#wasting second chances on trying to correct the past

[respectthepetty]

Both Ming and Joe are stuck in the past.

Wanting something they lost.

And being miserable about it.

But old habits die hard.

And love is a habit.

Which makes it the hardest to kill.

[tristaratops]

Second Chance AU Drabble

A Prologue

TW: Temporary Death

The boys died while trying to save Floyd. John wished for a chance to make it right. The stars decide to grant that plea.

John Dory liked to picture himself as an okay man. He was average at most things. He lived an okay life… towards the end of it. But everyone had a past, right? Didn’t everyone have regrets? Oh trolls… did not everyone have regrets like this? Oh no… he was a bad person. These were John’s thoughts as he was bleeding out on the ground.

John could feel himself getting colder. His eyes wanted to shut. No. He didn’t want to die. His head would barely move as he tried to look at his brothers. None of them were making it out of there. Not even…

‘Oh god… Branch,’ John thought as he saw his youngest brother. He was already gone or at least he wasn’t moving… John had failed everything. He failed to rescue Floyd. He failed his brothers. He failed. John slowly ripped his eyes away from Branch, his chest heaving in weak, heartbroken sobs. ‘Please… please, it wasn’t meant to be like this. It was meant to be a rescue mission. We were supposed to get our baby brother back.’

John kept thinking these thoughts as he stared up at the night sky above them that the stadium opened up to. And he noticed one star. It was stupid, but John started to say a wish in his heart to the lonesome star, feeling that this was going to be the last chance he had to think… anything.

‘I just need one chance,’ John started as he felt his eyes closing without his permission. ‘Please. I wish I had one more chance. I could fix this. I could fix everything. I just need one more chance.’

And with that… his eyes shut.

…

And they instantly blinked open.

John was standing upright and he could hear the murmurs of a crowd, the buzz in the air, and he’d been walking as he opened his eyes which set him off balance. With a startled sound he leaned against the wall, his legs sort of giving out on him as he adjusted to the new surroundings.

“Woah! John Dory!” John heard Bruce say with worry. Bruce? “Are you okay?”

John looked up and properly looked at his surroundings. He… he was staring at Spruce not Bruce. John could only stare in disbelief before looking past him. They… they were back. They were all okay! Even Floyd! And they… holy shit, had they always been that small at this age? They all looked like how they did the night of…

John’s gaze eventually settled on Bitty B. Bitty B. Not Branch… He was a baby again. It was the night of the first concert. And Bitty B looked like he had broken grandma’s good china. Oh god… how had John left him so easily?

John’s gaze shifted between everyone’s faces. They were all waiting for him to blow up or do something. The tension in the air… it was him. John’s throat tightened at the realization. This was it. This was his second chance. He had a second chance. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

“I’m okay, B-Spruce,” John corrected himself as he looked between his brothers. He cleared his throat slightly, his brothers still looking on at him. “Tonight was my fault. I am so sorry. Is everyone okay?”

The boys looked shocked at this reaction before slowly nodding. And they did look okay. Just shocked. No one… no one knew what to do now. The tension in the room has been almost sucked out of the room with a vacuum. So now John just had to stand there with his brothers’ gazes boring into him.

That was until Bitty B cleared his throat.

“John Dory…” His littlest brother started. “I’m sorry I ruined everything…”

“No! No, no, no,” John sighed as he quickly went to go hug his baby brother. “You didn’t. I did. For all my talk of being perfect, I decided to change the choreography. I messed up tonight. But uh… if we’re all okay… Do you guys think the crowd’s still out there?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?” Clay started, looking at his older brother skeptically.

“Let’s get back out there,” John said, smiling at Bitty B as he scooped him up. “Forget about the crowd. Let’s have fun with this. We’re already famous! So who cares! Fuck the perfect family harmony!”

“JD! Don’t curse when you are literally holding Bitty B!” Spruce chastised, but he was smiling. In fact all his brothers were smiling, from Bitty’s big smile to Clay’s hesitant but happy smirk. And John could feel his own face breaking out into a grin.

“Let’s go and salvage Branch’s first ever concert!” John Dory cheered as he quickly rushed back out with his brothers, their excitement palpable. Same with his own. John Dory had a second chance.

And he would rather die than waste it.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I wrote this a few months ago for Febuwhump...Day 13 I think? I was super excited about sharing it. But when my schedule got crazy I had to change my plans and didn't get a chance to post it.

So here it is now!

CW for blood, injury, vomiting, and torture (including sleep deprivation)

--------------

Another slap snaps Time’s head back, stinging across his face. Stars explode before him and turn the semi-darkness spotty. He grits his teeth against the rising tide of nausea.

“I asked you a question.” A wiry, whiskered man leans forward, malice glinting in his small, rat-like eyes. “And you will answer me.”

Time drags in a breath. The air is stale, tinged with the sickening iron scent of metal chains and his blood. His attackers loom over him, knuckles red from their assaults upon him, faces sneering.

He ignores them. He has seen quite enough of them, after all, in the past few days. And he doesn’t doubt that he will be seeing quite a bit more. 

He has no plans to give in anytime soon. It doesn’t matter how they pressure him, or how many torture methods they try. He will never give up one of their own.

“I told you,” he croaks, “I do not know anyone with the power to resurrect Ganon.”

A meaty fist grasps his shoulder, fingers digging into the stab wound there. Time just barely manages to bite off a scream. 

“Wrong answer!”

The man steps closer. The magic that emanates from him is all wrong. Upside down and inside out and not his own in the least. The people he has dragged it out of, stolen it from, cry out with every movement he makes. It is all Time can do not to gag as the sounds and smells of it smother him.

“I am a sorcerer– ” 

“You’re a thief and a coward,” Time spits. Fingers turn into a fist, slamming into his wound with a ferocity that makes him lightheaded. He hardly hears his own cry. 

“I am a sorcerer,” the man repeats. He grabs Time’s chin, forces his head up so he has no choice but to look at him. “One who has sworn his very life to the Demon King. I have the power to do what must be done. I will bring him back and help him take his rightful place as ruler of Hyrule. I need only for you to give me the answer I seek.”

A bitter smirk lifts Time’s lips, even as blood drains down from them. 

“Ganondorf would be ashamed to have a follower such as you. How long have you held me here now? Four days? And you have wasted that time on repeating the same question. Perhaps, you should use that skill with magic you pretend to possess and find another avenue to resurrect him. Because searching for someone who can do it for you is a fool’s errand.”

Another blow knocks his head back. It hits the damp stone wall with a nauseating crack. Time pitches forward, retching, and the wizard steps back and out of the way. 

“You are full of pride, hero,” he sneers. “You forget your place, you ignore your situation.”

Time skewers him with as severe a glare as he can muster. “I have not forgotten either. In fact, I know them quite well. Which is why I have told you the truth. No person exists with the blood that can resurrect Ganon.”

“Truth? What truth? You have done nothing except to mock me and spew lies.”

The sorcerer whirls away and a streak of flame zips through Time’s veins. He cannot restrain his harsh cry as agony washes over him. But just as quickly as it comes, it is gone. And he has a split second to drag in a few, desperate wheezing breaths. Then, the sorcerer begins to speak once more, every word like another assault. 

“You are correct in one way, however. I have consistently used the same methods to pry the words from you. No torture, whether by magic or physical harm, has moved you from your stance of silence.” He pauses, hand held to his chin in contemplation. “Perhaps, it is time to try another avenue. Bring in the other one.”

With a wave of one bony hand, his companions jolt into action, rushing from the room, and slamming the leaden door behind them. 

Time’s eye widens, fear slicing through him. He had thought he was the only one the thugs had captured. He had been alone, after all, scouting the far perimeters of the camp, when they had knocked him out. 

The sorcerer looks back at him, now, a sly grin stretching his wide mouth.

“Your little friend happened to spot us dragging you away and decided to try and be a hero. Fortunately, my little sleeping spell worked as effectively to knock him out as it did with you.”

The door slides open with an eerie creak and Time turns toward it, heart in his throat.  

“Ah.” The sorcerer sets a hand on his shoulder, fingernails digging through his tunic. “And there was another fortunate development for us. You well know that my spells are excruciating. Wonderful for convincing, to be certain. But you spared me the trouble of exerting too much magical energy on you two. You are quite the collector of masks, it seems. And while some were childish at best, others have proven…very useful.”

A familiar form stumbles over the threshold, wrists clasped in the unforgiving grip of manacles. His tunic and trousers are splotched with dirt and dried blood and his shoulders sag with exhaustion. His long, blonde hair has been freed from its hair band and falls limply forward to hide his features. But his ears peek through it and the sight of them makes Time’s stomach turn. 

They are encased in a prison of wiry black metal. Time would recognize that sight anywhere. 

“No,” he breathes.

Wild lifts his head and the leaden weight in Time’s gut twines itself tighter. 

The cage of unyielding obsidian extends to the rest of his face, curving in web-like strands across his cheeks and forehead. Eyes once the same shade as Malon’s are now blood red and rimmed in white. They stare wide and terrible, fixed in an expression of permanent horror. 

Despite it all, a shaky grin quirks Wild’s lips. 

“H-hey, old man,” he slurs, fumbling to keep his feet beneath him.

His captor practically drags him the rest of the way into the room. They hurl him down beside Time and he lands on the hard floor with a grunt. 

Laughter rings out, echoing off of the walls of the cell and Time drags his attention away from his cub to scowl at the wizard. The man meets his stare without fear.

“I don’t have to explain the implications of this little development to you, do I? You know full well what that horrid device of yours does.”

He turns away, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on his face. “It has been four days for him as well. Four without a wink of sleep. I wonder…how long can one go without slumber? I will leave you both to ponder that.”

The door screams as it is once again pulled open. And the sorcerer glides out in a rush of nauseating power and swishing robes.

“What a creep,” Wild mumbles, gazing at the spot where he had stood. He lists slightly to the side, bumping against Time’s uninjured shoulder. Time wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Have they truly forced you to wear that for four days?” He asks, worry turning his tone sharp. His own pain seems inconsequential now, the ache of his wounds a far-off thing. All that matters is the broken boy slumped against him.

Jerkily, Wild nods. A small sniffle sounds from beneath the mask. 

Time’s heart clenches. “Oh, cub, I’m so sorry.”

The champion shrugs, weakly. “Least it doesn’t…doesn’t put me to sleep. Rather be kept ‘wake.” He giggles, drunk on exhaustion, fighting against the tears Time hears in his voice. “And ‘sides…got hundred years of sleep under m-my belt. Gotta count…right? Be fine.”

With a sigh, he shifts, head slipping down to rest on Time. The harsh edges of the mask bite into his abused flesh. But he doesn’t move away. The least he can do is act as Wild’s makeshift pillow. 

If he could, he would tear the mask off of him and shatter it on the hard ground. But once the cursed thing has latched onto its victim’s face, only the one who put it there can remove it. And if the blood visible beneath its dark edges is any indication, Wild has already learned what happens to anyone else who attempts it.

“They hur-hurt you too,” the champion murmurs, after a pause. His tone is more somber now and fearful. Like a lost child, pleading with a parent for reassurance. “I…I can’t really see straight anymore but…they told me…they told me they were. ‘M sorry.”

Time shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, cub. I’m alright.”

Gently, he brushes Wild’s bangs back, trying not to wince as his fingertips touch icy metal rather than warm skin. The champion leans into his touch, curling up like the barn cats do when they are seeking warmth. Any other time, the older hero would find it amusing. Now, it only makes his heart ache.

“Can’t tell them,” Wild mumbles, barely audible now. “Can’t tell ‘bout Rule.”

Time draws in a trembling breath. “No.”

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to save his cub from this terrible fate. And by the goddesses, he is going to find them. Even if he has to burn the place down.

[minimarvelh]

At the breakfast Tony will give him a huge portion of pancakes with colourful cereals, which Stark calls "as if the elfs puked a rainbow at them", to which he will receive a light slap on the arm from Pepper and her famous disapproving look. „Don’t swear near the kid”

After the breakfast, Peter will probably ask Tony to watch SpongeBob with him, because it’s Saturday and he doesn’t have any school.

At first, Tony will saying in disgustingly exaggerated way that he has a lot of work to do and that actually it’s a kids show, but Peter, knowing better, will eventually drag him into the couch area, tug him in an octopus hug, glueing them together so that the Stark would have no chance to escape. Tony will have no choice but to defeatedly exhale, relaxing in the arms of his child and bury his arm into Peter’s curls.

The it will be already afternoon and pepper will probably cook miso soup, so Peter need as fast as possible try to make his homework.

So he’ll probably ask Tony to help him with physics, math, Spanish, English, literature..and, well, with everything.

Tony will probably complain about lazy teenagers in these days and how back then it was better. but he still will help.

Once they will end, Pepper will call them to eat.

Still quizzing a tired Peter on some probably history topics, will they sit down to lunch.

During lunch Pepper will tell hilarious stories from Tony's past while he will try to deny everything listening to the amusing Peter’s giggling.

After they will finish eating, Pepper would remind Tony about the papers he needed to look over and then she would go to take a bath.

Meanwhile, Peter will go to his room, impatiently calling the Ned and for about an hour losing connect with the reality, rambling about Star Wars fics.

After that, hanging up and entering the living room, Peter will find Tony lying on the sofa, glasses on his nose and a Satrkpad in his hands, who, most likely, will methodically going through some documents sent by Pepper.

Not wasting any seconds looking at his domestic mentor, Peter will take the remote and lie down next to Tony, one leg draped over him, the other rummaging around the floor scrolling Netflix.

Chances are, if Peter will hug him, watching Horseman Bojack, Tony will lose all of his concentration hugging his kid next to him and eventually to Pepper’s future dissatisfaction, will become invested in series and will forget about said documents.

After their snuggling Tony will go and make them hoc chocolate, while Peter will explain to him everything about fan fiction.

Tony probably wants to know about it more.

Then Pepper will come and talk about their plans on Sunday which will end Peter pleading Pepper to watch new “Star Wars: the Clone wars” and how can Pepper say now to these big brown puppy eyes?

It’s impossible.

So the rest of the day they will eat popcorn and watch Stat wars, until pepper would remind them that they will still need to eat dinner. Time will complain that he is adult and if he doesn’t want you to eat dinner he will not. But at the end they will order some Thai food.

While waiting for the order to arrive Tony and Peter will likely go to the workshop where Tony will look at the diagrams, making some corrections while Peter will talk and pet dum-e, calling him good boy.

30 minutes later Pepper will call them to eat and they will go and eat together, talking about their plans for the week.

After that they will return to their laying activity and will end up watching the whole season of that show.

Tony will argue about the illogicality and the holes of the plot, while Peter will vehemently refute his comments.

Will 99,9% chances Pepper will stroke Peter’s hair whispering him that he did today a good job.

Most likely, Peter will fall asleep next to Pepper with his legs at Tony lulled by the warmth of two adults, with whom he feel the safest he’s ever felt.

Most likely, Tony will not want to wake the kid and will slid his hands under Peter’s body and carry him across the couch into his chest right to the kid’s bedroom, tucking his blanket and kissing forehead.

Which will make Peter whine at the loss of contact and he will probably slip “dad”, which lately has been slipping into his speech more and more often, especially when he is sleepy.

But each time it sounded like the first time for Tony as he will held his breath and his heart will race and race.

"I'm here bambino," will Tony whisper, kissing Peter again and stroking his hand, staying in the room until the kid finally falls asleep.

Then Tony will go into the living room, where a little bit drowsy Pepper will smile tiredly at him and the two of them will go into the bedroom.

In the morning, Peter will wake up and first thing will head into the kitchen area, where Tony will greet him, kissing his forehead while the kid wraps his arms around him like a koala. Then he will do exactly the same with Pepper, getting at least a million kisses from her giggling as the woman playfully kisses his cheeks, forehead, curls smiling at the kid.

At the breakfast Tony will give him a huge portion of pancakes with colourful cereals, which Stark calls "as if the elfs puked a rainbow at them", to which he will receive a light slap on the arm from Pepper and her famous disapproving look.

I really don’t know what is it hahah

[spell-cleaver]

AU where luke overhears owen and beru talking about how his father is darth vader. luke, who is still kinda ignorant about how bad the empire is but knows they're evil, sets out to save his father. A few months later, Darth Vader is kidnapped by an Imperial engineer :)

Read it on AO3 or on FFN instead!

Vader knew the stowaway was there before he even got onto the shuttle. The troops who were meant to accompany him on his diplomatic mission to Tatooine stood to attention when he strode into the hangar and didn’t dare to question him when he waved them away. They could take a different shuttle.

He was bored. He was angry. If he had to spend the afternoon negotiating with Jabba rather than simply rolling into Hutt Space with the Imperial Navy and taking what he wanted, then he would at least spend the morning finding out what pathetic sort of trap this was and crushing it. The presence on board was clearly Force-sensitive: was this an attempt by the dregs of the Jedi to assassinate him? He would enjoy putting it—and the stowaway—to rest.

So, pretending not to have noticed the presence, he sat down in the pilot’s seat and smoothly took off from the hangar, feeling his troopers’ baffled stares after him. They would follow in a transport soon after. He wanted to have this chance, first. The presence sparked with joy and excitement when they took off: the Jedi must think their plan was succeeding.

It wasn’t long before the trap he was waiting for was sprung. The controls of the shuttle started to wobble, and their trajectory pitched to the right. Vader growled. Their current course would take them away from Mos Eisley, towards the Jundland Wastes and towards…

His mother’s grave.

The autopilot was engaged. That was exactly where they were taking him, when he checked: the programme had been fed coordinates that Vader well-remembered inputting once before, in another life. When he made to override it, the navicomputer beeped at him angrily.

Passcode protected. Vader spent a scant thirty seconds trying to break through, but the Jedi’s tech skills were at least passable. He could work at it harder and correct their course, but first he wanted to see what plan they had shoved into actions.

He stood from the pilot’s seat and looked behind him. In a lambda shuttle, there should be nowhere to hide. There was the cockpit, the engine room, and the hold, where both cargo and troopers would be stored. Nowhere else should be large enough to hide a humanoid.

The cockpit was empty other than for him, and to enter he had had to come through the cargo hold. That left the engine room—but at a first glance, that was empty too.

A challenge then. And one with a time limit, before they reached his mother’s grave and whatever nefarious plot this was came to full fruition. He let rage soak his chest, lit his lightsaber, and stalked forwards.

“I know you are here, Jedi,” he boomed. “What game do you think this is?”

A flicker in the Force—almost like a giggle. Vader snapped his gaze around the engine room and peered behind the engine itself. Wires tangled in and out of his peripheral vision, tubes interlocked throughout like a grid, but the Force saw clearly. The Jedi was directly behind—

He stopped. He’d reached the back of the room. There was only a metal wall.

He reached out to rap his fist against the wall.

The resounding echo was hollow. The Force betrayed the wince and discomfort from the Jedi, but more importantly, his own ears betrayed the moment when they started scrambling through this vent they’d found to hide in and ran.

Darth Vader was never going to let his prey escape. He drove his lightsaber into the rigid metal like it was water and slashed down. The Jedi screamed. Vader slashed along the other side, uncaring as to whether he amputated a limb, or a head, or a torso, and the metal buckled and bent as he seized the Force in his fist and flung it backwards.

The panel slammed past him, into one of the metal tubes throughout the engine room, and clattered to the ground in a twisted, charred mess. The Jedi tumbled out of the vent in the wall to land at Vader’s feet. He didn’t have the time to lift his chin before the edge of Vader’s blade lingered at his throat.

The Jedi was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, so the Imperial engineer’s uniform he was wearing was laughable: it was several sizes too large for him, and it horrified Vader to think that his men could have let such an obvious imposter infiltrate the Devastator without noticing. Heads would roll for their incompetence. The boy’s hair was long and shaggy, as sun-bleached and yellowed as bones forgotten in a desert. His pale eyes moved slowly along the length of Vader’s lightsaber, from one line of smoke that snaked up from his uniform collar where the blade was at his throat, to the other line of smoke that rose from where the tip of the blade punctured the floor.

“What did you hope to achieve by this, Jedi?” Vader spat. “Why are you taking me here?”

The boy swallowed, set his jaw, and glanced up at Vader. “To bring you home,” he said earnestly.

Vader extinguished his lightsaber. The boy didn’t have time to telegraph his relief on his face before Vader telegraphed his rage on his face instead. Feeling cartilage crunch under his durasteel fists was a satisfying sort of violence, second only to seeing someone squirm in mid air as they realised how fragile their grip on oxygen was. Vader lowered his fist, and the boy’s knees rammed into the floor. He spluttered blood.

“What?” he asked. “I—”

Vader seized him by the throat. The boy stopped talking. His nose twisted in on itself like an ingrown jogun, and his cheekbone didn’t exactly look straight, either. He audibly gulped—for air, perhaps, as the blood blocked up the access through his nose, though his terror was a sudden bright, sharp thing.

It cut Vader to the bone in an instant. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want to.

“This,” Vader hissed, his fury crashing like cymbals through his helmet, through the Force, until the boy looked dazed from the experience of it, “is not my home.”

“But—”

Vader threw him. In the engine room, there were many things to hit, and he hit at least three of them. His head slammed into a pipe, his spine into another one, and his foot even crunched with unpleasant finality against the thrumming engine itself. He lay limp on the floor. Consciousness flickered out for him for a moment—but only for a moment. Vader reached out to seize him and drag him back to the waking world with an ease that surprised even him.

He was not yet finished.

“What do you know?” he demanded, stalking forwards. The boy jerked sluggishly upright, staring blearily at him—then scrambled backwards as fast as he could. “Where did you find out—”

The boy got to his feet and made a run for the door, back to the corridor. Vader indulged him: he made it to the doorway of the cockpit before Vader seized his neck with the Force and yanked him into the air, kicking and lashing out. A hand gouged deep scratches in his throat, as if he could unpick Vader’s grip on him, Vader’s grip on the Force, Vader’s grip on reality and the truth of how he had lived for nearly sixteen years. It did nothing. A strangled cry was all that escaped Vader’s chokehold.

Vader stopped in front of him and quieted himself to speak almost calmly. “Where,” he said, voice still with promise, “did you find out about this place?”

The shuttle set down with a resounding thud. They had landed. Vader didn’t bother glancing out of the viewport: it would be the same desert, the same worthless farm, and nothing of import would ever be found there again.

The boy was trying to speak. Vader gritted his teeth—if he did not control his frustration, he would kill him and lose any chance of discovering what the Jedi knew about Skywalker’s past—and loosened his grip.

Tears streamed down the boy’s face. They cut through the mangled mess of blood left behind from Vader’s attack. White bone gleamed in his cheek.

“I…” he got out. “Live here.”

That was unexpected—and insulting.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would the Jedi settle here?” His mother had remarried, had she not? Perhaps whatever farmers had dared to monopolise her affection had decided to throw in their lot with random Jedi, in memorial to the Jedi who had failed to save her from her fate…

“Not. A Jedi.”

“Not a Jedi?” Vader tightened his grip again, and the boy’s cry was near-silent. “Your presence is unmistakeable. Who are you, what do you know, and what do you intend by bringing me here?”

He loosened the grip to let him speak.

“Skywalker,” the boy said.

Vader threw him into the viewport. The whipcrack of his skull against transparisteel was also satisfying. He slid down onto the console, several functions of the ship whirring into action as he landed on them.

A cool breeze blew through the cockpit—increased circulation. He’d opened the vents, and the eddies blew his hair back from his face, so that his eyes were clear and uncovered when he locked them on Vader’s mask and finished, “Luke Skywalker.”

Vader’s fist froze halfway to closing.

“I’m—not a Jedi.” He coughed; Vader could see the muscles in his throat spasming from here. “Don’t know what that is.”

Vader lifted a finger. “You—”

“Thought you were my father.” Luke’s eyes spilled fresh tears down his cheek. Down his soft, ruined cheek. “Must’ve been wrong.”

When Vader reached out to connect to that Force presence, as powerful as any Jedi’s but—now—blaringly obviously untrained, he felt it settle somewhere in his chest. Pain followed. Pain, he was used to, but not this pain.

“You are Anakin Skywalker’s son,” Vader said.

“Overheard my aunt and uncle saying you were… him. Empire’s evil. Like Hutts. Thought you’d be… a slave again.” His head lolled, the effort of keeping it up clearly gargantuan. “Didn’t realise you’d be a Hutt.”

“What do you mean by that?” Vader snapped. Luke flinched. “I am here to negotiate with Jabba, to destroy him if necessary—”

“I came to save you,” Luke muttered. “Didn’t—didn’t even let me explain…”

“You were a stowaway on my ship! What sort of naïve, ignorant child are you? Have you no concept of danger? Of violence?”

“Didn’t expect a Hutt,” Luke muttered again. “Seen them get violent, but—”

“I am not a Hutt!”

Luke didn’t respond—because he didn’t want to, or because he couldn’t, Vader didn’t know. He just kept looking up at Vader through pale lashes, head lolling without the strength to be lifted.

“Thought you were my father,” he said.

“I am your father.”

Luke closed his eyes, then. A thin wisp of a sigh wheezed from his lips. “Oh.”

Vader stormed up and towered over him. “You are a fool,” he hissed. His finger sprang out to jab in his face. “You—”

Luke flinched and turned his face away.

Vader’s tirade stumbled to a halt.

“Maybe,” Luke mumbled. “Dunno what I was thinking.”

But Vader knew what Luke was thinking. It was written into Luke’s thoughts, projected into his mind like a slide-by-slide presentation. It was something that Vader would never, ever have considered. He had never thought he’d get away without being caught. He’d just trusted his father, a man he loved without knowing him, not to hurt him.

He'd had no idea how capable his father was of violence. Now, though…

Now he knew it intimately.

“You require medical assistance,” Vader said awkwardly.

Luke coughed. “Probably can’t afford it.”

“I will provide it.”

“You don’t have to. I…” His heart was audibly breaking. “I get it.”

“You most certainly do not.”

“I—”

“You do not have a choice.” Vader moved for the comlink set into the console and typed in the frequency for his personal medic on the Devastator. “You will require urgent attention if you are to be saved.”

Luke snorted. “I came here… to save you.”

“You cannot save me, Luke,” Vader said. “What was done to me, and what I have done, is written in blood. Anakin Skywalker is dead. You are not.”

Luke cracked his eye open to peer at Vader for a moment, just as his personal medic responded. “No,” he said, almost with amusement. “I’m not.”

Vader wouldn’t realise what that meant until later.

Later, when they returned to the Devastator, and Vader realised a few minutes into Luke’s surgery that he had to get painkillers or anaesthetics for Luke, because Vader’s own droids were not equipped to provide them. He ran for the first time in over a decade, because he could not interrupt the surgery, but Luke was screaming, screaming, screaming, and the sound tattooed itself on his eardrums. He heard it even as he sat in the chair beside Luke in the medbay and watched his sleeping son.

Anakin Skywalker was dead. He had long since been exposed to the violence of the galaxy, the betrayal it was capable of, and he had returned it tenfold.

But because of him, Luke Skywalker was not.

Vader had long since lost any innocence. He had torn it from the hearts of civilians in his campaigns. He had beaten a lot of Luke’s out of him, as well. But not all of it.

Protecting someone had never been something Vader cared about. Even the Empire was not something Vader protected; it was something he served. But after all he had done, Vader would crawl through another universe of torment to sit at his son’s bedside and listen to the beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor assure him that he still lived.

Luke had wanted to bring him home. He had succeeded in that, at least.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Unsealed Skies (6)

AN: The gif is not mine - I found it on google. Credits to the original owners of the gif.

Warnings: injury, mentions of insecurity and past infidelity, and violence.

Growing up, your mother had often said that your level of stubbornness rivalled your father’s and for the first time in many years, you considered the possibility that she was correct.  As the shadows grew and the daylight faded, you remained hidden within the depths of the forest.  You knew that you were being childish but you were past the point of caring.

Your thoughts continually circled around the moment that you had found Ares and Aphrodite entangled in the sheets.  There was no denying that the goddess was beautiful; many deities were but it was Ares’ unwavering confidence when he informed you that this was to be a common, expected occurrence when the both of you were married that buzzed around in your mind.

The air grew still and cold, distracting you from your memories.  There was an echoing crack and growling sounded close to you.  As you cautiously rose from a sitting position into a standing one, you glimpsed a massive blue blur rushing through the forest, moving far quicker than its size would have you believe it was capable of.

“How did one of them find their way to Midgard?

The last time a bilgesnipe had been sighted on Asgard, it had taken the considerable efforts of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three to subdue it.  You did not have your brother’s strength or his allies so it would be reckless to engage the beast directly.  But maybe you could return it magically to Jotunheim and spare the inhabitants of Midgard unnecessary pain.

Once again, you found yourself having to reveal your location to protect others.  “This is becoming an all too familiar occurrence.”

You could hear the bilgesnipe continuing to crash around in the forest and after you inhaled deeply, you grabbed its attention by using your powers to levitate a bunch of rocks and through them at the rampaging beast.

The bilgesnipe let out an insulted bellow.  It changed direction immediately and sprinted towards you with its sides heaving.  Up close, the beast was admittedly impressive.  It stood taller than Slepnir with four powerful, muscled legs that ended in paws tipped with razor sharp claws.  Its heavy tail swung from side to side knocking down the trees in its path.  By contrast, the beast’s eyes were small, red, and dim as it relied on its other senses during the hunt for prey.

As you stood opposite the beast, you remembered a story of your grandfather trying to ride a bilgesnipe in his youth.  The bilgesnipe snorted, revealing its pointed fangs and sharp teeth but as you made no move to attack it, the tail of the beast stopped swinging to and fro.

You were just about to speak to the beast and explain your plan when it charged towards you.  You ducked out of the way but its fangs scraped your knuckles causing you to wince at the sudden pain and cold.  With your uninjured hand, you created a shimmering vision of Jotunheim.  The beast wasted no time and ran directly at it.  The image didn’t harm the beast as it passed through and it winked out of existence the second that the beast’s tail had left the forest.

Gasping for breath and from pain, you chanced a look at your injured knuckles and wished you hadn’t.  They were badly grazed and there were dots of blue around the outside of the grazes.   Despite your talent at healing magic, you had used a good portion of it recently and your magic needed time to recharge.

You could heal the blue dots that decorated your skin with no worries but you wouldn’t have enough magic left to heal the grazes and the longer you stayed in the forest, the more danger you would be putting yourself in.

With another sigh, you waved your hand over your injured knuckles, and just as you had anticipated, the blue dots vanished and the cuts remained.  With no other option, you made your way back to the refuge.

[yumeasmrscript]

[Part 7] The Wizard tries to lift your curse [M4A] [Fantasy] [Neko Listener] [Potion Making] [Fluff] [Comfort] [Kiss]

Author notes:

I’m sorry, it’s been a while-- but I’m finally back with part 7! Things are about to end here, but how? Will the Wizard succeed in lifting the listener’s curse? I guess, we’ll see in part 8, the last one!

As always, feel free to make edits for sfx or text if you want, as long as the characters/story stay the same! English is not my first language, so if you read things that sounds weird, feel free to fix it however you like it. You are allowed to monetize and paywall, as long as you provide me with a copy of the audio!

Summary: After spending many days studying a way to lift your curse, the Wizard has found a way that could potentially work but, if things go wrong, it could be the end for both of you. Which, you’re not really enthusiast about. The last thing you want is put the Wizard in danger, after all, but… this one could be the only way.

[Action/things happening/Moods]

Thinking/emphasis on words

____________

[Tired] Alright. After long nights spent studying this grimoire, after long nights spent trying out potions, I think… I think I might have found a way. I’m not sure but, that... could really work.

[Worried] It’s… risky. And there’s no guarantee that it will actually lift their curse, but… there’s nothing else that can work. A metamorphosis like that cannot be reversed, even if they turn into a cat and I tried a counter-curse to bring them back to human form, they could just… be a complete different person. When the curse will be completed and they’ll turn into a cat, that would completely erase who they are now, and there’s no way to stop that. Unless, I do this and…

[Sigh]

But if it doesn’t work… No, no, I need to be optimistic. [Hopeful] This has to work. I won’t accept a failure. Hell, I’m a Wizard, magic flows in my veins. There’s no way this won’t work.

But still. Even if I do everything in the correct way, if it’s too late for this spell… then I did all for nothing.

The sun is about to set… I’m so glad they have been working on the front shop in the past few days. It’s all thanks to them if I was able to put all of my focus on this. I… don’t want to waste any more time. I can’t wait until tomorrow, because… any seconds more we wait, it lessens the chances for the spell to succeed the way it should.

And I definitely need their help too in preparing the potions… hopefully, it won’t take too long.

[The Wizard leaves the basement and goes upstairs, sfx for footstep on stairs]

[Sweet] Thank you for your help, Kitty. Let’s close the shop for today, I need a hand in getting some things done in my study… Can you please go downstairs with me and help me make a couple of potions?

Oh, no, it’s not for clients, it’s… Well, I’ll explain it to you later.

Great, thank you. I always appreciate your help, Kitty. I’ll be there in a second, let me lock the door.

[Sfx as the Wizard locks the front door]

[Whispered, thinking out loud] Sigh… please, let this spell work. I… I don’t want to lose them.

Before going downstairs, though, I need to get one string of their hair. I’m sure I’ll find some on their pillow… I can’t ask them directly. I highly doubt they would agree to try this spell and help me prepare the potions if they knew my goal… But this seems to be the only way to help them. I’ll… tell them later.

[The wizard goes upstairs, sounds of fabric as the wizard retrieves the listener’s string of hair from their pillow]

There we go. [Sigh] Come on, take a deep breath. You can do this. You can save them. Everything will turn out fine.

[The wizard goes in the basement]

[Focused] Alright, so: I need you to work on two base potions. While you pound the silver root on the mortar, I’ll take care of the other ingredients.

Let me see…

[The Wizard turns a few pages on a book, as the listeners starts working at the mortar]

Starroot essence, yes… I should have this one ready. Right… [looking for the ingredient among some glass bottles] here. And there’s also the crystallized moon water, and the ash of a phoenix feather.

First, I need to melt the moon water… then the ash is added little by little, and….

[Apologetic] ...I’m sorry I make you do all the boring stuff, Kitty. I would take care of that if I could, but you know better than me that if we pound the silver root in advance, it wouldn’t work the same way.

Are you sure you don’t mind?

[Chuckle] [Cheerful] Hey, that’s so mean! I can do that too! Maybe I’m not as meticulous as you are, but I’ve been making potions for months and months now.

What- Hey, if you have the energy to make fun of me like that, use that to extract all the essence from the silver root. [Chuckle] I’ve been making less and less mistakes now with potions, I’m getting better!

That’s not tr- well, maybe it’s true that it’s because you’re helping me but-

[Sigh] Jeez, just get those base potions ready! [Chuckle]

[Sweet] I must admit though, it feels better working on these things with you here. I’m not saying I didn’t like it before, I wouldn’t have become a Wizard otherwise, but… not doing all of this on my own, it’s more fun.

[Pause]

Well, that’s because hiring an assistant it’s not that easy when you’re not great at all of the things you do. I’m still a novice in the magic field, compared to other wizards. I wouldn’t be able to pay their work and I highly doubt that they would accept living here as a payment... like you do.

True, I give you all of the extras we earn, but an assistant wouldn’t be happy with just that. So…

Aw, thank you. I know I can always count on you. It… makes me truly happy that you’re willing to help me. You were a wizard’s assistant too, after all…. I’m very lucky to have you here, Kitty. My job is so much easier thanks to you.

[Small pause]

Well, is the root ready?

Great, I’ll make the water boil, so we can get the base ready. In the meantime, could you get me from the small greenhouse the dragon orchid sap? Thank you.

[Footsteps as the listener goes upstairs]

[Almost a whisper] And while they’re gone… I need one string of my hair, dissolving into the moon water as it comes in contact with it.

[Sfx as the Wizard takes one string of hair and puts it into the mixture]

And for the expulsion potion, I have all of the ingredients ready.

...As for the absorption potion I need-

[Surprised] Oh, you’re back! Thank you, you can add it to the base mix you prepared.

[Flat] We’re almost done, you can pour the mix into two different ampules. I just need to take the ground scale of a basilisk and-

[Worried] What… what do you mean?

I, uhm… [Sigh] [Sad] Don’t look at me like that. Yes, it’s true, these ingredients are for those two potions. I guess I was… underestimating your knowledge in potions. I’m sorry I haven’t told you that right away, but... see? [Worried] Look at how you just reacted! This was exactly why I didn’t want to tell you until both potions were ready!

Well, I don’t care if you don’t want to give me one of your hair, I already got one from your pillow. Please, Kitty. This is the only way.

[Slightly upset, but gentle] Well, I don’t want to lose you either. And if we don’t do something, that’s exactly what’s going to happen! Trust me, I wish there was another way. I know this is risky but that’s the only thing we can do. A counter-curse to share your curse is the only thing that could work.

Please, listen to me! Stop shouting like that! If we cast this spell and we balance perfectly your curse in both our bodies before it’s too late... before the curse affected yours too much that even when shared in ours we would both be damned… then the curse would affect us so little that it will reverse on it’s own in both our bodies, and we’ll both be human again. The potions should help my body to accept the curse and yours to get rid of it.

[Sigh] [Angry/sad] The more time you spend arguing with me, the less chance we’ll have to make this work, Kitty! Why don’t you understand?! I don’t want to lose you! And, no, I’m not going to sacrifice myself either just to leave you alone in an empty house with me as a cat.

Listen to me, I love magic. I’ve always wanted to become a wizard, and I reached my goal. But I’ve been so alone all this time, until I met you, Kitty. [Sweet] No one else made me feel this… happy. My days are so much brighter with you here. And I can’t bare the thought of not having you around anymore.

If I have to choose between being alone once again in a world where you’re not in it or sharing your same fate, I’d much rather take the risk of being a cat with you and leave all of my life behind.

[Upset again] To hell with magic, potions and spells. To hell with all of it, damn it! You are much more important to me. And just like you don’t want to lose me, I don’t want to lose you. And it doesn’t have to go wrong! Maybe with this spell everything will be fine and you’ll be free of your curse, you will be able to live your life without worries anymore. [Gentle] I beg you, Kitty. Let me try this. Let me share your fate, whatever it will be.

[Relieved sigh] Thank you. Now, let’s finish those potions, shall we?

[Flat] The mixture I prepared before goes in one ampule, the ground scale and the starroot essence on the other one. Your hair goes last, and… it dissolved. Now, as they cool down, I’ll prepare the magic circle for the counter-curse. For that, I’ll need my white chalk, and…

[Pause of a few seconds as the Wizard draws the circle on the floor]

Alright, so, there are two ways to cast the counter-course. We both need to be inside of this circle, after drinking the potions. And after chanting the spell, we need to… connect our bodies, so that your curse can flow into mine. There are two ways to do that, and one is holding hands by making a cut on both our right palms, just like when you sign a magic contract. For that, I can use this other potion to numb our hands so that it won’t hurt, and I also got this-

Huh? The other method? Oh, uhm, it’s… not that important, so-

[Sigh] [Slightly flustered] Well, the other one is actually… sharing a kiss. I mean I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or something since there’s still the other way so-

[Surprised] Wait, are you… sure? Do you really want to do this… this way? Are you okay with… kissing me?

That shy nod… I didn’t think that… No, no, I shouldn’t see a secret meaning. I mean, I guess it’s pretty normal choosing a kiss over a cut on the palm.

Okay, then. We’ll use that method. Anyway, the connection between our bodies must last the time necessary to balance your curse. If it’s too little, nothing will change. What I’d get wouldn’t be enough to affect my body, and your situation would remain the same. If it’s too much, on the contrary, we’ll switch our fate.

[Sweet] What are you saying, Kitty? I already told you: you are important to me. More… more thank you think. And I’m willing to risk my humanity if it means I have the chance to save you.

[Sigh] No, we don’t have the time to find another way.

[Kind, reassuring] Hey… We will be okay, don’t look at me like that. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll share the curse and one day we’ll live a wonderful cat life together, but I want to be optimistic. I want to believe that this will work, and that you will be human again.

[Pause]

Are you ready?

Okay. First, let’s drink the potions we’ve made.

[Sfx as they drink the potion]

...Yeah, it’s not the tastiest thing I’ve ever had. [Trying to cheer the listener] We might drink some tea later to make up for it, don’t you think?

[Chuckle]

Now… step inside the circle with me. ...Come a little bit closer.

[Heartbeats]

I’ll cast the counter-course now. [Caring] Are you absolutely sure you want to do it this way?

[Heartbeats]

I won’t be able to stop until the spell is completed, so…

[Heartbeats]

...Okay. I’ll be able to feel the curse leaving your body as it flows in mine, so I know when it will be balanced enough to stop. Just… keep your eyes closed until it’s done.

[Heartbeats]

[Chanting the spell in a flat tone] “In moonlit silence, where shadows grow... [Heartbeats] from one heart to another... the curse must flow”.

[The Wizard kisses the listener for a few seconds]

[Pause as the Wizard interrupt the kiss]

[Sightly worried] Did… did it work?

[Calm] Ah… yeah, it did. I can already feel the tail, and… look at my claws.

Alright, let’s step out of the circle.

[Sweet] Hey, hey… Shh. Here, let me wipe away those tears. There’s no reason to cry, Kitty. It will be okay, I promise you. With the curse shared, we finally have a chance that it will reverse on its own. And… if it’s too late for that…

[The Wizard hugs the listener]

I still won’t leave you alone. I’ll… hold you close to me, just like I’m doing now. Either in human or in cat form.

[The Wizard strokes the listener’s back]

Don’t feel guilty, please. I did this because I wanted to. [The Wizard tries to talk as the listeners keeps apologizing over and over] No, don’t apologize, Kitty- Hey, no- that’s not- Don’t say sorry, you don’t- Jeez, will you listen to- [Sigh]

[The Wizard kisses the listener again to calm them]

[Slightly playful, but still sweet] Will you finally keep quiet now, for a little bit?

[Small pause]

[Chuckle] Your red cheeks are adorable, you know that? Does caressing them like this make you feel better?

[Slightly shy] No, no... that wasn’t part of the spell. I kissed you because… [Sigh] [Sweet] I simply wanted to, and you weren’t listening to me at all.

We’ll see if this worked the way it should in the next days, or even weeks, for all I know. So… let’s just go on with our lives, and see what will happen in the future. If luck is on our side, one day we will both wake up as humans again.

[Chuckle] [Gentle] I can’t say no to that. We can sleep on the same bed tonight too, Kitty. Tomorrow too, if you want. And the day after too. And… [Playful] well, if you wanted to hear me purr, you could have asked that directly!

[More strokes]

[Sweet] Is it better now? I know stroking your back and hair is soothing for you, so… don’t be afraid, Kitty, trust me. It will be okay. You’ll never be alone again. And whatever happens, whatever you’ll go through… I’ll be right beside you, until the very end.

[fatbiscuit]

Lunar Plush AU Part Seven. This is the seventh chapter of a collaborative AU with Ultimawolffox.

Part 7: Negotiations 

A couple of uneventful days passed since my escape attempt was thwarted. I have not tried to escape again, but Bloodmoon could tell that, during intervals between activities, I kept glancing back towards my little blocked off escape route. He observed this natural occurrence for a few days, till one evening he eventually decided to ask.

“Why do you keep trying to escape?” Bloodmoon asked suddenly.

“Well,” I start to think, “It is not very safe here.”

“We know but, we won’t let Ruin destroy you.”

“Plus, Lunar might be worried about and miss me,” I added logically.

“Maybe Lunar misses you, but maybe he doesn’t. He already has plenty of siblings! We would miss you if you left.” the second Bloodmoon exclaimed.

“You do know that, right?” the first Bloodmoon voice questioned.

I was not expecting him to actually say that. I only recently started thinking that might secretly be the case, but to hear them outright say it. I guess it makes sense that they would miss their entertainment, but maybe there was more to it than that. I don’t know.

“What if Lunar no longer cared about you? What if they never come for you, what would you do then?” 

“I suppose,” I start, hesitate, then after a moment continue. “I guess, if that really were the case, I would stay here for the moment, but probably not forever.”

This seemed to satisfy Bloodmoon for the moment, but I feel like this would probably not be the end of this conversation.

“Why do you stay?” I offhandedly asked, curious as to his reasoning. “Do you like it here?”

“Ruin does have some uses,” the calmer Bloodmoon replied matter of factly. 

The energetic voice added on a bit regretfully, “Besides where else would we go?”

I was about to continue the conversation, but Bloodmoon cut me off by saying, “Goodnight.”

It has become a bit of a thing to say goodnight before now, ever since I first said it a few days ago. 

I decide it is best not to push the matter, since he does not seem like talking. So I just say back, “Goodnight,” and try to go to sleep thinking.

It was nighttime when Lunar finally found the ruined Pizza-plex with help from Sun and Moon. Earth had thought that it could be Ruin and Bloodmoon’s hideout. He hopes that she was correct.

Sun and Moon offered to cause a distraction while Earth and Lunar sneak in to look for Luna. They both started to make a scene looking for Ruin and asking to talk, which seemed to get Ruin’s attention but Bloodmoon did not come out of the hideout. 

They were supposed to sneak inside once the coast was clear, but… Lunar really does not want to waste this opportunity to look for Luna, he is not even sure if she would still be alive at this point. He waited a moment longer, then decided to take a chance and head in.

“Are you sure about this, Lunar?” Earth asked.

“We can’t just leave her trapped in there,” Lunar answered decisively. He then, as if to reassure himself, added, “Besides, we do not even know if Bloodmoon is home.”

Lunar started to carefully make his way inside with Earth following nervously after him.

As he and Earth entered they stayed close to the walls and made their way to hide behind a barrel in order to be able to assess the surroundings. It was rather poorly lit, but Lunar could make out a stage, what looked like an empty ball pit, some form of broken play structure, and he saw- It was Bloodmoon, it seems like he and Earth were not that lucky after all. What was he doing? He was near what seemed to be a cage, a leash, a food dish, and a cat bed. He seemed to be glancing anxiously between the door and the bed.

They would need to get closer to know for sure, but Lunar began to believe that the bed had to be where Luna was being kept. This thought filled him with both relief and worry. Lunar would be very glad to know that Luna was still alive, but he was worried about how he was going to be able to get past Bloodmoon in order to get to Luna. He really hopes Luna is okay. He felt that they had already taken way too long to get back to Luna. It had taken weeks to find the Ruined Pizza-plex and come up with a decent plan. Now he needed to deal with Bloodmoon. 

Lunar leaves the barrel quickly in order to not let Earth stop him from leaving. He knows this is probably a dangerous and stupid plan, but they were running out of time, who knows when Ruin would come back. Ruin returned they would have twice as many problems to worry about. So, Lunar started to walk along the walls and planned to reach Luna from behind the bed. He made it only part ways along the wall when he was spotted by Bloodmoon. Lunar started to run towards Luna, but Bloodmoon cut him off.

“What are you doing here, Lunar?” Bloodmoon’s first voice asked in a low tone. 

“I need to get Luna!” Lunar answered angrily.

“Leave this place, unless you wish to die!” the second voice added in a slightly louder more demanding tone.

“I am not leaving without Luna,” Lunar said defiantly.

“How about a deal?” Bloodmoon’s calmer voice offered quietly. 

Neither Bloodmoon wanted Luna to wake up, because they did not want her to know that Lunar had finally come for her. 

“What?” Lunar asked, confused. He decided to human Bloodmoon with conversation because he could see Earth start to sneak towards Luna.

Bloodmoon wanted to get Lunar as far away from Luna as possible.

“You leave Luna here and we promise not to attack you,” Bloodmoon explained.

“I am not just going to give you Luna,” Lunar indignantly declared.

“Why do you think Luna would want you to get her?” Bloodmoon asked. “It has already been weeks since she left you.”

Lunar got an idea.

“She did not leave, you kidnapped her!” Lunar interjected. He knew that he should not make Bloodmoon mad, but he thought that he would be able to stall if he interrupted Bloodmoon whenever possible.

“What did you do? All you did was watch it happen and did nothing,” Bloodmoon calmer voice said coldly. “You were not capable of keeping her safe, but we will be.” 

The second voice added, “She has a bed here, receives candy and goldfish for food, and is safe, why would she want to leave? What could you offer?”

What could I offer? Lunar’s thoughts echoed indignantly.

“It is not like you have much of a choice, if you try to take her, you will die,” the first Bloodmoon voice declared. “If you leave we will allow you and your family to live. Now leave!”

“No,” Lunar replied sternly. He did not want to leave without seeing Luna first.

“What was that?” asked the calmer Bloodmoon, starting to lose their patience.

“I said No!” Lunar shouted back. 

This made Bloodmoon mad. Lunar tried to dodge, but Bloodmoon managed to grab him and was about to attack when- 

“Wait!” a familiar voice shouted.

Both Bloodmoon and Lunar turned towards the location of the sound and saw Luna with Earth close by.

Bloodmoon did not want Luna to know that Lunar had finally come for her. They feared that Luna would choose to leave them if she knew, but now she was awake.

I was having weird dream about Bloodmoon and Lunar arguing. I was woken up by the sound of someone shouting “No!”. I poked my head out of my bed and saw Lunar being attacked by Bloodmoon. I then realized that my dream was not really a dream at all. Bloodmoon was about to hit Lunar, so I instantly shouted wait. Now everyone was looking at me.

“What is going on?” I asked and immediately the room was filled with the chaotic noise of everyone trying to explain.

During the confusion Earth started to move towards me, but when Bloodmoon noticed he told her, “Take one more step and Lunar loses an arm.”

It was clear that Bloodmoon was getting desperate, but desperation often leads to danger. So, I try my best to deescalate the situation.

“Please, don’t hurt Lunar,” I asked Bloodmoon in the calmest voice I could muster at the moment. “Let’s just talk, Bloodmoon. Can we just do that?”

Lunar seemed surprised that I was trying to reason with Bloodmoon. To be honest, so am I, but it seems that Bloodmoon cares at the very least a bit about me. If anyone in this room has a chance of talking him down, it would be me.

Bloodmoon was listening, but he seemed unconvinced.

“Please?” I added.

“Fine,” said the first Bloodmoon voice relenting.

“What is it that they would want to say?” the second voice demanded.

“Well, Surely this is not a safe place to keep Luna,” Lunar stated.

“What do you mean?” Bloodmoon demanded.

“Well, even if you do not hurt her, can you guarantee that Ruin will not?” Earth explained calmly. 

“You can’t take her, I won’t let you!” the second Bloodmoon declared.

“Why not?” Earth inquiried, asking the million dollar question.

“If you take her, then we won’t have her.” the first Bloodmoon stated. “We will not let you take her from us!”

“Why don’t you come?” I asked in response, regaining the attention of the whole room. 

Lunar seems like he is about ready to say something, but Earth gave him a look that said to wait.

“Why not leave Ruin to his own devices and leave with us?” I asked again” “We both know he just likes to use you.” 

“Why do you say that?” Bloodmoon asked.

“I don’t know, but it seems like the only times he talks to you is when you initiate it or he wants something,” said simply. “I personally do not care for him, he is dangerous and mean.”

“What does that make us?” Bloodmoon asked.

The whole roomed seemed to wait for an answer.

I stopped to think for a minute, then I said, “Well, you are dangerous and can be mean, but, unlike Ruin, you do seem capable of caring.”

We all seem to take a moment to process what was just said in silence. But the silence was broken by the sound of Ruin.

The time bought by Sun and Moon had finally reached its end. We could all hear the sound of Ruin returning. Lunar and Earth started to move towards the exit of the daycare and out of sight, but they both kept looking back at me and Bloodmoon. 

The question in the air was not whether or not I was safe. The question was whether or not Bloodmoon was ready to let go and what his decision would entail.

[callsign-owl]

A Second Chance

This is a continuation of No Regrets

London, United Kingdom - December 2018

The interior of Owl's flat was as chaotic as ever, if not more so. The air was dusty and thick with the scent of stale coffee. Books, papers and dirty laundry were scattered haphazardly around the room, a physical manifestation of Owl's mental state. Owl had been granted bail after initial custody but had been confined to his flat since then.

Owl laid on the worn leather couch, his eyes hollow, staring blankly at the ceiling. Not even the sound of a key turning in the lock managed to snap Owl out of his stupor. As the door swung open and Percival entered, Owl remained motionless, his dishevelment a stark contrast to Percy's immaculate appearance.

Percival closed the door behind him and moved to sit opposite Owl. “I’ve got news. And it’s good news.”

Owl’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Good news? Doubt there’s any of that left for me, brother.”

“Listen to me. I’ve been working on something—something that might not only keep you out of prison but give you a chance to start over,” Percival said earnestly, leaning forward trying to capture his brother’s gaze. Owl however just kept staring at the ceiling.

Owl scoffed. “Start over? Percy, look at me. My career, my reputation— I've ruined everything. What’s left to start over?”

Percival's tone remained insistent. “Listen, I've pulled every string, leveraged all my influence and called in every last favour I had and I’ve managed to arrange a deal. A deal that would keep you from having to go to prison. It’s unconventional, but it’s an opportunity.”

Owl replied with a bitter edge to his voice. "What kind of opportunity? One that changes the past?" His gaze was both cynical and disinterested.

"No, not the past," Percy replied, undeterred by Owl's skepticism. "But possibly the future. It’s an alternative to prison. A kind of public service, but not what you might expect."

Owl finally turned to look at his brother. "Public Service? You mean like community service? Cleaning streets, painting walls? Teaching little kids not to kill their fathers?"

"More significant than that," Percy said, leaning forward. "Military service, with a specific unit—Task Force 141, under the command of Captain Jonathan Price."

Owl laughed. "Military? Percy, you’ve gone mad. Me, in the military? Don't be ridiculous."

"Listen *redacted*. It’s this or likely a very long time in prison, maybe even life. And we both know how that would most likely end for you. Captain Price is offering you a chance to make something out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. This unit isn’t conventional; they operate in the shadows, where the rules are different.", Percy explained patiently.

Owl's laughter died down, replaced by a skeptical frown. "You’re actually serious?"

"Completely serious," Percy affirmed. "I’ve pulled every string, talked to every contact I have. This is real, and it's your best shot."

Owl ran a hand through his unkempt hair, taking a deep breath. The idea was ludicrous. "So I just agree to become a soldier, and all is forgiven?"

"Not forgiven," Percy corrected gently. "A chance for redemption. Your skills, your intelligence—used for something bigger than you or me. It would mean your freedom, in a way. At least you wouldn’t waste away in a cell."

 “And if I say no?”, Owl asked, still with a skeptical expression.

“If you say no, the trial proceeds. With the evidence stacked against you...” Percival let the sentence hang, the implication clear. Owl would be tried for murder and most certainly be convicted.

Owl sat up, his mind racing. The prospect of prison terrified him; he knew he wouldn't survive it. But joining the military seemed insane. This bizarre alternative was almost too good to be true, yet here it was. "And if I say yes? What then? I just pack up and become G.I. Joe?"

“As soon as you say yes, I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll need to meet with Captain Price, go through some formalities, but... you’re essentially in, if you want it.” Percival looked at Owl expectantly.

Owl glanced around the cramped, chaotic space that had been his refuge and his prison. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright. I’ll do it. I don’t have anything to lose anyway."

Percival let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding: "Alright, I’ll take care of everything.”

[donnies-low-empathy]

@loser-swag Oh I guess I can talk about him. I guess. It’s not like he’s constantly in my head always it’s not like I’m thinking about him every second of every day. I can do that. (sarcasm)

Where to begin.

Ough okay so the death messages specifically. Let me copy paste a text I sent to my friend while I was coming up with that idea:

“God what if he records a special message for when the prosthetic or the scanner or weapon detects that its wearer is dying. What if they get a message in his voice being like “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this. None of us did. We’ll fix it, in the end. It will be okay. I hope.” And nobody ever finds out about this until they’re literally on the brink of death and resistance members who have gone their whole lives thinking Donnie was cold and heartless and actually enjoying the apocalypse in some way will get slapped in the face with his sincerity and won’t even have the chance to reform their opinion of him before they die.”

Since then I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Usually it would consist of him apologising (because he sees this as a failure of his tech, because it was meant to protect them), some short “you didn’t deserve this”, and then finally a promise to make things better. To try, at least. To do whatever he can. To give them some peace of mind before they die.

I don’t know how much value he thinks these messages will actually have. He was very tired when he first recorded it and decided to implement it. This would be at least a couple years after the initial invasion, when the Earth is already so unfamiliar to everyone. He just felt like the least he could do was help them die peacefully if he couldn’t prevent them dying in the first place. Either way, it’s probably appreciated more than he knows.

I wonder if he’s thought about whether it would be selfish to make the last thing they ever hear be his voice, but in the end it’s probably better than whatever they were hearing before. Must be awful to die to the sound of the Krang killing everyone around you. Must be awful to die alone on the cracked ground, bleeding out, and the only thing you can hear is your own struggling breath.

I don’t know. Anyway. It’s not like he tells anyone about this. It’s not necessary. Nobody needs to be consciously aware that he’s thinking of the moment when they’re going to die.

…

I think the Resistance has mixed opinions about him. No matter how valuable you are to the group, being “rude” means people will typically have a bad opinion of you. And this man is so exhausted from his constant workload, he really doesn’t have the energy to waste on deciphering the correct responses with the correct tone at the correct times. So he tends to snap a bit. And brush people off and tell them he’s busy, because he is. He learns to manage this better later on (when he adapts and is less overwhelmed) but it’s still there. Listen having low empathy in the apocalypse when you’re working with so many other people is difficult. But he prioritises getting work done over being pleasant to talk to and very few people actually understand how he works. So. It’s not worth it, you know?

Despite that, there’s a good amount of people that respect him more than anything. They know his tech is the only thing keeping them alive, and they know how much he works and how much he does to keep them all safe, so they can see past the fact that he forgets to greet people or respond or make eye contact. I’d say the percentage of people who dislike him overall is like. 40%. The rest are fine.

[hibewriter]

Take Me (In the Midnight Hour)

Masterlist   Read it on AO3 WIP

Chapter 1 2

The Rings of Power / The Lord of the Rings | Haladriel / Saurondriel | 10.1K | E 

Tags: Non-con | Depictions of Violence | 1st Person POV | Alcohol Abuse | Minor Character Death | Kidnapping | Technically HEA | Torture

Two

Finrod calls me the second I step into the threshold of my home.

"Hello," I say. I feel lighter now before he speaks. I set my coffee on the counter, the wrapper of my croissant in the trash.

"Before I speak rashly," he says. "How about we try something new? Why don't you tell me what happened between you and Mother this morning, and then I can decide if I'm going to yell at you."

I shrug, leaning against my kitchen counter as I look at my apartment. The throw blanket is haphazardly thrown across my coffee table and couch from where I woke on the couch the day before. There's still a plate of half-finished chicken nuggets dangerously teetering on the edge of the table. My TV is showing a purple screensaver of a monster attacking a town. It's a mess.

"Well, if you've already spoken to Mother then I fear that she may have missed the part where I told her that disrespecting me is not advisable." I move, clearing the plate into the trash before I lay it in the sink. "As well, she called me while I was leaving my friend's house telling me how I was wasting away and how embarrassing it was for me to get dumped."

It's easy to roll my eyes as I move through my apartment. I explain to him the conversation from the coffee shop as I pick up out-of-place dishes and place them in the kitchen. "–and then I told her I'd do it again now, down to the slap to the face, and calling him a shrimp-dicked cretin."

Finrod snorts, coughing against his saliva as he tries to regain composure. "You called him that."

"He cheated on me and asked if I'd be willing to have an open marriage while he was still inside another woman," I say. At this point, it's like commenting on the weather. No pain, no shame. Just the "isn't that fucked up?" of it all. There's silence on the line, and I think Finrod was attempting to think of a response that was both diplomatic and the correct thing to say. For a moment, I think maybe he'd hung up with how quiet the line got. Finally, he spoke, but it was little more than a whisper.

'And mother knew this?" He sounded distraught. Or maybe just contemplative. Something sad and not at all like I expected him to. I nod, forgetting for a second that he couldn't see me. And then I close my eyes. I'd forgotten Finrod wasn't there. That he'd been on some assignment in Annùminas further west and I hadn't had a chance to see him before I was gone. Mother was the one to tell him what happened.

"She was there, Fin," I say. The memory is vivid, her frowning as I swept past her and the remainder of our guests. Looking back I know she was only embarrassed for herself. I remember her pulling up to the house as I packed, and I thought she was going to be the one who took my hand, welcoming me back to my childhood home until I could sort myself out. She did nothing of the sort. "And instead of helping she demanded I apologize and still marry him. Everyone did."

He's silent for a long while. I almost think of pulling out the cheap vacuum I had tucked away if only to have something to fill the silence of the room.

"I – Galadriel I never would've told you to do that had I known."

"I know."

Bronwyn sent 9:52AM

Yoga? At The Reed? Read 9:54 AM

You sent 10:02 AM

Sure.

Read 10:02 PM

Bronwyn sent 10:03AM

Good, you can tell me where you disappeared to last night :) Read 10:04 AM

The Reed was technically owned by Arondir, something I found hilarious when he first told me.

"What's so funny?" He had asked.

"You're literally the last guy on earth I would expect to be a yoga instructor." Which was true. The man was all hard lines and frowns, an intense aura of someone who only put a hundred percent of themselves into every task they took on. I think I'd only seen him smile maybe twice in the eleven months I'd known them. Still, he nodded at my accretion then, like he knew that his vibe didn't quite match his profession.

He wasn't teaching today, however. Bronwyn suggested something about a brother I wasn't quite sure existed. Still, it was nice. My body was still loose, pliant from my activities the night before. Each stretch and move felt like realigning my body into itself again, making my body whole as I twisted and turned. It's almost enough to make me forget why I was invited out in the first place.

"So, are you going to tell me about Mr. Tall from the bar last night or are we spending today pretending you didn't look like a bitch in heat when you left me and Arondir at the bar?"

I keep thinking that one of these days, Bronwyn will keep her voice down. But no, she's very direct when she thinks people won't see, saying exactly what's on her mind. We'd just left The Reed, sitting at the coffee shop/bar combo in the same shopping plaza. I sip on my iced coffee, averting my eyes from my friend to check that no one was around.

"He was good," I mumbled, fingers tapping against my cup. I don't have to look at her to know Bronwyn was staring at me skeptically.

"Just good?" She scoffs and takes a sip out of her own glass. "When you left you looked at that guy like he'd just fucked your brains out and – oh my god tell me you did not fuck that guy in a sports bar bathroom."

I can only blush, abandoning my cup on the table and sinking into the small patio chair. If I could disappear I would, hidden away from the shock and judgment swirling on her face. "It was very fast."

"It was very fast," she mocks, letting out a laugh. "You fucked tall, dark, and handsome in the fucking bathroom and you still go home with him and all you can say is that he was good?!"

I huff, taking another cursory glance around before leaning in.

"Will you keep it down," I whisper. I hesitate as she raises an expectant eyebrow at me, and suddenly I feel like a child whispering about her first crush on the schoolyard playground. "Fine. He was amazing. Phenomenal even, but that doesn't matter."

"Did he eat you out?" She asks, leaning on her elbows. I swear I must be red as a tomato. The hazy memory of his face buried between my thighs sometime in the night comes unbidden into my mind, and I can't even think to stop the smile that comes across my face. "He did, didn't he?"

"He...is very talented."

"Oh my god," she squeals, a smile spreading wide across her face. "Did you stay the night? Did you get his number?"

And then I get to watch as I disappoint yet again. I didn't get his number, something I only realized after she'd texted me to go to yoga. It was a disappointment, to say the least, but hey. Dick comes and dick goes. At least that's what I told her. I couldn't live with the embarrassment of dealing with her knowing looks as I internally lamented the loss of the number of a man who turned my brain to mush.

"Well," she says. "Maybe we'll run into him again. Tirharad isn't that big."

The month passes in a blur. A full year of living in Tirharad, and yet I couldn't tell you much more about the city than the day I moved there, with the exception of a phenomenal boba place, the Reed, and the bar. I find myself pacing the streets in the morning, watching as those in the city go about their work, only to return home around noon just to shower, do a quick clean in the apartment, and traverse to the bar. Maybe I should get a hobby. Or a job. I need neither but something has to give. At this point, even Elendil has my drink ready before I even sit down at the bar.

"Something on your mind," Elendil would always ask. And each time I'd roll my eyes, bringing a freshly made lemon drop to my lips.

"Nothing more than usual," I'd say. And he'd nod, sagely. I don't think he believed me, or maybe he just wonders what the usual fodder in my head is, because often I noticed how he would linger on my side of the bar, waiting for me to speak.

I really should consider getting that hobby.

Instead, I drink, occasionally sending a text response to Bronwyn about my lack of will to entertain any men that day. And she'd respond with some eye roll emoji or complaint in between customers at her shift at the boba place a few blocks over. I could hang out there, but they don't serve alcohol. Besides, Elendil just repainted the sign to the bar, so at least I can stare at the fresh gold lettering of Barad-Dûr while I debate having a conversation with anyone near me.

"This seat taken?"

I'm about to roll my eyes and tell the stranger to fuck off, and then I find that seafoam green I'd been missing, well not missing but I thought about them, for over a month.

"It's you," I say with a frown. Confusion wasn't a feeling I particularly enjoyed. It definitely wasn't one I sought out. Yet here was the stranger who plagued a few wet dreams of mine, equally deranged and unsatisfactory when compared with the real thing. He doesn't seem perturbed, however. He slides into the seat next to me with a smile.

"It's me."

I open my mouth to say something. Ask something, anything. Except, Elendil interrupts, and I'm snapped out of my amazement.

"Halbrand," he says with all the familiarity of a close friend.

"You two know each other?" We both ask at the same time, much to the bemusement of Halbrand as he looks between the two of us. I feel another blush creeping up my face as I look away from them both, scanning the crowd.

"Galadriel and I met at your son's birthday party last month," he offers to Elendil. "Just passing paths."

Elendil narrows his eyes, and I can't tell if it's skepticism or if it's just how he thinks. But he laughs, then slides Halbrand a drink I didn't even see him make. "Of course, you'd meet not at my bar."

I chuckle, quickly disabusing myself of my embarrassment. I don't think anything of Halbrand's short laughter, or the tight grip he keeps on his glass before raising it. I ignore the way his free hand falls to my knee, though I can see the slight quirk of an eyebrow on Elendil's face.

"And I'm friends with Elendil's son," Halbrand says, turning to me. I nod as it clicks. The crowd around him at the other bar must've been part of the illusive son's birthday party. "We grew up together, and now that I'm officially back in town I figured I'd pay a visit."

"Officially back in town," I ask. Halbrand nods, though his gaze is back on Elendil. Their gazes are loaded, an obvious conversation that I'm not privy to.

"Halbrand went away to get his certification a long time ago," Elendil offers. My brow furrows again as I feel Halbrand's thumb press into my knee, but something about it feels like when I was a child, gripping Finrod's hand at night when there was a thunderstorm. So again, I say nothing. "But he's back now, so we should celebrate."

"No need to celebrate on my account," Halbrand says, sipping on the amber liquid in his glass. "I just thought I'd check in on an old man." I smile, and Elendil looks like he's about to give a snide remark in return before there's a crash. Another patron on the other end of the bar who was clearly over-served stumbled into the bar moments after rising from his booth. And he's gone in a flash, approaching the man before the event even fully registers in my mind. I'm not distracted for long.

"Sorry for barging in," Halbrand says. My attention immediately snaps back to him, and I shake my head.

"I think you're probably the most interesting person here."

He smiles, hand sliding higher on my knee into my thigh. I suppress a shiver, though his hand holds nothing but warmth against my skin as he repositions himself to face me fully.

"I'll have to disagree," He says.

"Oh?"

"I think you're far more fascinating."

I'm not proud of my response, exactly one drink in on a Friday afternoon. But the warmth from his hand has spread over my body, and he's looking at me like I matter. And maybe I was tired of dreaming when the real thing was sitting right in front of me. I'm human, damn it.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

His smile is that of a wolf. All teeth, violence, and threats that promised a bite I wasn't sure I wanted to avoid.

The walk to my apartment is short, but Halbrand holds my hand the entire time. He lets me walk in front of him, his left hand being dragged forward by my right as I mark the familiar path. It's a sunny day, a few stragglers out on the street as we walk home. Still, there was a chill in the air as we walked, a bristling breeze that cut straight through my sweater, so that by the time we arrived on the stoop to my apartment my free hand felt like ice as I grasped at the key in my purse.

I didn't know it then, but it was my last chance to keep Halbrand in the past. If I ever had a chance at all it would've been then. Before he would know intimately what my apartment looked like and how I lived. This was the last chance to turn around and say I'd changed my mind. Knowing what I know now, I'm not sure that I would want to deny him. Maybe I'm just as fucked as him.

I let him inside, and suddenly it's like there's a stone in my throat. I drop his hand in service of closing the door behind him. With my back to him, I try not to think about what he might be thinking about my home. The furniture I brought directly out of an Ashley Furniture Magazine, the TV set to a 24-hour nature stream that I fall asleep to, the cups in the sink, my favorite blanket still in its place. I wonder if he'll hate it, or if he'll judge it, or if –

My thoughts are silenced the second I turn around. His lips immediately pressed to mine, hand gripping my head as he pushed me into the wall next to the door. He's hungry, a ravenous being, drinking me in as if he would die without it. And I respond in kind. My hands clench at his shirt, trying to draw him closer, closer, closer. There's no hesitation when his tongue swipes into my mouth, his other hand grasping my waist.

I feel dizzy and lightheaded as he grips me. The scent of him, a woodsy cinnamon that felt like a warm hug around me, infects my brain and makes me lose any trace of thought. I can barely focus on just kissing him back, let alone his wandering hands as they pulled my sweater from my skirt or the way he seemed on a one-man mission to taste every inch of my mouth. The most I can do is paw at his shirt and whimper as he begins to take and I think maybe we'll rush again, slip into a base hunger that can not be sated with slow.

But he pulls away and I embarrass myself by chasing him, soft pecks to try to draw him back to me, to pull him in.

"Slow down," he breathes. His voice is ragged, short huffs as he presses me back into the wall. "I want all of it this time."

He says this and I can only nod, words escape me. The hands at my waist are tugging at my skirt, pushing it down, down, down, until the fabric pools at my feet. His lips drag along my neck, down my front until he's kneeling in front of me, eyes peering up from beneath golden lashes.

"Tell me Galadriel," he breathes this, and it feels like I'm suffocating. "How do you like it? Do you like it sweet?" He presses a kiss to my hip, just above where the band of my underwear ends. I wonder if my neediness shows through the way I stare at him, watching as he pulls the fabric from my hips. It feels like an eternity, but the second they hit the floor he pulls my leg over his shoulder, exposing all of me to him. I barely have time to feel embarrassed, the prickly hair from over a week of not shaving was no deterrent for him. He lips encase my clit, and I can't help but moan from the feeling.

I'd been prepared for his fingers or more of his cock in me, but this. His lips were heaven. His tongue a sin when he opened his mouth to take in more. Wet, smooth, soft, my hips were not in my control as they chased his tongue.

"Fuck," I whimper. "Fuckfuckfuck."

My hands flew to his hair as he feasted. It was too much. It wasn't enough. Each lick was a path to salvation, each kiss a guiding light. Maybe it's hindsight bias, maybe I read too many romance novels and religious devotions, but it felt like being held by a god. When he finally, finally, slipped his tongue into my weeping pussy, I was already close. In record time, because what felt like an eternity was surely only a few minutes. He fucks me with his tongue and I find out what people meant when they say earth shattering.

There's something that escapes me when I feel his finger breech my entrance. The way he suddenly pulls back, kisses at my hip, sweet and gentle before he speaks again.

"I'd ask if you like it rough but," he huffs. Suddenly the single digit is doubled to two, my breath hitches instantly. But he doesn't take it slow. It's like our first time redone. Each pump of his fingers grazing a spot inside me I've never been able to reach in rapid succession. It was if he were ringing for an elevator — fast, impatient, but still precise in his movements. Then he brought back his tongue.

I barely hang on. The only thing anchoring me to reality was the feeling of his free hand on my hip, the softness of his hair entangled in my hands. My back arches off the wall, trying to chase him as the pressure in me, the tight coiling in my belly, finally snapped. Yet he didn't stop. He continued to lick at me, headless of my weak protests as I shook above him. Each breath belonged to him. Each jolt of pleasure taken by his mouth.

He stood only when he felt like it. So calm as he placed my foot back on the ground. I could only sag back to the wall, panting as if it wasn't just one orgasm. As if it wasn't just a teaser for what he planned to come.

"I've been kicking myself for not doing that last time," he murmured. He crowded my space again, capturing my parted lips in another kiss. There was something so sickly sweet about it. A tendril of sugar that coated the sweet tang of my cum on his tongue.

"I'll give you whatever you want, as long as you keep doing that," I say. Dazed, drunk off my high — that's when I sign myself over to the devil.

It wasn't the basement that did me in. That's what the papers got wrong. It was here, in the afterglow of orgasmic bliss that I gave him that inch to claim me. Of course, at the time, I thought that it was just a thing. Something to say when you want to be ravished to the edges of your sanity by the person standing in front of you. But it was my first submission. It was the first time that he heard me say that I belonged to him, in not so many words. He heard my willingness, my devotion. He saw it before I did. I found Eru in him. I found religion and atheism. I found peace and pain.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When he finally got me to my bed, he was slow in undressing himself. He unbuttoned each button on his flannel, watching me as I breathed sharply as he revealed the parts of himself I wanted to memorize. Each piece of exposed skin was a map to a destination I was sure I wanted.

This is where I find out he likes to watch me squirm. He likes the desperation in me when I kneel in front of him. He gets off on me impatiently moving to unbuckle his belt. But in the moment I don't care. I want him. I want him entirely. Inside of my home, inside of me, toying with my heart — I wanted him. I never acted so feverishly before. Not with Celebron, in twin mattresses shoved into college dorm rooms. Nor in the house we built. But I hungered for a man, a veritable stranger, who'd wormed his way into my life with clandestine meetings and too many shots of gin.

"Whatever I want, right?" His voice is breathless, and it's a small comfort to know I wasn't the only one reeling in that moment. He climbs over me, and I don't dare to fully speak. I only nod, my arms wrapping around his neck. Then he just stares. It's more intimate than I was ready for, the way he began to trace my form with his eyes. Something so innocuous that kicked me on my ass. "I don't want this to be the last time."

I hadn't noticed him grasping himself, but I immediately noticed when the head notched against my entrance. Slow, almost methodical, he guided himself inside. If I could find it in me, I would be embarrassed by the low, needy mewl that flew from my mouth.

It feels like my first time all over again. Each push of his cock inside me feels like he's building something inside me. Carving and molding me into whichever shape he wants, intent on making me feel whole as he made space for himself inside me. Slow, conscious effort as he took more from me in that moment. I felt dizzy. I felt insane. I knew I'd never want anything else as much as I wanted the fullness I felt in that moment. The entire time, he holds my gaze, intent to make me feel what he's doing to me.

Finally, his hips press into mine. He's a deep as he can go. I feel him everywhere. Fully pressed into my cunt, the pressure I can feel in my throat as he takes and takes and I can only hold on. He moves, drawing out slowly, every inch felt as he retreated. Then he rocks back in. Again, he draws out, only slightly faster, rocking back in with that same deliberate pace. I feel electric, every inch of me smarting with each roll of his hips. I can't speak, only the hurried gasps and soft moans able to filter from my mind to the waking world.

I don't have to guess if he feels it too. His lips are parted, small groans of satisfaction escaping unbidden from his mouth. I stare at his mouth. I want him to kiss me. I need him to do it. I need to know that this is more for him. That this is different from last time.

He does. He pauses his thrusts for just a moment, leaning impossibly closer just to press his lips to mine. They're soft, impossibly so. His thrust grow shallow, more of a grind inside me as his kiss grows sloppy. My finger tangle in his hair, the heel of my foot presses into his lower back, and our chest glide against each other. Every breath I took became his. Every kiss was an awakening.

In the end, it wasn't as if I came and then he came, or the vise versa. It was as if one moment we were at sea, in the calm waves as he rocked into me and I clung to him. But then a storm came, both of us grasping the other tighter. His hands grasped at my hips, clenching so hard that they would bruise. My nails scrapped along his back, breaking skin in a way that I only noticed much after the fact. Our limbs moved in unison, my hips chased his in fervent need. The storm raging around us. It was like lightening struck and every fiber of my being was lit anew.

But the best part was the end. Basking in the afterglow as he softened within me. Our breaths matched each other, slowly calming down. It was a peace. His head laid nestled in my shoulder, I slowly stroked his back. Smooth skin only broken by the welts I'd left on him. I tried, at the time, to quell the pride I felt in leaving a mark on him. The haze of my orgasm was fading, the clarity of the insanity of my emotions was beginning to take hold.

"How are you so stressed after we just had sex?" He mutters the question out loud, nuzzling up to me as if he could get closer. I laugh, feeling as the creeping anxiety drips way.

"I was just thinking of how insane I felt." It was the truth. Whispered as if that would prevent him from hearing it. He stills for a moment. Just a second that disrupted the breaths he takes but it's noticeable.

"Insane because you didn't like —"

"God no," I huff. "I'm pretty sure that was the best sex I've ever had. It's just."

I stop. Silence myself before I officially cross into crazy territory and say something that can't be unsaid. But he doesn't take that. He shifts, propping himself on his forearms, gazing down at me before.

"Don't —" He bites his lip, pausing himself as he mulls over his words. "I don't want to leave without knowing I'll see you again."

I swallow. It's like swallowing a peach pit, the hard nut stuck in my throat before I whisper out a confession that should left to the sands of time. I wish I encased those words in my mind. But they slipped through, and with them my own damnation, doubled over in a bit under an hour as I offer myself to the devil again.

"I don't want you to go."

[eliteprepsat]

Don’t procrastinate (it only makes things worse). Eat well. Exercise regularly. Get a good night’s sleep. 

All of these are vital—and common—pieces of advice that will help you manage all forms of stress, academic and otherwise.

As anyone who has struggled with academic stress likely knows, each of these points is easier said than done. What I think is often missing from such advice is an account of the mental and emotional hurdles that can get in the way of effective time and health management. 

Maybe you struggle with anxiety or depression, or maybe you have family or other health issues that make sleep or exercise really difficult to come by. Stress is often a symptom of circumstances that need their own forms of management.

But stress is also often a learned pattern of thinking, one that we need to unlearn if we’re going to get things done.

YOU’RE PROBABLY WRONG

“You cannot get stressed out unless you believe your thoughts,” explains Susan Stiffelman, a licensed psychotherapist and author of Parenting Without Power Struggles. “All stress is precipitated by stressful thinking.”

Often, we convince ourselves that the tasks ahead of us are more difficult than they need to be. If you’re a perfectionist especially, you probably impose impossibly high standards on yourself and your work that may engender procrastination. 

After all, why spend the next 30 minutes trying to produce absolutely perfect work when you can just let your mind wander on Snapchat?

When Stiffelman warns against believing your own thoughts, she is suggesting that we question our assessments of what we have in front of us. Next time you’re stressed out over an exam, a paper, or college applications, try listing reasons why your assessment of the situation might be incorrect.

Do you have a record of academic success? Have you succeeded in the past on projects that you found daunting? If the answer to either of these is “yes,” then there’s a good chance you’ve misread your current situation. 

Sometimes, there’s freedom in getting things wrong.

BREAK IT DOWN

But even if you are correct, and if what lies ahead is very difficult work, pausing to consider why a given project is difficult—and writing out the reasons—often reveals a range of sub-tasks that are far less difficult than the project as a whole.

This is why Stiffelman also advises breaking tasks down into small chunks.

In my own experience, to-do lists are lifesavers. List out the tasks ahead and break these down into the smallest possible tasks.

One student of mine wrote out everything she needed to do on sticky notes and then threw the notes away as she completed each task. But if you want to avoid wasting paper—and I think you should—an app like Todoist is just as good for laying out a roadmap and for checking off items as you go.

⏱️ TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Let’s say you need to write an important paper for an English class. Your to-do list might look something like this:

Read the assignment [Monday]

Decide which text(s) I’m going to focus on [Monday]

Read my notes on that text [Tuesday]

Find 3-4 quotations from the text that seem relevant [Tuesday]

Draft a thesis [Tuesday] 

See if the thesis goes well with the quotations I’ve chosen [Tuesday]

If not, find other quotations or revise the thesis

Draft an introduction [Wednesday] 

Draft the first body paragraph [Wednesday] 

Draft the second body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the third body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the fourth body paragraph [Thursday] 

Draft the conclusion [Thursday]

Review my topic sentences [Friday]

Review my transitions [Friday]

Read the entire draft [Friday]

Check that the body paragraphs correspond with the thesis

Check that the body paragraphs proceed in a logical order

Make necessary revisions [Saturday]

Proofread the essay [Saturday]

Writing an entire paper can seem daunting, but reading the assignment is easy. Deciding which text to focus on isn’t too hard, either. Even drafting a thesis isn’t all that bad. Taken together, writing an entire paper might seem like a difficult task. But, when broken into small chunks, the job is much simpler than it seems.

Notice that I’ve given each task a day of the week. It’s important to recognize that your time is limited. If you give yourself a rough timeline, you can kind of mechanize the process a bit and give yourself peace of mind that you’re on track. Remember to stay flexible—adjust as you go, when needed, since some tasks might be more difficult than you first anticipated.

🍫 TREAT YOURSELF TO TRAIN YOURSELF

Keep yourself motivated by giving yourself a reward for each task or pair of tasks that you knock off your to-do list. 

You’re always practicing, always training yourself. You’re not all that different from a dog who learns how to do tricks. Just like a poodle, you need positive reinforcement to train your mind and body that getting things done is good.

If you practice being anxious with a stomach ache while writing, you’ll get really good at being anxious with a stomach ache while writing. But if you practice breaking writing down into small sub-tasks and rewarding yourself—with dessert or a video game or something else you love—you’ll learn to associate getting things done with feeling good.

In sum: change your thinking, make to-do lists, chart out a rough schedule, and reward yourself along the way. 

But of course, remember to avoid procrastinating, eat well, exercise regularly, and get a good night’s sleep. Those truisms are true, after all.

[myjinri]

hi hi hi! here is my little plot call for the event. vry quickly put together so this may seem a little scrambled but pls bear with me. this will def get edited randomly as i continue thinking throughout the days. feel free to leave a like if u'd like to plot something for the event <3 or lmk if one of my ideas interests u and would like a starter

december 11-14

jinri's one of the early arrivals against her wishes at the four seasons hotel. it's very likely to run into her there, or during/on her way to or back from one of her spontaneous night escapades.

will be at some of the offered activities because it's "for her image" and potential connections. more likely to be at the art classes, second likely are the wellness activities, and third is anything food related. she'd rather not do things in big crowds which is what she does during the night. might even catch her at any other muse's event if she so feels inclined to stop by.

might catch her potentially songwriting (or attempting to) in her free time. (she's at a weird state in her career where she feels like she has lost her way since she's not constantly working on something, so she's grasping at straws here..

vibes are casual small talk and brief conversations during the day, but at night she's more casual, esp if you catch her outside. the 12th, 13th and/or 14th may be filled with her doing fan events idk yet but i'll update this when i make a final decision.

some thread/plot ideas (can be adjusted): in art class and jinri gets emotional and maybe sheds a tear or two over art / being used as an excuse for jinri to escape her manager and then being roped into whatever plan she has / going on a tour and jinri attempts to convince the other to join her in leaving to do their own / simple running into each other in passing / past friends taking advantage of being in the same place and finally hanging out.

december 15

once again, she annoyingly early arrival to the gala so she might not be in the best mood near the start. after the ceremony she'll be mingling and be all over the place so high chance of seeing her or even chatting with her.

occasionally stops to just enjoy the music throughout the event. the easiest time for anyone to approach her since she's not on the move. once she's exhausted she'll be settled for the night near the bar. likely internally struggling with the decision to drink or not.

some thread/plot ideas (can be adjusted): someone convinces jinri to drink (intentionally or unintentionally) / jinri really likes the song being played and asks for a dance / sat next to each other during dinner and jinri's spacing out. / jinri loses her prized possession and is silently panicking trying to look for it.

december 16-17

if u guessed she'd be at the resort in chiang rai, you'd be correct.

jinri isn't too ecstatic to be participating in a campaign for the resort, but what choice does she really have when she's supposed to be "rebranding" herself. once she's done she's running as far away as possible from the cameras.

tbh, this is probably the one night she completely lets loose. this is probably the easiest time to talk to her, but also potentially the most aggravating since she's likely not taking anything seriously.

i envision potential budding friendships or the strengthening of old ones as she'd have a group of people she hangs out with for majority of the time they're there?

far, far, very far stretch! but since it's likely she got wasted that same night, there's also potential for jinri to have started shamelessly flirting and say things she definitely regret. i don't know but this could be an interesting angle to play out and develop further.

[zhenyi-piano]

This is Extremely Crucial

‘Attention Seeking’ When Teaching Young Children

Im starting to realise from teaching Liam that being a piano teacher who is teaching young children, I need to differentiate between when the student is giving me their attention, and when they’re not. There are plenty of situations when that is obvious.

Giving attention: the student listening to what I am saying and following my instructions, giving me eye contact, and even asking me what they should do.

Not giving attention: talking to their siblings, looking elsewhere for extended periods of time, running away from the piano.

One rule I have found to be very helpful is to grasp those chances when the student gives attention to feed them the information and give instructions, and to wait for their attention to return when they are drifting off. Often trying to force attention when they are drifting off causes students to lose more attention, or generate certain levels of negativity, depending on the methods used by the teacher to garner attention.

Things become ambiguous very easily as there are many cases where it’s hard to draw the line on whether or not the student is paying attention. When the student is playing the piano but doing their own things on the piano or blindly repeating passages without improving them, it’s not right to say that the student is necessarily paying attention as they are not responding to my instructions and what they should be doing, but at the same time it’s also hard to say that they are not paying attention entirely as they are still on the instrument and a lot of times playing stuff that is still relevant to the class. It’s in these scenarios that trying to enforce the student to pay attention may not work and would cause them to rebel, ultimately losing attention, while not enforcing anything and waiting for them to give me the attention again may result in them getting off the instrument completely, or waste precious time during the lesson that could have been used to correct their playing.

The solution that I have discovered for these scenarios is to try to use short phrases or words (be it simple instructions or reactions to their playing) to probe into the mental detour they are taking, then patiently waiting a few seconds to see if the attention snaps back into place. This method can be repeated endlessly until the attention of the student is finally back at me, and doesn’t cause any backfiring to happen had I tried to force him to listen to my instructions and force him to do exactly what I tell him to (the backfiring has happened many times in the past for Liam which resulted in him banging the piano or walking away).

It feels like magic once I understood this concept, as teaching suddenly became much more effortless, despite Liam being one of my hardest students to teach.

[thoughtskeptunsaid]

Life update...

Hi tumblr! What's up? It's been a while since I last visited you. A lot has happened since then. A lot has literally changed, like changed drastically but not in a bad way, I guess??

I want to tell you everything but I don't know where and how to start. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed that I get lost in my sea of thoughts.

All I know is that I am at my happiest season of my life right now. Yes, I am still way too far in achieving all my dreams and goals in life, but I already took the risk and started to take a leap of faith and started anew. It's not easy, I still get a lot of emotional breakdowns and anxiety. I still doubt my self but a little less compared than before.

At this moment, what didn't change is that I am still that little girl who dreams of achieving the life that I always dreamed of. I am still that girl working and striving hard to get the happiness and contentment that I always wanted. I am still the same person who believes that there is always hope even when you break and fall a lot of times. I am still that person who never gives up even if things get harder and harder each day. I am still a believer and I am still that faithful little girl who believes that God will never forsaken me in hard and trying times.

Sometimes I can't help but think about the things that I did in the past. I know I made a big mistake and a lot of wrong decisions in life that up until now I still feel so bad and guilty about. I don't know how to make things right but I am trying my best to make up with my mistakes. I just still can't believe that I was given a chance to correct it and for that I am so thankful!! I know I do not deserve to have a second chance but still I was given the chance to make things right.

Because of that, I realized that as long as we live, there is always a chance to redeem ourselves especially when we have hurt the people that we love. It's just a matter of time, understanding and faith that the person will forgive you after everything. I believe that LOVE really saves a certain relationship and you can always hold unto LOVE when things go wrong. Just make sure that you won't waste the chance that was given to you!!

Making a mistake is inevitable, we are only humans and we are not perfect. But making a mistake twice or more than what you were sorry for is not fvckng normal anymore!! If you keep on hurting and hurting the person that you love then it's not love anymore!

Anyway, I am at this era where I am no longer afraid to do the things that I love. I believe that life is too short to limit yourself in doing the things that make you happy. I know I am no expert in life. I still fall, I break, I fail but I try to get back up again and face the challenges in life with faith that everything will fall perfectly into place in God's perfect time.

[rynpost]

WIP Wednesday

I'm feeling brave and trying to keep myself motivated so have a tiny snippet of my "In From the Cold" rewrite.

“But which way did she go?” Alphinaud scowled at the four different entrances before them. “We only have a one in four chance of being right, and if we don’t find her …”

Thancred ignored the bickering that began behind him and stepped forward, eyes closed as he tried to feel for the correct way to go to find their wayward hero.

The obvious answer would be the leftmost door, given Rynia’s infuriating habit of repeating the phrase ‘good adventurers always go left’ whenever they were confronted with a choice. But for some reason his gut was telling him that was wrong. Hoping to hear, to sense something that would give him a clue, he blocked out the now heated argument happening behind him and listened.

Only the sound of dripping water echoed back to him on the faint breeze that was coming from somewhere up ahead. But that ice-cold breeze brought with it something else that made him abruptly open his eyes.

The faint scent of lavender was unmistakably drifting towards them. There could be no other source - Rynia always smelled vaguely of lavender, as any clothes she made were wrapped with a sprig to keep them fresh for customers. She grew the plant by the shedload in the garden of her shop in the Shroud, the vibrant purple plant filling the space entirely, and while she did have retainers who would be more than willing to tend it on her behalf, it was a matter of pride for the stubborn woman to harvest and replant it all herself.

Her new clothes had been shipped to her directly from the atelier, so the scent had been that much more potent for the past few days. A blessing in disguise.

“This way.” Thancred snapped, bringing the eyes of his companions to him as he pointed an imperious finger in the direction the wind was coming from, the second door to the left.

��Why that way?” Alisaie frowned, prompting a shake of the head from the white-haired man.

“I’ll tell you later. We’ve got no time to waste.” he said simply, striding forward without looking back to see if the others were following.