#no way smth that isn’t rain world

[tangeringe]

Indra Mariza, The Lady of the Sea

(Mariza belongs to @shandzii, @melodyofthevoid, and @the-trashiest-pada [i think])

[amirasainz]

Can you do driver reader, that is one of the driver that crashes during the Brazil race and causes a red flag. Can she be hurt (broken arm or smth)

I love your blog so much🤌🔥

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Rain

The sound of rain drummed steadily against the asphalt, creating a chaotic symphony that echoed throughout the Interlagos circuit. It was the Brazilian Grand Prix, and the atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and anxiety. Yn, the first female driver for RedBull, sat in her car on the grid, heart racing, fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel. She glanced at the wet track ahead and could feel the tension in the air, punctuated by the distant rumble of thunder.

“Okay, Yn, focus,” her race engineer JD's voice crackled through the radio, breaking her concentration. “It’s going to be tricky out there. We’ve already seen a couple of red flags, and the conditions are only getting worse. Just take it slow, especially in the first few laps.”

“Got it, JD. I’m just going to keep my head down and stay out of trouble,” she replied, trying to mask the nerves creeping into her voice.

“Remember, we’re in it for the long game. You’re in second, just behind Max. Let’s see how it plays out, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be careful. Thanks!” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The lights went out, and she surged forward, gripping the wheel tightly as she navigated the treacherous turns.

The rain poured relentlessly, causing visibility to plummet. The roar of engines mixed with the sound of rain, creating an overwhelming cacophony. As they completed the first lap, Yn found herself trailing closely behind Max. The two Red Bull cars danced across the slick track, carving their paths through the rain.

“Good job, Yn. Keep up with Max,” JD encouraged as she skillfully maneuvered her way through the corners.

But the rain was unforgiving. A few laps later, a sudden jolt of loss of traction sent her heart into her throat.

“JD! I’m slipping!” she shouted, trying to regain control of the car.

“Stay calm, Yn! Just counter-steer!” JD’s voice was urgent, but Yn could feel the tires struggling for grip on the waterlogged track. Suddenly, the car spun wildly, and before she knew it, her heart sank as the barriers rushed toward her.

BANG!

The impact reverberated throughout her body, and her vision blurred. The world outside turned chaotic; sirens blared, and officials waved red flags frantically.

************************************************

In the hospital, Yn was conscious but barely coherent. Her body ached, and she felt detached from reality as the medical staff worked quickly around her. She heard snippets of conversation, the beeping of machines, and the distant sounds of the race still going on outside.

Meanwhile, the other drivers were huddled in the waiting room, anxiety etched on their faces. Lando paced back and forth, glancing toward the door every few seconds.

“Why isn’t there any news yet?” he asked, running a hand through his damp hair.

“They’re probably just being thorough,” George said, trying to keep his tone light, though his worry was evident. “She’s tough. She’ll pull through.”

“Yeah, but she’s only eighteen,” Carlos added, looking serious. “It shouldn’t have happened. She was doing so well.”

“Max is taking it hard,” Charles mentioned, nodding toward the corner where Max sat silently, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Just then, the door swung open, and a doctor stepped out. “You’re here for Yn Ln, right? She’s stable, but she’s in pretty bad shape. Five broken ribs and a concussion. She’s asleep right now but is being monitored closely. We’ll let you in shortly.”

The relief was palpable, but worry still clouded the room. They exchanged glances, each trying to mask their fear for their young friend and competitor.

***************************************************

After what felt like an eternity, they were finally allowed to see her. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as they entered the dimly lit room. Yn lay in the hospital bed, her face pale but peaceful, a tangle of wires and machines surrounding her. Flowers adorned the table next to her, a bouquet of vibrant blooms brightening the otherwise stark room.

“Look at her,” Lando whispered, stepping forward. “She looks so small.”

“She’s a fighter,” Max said quietly, his eyes glistening. He stepped closer to the bed, placing a hand on the railing. “I should have told her to back off. I should have been more careful.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Max,” Carlos said gently, joining him. “The conditions were terrible.”

George stepped up, looking around. “We should leave her something. Something to remind her we’re all here for her.”

They began placing little tokens around her bedside: a signed card from Lando, a miniature trophy from George, a chilli plushie from Carlos.

“Hey, Yn,” Charles said softly, leaning down so his face was closer to hers. “We’re all here. Just take your time to heal, okay?” Charles moved a bit to the left, placing the flowers with the rest of the things.

Then, Ollie, Yn’s bets friend and partner in crime, stepped forward, his expression softening. He took her hand gently, brushing back a stray hair from her forehead. “You’re going to be alright. Just rest, and we’ll be right here when you wake up.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment as emotion washed over him.

A moment of silence fell over them as they stood vigil by her bedside. The beeping of the machines was a constant reminder of her fragility, but they knew she was strong.

“Can you believe she’s just eighteen and already racing with us?” Lando finally broke the silence, trying to lighten the mood. “I can’t even imagine what I was doing at that age.”

“Probably playing video games,” Ollie teased lightly, earning a chuckle from the others despite the somber atmosphere.

“She’s got so much talent,” Carlos said, glancing back at Yn. “And she’s got all of us rooting for her. That’s what matters.”

Max nodded, his gaze still locked on Yn. “She’s going to bounce back. I believe that.”

The hours passed slowly, filled with whispered conversations and laughter tinged with worry as they reminisced about the race and their shared moments on the track. They each took turns sharing stories, hoping to fill the room with positivity, so Yn could feel the love surrounding her.

Finally, as the night wore on, exhaustion crept in. One by one, they began to drift off, still seated in their chairs, leaving her surrounded by the warmth of friendship, waiting for her to wake up.

****************************************************

As the first light of dawn broke through the clouds, illuminating the hospital room with a gentle glow, Yn stirred slightly in her sleep. The sound of soft murmurs and familiar laughter filtered through her consciousness.

“Look! I think she’s waking up!” George exclaimed softly, shaking Lando awake.

Max leaned forward, his eyes brightening. “Yn, can you hear us?”

With a small groan, Yn blinked open her eyes, squinting at the faces around her. “Ollie?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes! I'm here,buba! We’re here! You’re safe,” Ollie said, his eyes widening with relief, taking her hand in his, softly stroking her hair from her face.

“Hey, don’t try to move too much, petite,” Charles advised, noticing her attempt to sit up. “You’ve had a rough night.”

“What happened?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“You crashed,” Lando said, trying to keep his tone light. “But you’re tough. You’ve got some broken ribs and a concussion, but you’ll be back on track before you know it.”

Yn closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process everything. “I remember slipping… and then nothing.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now,” Carlos reassured her. “We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up. You scared us, hermana.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the reality of her situation washed over her. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to keep up.”

Max stepped forward, his expression softening. “You did great, Yn. You’re going to come back from this even stronger.”

“Yeah, and we’ll all be right behind you,” George added, his voice filled with sincerity.

The warmth of their presence surrounded her, giving her the strength she needed. “Thank you, guys. I—I really appreciate it.”

“Rest now,” Ollie said, squeezing her hand gently. “We’ll be here when you wake up again.”

And as Yn drifted back into a peaceful sleep, she felt the undeniable bond of her paddock family.

[yandere-yearnings]

Weird thought rant ‼️

I always see in smuts that the MC gets a belly bulge and all that but okay, hear me out, how about MALE belly bulge? I have no idea if that’s possible due to male anatomy but I just thought that would be something

Join the cause and support Male belly bulge 😸

dw nonnie, i'm alr w/ you😌✨ (+ for reference it is possible!!)

anyway, this, for vio bc i feel like it'd be more prominent on him than my other ocs. also as a little smth for all the vio fuckers who continue to dominate the inbox🥰

NSFW under the cut!

“Shit.” Gasping breaths. Intakes hitched harder and harder. “Fuck, please. Please, I’m sorr-”

Vio's words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when your fingers quickly found their place within the wetness oozing from the space between spongey tongue and roof. Teary greens straining to meet your gaze, pleading mercy like what you were doing to him was torture, even though Vio was the one who slammed his ass back to meet your hips each time, without fail. 

“Aren’t you a fucking mess?” The amusement in your voice was palpable, and you knew it got him off, what with the way he keened, forehead pressing to the sheets and hands fisting the fabric as though it could save his life. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard an apology from these pretty lips,” your point was driven home when he gagged, and your spit-slicked digits slipped out just for you to smear it to a shine on them, “best not start now, hm? It might make me wanna take pity on you and then-”

He cried your name, and you watched the muscles in his back ripple as he convulsed. Sweat glistening, mesmerising in the way rain droplets were when they ran races against glass windows, dripping into the divots of sacral dimples you were aching to dig your thumbs into.

“And then who’s gonna fuck you like this, huh?” Your cleaner hand reached out, wrapped around his throat tight enough to choke him, and pulled him up. It drove you deeper into him — had Vio's eyes rolling to the back of his skull, had him clawing at you with almost the same intensity as he moaned. “Fuck you this good,” your hand trailed to his abdomen, where skin stretched thin, “fill you up, make you scream. You know I’m the only one who can do it for you. Only I know who you are, what you deserve. Right, Vio?”

“O-Only you,” Vio rasped, “only you, Y/N. Please.”

“You keep saying that,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his jugular absent-mindedly. His pulse was fluttering, light and so fast in a way you thought suited the image of delicacy he’d crafted for the world. The way his body molded to your shape said otherwise, unbreaking, despite your efforts to do just that. “What are you begging for? What have I not given you?”

“Everything.” Wisps of blue flurried in your vision, and they were all you could see for seconds after Vio tilted his head back on your shoulder. The ocean, in the colour of his eyes. Lapping waves that undulated and moved towards you. “This much isn’t enough.” Seasalt at his nape, on your tastebuds, becoming addictive. “Give it all to me.” Threatening to drown you. “Y/N.”

For a second you were gone, and then his voice, weighted only momentarily, had you snapping back into reality, into motion, into him. “Greedy,” you tittered, index up his Adam’s apple to tap on his chin and push it down, “can’t you see that I already am?”

“Fuck.” Vio's eyes widened, the slightest bit — you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking. Your palm smoothed over where his belly bulged, applied a little pressure and watched his pupils blow. It was funny to you that he hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck. Y/N, wait.” Between his legs, Vio's dick twitched, clearly not as spent as either of you had first assumed, not with how it was leaking now. “Wait!”

There are things you’d never know about him; what type of pleasure coursed through his veins on seeing the strain you put on him, if it was a physical fulfillment, if it was solely the feeling, or the thought, being claimed, stretched, ruined. You never wondered about it long — after all, it didn’t matter. In seconds, the ocean overflowed for you. He spilt for you.

Vio lost his mind for you.

[boycritter]

can you explain your most recent poem? i like it but i don’t really get it lol

ohhhh okay. holy shit you have no idea how happy this makes me. idk how in depth you want me to go. but i’m going in depth. i know there’s not like separate stanzas or anything in this poem but in my head there’s chunks it’s split into. overall this poem is about not really knowing who you are or what you’re doing (i’m 17 so all my poems are kind of about this at least a little bit). it’s about uncertainty and loneliness and trying to make something (a place, a life) for yourself when everything feels like so much.

so the first few lines ‘in this one im a cumulonimbus cloud. in this one im mango juice. theres a world where i supernova and one where i pitch drop’ are kinda setting the themes for the poem. like the objects im gonna use to convey the message as well a kinda overarching theme of unstable identity/endless possibilities. and then the supernova/pitch drop part is smth im really proud of i like that a lot :3 idk if you’re familiar with the pitch drop experiment but basically it’s a super super slow moving liquid and people are trying to see when a drop will fall. (a few drops have fallen but no one’s seen them it’s a whole thing you should look it up :3). so that line is saying there’s a timeline in which i burn myself out in a super destructive way and one where i take it slow. and then ‘pitch drop’ is also a reference to testosterone voice changes lol. so there’s a timeline where i live my true life and take it slow.

and then the next part is ‘i cried planck epoch and nothing came running and i cried planck epoch and all my protons were so lonely and i cried planck epoch and all my sheep died anyway. i cried mango juice and the universe hugged me tighter.’ which is using the double meaning of cry as yelling/tears. and it’s an allusion to the boy who cried wolf where i’m saying something is happening but no one’s even paying attention. disclaimer i am not an expert on the physics of the beginning of the universe. like at all. but basically the planck epoch was the first 10^-43 seconds of the universe when everything was super super hot and super super condensed. so i’m saying this is happening and no one’s listening, and even when everything is happening and i’m objectively not isolated but i still feel like i am. and then the crying mango juice part is using the other meaning of cry, and the universe hugging tighter is also planck epoch stuff.

the next chunk is ‘i rained fractals and the dirt sang ion. my electrons touch anything they can get their hands on.’ i like this part :3 the raining fractals is just a mess of uncertainties, bc that’s what fractals are yknow!! the singing ion part is also fun, bc obviously ions are particles and sound is a wave, so it’s a little paradoxical :3 and also i didn’t want a later line to feel so out of place. the second sentence kinda calls back to the ‘i cried planck epoch and all my protons were so lonely’. bc while our nuclei are so so tiny in terms of the entire atom and will likely never touch another nuclei, our electrons are constantly interacting with other atoms electrons. so it’s meant to be saying like. i’m lonely and i’m trying to fix that. somehow. in some way.

the last chunk is the biggest one and also the one inspired by smth @/green-cargaytions wrote and sent me which isn’t posted anywhere but i still need to hype up their writing skills bc it’s insane it’s actually bonkers. anyways. ‘once i tried to derive a function for the meaning of it all and my paper fissioned love and jazz quartet. some infinities are bigger than other infinities and i used to think that was blaspheme but now i think id like to make it idolatry. and i think id like to be one of the smaller infinities. i think i’d like to be closer to it all.’ so the first part is about the intersection between math and science and music bc i’m insane about stuff like that. but also, i tried to find a formula to fix my uncertainty. and it didn’t work. and my paper broke apart. which basically says that you don’t know what you’re gonna do. and you don’t have to know. you can’t know. but in the meantime, you have to love what’s around you and you have to appreciate art. the fact that some infinities are bigger than other infinities is also something i’m obsessed with. and i personally never found it blasphemous lol but when georg cantor introduced that notion people definitely thought it was. because the only infinity is g-d. and idolatry is also blasphemous. but i like the juxtaposition of synonyms. idk how to put this part into words exactly </3 and then the last part is kind of saying. there’s so much uncertainty and instability in the world. and isolating yourself isn’t the answer. you gotta just live life and try not to worry too much. which easier said than done obviously lol but. still. it’s about coming into your body and out of your head. at least a little bit.

anyways this is probably one of my favorite things i’ve ever written and now i get to talk about my thoughts on it. i love this i love writing essays on my own work thank you so much ^-^

[melmodest]

MANIC

Am I normal?

Does it consider normal?

I’ve been staying up several nights in a raw

writing notes

that don’t have any sense.

They do have a sense –

to me.

But me is me.

I’m not destined to make choices for other creatures.

Just me.

These days I’m unusually productive –

washed filth from my drawers

and dusted my desk.

I’ve been fueled with coffee –

black neat and bitter.

I’m so in love with the world

currently.

And people.

I’m never fond of people.

They represent malice

and blooming poisonous flowers

in well-maintained gardens

hidden behind fenced houses.

I love people

currently.

They seem fine

and kind.

I find people funny.

Lately, I’ve been energized to the point I started to consider myself a genius.

At the moment I am strongly convinced

that I am glamorous

and a conqueror of the Milky Way.

Do you think I’m heading only halfway?

Should I level up the stakes of the play?

I will probably win.

I will grab victory

as a trophy

and put it to my collection of trinkets

abandoned on the highest shelves

in a closet

with spider webs

littered in corners.

I’m talking too fast.

Lately my head has been whirling in a salsa dance

scaling up volume

each second.

My swirling thoughts have been passing by

like strangers.

It’s absolute truth and lie –

they can be passersby

but never strangers.

Yesterday I baked a pie

filled with cherries and strawberries.

A pie is mine.

I didn’t share my pie

with anyone.

‘Cause I’m thirsty

and starving

and my famine demands I swallow up each piece

of a pie

filled with quizzes,

puzzles

and

brain teasers,

for me

to make up my mind

what will it be

cherries

or

strawberries

or,

maybe,

me?

(I didn’t know which was rotten).

It’s a mere blink of an eye.

I open my eyes

And ask, "Why?"

Why now?

Couldn’t you wait?

A little.

This is the part

I lose sync with emerald green grass and pure blue sky.

This is the part

when I sink.

I don’t want to sink.

I don’t want to get drowned in the rain.

Not again.

But my mind always finds its way

to intrude my vein.

My mind is my favorite game.

My mind and I play this game

forever.

My mind is a dexterous player.

And I’m a sucker.

But we are both too adamant

and fixed

on beating one another.

It’s getting hazy

more,

more

and more.

I don’t want to get blind!

I don’t want to get deaf!

It’s cold.

And I sniffle.

I mopped the floor in the living room.

I mowed the lawn.

I trimmed bushes in the backyard.

I swept the backyard

and the driveway

I threw away

my getaway

to downplay

my chances

to lose the game.

I am ready to fight the fall.

But the fall isn’t ready to let me loose.

Am I normal?

Does it consider normal?

I’ve been very productive lately.

I’ve been utterly happy,

Enjoying my time out of home

and conversations with people on phone.

I’m in love with people.

I love people.

I worship people.

I’ve been staying up every night

13 days in a raw –

two hours of sleep at night,

food-deprived.

I am alright.

But my fingers are trembling

and I am sweating too much.

Cold sweat.

I bet

it’s just my head

plays all sneaky and tricky.

Please,

head,

don’t flicker.

I NEED to stay up all night.

To write.

To love people.

I don’t want to hate people.

Or green grass.

Or blue sky.

I want to be starving and thirsty.

I want to crave life.

I want to stay happy

and smiley

and productive.

I NEED me.

I need me to be mine.

Please,

head,

don’t flicker.

I need me.

I need THIS version of me

loving,

confident,

bright.

Please,

head,

I promise

I will surrender.

I will crawl under my bedsheets to replenish all sleepless nights.

I will sleep

and sink

and dive deep into the waters

of your diabolical genius.

I will be your obedient kid.

The one you need.

Please,

head,

I admit

I am not normal.

It doesn’t consider normal.

We are two sides of one coin.

Versions.

But,

head,

give me time, stop this whirlwind motion.

I welcome both versions.

Head,

I’m in love with this version of me

more.

.

.

A couple years ago I was very stubborn and still partially in denial to admit that smth was wrong with me. I hoped that whatever it was it would just pass by itself. I was foolish and yet to seek a proper treatment and go into therapy knowing that was probably the best way to finally have my life back in my hands. I was flipping episode after episode trying to collect the scattered all over the place pieces of myself - from utter despair to the highest elation. Highs. Lows. I wrote this when I was in one of my highs. Rereading it now, I think this piece is a very detailed retelling of that time - chaotic, all pastel colors and dark splashes, bittersweet happy joy. I loved that me.

.

[pattern-recognition]

why r u so consumed by bougie lux stuff. is it the glimpses of glamour seen thru the cracks in uni life. not saying u should toil in the mines or smth god. just what is it about this Incredibly Complex Iphonesque Simplicity

yeah, that’s definitely a part of it, but I do enjoy minimalism on a purely aesthetic level too. I feel like this ask was probably prompted by that Re sake bottle i reblogged earlier (after checking out the company responsible, yes they are as obnoxiously bourgeois as you can expect, claiming to be ‘the most sustainable bar in the world’). I honestly prefer graphic design along similar lines, i find the clinical simplicity reassuring in a world where signal lost the war to noise, though the contradiction, in this case with the greenwashing australian bar, is obvious. If i were to ever have an apartment where I would be able to decorate to my preferences, something not possible in any of the spaces I’ve lived in these 21 years thus far, I would enjoy that sort of bohemian minimalist style, with only the bare necessities of furniture, a low bed, a stack of books, and a laptop. A part of it comes from my mom who, while i grew up, was sort of a hoarder, and now the thought of having more possessions than can fit in the back of a truck is anxiety inducing.

That isn’t to say, my any means, that my aesthetic preferences are some sort of mental illness thing or whatever bullshit though, and I’m not trying to pull an ‘i’m literally neurodivergent and a minor’ type rhetoric smokescreen. My desires are a product of the spectacle, and I’m cognizant of that. The world of petite bourgeois freelancers and corporate consultants with their healthy networks, good education, interesting lives, decent pay, and creative outlets is a comfortable daydream to live in via digital immersion. Its not real for people like me though, not the way things are looking. It makes me want to tear off little bits of them though, where i can find them discarded or emulated, hoping i can fashion enough of a facade that some of that fortune might rub off.

Though if this was about brutalist architecture or something i’m just going to have to shoot you because it fucks like a rhinoceros in the rain no argument. conk crete babey

[infiniteinoblivionn]

1- don’t worry darling, the chair, Hamilton

2- they’re white and hug my feet so nicely

3- I love smoothies

4- a dress. Which isn’t much different from what I usually wear but I’ll do my hair nice and put earrings on and maybe nicer shoes

5- scrambled. Very cooked. I’ll eat it…not scrambled (with a bagel or ramen), as long as the yolk is cooked.

6- I use anything around me as a bookmark

7- black. but I have lots of navy blue and army green too

8- nope

9- hmmm. rain came calm me down, but it also excites me. same with the smell

10- I’m a huge fan of lyrics

11- I wear contacts sadly (but only in one eye cuz my other eye is too far gone for contacts)

12- i love their loyalty and humor and bravery and fashion sense

13- write in pen, draw with pencil

14- hp world lol idk

15- no. I cant keep any plants alive

16- I wish I had a favorite hoodie. I run hot so I usually don’t wear long sleeves/jackets. But I do wish I had a really comfy oversized hoodie I could wear

17- fanx tickets

18- hmmmm. I can’t think of any rn that I’d like to experience but I do have many I’d like to observe as like a ghost lol

19- belle. easily.

20- good at no math

21- man idk the words exactly but I love 1800/1900s art. The paintings of people and landscapes. I love oil paintings

22- iced drinks always.

23- I don’t sing in the shower. But if I did it would be musicals probably

24- my eyesight isn’t great but I consider myself a timid, yet good driver.

25- I currently have 2 piercings!! (Or I guess 4 holes). I have tons of tattoos I wanna get when I have money, and I’d like to get a couple more piercings too.

26- I’ve just started actually cooking. I like it more than baking tbh. I wouldn’t say I’m good at anything specifically but I do make spaghetti a lot

27- I have lots. I have a keychain I bought in nyc, I have a Spotify keychain with the song “peace” by ts, I have foldable scissors, I have a “fuck the patriarchy” keychain, and I can’t remember anything else rn

28- I always thought I was a pretty strong swimmer but I don’t like swimming.

29- loved legos. I didn’t use the sets, I just used the regular blocks. I would build “houses” for my MLPs and I would build flowers and cars and whatever else my child brain thought up.

30- I currently don’t have a “closet”. I just have an armoire which isn’t the same imo😭 and it’s organized in the way that my shirts are hanging up

31- I usually don’t watch mvs so.. probably I Can See You by Taylor swift

32- maybe black or blue or strawberry blonde?

33- earbuds

34- duh, cant everyone 😭😭

35- I had this dolphin I got from my mom and I think her name was crystal and she had a specific place she’d sleep. But now it’s this winky emoji pillow that I “borrowed” from an old friend (his name is choji don’t judge me I don’t even like naruto)

36- uhhh air hockey maybe?

37- I prefer to be alone so I can sing and also I don’t like people watching me

38- I info dump on my friends all the time lol. So idk if they could recite anything but I’ve definitely told them lots about key points/dramatic moments

39- hanging out with my sisters

40- idk trees really but I like the white bark ones and weeping willows and pines

41- plain kind

42- lots of games. Rn my fav is Ludo Club

43- do people shower with the lights off?!?!?!

44- nerve use it unless it’s in my car and then I’ll use it for soda or smth

45- usually

46- uhhh bodycandy.Com if that counts

47- I hate walking. Much rather bike or scooter or anything

48- I like these one..floral? plates and the white bowls

49- listen to music and dramatically walk in the rain. or just watch it

50- very cold. lots of blankets.

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[quarantinedinabaddream]

(wrote this in april i think or may smth like that probably april)

you listen to songs about being in love and wonder if it would actually be the equivalent of fairy tales kids grow up watching except you didn’t instead you grew up thinking love is violent and all or nothing because that’s what it’s always been for you and you don’t remember much from your childhood but what you do remember consists of a few happy memories you can count on your fingers and a plethora of memories you wish you didn’t remember memories you would do anything to forget. you read about broken girls who find their homes in each other and wonder if it will ever happen to you and despite the yearning you still can’t imagine unconditional love ever being your reality. you watch girls kissing and fucking on the television and close your eyes, count till ten till you can breathe again without choking but that never stops the tears because even if someone loved you they would want that too but you don’t want that you can’t give anyone that so you watch people you like a lot be with other people instead and you let them go too because they deserve better than the mess you are and alas this isn’t a taylor swift song but your life and thus no one wants the mess that you are. you know that you inherited your mother’s cruelty and your father’s indifference and you do everything you can to make up for it but it never matters because your temper is like a ticking bomb and it never fails to blow up no matter how many times you try to diffuse it. you and your mother don’t really have much in common except that she hates you and you hate yourself and sometimes you even wonder if your hate is just an extension of hers and would you still hate yourself if you weren’t only her obligation. you hate winter it’s too cold and it makes you wanna sleep and never wake up but you hate summer too so when the skies are way too clear you yearn for rain and the kind of cold it brings which makes you feel oddly safe, the kind which makes you wanna huddle underneath blankets and stay there safe and sound. you aren’t old enough for it yet but you drink sometimes because it makes time stop for a while even though your world swims and blurs and you think about how ashamed 12 year old you would’ve been. you take pills for no reason but it’s never enough to kill you it only puts you to sleep sooner and you wake up feeling more hollow and wondering if the bitter poison flowing through your veins would ever stand a chance against the poison inside your head and perhaps heart too. you used to make yourself bleed, you still do sometimes but other times you just hold a knife against your scarred wrists and thighs and hips and press it just enough to feel the pressure but never enough to actually make you bleed and it gives you an odd sense of relief knowing that you hold the power to end your misery. you hate your reflection and your body and you wonder whether she would love you if you looked like the girls she admires. you starve yourself till you’re skin bones not because you want to be skinny but because for some sick twisted reason you can’t stand food it feels like stone in your throat and you can never get rid of that feeling no matter how hard you try. you can never get rid of feeling like nothing you do will ever be enough for anyone. and you can never stop feeling half empty just like this fucking stupid writeup.

[tatakaebomb]

Repent your sins

ꕥ Pairing : demon!Sukuna x Reader

ꕥ Synopsis : maybe praying in an abandoned church isn’t the best way to show your love to god.

ꕥ Word count : 1.8k

ꕥ TW : EXTREME BLASPHEMY, religious themes, profanity, mentions of idols, degrading, body possession, blood kink, blood play, therianthropy, necrophilia (ig sukuna is like dead spirit or smth), pelargonium x reader, damage to the holy cross, sex in a holy place, smut, unprepped pussy, forced sex, rape, non con, slight dub con (y/n gets possessed), indoctrination, corruption kink, virginity taking, manipulation, heresy, extreme religious offence, pejorative language, Dom! Sukuna, spirits, mocking language, quite graphic, don’t read it easily offended or easily upset, paranoia, sadism, face slapping, smut, probs a lot others read at own risk. 18+

Cold wind whisked through your hair as your flat shoes began getting drenched from the feeling of the rain under you. You trying your hardest to run as hard and as fast as you could. The time was almost 3am. You had only 10 minutes to pray. You needed to repent. Quick and fast.

Arriving at the closed off church you quickly walked inside, getting on your knees and cupping your hands infront of one of the beautiful monarch windows, an ancient bible kept safe in a glass box as you hung your head low in shame.

‘May god forgive me for my sins for thou shall not commit potential idolatry again. Jesus is my saviour and may the lord consider my apologies.’

You almost cried at the thought of what you did today, considering the way you compared the work to the thought of god himself. The beautiful picture mounted of a man on the wall, hung high in an archaic museum, wondering intrusive thoughts of other spirits above rebelling you against your forever faith.

You were the only person in this church, you always were. The place was abandoned over 2 century’s ago. Nobody stepping foot in a place considered to be haunted by the spirit of lucifer. But you always found comfort in this place, the way the beautiful mosaic still stood tall, the way paths and benches were so amazingly carved to fit the place. The way you felt so much closer with god every time you were in the presence.

Nobody came here, ever. The church was desolate. The woods and trees wrapping around it, nobody was within 20 miles from here.

You devoted yourself at such a young age, praying every day. Hoping you earnt yourself a place in the paradise above. Modest clothes draping down to your ankles scarf draped around your neck as the only skin of you showing was the slight colour of your chest, highlighting the glistening cross low around your throat.

‘I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart…I have overc-‘

‘Boo.’

Your heart dropped at the feeling of someone behind you, your head whipped around to see the door creaked open, little strikes of lightning filling up the room as you could hardly make out the face of the lean body watching you. Red sore lips, covering the teeth of a demon. Sharp and broad. Their foot rested against the wall as they peered at you. Taking in your kneeled figure.

‘Scared you did I?’ The strange man chuckled, nearing towards you, small steps being taken making you push yourself closer and closer towards the back of the bench, dress now dirty from the dirt of the floor.’

‘W-who are you…’

‘Hm…didn’t think you’d still be here y/n. When the clock turns 3, you should be resting…breaking your one devoted rule now are you?’

Your eyes widened at the realisation of his words. The strike of 3… the devils hour. Your blood went cold as you could feel his predatory stare take in the way fear prodded at your every bone.

‘How do you know my name. ANSWER ME?!’

‘The armour of god… it took me for a shock when I heard there’s still devoted saviours like you. God forgives all those who accept him, idolatry seems to one of the worser sins…’ he muttered to himself, analysing you and your forever faith. The closer he got the scarier he seemed. Broad torn body, evil, possessed eyes, you could see his forever rebellion in the eyes of the saviour. He looked like a demon.

‘Sukuna. Might come a shock to you if I released my identity so soon…im a fallen angel…’

This must be a lie, surely? God has your side, what is this sick twisted joke.

‘Shutup you lycanthrope. A full moon doesn’t dismiss me from the powers our saviour keeps.’

‘I’m not a werewolf you freak.’ He laughed at your idiocy, you were so paranoid, so mind blown at the sight of him infront of you.

He was unreal, the way he crouched so close to your body. Your eyes not daring to stare into his, afraid of the indoctrination he holds beneath those empty sockets, however the more you really got to look at him, the normality hit you. He had two arms, two legs… two working eyes. Scars ripped from under his skin as his sharp tongue leaked out to play with his canines. Greed in the way he took you in.

‘Wow, I really got lucky with you hm? Your beautiful. Just wished you showed more of that delectable skin.’ He inhaled deeply, taking in the stench of fear attached to you.

‘You insane freak. Touch me and you’ll be punished.’ You commanded. Teeth gritted angry at the sight of his perversion.

Suddenly, his hand moved towards your neck, playing with the metal of the necklace, analysing it with his eyes, the way the metal of it glistened under his touch…then dragging it off you quickly as the cross collided with the filthy floor. You were gobsmacked by his audacity.

‘Oops… Hear that?… Yep nor do I, seems like even in the holiest of places god is not by your side.’

He laughed at his filthy remarks, pure disregard for you. You began to whimper at the idea of what’s about to happen next. Quickly your hand was grabbed, fingers rubbed and played with in his grasp as his lips move to latch onto your neck, purple marks engraved within you.

‘You pagan infidel. GET OF- AHHH!’ You felt yourself scream at the feeling of his sharp teeth sinking into your skin, blood leaking from the two new holes in your neck as he quickly thrown you flat on the floor, body effortlessly climbing onto of yours, arms pinned flat down above your head.

‘I like my victims bratty. I’m gonna have so much fun with you baby.’ His lips quickly attached to yours as you could feel his legs move to quickly separate yours, one finger nail dragging down your dress, ripping it apart as the feeling of your arousal fuelled his senses, cat like yellow eyes turning completely black with the fulfilment of his lust blown pupils.

‘NO PLEASE… please no…’ you cried at the thought of fornication. Your virgin body not ready for the stripping of an insane spirit.

A hard slap almost bruised your face, skin then quickly being pinched as your eyes teared up.

‘You speak too much. Maybe you should’ve just submitted from the beginning.’

Doe like sight staring into his as he moved to kiss down your body, ripping every seam of it into pieces until your revealed in your underwear. Bra and panties white and pure, just how you were. He almost drooled at the sight of how vulnerable you were, blood dripping from your untouched skin as your brain rushed from confusion. Scarf in pieces around your beautiful hair.

His teeth clawed at your bra, snapping it apart as he moved to pinch at your nipples, Back arching at his rough human like skin. His morphing powers making him completely able to seduce you.

‘You got some pretty tits baby, you shouldn’t hide them as much as you do.’

‘UGH- STOP IT YOU PERVERT.’ You almost moaned, his feeling taking over your body as you unconsciously began pushing yourself lower onto his leg.

‘Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop it. Now keep still this might hurt a lot.’

His cock shoved inside of your unprepped pussy as you ripped a tear from the bottom of your chest, huge 10 inches slamming in and out of you at an insane speed, blood spewing onto the floor, as he grinned at the way your body became possessed, moans and screams slipping from you, attempting to fight back the capture method he’s using to take over your body.

‘Shit- you look so much better like this. Such pretty eyes you have baby.’ His mouth moved to attach to your lips, you instantly reacting and kissing him back, numb forcefully submitted body drooling at the feeling of him. Love on your tongue.

‘W-what have you- AHh- done to me-‘ you manage to escape out your lips, scared at the way your visioning him. Harsh slaps thrown to your clit had your head spin, lips red from being sucked on so hard, blood drawing from your every sector. Your tits moving up and down as his eyes latched onto how your ass hole was gathering the mixture of slick and blood all together, so excited to be able to fuck your tight little hole later.

‘I told you I’m a fallen angel, and thanks to your mistakes, I’m making you mine’

You could hear his loud laugh from a mile out, menacing and cruel hips still snapping inside you at a cruel pace.

‘Mm- w-wha-ah-..’ you longed out, mind blank confused on what this tense knot building inside of you was.

‘Cum and your getting fucked until 3am tomorrow. Got it?’

‘Y-yes sir…’

‘Who owns you..’ he snarled, hissing through his teeth at how wet you are, how good your sucking him in despite being so unprepped.

‘Y-you’

‘Who?’

‘YOU- YOU YOU YOU- aaahh- please-‘ pleaseee…’ you babbled, back arching at the way his fingers played at the red circle inside you, so scared of misbehaving for him.

He grabbed your face, fingers pinching at your cheeks again as he turned to face the cross on the right of you, both of you staring at it as his face neared yours.

‘Whose your saviour bitch?’

‘..y-y-you sukuna..’ you sobbed, your body going numb, words leaving your mouth without any correlation behind it.

Sloppy wet noises filling the empty church, your begging was granted as he finally let you cum. You spilt all over him, squirting and creaming, juices being shot everywhere as he stared mesmerised at how you did that.

‘That was so sexy- your doing that again until I can see blood come out of you. Got it?’

‘Yeah…’ you breathed out exhausted and scared. Pulling out you groaned at the loss of feelings, hand reaching to wrap around his neck as you leant in for another kiss, body weakly used, loss of blood and illusion making you crazy. Your eyes still shot white through possession. Body doing insane things without your permission.

‘May the lord forgive thou who sins hm…’ he chuckled at his mocking language, seeing how well your eyes began draining, skin turning paler and tongue sharper with every spell he forced inside you. One arm wrapped around your waist making you rest your exhausted head on his shoulder.

‘Such a good girl you were…’

[futurecentury]

this is all honestly great analysis! I think smth that I often think about is that Rain’s reactions to Allenby getting closer with Domon are more complex than solely just romantic jealousy, they really are more tied to like. the fear of being replaced, in either a platonic or romantic sense. This is worsened by the fact that Allenby is a Fighter and Martial Artist in a way Rain isn’t really. Rain CAN fight, but in the way that G Fighter presents Martial Artists and Fighting Communication, she doesn’t really communicate in that way as her main way of processing the world like Domon does. Domon and Allenby bond a lot because they are speaking the same language in terms of that Fighting Communication, and I get the sense Rain probably feels like she can’t keep up, either with Domon’s attachment to Allenby or the rest of the Shuffles. It’s a feeling I’ve felt before and it sucks. And adding the complicated romantic feelings Rain has too and her tendency and fatal flaw to bottle up her feelings just makes it worse.

I also thought the manga wasn’t as bad as I was expecting in terms of Rain characterization (the chibi 4komas were a little bit more flanderized, but I feel like everything in those was kinda pushed for comedy). In a way I think maybe you could read the occasional times that Rain blows up and has a kind of comically overdone reaction as a symptom of how she bottles stuff up—sometimes, that explodes.

While I know the manga made by Kōichi Tokita made Rain stupidly tsundere, it's kind of funny to watch in post, especially with the really OOC-styled expressions she gets here and there + little bits of more involved expressions~

Like look at this teeny doc mechanic here:

I want 20.

[ifmywishescametrue]

i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

[athenamgh]

DON'T FORGET ME - #I

a/n: veryy veryy old idea.. lets see if smth good of it will come out... btw it will have at least two parts

paring/s: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

summary: two broken hearts need to heal each other.. but will they..

warning/s: tears, angst, fluff (i am soo not sure....)

word count: 1.7k

Chapter I | Chapter II

Natasha Romanoff MASTERLIST

You slowly opened your eyes and they met the dark ceiling. It seemed it was still an early morning because the room was still sinking in the dark. You slowly turned your head to the side, your palm brushing through the empty space aside. Suddenly, you tightly clenched the sheets in your fist, closing your eyes strongly.

You slowly opened your eyes and they met two beautiful forest green orbs. Before you could notice your body was already acting in it’s own way, your face spread a bright smile. Natasha was looking at you with those dark green eyes, you could drown in, her hair messy due to the sleep, made her look even more beautiful whenever.

You gently brushed the loose strand of hair, whispering “Good morning gorgeous”. A soft smile spread her soft lips and reddish crawl up her face. She was about to cover herself, to hide her face with sheets, but you gently caught her wrists. “Don’t you dare to run from me”. 

Natasha looked at you with a challenging look “Or what?”. Your face crept up a smirk, you quickly brought your hands to her sides starting to tickle her.

The laugh filled the room. She was trying to defend herself, but your hands there faster running across her body. “Okay, okay,” she giggled, “stop now, please” , but you didn’t want to let her go so easily. 

“Say, that you won’t hide from me ever again”, Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly, her lips spread a wide smile, she nodded. Romanoff  wrapped her hands around your neck, looking deep into your eyes, admiring the pure affection sparking in them.

  “I would never want to be apart from you y/n”. You felt her hand brush your cheek, then slim fingers ghosting your bottom lip. All this time your eyes didn’t disconnect even for a breath second.

In a moment of surprise Natasha swiftly flipped two of you over, now she was on the top straddling your waist. You widely smiled at her tricky move, lifting yourself up on your forearms “I will never be able to stay away from you, huh?” you asked, astonished. 

Natasha leaned forward for a moment with a mischievous smile, placing her index finger on your bottom lip making your tongue brush it lightly “Well, that’s the plan, dear..”. 

You lifted your eyebrow playfully, “Oh, really?”. 

“Mhm,” she giggled, now shaping your strong jawline with her finger. 

“Well, then how about we make it even, huh?.” Her lips parted, her tongue liking her bottom lip while  looking up at you. “You will never be able to get me out of your head,” you said with such a low almost husky voice. 

She leaned her head to the side slightly because of your statement, from her eyes you could tell she was intrigued. “And how would you possibly do that?” she said seductively.

Suddenly you lifted yourself up from your elbows making her sit down in your lap. A  gasp escaped her lips at the sudden closeness, her hands resting on your chest. You looked at her deep green eyes, analyzing every detail of it. While your fingers ghosted the side of her neck, then lingered at her collarbone. You noticed she was holding her breath, looking stunned at you. At this moment Natasha Romanoff only belonged to you and you only belonged to her. Then, with both of your hands, you gently took the sides of her face. Bringing her closer to you, one of your thumbs brushing the soft skin of her cheek, your lips inches apart, but before they could touch one another, you whispered, “This…” and your lips blended together into a perfect kiss.

You shot your eyes open. Sweat covering your body. You sit up in the bed crawling into the ball. Your hand now tangled in your hair, cheeks riding down salty tears.

 ---

It was a late evening. Moon step by step climbing up the dark sky to settle in for a night. The room was quiet, just the sound of the light rain tears from time to time interrupted the comfortable silence. Natasha was curled up into the ball near the window, her eyes lost somewhere far in the distance, guarding something or someone.

The sudden movement inside of the room interrupted the peaceful, but gloomy atmosphere. “You know, you need to leave your room sometimes,” Steve’s voice reached her ears. 

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you knocked sometimes,” Natasha said without turning around.  

“You are becoming a hater, Nat.” this time she just ignored his comment, drowning somewhere deep in her own world.

Since the day Steve has met Natasha, he kind of promised himself he would do everything he can to protect her, of course, as everyone else who was part of his life. Natasha for Steve was such a dear friend and he hated so much seeing Nat like this: broken, hurt, lost. And there was just so little he could do to lighten the Romanoff’s pain.

“It’s been months Nat”. 

“And it seems like nothing has changed…” Natasha’s voice almost sank into the whisper. 

“She is still on your mind, isn’t she?” Natasha turned around, brushing the tear sliding down her face. Her eyes reddish and cheeks stained with tears. “And it hurts too?”

Taking a deep breath Natasha parted her lips “If I didn’t feel the pain, maybe it would be easier to forget? Forget how good it felt, how bright and beautiful everything looked, how sweet it all sounded, to forget it all...” Steve’s face softened, he came up to Natasha, sitting beside her.

“Nat,” he stopped for a moment, thinking. “They say with time the pain fades away, but they always forget to mention how in fact long it takes to finally feel it calm down even a tiny bit. It seems the pain gets more and more powerful with every day until it almost claims you completely.” Natasha’s gazed down, her hand tightly clenching the blanket.

“And there is nothing. Not even the shining armor you suited yourself to protect your heart or giant walls you built around to save yourself from pain, will hardly defend you from what your heart desires.” Steve continued. “And even then all the pain fades away, you won’t forget it. It will always be in the back of your mind and heart, lingering there and never fading away.” He reached to take her hand, squeezing it tightly for a moment and letting it go, making Natasha to look up. “Because Nat, you can’t just stop loving someone who you fall for so unconditionally. Your heart will never forget someone who once made you truly happy.” Steve saw how the last tear rolled out on Natasha’s cheek.

“I knew you were sentimental bastard, but not that strong” she said jokingly and Steve for the first time in month’s saw her lips spread a tiny smile even if it was for only a moment. 

“What should I do?” she asked, her eyes filling with new tears again. 

“Natasha, only you can decide what to do, what or who to choose.” She barely nodded. “Now, get some sleep, a long day is waiting for you tomorrow,” Steve said while walking towards the doors. He was about to exit, but Natasha’s voice stopped him, making Steve turn around 

“Thank you, I don’t think I say it enough”. Steve gave her a soft smile before leaving.

 ---

The sound of someone entering the small grocery store interrupted the soft music playing in the background. You were standing in front of one of the shop shelves, searching for the right ingredients for dinner. It was probably a good idea to make at least one home meal. Instead of buying pizza or any other meal that you could possibly order directly to your apartment.

You were about to grab a serial box, but suddenly you heard a familiar voice. “Y/n?” you turned to your right, recognizing the person. 

“Oh, Wanda” you greeted each other with a warm hug. “What are you doing here?” You shook your head a little, “I mean, obviously you are in the grocery store because of the food.” 

Wanda released a small laugh, “Yeah, that’s how it kind of works. Or the shop just convinces you that you need something, even if you really do not.” You chuckled lightly agreening.

Wanda stepped closer to you, reaching to crease your left arm “So, how are you doing?” 

You glanced down “You know, I would say that I'm okay’ or ‘Everything is alright’,” You looked up at her, facing her concerned face “But I know you know me better than that, so I would just say… I don’t know, I really don’t know.” Wanda nodded slightly 

“I hope everything will be okay soon.” You nodded, barely smiling. 

You shook your head a little, asking “Less about me, how are you and the avengers?”

“They are good. Nothing new lately, just a few missions here and there, everything as usual. Thor is too busy being a badass and worrying about his hair, Tony and Bruce working on some kinda project that I am too confused yet to talk about, I keep myself busy with training stuff and helping Steve and Nat.." Wanda's voice cut off at the last name, realizing what she said, you heart skipped a beat at the sound of the name that left Wanda's lips.. After a moment more Wanda continued ''Everyone is just keeping themselves busy, ever. Long story short everyone is okay”. 

  “Not all happy, but okay” she added, listening to her last words made your heart ache even more. “We miss you, you know?”

You smiled with a small smile at her words “Yeah, I miss you too guys..” 

Wanda looked at you for a moment “Would you come to the party tomorrow that Tony is throwing?” You looked at her hesitantly. “Come on” she pushed you shoulder. “We would love to see you”

You looked at the ground for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’ll promise to consider it,” you said, looking up at Wanda.

“That’s all I need” her lips spread a wide smile. “I see you there!” she said walking away. You rolled your eyes at her playfully.

---

As you stood in front of a mirror smoothing your palms over the small wrinkles on your dark velvet suit, the only thought that was lingering in your mind was how desperately you wanted to crawl up in a ball in your bed and just stay like that forever. You didn’t want to go to that party. 

~~> |Chapter II| <~~

[maskedpalmcivet]

So nobody cares about this, but a while ago I made a post about crossing over Star Wars the The Locked Tomb series. Since then I did some thinking on what it would look like. So here are some ideas I had

The backstory:

It starts off with a young Harrow at home on the Ninth House. Young as in 8 years old.

In comes a young Anakin. I imagine Anakin is 1-2 years older than Harrow, so maybe he’d be around 10. This is fresh off of Tattooine Anakin, newly apprenticed. He’s maybe been a padawan for a month or so.

Something has happened to have Anakin land on the Ninth House with a way to get back, not sure what yet. At the Ninth House, he meets little Harrow.

Baby Harrow is all “gross who are you get away from my house I will smite you,” and baby Anakin is all “You’re a funky little fellow can I be your friend?”. So Anakin is consistently kind and Harrow is increasingly suspicious but the kind of get along. They learn names, Anakin learns about where he is, Harrow learns why this boy has an ugly braid.

But then the Ninth House bell (which I forgot the name of) rings and Harrow has to leave. She tells Anakin, in her snobbiest baby voice possible, to never come back. Anakin makes it a vow to come back as often as possible.

So Anakin, year after year, finds a time where he can sneak away to the Ninth House and see his funky little emo friend. Harrow, begrudgingly, starts to enjoy seeing Anakin. Though she’d never admit it.

But one day, Anakin stops visiting. Harrow isn’t offended, but shes wildly curious and spends a good portion of her days speculating as to why he stopped coming. She guesses it has to do with this obnoxious “Obi-Wan” figure Anakin always complains about.

Present

So fast forward a few years. Mid clone wars for Anakin and the point in Canaan house where Harrow and Gideon start getting along better but aren’t really friends or anything (pre-pool scene)

Some kind of argument happens between someone (Probs Gideon) and Harrow, and Harrow takes an angry walks. (Btw it’s about nighttime when this happens)

However Anakin managed to get to TLT world happens to Harrow. She trips down a hole or smth and when she opens her eyes, she is definitely not in Canaan house.

City lights everywhere, people bustling around, a weird sort of thalergy flowing around (spoiler alert: it’s the force), and it’s all too loud.

Also it’s raining and Harrow decides she doesn’t like that. And it’s kind of dark — she seems to be in an alley — though she is adapted to that stuff.

So she gets up, internally panicking, and looks around. She’s in an alleyway, she steps out of it. The people are strange, it’s noisy, it’s unfamiliar and—

There’s a familiar presence. Though Harrow doesn’t quite understand why she can sense it so well.

She turns around. Across the street, clipping his lightsaber back on his belt, is Anakin.

Anakin senses her in the force and has a “bitch wtf” moment before spotting her. He quickly crosses the street to get to her.

He grins and goes in for a hug, Harrow doesn’t have time to react so she just awkwardly accepts it, standing all stiff like a stick bug.

“Anakin? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here?”

“Wait— where am I?”

“Coruscant,”

“That weird ass planet you told me about? Ima be honest I kinda didn’t believe you,” (out of character dialogue but shhh,”

“Rude,”

So basically, they talk and figure things out and realize that, hey, Harrow maybe probably doesn’t have a way to get to get home.

So Anakin is like, “You know what, I’m on leave and heading home from uh Jedi stuff (meeting with Padme), so why don’t you come back to the temple with me and we’ll get everything sorted out in the morning,”

Harrow cautiously agrees.

When they get there, Harrow hates to admit it and won’t say it, but the Jedi temple is very beautiful. She’s not one for pretty sights, but she is one for long hallways full of ambiance and the Jedi temple at night is full of that.

They continue down the halls, having pleasant conversation and catching up. Anakin takes that time to casually drop that he’s been in a war for the last year or so and that’s why he hasn’t been able to visit. Harrow acts nonplussed.

They’re about to head into Anakin room when they encounter Rex walking towards the exit (he’s probably in the temple to help out with smth)

Rex decides he is way to Tired™️ for this shit and promptly keeps walking, only having an “o shit, what the fuck” moment when he’s out of the temple.

Anakin tells Harrow to crash on the couch he apparently has. Harrow does and lays very stiffly while Anakin goes to sleep in his own bed. Harrow doesn’t expect to get any sleep at all, but again that weird thalergy seems to surround her, stronger than ever, and lulls her into a sleep like a mother rocking a child.

The next morning, Harrow wakes up before Anakin. She leaves one of her notes with the cramped handwriting and goes to walk around the halls.

The gremlin sticks to the shadows, trying to be as subtle as possible. But of course someone (Obi-Wan), can sense her.

He approaches silently when her back is turned. Curiously, he tilts his head, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” he comments.

Harrow jumps out of her skin. She whirls around and nearly conjures a skeleton or two, but Obi places his hand out placatingly.

“Calm,” he soothes, “Captain Rex informed me he saw you with Anakin, if you were at all threatening then my Palawan would have done something. I only want to talk,”

Harrow tilts her chin up, leaning her weight in her back most leg and crossing her arms, “So it’s you,” she sneers, lip curling in a nasty way.

Obi steps back, “Excuse me?”

“You’re the mysterious mentor Anakin always complained about—“

“Ah- when I was younger!” Anakin cuts in, rushing down the almost endless halls of the temple. He lands on a heavy foot next to Harrow, “Harrow,” he hisses, “this isn’t really a place where you’re supposed to be, so keep your existence on the down low,”

And then Anakin drags Obi and Harrow to his room and explains everything. Obi suggests that Harrow speaks with the council, Anakin nearly choked and bc of that, Harrow shakes her head no.

So Anakin convinces Obi to let Harrow stay in contact with and be around him (Ani) until they can send her home. This does mean she has to tag along for any missions and campaigns and, when on leave, have a small apartment.

So this begins Harrow going on many clone wars style adventures and also Gideon joins the verse at some point and I have a whole plot planned out and so many other fun things.

Also a side note: Anakin teaches Harrow how to do engineering and stuff and Harrow turns out to be a HUGE techie and embués her necromancy with tech. She creates a ninja star/bone trap weapon that she used.

Let me know if you want to see more!

[serowotonin]

˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger. 

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open. 

In it sat a small box. 

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips. 

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it. 

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least. 

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end… 

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune. 

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him. 

“I love you babe, happy birthday...” 

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light. 

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders. 

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer. 

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back. 

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but… I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else. 

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him. 

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness. 

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave? 

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past. 

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside. 

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter. 

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh. 

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.” 

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her. 

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world. 

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age. 

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv​ @kureyama​

[missinghan]

broken umbrella ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 1,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : a typical day in your life starts with having candies poured over your head and ends with breaking han jisung’s umbrella. 

❖ note : I wanted to write smth dumb okay-

one.

Jisung gives his desk a harsh kick, one that does no good in releasing his inner storm, only to wince in pain later because he’s an idiot. 

Classes have been somewhat less than boring these days, partially because his mind is occupied with thoughts of you half of the time and partially because…well, more thoughts of you. Oh wait, today is a little different than usual considering the fact that you did not give him a proper response. 

To what?

Putting it simply, he woke up early this morning to go over his routine more thoroughly—styling his hair, making sure that his tie isn’t sloppy-looking, and spraying himself with his brother’s cologne. He doesn’t usually care for any one of those things until junior starts and you show up. Call him desperate, or delusional, or childish even but it truly felt like fate when you two first encountered each other. 

“Yeah right, fate,” Hyunjin snickers loudly, swirling a strawberry-flavored lollipop inside his mouth. “You meant when you fell on your ass on the bus the other day and you accidentally grabbed her collar?”

Jisung feels his cheeks heat up thanks to his friend’s less than necessary comment. “Shut the fuck up, you’re just jealous.” It was great. Not only did he fall head over heels for you, but he also left a bad impression. 

Back to the point. All of his hard work this morning is reduced to nothing because of the rain. His hair is messed up, his uniform looks sloppy, and his shoes are covered in mud from skipping through puddles. Not to mention, he showed up timely enough to be there when you opened your locker, having various candies and sweets poured down your head, scattered all over the hallway. 

Yeji should have told him you didn’t like sweet things yesterday, damn it. Because he’s never seen you giving him that look before. The look that makes him believe you will make him experience torment and pain, begging for the mercy that never comes—make his life a living hell basically. 

“How did your plan go, by the way?” His friend asks out of boredom. 

“Fantastic,” he replies under his breath when everything is, in fact, not fantastic. 

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Did she know?”

“Know what? That I’m in love with her? I mean I wasn’t trying to be subtle or anything-“

“No, did she know that it was gonna rain today?”

Shrugging, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion; forty-five minutes periods should be illegal. “Why does that matter?”

“Hey, Han!” 

Jisung turns his head to the voice and sees Felix sliding the door to his classroom open, uneven breaths as if he’s been running for his life while holding two umbrellas in his arms. He glances at his friend’s state with a grimace, head cocked to the side in confusion. Luckily, no one really spends recess in class except for loners like himself anyway. “What are you doing?” 

“Y/N didn’t bring an umbrella!” The freckled boy exclaims with excitement, only able to coax an amused hum from Hyunjin. “But you have an umbrella, and it’s still raining! Which means…?”

A comical silence falls upon the three of them. It takes Jisung approximately five taps of Hyunjin’s finger on the table to fully process his friend’s point. Realization lights up in his eyes like a candle but dies down with a pout on his face. “But she can just go with her friends?” he says with expressive hands, though a little disappointed. 

“I’m not gonna half-ass it if I plan on helping you,” Felix gives the two umbrellas, a white one and a pink one, in his hands a slight jerk, looking oddly proud. 

This time, Jisung catches on immediately; his eyes go wide in shock as though his friend has committed the greatest sin. “Yeji and Lia are so gonna kill you.”

two.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Lia asks while hopeless rummaging through her stuff. “I swear with my own eyes I saw myself putting one in my bag this morning.”

Yeji shakes her head in defeat, tugging at the straps of her backpack. “I was pretty sure I brought one too. I even used it to walk to the bus stop this morning! Someone must have taken it during recess,” she sighs, dreading the pouring rain and grey clouds. 

It’s raining again. It’s only been raining today, the weather forecast did predict that it’s most likely going to last for a whole week too (not that you bothered checking). You don’t mind the rain, though. You like the fact that they make the world appear mistier, hazier like a fever dream. 

What isn’t good about the rain is the fact that your parents won’t be too happy to see you come home looking like a wet rat. Or the fact that you’ll probably get a really bad cold, and that won’t be pretty during midterms week. Or the fact that most students are absolute idiots and didn’t bring their own umbrellas either. Everyone is shoving each other for space under the canopy at the main gate so the rain won’t soak their clothes. 

You’re not having it. At all. 

“Yeji, Lia. I’m going home,” you purse your lips together and take a breath. 

Lia frowns at your particular solution. “Already? But you’re gonna get wet.”

“My house is a ten-minute walk away. Shouldn’t be too bad,” you say lowly in faint annoyance, eyes squinted from the discomfort of lack of space; these students have no manners whatsoever, you’re getting claustrophobic. 

With a determined huff, you pull the zipper of your jacket up and throw the hood over your hair. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Shadow suddenly looms over the top of your head, warmth radiates to your clothed arm. In the corner of your eyes, a familiar face comes into view and forces a heavy exhale from your lips. 

“Hey, do you wanna go with-“ Jisung pauses midway when you take off running, shattering his fantasy of living in a drama into bits without mercy. “Y/N! Wait up!”

three.

“Come here! Or you’ll get sick!”

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Y/N, stop being so stubborn! You’re gonna catch a cold!”

“It’s none of your business.”

After walking down several blocks down the road, past nothing but empty plazas and mostly closed café, you even take an extra U-turn, going through a skeptical alley just so Jisung will get tired and stop following you. Your effort doesn’t not prevail so you give up eventually, deciding to take the proper turn to head home before it’s too late to prepare dinner. 

The poor boy can feel the rain drizzle down his black umbrella before falling onto his windbreaker, soaking through the fabric to stain his senses with a chilling sensation. He has already calmed every racing thought that ceases to ease his erratic heartbeat but no matter how hard he tries, there isn’t one second where he isn’t thinking about your well-being.

“Hey,” he calls out; when you turn around, he’s closing his umbrella and tossing it to the ground, leaving it to graze the tip of your shoes. “Take it and go home. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You roll your eyes before picking it up, mercilessly letting it flop right in front of him. “I don’t need it.”

Jisung clicks his tongue in irritation, not caring that droplets are falling from his head and his skin is crawling from the cold. Somehow, he’s starting to become baffled for no reason. Perhaps it’s because of your nonchalance about the current situation; you shouldn’t be so apathetic when he’s genuinely worried sick for your health.

His eyes are heavy with rain droplets so he blinks them away before glaring at you slightly. “You need it more than I do. Would you please stop acting irrationally, take the umbrella and head home? The rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.” His leg jerks up to kick at the innocent object; still isn’t enough to relish the turmoil hurling his innards.

He brushes past you, shoving your shoulder a little while expecting you to finally accept his offer. To his dismay, you once again grab at the poor, poor umbrella, and throw it at his leg with more force this time. When it drops to the ground with a small thud, his heart pauses awkwardly in disappointment. 

The sun is going down by the second but you can still see the faint outline of his scowl. “Go home, Jisung. It’s getting late,” you remark coldly, stuffing your freezing hands into your pocket. 

With a loud groan, he marches back to where you two were originally standing, a curse word lingers on the tip of his tongue. But he manages to swallow it back down before gently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. “Take the umbrella at least,” he voices softly, the crack more evident than anything at the end. “Look, I know I’ve been nothing but a nuisance since we first met. I just really like you and I care for you okay? Go home, Y/N.”

“Please.”

You look at him after moments, your once hateful eyes finally glinting with something else other than general distaste and annoyance. It only takes one glance of his tired eyes to pierce through your phlegmatic front, leaving your raw emotions out in the open. Before Jisung can say another word or take notice of the rare warmth creeping in your gaze, you take his hand in yours and pull him toward a nearby apartment complex to not wait out in the downpour any longer. By the time that you’ve released the grip, he’s still staring into the nothingness, eyes slightly wide in shock.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you gonna go home?” he blurts out finally after snapping out of it.

“This is my apartment complex. But I must have dropped my card somewhere. So I can’t go inside.”

A sigh. “Is anyone home right now?”

“My phone is dead.”

Jisung perks up and his hand fishes inside his pocket. “You can use-”

You inhale deeply, looking away. “Enough is enough, Jisung. Go home.”

“You broke my umbrella,” he mentions, blinking rapidly to bat the droplets away from his eyelashes. “I can’t go home like this.”

Few beats of silence later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a beige trench coat walks past the both of you, two high school students pathetically standing under the canopy like wet rats; she swipes her card against the security lock and the glass door pops open without much effort. Sparing you the last look, she’s probably thinking ‘kids these days’ before heading inside with a roll of her eyes. 

Jisung hurriedly skips over to hold the door open for you, motions for you to walk in with his head. To his surprise, you comply but bring your steps to a halt to situate yourself in front of him. His lashes are wet and heavy; that’s when you realize how soaked you both are and how terribly cold the temperature it’s getting. Your hand reaches out to brush the raindrops away softly, shaking his heart to the core. 

The silence is graceful in the wake of the moment, the rain in the background just makes everything that much more cinematic. However, Jisung isn’t in the right mind state to fanboy over the fact that his drama fantasy is one step closer to reality. He wishes to cling to this moment forever because he just can’t get enough. He can never.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you pull away calmly, thinking how cute he sort of looks when his cheeks are three shades redder. “And a new umbrella.” 

His smile has never been brighter, you notice. Even when he’s out in the brutal cold and completely drenched from head to toe. And wait...have his eyes always been so pretty?

[ironmandeficiency]

our love will (never) end

pairing: dogma / reader

word count: 3414

summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.

warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed

a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice

you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.

once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.

that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.

days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.

then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.

the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.

even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.

this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.

you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.

but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.

what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.

which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.

then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.

“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.

your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”

he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.

his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”

a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.

“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”

“of course, my love.”

when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.

it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.

“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”

“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”

dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.

“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.

you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.

“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”

“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”

the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.

the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.

information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.

there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.

pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.

he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.

most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.

that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.

but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.

“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”

“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”

“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”

“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”

“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”

“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”

fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.

then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”

did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.

“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”

logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.

“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”

disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”

what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.

“was he the one that killed krell?”

silence.

“fives! was he the one to-“

“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”

dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.

he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.

the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.

he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.

his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.

there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.

the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.

his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.

you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.

in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.

no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.

it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.

months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.

you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.

since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.

although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.

that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.

“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”

“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”

he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.

“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”

a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”

it took two weeks.

novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.

the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.

he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.