions and avoided them like bullets. Once the doors closed behind her, all the silence of the world crushed upon her; and it was louder than the loudest sound. It was suffocatingly loud. Refusing to go back inside, she climbed to her room, kicking her heels off, before even closing the door. A soft tune was stuck in her mind and the Greek poem that accompanied it – the moonlight sonata.              

Let me come with you.

This house can’t bear me anymore.

I cannot endure to bear it on my back.

You must always be careful, be careful,

to hold up the wall with the large buffet

to hold up the table with the chairs

to hold up the chairs with your hands

to place your shoulder under the hanging beam.

And the piano, like a closed black coffin. You do not dare to open it.

You have to be so careful, so careful, lest they fall, lest you fall. I cannot bear it.

Let me come with you.

This house, despite all its dead, has no intention of dying.

It insists on living with its dead

on living off its dead

on living off of the certainty of its death

and on still keeping house for its dead, the rotting beds and shelves.

Let me come with you.

Oh, are you going? Goodnight. No, I won’t come. Goodnight.

I’ll be going myself in a little. Thank you.

              She softly spoke the words to the still air as she was looking outside of her window, a wave of nostalgia crushing to her like a tsunami. She was deep into her thoughts, into her world of roses, poems, stardust and a serene chaos. She felt at peace in the midst of a hurricane, within dramatic lines, written by poets with elegant noses and strong beliefs. The music kept repeating memories, stirring them up as it went on. She didn’t want a happy ending, she sadly realized; she wanted tragedy, passion and catastrophe; she wanted everything and nothing. She wanted absolution. Just like every heroine in the ancient tragedies; it was in her nature.                      He didn’t dare to speak, to make a sound; he held his breath in fear of waking up from the tender dream he was having; a vision right before his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but he felt pulled towards her as if he had no other place to be; as if he was meant to be in her room. She knew that someone was watching her, and she already guessed who but took her time to face with him, with an all-knowing smile.               He was caught of guard, trying to retain his posture and temper or he would just turn around and run away for good. Feeling rather ashamed that he got caught, not that he was invading her privacy, he looked at the floor, blushing ever so slightly. She really didn’t mind. How could she?                    “Do you like it?” she airily asked him, as she remained by the window. He gulped. He knew she was talking about the poem he heard her recite but he couldn’t shake her image, entering the ballroom. Yes, he loved it.                        “I didn’t know that one” he admitted quite subtly. She wasn’t surprised; it was by a Greek poet and it was an intense portrayal of the subject of loneliness and alienation of the uncommitted individual. The lady in the poem represented that part of the old world, which the poet thought it was condemned to perish with its aristocratic past because of its aversion to adapt and participate in the process of change. She thought that if anyone understood that feeling, was him.              “I know” she melodiously informed him. She was enticing and it was hard for him to stay away. Not that he wanted to, in any case. No, he didn’t know which magical poem had stolen her heart but he did know that she was standing under the moonlight, her essence becoming ethereal. How evident it became? She didn’t believe in happiness and that scared him; he could feel for her but even he believed that there has to be a better way, it has to get better. She seemed to contradict him by simply suggesting that there was no point in … well, anything.              Such a hopeless wanderer’s soul, she had. She was made from a different material, a nihilist and an idealist, a desperate romantic and a catastrophic pragmatist. How wonderfully vague her outlines were. Maybe it was because she was wearing a gold waterfall for a dress, but he knew better – he just couldn’t stop gawking.; to be fair he was an 18-year-old boy.            “Why did you leave so soon?” he asked her without hesitation, as if al the barriers had collapsed under the moonlight. She solely focused on his eyes and he could not avert his gaze.                   “Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques - I believe it is” she quoted Verlaine and that, he did know. Sad beneath fantastic disguises. Why would she ever feel that way? He was only fooling himself. He was lying, pretending not to feel the way he did, pretending that there was nothing between them, pretending he was happy torturing Marlene, pretending everything was fine and the way they were supposed to be.         “Votre âme est un paysage choisi” he quoted back, letting her know that his French was so much better than hers and that he paid attention to the details. He truly did. It was almost inappropriate for her to like him or even to think about how his eyes shined liked spilled mercury under the moonlight. However, the biggest problem was that it was unrequited.                             He took one step towards her direction, fully aware of the fragile moment they shared. She saw the shift in his eyes and her entire mind was screaming to her to shut up. Everyone else was probably celebrating in the midst of an upcoming war but she was fighting another one all on her own. Keeping secrets from the people whom their fates were sealed and she could not do a thing was becoming heavier by the second and that broke her.        

           “What – what is really happening here, love?” he questioned her with a slight anger lingering on in his voice – anger that he didn’t know he was experiencing. She was surprised by the very thought of him being angry. He wasn’t angry at her per se, he was really shaken off about not being in the known, having blanks that he had to fill by himself when it should have been her answers instead of his imagination.              She wanted to tell him everything and then her mind went to the time he spent in prison for no reason at all, and she swallowed hard. How would she ever be able to come clean about that. Remus was a bit easier – yes, he was still very hurt and shocked and everything in the middle but Sirius… it was always different with him. It was always different when it came to him – she was …                  “I want to tell you but it’s too much. Please don’t ask me to be honest with you. Not on that level. Anything else, I will answer. Not that” she finally told him. At least, she was acknowledging all the hypocrisy and all the lying, he thought. He wasn’t looking for that answer though, he wanted the real reason behind her entire existence in his life, and so he closed the gap between them. His tall frame was towering over her, her back was pressed to the wall next to the window and his eyes were piercing her face for clues.                    “No. You don’t get to do that. I have been nothing but honest with you about everything. You don’t get to hide now” he pushed further, making her arch her eyebrow. As he realized that he had overstepped the boundaries, he tried to take a step back but her finger was already poking his chest through his unbuttoned shirt and undone tie.                  “You? Honest? Really? Is that what you tell yourself before you go to sleep? That you are honest with me? Or that you’re honest with yourself? Because neither -                        “Fine, what do you want me to say?” he cut her off, revealing his hot temper with a flush that appeared in his face – something she had never seen before and she had to remind herself that this Sirius was not the one from the books. He wasn’t a character anymore; he was a real person – breathing down on her.                            She closed her eyes, not wanting to create any more tension that what had already been created but he was not having it. He wanted answers, now more than ever, even if he knew that he, himself, had been lying all that time – this was not the same. He was lying about his feelings; she was lying about everything.                        “Who are you? Who could you possibly be to come here through the fucking sky? To come here and turn everything upside down. To make me question things that I thought I had figured out long ago. To make me jealous of my own best friend and to make me want to destroy every sound thing. Who are you?” he bombarded her with accusations that he wanted figured out now. And all it took was one hot second before she screamed the answers back to him, each hitting like a bullet to his heart, each being louder and louder only to finish off with a dead silence.                        “You think you are the one suffering? I have been trapped here for too long, I miss my home, my family, my life. I want out. I am done playing a stupid part in this scenario. I know everything. I know how are you going to end up, when, where, who dies, who lives, who fucking betrays – because I came from the sky. The fucking sky. I don’t know how or even who I am anymore. I thought you were a book character and every single thing was only real in my imagination and the pages of seven books. But no. I fucking live in the damn past – not mine. NO. A past from a different possibility. Twenty years before my birth date. And of course, out of every mistake I could possibly make, every choice gone mad, I had to - ”.

           Usually, there were two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When people were afraid, they tend to pull back from life, when in love, the open up to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement and acceptance. And while fear was easier, almost natural to them, they knew that they had to step outside their comfort zone.                  Not finishing off her sentence, leaving it there hanging in the middle of the thick air between them, was her way of giving him space to decide and her a breather. Her mind was yelling at her to stop and think about all those things that actually mattered but not every act was a result of sensibility. Her accusing finger was still on his chest; as a matter of fact, her entire palm was being pressed against his skin – not his shirt anymore. The information was not new to him; he knew, deep down he did.              Each night before he would fall asleep, he was trying to decode and figure her out, even just a bit. He was repeating the things she had said during the day, realizing just how much of an insight she had and wondering if it was just that or… It started of small, a few words of more than wisdom were spoken, a few things were said that she could not possibly know about… and the ever-present aura of secrecy. Her tattoos were one thing, her words were another. It wasn’t news to him and she noticed that. Her anger calmed down to a side smile.                “But you already knew” she concluded and her touch became gentler against his chest. Gentle as a fire. He looked at her with a desperate look, as if he wanted to do so much, to say so much but couldn’t. Sirius was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater.             Instead of pushing her against the wall and kissing her like he had already pictured in his head about a million times, he stepped back and he sat on the bed, eyes always glued to her.              “I think I did” he agreed, more to his own mind than to her words. She took a deep breath and used the chair in front of the boudoir, to the left of the big window, facing him while at the same time keeping her distance.                          “I still don’t think I can tell you everything, Sirius” she softly apologized but he shook his head.                    “It’s okay. It’s okay if I am the one dying, love, or the one going mad. You will tell when or if you’re ready. I’m sorry for… this” he said, indicating the space between them but she brushed it off. How much longer would she able to keep it hidden from James and Peter, she didn’t know.                  “Sirius… it’s not that simple. I know what I know from the books. So, basically, from I come from, the dimension and the time period, you, the boys, Hogwarts… magic, everything is fiction and contained within seven books that are not even about you. While these books go on, you are older and have gone through a lot. I know that part. I don’t know if it will happen the way it was supposed to, since I am here and I wasn’t supposed to, I think, but I also can’t change much in this plot. Or even if I can, I don’t know if I should. Messing with time and history is not something I am looking forward to do. Although, if I could change some things, I would without blinking” she admitted, staying as close to the truth as she could, without revealing too much. How could she face him and tell him what was about to happen to him in a few years? He wouldn’t even get to turn her age before Azkaban… and that hit her differently.                        “I know that there is something dark in the things you are not saying. And I know that I am neither the one who dies nor the one who lives from the way your eyes never met mine when I said it. Maybe the one who goes crazy but not exactly. That’s okay. It would happen either you were here or not. It’s better that you are. I don’t know if it is for you… I cannot imagine the weight of all those things. I am sorry” he told her sincerely. They shared so many things; intuition, depth, passion. And a five-year gap.            “So you see, celebrating didn’t feel appropriate” she concluded airily. But he looked at her in a perplexed expression.                  “On the contrary. We should. Now more than ever. Because after all, we only have this moment, isn’t that so?” he proposed and she was astonished because he was right. He didn’t want to talk about it more, knowing that something bad happened to all of them, and that she didn’t want to say what. He understood her – it was cruel, such disastrous things being delivered by her. She held answers to questions they hadn’t even thought about yet. He could never blame her for not coming forward. Even though he wanted to be her confidant, the one she would spill her heart out he knew that she wouldn’t. Some things were better left unsaid… but…not forever.                      “You should go back to your friends” she suggested, as she felt worn out, wanting nothing more than to get out of the dress and makeup.                                  “I thought we were friends” he chuckled darkly, earing a fixed glance from her piercing eyes.            “Oh Sirius. You and I…we could never be friends” she admitted and there was not a single shy cell in her body. Her entire mind had shut up and every word coming out of her mouth was a sharp slap across his face, hitting him with the truest statement she could have said. He licked his lips and tamed his tongue not to respond the only way he truly wanted to as he got up and buttoned up again, to rejoin the party.                      “Remus knows?” he asked but it came out as a bold statement. He was jealous he wasn’t the first one to know this, or how her lips felt against his. He shook the image out of his head and focused his eyes one her. She was radiant but she wasn’t fooling anyone – she might have worn a gold dress but she was the moon, dark, secret and almost untouchable. Almost.                    “He does” she confirmed, realizing just how jealous he could get. She didn’t like possessiveness, mainly because she was the one being possessive in her previous relationships, but with Sirius…she could, perhaps, turn a blind eye. He was unexpected in every way, to her. He was biting his lip, deep in thought. It was tragically doomed and yet he found beauty among the disaster. It was fragile and soft, so tender but raw, catastrophe pouring down at everything. It was problematic – making homes out of people. But he had never felt more at home than with people; his best mates, his school, her.  His house never felt like a home and yet he was surrounded by it. And now, a strange feeling washed over his heart. What was he doing, letting her go?                He waned to kiss her, without a warning, with permission, without even deciding to do so but simply because he couldn’t think of anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him and he wanted it back. But there was that small voice, so ever faint, that told him it was not the time nor the place to do so. He had to physically stop from heading towards her rather than the door. And he didn’t know why he stopped.             “Love, I…” he started but she gave him a sharp look.                        “Don’t” she whispered and he left with a heartbreaking look on his delicate features.       

           She found an excuse not to return to the party. She would find an excuse to return to Hogwarts as soon as possible, otherwise her entire being would implode and no one would even notice. She would just collapse under the pressure of knowledge and no one would even understand how hard her life had suddenly become. She was the girl who wanted to know everything, who went looking for knowledge every place she visited and she had become the girl who wished she didn’t know the future, who was oblivious and blissful, who stayed silent and didn’t challenge the world.                It was too early. Too late maybe. No one was partying, no one was in the living room, no one was making any sound. She tiptoed around a bit. The fireplace was livid, calming and consuming at the same time as if it was calling to her. Everything will end up in flames. Not ice, but hellfire. It was the saddest thing she could have thought of. Protecting a breakable heart. What if she got the chance to leave?              “Would I?” she whispered to herself. No. And that feeling of knowing that she wouldn’t be able to leave even if she did find a way, that she wouldn’t go back to her own family and her own life, that very feeling made her realize that this was indeed her home, that the people in this reality were her family and that this was her now. And she had to fight for her home and her family. She had to at least try.              “We missed you at the party” a soft voice caught her off guard. She took a deep breath. This was it. This hide and seek had to end. Once she turned around, he saw how serious she was and immediately understood that something was off. His eyes were tired but alert, his whole body language was signaling that he was able to grasp the severity of whatever she had to say to him.                        “There is something I need to tell you but you’ll need to sit down, James”.

__ Taglist: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @megalificent​ @fific7​ @maraudersangel​ @tb-ctn 

[blue-mood-blue]

Your Toby liveblogging was super fun to follow! Thank you for sharing your toughts, it was a little like getting to read it again for the first time. I am exited to se any Toby writing you will produce, I'm sure it's gonna be amazing! I'm not sure if this counts as a prompt, but I would love to see your take on Liudaleg offering Toby her chaengling choice and consequentally rasing her.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, I enjoyed it too! There's something really, really nice about sharing the experience and all of the discoveries with people who love these books as much as I do!

And that is an excellent prompt :3 I had fun with this one!

~~~

She could have stayed out of it. She could have called the Torquills, reminded them who that little girl's father was in the eyes of Faerie law and made clear that the sea witch of legend and nightmares would hold them accountable for their kin. She could have reminded them of where they came from and asked them frankly if they could stand by while precious, thoughtless, heartless Amy did that to her own child…

But she didn't. She didn't stop to think when she saw her opportunity; she acted with the kind of impulsivity that, in future years, she would become convinced had leaked into her niece like an inkstain reminder of the moment. The Luidaeg saw her chance, and she took it.

October Christine Daye disappeared from a park one evening at dusk, just when the light of sunset was fading and her father had turned away, distracted by a noise. Her last act as a part of the human world was to look up at the woman leaning against the swingset and answer her question. There were only the two of them, and the woman - young and friendly, smiling kindly in a way that put little October at ease immediately - promised her that there was no right answer, only the answer that felt right. With no sense of the gravity of the moment, she made her choice, and by the time her father looked up the park was empty. There was only an instant of alarm before he shook his head and wondered what he'd been looking for. A changeling story just the way the humans would tell it, but a mercy left behind instead of a child.

The Luidaeg wondered if mercy was a fair price for the future. She didn't have an answer, and the not knowing didn't change her mind.

~~~

Amy was furious. Of course she was, and the Luidaeg might even have decided not to hold it against her if more of that fury had its roots in the abduction of her daughter than the obliteration of her faerie bride life. She wouldn't have stood aside if Amandine snatched October away from the temporary bed set up on the couch, but she would have understood.

"You had no right," her little sister hissed, and the Luidaeg chuckled.

"No right? You've had your taste of freedom, sister, you've played your little game and left your responsibilities behind. Did you think that choice wouldn't have consequences? They all do."

The Luidaeg didn't miss the glance towards the couch, the reminder of the choice that had been made only that evening. "You had no right." Her voice was weaker, now, less venomous. Perhaps even sad.

"Tell me the truth, Amy, because I can't lie to you - do you still want her now?" There was a weary sort of ache building in the Luidaeg's chest, as familiar as it was inescapable. "Would you be happy to have her follow you around in Faerie, live in your tower... be your changeling daughter?"

Amy frowned, and she wouldn't meet her eyes. "She shouldn't be a part of this world."

"That's her decision to make. And that's not what I asked you."

"Am I supposed to just leave my daughter here?" She was back to fury, but there was something different about it, now - less power behind it, less biting. As if she was playacting the part of the enraged mother of a kidnapped daughter, and the Luidaeg would feel fury of her own if she wasn't so endlessly, deeply tired. "I'm meant to leave her with you, because you thought you could reach out and take what's mine?"

Would you care at all, except that I've taken your toy and you never learned to share, she wondered, but didn't ask. "I'm prepared to bargain with you," she said instead.

It pulled Amy up short. "What could you possibly have to offer me?" There was genuine curiosity mixed in with the skepticism of her question.

"Besides freedom from the task that is rightfully yours by your ability, that you refuse to accept?" There was no change in Amy's face - she was, as always, difficult to sway on things that didn't directly impact her. "Besides willingly housing and feeding the child you were willing to lose to mortality? How about not releasing that neat little piece of magic on your husband and sparing you the embarrassment and headache of a mortal making too much noise?"

Fury - true fury, the anger of a Firstborn - flashed in Amy's eyes. For just an instant, the Luidaeg wondered if Amy would actually try fighting her, the idea just possible enough to have her bracing herself to move in front of the couch if she needed to. But Amy didn't move. For a long moment, Amy didn't do anything at all, standing frozen in the middle of her sister's living room.

"Fine," she spit out finally, and left her daughter behind, peacefully asleep.

~~~

This was the world as October Daye knew it.

She lived with her aunt, in a small and well-hidden apartment. Everyone else called her aunt "Luidaeg" which was hard to pronounce, or "sea witch" which Toby told her, solemnly, wasn't much of a name.

"Oh?" Her aunt sounded amused, only glancing at Toby while her hands were occupied with something important on the kitchen counter. "And you're the expert, huh, October?"

Toby scowled. "It's Toby," she reminded her, and her aunt nodded.

"Yeah yeah, you've mentioned. So what're you planning to call me if my names aren't up to your standards?"

"Your real name. You must have one, everyone does."

Her aunt wasn't mean, but sometimes unexpected things made her upset. Toby started to think this was one of those times, her aunt strangely quiet, but before Toby could talk about something else she spoke up again. "Annie," she finally said. "You can call me Annie, I guess."

And then it was Annie and Toby, almost always just the two of them, and never with any visitors who stayed very long.

~~~

Annie sold her magic for favors. "Like a true sea witch," she'd said once in an explanation that didn't explain a thing, a wry smile on her face.

"What if they can't pay?" Toby didn't watch the transactions; she wasn't allowed, waved off to her room before the desperate of Faerie ever darkened the doorway. It was for her own safety to be out of the way when a bargaining tool is exactly what some lost souls would be looking for, there in their worst moments.

"Then they don't get what they came for. They can't shoplift a sea witch's magic - they could try, I guess, and give me a minute or two of entertainment - but it wouldn't help them."

Toby was still young, but not so young that she didn't know the world sometimes didn't work the way it was supposed to. If it did, she could visit her dad. If it did, she would see her mother sometimes, and Annie wouldn't seem so sad, and the problems people brought to her aunt that she heard sometimes when she listened at the door wouldn't exist.

The world wasn't perfect. But was it really too much to hope for, that they could make things a little better for each other?

"Just like that? You don't do anything at all to help them?"

There must have been something in her voice that caught her aunt's attention, because Annie looked at her with eyes so knowing and so sad that Toby shrunk back a little from the expression. "Spoken like a true hero," she muttered under her breath, before sitting down next to Toby at the kitchen table - all warm wood and welcoming to her, a place she knew and trusted where outsiders only saw rot and filth. "October, if I gave you everything you ever wanted, do you think that would make you happy?"

Everything she ever wanted seemed like a lot. Toby shrugged, and Annie smiled.

"I think it might, for a little while. But then you would think of new things to want. If I fixed your every problem for you, what would you do the next time you had a problem?"

"Ask you to fix it?"

Annie nodded. "And if you reached out to grab a lit candle, do you think I would let you? Just because you wanted the flame?"

Toby shook her head.

"I answer every request because I have to, but giving a person their wish can hurt as often as it helps. Sometimes, the world is just unfair because it is. Even if we fixed everything wrong, it would find new ways to hurt."

Toby could accept that; she could accept that no one ever got everything they wanted just because, that problems could not always be handed over, that some choices were wrong. To accept the unfairness of the world, though, seemed too much to ask.

"Shouldn't we still help, when we can?"

Annie was quiet for a very long time. Toby wondered if she was angry; when Toby looked up at her face, though, Annie just seemed terribly tired. "Maybe we should. And maybe you're better than me, because you think so - you're a kind soul, October Daye, and even if it gets you in trouble it's nothing to be ashamed of. But please, for my sake if not for anyone else's... don't let the world bleed you dry while you try to save it. You're worth too much for that."

~~~

Toby wasn't sure if Annie actually liked Devin or not.

She let him into the house, even after the first time Toby met him, when he smiled down wolfishly at her and promised he'd carry her off to his home eventually. She'd retaliated by hitting him with a pan. Annie laughed and laughed, telling him that was what he got for trying to mess with the niece of the Luidaeg, a tiny hero in her own right.

"Yeah, okay," he relented eventually; Toby was still too young to notice the dangerous glint in Annie's eyes as she rested a hand on Toby's shoulder, to see the way Devin shrank in on himself as if in the presence of something dangerous. "The princess doesn't go anywhere she doesn't want to. Got it."

Most of the time, they got along. Devin taught her to pick locks and make marshwater charms, told her stories about the way changelings lived out there in the wider world of Faerie, where fairness was even harder to find than it was in her aunt's home with its strange rules about favors. "No place for changelings on either side of the blood," he'd said, more than once during the years she knew him. "You'll see one of these days." Whether it was by design or just the way it was always meant to go, she ached and grew restless; a little seed of heroism, as yet mostly unnoticed.

Most of the time, Annie put up with him. She seemed to enjoy his biting commentary on the local gentry, and he never asked her for anything at all. He was very, very careful about that. It was those stories - steeped in gossip and judgement - that were Toby's first introduction to the knowes she'd never had reason to see, and the strange people who lived in them.

Annie answered all of her questions about those people, because Annie never told lies and never hid things from Toby. There were only "things Toby could know now" and "things Toby would know later, if she stopped pestering her aunt and showed a little patience." The secrets of Faerie were hers for the taking, if she could wait for them.

Devin always made the same offer when he left - a home, if the home she had now didn't seem to fit right anymore. Toby always turned him down, and Devin never seemed surprised.

~~~

Toby remembered her mother, her real one, the one who was so beautiful that for a while Toby almost thought she must have gotten it wrong. Almost - Annie had told her things about Faerie. They lived on the outskirts of any and all worlds, but Toby had learned enough to know that her mother's beauty wasn't something unrealistic, just overwhelming. She missed her. She missed her, and she stopped saying so because it always made Annie frown. She missed her, and she tried to stop missing her because it didn't take much effort to realize Amandine wasn't coming back.

Sometimes her Annie was very quiet and still, late in the evenings when Toby should probably have already gone to bed. She stared at something Toby could never see, one of those things that she would have to wait to hear about later - but if Toby had to guess, she would guess that Annie's eyes looked lonely and lost, that she was missing someone, too. So Toby would crawl into her lap, and even though her aunt wouldn't say anything, she would open her arms to give Toby room and then hold her tight for a very long time.

She only ever spoke once, when Toby was almost asleep and wasn't sure whether she remembered it or dreamed it in the morning: "I hope you never have to leave me."

~~~

“There’s no one else to teach you how to use your magic,” Annie told her. “We’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Figuring it out” might have been an overly-generous description for what their magic lessons were, mostly blind groping through the dark with the hope that Toby wouldn’t reach too far and no sense of where “too far” might be. Annie tried to guide her with her own magic, but it felt like trying to tie a delicate knot with tidal waves instead of hands - her power was too immense, too completely unsuited for the shape of what Toby’s magic could do, and even gentle attempts left Toby overwhelmed and confused.

But she needed to learn. She needed to know - Annie needed her talent, and Toby wanted desperately to be needed in a way that meant she would never be left again - and she wandered the dark with nothing more than intuition and her aunt’s voice to lead her.

Her own blood was the first blood she changed; not all the way, out of fear that she wouldn’t recognize herself anymore, but enough that she could stand firm with her magic. If Annie was surprised that Toby clung to her changeling heritage, she didn’t say. She didn’t seem to disapprove, either, though Toby couldn’t quite work up the nerve to ask her opinion directly.

Devin stopped in the doorway the first time he saw her with a slightly different face, hair just a few shades lighter. He asked her if she’d done this to herself, and when Toby nodded, he asked her if she would do this for anyone else.

Annie told her once that if she was good at something, she should never do it for free. Toby didn’t think she could live that way.

The changelings brought to the Luidaeg’s door were not given a price beyond silence and secrecy, and not every changeling was brought. But there were some - the desperate and the hopeless, the ones who missed their human families or who suffered under the unfairness of having blood that wasn’t quite good enough. The ones who suffered because Faerie had never considered their safety, and the ones who suffered because Faerie had never considered what blood shouldn’t be mixed. Those were Toby’s customers at the door - her practice runs, Annie muttered once under her breath, and Devin hadn’t disagreed - and they came to see her. They came for the whispers of the sea witch’s daughter, and the favor she might grant those who truly needed her help.

~~~

When she left the house - because she was not a princess locked away in a tower in need of rescue, just a little girl growing up and eventually in need of more space and more faces - people whispered. They called her “October” and “daughter of the sea witch” and “omen” but none of them asked what she would rather be called, and certainly none of them called her “Toby.”

It was silly to be afraid, she thought the first time she stood at the entrance of Shadowed Hills, instructed that she might as well meet her family. Silly and childish to fear anyone in that knowe, when they were her family and would almost definitely be afraid of her. The knight at the door froze at the sound of her name, but he didn’t turn her away. Duke Sylvester Torquill accepted her into his hall, his wife at his side and sitting very still while she walked closer to see him.

Like a fox, Toby thought as she approached. But he seemed to have kind eyes, even if their kindness didn’t seem meant for her. He was too nervous for his polite smile to reach them.

“Hello, Uncle Sylvester,” she said, and she smiled at him with all the warmth she could manage for a relative who had never showed up on Annie’s doorstep looking for her. “I’m October. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The duke tried to smile; the expression wasn’t very genuine. But his voice, when he finally found it, was friendly enough. “Hello, my dear. It has been a long time - come, tell me about your adventures.”

Toby didn’t think she really belonged anyplace besides her Annie’s home, but the world was big and filled with interesting people; in time, she brought her own stories of the local courts back with her, to a warm and comfortable place where she would always only be Toby.

~~~

Sometimes they visited the Selkies.

As a child, Toby reveled in the chance to play with the other children, splashing at ocean waters that could only be like home when she lived with the feared Luidaeg, unconcerned with the balance of her blood or what she could do with it.

When she grew older, as she understood, she stood apart and next to Annie. They were still warmly embraced, greeted happily. It was the closest Toby ever saw her aunt come to telling a lie.

Sometimes the world was not fair. Sometimes even the enormous magic of a sea witch was not enough to make it so.

~~~

The King of Cats called her “little omen” and seemed to delight in the way it made her bristle. She didn’t know why he enjoyed her company - maybe it was because she made the Divided Courts nervous, and it was entertaining to him to see them caught off-guard and scrambling. And it was entertaining; Toby didn’t push her luck with their hospitality, but it was funny to see the guards at the gate hesitate, their instinct to keep anyone associated with the sea witch away from their door. Only Etienne had the benefit of no longer fearing her. Long exposure had changed the fear to exasperation as he attempted to teach her the proper rules of entering a knowe and presenting herself before nobility.

Tybalt had witnessed some of those lessons. Perhaps that was part of the entertainment.

Toby didn’t ask him for his reasons; she knew cats and the Cait Sidhe well enough to know that he wouldn’t give them, and direct questioning would only shut him up faster with a coy, knowing smile. He kept showing up, and she kept tolerating his presence, and in time there was almost an uneasy kind of friendship between them. “We are outcasts of the Divided Courts,” he’d told her, walking her home from Shadowed Hills a little closer to dawn than Annie would have preferred. “They don’t care for either of us, not with those manufactured manners of theirs; they would sooner have us out here, away from them and by ourselves, so why not indulge them?”

“I’m related to some of them,” Toby replied, a small smile on her face in spite of herself. “I think I’m a part of their courts whether they like it or not.”

“An absolutely delightful tangle for them to deal with, true,” Tybalt chuckled. “And yet you’re still here with me.”

“Only because you won’t leave me alone,” she said, and he laughed.

~~~

Duke Sylvester Torquill had no authority over her, but he begged a favor from her anyway. Maybe he thought she knew the Luideag’s secrets, or maybe he just knew that she was good at rooting out secrets - the gentry politely referred to it as a healthy curiosity, while Annie just snorted and told her she was too damn nosy for her own good.

Whatever the case, she was still Dochas Sidhe. She was as easy to transform as she would always be. And when Toby didn’t come home, Shadowed Hills earned the wrath of the Luidaeg.

It took too long to find her, but she was found. Found changed, and transformed, and haunted. A tabby led a teenager in overalls with electrical tape in her hair to a pond, and when no one was looking, they left with a single calico koi. In the safety of her own home, Toby was herself again and wasn’t.

There were days of silence, days when no one could manage a word from her even though Annie and Devin and Tybalt all tried. There were days when Toby had to be convinced to stand, to eat, to rest. Finally, so softly that anyone but Annie might not have heard, Toby asked: “Why are you doing this?”

“Because trauma means you need the extra help.” She was mixing something, releasing smells that were both strange and familiar into the air, and Toby could pick out every piece that came from her magic.

“No, I mean… why any of this? Why did you take me?” Why did you keep me, she didn’t ask, and she thought she knew the answer - because she was useful. Because there was something that Toby could do for her, that would pay for the time spent raising her.

Annie was quiet, focused on the ingredients of future favors yet to be asked. “Because you’re my family,” she said at last. “Whatever my reasons used to be, that’s my reason now.”

[clockworkgraystairs]

KEEP IT DOWN || Jurdan - Hogwarts AU

Written super super late for Jurdan Week 2020 by @jurdannet​ Sorry for the delay!!

Crossover Day || Harry Potter  

Prompt submited by @mysweetvilllain​

Rating: M

Summary: Quidditch day was no normal day at Hogwarts. And Ravenclaw’s head boy, Cardan Greenbriar, knew it very well. 

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @b00kworm​ (if you wish to be tagged or untagged [or if my dumb brain forgot to tag u] just let me know!)

My masterlist

Hogwarts was always a battlefield on a quidditch day, and today was not the exception. Not in the final game of their Championship. So far, Cardan had broke up two discussions and dissolved a duel challenge between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

To be honest, he would have prefered to stay back in his dorms. His book about Asian Myths and History was way more interesting than keeping the students safe. Specially from themselves. But as Head Boy, there was little he could do against it. 

That evening Slytherin had won the match, and boy had it been a hot-blooded one. Brooms had flown through the rain at unimaginable speed. The seekers, entwined in a fierce battle for the golden snitch, almost crashing with each other on several occasions. If his memory was correct, at least three players had fell from their brooms either from crashing or bludgers. The crowd’s roar almost left him deaf when Slytherin’s seeker finally closed her fingers around the snitch. When she’d flown down and paraded it around, the noise became even worse. Her chestnut hair had come loose at some point of the match, and mixed with her smudged eyeliner she gave a feral image that send tickles down his spine.

Back in the castle, he could see silver and green flags everywhere. People ran and cheered. Only Gryffindors and some others walked back to their dorms in silence, or anger, he couldn’t say. Ten points from the Hufflepuff boy who tried to hide the bottle of alcohol in his robe. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and vanished the whiskey back to the kitchen’s shelves.

After another two hours of prowling around, he decided to call it for the day.

Cardan had almost made it to the stairs when a loud commotion snapped his attention back to the Great Hall. He peered inside, more than ready to continue with the points slaughter. That’s when he saw her again.

Jude Duarte. Slytherin’s captain and seeker. Crowned a legend after today’s victory. Her strategy abilities had made her team practically invincible. She sat on top of one of the tables, surrounded by the rest of the team and a few more students. Her damp her already starting to curl again. Apparently the party wasn’t over for everyone just yet.

Cackles died gradually as he approached them. All eyes turning to him. 

“Hello there, Ravenclaw. Are you lost?” He could practically feel her purr on his stomach, her gaze trailing down his body. A girl named Lilliver snickered from her seat.

“Oh, not at all.” He shrugged. “But you’re being quite loud, and I must ask you to keep it down.”

Jude slid down the table and stood in front of him, a cheeky smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “That’s a little rude, Head Boy, why don’t you join us and forget about noise rules for a while? We’re celebrating.”

“I can see that, and I appreciate the offer.” He conceded. “But as it is my duty, I insist, unless you’re looking to make your house lose some points. I suggest you go back to your dorms. Have a pleasant night.”

That said, he flashed her a polite smile, turned back to the Hall’s entrance and left, vaguely hearing several scoffs dancing along the group.

~

When Jude Duarte left the Slytherin dorm it was already past midnight. At last, the rest of the team had fallen asleep along the living room. She didn’t feel tired though, with the rush from the game still in her veins keeping her wide awake. 

Some nights, she enjoyed going out after curfew to take a stroll. There was something uncanny relaxing about it. No one rushing between classes, no one she needed to talk about quidditch or the usual nonsense people usually asked. Just silence. 

By the end of the corridor, she stopped in front of the now familiar room. Jude glanced around her once, making sure there weren’t any curious eyes and went in.

Jude suspected the chamber was an old meetings office that no one used anymore. Since the first time she’d found it, the same squared table rested in the middle, surrounded by three or four chairs. An old settee, and a mostly empty bookcase filled the rest of the small space. Nothing seemed different tonight. 

The dim moonlight coming from outside was the only thing that allow her to see around. 

She’d almost reached the settee, when something slither behind her. She spun around, reaching for her wand with all the agility she’d learned from duel trainings. 

Jude knew it was too late when she heard a husky voice whispering. “Incarcerous.”

She gasped as her arms folded behind her back. A scratchy rope securing them.  

In less than a second, she was pressed back against his hard body. One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other one buried on her hair and arching her neck, granting him access.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Cardan mumbled, spreading hot kisses down her throat. When he reached the base he sucked a little, sending hot streams down her veins. 

“Well you’ll find out that it’s quite difficult to get rid of a bunch of people who are high on adrenaline.” She pointed out, leaning her head back to his shoulder. “I might have slipped a few sleeping pills in their juice.” 

“You tricky witch.” He pressed harder against her backside. Letting her feel the effect she had on his body. Without being able to stop it, a breathy whimper left her lips. “Seems to me that I’ll have to take some of Slytherin’s points after all.”

“Don’t you dare.” She hissed, struggling inefficiently against the ropes. 

He just chuckled. His wicked hands now roamed under her Slytherin green hoodie, leaving goosebumps on her bare skin. “You might be captain on the field love, but you should realize you’re not the one in control here.”

In a swift movement, he turned her around and pulled the hoodie over Jude’s head, leaving it hanging from her tied arms. The fresh air made her shudder, she could feel her nipples hardening under her crop top. Before she could say anything else, Cardan crashed their lips together, his kiss fierce, tugging at her lower lip in a clear message. Mine. 

Jude didn’t realize he’d been moving them backwards until she bumped with the table. He helped her sat on top of it, settling between her thighs, grinding their bodies together.

She broke the kiss for a moment, breathing against his mouth. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I’m off this ropes.” 

“Am I?” With no so gentle hands, he pushed her back against the table, his mouth curled in a predatory grin. “But you’re not now, are you?” 

Without her arms to help her up, Jude just glared at him. She realized how ragged her heartbeat was. The way he looked at her send a pulse through her core. Her bound arms twisted again, looking for a way out, but the rope didn’t waver. She could do nothing but lay there, at his mercy while he peeled her pants from her. 

No answer from her was expected, Cardan’s low chuckle floated in the room. “I thought so.”

He leaned and barely grazed her lips, pulling back when she tried to capture them and slid down her body. Leaving trails with his lips on her jaw, the base of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He lingered a moment on her nipples, circling them over her top with his tongue. Jude’s breath came out in shuddering whimpers, her body writhed below him trying to get some friction. Cardan took his lips lower, along her well toned torso. Her hips twitched as he found a sensitive spot next to her dagger tattoo, and sucked on it. 

At some point her knickers came off too. She swore at the feeling of Cardan’s teeth nibbling her inner thighs. He made a disapproving sound with his tongue. “From this moment Jude, for every sound leaving your lips, I’m going to take a point from your house. Am I clear?” 

Jude stared at him wide eyed, angrily biting her lip to avoid spilling all the curses that danced in her mind. He knew how seriously Slytherins took winning. Everything. The House Cup one of the most desired prizes. Fuck he knew how to play her. 

Without breaking eye contact he leaned down again, positioning himself barely centimeters away from her center. Something between dark and amused tainted his features.

“Congratulations on winning your game baby.” At that he closed the distance to her aching folds, tasting them with a long, ravening lick.

The last coherent thought on her mind was how lucky they were that she’d cast a silencing charm on the room when she arrived.

The House Cup could very well rot in hell.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

I was really really excited to do this since it’s the first crossover i’ve ever written. 

I’m not planning any particular story with this, buuut I’m not against writing more of this AU if I ever see (or any of you send) prompts that could fit *wink*

I hope you like it!! 

As a little extra, and since I’m becoming obsessed with doing this things, here are a couple of aesthetics for Slytherin!Jude and Ravenclaw!Cardan, just because I think they’re cute.

ciao!

[hopetwink]

Fic Analysis: Yellow Somethings

Yellow Somethings by @kidcarma

I’ve been in a creative rut lately, so one of the things I’m doing in the meantime is analyzing my favorite fics written by friends and/or acquaintences. This work was one of the first that came to mind, so it’s the first one I wrote an in-depth character analysis for. 

Some people tell me I’m scarily good at psychoanalyzing both fictional characters and authors, so I’m harnessing that ability here in hopes it’ll give both you guys (and maybe also me) a greater appreciation for these well-written works. 

So yeah, enjoy!

When I first read this work, one thing that immediately stood out to me was the dialogue. Good dialogue can stand on its own. If we cut out everything except the first exchange of dialogue between Hinata and Komaeda, the strength of this dialogue becomes evident.

“I hate you.”

“I can live with that.”

As any skilled writer knows, well-written first lines are crucial to the allure of a story. The first line must not only be an enticing hook, but an informative and non-expositional string of words that give the reader a strong sense of the work as a whole. It instantly sets the tone for a piece, allowing us to get a sense of where the characters are now, and what direction they’re going in. 

The author’s choice to make the first line a piece of dialogue tells us they want to plunge us headfirst into the story. In fanfiction, which cannot exist without source material to draw from, it’s safe to assume one’s audience already knows a great deal about the canon lives and fates of the characters the story explores. It’s a nice shortcut that lets writers avoid having to excessively recap the events of the canon storyline, but the way this particular author makes use of this shortcut is significant. The intensity of the language they chose to use serves another purpose--to give the reader exactly what they promised the fic would contain in the summary, notes, and tags, and knock anyone who isn’t ready to read it off balance. 

In less than a hundred words, Komaeda confronts Hinata with intensely negative feelings that most people wouldn’t hesitate to take at face value, and Hinata makes it clear that regardless of if Komaeda truly hates him, he has no intention of abandoning him. 

‘Hate’ is a funny emotion; you can’t hate someone and be indifferent to them at the same time. To hate someone is to care about them, though even the mere suggestion that we care for the people we hate on some level is uncomfortable and counterintuitive. So yes, Komaeda’s telling the truth, he does hate Hinata. I don’t think he holds Hinata’s past against him; that would not only be unfair, but go against Komaeda’s efforts to promote and embody hope. Lingering on a past full of despair instead of looking towards the future does nothing to further the great cosmic goals of hope. 

Komaeda wouldn’t hate Hinata over something so broad and vague; no, the reason Komaeda hates Hinata is simple: Hinata’s the only one who isn’t fazed by Komaeda’s delusions, and he refuses to give Komaeda the dignity of rotting away in peace. 

In taking care of Komaeda, Hinata forces him to confront every last ounce of shame in his body, because somebody decided he was worth keeping alive, worth helping to heal and protect, when that goes against what he thinks with every fiber of his being. He has to sit helplessly and watch as Hinata emotionally strips him down and sees what he believes to be the ugliest parts of himself, the ones that he genuinely would rather die before willingly showing them to someone else, and being subjected to such humiliation at the hands of someone with good intentions is too much for him to bear. 

The only remotely empowering emotion he can cling to at the moment is bitterness, which enables him to find little ways to resist Hinata’s attempts to nurse him back to health at every turn. 

We see him try to reclaim some leverage in their power dynamic when he attempts to psychoanalyze Hinata and determine the reason he hasn’t given up on Komaeda yet through quips like “you do this because you feel bad” and “is it because the image of my dead body lives on in your mind.” Komaeda cannot allow Hinata to see him be vulnerable, because if he does, all the effort he put into building an impenetrable wall around his heart over the past fifteen or so years will have been for nothing. 

This feature of the fic is only made more poignant by the fact that it’s written from Hinata’s perspective--we don’t see what Komaeda is thinking or feeling, only his words and actions. But we see Hinata’s, which brings me to another underlying message: sometimes love isn’t gentle. Sometimes love isn’t soft and sweet, or pretty. Hinata loves Komaeda, even if he himself doesn’t realize or understand it. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t bother. He would’ve simply walked out of Komaeda’s hospital room the first time he refused to take his medicine. And he didn’t do that. He would never do that, not to Komaeda.

Hinata’s love for Komaeda is reflected in the yellow flowers he leaves next to his hospital bed, and that is why we catch a glimpse of his frustration when Komaeda breaks it. But in a way, this is a good thing--as Hinata begins to open up about his emotions, the pair move further away from their cycle of codependency and towards something closer to a symbiotic relationship. Perhaps someday, instead of needing to need each other, they will be able to love each other with no strings attached. 

This is what makes Komaeda’s decision to replace the flowers in Hinata’s vase much more significant than it appears on the surface--not only is it a gesture of goodwill and apology, but a sign that Komaeda is finally taking initiative in their relationship. No longer will Hinata have to carry both of their burdens; Komaeda is willing and able to reciprocate the love and effort Hinata has selflessly given him. 

The fic ends on Hinata doing some much needed introspection, and eventually coming to the conclusion that he isn’t happy with the way his life has turned out. Because, despite everything he’s been through, all the knowledge, talent, and skill he’s gained, and the external validation he’s received from his friends, it’s not enough. What Hinata wants is a purpose beyond caring for Komaeda. One day Komaeda will be fully recovered and then Hinata will have no other meaningful task to do, and nothing to distract himself from his inner turmoil. 

What Hinata needs is to see himself as inherently valuable, and he’s incapable of doing that until he learns to forgive himself. Right now, he’s not ready to accept his or Komaeda’s forgiveness yet, but deep down he knows that’s the only way to pull himself out of the pit of self-loathing he’s buried in.

Perhaps I’m reading too deeply into this clean, clear-cut fic, but I highly doubt the author went into this scenario with little to no knowledge of both Hinata and Komaeda’s mental predicaments. The underlying whispers of each character’s desire to love and be loved, to feel something--anything--when they’re too numb to care, is not a dynamic that an unskilled writer would be able to execute so gracefully. 

At the very least, Carmen has quite the natural aptitude for extracting the real life emotions they and others around them experience, and at the most, they have done extensive research involving both outside sources and (multiple) character studies. Regardless of whether either or both are true, I’m extremely impressed at how well they’ve managed to nurture the seeds of creativity in their mind, and I look forward to more opportunities to explore their works with in-depth analyses.

[edenmemes]

apex legends sentence starters

❝ have you prepared for your end? i have. ❞ ❝ be careful. i don’t carry all these weapons for nothing. ❞ ❝ fear is my currency. ❞ ❝ this didn’t have to be your end. you chose this fate. ❞ ❝ let's not finish quickly. where's the fun in that? ❞ ❝ so i like to have a little fun. so what? ❞ ❝ we'll get along beautifully, just don't touch my things. ❞ ❝ you might be of use to me yet. ❞ ❝ your will to fight is admirable...but in this cae, pointless. ❞ ❝ you fight without honor. stragetic. ❞ ❝ you shuld have scurried away when you had the chance. ❞ ❝ either you're with me or you're against me, or you're with me and against me, cause  that happens sometimes. ❞ ❝ a faint heart never won a lady like me. ❞ ❝ what’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine. ❞ ❝ there’s a void in your heart. ❞ ❝ you're not the first blemish i’ve cut away. you won’t be the last. ❞ ❝ i’m always dressed to kill. ❞ ❝ would you like a kiss to make it better? ❞ ❝ a gun is like a beautiful woman. hold her tight, or someone else will. ❞ ❝ don’t go thinking i owe you anything. ❞ ❝ business is my pleasure. ❞ ❝ i had dreamt of quiet like that, but now that i had it, i was terrified. and alone. ❞ ❝ trust the gust of the wind. ❞ ❝ you got blood on my shoes! ❞ ❝ the quickest way to a man’s heart is through the chest. ❞ ❝ looking for me? here i am. ❞ ❝ the secret to life ain’t happiness. it’s knowing the unhappy times won’t last forever. ❞ ❝ i used to fear many things, but that man is gone. ❞ ❝ we had fun, right? i had fun. ❞ ❝ i love you. and i can’t wait to start our life together. ❞ ❝ i didn’t do it for you. ❞ ❝ you may be stronger, but i’m smarter. ❞ ❝ get up before i kill you myself. ❞ ❝ what if your parents could see this now? ❞ ❝ this is the only life i know. ❞ ❝ the one you should have concerns with is me. ❞ ❝ you are a good killer, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ you are no coward. remember that. ❞ ❝ don’t be embarassed. it happens to everyone...sometimes. ❞ ❝ there is more honor in death than in life without test. ❞ ❝ when you have nothing else to lose, it’s easy to win. ❞ ❝ knowledge is power...and pain. ❞ ❝ get your claws off of me. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of you, you hear me? ❞ ❝ goodnight, beautiful. ❞ ❝ it’s not just about having it. it’s about taking it. ❞ ❝ maybe we’ll be friends next time. ❞ ❝ i had to claw my way to the top. do you think i’m going to let you stop me? ❞ ❝ in another life, this may have been different. ❞ ❝ this didn’t have to happen. ❞ ❝ you got this. just look in front of you, behind you, above you, all at once. you'll be fine. ❞ ❝ i swore i'd never waste my life on a vendetta again. don't test that vow. ❞ ❝ you’re either ready or you’re an idiot. ❞ ❝ don’t worry, i still love you. ❞ ❝ take your pride, and cherish it. ❞ ❝ i love when the spotlight’s on me. ❞ ❝ the most beautiful creatures have the deadliest venom. ❞ ❝ i make it look easy, don’t i? ❞ ❝ maybe i’ll let you live to tell the tale...maybe not. ❞ ❝ alright so my place is a little sloppy, so what? doesn't mean i'm a mess in the field. ❞ ❝ smell that? that’s the sweet aroma of fear. ❞ ❝ i want your heart. ❞ ❝ is everything you do half-assed? ❞ ❝ it’s hell. every second of my existence is hell. ❞ ❝ you’ve been marked for death. ❞ ❝ step quieter next time. ❞ ❝ wanna take me out? i’ll buy the drinks. ❞ ❝ i’ve been through hell to get here. ❞ ❝ look into my eyes. i want to remember this. ❞ ❝ what made you think you were special? ❞ ❝ beg for your life. it’s good for both of us. ❞ ❝ next time you’ll do better. ❞ ❝ teammates are good. they do nicely as shields. ❞ ❝ go on, it’s okay to be afraid. ❞ ❝ champion, challenger...means little if you die. ❞ ❝ brought to your knees by a beautiful woman? don’t be surprised. ❞ ❝ you should have stayed home today. ❞ ❝ your skill isn’t half bad. ❞ ❝ i strike swift and deadly like my dad. he called it "business", i call it a party. ❞ ❝ a lady never kills and tells. ❞ ❝ most beautiful things are fragile. not me. ❞ ❝ you and i are not equals. ❞ ❝ and here’s what’s left of your legacy. ❞ ❝ they made me a killing machine. who am i to argue with programming? ❞ ❝ don’t worry, i’m just perfect. ❞ ❝ pick out something nice for me, won’t you? ❞ ❝ so tell me, one liar to another, what brings you here? ❞ ❝ i’m a man eater and a lady killer. i enjoy the variety. ❞ ❝ i knew this would happen, just didn’t know when. ❞ ❝ i know more than you will ever know. ❞ ❝ you think i’m going to help you? it’ll be a cold day in hell before i ever help someone like you. ❞ ❝ what...you think just ‘cause i’ve only known you for a day, that i don’t know you? ❞ ❝ if you think you’re dying, it can kill you. ❞ ❝ you can’t be overdressed or overarmed. ❞ ❝ follow me and i’ll gut you like a fish. ❞ ❝ half of you is always in shadow, no matter how well lit the room is. ❞ ❝ i’m the diamond, you’re the rough. ❞ ❝ you can rest now...i never will. ❞ ❝ men. if they had half a brain, they’d be considered gifted. ❞ ❝ quit your whinging and fight. ❞ ❝ i know if we fought together, things would be different. ❞ ❝ pain...death...nothing phases me. ❞ ❝ they say you’re most alive when you’re in love. ❞ ❝ your final hour can’t be escaped. embrace it. ❞ ❝ i may not look like a fighter, but strength isn’t everything. ❞ ❝ you ain’t that bright if you want to take me on. ❞ ❝ come on, you can’t forget this face. ❞ ❝ we are our future, not our past. ❞ ❝ my light shines bright. ❞ ❝ no one is truly innocent, so we all deserve help. ❞ ❝ i just got you back in my life. i can’t lose you again. ❞ ❝ i once shot someone for just not giving me a message. but that shouldn't scare you...much. ❞ ❝ don’t blame yourself, i deserve the credit. ❞ ❝ never forget that no matter how big you are, the world is always bigger. ❞ ❝ don’t confuse my kindness with weakness. ❞ ❝ i can already smell the blood. ❞ ❝ no, it’s ‘vintage’. there’s a difference. ‘old’ is bad. ‘vintage’ is good. ❞ ❝ like a deer in the headlights...and i’m the headlights. ❞ ❝ you’re looking at a fighter. what am i looking at? ❞ ❝ you need to love what you do, care about what you do, and believe in your ability to do what you do. ❞ ❝ i don’t fear anything. can you say the same? ❞ ❝ we all have our reasons. don’t take this personally. ❞ ❝ let’s just say a little birdie told me all about you. ❞ ❝ that little voice saying there’s still hope? it’s lying. ❞ ❝ shhh...it’s just a bad dream. ❞ ❝ do you have any more questions that might illuminate your ignorance? ❞ ❝ i’m tired of you saving my life. ❞ ❝ does this mean we’re friends now? ❞ ❝ somebody has to lose. that’s just how this works. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry it had to be this way. ❞ ❝ you can only trust those who you know are liars. ❞ ❝ it’s an honor to fight alongside someone with the passion of fire that burns a thousand suns. ❞ ❝ i can see it in your eyes that you have the courage to climb to your rightful place over those who wronged you. ❞ ❝ i know what you’re looking for. come see me. ❞ ❝ may the gods bless you. ❞ ❝ what a sad little creature you are. ❞ ❝ you call yourself a legend? how unwarranted. ❞ ❝ i know what i like, and i know how to get it. ❞ ❝ you’ve got to watch your back. you can’t trust others to do it for you. ❞ ❝ you found me. good eyes. ❞ ❝ someone had to show you your place. ❞ ❝ greed will eat your mortal sorrow. ❞ ❝ you burned bright, but you burned out. ❞ ❝ you did your best...unfortunately. ❞ ❝ want advice? shoot first. ❞ ❝ think carefully about what brought you to this moment. very carefully. ❞ ❝ that may have felt like overkill. it was. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen it all. today’s no different. ❞ ❝ without pain the body suffers in silence. ❞ ❝ bleed, patch, and keep moving. ❞ ❝ i’m not hard to understand. death is my language. ❞ ❝ the biggest trap is your own mind. ❞ ❝ don’t look for sympathy. you won’t find it. ❞ ❝ you can beg for mercy. it won’t help, but go on. ❞ ❝ you’re already falling for me. ❞ ❝ they’ve already forgotten you. ❞ ❝ i’m a lone wolf with a bite. ❞ ❝ don’t beat yourself up. leave that to me. ❞ ❝ another day, another road. ❞ ❝ look for me, and what you wil see you will never forget. ❞ ❝ watch out: i’ll eat you alive. ❞ ❝ labels are a curse, and a target. ❞ ❝ this direction calls to me. let us go. ❞ ❝ you did not fail. you played your part to its end. ❞ ❝ do i have something on my face? you look at me strangely. ❞ ❝ i’ve been described as deadly and beautiful, but i am also approachable. ❞ ❝ humanity is just a word. ❞ ❝ i don’t settle. i’m not made that way. ❞ ❝ the sheer terror that comes with dying...i remember it well. ❞ ❝ now this...this is worth living for. ❞ ❝ once a fight gets too noisy, i bring the silence. ❞ ❝ i don’t consider death cruel, but life is. ❞ ❝ what’s your name? i have to know. ❞ ❝ you should smile more. ❞ ❝ even when you are helping, you are appalling. ❞ ❝ life won’t flash before your eyes. it just...ends. ❞ ❝ the rabbit’s cries brings the wolves. ❞ ❝ so then again i ask, why the frown? ❞ ❝ i hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ i like my women like i like my sake: cool and filtered and on someone else’s tab. ❞ ❝ only fight the battles you know you can win. ❞ ❝ i wanted you to know: you’re still here. at my side. in my heart. in my ear. on the tip of my tongue. and you always will be. ❞ ❝ my former collegues would have eaten you alive. ❞ ❝ i will crush everything that stands in my way. everything. ❞ ❝ i am the master of my fate. ❞ ❝ you fight without honor. stragetic. but you also fight without skill. ❞ ❝ rats can be taught. you are something lesser. ❞ ❝ cast off your fear. now is the time for fascination. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a face like a wet weekend, mate. ❞ ❝ i never forget. i wait for your inevitable misstep. ❞ ❝ i’ll regret that decision until the day i die. ❞ ❝ sometimes you get tired of running, i understand, but you can’t ever stop. ❞ ❝ no one is coming to save you. no one ever was. ❞ ❝ i see my reputation precedes me. ❞ ❝ you’re a fragile little fly, just like the others. i’ll pull your wings off eventually. ❞ ❝ i wish there was more time to spend with you. ❞ ❝ i kept you in the dark about a lot of things...it sounds bad, but it was safer if you didn’t know. ❞ ❝ i pray you found peace. that, above all else, is what matters the most. ❞ ❝ i find no pleasure in taking a life that doesn’t appreciate it. ❞ ❝ ever get the feeling you’re not alone? you’re not. ❞  ❝ there’s still time to run. ❞ ❝ are you still watching? good. this next part is just for you.  ❞ ❝ you kill, i create. this is why i win. ❞ ❝ i fight for the accused, the cursed...the exceptional. ❞ ❝ do not believe any rumors about me that i have not started. ❞ ❝ i don’t figure myself as the best. just as everyone else being the worst. ❞ ❝ you mind if i don’t feel bad for you? right, thanks mate. ❞ ❝ time to go home to your loved ones. ❞ ❝ stand out, or stand aside. ❞ ❝ if you don’t like what you see, put a bag over your head. ❞ ❝ legend...huh. sometimes we all pretend to be something we’re not. ❞ ❝ i’ve been watching you. ❞ ❝ i will not be cast aside. ❞ ❝ i know what i came for. i’ll get it one way or another. ❞ ❝ you can only hide from the inevitable from so long. ❞ ❝ until we meet again. ❞ ❝ if i flirt with you, will that make you move faster? ❞ ❝ no. you don’t get to die before i do. ❞ ❝ you alright, mate? looking a bit messy. ❞ ❝ why can’t i just die already? ❞ ❝ do not look away. courage first, my friend. ❞ ❝ it appears intelligence is just a word to you. ❞ ❝ i’ve never heard of you. ❞ ❝ sometimes you lose, sometimes you’re me. ❞ ❝ quitting is for losers. ❞ ❝ i do not fight to be accepted. i fight to be free of your acceptance. ❞ ❝ know your place. ❞ ❝ cherish the lesson you’re about to learn. ❞ ❝ i do not wait for inspiration; i take it. ❞ ❝ can’t let your guard down because if you do, someone better will take advantage of it. ❞ ❝ i’m also a good liar. ❞ ❝ you will achieve greatness. just not in victory. ❞ ❝ do not hide your true colours. they are your strength. ❞ ❝ a lady never kills and tells. ❞ ❝ you saved me. careful, people will talk. ❞ ❝ i’m not one for bragging but... ❞ ❝ sure, you have reasons. don't we all. ❞ ❝ fancy seeing you here. figured you’d be dead by now. ❞ ❝ that looked like it hurt. ❞ ❝ don’t take this personally but i just don’t like your style. or your face. or just literally anything about you. ❞ ❝ science is precise...as am i. ❞ ❝ didn’t your parents teach you manners? ❞ ❝ i have no regrets. it’s not in my dna. ❞ ❝ this isn’t personal. you’re just in my way. ❞ ❝ don’t blame yourself. you have a whole family that failed you. ❞ ❝ want advice? stay out of my way. ❞ ❝ my methods are only controversial to those who lack imagination. ❞ ❝ you can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape yourself. ❞ ❝ have you said your goodbyes? ❞ ❝ i’d thank everyone who helped me get here, but they’re all dead. ❞ ❝ no flirting. ❞ ❝ too bad your parents aren’t here to see this. ❞ ❝ careful, i’ll steal more than just your heart. ❞ ❝ where’s your sense of style? ❞ ❝ can’t any of you stop me? unlikely. ❞ ❝ a mind is like a blade...mine is hone. yours is dull. ❞ ❝ many have made the mistake of crossing me. many more will make it today. ❞ ❝ well, i suppose i would’ve understimated me too. ❞ ❝ ah, well that was a little careless of you, love. ❞ ❝ this isn’t between you and me. this is between you and a promise i mean to keep. ❞ ❝ this is your problem. you give up too easily! ❞ ❝ the truth. tell me the truth. ❞ ❝ you had an opportunity to impress me...what a waste. ❞ ❝ what you attempt to do to me comes back to you...tenfold. ❞ ❝ the best revenge is cold as steel. ❞ ❝ i have crushed far more impressive fighters than you. ❞ ❝ let nothing distract you from the fight. ❞ ❝ the competition is lacking. i’ve had no choice but to step in personally. ❞ ❝ the war might be over...but the fight isn’t. never is. ❞ ❝ don’t go making that face at me. you know full well you signed up for this. ❞ ❝ ooh, could get messy, i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ a powerful woman knows what she wants. ❞ ❝ you and me are in this together. remember that. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to make it quick. that’ll spoil the fun. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. and then i’ll break everything else. ❞ ❝ aww, you think you’re tough? ❞ ❝ beauty is pain. ❞ ❝ oh no, did that hurt darling? ❞ ❝ i fought nightmares all my life. you don’t scare me. ❞ ❝ your achievements are as meaningless as you are. ❞ ❝ come on, let’s see if we’re a match. ❞ ❝ you know, deep down, the real curse? is loving you. ❞ ❝ you’re supposed to be a killer. so prove it. ❞ ❝ there's a reason you put up all those walls... ❞ ❝ you've received the gift of life, and what do you do with it? make it all about you. ❞ ❝ how else did you expect it to end? alone. unwanted. and deservedly unloved. ❞ ❝ no one gives a crap who’s better, all i care about is who’s the best. ❞ ❝ you think you’ll make out of this alive? ❞ ❝ you’ve spent your whole life hiding behind someone else’s shadow. ❞ ❝ you devoted life to a fairy tale, shunning every soul who bothered to care about you.   ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, but you’re in my way. ❞ ❝ face death with dignity...or don’t. ❞ ❝ no more running. not from the fortune you waste, the friends you manipulate, or the parents who can't stand you. misery can't be outrun. ❞ ❝ least you’re not becoming your mom, right? ❞ ❝ you chose this emptiness. sink in it. ❞ ❝ no thanks needed. buy me a drink, though. ❞ ❝ you are not indestructible as you think. come on. ❞ ❝ you're not used to feeling this way. powerless. ineffective. impotent. well, there's a first time for everything. ❞ ❝ talk about them again. i dare you. ❞ ❝ i have centuries of self-loathing to work through. ❞ ❝ it’s not worth it. shut it down. give up. ❞ ❝ i’m just pulling your leg, it’s totally for the babes. ❞ ❝ if i can be honest, i just like the killing. ❞ ❝ make a corpse, and you’ll get some flies. ❞ ❝ oh, you...i love our banter. ❞ ❝ it isn’t easy. i just make it look that way. ❞ ❝ you’re worse than i remembered - somehow. ❞ ❝ unfortunately, some jobs don’t go according to plan. ❞ ❝ i was...careless. too attached. ❞ ❝ my focus is on a greater goal. i cannot be distracted. ❞ ❝ i ain’t staying down. never do. ❞ ❝ too bad your mama and papa aren't here. i would've enjoyed seeing their disgust at the monster their little girl has become. ❞ ❝ i've been knocked down, taken out, hit from both sides hundreds of times. ❞ ❝ i'm growing as a person, but i’m still me. ❞ ❝ i can’t say i’m pleased with how deep you dug into my past. ❞ ❝ the hell with that and the hell with you. ❞ ❝ you think you’re the victim? what about me? what about what i lost? ❞ ❝ i always pay my respects to your family. does that make me soft? ❞ ❝ i was bored until you came along. ❞ ❝ do not cross me, or my blade will cross you. ❞ ❝ when you’re after a big prize, you don’t just walk in and take it. first, you have to do the legwork. ❞ ❝ let’s take a seat, this might take awhile. ❞ ❝ if i ever let you down, it’s probably because i grew tired of carrying you. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to be here anymore than you do. ❞ ❝ then comes my favourite part...the screaming. ❞ ❝ i plan on getting under your skin. ❞ ❝ they say i use humor as a defense mechanism. ❞ ❝ any last words? i must know. ❞ ❝ don’t bother trying to find me. i’ll find you. ❞ ❝ last people i killed looked hopeful too. ❞  ❝ i don’t do this for fame or glory. i do this for fun. ❞ ❝ being human is overrated. ❞