#still need to come up with a name for that version of serenity but good god would it be catastrophic

[seaofserene]

the thing is

serenity as she is... is relatively hhhharmless?

granted she still kills people

and is still very dangerous

but in terms of power level, compared to the main heroes, she's pretty easy to deal with (just don't fall for her tricks or slip up and let her gash you)

but god forbid she ever gain access to real power. it will go to her head SO FAST

[suusoh]

i wanna know what’s your theory on what happened to johan after the ending since it’s up to the audiences imagination yk?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING MY THOUGHTS ON THIS ANON! I give you kiss ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ I'm going to diverge more on headcanons of him in another post. These are just my nonsensical interpretations of Johan after monster.

(tw: talks of multiple suicide attempts (all failed though don't worry))

Another anon of mine sent another similar ask (will post said ask shortly as it dwelves more into the x reader aspects hehe) gave the description of post-monster/ post-rurenheim johan as "a juxtaposition to his regular omnipotent self" which is a 1000% perfect way on how I'd describe him post-monster/post-rurenheim.

I really do believe that although he still has a prowess for manipulation skills and psychology after monster, he wouldn't have as much charisma as before. Part of his godly charisma came from the fact that he himself has no identity so he can fine tune himself to anyone (presenting himself with such a pleasing expression and personality, his agreeability with some would come from his own lack of personall thoughts). But now that he's got his own individuality and a name, he wouldn't bother with being agreeable anymore, as it isn't as natural for him anymore.

It's kind of why he doesn't even bother keeping a soft smile anymore at the end of monster when he was confronting dr tenma. He's not trying to be approachable anymore, and instead opts to actually showing how he's feeling rn. Instead of just using a pleasant expression as a placeholder on his face. I mean just look at the stark difference:

All the trauma and stress has finally catched up to him and has even taken a PHYSICAL toll on his body as well. I haven't noticed it before as I thought it was just an art style, but you can can notice that over time after he uncovers his past since the library, his face actually starts growing eye bags

like he is TIRED. He cannot do this anymore, he's burnt out. Which is the number one characterization I would give him post-monster.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE when he is interpreted as still having that small serene smile on his face and living his life calmly after monster. I subscribe to that characterization and would write him like that too, especially if we're going to interpret it as it being second nature or muscle memory for him to have that politeness. —It's just another part of me loves the idea that him being slightly rude and unapproachable even. A part of his reclaiming of his own humanity, is him not keeping up appearances anymore. He doesn't need to keep up politeness and being friendly anymore.

Another thing I can see him doing for a while is actually being quite... listless? If that makes sense. Like he would just do a good solid nothing for a while. Walk around in parks and other places trying to take in the world around him again. Trying to grasp life after losing his inner monster/kinderheim programming/fucked up coping mechanism.

He might try bars now and other social gatherings to see the hype and try to feel something. But maybe it just makes him feel all the more alienated and detached from society. Imagine being surrounded by so much people but still feel so alone. He'd feel all the more disconnected from humanity.

--- talks of suicide start here ---

Kind of dark here but I think this might lead him to trying to attempt at ending his life again. He sees it so pointless now and his entire focal point has been shattered

He knows him and his sister aren't the same people anymore, he knows that he doesn't have to keep living his life as her shadow/half a person/the "worse" version of her. But man... after 20+ years of living like that it's really gonna hit once you realise that you can't do your sole life goal anymore...

His despair might come in the form of him genuinely not knowing how to live. Throughout monster it kinda felt like he was on autopilot, his own individuality and sense of self taking a backseat. So imagine out of nowhere the plane's crashing and you're suddenly put in the driver's seat all of a sudden when, you didn't even bother learning how to drive or fly this thing in the first place because 1.) You were convinced you didn't need to drive ever, you were forcefully stuffed in the plane's cargo by adults who traumatized you, 2.) You didn't even know you'd be flying this long.

(sorry for the plane analogy i'm just rambling my raw thoughts 💀 but yes man is lowkey crashing and burning)

If we're gonna put it in a smaller more related level, imagine your entire life you grew up trained to be like...like an archaeologist or something, like your childhood bedroom had archaeology stuff, you were raised to study archaeology and only archaeology, you excelled at it, you had the gear for archaeology, you're in college studying archaeology and even having a specific vision in your mind of you being an archaeologist....the only thoughts you grew up with is you and archaeology.

Only to find out from nowhere that you never actually were into archaeology. And that you liking archaeology (aka your hobby/interest, your entire IDENTITY) was conditioned and instilled into you by weird freaky scientists when you were a child. You find out that you actually had a personality BEFORE archaelogy, and now you're 20 and you've spent more than a decade of your life dedicated to archaeology only to find out that maybe this whole time archaeology isn't even a thing you liked in the first place.

yeah that's basically the library revelation. HAFHDJAH archaeology being his "monster".

And now you're wandering through life, that isn't about you being an archaeologist..... OF COURSE YOU'D FUCKING DESPAIR. What are you even supposed to do now????

But funnily enough, Naoki Urusawa says that monster is actually a dark comedy in his eyes (Lmaooo just as I thought. I was giggling watching monster), so in true shakespearean tragic-comedy fashion, Johan's attempt here might become a fail. Divine intervention if you will.

But worry not friends, as this suicide attempt of his was made when his monster was gone, where his coolness and emotional detachment are also gone. So I think him doing a suicide attempt post-monster might actually, in some miraculous roundabout way.... scare him a bit for the first time.

I think the scene/poem "The View from Halfway Down" from "Bojack Horseman" is the best way to describe how I see he'll start feeling things.

He'd wonder why his heart is beating suddenly and why a cold sweat is forming on his face and on his palms, and why his breathing is out of control. He's confused as hell as to why his adrenaline spiked up. He walked on the ledges of rooftops, the number of times he's had guns pointed at him is more than the fingers on his hands, he died twice for goodness sakes. So why?...why is he feeling this all of a sudden? he'd start to grow a bit frustrated because this doesn't. make. sense.

If we're still gonna go with the dark comedy route, we could write him as him trying and trying again to off himself💀i'm so sorry. I'm just rolling with Urusawa's vision here of him saying monster is a dark comedy. Each time Johan attempts with ending his life, it would just fail.

But if he got spooked off on his first suicide attempt post-monster, he'd probably stop after that one. Not because he wants to keep living, but because his stupid (incredible) brain chemicals keep making his body hesitate to off himself.

He'd be pissed at his own fear. I could see him actually almost tearing up in frustration at what's happening. He's never had to deal with shit like this before, he never hesitated, he never had to feel fear, hell— he didn't even have to LIVE before. He wasn't actually living during his time as "Johan Liebert". He didn't get the same agency to fully explore and navigate his own life in his own time like every other human being. He doesn't want to try. He just wants to end himself— and he can't even do that anymore. He's so frustrated, and pissed, and he's honestly just so... lost.

Buuuut! To quote Tom Hanks from "Castaway":

I was gonna die there, totally alone. I was gonna get sick, or get injured or something. The only choice I had, the only thing I could control was when, and how, and where it was going to happen. So... I made a rope and I went up to the summit, to hang myself. I had to test it, you know? Of course. You know me. And the weight of the log, snapped the limb of the tree, so I-I - , I couldn't even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *nothing*. And that's when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail."

He'd then sigh softly and shake his head...maybe let out a small sardonic laugh. Ah, how fate really does love to mess with him. Some higher being out there is really taking the piss with him, wasn't it? Because maybe.... just maybe. He kind of realises that Dr. Tenma and Nina were right.

I think this is the point where he'd kinda like.... cancel out nihilism WITH nihilism.

" I found everything pointless... until I realised even that was pointless" kinda vibe

Hope this satisfied your question anon! My thoughts are not organized here so pardon :)! Also please excuse if my tone in the more serious parts sounds a bit too light.

Thank you for reading and and asking me anon! ˘ ³ ˘ mwuah!!

[mysticalsoot]

you changed, it's good

A/N; soooo ive kinda been in a writing slump so take this fic thats been building dust in my docs- also tysm for 300!! hopefully ill come up w smth for it lol- I have no clue how to process that information omf

summary; months after wilbur's revival and his reunion with you and the daughter you share (that he didn't know about), you let out pent emotions and have a heartfelt talk with wilbur

tw// swearing, not lore accurate, im a wilbur apologist shush, children, suicidal mentions maybe? lmk if i missed anything

words; 1.8k

pairings; c!wilbur x gn!reader (they're parents), revivedbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none!

masterlist

—★—

The time since Wilbur’s death and revival may not have been that long, but for you, it felt like ages--you had a child now, his, yes but you’ve begun another life. A life with a little girl, a life without him. But now, he was here and he was trying. You appreciated it but god did you fear it too. The memories taunted you, the hurt and the aching that still lingered, haunted you. He haunted you.

Your head is rested upon Wilbur's chest, and the thumping of his heart echoes in your mind. His left arm wraps around your shoulder and your own arms around his middle. Your daughter, Willow lays against his other side, curled into a ball, and his other arm held tightly around her in comforting warmth. This moment is what you imagined life to be all those years, before everything…happened.

You seemed to always subconsciously wish for moments like these, at least, in the past few years. One’s where Willa has a parent other than yourself, someone else to hold her, and someone to hold you too. Domestic bliss, calm and serene. No wars or bombs, no screaming, and yelling. Simply the sound of your partner's heart and the sight of him holding your child. It's a reassurance of sorts, a silent "everything will be okay, even if it wasn't before". 

Things used to be so not okay that having this calmness is nice. Having his arms around you again is lovely, being able to kiss him and hold him, to watch him help raise your daughter, to play with her and hold her. Tickle her and carry her on his shoulders, hold her hand with his, and walk with her on the prime path. To teach her how to ride a horse, after bringing one home for her, and helping her name him.

"Wilbur?" You whisper to him, moving your head back, your gaze locked upwards on him. He looks down at you, a soft smile written on his features, and he tilts his head to the side.

"Yes, my love?" he leans down, leaving a soft kiss to your lips and you smile through it, the warmth in your stomach swelling the same way it did when you both were younger. You take a moment to admire him, the way his curls fall in his face, how his glasses are always crooked and now are no different, and how the small freckles he adorns sprinkle his cheeks. Everything about him is beautiful, and so it brings you back to what you wanted to say. What you need to say, what is right to say.

"What happened? After lmanburg? You were so…" Your mind goes blank for a word to properly describe it, without hurting him. Cruel, evil, manipulative, the list goes on. It's odd to you, how someone could become so horrible and then return to a better version of their old self in a matter of years. "Horrible, then. To everyone, to yourself."

His face falls, and so does your heart, falling to the deep pits of your stomach. You can feel the life drain from your face and it hurts. You feel an immense dread, and wonder if you hadn’t mentioned it, how you would feel. It's a difficult subject for him but at this point, you think it had to be brought up. How can one accept this happy domestic life without knowing the full truth?

"I got lost, I think. Lost in the greed I suppose." He pauses, dips his head down to press his forehead against yours. His eyes close and he takes a breath, his arm letting go of Willa and placing his hand on your cheek, fingers gently brushing the skin and his eyes hold a warm sadness to them, "I wanted the joy still, the happiness for our future. But it got pushed back. I was blinded. There's a lot I don't remember. I mean I remember pieces here and there. Bribes from dream, desperate attempts to make things work for everyone and everything."

"And then what? You realized hurting us was better?" You’re hostile now, something switching or rather, breaking in your heart. You know you shouldn't react this way, get defensive--but a piece of you is still painfully angry and hateful, filled to the brim with spite and it’s accidentally let through the cracks. You back up a moment, his touch leaving you, hand falling to his side, head still dipped down.

"I realized I couldn't make it perfect for everyone, there were sacrifices I had to make." He takes another deep breath, wraps his arms around Willow again, she doesn't move. "And I made the wrong ones, I know that. I see that." Wil looks down at the lump that his daughter forms, a little ball of a girl. She moves to grab onto his arm in her sleep and she hums, a soft smile adorns his lips.

You feel you should be satisfied with his answers, and half of you is, but you still wonder; "Why? Why did you do it?"

His gaze lets its grip off of Willow, walks up and he looks to you, pupils big and somber, bloodshot and wet. "To not hurt anyone anymore. It was for the best." 

You want to scream at him now, tell him how much of an idiot he is. Screams that are bloodcurdling, one’s that most definitely would wake up Willa and anyone surrounding the area. That no, killing yourself in fact does not stop the hurt, it only fuels it, like a spark to dead grass. He made Phil kill him, he made you watch as he destroyed his livelihood, your shared livelihood, watch as he's stabbed to death by his own goddamn father. It was never ending with him, it was always something new, something bigger, more painful than before. You want to storm away, back off, and not let him near you for a split second, it's all an overreaction, you tell yourself but you simply can't help it.

You stare at him for a moment, your expression blank and emotionless. Willow turns onto her back, eyes open slightly and her arms reach up to Wil. "Hey, daddy." She mumbles out, a smile of her own sculpted onto her features. Wil smiles back.

"Hello, my love. Are you ready for bed?" He asks, lifting her up by her sides and gently sitting her on his lap. She nods sluggishly, and she rests herself against him, chest to chest, head on shoulder, and tiny arms wrapped around his neck. "Let's get you into bed then, sweetie."

You just watch, your eyes follow him as he walks out of the living room, into the kitchen, and down the stairs. You sit there, alone now. Thoughts cycle through your mind. All the things you had wished for, every thought that graced your consciousness, every question unanswered for years. You missed him, you really truly did. But you aren’t sure who you missed more, and is the one you missed, the one you lie with at night? The one that wraps his arms around you in the morning, leaves a sloppy kiss on your cheek, and brushes the hair out of your face. The man that waits there, holding you, until Willow comes rushing in the room to ‘wake’ you both up. The same man that shushes you lovingly and says "Pretend you're asleep, love," the moment he hears her bedroom door open, so she can have the satisfaction of waking you both.

You now rest your head on the back of the couch, your gaze focused on the window on the opposite side of the room. Snow gently falls past it, frost taken over the glass. The fire crackles and warms you like a hug. 

What feels like moments later, even warmer arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to the body they're attached to. "Wil?" You call out, your voice coming out gravelly, and you realize you must've fallen asleep.

"Hey.." It comes out weak, the word feels broken and sounds broken. "I'm sorry, for all the shitty things I've done. I know my reasoning isn't nor has it ever been valid. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere, and I don't have any plans of mass terrorism." His voice becomes clearer, breaks up less and he dips his head down again, pressing his cheek against yours. You nearly open your eyes, but keep them closed, and revel in the feeling of him more. 

"I know." You pause, and let your own arms wrap around him, but instead of his middle like he has you held--you wrap your arms around his neck, your hands weaving into his mop of curls. "I think part of me still hurts, it's stupid I guess." You rest your head on his shoulder, and he pulls you closer, your legs now wrapped around him too.

"It's not, I hurt you. I take accountability for that and I hate that I even did it in the first place." His voice cracks again, and you know he means it. You pull back, your hands pressed against his cheeks and he looks up at you.

You hesitate, mulling over the words falling off his lips, his expression knotted in anxiety. Your thumbs run over his pink-tinted cheeks and you kiss his forehead.

"If you were that same person, you wouldn't say that." You take a breath, "I think you've changed. In a good way."

He sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around you. "I hope I have."

“I know you have,” You pause, grasping his face in your hands and getting him to pull back simply so he can gaze at you.

“How?” His voice is merely a croaked-out mumble but it’s enough that you hear it loud and clear.

“Would you be here, in my arms, after putting our daughter to bed if you hadn't changed?" You paused, eyes gazing deeply into his and searching for any doubt to crush with your words, "Would you even search for us if you were that same man? For good, not to hurt us."

He shakes his head, "I changed, didn't I?"

"In the best way possible." A soft kiss placed on his lips, one of love and devotion. A simple peck speaking every word and emotion you've ever felt--but only the good.

He smiles against the kiss, grasping at your sides and pulling you closer and closer to him. You were already so close, practically one, but he felt the need to pull you so much closer that not only were your bodies one, but so were your souls.

He pulls away from the kiss, hands resting on your face, "I love you," he nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle, twisting your fingers into the curls on the back of his head, "so much." The last bit is whispered, like a quiet promise. A promise of devotion and loyalty. Something you're glad to finally have. 

There's nothing in the way of him being with you. With your daughter.

"I love you more," You smile to him softly, a kiss placed on his forehead, and you push stray curls out of his face as he nuzzles his head against your chest.

taglist; @ella-fella-bo-bella @lillylvjy @sleepyburs @lotusanonymouse @lcvejoy

[not-goldy]

Hello I'm not quoting blog name here but what do you think about this ? Your real opinion about Jimin and Jungkook.

the thing is i dont think jikook are actually together. i think they have feelings for each other and on some level they both know it and i think they play it up in front of the camera because it feels safer in some twisted way-- they can write it off as fanservice. theyre obviously the closest in the group but besides a few drunken... not kisses but charged moments (the hickey hello), i dont think theyve done anything. i think they are acutely aware of the eyes on them and the line they cannot cross, and i think they toe it more often than they probably should. i think they date other people. i think as their outside relationships ebb and flow so does the bond between them, i think there is jealousy, i think there is confusion about what will happen between them. i think theyre both very aware of their status as celebrities and that they will simultaneously be wholeheartedly accepted and carelessly shunned, i think nothing will happen until after their military service, i think, realistically, nothing will happen until after DISBANDMENT, when they try to stay away from each other, bitter, and realize they can't

I think it's beautifully written.

It's the most serene form of adultification of Jikook I've seen so far. Don't get me wrong. Jikook are adults, yes. But they've not always been adults.

But I mean, I would come to the same conclusion too if I was looking at jikook in media res. It's very easy to look at them as they are now and think - for lack of a better word- highly of them because they look like two professionals and two self respecting adults who have control over their charged "chemistry" on screen.

But I'm afraid that's not jikook.

I met jikook as teens and have had the privilege of watching them literally grow to become the jikook we see on screen today.

"They are very aware of their status as celebrities"

Uhmmm celebrities where?? Here? I think da fuck not

I don't even think it's clocked for some of them that they are celebrities and some of them are still getting used to the fact they are.

You know there was a time they would stroll into airports and nobody cared? Shocking I know. They took to the streets to sell their own tickets and would keep asking strangers, "do you know BTS"

Back in their own home country not many people even knew who they were.

And you have to understand this fact about them on order to appreciate the gravity of their success. They are a spectacle and such a global phenomenon partly because of their poor to riches story. Let's not belittle that for literary symmetry.

Bts hasn't always been this big huge stars of world dominating proportions. Believe it or not.

That gaze we think shapes their every conduct now hasn't always been there. No one was checking for them like that and like they themselves said some of them even nearly quit because they didn't know they would become this huge.

In the Fandom we talk about Namjoon constantly keeping them in check and reminding them people are watching- mind you these are media trained idols we talking about and yet how many times have we had to clear searches for their blunder? How many times have they had to issue an apology for the song lyrics or comments they've made.

They are constantly reminding eachother of the gaze

BTS came from somewhere. Whatever platform they are on they built it from the ground up. As good intentioned as we are in our analysis of them, we shouldn't take that away from them.

They've been in the mud and they've got some dirt on them and they've done things when they thought no one was watching. But that's part of their journey. You don't need to bend over backwards and clean them up to make them look presentable. Which is what I feel OP is doing here. A cleaned up version of jikook.

Op talks about a few drunken moments- was this before or after Jungkook was legally allowed to drink alcohol? Or is she just superimposing adult jikook on all stages of Jikook's journey? See what I mean?

BTS have talked about struggling with teenage hormones, about struggling with lust and love, watching porn, popping off, girls, boys, dating, attraction, gender expression, struggling with their identity- those are very valid lived experiences we cannot take away from them.

We cannot for instance take away from the fact they shared a bed while naked, the fact they sneaked into each other's hotel rooms and was caught on camera, nor take away from them the feeling of attraction or the fact they love each other.

And while Anon likes to think so highly of them as to believe they could be in such close proximity, as human as they were, as young as they were, as hormonal as they were, willing to experiment and take risks, that they could restrain themselves because of a career they had no idea they would have or because of a large audience that didn't exist at the time, I have no such compunction. Jikook fucked eachother. They were young, and wild and horny and they fucked eachother. It's very simple.

One plus one is two for me. I don't have to rack my brians or sugarcoat it.

"Nothing will happen until after disbandment."

Why do people make sex out to be such a big deal😭

IT'S JUST SEX.

Okay scratch that, it's not just sex for them because it's also about having their needs met, it's about the companionship, self discovery and exploration. People think being an idol is easy. It gets lonely and often times depressing and these people develop all kinds of coping mechanisms and to me jikook found each other to cope too.

We cannot have a conversation around Tae Tae's struggles and depression, Jimin's complaints of loneliness, Namjoon and Suga's you know what, Jin's depresion and abyss while also not considering what they'd done or what they would have needed to do to cope. Especially when we read that other idols were and are advised to date, do therapy, smoke, do drugs, fuck around- albeit discreetly as a cooping mechanism for these struggles.

They can give each other hickies and rat each other out in public for said hickies, touch their dicks and spank each other's ass, they can play kiss kiss with each other as part of games, and tell each other they like to be tied up, but God forbid they actually kiss.

And gaze or not, there men have lived their lives and gathered experiences. Not all facet of their lives are controlled by our gaze. They out there living their lives I promise you that. They all fucking those they want to fuck, taking substances they wanna take, drinking whatever the fuck they want to drink.

Our opinion of them isn't stopping them from living their lives. That's my opinion and my belief. Just because I say they not screwing no body don't change a thing for them.

And if jikook ain't fucking, really their loss 💀

I wouldn't mind fucking jimin for Kook. Imma blow his back the fuck out. Every block boy need a little love💕

Put it down and imma pick it up purr

These mofos are out here thirst trapping eachother thrusting their hips in sexual aggression and belting in high key notes over sex and here we are thinking they are too decent to the blowing it up each other's ass.

And to think they both been acting dickmatized all these years because they aren't screwing??? Huh???

Yall do too much I swear

Look, this is a bell

This is Jimin ringing said bell

This is Jungkook when he heard Jimins bell

And this is Jikook ring ranging the bell together

Jikook are fucking eachother. They can't unring that bell and no one can convince me otherwise. I just don't trust that with all the sexual tensions and all the alone time they spend together that all they do when they are alone is read scriptures.

Nope. Nah uh

But hey, to each their own.

[dawnslight-aegis]

6. halcyon

Estinien sat on the edge of a bluff overlooking the ruins of a town, blackened timber poking out of snowdrifts, perfectly desolate and serene. He had been back here before, but not for years, and never with company.

The small, dark-haired xaela next to him pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them, arms loosely wrapped around her legs as she looked down. “This is it, then? Ferndale?”

“Aye. Or what’s left of it, at least.”

The ruin bore no resemblance to the home of his childhood, devoid of the rolling green hills where he’d wandered with his family’s flock, the ponds frozen solid, no scent of braised mutton on the wind. What Nidhogg had not taken, the Calamity had, and left naught but his own fading memories behind.

Without preamble, he raised a hand, pointing out landmarks. “There, and farther to the east, were the grazing fields. ‘Twas not so damnably cold then, but grass was still sparse, so we had to range far, even with the small handful of karakul we had. My father took me with him until I had seen seven summers, and after that, it was my duty alone. There is the river where we fished on warm summer days, and the pond in which I learned to swim. The market where my mother sold the clothes she made from the wool we sheared in the springtime, and the spare milk from our goats. The church, where we gathered on Iceday mornings, to hear the teachings of the Fury and learn our letters.” He let his hand fall, sighing. “I was far afield the day Nidhogg came, and did not arrive until he had gone.”

Weight settled against his arm as Marz leaned into him, a comforting reminder that he was not alone. He knew he need not explain what came after, not to her, who had seen his past through his own eyes. Who had lived through her own version of that hell, though her tormentors were garlean, not dravanian.

“What were your parents like?” she asked, her voice uncommonly quiet and gentle.

Estinien felt his mouth twitch into what might have been a small smile. “My mother was kind. She was a weaver, and a seamstress, and a damned good cook. She helped us make ends meet by doing whatever needed doing in the village – mending clothes, washing them, birthing lambs… I believed she could do anything, when I was young. And my father was… Gruff. Distant. Not given to idle chit chat.”

A snort shook through her whole body. “Sounds familiar.”

He grunted noncommitally in response, and she snickered at him so neatly proving her point.

They both lapsed into silence for a while, looking out over the landscape, until Marz spoke again. “What about your brother?”

Estinien’s jaw clenched and he breathed out slowly through his nose, riding the wave of grief that the mere mention caused, until he had steadied enough to speak again. For so much of his life, he had refused to speak of him at all – but this entire trip was meant to make it so someone else would know that his family had lived, so that when he died in battle, they would live on. He would not deny his brother that.

“Hamignant was… nothing like me. Quiet. Kind. Well-mannered. He misliked violence, even when it was necessary. He named every lamb, no matter if it was destined for the market, or the flock, or the cookpot. Read every book he could get his hands on. My mother wanted to send him to Ishgard someday, to the Scholasticate. He told me he wanted to join the priesthood, so he could come back to Ferndale and teach other children, more than one day a sennight.” Once he started, the words came tumbling out in an awkward rush, heedless of if he meant to speak them or not. Only narrowly did he bite back the words that would have followed – that it would have been better if Estinien himself had perished in Nidhogg’s flames, if it meant his little brother might have lived in his stead.

Such black thoughts spoken aloud would only serve to sour both their moods. Not that it was particularly good to begin with, but…

“Did you know that one time, my brother convinced me that one of our clan elders was a wavekin? He was so old, thin and bony and covered in scales, so that barely any skin could be seen. I believed him for two whole years. My mama was so angry when she found out, but my papa thought it was hysterical. He was always playing pranks on me, always acting as if I was so annoying, but he’d stop and help me with anything I asked. Taught me to dance, and how to braid my hair, so he wouldn’t have to anymore.” Bright green eyes blinked up at him, and her fingers laced through his. “I know what it’s like to have a good big brother. And I’m sure you were one.”

A reluctant smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. “One time, Hami wanted to pick flowers for our mother. I thought myself too old for such things, so I spent the day lazing about, not minding what he was doing. That night, there was mysteriously a frog in my parents’ bed – they thought I did it. I ended up taking the blame for him, and he felt so bad that he snuck me extra sweets for days after.” Estinien sighed, but the weight in his chest – everpresent, even after so many years – felt a little easier to bear. “I have not thought of that in ages. I could not respond to the happy memories with anger, and I had no wish to fall to grief, so I simply… did not think of them. I have done my family a disservice in this, I think.”

Marz shook her head. “No one can judge you for what you have done to survive. And living is always harder than the alternative, isn’t it?”

“Aye. It is. But it is worth it, I think.”

He had not always. Had long counted his life as simply a delayed death, determined to take as many enemies with him as he could before he finally succumbed to the fate that should have awaited him that day in Ferndale. That man had died on the Steps of Faith – and given a second chance at life, he had taken it, even though he knew not what to do with it. Still did not, at times.

All he had known was that he wanted it, and Marzanna had been, alongside Alphinaud, the one to give it to him. It seemed only right he share it with her, past and present alike.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Oddtober the Thirteenth" Episode Followup, Part 1

LOOKIT HOW THEY MASSACRED M' BOI. LOOKIT HOW THEY MASSACRED 'IM. BARELY RECOGNIZABLE, THE LIL' SQUIRT.

Well...for those who have been in the fandom for a long time, we still have the memories. For those who haven't, I am so sorry. From the bottom of my heart.

Below the break for what I can only hope is an episode that delivers the same quality as "The Odd Ness Monster" before it, but probably won't.

I was going to make a genuine and honest comment about these two roleplaying as villains, but lemme set that aside for now to groan at who's writing this.

At this point, the only thing I'm in for is the obligatory sleeping agent. It's really the only way the man gets help with his taxes every year.

Now on to the roleplaying: this is, uh...huh. It's one thing to roleplay horror movie characters, but it's another to roleplay as criminals, even if they're harmless. Worse still is that these...at least appear to be Odd Squad agents, unless they're random kids from the street that wandered in here and started chasing each other. Do you really want two members of your employment body roleplaying as criminals?

...Changing my point. They prefer it so much that they include it IN AN ORGANIZATION-WIDE FUCKING HOLIDAY.

To be fair, Oddtober, in the meta sense, did include the premiere of "Undercover Olive", which had Olive dressing up as a villain. But at least there, it made more sense because it was part of a dangerous mission, and it allowed her to play off of Odd Todd as a bonus. Here, it's played for shits and giggles and can be replaced with any other festive event. There's not much sense to it.

So to put it bluntly: it's an ugly desecration of a beautifully-crafted episode.

"Because oddness is what brings us together!"

Well, yes, but also no. You two are on opposite sides of the spectrum. You want world peace. Villains want world domination, or at the very least, town domination.

"End of the Road" is a good example of this. The statement is posed of, "If the villains' powers are gone, then there's nothing for Odd Squad to do." Cue the rising of an avian alien creature from out of the water, which shows that, even if villains are gone, Odd Squad still has a job in protecting and subduing odd creatures.

Orli's specifically speaking of oddness fueled by villains, though. Odd Squad strives for normalcy, not for oddness. Combine that with the fact that villains are essentially criminals, and her comment doesn't exactly hold much weight. "Villains In Need Are Villains Indeed" brought a sense of mutuality between villains and agents, but it didn't exactly stick. Here, it seems like that would become the norm if the episode aired today.

Case in point: this is a flawed comment in a flawed episode in a very flawed season.

Ohhh...a time loop. Because we had that once before AND IT'S NOT FUNNY NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU REPEAT IT.

Some jokes are a one-and-done thing, Omar.

Oh sure, you can dress up as a criminal. Bring one into your place of work, though, and it's a whole 'nother ball game. One that goes on Extra Hard Mode.

One villain...to represent all villains?

WEEEEEEEELL FUNNY I MENTIONED "END OF THE ROAD" THEN HUH. Would have been perfect for The Shadow!

Yeah...yeah...Orli is absolutely in the right here. You know how much oddness could be caused in a day? How many lives would be lost?

And that's how you know this holiday is hella stupid.

(On top of that, I'm realizing this is just a more stupid version of "The Perfect Lunch", And at least that episode provided us with a sprinkle of lore and loads of funny bits.)

Parched Pact sounds more like an MLP name than an Odd Squad name. (Editing note: Revoking this comment because it's Pat, not Pact.)

We also have another villain who specializes in dryness in the form of Dr. Dry, and really, if he can be in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, he can come to the UK and join Goopy Gus in the Forced Old Villain References Club. I'll still scream about it, but at least it'll make sense.

See, when Oprah does it, it's charming.

When Captain O does it, it lacks bite.

If even the chef has the shared "popping up out of nowhere" ability, then you know there's something up.

(On a side note: toast. What the writers' obsession is with Season 2 gags, I will never know.)

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to enter HQ, right? Walked right into that jubilee, same as us, and that villain over there."

Genuinely shocked how audible this whisper of "he's here" is. Normally it would just be incomprehensible and implied.

*slaps on the English hypercorrection glasses*

If you're addressing Orli and Ozzie by name, there is absolutely no need to use the catch-all term of "agents". You failed the test, Omar. See me after class.

Is...hold on, who's that kid dressed up as on the left? It's not one of the Terrible Three, surely?

Closest I can guess is maybe Villain X from "Agent Overhill's Day Off", and if that's actually correct, this is especially insulting because that episode isn't even part of this batch like it should be. It's foreshadowing, but it's insulting foreshadowing.

See, one of the things that's so flawed about this is that the dude could just as easily lie. He can eat the plain food and say he hates it when he actually likes it, for example. No one's stopping him. There's no lie detector. He's a villain. He cheats and he lies. 'S kinda what he does.

And he doesn't even have to eat, or enjoy himself, or like the gifts. He can declare he hates everything off the bat and take the W. There are no terms and conditions.

*claps four times* THAT'S IT!!! THAT'S IT. THAT'S THE BITCH.

Pure cartoony villain, right here. At least if the episode's going down, we still got the cartoony hammy villain.

Oh. Bro got a plus one.

I mean let's be honest, they should have prepared for that.

Huh. Apparently Pact- er, sorry, Pat was keeping Square Squire (the finest student of Professor Square's class, thank you) in his hammerspace spine. And the dude is taller than him.

Still not any more impressive than Lady Bread holding the Form-Changer up by brute strength, though.

Never have I wanted to give an Odd Squad character an advanced lobotomy more than THIS FUCKING GIRL RIGHT HERE, Jesus Christ. There's fun stupid like Olaf and Ohlm, and then there's just bland stupid.

Also, is...is that a Brand X Coca-Cola pillow she has there or am I tripping? Is Coca-Cola canon in the Oddverse? Is there air?! You don't know!

I take back my earlier comment. This is "It Takes Goo to Make a Feud Go Right", UK edition. Now with 100% less obvious innuendos!

(I do appreciate Orli's only reaction is to give a nervous gulp, though.)

Because if it's too cold for you to go into the pool, get on the kitchen table and get swimmin'!

Only thing he's missing is an Oculus Rift.

Oh, this is a rip rip. Like three goddamn quarters of a rip.

Omar, what the fuck are you doing, bro? I can watch the show, I can do rewrites, but I'm not copying plots straight from past episodes. It's sad that they have a whole world to explore across 10 years and resort to reusing plots like this.

...Now kiss.

*begins doing a Mr. Krabs walk straight through the gates of hell*

I'm sorry, I keep replaying this, I keep hearing "Waterless Wilf", and my mind goes to "Water I'd Like to Fuck." Which is inappropriate, biologically impossible, and a sin against the planet.

...Look, I said I was sorry. Bite me.

Look at that bitch in the background.

She knows.

She feels no remorse.

She set this shit up.

She knows.

Fluorescent...Florie?

I- are you all fuckin' high? Were you people fuckin' high when making up these villain names? At least Parched Pat and Square Squire somewhat made sense. This is just "hehe alliteration funy" and that's it!

Ozzie's getting close to an Olivepalm, and that's how you know you dun fucked up.

I...don't know what the fuck Orli's doing, but that ain't it.

Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a piece of dry toast in my eye.

Or else someone's gonna die.

The man's got as many delusions of vacational grandeur as Obfusco.

The only difference is that Obfusco could reasonably accomplish a world trip in the span of a short time.

(On to Part 2!)

[burnouts3s3]

Kannazuki no Miko Fanfiction: Confession

The large, majestic tree loomed at the center, its leaves still green and surrounding it were roses of all colors: red, white, blue and even yellow. In this secret garden, the youngest daughter of the esteemed Himemiya clan, Chikane, stood in her school burgundy uniform and had her eyes closed in concentration, while the sun beamed gently down and green leaves drifted to the grass.

On the surface, Chikane Himemiya appeared as the ideal version of grace, poise, serenity and beauty. The daughter of the esteemed Himemiya clan, the student prodigy excelled at sports and academics. Whether as the captain of the archery club, student body representative, tennis star, horseback riding, ikebana arrangement, tea ceremonies or whatever prestigious activity, Chikane was everyone’s ideal woman. 

Internally, Chikane was a bundle of raw nerves, each negative emotion waiting to break out. For 15 years, Chikane wanted for nothing; being born into a wealthy family, she was spoiled rotten, only she managed to come out as a polite and soft-spoken young woman, the ideal wife for any person. While Chikane was flattered by the hundreds of love confessions she received, she never reciprocated any of them. Those suitors just weren’t her type.

That was, until, a vision of beauty named Himeko Kurusugawa entered her world. The shy wallflower managed to do what children of billionaires, CEOs and Student Council Presidents couldn’t accomplish: Himeko stole Chikane’s heart and the blue haired billionaire fell head over heels for the blonde. At first, Chikane dismissed these new feelings as curiosity and interest. She merely thought of Himeko as a good friend, her first actual friend she could speak casually with. Chikane usually had to put on a face of serenity and poise whenever she spoke with her fellow students or the faculty staff.

But as Chikane grew closer and closer to Himeko, the blue haired girl began to realize that there was something more than just friendship between the two girls. 

Everything changed when Himeko’s childhood friend, Souma Oogami, asked her out. Chikane did know Souma beforehand; the two were the top students at school and even competed against one another in tennis. But Chikane never realized that Souma was infatuated with Himeko. An on campus rumor spread that Souma and Chikane were dating, something both students dismissed immediately. In fact, Himeko hesitated to date Souma because of those rumors. It was only with Chikane’s help that Himeko managed to get some alone time with Souma. Thanks to Chikane’s influence (as well as lending Himeko some choice dresses from the Chikane Himemiya closet), she helped Himeko and Souma get closer.

After prolonged absences, Chikane realized her feelings towards Himeko weren’t merely platonic but romantic. Chikane wanted to kiss Himeko, hold her close and smell her sweet hair. She wanted to flirt, whisper in Himeko’s ear and pepper the blonde with kisses. And she wanted… indecent and dirty things she never felt before. 

When Chikane witnessed Souma and Himeko kissing each other, the Himemiya daughter fell into a despair that caused her to skip meals and cry herself to sleep. When Souma and Himeko announced they had broken up, Chikane felt a shameful glee; on the one hand, her crush was no longer in a relationship, but she realized she wanted the blonde all to herself.

Time was running out; graduation was soon approaching, and the 17 year old billionaire had to decide whether or not HImeko would stay in her life or part ways or merely be friends. Things such as college admissions and business school (something Chikane’s parents decided for their daughter when she was a toddler) would eventually put a wedge between her and Himeko and Chikane needed to know if these feelings that kept her up at night would be permanent. A part of Chikane, a small part mind you, hoped that Himeko would not only accept her feelings but return them, but Chikane doubted the innocent Himeko Kurusugawa would want such impure things. 

Chikane did know of same-sex relationships and saw some of them at Ototachibana Academy, but such things were dismissed as childish feelings or passions of youth; they were distractions before moving on and marrying a suitable spouse from a prestigious family. When Chikane realized that those feelings were towards another woman, she feared how Himeko would respond? Did Himeko find those types of relationships disgusting or would she be open to them? 

“I can’t keep lying to Himeko like this. I will tell her today, even if she rejects me, even if she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore and even if she hates me.”

It was funny: Chikane had no problems playing piano in front of thousands of strangers, playing tennis broadcasted in worldwide television networks or speaking to the most esteemed alumni as student council president. But when confessing her love to Himeko, Chikane was little more than a frightened child, on the verge of breaking down into tears. 

Chikane heard the familiar rustling of the bush, indicating Himeko’s entrance. When she saw those familiar amethyst eyes and blonde hair reaching to Himeko’s hips, Chikane’s heart skipped a beat. 

“You wanted to see me, Chikane-chan?” Himeko stood up and patted off the stray leaves from her burgundy red uniform. 

The moment of truth had arrived.

Chikane took a deep breath and sighed. Now or never. 

“Himeko, remember last month when Oogami asked you out and you started dating him?” She began

“Oh yeah,” Himeko smiled. “Sorry about troubling you for clothes and advice. I felt bad for the effort you put in when Souma-kun and I broke up two weeks later. This isn���t about that dress you leant me, is it? If I tore it, I’ll be more than happy to-“

“It’s not about the dress, Himeko,” Chikane shook her head. “The fact was, I was… happy when you two broke up, because the truth was, I was jealous of your relationship.”

Himeko paused after hearing this. 

“I thought you said those rumors about you and Souma-kun dating weren’t true?” Himeko asked, not quite grasping what Chikane meant.

“I wasn’t jealous of you, Himeko. I was jealous of him.”

Another pause.

“I don’t understand,” Himeko replied. “Why would you be jealous of Souma-kun?”

Chikane was at the point of no going back. She told the truth.

“I love you, Himeko,” Chikane could scarcely believe she managed to speak the words out. “Not as a sister or a close friend but as someone who wants to be your girlfriend. I want to do things with you but I don’t know if you want what I want.”

Chikane convinced herself that brief moment of silence lasted several lifetimes and the sun stood perfectly still.

When Himeko finally spoke up, Chikane braced herself for the worst.

“Chikane-chan, if this is a joke, it’s not very funny,” Himeko said, her smile disappearing into a neutral face.

A joke? This was her chance. She could really just play off the entire confession as a joke by saying the simple words. Gotcha and Himiko would dismiss it right away. She kinda would spare herself the awful feeling of being rejected and they could sour whatever was left at their friendship. However, the billionaire did not want to do that. She wanted an answer, whether it hurt or not.

“I know these feelings are wrong and shameful and you have every right to be disgusted by me and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, time out!” Himeko put her hands up. “I don’t think your feelings are wrong or shameful. Wow, you are serious.”

“It’s okay, Himeko,” Chikane sighed. “You don’t have to spare my feelings over kindness.”

“Chikane-chan,” Himeko looked Chikane straight in the eye.”You’re an amazing person, and not just because you’re rich and pretty. Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. You are rich and pretty, but, let me start over. You’re also smart, talented, funny, and you’re so kind to me. Anyone, boy or girl, would be happy to have you as a girlfriend. You receive love confessions from all sorts of wonderful people. Chikane-chan, everyone loves you. How do you know that… that I’m the other half of your shell?”

Chikane couldn’t help but smile; Himeko remembered that story Chikane told her on the beach. 

“Because everyone else loves Miya-sama, but you’re the only one to love Chikane-chan,” she smiled.

How did these bottled up emotions spill out so easily? Chikane swore never to reveal them.

“I sometimes thought you were the other half of my shell,” Himeko started. “But you shouldn’t have to settle –“ 

“I’m not settling!” Chikane interrupted. “Himeko, you’re so kind and sweet and gentle. That day when you came chasing after that puppy I fell for you. I wanted to get to know you. As I became closer and closer as your friend, I didn’t realize I had fallen in love with you.”

“If anything, I was afraid you were settling with me,” Chikane said, taking Himeko by the shoulders. “Oogami is a great person and he was lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

Chikane spoke the truth; as much as she hated to admit it, Souma Oogami was a good and righteous man who protected and guarded Himeko with his life. Souma was the only other person who saw Himeko for the precious angel that she was while everyone else ignored the blonde and would have taken care of her. When Himeko told Chikane that Souma would remain Himeko’s friend after their break-up, Chikane was relieved to hear that. 

“I do love Souma-kun but I love him as if he were my brother,” Himeko said, cupping Chikane’s face. “It’s you I really love.”

What’s this really happening? Did her wildest dreams come true? Did her crush, her best friend, and her close confidant finally accept her romantic feelings? Chikane had to be sure. Taking out her right hand, she pinched herself in the cheek.

“Ow!” Chikane winced.

“What are you doing, Chikane-chan?” Himeko asked.

“Pinching myself,” Chikane said. “It just… feels too good to be true!”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?” Himeko said, taking Chikane’s hands into her own. “When I went out with Souma-kun…”

Chikane never imagined that Himeko would blame herself for dating Souma. If anything, Chikane would have been more to blame; she pushed HImeko towards Souma in the first place, thinking he would be her perfect match. 

“You did nothing wrong, Himeko,” Chikane shook her head. “I was the coward who couldn’t admit her feelings.”

“I made you cry, didn’t I?” Himeko said. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

“You didn’t know,” Chikane shook her head. 

“Then, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” Himeko smiled.

Chikane never expected Himeko to freely and readily accept her feelings. Chikane felt the widest smile plastered across her own face and her vision blurred with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Chikane-chan, what’s wrong?” Himeko gasped. “Did I say something that hurt you again?”

“I’m just so happy, Himeko.” Chikane tried to wipe her tears away. “I told myself so many times that I was okay with being just your friend.”

“We can be more than that, Chikane-chan,” Himeko replied, doing her part to wipe those tears away. “We can go on dates, buy presents for each other on Valentine’s Day and become closer.”

“I just feel so foolish, now,” Chikane sniffled, “All this time we could have been dating.”

“You’re just so kind because you didn’t want me to hate you,” Himeko nodded. “We can start dating right now.”

“I’m not sure where we can go on a date, considering lunch is almost over,“ Chikane said, feeling stupid. If she had timed this better, the two could go somewhere else.

“Well… there is… one thing we could do…” Himeko’s blushing cheeks and amethyst eyes turning away told Chikane what she was referring to.

Kissing. The two of them could, right here and now, kiss. Chikane dreamed of this moment but was it actually happening? Could she do such a thing? Chikane turned to face Himeko and asked point blank.

“May I kiss you?” Chikane asked.

Himeko stood on her toes and kissed Chikane. Those blue eyes shot wide open as she registered what was happening and pulled Himeko into a tight hug. Himeko’s lips tasted sweeter than honey and felt softer than cotton. Chikane’s cheeks flushed with blood and the heat radiated towards Himeko. When she felt Himeko’s mouth open, Chikane took a chance and used her tongue to explore the inside of Himeko’s mouth. Was this a dream? Did Chikane die and go to Heaven? Was she really kissing pure, sweet, innocent Himeko Kurusugawa?

Eventually, the girls had to part away for air, both of them gasping and wiping the sweat from their foreheads. 

“Wow…” Himeko panted between breaths. “Tongue.”

“I’m sorry,” Chikane panted. “Do you not like that?”

“No, I like it a lot!” Himeko smiled, her face resembling the color of a tomato. “May I have some more?”

Chikane smiled, feeling her natural poise and composure return to her.

“Well, since you asked so politely, Kurusugawa-san…”

As the lunch bell rang, indicating the students to return to their respective classes, Chikane Himemiya and Himeko Kurusugawa continued to kiss and hold each other, not caring how late for class they both were.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hi! I saw that you provide channelled messages. If it’s okay, may I receive a channelled message from my soulmate/future spouse? Also, is it okay to know a few things about him (I identify as female) and our connection? Thank you so much! Expressing gratitude! 💐

Thank you for sharing gender because that helps so much, because I don’t want to assume how people identify etc. so many readings I just kept non gendered for that reason. So anyway, appreciate that. Also I saw your other ask come through and will delete it once I post. I could tell by the emojis! It’s taken me a bit to get the vibe for this one.

💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐 💐

Channeled Love Letter

Hello Darling, (cheeky energy, very teasing and playful)

Did you miss me? Of course you do! Not nearly as much as I miss you. What I’ve been up to? More of the same. It’s a hell of a life here, hmmm? I think so. It feels so chaotic and up and down and in and out but the longer I’m here, the more I feel I’m getting the hang of it. If you can’t tell, we don’t come here too much, well I don’t. Earth is not my forte but I guess that’s the fun. I have a feeling you’re better at this than me. I haven’t really figured out all the stuff I’m supposed to.

I’m more of a drifter, a vagabond, (always on the run—Lenny kravitz) But I’ve seen so much, learned myself, learned the planet. I’m starting to think maybe it’s for the best I’m not like everyone else. I know people see me as a waste, as if I’ve wasted a perfectly good mind and body. They just don’t understand me. They can’t see how advanced I really am. One day, all this life is gonna make me the master (I actually see them as like a life coach, or guru or spiritual leader of some sort, I also get vibes they’ve been houseless before and have lived on the streets— but they chose this to learn)

I know this is probably not what you wanted to hear, but we’re meant to love people as they are, not the character they play. I’ll be more stable when we meet, but for now, I’m still growing and going through all I need to for my mission here. You don’t have to get it, but I hope you do. I hope you see me past societal lenses. I hope you understand (I hope you understand— Del Gap Band). Loving me is not how you’ll expect but it’s good for you. I’ll take you to understandings and places you’d have never gone. That’s part of the beauty that draws you to me, all the things I’ve learned and seen. (Very sage, but they are still being developed)

Trust the timing and the process, I’ll come when it’s best. I love you. I send you thoughts of peace with every sunrise and sunset I see. I hope you feel it. I just want you to feel serene. First thought and last thought of the day. Always. Love yourself like I love you. Keep finding the courage to make it through and say yes when the new comes knocking.

Love you honey! (Benjamin? Hawking, Howard? Laughlin, Lachlan? Some of these names may connect? Not sure how exactly. )

Card Pull— Goddess Guidance

What goddess can you draw strength from at this time?

Rhiannon— sorceress “you are a magical person who can manifest your clear intentions into reality”

This card is telling me you are stronger and more gifted than you know. You need to trust your instincts more because they are connecting with your magic. You need to get clear on what you really want and one way to do that is to clear out things that no longer serve you. Release them, old beliefs, clothes, dreams, etc. Stop looking at yourself as a version of yourself from years ago. Who are you now? Who are you becoming? You can create yourself into whomever you want to be. Set your intention on that.

What goddess does your person see you as?

Isis— past life “the situation involves your past life memories”

To me this confirms that you and your person know each other from a past life and that they will be aware of that when you meet. You may even have memories flashback or they may. This could be alarming but doesn’t have to be.

Look more into the goddess Isis. She is a very powerful Egyptian goddess and learning more about her mythology and her gifts could help you unlock your own! Really hoping this helps. Would love to know how it resonates. Appreciate your patience :)

[elysianslove]

ay yo? lmao haiiiii any chance we can get some haikyuu boys and nicknames they'd call their s/o? a lil deprived of kageyama, so if possible can you pls include him?? i hope you're doing well :)

omg wait i remember seeing this in my inbox and planning on answering it but i ,,, i forgot :( im sorry :( but here it is lovely <3 

HAIKYUU BOYS AND NICKNAMES 

ANGEL ! — 

akaashi; out of all his nicknames for you, this is his favorite!! he just thinks it’s very fitting for you, because you’re nothing short of ethereal for him. loves to say it when he’s first greeting you or as he kisses you gn or!!! when he says thank you :) 

osamu; it slips sometimes with him!! not his go-to but it’s very familiar on his tongue when it comes to you, and that’s very endearing :,) just slips casually when he’s asking you a question like, “angel, do we need milk?”  

daichi; omg he usually adds to it and it ends up being some cheesy stuff like “angel-face” and it makes you all flustered because wtf man :( and he always says it while laughing teasingly too ugh :( 

suna; suna has the cheesiest nicknames for you and you cannot convince me otherwise, and you can never tell if it’s genuine or ironic but,,, it doesn’t matter. he sounds so sweet calling you “angel” so whatever :) 

aran; this man. this man. he says it cause he knows it has you weak. he says it so lovingly, so sweetly, so casually, so suave and relaxed and his voice is so smooth and deep. who wouldn’t be swooning over him??? 

aone; AONE AONE PLS AONE PLEASE. he’d just think it’s such a sweet and kind and soft nickname and he likes the way it sounds when it’s whispered and he thinks nothing is more perfect than nicknaming you angel and he says it all the time like “ok, angel,” and “see you tomorrow, angel,” and, “love you, angel,” and it’s so quiet but so sweet hwbwjsjd 

oikawa; he’s about to be in 90% of these cause he’ll be calling you anything but your name. is it because he wants to be annoying and to get on your nerves? or is it because he genuinely means it? the world will never know. you’re not even sure he himself does. 

DOLL ! — 

matsukawa; are you kidding me this is his. it’s HIS. he sounds so hot saying it and he looks so hot saying it and he’s so charming and it’s so like easy on his tongue. and he has a slight drawl to it too and he always says it with this aura of relaxation and ease it’s so hot. he just. he loves it. he loves you. you love it. the world is a better place. 

atsumu; he thinks he’s way cooler than he is when he says it. you suppose he is pretty hot when he calls you doll but you’re not gonna tell him that!!! it’s not his go-to but you can catch it slipping off his tongue every once in a while. 

kuroo; yesyesyes he loves it. only ever says it when he’s so up close and personal with you like cups your cheeks and hovers his lips against yours like, “heya, doll,” and he’s just so handsome. ugh. 

kageyama; at the start of your relationship, kageyama called you by your name and nothing else!! but then he had like this talk w someone and they asked him what he calls you and he realized like,,, am i supposed to be doing it differently??? spent so long just searching up “cute nicknames for my s/o” and then he found “doll” and was like ok. i’ll try. and he tried!! and it stuck!! plus timeskip kags calling you doll??? that’s so hot bye

oikawa; this might be the only sincere nickname he has for you cause everything else is either to provoke you or to be cringy and annoying. and i’m sure you prefer doll over sweet cheeks and pumpkin pie and cinnamon whatever like you hungry tōru?? anyways he loves loves loves calling you doll cause he thinks it’s such a ? smooth and serene nickname? and his voice always gets deeper and quiet when he says it so!!!! 

SUNSHINE ! — 

hinata; please he is all the sunshine, but he always claims that you’re the true sun in his life. idk hinata would be so lame yet so cute like that :( and he always says it with such a big grin he’s so cute pls :( 

tendō; he’s so cute he’s so cute he’s so cute !!!!! your contact name is “my sunshine” definitely definitely definitely. he is literally in love with you and wants the whole world to know it. he loves screaming it out for everyone to hear but also absolutely adores like hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear as he kisses your cheek, “hey, sunshine.” :(((((

kenma; kenma doesn’t wanna think too hard on the whole nicknames thing but he also does kind of sort of really wants to call you something special and the first thing that pops in his head is sunshine. first time he used it you were Shocked but he was acting nonchalant about it (read: freaking out on the inside) and you were like “ok guess im sunshine now.” and you are his sunshine to this day. 

BABY/BABE ! — 

atsumu; it’s easy and it’s endearing!! he personally loves being called babe but he loves hugging you close to him after a long day and just sighing, “hey, baby,” like. he loves it okay. he thinks it’s perfect cause it fits and cause it’s like kinda traditional yk!! 

bokuto; he loves calling you baby cause he just cannot fathom that you’re his like he loves to always say it!!! and he loves how casual it is too like he can just call you that?? that’s so cool?? 

iwaizumi; again with the traditional but endearing and fitting. he doesn’t have to think too hard on it, but also it still means something and is more than just your name or a shorter version of it. also he sounds so hot calling you baby or babe idk i just know it. 

hanamaki; king of “babe! babe :( babeeee! babee. babe come on! babe! baby :(” you’re 99% sure he’s just provoking you at this point. like say babe one more time. but he actually loves resorting to baby, especially when you’re upset and he wants to be as endearing and kind as he can to you. 

daichi; very traditional too tbh. honestly when you two first started dating it was all he could think of saying without feeling awkward or feeling like he was trying too hard. later on when he started to feel more comfortable and more secure he got more creative. 

nishinoya; he has been waiting for this moment his whole life. the moment he can actually call someone his baby or babe. it’s his favorite and possibly only nickname (aside calling you pretty or gorgeous or handsome) and it will always be. 

MY LOVE ! —

akaashi; definitely definitely definitely calls you “my love” like i am 100% sure of this. akaashi is just so. he’s just so romantic but it’s also so unintentional? he says it because it feels natural and it feels right like you are his love after all, aren’t you? 

sakusa; he’s not one for elaborate nicknames honestly, and he feels like “my love” is the right balance of sweet, kind, fitting, and subtle and serene. it’s not doing too much but it’s also doing more than enough yk? also people that look like they would wear a trench coat/blazer and a turtleneck beneath also look like they would use the term “my love” hence sakusa and akaashi. 

tendō; i am telling you guys he is a simp. the loveliest simp ever. he says it so sweetly too like it genuinely makes your tummy twist and heart backflip when you hear him say it cause you can hear how genuine he is in his words oh my god. 

kita; he just !!! he is just husband material okay!!! he is so endearing and he says it in the softest most genuine voice ever and it’s literally his go to because yes you are his love you’re his entire world!!! he loves you!! he wants you to know it every time he calls out to you!! 

BUNNY/PUPPY ! —

bokuto; ARE YOU KIDDING ME. HE LOVES IT. he. loves it. he just finds it so cute and like. he loves the way he associates it with you now. prefers puppy over bunny but like. he loves both. he adores both. 

matsukawa; calls you bunny all the time. not more than doll, but it’s definitely so common. he won’t use it around others not because it’s embarrassing but more because he kinda wants it to be just a thing between the two of you, honestly. 

kenma; IT SLIPPED ONCE AND HE WAS LIKE. A DEER CAUGHT IN THE HEADLIGHTS. he calls you bunny!! sometimes, not always. when he wants something from you mostly. “pass me the water.” “no.” “bunny please :(” it works like magic every time. 

oikawa; oh my god can you imagine??? he loves it so much because one, he thinks it’s such a cute nickname props to whoever decided let’s use pets as literal pet names, but also two, he thinks nothing describes you or fits you better. you are just his bunny :( his puppy :( he loves you :( 

kageyama; timeskip kageyama calls you puppy. i have nothing more to say.

hinata; timeskip hinata calls you puppy. again, i shall say no more. 

suna; hello !!! he loves to call you bunny and/or puppy. the feel of satisfaction he gets when he calls you that like ,,, he feels like you’re properly his yk? yk.

KITTEN ! — 

kuroo; this one is for him and only him. 

LOVELY ! — (maybe sweetheart too) 

osamu; is there anything more beautiful than a tired osamu snuggling up to yoi and with a deep gravely voice saying, “missed you, lovely,” ? no there is not. it’s his favorite nickname for you, and he uses it all the time!! kisses your forehead as he leaves and tells you, “have a good day, lovely,” and comes back home and says, “hiya, lovely,” and tilts his head when you wanna talk to him about something like, “what’s up lovely?” cause you are his lovely, you’re his loveliest. 

sugawara; i have no other explanation other than i can picture it perfectly. he thinks it’s the best choice of a pet name he’s ever chosen and thought of. and he loves the smile on your face whenever he says it, he thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever <3 

BAE ! —

hanamaki; is it a joke? is it not? both. 

okay im sure i missed so many boys but i can’t think of any rn bc it’s like. hella late :( but i wanted to put something out for you guys!! point is, if i didnt mention a boy and you want to know, send me an ask!! and if i didn’t mention a nickname and you want to know that too? send me an ask well!! ill be happy to answer it <3 

love u all mwah <3 

[krethes]

@wolfstarmicrofic Day Fifteen: breathing room

A direct follow-up to Day Twelve: roar

C/w: blood, injury, discussions on mental health, panic attack, and a reference to past fight(s).

"Mr Lupin, I assume you are here to feed me yet another story about how you fell? Ran into a locked portrait hole? Tripped on the stairs?"

"They're magical stairs, Poppy, they're very tricky."

"In the nearly one thousand years since Hogwarts's founding, I don't recall a single incident of the staircases developing..." She looks down at his thigh where a deep gash bleeds steadily through his bandages. It's resisted his friends' healing charms and even Poppy's, and he's had to keep downing blood replenishing potions that taste like knuts (a joke he cannot even appreciate given the circumstances). "...A broadsword." Her blue eyes narrow for a moment before she sighs, all trace of discipline leaving her face. Poppy Conjures a chair and sits at his bedside. "Remus," she says gently, falling into his given name. "If someone is-"

"-They're not," Remus says quickly, but the disappointment that crinkles her expression sends a pike of shame through him. "I just... Get so angry. They say things. About Lily. About Mary."

"And about you?"

"I'm used to that, it's nothing new, but my friends can't help that they're Muggleborn!"

"Just as you cannot help your lycanthropy, Remus," Poppy reminds him gently. It makes his skin prickle uncomfortably, the way she can just... perceive him. "I'll be speaking to Professor Slug-"

"No!" Remus shouts, then, quieter, "No. Please. It's nothing. Look, it's already starting to mend." It's the faintest knitting together of flesh, so slow the untrained eye would miss it, but his body is healing; it's one of the only "good" things about being a werewolf.

Poppy sighs again and siphons away the well of blood with a wave of her wand. "Fighting is explicitly against the rules. I should tell Professor McGonagall."

Remus gulps and glances at the door where a flash of dark hair peeks through the window. "...But...?"

"But, I won't," she says and raises her hand when he makes to speak, "but only under the condition that you agree to see me for Mind Healing."

Remus flinches, recoiling from the idea that he's gone mad, like a rabid dog. He can see it now: being labelled truly, absolutely, as a dangerous creature, being put down, or worse: being locked in a cell lined with silver or being sent to Azkaban. How did werewolves even do in Azkaban? Were the Dementors susceptible to the virus? Were the other prisoners safe from the beast? Would that full moon finally be his last? Panic grips him, freezes the air in his lungs, and Remus's entire body tenses, a coil tightly wound and ready to spring. The edges of his vision begin to fade and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't- he's going to hurt someone for real or- or-!

"Mr Black!" rings in his ears before darkness takes him.

When he comes to, it's to the familiar, calming scent of Sirius, and tears sting his eyes. Sirius gasps and clutches him close, squeezing him in an embrace that both crushes and comforts him, forces the icy air out and pushes warm love in.

"Mr Black, give him some breathing room, please!" Poppy firmly guides Sirius away, a bit more brusquely than she normally does. As Remus's vision returns, he sees that the door has been blown straight off its hinges, and glittering glass dusts Sirius's hair. Poppy wipes Remus's sweaty brow with a cloth and passes him a potion that tastes like candy floss and immediately sends him to a place of zen serenity.

"Mind Healing, Remus, will be good for you. Muggles call their version 'therapy', but I can help you control your anger, and that panic attack you just had."

"He doesn't need to control his anger!" Sirius growls, already back at Remus's side, their fingers laced together. "He's fine, he's just defending himself!!"

Poppy stills Sirius with a hard look, and Remus swears the room gets ten degrees warmer with the tension. Or maybe that's the guilt creeping through his body. Was punching Snape until his face was swollen and bloody defending himself? One or two would have sufficed. Nausea turns his stomach, but Sirius's hands are cool as they brush his hair from his forehead.

"Remus," Poppy continues as though she hasn't heard Sirius's outburst, "think it over. Or at least consider some form of meditation. Breathing exercises. You're getting stronger as you grow, and, honestly, we ought to have started this much sooner. I won't force you, but do consider it. Fully," she adds with a raised eyebrow Sirius's way.

Remus nods mutely and lets Sirius pet his hair while Poppy looks his leg over again. It's stopped bleeding, mostly, and new skin is growing from the base of the gash. After another hour, Poppy sends him back to Gryffindor Tower, and Sirius pulls him on top of his body as soon as they're in the dorm.

"Moony, don't listen to her, you're-"

"I think I should do it."

"Let someone root around in your head?! Moony, are you-"

"Mad? Quite possibly." His throat feels tight, his mouth sandpaper dry. "She's right. I'm not... it's not a fair fight, if it's physical, and... I'm tired. So tired of being angry. All the fucking time."

Sirius makes a pained, choked-off noise and kisses him sweetly, guiding his emotions to an oasis of safe and home. "Okay then," he whispers against Remus's lips and just holds him. Sirius feels like a ground, directing the lightning of his fury to a single point and diffusing it, all with a kiss. "You should do what's good for you. ...But if that could also include still punching Snivellus—on special occasions only! Oi, ouch!"

Remus flips them and pins Sirius with his elbows, huffing faintly annoyed laughter into his neck. "I love you." Sirius says it more often because he seems to understand that Remus needs to hear it, but the words don't come naturally to Remus. Speaking the words leaves Remus feeling vulnerable, flayed open, raw, but Sirius is always there, a balm to calm the sting.

Remus closes his eyes and breathes to the steady, reliable drum of Sirius's heart. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please�� You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[billyrussohaven]

My sweet Emilly

Billy Russo / Reader

Rated: PG (for now)

A/N: So I’m feverish and been feeling like absolute rubbish since getting my 2nd covid shot last Thursday. I can’t sleep and my brain came up with a cute Dad!Billy story. I might do a second part if you guys like it, we shall see!

Credit: @mainlysubmv​

Follow me!

“Just where do you think you’re going dressed like that exactly?” Billy asked his daughter sternly, looking up at her over his glasses. Glasses that he was still getting used to by the way. You kept telling him he looked like a hotter version of Clark Kent but it still seemed to hurt his pride. Billy Russo needing glasses, insane right? What was even more insane was just how much his sweet Emily looked all grown up these days. Her seventeen birthday last month had hit him like a train. He stared at her and let a long sigh out.

Emily reappeared, taking a few steps backwards, tugging down on her green hoodie dress and rolled her shoulder nervously the doorway of the living room. A little nervous gesture she shared with her father that always made you smile.

“It ain’t that bad Billy,” you said looking up from your crochet project on your lap to his daughter’s outfit, your step-daughter.

“It is on the short side but she’s smart and careful, isn’t that right, Millie?” You said, giving her a quick look with a wink.

She grinned back at you before turning to look at her dad.

“It’s still warm out Da…and I have a pair of leggings if it gets colder later,” she said, opening up her backpack and showing him a black pair of leggings, smiling back at him. He snorted at her innocent-like face, he knew better, she was after all his own daughter.

“Fine. No heels. Wear those ridiculously worn-out converse of yours,” he said letting it go and dismissing her with a smirk. She zipped her bag up and ran to give her dad a quick kiss on the cheek. She was out of the room as fast as she entered it.

“Back at midnight! I’ll be with Devin!” Emily said loudly already halfway to the front door.

“11PM!” Billy yelled right as the front door closed with a loud thud. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Wait, who? The fuck’s Devin? Wasn’t it that Jay-” he said with a deep frown turning to look at you.

“Jeremy,” you corrected him going back to your crocheting.

“Jeremy…last week?” He continued giving you a stern look for correcting him that made you chuckle. He rolled his eyes heavenward, taking his glasses off and rubbed his tired face with a groan. You reached to caress his soft hair and smiled. You didn’t comment, you knew he could be a bit overprotective of his Emily sometimes but dads were often that way with their daughters. It reminded you of your own dad and  the shit you did in your youth. It was a wonder he still had some hair left…

*****

Billy woke up abruptly and sat up yawning, looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand next to the still turned on lamp.

1:25AM

He had fallen asleep in bed reading while waiting for Millie to come home. He turned his sleepy face to you sleeping soundly next to him. He smiled gazing at your serene face and caressed the side of your face softly. He heard a loud thud. He frowned and turned around instantly to the door, listening intently. He quietly got out of the bed, tiptoeing to the door, silent as a cat.

“Ow!” a hushed voice said after another loud thud. Billy yanked the bedroom door open and walked face to face with his daughter. His daughter who definitely wasn’t in her pajamas, dressed exactly the same as earlier and who reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

She looked up at her dad glaring at her with disappointment etched all over his face. Her dark brown eyes filled with tears and hurt behind her drunken state. She broke down in sobs and hid her face in her hands. Billy’s heart broke at seeing her cry like that. He was very angry and disappointed at her for coming back home so late and drunk on top of it. He sighed and walked to embrace her tightly as she cried. She held him tightly, her warm tears running down his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“You know better than that, Millie. Walkin’ home drunk instead of calling me or Y/N,” he said softly yet sternly. He cradled her head in his hand and moved to look at her tear stained face. Her chest was racking with sobs and her lower lip was quivering as she looked up at him. He had a feeling she wasn’t crying only because he caught her drunk and way past her 11PM curfew.

“What happened? Talk to me princess,” he asked with a sad frown, brushing her hair back from her face. She broke down into even louder wails and he had to hold part of her weight to help her stay upright.

You put your mid-thigh satin robe on and walked to see what was going on. The light of the bedroom pooled in the darkened hallway as you opened the door wider and you gave Billy a sad smile. The poor thing was so upset and in no state to think clearly. You took a few steps and rubbed her back.

“It’s okay princess, why don’t Y/N help you get ready for bed and we can talk tomorrow,” he said, giving Emily a concerned look. She nodded as he rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. He gave her a kiss on her forehead and let you take her to her bedroom. You grabbed his hand on the way and gave it a squeeze before letting go.

You walked a wobbly and sniffly Emily to her bedroom where she flopped and sat down on the edge of her bed dropping her bag with a loud thud. You walked to her own connecting bathroom from her bedroom and grabbed a small square towel. You ran it under the cool water and wrung it. You took a bottle of tylenol knowing she was gonna need it in the morning and a tall glass of water too.

You walked back to Millie who was undressing and putting on her pajamas. You were somewhat impressed she didn’t fall on her butt taking her leggings off before stepping into her pajamas shorts.

“Here, drink this you’ll feel better,” you said softly, handing her the glass of water. She nodded and drank half of it before putting it down on her nightstand next to the two Tylenol for tomorrow morning. You rubbed the cool wet cloth on her forehead and neck and she sighed before letting another sob out.

“I’m-I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to get home alone so late…Da looked so upset,” she said, hugging you and cried on your shoulder. You hushed her soothingly and rocked her a bit, hugging her back.

“He still loves you, Millie. He’s just disappointed you came home so late and in a very vulnerable state I might add. Now, I’m not gonna scold you, it’s not my place but something could have happened to you baby,” you said brushing her hair back.

“We much rather have you wake us up late to pick you up than having you stumble drunkenly home alone. What happened? I thought you were hanging out with Devin?” You asked, helping her get in bed. She started crying again at the name and you knew right away the poor girl was heartbroken.

“W-we went to this party together a-and it was really fun. Everything was great, we’re great friends and I love when Devin’s around, you know?” She mumbled, looking at you with her father’s dark brown eyes filled with hurt.

“B-but we drank and I-I I thought Devin liked me a lot too and we kissed but-” She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you knew. You sighed and cradled her small frame in your arms.

“She abruptly stepped back, pushing me away a-and calling me names and stuff. S-she left a-and I didn’t have money for a cab because I paid the fare to get there. She was supposed to pay the cab fare back a-and then I didn’t want to call Da and have him angry at me.” She said, wiping her wet face in her pillow. You nodded, brushing her soft hair soothingly.

“Get some good sleep now, we’ll talk more tomorrow, alright? You suggested standing up and tucked her in. She nodded with a sniffle and closed her eyes.

"Thank you Y/N…Nini,” she said softly, watching you walk away to the door. You turned and gave her a warm smile,

“Anytime Millie. Good night sweetheart,” you said before flipping the light switch off and closing her bedroom door.

You tiptoed out of her bedroom and back to your own where Billy was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. He looked up at you, his face conflicted and tired.

“How is she?” He asked standing up to give you a tight embrace. He really appreciated how you were with Emily, the special bond you had developed with her. It made him love you even more as he kissed your head.

“She’s young, in love and broken-hearted I’m afraid,” you said with a long sigh, resting your head on his chest. You gave him a brief summary of what she had told you. You felt a bit guilty at reporting it all back to Billy but he’d probably know sooner or later too.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him when I find him,” he snarled pacing in front of you. He brushed his hair back and thought about the best way to throttle the asshole.

“Devin is a girl, Billy.” You said with a small smile, wondering what his reaction was gonna be.

He stopped pacing abruptly and his eyebrows shot upwards as he looked back at you dumbstruck.

“Oh! Oh,” he said, rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat. You looked back at him with one eyebrow up wondering what was going on in his head at the moment.

“Well, I guess I won’t…punch the brat then,” he said somewhat sheepishly and a bit confused. Not that it mattered to Billy if his little Millie liked guys or girls. It’s just…

“She never really talked about it. She always showed up with  boyfriends before so I guess I just…took it for granted really,” he said with a frown sitting by the bed. After a long silence he looked up at you with a vulnerability that broke your heart to see.

“Am I a bad father for it?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly, he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulder, looking at the picture frame of her on his nightstand.

You took your robe off and stood in front of him between his legs. You cradled the side of his face and tilted it up so he’d look at you.

“No, Billy. It doesn’t make you a bad father, baby,” you brushed a strand of hair away from his eye.

“I guess you two just never really brought it up. I remember when I was seventeen myself, a young woman still in high-school, afraid of being bullied for being any kind of different,” you said with a sigh, remembering how cruel high-school was.

Billy scoffed and sneered at his own memories of it. Lonely guy from the group home with no family or friends beside small pets he’d keep in jars. He smiled warmly with a silent snort remembering how Emily had her own pet snail for a while and how much she took care of the little one.

“She might still be figuring herself out too,” you added with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tomorrow anyway, maybe she’ll want to open up and chat about all of this,” he said, rubbing his tired face with his hands. You kissed him slowly before breaking the kiss and crawling back in bed in your short satin nightie. He groaned looking back at you, suddenly very awake for almost 3AM. He rolled over on the bed and pulled you flat against his body with a sly smirk. You chuckled at the attention he gave you and kissed him languidly with a moan.

“I’m still gonna scold her ass,” he mumbled over your lips, reaching over you and turning off the light.

A/N: Random Fact. My fiancé’s name is Devin. I remembered him telling me he had a girl classmate once in school named Devin. 😋

[genshin-obsessed]

My (f/n) | Zhongli x Reader

Hello! This was originally a collab idea from a friend between like 5 people. The friend who suggested the collab pulled out and idk about others lmao so it might just be me. BUT I COMMITED AND DELIVERED SO! Cuz I’m responsible and amazing💖 anyway. It’s a reincarnation AU! Banner made by 🎭 anon! Thanks to @squeaky-ducky and @solies-scripts for helping me edit this💖

Extra sidenotes: Your previous self’s vision is pyro but you can choose whatever for the reincarnated version even tho it’s not mentioned. Also, Yehara and Lilith are my OCs (yes... more)

Length: 2.1k Summary: Zhongli loves and cherishes you above all else. One day, you’re snatched away from him and the world turns black for him. Yet somehow, a thousand years later, he sees you again.

The bright sun beamed down at the land below, illuminating everything in a golden glow. Zhongli stepped out into the light and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

Days like these were beautiful but they became a blessing all thanks to one person. A smile graced Zhongli’s beautiful features at the thought of them. His hand found its way onto his chest and he felt it steadily beat. He felt an overwhelming sense of serenity and it was all thanks to this person. You.

You, yourself, were a blessing in this archon’s life. He never thought he would ever feel like this. That he would ever feel love. What was love to archons? They usually loved the lands they resided over. The original archons held love for humanity and guided them.

For Zhongli, love was something of a general term. He loved the sun, the lands… today. But his love for you was something he couldn’t describe. Something the man of wondrous knowledge couldn’t understand.

Zhongli came to realize that love wasn’t something that could be easily explained nor did it need to be. Love gave him overwhelming happiness, so why bother trying to understand every aspect of such a beautiful idea.

The Geo archon walked through the city of Liyue and although he felt great joy, there was also a certain uneasiness. He paused and touched his chest once more as the anxiety grew.

Ultimately, the man ignored it, unable to find the root cause of such dread. He instead opted to find you, so you could settle his nerves a little.

***

“Zhongli!” You beamed once you saw him. He chuckled as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his slim figure.

“You’re rather excited today,” he commented as he hugged back, “what brought on such elation?”

“Hmm, a very pretty man.” You said, cheekily. There it was, that smile of yours washed away any and all discomfort he felt.

“Oh, is that so? I’m quite jealous.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Zhongli chuckled once more as you leaned in and gave him a kiss. The sensation of your soft lips remained on his even after you’d pulled away. “What brings you here today?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together. We could go for a walk, maybe set up a picnic since that’s what you wanted to do last time.”

“Really!? You’ll go on a picnic with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Your radiant smile was contagious as he found himself smiling in return.

“I’ll set it up!! It can be a late night picnic or- oh! Oh! Let’s watch the sunset! Then we can have our picnic. I’ll set up candles!” Your enthusiasm was always something Zhongli loved. It benefited him more than he could admit.

“Alright then. Where?”

“Our spot!” Zhongli teasingly tilted his head making you pout.

“What spot? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! Come on, Zhongli!” Zhongli leaned in and pecked your pouty lips before nodding.

“I do. Then I’ll meet you there?” You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes! Exactly! I’ll have everything set up and I want it to be a surprise.”

Zhongli spent a little more time with you before he left, since you needed to prepare for the date. Only a few minutes after he’d left you, the anxiety returned. He touched his chest once more with furrowed brows. What was this?

***

You smiled as you started to place the items down onto the blanket. You’d been planning this picnic for weeks now and you finally had the chance to do it.

You set the cushions and small table you had brought, placing the candles and wine bottle. The food would remain in the basket to keep it safe from bugs since you had to wait quite a while. Hopefully your pyro vision was enough to keep it warm.

“Hello, are you (y/f/n)?” A soft voice called from behind. You turned around and saw a shy, but beautiful woman with long pink hair. The clothes she wore indicated she clearly wasn’t from here. She fidgeted with her hand, showing she was nervous.

“Um… who’s asking?”

“Ah, sorry! My name is Lilith but you can call me Lily. I was told you knew where I could find a um… Mr. Zhongli?”

Zhongli? Why was she looking for him? Finding her safe enough, you opted to direct her to your boyfriend rather than giving information about yourself.

“Oh, yes I do! He’s back in Liyue but you’ll find him at Wangshen Funeral Parlor.”

“Thank you so much!” But she didn’t leave. A giggle escaped her lips and she met your eyes, giving you a dreadful feeling.

“Y-yes?”

“So he’s not here with you… good.” In the blink of an eye, Lilith was in front of you. She threw you back causing you to fly into a tree. You let out a scream as your weakened body hit the ground. Pain shot through you and you weakly looked up at her.

“Wh-why…”

“Pitiful. You’d think he’d choose someone of his caliber but no. He chose someone weak and pathetic like you. Your pyro vision was wasted on you.” Woah, where did her soft voice and shy demeanor go?

“Zh-Zhongli…” you called out as Lilith picked you up and slammed you into the tree once more.

“Call him all you want. But he won’t get here in time.” Lilith repeatedly slammed you into the tree before a sickening crack was heard.

A weak whimper escaped your bloodied lips as the light faded from your eyes.

“H-help m-me… Zh… Zhong… li…” Lilith caught your limp body and picked you up. A wicked smile played on her lips as she walked to her destination.

***

It had happened all so suddenly. Zhongli was meeting an acquaintance to talk about his work at the funeral parlor when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his chest and back. He just knew.

He threw everything away, apologizing to his friend and practically sprinting to where you two were supposed to meet. There he was met with a grim sight.

The picnic had been set up almost completely, but the large tree behind it was covered in blood. The Geo Archon knew exactly who it belonged to. He finally noticed the letter sitting on the table.

Once he read it, he ran to the nearest Statue of the Seven in hopes of finding you and whoever took you. But it was too late. When he finally reached the statue, his heart shattered.

Your body was on top of the statue, laying across the lap of the stone man. Blood trailed down your arm that hung over the edge and dripped from your finger. Your lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, the final sign of your death.

A large pillar solidified in front of him and he quickly climbed up to get to you. Zhongli’s shaky hand slowly and hesitantly touched yours. Cold. You were so cold. Where was your usual warmth? Where was that dazzling smile that often chased away his sorrows? Where was the light in your eyes? Where was the joy you brought him?

“M-my… (f/n)...” he murmured in a sorrowful tone, “what’s… no. No, this isn’t happening.” He pulled you down and into his arms, wincing at how lifeless you were.

You couldn’t be dead, you couldn’t have left him. He jumped down to the ground with you tightly in his arms. His eyes stung and his vision started to get blurry. Crying? An archon, crying? The tears slowly slid down his pale cheeks. His voice cracked when he spoke up.

“Wake up, my love. Please wake up.” He begged looking down at you. The blood trickled down your mouth, a clear sign you’d been killed recently. Within the hour, actually. “P-please blink… please wake up. Please come back to m-me. I just… I can’t do this without you. I…” what could he say? What could he do?

Zhongli had failed. He’d failed to keep you safe and alive. He’d vowed to always protect you and he vowed to never let you get hurt.

The tears spilled down his cheeks and the pain in his heart grew. He took your face in his free hand and took a good look at his consequence. At his failure.

“Tell m-me this is just s-some cruel joke, w-wake up and tell me this isn’t real. I-it’s just a n-nightmare, right? Right?” Zhongli held you tightly with his head pressed against your chest. Nothing. He heard nothing.

You never blinked, you never looked up at him with that adorable giggle, and you never exclaimed it was a joke.

You really were gone.

***

How many years ago was that now? Almost a thousand? Zhongli had never gotten over your death and how could he? His first and only lover had been ripped away from him and he still hadn’t found the murderer.

There had been a significant change in Zhongli since then. He was much more reserved and defensive but he was also very protective of anyone he came to call a friend. Ever since losing you, he found it hard to love and care for people the same way.

There was a constant emptiness, a loneliness that never left. No matter how many friends surrounded him, he always felt empty. Food and drinks were tasteless and the world lacked color. No smile matched yours, no warmth matched yours, and he never found a pair of dazzling eyes such as yours. And he was sure he’d never see them again… or so he thought.

“Zhongli! Are you coming?” Yehara asked, making the man look toward her.

“Oh, sure. Let’s go.” Zhongli had met Yehara a few years ago and had helped her during a commission. She hadn’t been doing so well and he’d practically saved her. Ever since then, she stuck to him like glue. Although he wasn’t terribly fond of her from the beginning, he grew to like her. Once they were close enough, Zhongli finally opened up about you and your death.

Yehara swore she’d help solve the murder and wouldn’t rest until he knew. Zhongli had grown much closer to her than he anticipated. The relationship gave him complicated feelings, ones he didn't want to even deal with.

At first, he wondered if he had feelings for Yehara or else why did he feel so comfortable with her? Why did he feel so safe? Why did he often find himself seeking her out when he felt alone? He was scared because you were long gone but for him it was just yesterday. Zhongli didn't want to move on, no matter how healthy it was. He only wanted you, nobody else. Not Yehara, not another archon, no one but you.

There were many things he felt with you that he didn’t with Yehara. Her smile didn’t light up his world, her laughter didn’t echo in his ears, her hugs didn’t leave him tingling, and her words never stayed with him for more than a minute.

There were many nights he spent thinking about himself and Yehara. Was he in love with her? It took some time, but he eventually came to the conclusion that didn’t. He hoped she didn’t either.

“Zhongli! Stop dozing off!” Yehara said, making him look down. He chuckled and patted her head, before looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen ag-” Zhongli stopped abruptly, his golden-orange eyes widened. No…

“Oh come on Zhongli, you just said this wouldn’t happen again.” Yehara huffed and followed his gaze. He was looking into a group of people but after a few moments, her red eyes widened as well.

A person, looking EXACTLY like you was smelling some flowers at a stall. You smiled and Zhongli’s heart sped up immediately.

“It’s them… that’s my (f/n)... I know it.” The archon whispered.

“That can’t be… I thought…” Yehara looked at Zhongli only to look back at you. The duo watched as you nodded and purchased the flowers and turned towards them. When your eyes landed on them you froze, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.

“They saw us.” Yehara gasped, bringing Zhongli out of his trance. You did. You were looking directly at him with the same look of shock. Without wasting any more time, you ran towards him and stopped right in front of them. Zhongli’s heart was beating out of his chest and he clenched his hands. Why were you looking at him like that?

“You’re… Zhongli, right? I’m (y/f/n)... I know you from my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Yehara asked and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. You were more beautiful than Zhongli had described. She could see why he was so infatuated.

“I began dreaming about you when I turned 20.” That was an odd coincidence, since you were 20 when he first asked you to be his.

“You… know me?”

“I do. I only know things from dreams and as dreams not memories… but since you’re here in front of me, there has to be some truth to them. So will you tell me more?” A smile of relief appeared on his lips and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for you… my (f/n).”

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

serendipity // bucky barnes

PART TWO

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of cheating, reader is a bitch, sad bucky, angst, fluff, lack of ‘40s knowledge

A/N: As always, please remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @coffee-books-music​ for proofreading this!

divider by @firefly-graphics​

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

Red. Everything went red. Your vision blurred as a flame curled in the pit of your stomach. You enter the building with a firm step, walking through the hallways, anger building inside you, trying to take over the sadness you didn’t want to feel. Your phone vibrated in the pocket of your jeans, you reach for it only to see the name of your sister on the screen. Memories weighed down on you, but you would not allow yourself to break down anymore. Instead, your heart turned ice cold and slunk into the shadows as your brain took complete control. You screamed in frustration and threw the phone against the nearest wall. How dare she call you? You took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Are you okay?” a voice called from behind you. You turned to face a man you had never seen before. He was tall, with long dark hair for his shoulders and piercing steel-blue eyes. His face changed once he saw you, going from worried to shocked.

“Y/N?” he asked cautiously, his voice was so soft, with a hidden hope you didn’t catch on.

��Do I know you?” you asked, not really caring for him, but getting annoyed for how he was looking at you.

“Is it really you?” he asked again, not believing what his eyes were seeing. Maybe so much brainwashing had really messed with him.

“Look dude, it’s really not a good time,” you wanted to leave, but he grabbed your arm, not forcefully, but with enough force for you not to have the chance to leave. You yanked your arm from his grasp and realized that where his left arm was supposed to be, there was, instead, a metal arm. Who the fuck was this guy?

“Don’t touch me,” you rebuked. Waves of fury rolled off you as the blood rose to your cheeks. The term anger barely even touched the tip of the volcano that you so clearly were in that moment.

He took a step back, not wanting to upset you even more, but he could not help himself, he needed to know if it was really you. He wished it was really you.

“Y/N, Bucky? What’s going on here?” the voice of Steve Rogers flooded your ears, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Ask your friend,” you said before giving a not-so-friendly glare to the guy before picking the pieces of your phone and making your way to your room, leaving the men behind you.

You groaned in frustration against the pillow. You were such a bitch when you met him. There were times when your brain fries up. It was no excuse you know; you owned your behavior. It was like a trigger flicked inside you. Your emotions turned cold, fearful, anxious... You back away, flee or strike out at someone. Those are the moments where you’re not proud of who you are. You fail to be the warrior you were always told you were born to be. Instead, you show the frightened child within, damaged and afraid, the one still hiding from the monsters under the bed. You knew these are things you have to work on. You had spent so much time caring for others, pouring out love without measure, yet never receiving it in return. So like a stupid child, you hold out for love.

Now you understand why Bucky acted so weird around you that day in the compound. He remembered you. He remembered you from that night in the dance hall. But… how could he? It hadn’t happened yet. Well, technically yes, but at the same time, no.

“What are you thinking about?” Wanda pulled out from your thoughts, you turned your head to look at her.

“Nothing,” you lied.

“Y/N, we’ve known each other for a long time, I can tell when you’re lying.”

After a few minutes in silence you finally speak up, “I was thinking about the first day I met Bucky,” the tone of your voice betraying you.

“Y/N, you just find out your fiancé cheated on you with your sister. It’s normal you acted the way you did. You were angry.”

“And what about the other times?” you sat up and faced your best friend. “I had been nothing but mean to him.”

That morning you woke up later than usual so when you entered the kitchen, the breakfast was long gone. You groaned, you really needed a coffee.

“Sorry kiddo,” Tony patted your back before leaving the room. Sam and Steve made their way to the gym. Wanda and Nat were chatting on the counter, and the new guy was standing a few steps away from them looking at you. Again.

“Do you have some problem with me?” you asked annoyed, alarming the girls of your presence. They turned to look at you. “You are always staring at me.”

“S-sorry,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away from you. You rolled your eyes and made your way to your friends. “Here,” he offered you a mug of coffee. “It’s still warm.”

You looked at him confused, “You always drink a cup of coffee in the mornings, so when I noticed you weren’t coming anytime soon, I poured one for you in case you would come out later,” Nat and Wanda shared a smile on their faces, melting at how sweet the former winter soldier was being.

Your reaction was very different, though. “I want nothing from you,” and you left the kitchen, leaving the guy with a heartbreaking look on his face, and a shocking one on both of your friends’.

“You can do nothing to change the past, what has happened has happened. But you can change from now on.”

“You think I still have time?”

“You’ll have to try”

You had hurt Bucky so much; you took out all the anger you felt inside you on him. It was unfair. No matter how badly you treated him, he always sent a smile your way, he had been nothing but nice to you. You were a horrible person.

Everyone had their reasons for being how they were. Some people get past their troubles and grow mature, others get stuck in a sort of basic mode of fear and reactions, loving responses becoming absent or portioned out for personal gain. You were the latter type.

This had been the ninth time you checked to see if Wanda was really asleep. You felt like you were sixteen again and you were sneaking out of your house to meet your boyfriend. But you needed to go to the dance hall, needed to see if he would still be there.

You made the pillows form the shape of your body and covered them with the duvet, and you tiptoed out the room.

You walked through the Brooklyn streets one more time, those streets, so familiar but at the same time, so different to you. You spotted the dance hall you were in last night. The night where you met Bucky, and you danced with him…. you kissed him. Immediately, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks when you remembered the feeling of his soft lips on yours. You. brushed your thumb across your lips and a smile crept its way across your face.

You searched through the club, looking for the soldier. What if he wasn’t here tonight? What if he had already met someone else, and he’s dancing with them? You disliked the pit that formed in your stomach when your head was clouded with the thought of Bucky with someone else, holding them the same way that he had held you, showing them that beautiful smile of his….. his lips on someone else’s.

“Looking for someone, doll?” you turned around at the sound of his voice, even though you hastily left last night with no explanation, he didn’t seem mad about it, his face still plastered the same smile.

“H-hi.”

“You’re going shy on me now, doll?” he asked, “What happened the previous night? Never had a dame running away from me so fast,” he joked.

You chuckled lightly, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, no worries,”

The same song that you danced to last night started playing, your eyes caught a few couples starting moving to the music. When you turned to look at Bucky again, he had his head tilted to one side and a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

You stretched out your arm to him, “Shall we?”

He didn’t think twice and took your hand in his. “So, what made you come back?” he asked. His hands were on your hips and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, just like last night while you swayed to the music.

“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to dance to our song one more time.” you were feeling pretty bold, and you liked it, and by the grin forming on Bucky’s face, you were sure he liked it too.

“Our song?”

You hummed. “That’s our song. So you can’t dance it with anyone else,” you replied, “Just me.”

He chuckled, “I have no problem with that, doll.”

As you both kept swaying to the music, you leaned towards his body and let your head rest on his chest. You felt the way his heartbeat quickened and smiled, knowing you were the cause for it. All of your thoughts stopped. It was like your heart took over your head when you were with him. You realized that you never felt this way when you were in Jake’s arms.

You wanted a love that was passionate and determined, fire with earth, yet was also a serenity soul that you could dwell in forever. When the song finally ended, you felt his intense gaze on you, and your insecurity took over, “Is everything okay?” you asked looking at him.

“If I kissed you now, would you run away from me again?”

You laughed, and shook your head, “No, not again.”

“Promise? Because my heart wouldn’t be able to handle it again.”

You looked into his blue eyes, and you cursed yourself for not realizing before how beautiful his eyes were… every piece of him was beautiful. He was a masterpiece. You didn’t answer his question, but instead, you stood on your tiptoes and closed the gap between the two of you before he could say anything else.

“I’m telling you, it’s her.” Bucky was losing his nerves to the disbelief of his best friend.

“Buck, it’s been over 80 years, there’s no way it’s her.”

You were the exact same replica of the woman that stole his heart back in 1942 in that dance hall. It was you. He was sure about that. No matter how crazy it would have sounded.

If he and Steve were still here, why couldn’t you be too?

“Alright, then why didn't she recognize you?” Steve wasn’t trying to be mean, he knew his friend really loved that girl since the second she bumped into him. But he also knew that the chances of it being the same person were slim. Maybe you were her granddaughter. But that wasn’t an option Bucky could consider.

“I don’t know,” the soldier didn’t have an explanation for that. Maybe they had brainwashed you the same way they did with him and you forgot about your past… about him? If that was the case, he would try his best to make you remember. “But I will not lose her again.”

He wouldn’t give up on you. Not again.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Odd Ones In" Episode Followup, Part 2

Place your bets on how long this followup is gonna be. In how many parts. 2 and a half minutes in and I'm on Part 2. Good God.

Let's continue below the break!

(And if you haven't seen Part 1, peep it here before proceeding.)

Perhaps the most pressing question that will never get answered: how can she even get home?

...

No, better question: how'd she wind up working on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls? They won't answer that one either, but it needs to be asked because we also never got an answer for Opal and Omar in Season 3.

"They said you're needed right away, but with a very fancy accent."

This is, on some very thin level, xenophobic in the Oddverse.

Do not ask me why. This is what happens when you work in a cave behind a waterfall. Bite me.

On God's BUTT IT IS OPAL AND OMAR ALL OVER AGAIN HUH. ONLY WITH A SMALLER EMPLOYEE BASE HUH.

Two agents, one's a hard worker, they're in a remote area...

Cool. I hate it. Thank you. 0/10, see me for summer classes on originality. The only original thing here is that the Director here is leagues smarter than "the cold bit my brain" Arctic Mr. O.

"transfer papers" AND THERE WERE NONE FOR OPAL AND OMAR??? EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?!

Granted they got plopped into a new department, but still...we have logistics lore. Let's stick to the logistics lore. You can erase a lot of things about Season 3, but it still gave us lore of the logistical kind.

First mistake was trusting Ozzie in that this random-ass agent is the best one in the world among a pseudo-government organization of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.

Second mistake was thinking one agent will solve the entire crisis.

Third mistake...uh...

Okay, third mistake is bringing back Olympia's welcome basket thing from "Xs and Os". That's it.

It's ironic because Ozzie looks like Otis, who openly showed disdain at Olympia's welcome basket in that episode.

"One with cheese in it?!"

"Ozzie, she's lactose-intolerant."

"Aww...wait, what?"

"Now, Oprah, on the other hand..."

"Who?"

"Sit down and let me tell you a story of a little friend of ours-a named Oprah..."

Gonna say this off the bat: the fact that this precinct's numbers are a flipped version of 13579 (97531) will forever bug me to the grave. Pretty much the show's entire Discord server has come up with more original numbers. I've come up with more original numbers!

"Oh, I'm not your partner."

Mm. You keep telling yourself that, Ozzie. You keep living in that world of delusion.

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HE GAVE HER NOTHING?!?!?!?! UNDER THE PRETENSE THAT "TIME RAN OUT"???

AND SHE L O V E S I T ?!?!?!?!?!

...No, honestly, given where she was working before, an empty basket is a marked improvement.

And we're already performing theft from Season 2's "First Day" in the form of "agent just arrives to Headquarters but is shipped off into town before anything happens".

Let's be honest: this may be a 10-year-old franchise, but I'd like some originality with shacking up with the CBBC instead of leaning on PBS like a crutch. CBBC's more lax, from what I gather. Go wild!

OHHHHH no. Orli found a loophole. A legal loophole. You can't close the loophole, Ozzie. That was in your job description too.

"Again, we're not partners."

I mean, to be fair, he has a point. If he were Orli's partner, he'd be wearing an Investigation department suit.

But he's not, so...he's not.

Otto's whole "I'm terrified of taking the tubes" schtick from Season 1, copied and pasted.

Guys, I'm apt to turn this into a drinking game and then go get my stomach pumped. They're serving me this stuff on a silver platter. I can't not oblige.

So you had to stuff it in a room with shitty-ass chains versus...getting rid of it?

Let me tell you something: in the TAoPaM 'Verse, I came up with a literal version of "The Odd Side". Basically, oddness gets zapped, and it goes to the Odd Side where it can thrive in a safe environment. It's run by a queen named Clementine, a resident of a town of dogpeople known as Galagu who has been corrupted by The Odd Side and antagonizes Mandy for abandoning her when they were children instead of helping her.

If you think that sounds more sane than whatever bumfuck idea Onom has here, you'd be right. And that's not bias -- those chains can't hold shit, let alone a door.

I will say that this lab is already more expansive than any Lab we've seen in the past, and I like it.

That being said, Onom, the fact that you can't fit a tiny-ass egg in that room only proves me more right in that storing oddness in a tinny lil' room is a bad idea.

Taking another shot of Fireball for this very blatant "There Might Be Dragons" rip.

And before you say "it's not a rip", allow me to remind you what was playing on PBS stations before Odd Squad UK premiered.

"There Might Be Dragons".

Out of over 100 episodes.

That's no coincidence.

Behold, the man who will reinvent every single piece of medical research about pilonidal cysts and make every medical researcher in existence who is focusing on it break down into tears.

And if you happen to not know what a pilonidal cyst is, I envy you dearly.

He's...he's sitting on it...on the floor...

Y'know, at least Oprah had the decency of being elevated. Oswald...

...No, actually, Oswald was worse, because he was sitting on the dusty dirty ground and bouncing on it.

See, this is the kind of tourist my state fears.

The only reason why we don't yote 'em into the sun is because, aside from the obvious morality reasons, they give the state revenue and lots of it.

So yes, I can, indeed, relate to this despite being a dumb lil' American.

If things are so bad that you're sending out your cook to go deal with a food-related odd problem, you are 100% fucked and having Orli there won't solve a lick of shit.

Behold: a child who has gotten more pilonidal cysts than most people will ever get in their lifetime.

Nice to see the creepy "exercised lately" PSAs have not made their way to Britain enough to teach the children not to plant ass so much and to stand up and move.

"Agent Orli is the best agent in the world."

I can name 13 agents who are more than willing to contest you on that, Ozzie.

"Wow! You're all so polite here!"

As opposed to...Canadians, who are well known for being polite? As in, the country you came from?

Yeah, you don't get out much, do ya?

God, I haven't had this much combined fun and rage over stupidity since dealing with the vehicular stupidity that was littered all throughout Season 3.

Now this is a guy who has seen some shit in his lifetime.

Y'know...beyond...lightning coming out of his head.

"The Towel-inator's my only gadget!"

You laugh, but it makes sense considering she comes from the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, "towel ain't big enough" be damned.

It took them seven entire fucking minutes to show a math lesson, and for this franchise, that is some hella good restraint for a 22-minute episode. Normally you'd be exposed to one before the five-minute mark!

Episode gotta episode, but I'm laughing at how Ozzie actually has gadgets to begin with considering it seems he doesn't really get out much. His expertise is helping around HQ, not helping clients.

(On to Part 3!)

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking prompts: 22. “When you’re feeling better, I swear, we’ll talk this out.” Qui-Gon& Obi-Wan. You’re writing is so lovely btw!!

Yay, more prompts! And I do love this one. Thank you for choosing it!

CW: this one got rather dark. there are heavy implications of and references to attempted assault of a minor, child death, and other horrors of war.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

They were three days out from Coruscant when the fever made a turn for the worse.

The Jinn/Kenobi team had been deployed to Calzec III to investigate the disappearance of an ambassador, an assignment that had led them down very dark paths into the minds and heart of a planetary society.

A mere two days into their investigation, Obi-Wan had vanished — kidnapped, it was quickly discovered, by the party responsible for the disappearance and murder of the ambassador.

Qui-Gon had assumed that the six days between Obi-Wan’s abduction and his recovery would be the worst of it.

That the growing dread inside him that had gnawed away at his concentration and serenity, the likelihood that he would not reach his apprentice in time, his fears that Obi-Wan was being hurt, would be the most difficult things to handle.

Or even the mingled relief and panic when he had finally found his sixteen-year-old Padawan bound and unconscious in a cellar with a floor half-flooded in dirty water — that after that, they had survived the worst.

He was mistaken.

Obi-Wan was ill when he was pulled out of that cellar. There was no one to trust and nowhere to flee except off-planet, and the the distance between Calzec III and the nearest medically advanced planet was no shorter than simply returning to Coruscant.

So he set a course for Coruscant and settled Obi-Wan in his bunk, stripping off the soiled clothing he had been wearing since his kidnapping and replacing them with a clean set of tunics.

The boy was exhausted, unfocused; his skin was clammy to the touch and he had brief periods where he seemed fully awake and mostly functional.

After the first day of hyperspace travel, they had settled into a routine. Qui-Gon kept to the cockpit, while Obi-Wan kept to his bunk and the fresher, trying to rest and to contain his illness. Qui-Gon knocked periodically on his door, reassuring himself that his apprentice was all right.

And that he was there, because working alone on a hostile planet without knowing anything of his Padawan’s wellbeing aside from being sure that he was in danger had been more of a trial than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

And then, on the third day, he knocked lightly on the door and received no reply.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

He thought he heard an indistinct mumble. Qui-Gon chuckled, imagining the boy emerging from his blankets like an irritated loth-cat, rumpled and annoyed.

Then Obi-Wan screamed.

Qui-Gon’s mind conjured — for a split second — a new version of the image he had pictured in his mind for over a week — his Padawan, attacked in his sleep — drugged — dragged from his bed —

Then he blinked and the image vanished. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and pressed on the entry pad, opening the door. He stepped inside the cramped cabin and was relieved to see the boy securely in his bed, the room completely absent of any impossible intruders. But Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with fever, and he was struggling beneath his blankets, thrashing as if he were actually being attacked.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, shaking his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

The Padawan didn’t seem to register Qui-Gon’s presence at all. He struggled with his bedsheets, small whimpers escaping his lips as he fought.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon said more sharply. “Wake up now!”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and dry heaved, his eyes flying open. His Master dropped to his knees beside the bed, running a hand soothingly up and down the boy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “You were dreaming.”

“C-C—” Obi-Wan choked.

“Shh,” Qui-Gon said again.

“Cerasi—”

Qui-Gon’s heart plummeted. Obi-Wan was not coherent, that was obvious.

The boy had not mentioned that name in over two years.

“Padawan, you must focus,” he said softly. “This is not Melida/Daan. We are on a ship, heading home.”

“Cerasi is…”

…dead…

“…gonna… kill you.” Obi-Wan’s words, and the sheer venom in them, shocked the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan was still struggling, but more slowly now, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing so. His eyes flickered feverishly to the middle distance, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Padawan…” Qui-Gon said slowly.

“Let them go!” Obi-Wan shrieked suddenly. One arm came loose from the blankets and missed striking his Master by inches. “Let them go, they’re too young! Let them go let them go let them go!”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon seized his Padawan by the shoulders.

Bloodshot blue eyes suddenly snapped directly onto Qui-Gon’s face, but instead of calming, Obi-Wan’s panic only increased. “Get off me!” He screamed, twisting, kicking, squirming away. “Don’t… don’t you touch me! Stop, stop, stop!” he was wailing now, utter despair twisting his face beyond recognition. “Please don’t!”

Qui-Gon released his Padawan as if burned. He pulled away sharply, horror rising in him, tasting bile.

I wasn’t — I wouldn’t —

It’s a fever dream —

A memory?

Qui-Gon tasted bile. “No,” he heard himself say aloud. “No.”

Obi-Wan had squirmed away, pressing himself flat against the wall the bed rested against, his body curling inwards — the last defense of the helpless, the frightened. The abused.

“I won’t,” he was saying frantically. “I won’t. Get out. Get out. They’re flying in the morning, they’re flying — Nield said — we tried to take the tank but — we lost too many — no. I tried! I did!”

Obi-Wan fell abruptly silent again, staring vaguely, his breaths coming in uneven little puffs. Sweat glistened on his brow, in his hair.

Qui-Gon wanted desperately to reach out and touch his shoulder, wipe his brow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, terrified of causing another panicked outburst, of hearing —

I don’t know what happened on Melida/Daan.

“Trevor, Meola, Hanta, Chassi, come with me,” Obi-Wan said, still gazing vacantly. His voice, however, was firm. “We need to clear the streets. Gather up the bodies. Any pieces large enough to carry. Leave anything too small.”

I never asked him. I just assumed. He told me about the end of the war and Cerasi’s murder and I never thought to ask for more.

“Hanta?” Obi-Wan said. He coughed. Kept trying to talk even though he could barely breathe. “Hanta? Dammit… she’s gone. Infection. Infection. We’re out of medicine. We’re out. They can’t. I won’t go. They can’t they can’t. Get out.”

Obi-Wan dissolved into jumbled sentences, his eyes fluttering open and shut and open again, his cheeks blazing with fever.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered.

“Cerasi?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan said, and he sounded very small, so uncertain, nothing like the slowly-more-confident but quiet Padawan who had accompanied him last week. “I could. But he’s not. He’s not. He left, he doesn’t — he doesn’t want me.”

Another chill swept through Qui-Gon. He held his breath, waiting for more, not wanting to hear it but needing to know.

“He left me, I’m not meant — he said I wasn’t meant to be — I’m not good enough for it, Cerasi,” Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes fell closed again. He almost seemed to be sleeping. “He was right about… right about me. I’m not. Not. I can ask. He might not… come back. For you. For you he might. He’s good. Not me. Not me.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head onto the bedsheets, his breath sharp and painful in his chest.

I never asked.

“Nield. I will ask. I’ll ask the Jedi I will, I will. I’m not one of them. For you. I’ll ask for you.”

We never talked about it.

“The little ones, Cerasi. I can watch them. I’ll watch them today. My fingers. The man, he broke my fingers in the alleyway. I’ll watch the little ones, little ones. It’s story time, Jilo. Shhh.”

I let everything that happened afterwards consume it. Consume me.

“Qui-Gon doesn’t want me,” Obi-Wan said, so, so softly, his tone perfectly reasonable. Calm. “My fault. I’m not. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them. It’s okay. I want to… I want to go home. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “I want to go home.”

My Padawan.

With utmost care, Qui-Gon rose to his feet, feeling the floor sway beneath him as if he were at sea and not flying through hyperspace.

He went to the fresher and poured a glass of water and dampened a rag, carrying them both back to the beside. He set the glass on a table, and seated himself cautiously on the side of the bed, radiating as much calm as he could, trying to make his presence known through their training bond.

It must have worked, because Obi-Wan did not panic or flinch away from the person sitting beside him. Or perhaps he was simply too tired, delirious to the point of vacancy.

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand and gently pressed the boy back against his pillows, resting the cool cloth against his forehead once he had settled. He kept his hand there for awhile, and gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair with his thumb, watching the boy’s eyelids flicker as he began to doze, to dream.

With his other hand, Qui-Gon gently took one of Obi-Wan’s, holding it gently as if it were fragile, a treasure beyond price.

“Oh, my boy,” he whispered, and was not shocked to taste salt on his lips as he spoke. “Sleep now. When you wake, we will talk, I swear it. We’ll talk about everything. Anything you want.”

Obi-Wan continued to dream.

As he fell deeper into sleep, his fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon’s, and he did not let go.

fin.