#words wound me and touch me so deeply‚ so don't mind me getting all emotional over an easily missable line from a forgotten genshin event

[ofbardsandmen]

nobody fw inazuma poetry event like i do

[xxacademy]

SCARS AND ALL

gf!Jill Valentine x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: When your beloved girlfriend comes home from a difficult work trip it brings up complex feelings of love and trauma. But, it’s nothing that can’t be mended, especially by sharing each other’s loving affection.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, established relationship, past emotional trauma, weapons (mentioned, not used), descriptions of injuries, wound cleaning, terms of endearment, kissing, & bathing.

She reminds you of a quiet forest in early spring. So lush, and full of life—but always perpetually raining. You find comfort in her beauty, but like that vernal forest, her mind is always a storm. Restless and pouring, her thoughts swirl with pain and grief, and it worries you sick. Rain, rain, rain. You can only hope for better days, you hope she can find the calm within her inner sanctum. For one day, the sun must come out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

"You're back," you sighed as Jill stood in your home's entryway. She wore black skin-tight jeans and a really broken-in denim jacket.

She took a deep breath, dropping her bags on the hardwood floor. "I'm back, finally."

You wrapped your arms around Jill, squeezing her tight into your embrace. She rested her head into the crook of your neck, soaking in your touch.

"I missed your smell, y'know," Jill whispered into your skin.

And you missed hers dearly. Jill had a particular smell of moss, fresh air, linen, and sandalwood. It was something of a drug to you.

You slowly ran your hand up her back and combed your fingers through her short brown strands, tucking a piece behind her ear to reveal her face.

A large, fresh wound splayed across her cheek and nose. Dried blood was crusted around the edges, and her cheek was speckled with a purplish-green bruise.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your shaky hands traced along the perimeter of her cut. "Jill—"

"It's fine, I promise."

"What do you mean it's fine? You're beat to shit."

"That's how it goes, you know that," Jill retorted.

"I'm not trying to overreact, I just…"

"You just what?"

"Jill, I feel bad— I just feel bad seeing you hurt all the time."

"It's just a cut. You don't need to worry about me," she said, reaching her hand to her face and feeling her wound.

"It's not just the cut, I'm aware you get hurt. But, I worry about you, I know this wears you down."

"We can talk about this later. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dig," you said, apologetically kissing Jill on the forehead.

"It's okay, I know. This is just a me thing." she sighed into your neck, her voice sounding heavy and tired.

"You need a bath, though," you laughed faintly.

"I smell disgusting."

You breathed deeply, "I mean, there's a bit of what I assume is monster blood in your hair."

"A day in the life of Agent Jill Valentine, I guess." she chuckled sarcastically, pressing a kiss to your neck. "But seriously, though, I'm getting in the bath."

She left your embrace, but not without a kiss, and faintly pressed her lips against yours. "It's good to be home," she smiled, heading for the bathroom.

While Jill was in the bath, you got to work unpacking her bags. First was a duffle bag filled with clothes, an array of guns, knives, ammo, more guns, and Jesus Christ. How many weapons does this woman need?

You pulled out her blood-stained clothes and put them into the wash. The weapons went onto a towel next to the safe, she'll want to clean them before putting them away.

You held her favored combat knife in your hand. The blade was worn down and nicked from years of use and many sharpenings. It was crusted with dried blood and yellowish pus.

This very knife has saved her for damn near everything, but it brought you to tears thinking of all she had to live through. Jill was never the one who needed saving. She's always been the protector. But at what cost? It was always at the expense of her own freedom and well-being.

Your precious girl deserved to be free from the hell that is her inner world.

She had a backpack that was mainly filled with folders, notebooks, medication, and whatever random shit she picked up from her two weeks away. You left that bag for her to deal with, though; she would actually murder you if you misplaced an important document.

Jill called your name from the bathroom, and you instantly met her there.

"What is it?" you asked. Jill was sitting in the bath, her chest pressed into her knees, wincing as she ran her hand down her back.

"My back, I got hit there and need help with it." she cracked.

You sat on the edge of the tub and inspected the damage. An angry red slice from a blade ran from her shoulder blade to her lower back.

"God, I think it's infected," you said, analyzing the swelling around the wound.

"Of course it is," Jill huffed.

"Just hang on, I'll clean it." You rummaged for a first aid kit from under the sink. Although you're not a nurse, at this point, you should be.

You prepped a cloth with alcohol and held it up to her wound, "It's gonna hurt, okay," you tried to warn her, but the shock was more than Jill could have expected.

She winced, recoiling back as you dragged the cold burn of the alcohol along her irritated skin.

"Ow, oh my god, that fucking hurts!" she exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry. Just give me a second, and I'll be done."

You got her cut cleaned up. Jill's head rested on her knees, which exposed her bruise-ridden body.

Regardless, she was perfect. Her pretty olive skin contrasted warmly against the bubble bath. Her arms were muscular, with raised veins running down her long, dainty fingers.

Although the thought of the bruises made your stomach ache, they undoubtedly made her look tough but no less beautiful.

"Okay, my love, you should be better. Is there anything else I can do for you?" you asked, standing up.

Jill's head still rested on her knees as she answered, "No, that should be everything."

"Okay then," you headed for the door, wanting to give her some privacy.

"Where are you going?" Jill said as you were stepping out the doorway.

"Just to the kitchen, why?"

"You should stay."

"Music to my ears," you hummed, stepping back. And resume your spot perched on the side of the tub.

"It's awfully lonely in this big tub all by myself," Jill said shyly, rubbing soap along her arms. "And how am I supposed to get clean without your help?"

A smirk formed on your lips. "Hmm, I wonder what I can do to fix that?"

"I'm not sure, but I know you can figure it out," she smirked, languidly rubbing soap into her skin.

"Fine," you stripped your clothes and placed them into a pile on the floor.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?" Jill's sleepy eyes admired everything about your figure.

Your cheeks heated as you stepped into the steaming hot bath. You sat behind Jill, with her placed between your legs.

You let out a long sigh as you adjusted to the water temperature, wrapping your arms around her.

Jill took your hand in hers and placed tiny kisses along your knuckles. "I'm tired, so unbelievably tired," she exhaled, leaning back into your chest.

"I wish I could make things better for you." you sighed as you stroked your fingers through her short brown hair.

Jill paused momentarily, swallowing as she found the words, "You already make things better for me. You make life better. You're everything to me."

You couldn't help but feel like it wasn't true. But why would she lie? She makes your life infinitely better, but for a reason you couldn't place, you felt like you weren't that person for her.

Perhaps you felt like her sense of duty outweighed her love for you, Or maybe you couldn't fully understand her trauma.

Your heart skipped, and the only thing you could manage was, "Really?"

"Don't act so surprised; at this point, you're the only thing keeping me sane. You get me through the literal gates of hell."

You laughed genuinely, and your cheeks flushed with warmth.

"See like your laugh, God, how I love your laugh. It reminds me of Summer if that makes any sense."

You laughed again, and a little pit in your belly swelled with warmth. "And you remind me of rain. Your voice is so calm and pretty. It's like water droplets on our window."

"You're quite the poet, I take it," Jill smirked and rolled around so her stomach pressed to yours.

"Only for you." you grinned, tucking a damp strand of hair behind Jill's ear. This angle provided you with an absolutely superb view of her eyes. Although heavy and tired, they radiated love-- love swirled by endless bounds of dark blue ocean. You couldn't resist her any longer and pulled her into a soft, intimate kiss.

Your pouty lips refrained from deepening the kiss too far. The tip of your tongue grazed against hers like a gentle dance. She tasted dizzyingly sweet. Jill gracefully rolled your lip between her teeth, biting and then sucking softly.

"My pretty girl," you mumbled into the kiss, drunk off her taste.

She ran her hand up your chest, your neck, and settled on your cheek, her thumb stroking your jaw with the lightest touch.

Jill pulled away and rested in your embrace, head on your chest, eyes closed. "I'm so happy to be home," she sighed.

You hugged her tight into your chest. "I'm happy you're home, my love."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Something darker than you'll ever know lingers behind Jill’s blue eyes. A darkness that she holds securely within herself. But, the sun does rise, and for Jill, you're her sun. The one person who can love her, scars and all.

[sreyaya]

Ey so I have a Norton smut idea teehee :333

So I wanna req a short smut drabble with Norton's skin Infernal Sin where he worships the reader (preferably gn)

Pls I'm this desperate to see someone write a damn demon going all soft and puppy eyed to a human hhehshhebebhdhehehe

In the Shadows

Infernal Sin!Fool's Gold x gn!Reader NSFW

Content Warning: praising/worship, warm warm warm sex, 600 words, MDNI

(A/n: THANK U FOR THE REQ! I DON'T USUALLY WRITE FG!NORTON BUT I HOPE U ENJOY ANON~ (tried making reader as GN as possible))

smut under the cut!

Everyone was aware of him, his relentless demeanor sending shivers down everyone’s spine. Norton Campbell, no– not that Norton, Fool’s Gold. His mysterious face, body covered in molten lava of anger and heavy wounds casing his body, releasing red flames that erupted with hatred and malice. Even in frequent matches, he lets no one off his hook, a good hunter supposedly.

But it was all different for you, the only person he ever tolerated, adored, devoted himself to. Down the manor halls to the bedroom, he melted under your touch, feeling warmth in his hollow heart. Someone he could finally call his treasure, someone he had been longing for so long. He adored you more than anything else, the one and only, and he knew that all too well.

“You take it so well, treasure. Looking divine as ever,” he cooed, slowly caressing your hair, his eyes drinking in the sight of your already sobbing face as he inched more and more inside.

He was slow with you, why would he hurt his one and only treasure? After a long day of hunting, all he wanted was cuddles and time with his pride and joy, his gold. Releasing low grunts every now and then, his rough palms curving on your cheeks slowly as he entered even deeper, satisfied by how you took him so well.

“So warm for me, just can’t ever get enough of you,” he murmured, admiring every inch of your body as if it was a sacred finding, something he had longed for so long. Your moans sounded like music to his ears, earnest melody for his chaotic mind.

You held onto his shoulders, feeling the texture of his eccentric golden decorations that made him more captivating. Clenching every inch of him inside, you stared at his face ever so deeply, feeling slightly bummed out that his mask covered his handsome face regardless of what it was missing. It felt like as if the world had stopped for the both of you, everything was flawless tonight.

“I adore you too much, my diamond,” he whispered, thrusting sharply once. “You’re so perfect to me, I always wonder why you’d even look my way when everyone does differently,” he continued, not breaking the eye contact you both had. “And when you call my name ever so sweetly, I'm done for,” he said before kissing you deeply.

His crimson wound emitted light and warmth around the both of you. What usually tormented him throughout the nights finally made him feel warm with you. He had always appreciated all these slow nights just being next to you, just the two of you, as he kept himself warm inside, feeling fulfilled more than anything.

“You drive me insane, baby, the way you do everything, you’re so perfect for me,” he groaned, thrusting in one last time before coming undone inside you, his seed filling you slowly. His flames dimmed by the second, his demonic eyes glowing softly under the faintly lit room.

Norton was happy, genuinely happy, a rare emotion that he had almost forgotten existed. In your embrace, he found a serenity that had always slipped away from him, a peace that wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. Your gentle touch, your soothing voice, and the love in your eyes were all he needed to remind him that he was more than just a monster, more than just a hunter feared by all.

[sordidmusings]

Buggy Headcanon: Comforting his partner on their appearance

A/N: headcanons requested by anon! Thank you for the request this one was really sweet. I hope it's what you wanted and I hope that you’ve been having better days ❤️

Word Count: ~800

Warnings: afab!reader (they/them pronouns), slight thirst for a bullet there but nothing explicit, gets very sappy but thats my shit so if you don't like it get ready to square up 😤

Get a dose of some love 🤍!!

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy is your biggest fan, just like you are his

He’s always letting you know how highly he thinks of you, whether that be with compliments (usually crude or goofy ones), clinging to you (you’ve heard of velcro dogs, let me introduce you to Gorilla glue Buggy), and touching you with either reverence or greed

Most often, he'll try to take your mind off of it by joking around and acting dramatic

He'll let out an offended gasp. "You're insulting my favorite person in the whole wide world?? TAKE IT BACK."

He'll collapse onto the nearest surface, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead like a true thespian, and bemoan, "My love - my sweet, wonderful, breathtaking love - is the greatest fool. Grab the hat and shoes; they're saying they're ugly again."

"Uh, yeah, but you know what that's perfect for??" *blows raspberry on it*

The reverent touches come in best to ease your difficult days - the way that he traces eyes and fingers across you with awe makes it hard to disbelieve his attraction. He’s learned from your brushes and kisses on his nose that the best balm for insecurities is unflinching affection. 

He loves you deeply and that extends to all of you. Everyone has their favorite pieces of each other of course, but the few parts that he had started out indifferent to (due to his distraction towards your highlighted features) had also gained a rosy sheen because they’re yours.

There was a particularly bad day you had where no sweet words or cuddling would break through your low mood. He had you tell him every one of your insecurities so he could caress each of them with loving hands and tender kisses. You felt much more content at the end; he had proven that not a feature on you would have him hesitate or flinch away. It was quite the opposite actually - he fell in love with you more with each emotional wound you trusted to his care, and he only saw you as more beautiful as you in your totality came into focus before his eyes.

The greedy part of him takes any chance to squeeze at you. A lot of the time it's playful - a passing slap to your ass, a pinch at your waist before he jumps away laughing, a palm at your breast enjoying the feel as he moves by. But there are times where it’s more insatiable - a hungry mouth pressed against breasts and stomach and hips and thighs, grasping fingers sinking into soft skin along with nipping teeth.

While he isn’t the most comfortable with sentimental words, he is actually really great with them. They always hold more weight to you, because he saves them for when you need to understand the truth of his feelings.

It’s not that he never says affectionate things - “There’s my showstopper!”, “So pretty”, “That’s perfect, sweetcheeks” and “Love you, little star” were very common in your life - but he avoided waxing poetic because it made him feel vulnerable.

This is partly due to the exposure he feels at stating such emotions after fiercely shielding anything that could be hurt behind steel plating, partly because this is you so any rebuff could break him (he worries about this not because he questions your devotion, but because he questions his worth), and partly because he fears that his words and feelings are stupid and inane, especially in the face of your own troubles

His own devotion has him push past those fears, because he would do anything to see you at peace or happy and smiling.

After a day of playing, teasing, working, and loving with each other, you still found yourself bending under the weight of the negative voice in your thoughts. Buggy had noticed the sorrow dragging down your features and felt his own heart ache.

The transition to bed was slower than usual to make time for him to keep distracting you with gentle touches, delicate kisses, and helping hands easing your tasks.

You found yourself bundled in your favorite sleepwear and cradled against his chest. You had choked up a bit when he knew to choose these clothes for you and helped you change into them. Buggy may come off as only brash and chaotic a lot of the time, but he diligently saved away any information he could about you, using it to love you better.

When the comforting pressure of his arms, the soft swipes of his hands on your skin, and the lulling warmth of his body underneath you had replaced any harsh thoughts, you began slipping into a peaceful slumber.

Buggy noticed you moving on to dreams so he gifted you one last promise to take with you.

“I would take my chances with the depths of the sea to fall at your feet and worship every piece of you.”

@fanaticsnail tagging as requested ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[eksvaized]

Part Six [ Previous 〡 Next ]

As you sit on the bed, your posture is rigid, almost painfully so. Your back is unnaturally straight, thighs pressed tightly together in a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of control. Your eyes are fixed on Simon, unblinking, as if you're trying to memorize every single detail you hate about him. Your hair, drenched and heavy with water, clings to your neck and shoulders. The cool droplets are slowly seeping into the fabric of your shirt, soaking it until it clings to your skin. Despite all appearances suggesting that you are fully immersed in the present, that you're hanging onto every word the man in front of you is saying, your mind is a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts and emotions.

As much as you yearn to silence your mind, to eradicate the incessant thoughts that relentlessly hark back to the bathroom and what had happened there, they persist. They circle your mind like vultures waiting to swoop down on their prey.

The ghost of Simon's touch lingers on your skin. The memory of it branded deep into your memory. His touch is still palpable, almost as if his palms are still there, resting against your wet soapy skin. Even though his hands are now at his sides, the memory of how his fingertips traced your flesh, how they mapped your body, seeking out the spots that made you squirm, that elicited any reaction other than crying or whimpering, is still fresh in your mind.

"Are you even listening to me, Y/N?" Simon sighs deeply. It's a quiet sound filled with exasperation and something else that you can't quite identify. He shakes his head, and that gesture seems to hold more significance than you can comprehend right now. Uprooting himself from his spot, he grabs the chair from the desk and positions it next to the bed. He sits down. His body is now directly in front of you, his gaze unwavering.

You lower your chin in a slight nod, acknowledging him. Yet, no words manage to make their way past your lips. Your throat constricts at the mere thought of speaking.

"Then repeat the rules."

You bit the inside of your cheek. There's a pause that stretches between the two of you. A long, tense pause that has Simon leaning closer to you. His hands rub together anxiously before he wipes his palms against the fabric of his shorts. You catch a fleeting glimpse of an emotion etched onto his face, a longing for something that you can't quite place. Something about his expression tells you, whispers to your gut instinct, that if you don't want this conversation to veer into dangerous territory, you need to come up with an answer. And you need to do it quick.

"If I want to stay in... in my room—" You echo the first thing he has said to you, and you try not to cringe because this doesn't feel like your bedroom at all. It's too big, devoid of any personal touches, lacking in colour and warmth. And most importantly, it doesn't even feel like a room. It's just another cell that you will be confined in, a gilded prison with invisible bars. "—and not be put back in the basement, I have to behave."

You hope the answer will be enough to satisfy him, but Simon jerks his chin, urging you to continue, to say more. Your heart drops like a stone in a still pond, ripples of anxiety spreading outwards. You didn't listen to him. Well, you did, but only superficially, so now recalling what he was speaking about is a challenge that you are terrified of failing.

"I can't leave the room unless I need to go to the bathroom, and even then, I'm not allowed to turn the shower on or fill the bath by myself. If I want to bathe, first I need to get permission from you."

Each word is wrenched from your lips, akin to plucking thorns from a deeply embedded wound, one excruciating prick at a time. You speak at a snail's pace. Your voice is barely a murmur. And while you talk, you can't help but wonder why Simon suddenly allows you to wander around the house, even if it's only limited to one long corridor. Something seems off. The only reason he might allow it that you can think of is that he wants to test you, to see if you will attempt to escape. All of this leads to a sudden realization, one that you might have had once but forgotten in the haze of your fear — your attempts to flee must cease. The mere notion of escape must be buried deep within, hidden away like a priceless treasure, until you have earned enough of his trust.

"Downstairs is off-limits." That's the second rule.

"Good," Simon reclines in the chair, making it creak under his weight. After crossing his arms over his broad chest, he asks "What else?"

"I must learn how to fold paper flowers." Out of the three rules, this is by far the most peculiar. The rationale behind it is unclear. It leaves you puzzled as to why this skill is necessary, why he wants you to learn it. When Simon first informed you of this rule, he gestured towards a book which you had failed to notice earlier, resting inconspicuously on the nightstand. Instead of using plain, white sheets of paper, he specified that flowers must be made of the pages of the book.

When you tried to ask how to fold them, an art foreign to your hands, you were met with Simon's curt reply: Figure it out. His answer made it clear he probably didn't know how to do it, either.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room again. It's heavy and oppressive. You find it impossible to maintain eye contact, as if his gaze is a blazing sun that blinds you. Your eyes droop to your lap, tracing the pattern of goosebumps on your legs — physical manifestation of the unease that you feel.

Simon's watchful gaze is ever-present, observing your every move with hawk-like intensity. You felt like a mouse under his scrutiny, small and vulnerable. These silent moments are the ones you hate the most. When he is talking, it's easier to tune him out, to lose yourself in your own thoughts. But when he is silent, it's harder to ignore his presence, harder to pretend that you are anywhere but here. You long to be back in the comfort of your own home, nestled securely in your bedroom, far from here and far from Simon.

"Later tonight, you must get ready for our first date," he says and stands up. A hint of anticipation flickers in his eyes.

A sensation, unfamiliar and as intoxicating as a sip of aged wine, akin to hope, burns within your chest. The hope is like a lone candle illuminating the vast darkness of uncertainty. Could it be that he is planning to take you out to some remote restaurant? The idea dances in your mind. It's a sweet symphony of possibilities that you allow yourself to indulge in, if only for a fleeting moment. But reality, ever so cruel, crushes the budding dream before it can bloom. Simon, you remind yourself, is not one to act recklessly. He would never risk setting you free, letting you wander outside the confines of this house. This realization sends a shiver of anxiety rippling through you, leaving you to dread the unknown plans he has for you.

"In the wardrobe, there's a pretty skirt you could wear. I think it would fit you nicely," he suggests, but the tone of his voice leaves little room for disagreement. His words, veiled as a gentle suggestion, carry the weight of an unmistakable command.

"You should rest now," he continues, crossing the room like a prowling lion until the space separating you is no more than a whisper. As you raise your chin, the sight of his toned abdomen greets your eyes. The faint outlines of his muscles are visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.

With a firm yet gentle grip, he encircles your elbow, pulling you up. He steers you towards the bed. A part of you resists the notion of surrendering to sleep in his presence, but the prospect of temporary oblivion proves too enticing. Perhaps, you think, the comforting embrace of slumber will grant you a temporary reprieve from your grim reality.

Before leaving the room, Simon tucks you in with a gentleness that seems almost foreign. His lips softly press a ghostly kiss against your forehead. The touch is so unexpected that it makes you recoil instinctively. You clutch at the covers, pulling them tighter around your body, drawing them up until they're almost grazing your jawline.

The door closes with a soft, almost imperceptible click. Your ears strain, leaning into the silence, awaiting the metallic sigh of the lock sliding into its place. But it never comes. The tantalizing possibility of an unlocked door tempts you, whispers sweet promises of freedom, urges you to shake off the covers and confirm it for yourself. But something holds you back, an invisible chain forged from fear, and you remain as motionless as a statue.

All of this seems too good to be true, like a mirage shimmering on the horizon of a parched desert, too pristine, too perfect to be anything but a cruel illusion. After enduring what felt like an eon trapped within the lightless, cold basement, being in a room with windows, with the sunlight streaming in, feels like a dream. Yet, it's not merely a dream - it's a bewitching siren's song, luring you in with its alluring beauty only to hide a monstrous nightmare beneath its captivating guise.

You sigh and close your eyes, letting the sun's warm tendrils brush against your eyelids. Maybe you — Simon — should have closed the curtains.

You struggle, you really do, to fully comprehend what Simon wants from you. His behavior is a complex puzzle that is difficult to decipher. There are times when he treats you terribly — his temper flares easily, driving you to the brink of tears, and his harsh treatment makes you want to bash your head against the wall until it all is over. You are trapped, kept like a captive in the prison, unable to escape or breathe. He treats you like some kind of pet, an object under his control. He toys with you as if you are a doll, a plaything that existed solely for his amusement and whims.

But then, like the flick of a switch, his demeanor would change. He would morph into a boyfriend who appears to be overly controlling. Yet, if you squint and tilt your head just right, you could convince yourself that his actions are because of an overbearing concern for your welfare.

This is all so twisted, so warped. Just thinking about him, trying to unravel the enigma that he is, and formulating plausible explanations for his actions, is a mental exercise that leaves you with a headache.

And yet, despite it all, a tiny part of you, a minuscule fragment of your consciousness, betrays you. You don't want to feel any form of gratitude towards him; you resist the urge to be thankful. But no matter how hard you try, you can't quell the burgeoning feelings of gratitude that are taking root deep within you. Because, despite everything you had to endure thus far, you find a slight comfort in the fact that you are no longer confined to the dank, dreary basement.

A/N: I appreciate all the comments, likes and reblogs! you guys liking this really makes my day <3 and since this is a story that I write when I have free time, and when I just want to unwind, I don't have an outline for it yet and am just winging it, so if you have any ideas or suggestions for what you would like to see happen, I'm all ears! :) also, I was thinking of creating a taglist, so if you want to be added -- let me know.

[thelonelysoulhome]

Moratorium by Omoinotoke

Moratorium is the original ost from the film "Saezuru tori wa habatakanai : the cloud gather"

This song is really beautyful and meaningful, feels like it was written for Doumeki and Yashiro and it gives again another layer to this masterpiece. So I wanted to share it here.

This is the oficial clip with the most accurate translation. The performance is also stuning :

(Click on the link, to see the translation)

"If the sky stops singing

Will you fly to the place you should come back to ?"

That feel like Yashiro's thoughts to me, his whole narrative about the fact that Doumeki is a lost baby bird and the fear that he could return to his 'home' when the storm calm down.

"If I speak out my voice

Will the rain that wet you stop falling ?"

I interpret those lines like Doumeki's wondering, if he express his feelings for Yashiro, would that help him get's better ?

"Locked, Unable to fly "

Yashiro is trapped in this bird cage. A bird that borned in captivity can't escape 'cause he don't know how to live otherwise, even if you open the cage for him, he won't go 'cause he won't survive in the outside world, he'll choose the familiar enviroment over the wandering of the unknown, even if he suffocates inside, hee'll stay 'cause nobody ever taught him how to fly.

Some time ago I came across this masterpiece animation created by TheOneWithBear, that was made with this song:

Very emotional, impressive, every time I see it , I cry, beautifully made,

this animation is just breathtaking, gives me shivers every time.

The choke hold those panels have on me, literal goosepumps.

That..that broke me 💔 Yashiro embracing his little self... The little boy that never had any sort of consolation...Forgive yourself Yashiro, forgive yourself my dear, none of it was your fault, none of it was his fault, at least do it for the little Yashiro..try for him, try to heal..'cause he deserve it.

It touched me on so many levels, I can't find words to explain how much of an impact that had on me. (I hope sooo much that we could come to something similar in the official story 'cause those panels are engraved in my mind and heart.)

Yashiro needs to break down for good, he needs to cry..burst in tears, let out all the tears that were burried inside for too damn long.

He needs to have the courage and safety to accept that he deserves to get better, to accept that he always deserved better, that all of this was wrong...that he is not an unchanging livestock. He have to acknowledge and allow himself to mourn all the things he needed and deserved but never got, and let go the guilt and shame that never been his to carry. He is such a gentle soul, he deserve so so much, but his soul was so deeply wounded and mistreated that he can't see the light in within himself, febrile, hidden deeply inside him, it's weak but it's still there.

A light that was revived by Doumeki.

Doumeki always been the key, but Yashiro needs to open up to let Doumeki gets in, 'cause it's only when HE will choose to be saved, that he could accept Doumeki's hand.

Doumeki will never be free, not as long as Yashiro is trapped. They need each other to live.

Please, give them enough time to break free together...To end together...even if it's mean that they'll rest forever.

[miamochi-writes]

Miamochi!

Your Vash x reader writings are the cutest! Thank you for giving us such good content! I hope you’re doing well! Could you do a Vash x reader where y/n is trying to tend to Vash’s wounds and he refuses to because he’s self-conscious about his scars. So the reader resorts to showing they’re scars in the hopes of getting him to trust them? I seriously hope this makes sense and that you’re comfortable with it!

anyways I love your blog! Xx💖

A/n: Thank you so much for liking my content! And the way I put so much time into this request and using my old nursing skills into this. Hope you like it!

Warning: slight mention of blood

Scars to Your Beautiful

"Come on Y/n, I'm fine really," Vash insisted.

"Vash, you were shot at not too long ago, you're not fine!" you argued.

"You don't need to worry, I can take care of it," he persisted.

"Vash, I'm the medic in this group and you're bleeding from the back. Just please let me patch you up!" you asserted yourself.

You hardly ever argued with Vash, but when you did it was a battle of two stubborn mules. Neither of you were willing to budge or change your mind. All this happened because the military police stumbled upon your group when you were looking for some extra supplies for your next trip. You managed to lose them, but Vash ended up getting shot twice. One from the back and one at the front. Thankfully they weren't near his vital organs, but that didn't stop you from panicking. You immediately dragged him back to the hotel and into your room where you had him sit on your bed while your first aid kit was on the chair across from him. You managed to get him to remove his red jacket, but he refused to let you treat him.

"Y/n, please I can take care of myself," Vash spoke again as you pouted.

"Vash, last time you bandaged your wound, it didn't properly close because you didn't rest or clean it before wrapping it up," you pointed out. Vash flinched when you mentioned the incident before and he knew you were right about that.

"Still, I can take care of it now," Vash waved it off.

"Even the wound on your back?" you asked as Vash stiffened. You got him again, and you wondered what excuse he would throw at you this time. You sighed at how much he was refusing your help. If it was the other way around, he would make sure you get treated. But with him, you wondered why he was so set on not letting you help. You then placed your first aid kit on the floor and sat on the chair across from him.

"Vash…why won't you let me patch you up? Do you not trust me?" you questioned with a bit of hurt evident in your tone. He knows he's seen you take care of civilians who were injured and take care of Wolfwood's cuts and scratches from fights. Everyone knew you were more than capable of being a medic, but why was the one person you deeply cared for refusing your help? You then felt a hand on your shoulder and looked at Vash. You could tell his face was conflicted with many emotions, but the one that was more evident was guilt. His blue eyes locked into your caring e/c eyes. You could tell he was struggling to say something and finding the words to tell you. His mouth slightly opening, closing, and then biting his lip.

"Y/n, I- I understand you want to help. I trust you, it's just that...it's complicated," he managed to utter out as he looked away from you at the last part. He withdrew his prosthetic arm and folded his arms, almost as if he was holding himself. You cocked an eyebrow at his answer and his body language. Just what was so complicated about you trying to take care of him. You then tried to reach your arm out to Vash slowly and rested on his right shoulder. The moment your hand touched his shoulder, he flinched. This caught you off guard, since Vash was usually physically expressive around you. He would always take the chance to rest his arm around your shoulder or grab your hand to show you something he was excited about. So seeing him react like this with you was strange.

You retracted your arm back as Vash looked at you with guilt once more. It looked like he wanted to reach out to you with his flesh hand, but stopped midway. You thought about how he was acting towards you today, and when you touched his shoulder, you felt something odd on his shoulder that wasn't his prosthetic or the texture of his clothing. You decided to ask one more question.

"Vash, are you refusing my help because you're afraid of me seeing something?" you asked. Vash then froze and still looked away from you. But he wasn't denying your assumption. Furthermore, him turning his body away from you and biting his lip reinforced that idea. You had an idea why Vash might be hesitant with you treating him. If your hunch was right, you had one option on how he might let you, but it would mean getting personal with Vash. You stood up from your chair and took a deep breath. This caught Vash's attention as he was wondering what you were planning to do.

You walked towards your hotel door and double locked the entrance. You then turned to Vash and walked back to him. You then looked down at your jacket. You slowly started unzipping it to where it showed your sleeveless top. Then, you slowly lifted your top to show your midriff. Once Vash saw you lifting your top, he immediately turned red and covered his face.

"Y/n! W-what are you?" Vash asked. Before he could finish asking his question, he spotted something he never thought he'd see. On the side of your abdominal area was a long and slightly thick horizontal scar on your left side. On the lower right side looked to be several smaller but thicker scars. You didn't look up, but you could already hear the questions Vash was about to ask you.

"I had these for a long time now. I got most of them from being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some were from escaping fights and others were from trying to protect myself. I didn't have any money to get the help needed. And since no one told me how to properly take care of my wounds, they didn't heal properly. I hated how much they stood out on my body that I kept picking at them," you explained. You never really showed anyone your scars for this reason, but you figured you would show Vash. Hopefully this would convince him on letting you take care of him. You then took off your jacket that revealed the top portion of your top. On your right shoulder, were three large scars that looked like something clawed at you.

"These scars are the reason I became a medic. I want to help people as much as I can and give them an option to be treated. Or at least prevent them from making the same mistakes I did. These things really haven't been the best towards my self-esteem," you dryly chuckled as you pulled down your top. Then you looked at Vash who just stared at you with those blue eyes of his. He wasn't saying anything, and the silence was agonizing. Maybe you overstepped your boundaries.

"Sorry, that was TMI. Just forget about it," you apologized while getting ready to bolt out of the room.

"Y/n wait," Vash called out as he grabbed your hand. You looked back at him to see his eyes filled with more mixed emotions. His grip on you wasn't tight, but it was firm enough to let you know he wanted you to stay. He walked you back to the bed as he sat down while you stood up.

"You have no reason to apologize. If anything I should...here," Vash started talking. He then let go of your hand as he started taking off his black top. Your eyes landed on his chest and your hunch was correct. There were large scars, metal plating, and seams covering most of his body. There were so many past injuries that you could tell he got from either falling, blunt trauma, or deep cuts from some kind of weapon. You knew Vash always ended up in dangerous situations, but what you saw showed how much hell he actually went through during his travels.

"Well this is a bit embarrassing, huh?" Vash sheepishly chuckled with that fake smile he flashed you. Even now he was trying to make light of the situation. You took a seat on the chair across from him and grabbed both of his hands. He looked at you as you squeezed both of his hands while rubbing small circles on them.

"Vash...that was really brave of you to do that. I know that wasn't easy to do, but thank you. I promise I'll make this quick," you thanked him as you began to work. You told Vash to turn around so you could face his back and handed him a clean cloth and instructed him to press it on his wound at the front. You needed to make sure to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Once that was done, you readied the alcohol solution you carried and dabbed it on a few cotton balls.

"This might sting, but I'm just disinfecting the wound," you warned Vash.

"No worries, I trust you," Vash said quietly but flashed you a reassuring small smile. You smiled at him as well, but you braced yourself with what you were going to do next. Vash flinched once you started dabbing the cotton balls on the wound. You muttered a sorry to the blonde, but he kept brushing it off. Soon you added some antibiotic ointment and dressed the wound properly. Once you placed the bandage on him, you softly pressed it onto this skin and could feel Vash stiffen. Your heart sunk, as you knew how hard it was being vulnerable and having your scars exposed like this. You recognized the types of scars he had and how he might have gotten them. To think he hid them so well from everyone blew your mind.

You then asked him to face you so you could take care of the other wound at the front. This time his wound was located on the front side of his abdomen. Thankfully it was a thin bullet graze. As you worked, you could feel Vash's eyes on you. You figured he had a lot on his mind, especially after making yourselves both vulnerable.

"Thanks for letting me do this. I know this isn't easy for you. But I wanted to make sure you were okay and were taken care of properly. You've always done a lot for me, and I wanted to return the favor," you started but Vash stayed quiet.

"After seeing your scars, I realized two things about you. One, you care so much for people. You're selfless and willing to put your life on the line for them, and it just goes to show much you're willing to protect those in need," you spoke as you were cleaning his wound.

"The second, I still think you're beautiful inside and out," you added as you started bandaging his wound. You could feel Vash's eyes boring a hole through your head as you let out a soft smile.

"I know with my scars, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin for the longest time. So it took a lot for me to show my scars today, but I'm happy I did. We both took a risk today and we got to learn more about each other. I remember one of the doctors I was training under telling me that scars can tell a lot about a person and hold stories about a person's past. So after seeing your scars, I realized I'm not the only one with scars. Your scars show how much you look out for others, and that's what makes you Vash. I don't think any less of you. In fact, I admire you a lot more after today," you finished as you slightly brushed your finger against one of his scars.

You poured your heart out to him. He needed to know that after being so vulnerable with you on so many levels. You then started putting away your kit and got up from your seat ready to take your leave.

"I'm all done now. I'll make sure to change out the bandages once in awhile so they can heal properly," you told him. Before you could leave, you felt your top being tugged from behind. You turned around to see Vash looking at you with a face that said don't go yet. He walked up towards you with his eyes locked onto yours.

"Did you mean all that?" he asked as you nodded your head. He then pulled you towards him and held you in a tight embrace. Your eyes widened at the sudden action and immediately grew flustered after realizing your face was pressed against his bare chest. A red blush was plastered over your cheeks as your heart was becoming erratic.

"I'm sorry I was trying to push you away earlier, and that I made you do something uncomfortable because of me. But thank you for putting up with me and taking care of my injuries. It makes me happy that you don't think any less of me after seeing me like this. Also, after seeing your scars...I still think you're the most stunning person I've ever met. I'm glad to have you stick by me," Vash added as you looked up to see him give you a genuine smile that you knew too well with his eyes staring fondly at you.

"You think I'm stunning?" you asked as your face grew hot. You knew Vash was always sincere about his feelings towards others, but you wanted to hear it from him again just to be sure.

"Of course I do. It's another reason I like you so much," Vash replied as you had to do a double take. Vash chuckled at your actions as you tried to process what he said.

"Did I hear that right? You like me too?" you asked again as Vash brought his human hand to caress your face.

"I like you Y/n. I always have, and I can prove it if you let me," he said as you saw a pink blush rest on his cheeks.

"Prove it," you told him. Vash then smiled and gave you soft kiss on your lips as you closed your eyes. You could feel how gentle he was towards you with this simple but powerful action alone. You finally hugged him back as your hand rested on his side, while his prosthetic arm held the small of your back. Once Vash pulled away, you looked at him to see he was staring at you lovingly.

"How was that?" he asked as you still couldn't believe that he actually kissed you.

"Did I take your breath away?" he asked as you started laughing.

"You're lucky I like you a lot," you answered as you planted a tender kiss on his lips. When you parted again, you looked at Vash who pulled you in for a tigther hug.

"Can we stay like this for a little longer?" he asked. After everything that happened today, how could you possibly say no to him?

[sillypooperscooper]

Decided to rewrite the scene where Aphmau sees Garroth’s face for the first time because I’m insane !!

Aphmau paused for a moment as she reached the mine's entrance. After finally having her own thoughts and fears laid to rest she finally took a moment to realize what she's about to do, to realize what this information might do to Garroth. Zenix was like a son to him, he took him in when he was young and raised the boy to the best of his abilities. However, now....he'll never see him the same, not after learning about his horrendous deeds, what he did to this village, to their previous lord and his family. Aphmau took a deep breath, reminding herself to tread carefully when approaching this subject with Garroth, the wounds were still fresh after all.

She began her decent into the mines.

"Garroth...?" Before her was a man slumped over, seated on the raw cobblestone ground. He held his head low in one hand as the other gripped a diamond sword. It stood tall in front of his crestfallen form, almost as if it was shielding him from others, from her.

Garroth cracked one eye open as he looked up at her before shutting it again, he winced in pain and turned his head to the side, avoiding her gaze, "Don't look at me Aphmau..."

Aphmau paused with her mouth slightly agape, he was nothing like she'd imagined him to be. For one, she expected the man to be far older than what he seemed to be, perhaps due to the way he spoke or the way in which he carried himself. Instead, a decently young man was presented before her. She let herself study his features for a moment, noting his feathery blond hair and cerulean blue eyes.

"Garroth...your face..."

He sighed deeply, "I failed the village...it's people...everyone," his voice was gruff and filled with anger, but then grew somber, "even you..."

"That's nonsense!" Instinctively, Aphmau stepped towards him with a hand out, ready to comfort him, but she stopped herself, "You're my knight..."

Garroth remained silent.

Aphmau's heart panged slightly, knowing that her words weren't enough to comfort him.

Against her better judgement she decided to ask the one question that had been plaguing her mind since she first set eyes on Garroth's unmasked figure, "Why did you hide your face?"

He paused for a moment before finally facing her, looking straight into her big brown eyes, "I never wanted you to see me like this."

Her eyes softened under his gaze as she tilted her head quizzically, "But why...?"

Garroth spent so long wearing a helmet that he forgot how intimate a look could be, it was all too much too quickly so he averted her gaze once again, "It's a long story, one I'd rather not get into at the moment...maybe ever, but did you manage to find Levin's mother?"

"Yes." Aphmau's tone grew heavy as she lowered her gaze.

He felt her eyes leave him. His diamond sword was still propped up in front of him, almost acting as a barrier between them. Hearing her shaky voice pulled at his emotions and despite feeling exposed and vulnerable, he dropped it to the side and reached out to her. Without thinking, he outstretched his hand in an attempt to hold hers, but he stoped himself. Garroth realized that this touch would be far too intimate for a Lord and her guard to share, so instead he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, urging her to continue.

She wiped away a stray tear, "I found her but...Zenix."

He froze.

"He was holding her captive. I wanted to save her, bring her back to Levin and let them be a family again but..." Aphmau sighed deeply before once again turning to face him, "She decided to stay behind, for Levin's sake. She said they'd hurt him if she didn't..."

Garroth gently removed his hand from her shoulder, sliding down her upper arm before returning to him, "What a noble woman, to make such a sacrifice like that...to stay away from her son for his own safety."

Aphmau looked into his eyes for a moment, pensively chewing the inside of her cheek as she pondered something.

He felt the intense urge to look away, but instead held her gaze.

"Do you...remember her?"

He took a moment to think, digging deep into his mind in search of any recollection of Matilda, his brows furrowed in thought. "Matilda...No, I've never heard the name. I would remember too."

"Hm, I see..." Aphmau hummed in acceptance, realizing that Garroth was also affected by the magic that caused the village to forget their previous Lord.

Garroth shut his eyes and sighed deeply before suddenly standing up, "This is too much to take in Aphmau, way too much. Zenix was...I raised him since he was a kid. To think that he was involved in the murder of a Lord...what village was it anyway?"

Aphmau froze, his deep blue eyes were looking down on her and bore into her soul, twisting her heart with guilt. He was right, this was all too much for him. Aphmau knew that this would push him over the edge, so she lied. His eyes were so full of sadness and regret, how could she not lie? How could she do nothing else but spare his feelings? "I...I don't know, he didn't say."

"I see. I wouldn't imagine he'd tell you anyways." Garroth sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, only now did Aphmau realize just how exhausted he looked. "Well it seems like you need some well deserved rest."

He extended out his hand, offering to help Aphmau up. She took his hand and he lifted her to her feet, "What're you going to do now?"

"I'm going to stay down here for a few hours, I need some time to recover my pride. I'm not running I just...it becomes overwhelming, failing so many people in the village." He reached down to pick up his sword, no longer looking at Aphmau.

"You didn't fail anyone, Garroth. I swear." Her words were stern as she clenched her teeth, she never wanted him to blame himself, ever.

"Kind words Aphmau," he was now facing away from her, but he smiled softly to himself before returning back to his somber expression, "but they don't help how I feel right now. I'll be back to helping up there, right now I think I'm going to mine some materials and try to clear my head from this mood I'm in. We'll talk more about what to do with Levin tomorrow." Garroth turned to look at Aphmau before giving her a reassuring smile, "Let's just make sure he's got a nice roof over his head to keep him warm."

A loving smile stretched across her face as she thought of Levin and how lucky he was to have someone as kind as Garroth in his life...how lucky she was.

[himeryu]

– Love Rivalry: 46. stay gold

kaveh x reader

"So, that's the story."

Kaveh sits there in shock, eyes wide. Maybe you shouldn't have told him. Your past with Alhaitham is heavy; it is not something to take lightly. If one word could describe your past with the man, it would be regret. You regret looking for him; you regret hoping; you regret expecting. 

Alhaitham was a cruel lesson to learn. It took you a long time to return to normal; however, you were far from "normal." Your wounded heart tried its best to bandage itself, but the wound inflicted on them was too much to bear. If it wasn't for your friends, you wouldn't have recovered. 

"I'm sorry," you bitterly chuckle, avoiding his gaze. "It's quite heavy, right?" 

Fear takes over your body. What if Kaveh leaves you because of your past? Would he leave you like how Alhaitham did that day? 

"Why are you apologizing?" Kaveh says softly, the gentle tone of his voice stuns you slightly. "I should be thanking you for opening up to me."

You look at him; his gentle ruby eyes make your heart skip a beat, washing away all your worries. Kaveh, the man who entered your life out of nowhere. Meeting him wasn't part of your goals, but you're glad you did. Who knew you'd be this fond of the blonde man? 

You giggle as Kaveh looks at you intimately, "You're right." 

Suddenly, Kaveh places his hand on top of yours. You blush. "What are you doing?" You ask in a shakey voice, but there was no response. Kaveh clumsily fiddles his fingers with yours, his face flushed in a deep shade of red akin to his eyes. "My dad used to do this to make me feel better." 

You listen intently, "My emotions usually get the best of me, making me immature at times. But every time my dad did this, I'd calm down." He says with a bittersweet smile as he recalls his childhood. You stare at Kaveh in worry. 'He must've had a rough childhood,' you think; However, you stay silent, not uttering a word.

"I've never done this to someone else, so please tell me when you're uncomfortable." Kaveh bashfully smiles. Butterflies flutter your stomach at the physical touch, almost like you're a teenager again. It's childish, feeling flustered over hand-holding. But, isn't it cute?

"It's fine," You whisper shyly, "I don't mind."

"You know," His grip on your hand lightly tightens, "I'm very emotional. Like, I cry a lot. Every time I get too mad, I cry; Every time I get too happy, I cry. I might become a burden to you."

He inhales deeply, preparing his words as you wait. "Despite that..." He continues, "I want to be by your side." 

Your mouth is slightly agape, speechless by his words. "Am I allowed to?" Kaveh meekly asks; his face goes warm from embarrassment, shading itself in light pink.

Your face-- too-- flushes. Bystanders look at your table with pleased expressions as they repeatedly think of youthful love. However, you and Kaveh pay no mind as if you two are the only ones in the restaurant. Your heart beats quickly and loudly that you swear the waiter who just passed by most likely heard it.

Ah, since when was the last time someone other than your friends made you this happy?

"Of course," You agree. Kaveh's eyes sparkles like gold by your words.

Then, Kaveh smiles once again. But this time, it's different. His smile radiantly beams his surroundings, making the lights of the restaurant pale in contrast to his smile. His smile is sweet like candy, something you will never get tired of. 

How pretty. 

It's nearing 2 AM, and you and Kaveh are just returning home. It was fun, the date. At first, you thought it was just a whim, something small. You never expected your relationship with Kaveh to grow oh so quickly. Though your time spent with Kaveh is short, you treasure those moments with him.

From this day onward, you're determined to know more about Kaveh. Meeting him was like a siren bewitching you with its voice, making you want more. Or a succubus seducing you with its charisma, reducing you into their slave. Some wild metaphors, but you can't deny it.

Kaveh charmed you.

Sure, you're a bit scared, but Kaveh means no harm. You trust him, but your trust in him is still small; it has yet to reach unconditional trust. You can't help it. As much as your relationship with the man is fast-paced, you wish to take your time.

Finally, you arrive at his apartment complex. You shift to your side to see Kaveh sleeping. The dim light from outside lightly kisses his face, giving it a soft shine. You notice the eyebags under his blonde eyelashes-- most likely caused by his sleepless nights as an architecture student.'

A small smile finds itself on your face as you admire Kaveh. You can trust him. It would be different compared to him.

Because Kaveh is different.

You bring your hand on his arm, slowly shaking him to wake him up. Kaveh grunts, shaking his head. You chuckle, "Kaveh, we're here."

"Mhmm," He frowns, turning to look the other way. You remove your grip on his arm. "Are you okay?" You tenderly say.

Kaveh nods. Though, his eyes are still shut.

"Kaveh, open your eyes."

"Don't wanna," he murmurs.

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as you think of a solution to wake this sleepy man. Then, a thought crossed your mind making you smirk mischievously. You carry your torso closer to the passenger seat. You smirk-- not like he can see it.

"What? Do you need a kiss to wake up?" You whisper gingerly.

Kaveh's body tenses. Blood rushes through his cheeks, making them shade a light pink. However, he refuses to open his eyes.

You grin, "How cute."

main m.list | series m.list | previous | next

SYNOPSIS You’ve been rejected by your academic rival, alhaitham, without even confessing or having feelings for him. You decided to go to a party to fix your damaged ego, so why are you suddenly making out with his roommate?

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[quinloki]

A Light Touch

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

CW: language, assault, violence, sexual themes and situations, implications of non-con, loss of limbs, blood. 18+ Only.

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 16: Benefactor

You stayed down in the basement for hours. You could hear the crew working upstairs to clean up the glass and start repairing the house. Your emotions were all over the place, and you weren't having an easy time trying to organize them, let alone process them.

Your heart hurt, it ached so deeply you almost wanted to rip it from your chest just to have a moment's relief. You couldn't heal it, there was no physical wound to mend to bring some sort of relief.

Eventually Emma came down with a tray of food. She didn't say anything until she was sure you had seen it.

"I'll come get it later, but I wanted you to know that you can go back to your room if you want. Or, well, anywhere in the house." There's sadness in Emma's voice and so you know the whole rest of the crew knows.

"Thanks." You respond, pulling the tray close as she leaves.

The food's warm, and it makes you feel a little better. You hadn't had a chance to eat before all hell had broke loose, and you hadn't realized how much it was making everything else sink into you.

You had no idea what you were going to do. The only thing you knew for sure was you needed to think really hard on it before you made any decisions, and sulking in the basement wasn't going to help. Not that you didn't have a right to be angry, but you didn't want to make any decisions because of your anger.

First thing, you wanted a shower, and clothes that were clean. Clothes that were actual clothes too, being in your pjs felt like a depression move and you didn't want that either.

You got up, tray in hand and head upstairs. You come out of the basement carefully, not because you're worried about another attack, but you don't know how much glass is still on the floors, or where Kid is. Right now, you're not sure if you want to see him.

He had left earlier without a word. You didn't know what expression was on his face since you couldn't bring yourself to look at anyone. You didn't know if it mattered right now, since you were still raw.

You see Killer in the kitchen, cleaning up and prepping for dinner. When you set the tray down, he turns in your direction.

"Thanks Em— er." Killer freezes in place. It's almost funny to see a guy as big and intimidating as him be so shook up by you.

"Thanks." You say, knowing he had made the food. "I'm going to my room. I... just need to think on stuff."

"Let me know when you're hungry again." He says evenly. There's a twitch in his body like he wants to reach out and say something more, but he doesn't.

"Where is he?" You ask with a sigh.

"Out. You won't run into him in the house." Killer assures you.

You nod, and head up to your room.

The stairs feel big. The open space in the middle of the staircase feels empty. The higher up you get the colder things feel. Like there's a series of walls closing between you and the entire crew with each step you take.

The window in your room is boarded up with thick planks and metal bars. Aside from the basement it might be the safest place in the whole house right now. Stepping into the bathroom, even the few small windows in here were reinforced.

You could feel your body relax.

A long shower and a longer soak in the tub were the beginning of what you needed. You used all the little creams and oils you could get your hands on and just let your mind wander. Water made it easier to think. Made it easier to be relaxed while you thought. Made it more comfortable to feel and cry, and you didn't know why it worked that way, but you were grateful for it.

When you came out of the bathroom and got dressed you realized you were far less angrier than you had been earlier, which meant you could start to sit down and think about what had happened.

And what you meant to do.

Before you could really let yourself dig in to your thoughts, your phone rings. It wasn't a number you had saved, and your stomach knotted immediately.

After a few rings it stopped, and a moment after that you got a text from the same number.

Unknown: I'm not Vander Decken, Miss (Y/N).

You look at the text in disbelief before picking up the phone and texting back.

You: Who are you?

Unknown: A benefactor. A friend of your father's.

You: I don't know who my father is, how can you? How could I even trust what you're saying?

Unknown: I have proof, but the validity of my relationship to your father is not why I'm reaching out to you. I wish to help with your stalker issue, Miss (Y/N).

You: Why now?

Unknown: I had promised your father I wouldn't directly interfere in your life. However, that brat Kid isn't handling this well enough, and I felt the need to intervene more directly.

Your brows knit. Only you were allowed to be angry at Kid right now, who did this asshole think he was bad-mouthing your "it's complicated" status update?

You: Kid's done a lot for me.

Unknown: I could do more.

You: who are you? And don't give some vague benefactor bullshit.

You: Wait, did you pay my hospital bills?

Unknown: I did.

Unknown: Go find that blonde cook of his, and then call this number. I won't divulge who I am over text, young lady.

Your blood nearly froze you in place. There was a level of knowledge coming from this unknown number that unsettled you deeply. You were also certain that it was best for Killer to know about it than for you to keep it secret, so you took your phone downstairs with you.

"Killer!" You called out, assuming he was in the kitchen. Sure enough he stepped out into the landing of the stairs as you came down to meet him. You scrolled your phone to the start of the texts and handed it to him. "Read this."

Killer's eyes were usually hidden by his hair, but you could see the light in those baby blues as the scowl on his face. He handed the phone back to you.

"Call it."

"Sure," you prompt the phone to call the number associated with the texts and after a couple rings a velvety voice fills the air between you and Killer.

"Miss (Y/N), and Killer, how nice to hear from you."

"Who are you?" You ask again, but when you look up to Killer you see his scowl deepen.

"He's a Warlord." Killer says, and you're impressed at how steady his voice is.

"I see my reputation is intact. I am Donquixote Doflamingo, young Miss (Y/N), and your father was my right-hand man."

"...What? Wait what? A Warlord?! You're a Warlord!" You nearly drop the phone, but Killer catches it as your legs buckle and you sit down on the floor with a thump.

"Indeed. Your father-."

"No. No." You put your hands up even though he can't see you. "Absolutely not. I don't want to know anything. I have enough on my plate right now, I refuse to hear one word about my father."

"... Very well. Then to the matter at hand," he says, emphasizing the last word in a way that made you flinch. "The day after tomorrow a limo will arrive at your apartment. You, young lady, will be there, and I will guarantee that it will be safe for you to be there. At that point you will do me the courtesy of making a decision."

"Eh?"

"Get into the limo and I will protect you, not only from your stalker, but from the weight of your heritage. You will want for nothing and have all that you could desire, but you will forfeit any alliance with brats like Kid and his generation. You will be a member of my family and your loyalty will not be split."

"If I don't get into the limo?"

"Then I will not intervene in any way with your life - personally or professionally." His voice isn't disappointed, and something about that unnerves you.

"What if I don't show up at all?"

"I would advise you to not snub a Warlord, young lady. You are family enough that I'm willing to give you an option, don't insult me for it." There's an edge in his voice that twists your stomach and makes your face go pale. You can almost feel the hand at your throat from the words alone.

"She'll be there." Killer says, the assurance more for you than Doflamingo.

"Indeed. Take today and tomorrow to think it over. You won't have to worry about any disturbances slipping through the cracks in the meantime. Go outside and enjoy a proper taste of freedom, Miss (Y/N)."

The line goes dead, and you just sit there for a few long minutes. After a moment, Killer sits on the floor with you, setting the phone between the two of you.

"Kid's going to blow a gasket." You say finally.

"Yup."

"Killer?"

"Hm?"

"I have questions."

"I will answer what I can."

"So you're not just a crew or gang. Y'all are the Kings of the South Blue, like how they call Luffy and his crew the Kings of East Blue."

"Yup."

"Hookay." You let out a breath and lay down on the floor. Kings were contenders from the world making their way through Grandline Metro to find the One Piece. It's why there were so many Devil Fruit users in the 600 sq km of the city. The city's underbelly was a gauntlet and took people years to get through.

Some Kings became Warlords - either because the World Government scouted them, or because they applied for the position by doing something meritorious in the eyes of the Government. Some Kings became Emperors, but that was a nearly impossible feat because the Emperors themselves were so entrenched.

Most Kings died or retired when they realized they had bashed against their dream to the point of defeat.

Kid didn't strike you as someone who quit. As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure you knew how he lost his arm. He was either going to find the One Piece, lose the race to it, or die in the attempt.

Suddenly, you were angry that Luffy and the others had educated you on all this when they were trying to recruit you.

If you became a part of Kid's crew, you'd face Luffy and the others eventually.

"Fuck." You stare up at the ceiling. "That explains a lot." You sigh. Eustass would need to fly under the radar in order to keep his foundations stable while he pushed into the city. Eventually the Marines would get mixed into things but the longer you could avoid them the better your chances.

If he had outed himself as a Devil Fruit user on the traffic cameras to save someone he didn't know, he would've sacrificed everything the crew had worked for to that point. It wasn't just a matter of having to register and pay some fines.

Even if it was just registering and paying fines, he didn't know you from the next faceless rube when the accident happened. He had no reason to risk his growing empire for you.

"Who's Doflamingo's right hand man?" You ask after a long silence.

"I don't know who is now," Killer replies. "But a year ago it was a man named Vergo."

"I'm guessing he didn't retire."

"I heard he had been posing as a Marine for a long time. Something blew his cover and he died." Killer explains.

"So then for a few months Doflamingo consolidates his losses, and eventually decides to - I guess - pay homage to his friend and tosses his daughter a bone in the shape of a really lucrative job offer." You grumble into the air. "Except a drunk guy rear ends her on the way there and utter chaos ensues."

"I don't think you're wrong." He agrees. "Doflamingo is fanatical about family, he probably wanted to do more."

Tears slip down the side of your face, but you're not sobbing. There's no pain in your heart, and you're not even sure you're truly sad, but a single thought sits in your heart as the errant tears dry on your face.

"Both my parents are dead." You say softly to no one in particular. "I never expected I'd meet my father, but... the finality of this feels heavier than I thought."

"Sorry, (Y/N)." Killer offers after a long silence.

You breathe in and let out a sigh. "It's okay. Mom did her best. I guess in a weird way, my dad did too. Sounds like he had the backing to do whatever he wanted, and that at least explains why mom was so paranoid. In the end though, he let her raise me like she wanted."

You stared at the ceiling for another long minute. "What in the hells am I going to do?" You were muttering to yourself more than anything as you sat up. "I hate to ask you this, but can you tell Kid about this? I still need to think on some stuff before I can, um... y'know."

"Sure." Killer stands up, dusting his jeans off. "Hey, uh, look I don't know that I have a right to say this, but um..."

"Fire away, Killer." You prompt, standing up as well.

"I've known Kid almost his whole life. He's gonna push you toward Doflamingo. I shouldn't say that, being who I am, but I feel like you have a right to know it won't be because he wants to."

"Being who you are?"

"... I'm his right-hand, (Y/N). It's not my place to sabotage what the Captain decides."

"Your secret's safe with me." You assure him, starting your long trek back up the steps to your room.

[justekasmindx]

09/11

Trying to sit down and be comfortable with your own emotions determines how broad your self-awareness is; realizing that you are not your emotional rages, relapses, or traumas. It's just a piece of you that you observe, give it time to process, and then assist it in moving past it.

I have this favorite line by Jennifer Anniston in a renowned movie, while she was furious but yet attempting to maintain composure, "My anger is a puddle, I simply step out." I find it applicable to any emotions that seem to be beyond our control.

Below are the questions we can ask ourselves to ascertain what we are going through:

1. What emotions are present?

2. Which part of the body is hurting or uncomfortable?

3. What are my body movements?

3. Can we just watch the feelings without judging them or trying to change them?

4. Inhale, exhale.

5. Imagine putting them in a little fish tank, and then I watch them move.

The point is that if you separate your emotions from yourself, you will have a different perspective on them. You will be able to watch yourself struggle. It depends on how much you know yourself when you see yourself having a difficult time. How would you help yourself to feel better? What are the love languages that you need to feel loved? What do you think you need at the very moment? Now, this varies for each person. Sharing with you the steps I take to make myself feel better. I might have liked all love languages because all of them work for me.

1. Words of affirmation and empathy. These words would not always come from other people, and if they try, they don't know how deep your wound is, and definitely, they do not mind-read to know the exact words that you need to hear. First, validate your emotions and remind yourself that it is normal to feel negative emotions; you have valid reasons to feel that way. People may not understand where you're coming from, but please be confident in being there for yourself when no one else does.

2. Activities that work for you—Retail therapy is one of the activities that works for me. I just roamed around a mall for a few hours and ate a piece of my favorite pastry. I buy myself a little gift. It doesn't have to be expensive; it is just something that will make me smile or make me feel comfortable. This definitely shows I like Gift-giving or receiving. Self-pampering is another example. I just sometimes enter a salon to get my nails done and let them wash my hair or do a facial for me, because another form of receiving love language for me is Acts of Service. I spend time listening to myself and taking notes on my thoughts by journaling or doing my hobbies like mountaineering or creating art; this one goes into the category of Quality Time. Now, Physical Touch is something I cannot give to myself, and my close friends who know me deeply will automatically give me a hug. I get hugs from two close friends at work; my job causes me stress, and these friends are gems; they know how to support other people emotionally.

I never thought that I would be subtly listing down the steps on how to love myself. This is so funny.

Remember that discovering yourself in the depths of your emotions will bring both wisdom and confusion. But be patient, because no one else will know every detail about you. It is your mind and body; you have to take responsibility for it. Also, beware of the environment, because energy is contagious. Either you influence them with your negative emotions or other people will make you feel even worse. Take care of yourself and discover more, and it will lead you to know your own worth. Knowing your worth will make you respect yourself more, and the rest of the good things will follow.

Everyone is struggling like us. Be aware, smarter, and kind.

[rcksmith]

Felling — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Hi love could you maybe do #38 from the fluff prompts for Five where maybe Five is struggling with accepting the reader trying to be like romantic or affectionate with him !!! Thank you I love you !!!!”

Fluff Prompts:

38. “You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I loved this request so much! I found it so cute and adorable!! ❤️ I hope it got close to what you wanted. I love you❤️

Here I used some fragments of Five's original chronology because it would help with the plot, but guys, keep in mind, please, that he is a 20 or more.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Just bad words, it is very fluff.

— — — — — —

The Hargreeves were a family full of wounds, trauma and deep-seated fears. They were trained to be super heroes. Strong, courageous, centered, perfect. And that was why no emotion could be on the way to that goal. Feeling love, passion, affection and affection was the gateway to becoming vulnerable. And a superhero couldn't be vulnerable. So they were denied that their whole lives.

Within each one pulsed a different problem, a different trauma. Denying love to a child only made him develop complications to connect with his emotions, feel empathy and be able to deal with different contrasts in a healthy way.

The Hargreeves brothers' lives were not easy, but some of them found, in the beginning, a way to connect with different types of love; Luther and Alissom for each other, Diego for the maternal love, Klaus and Ben in the partnership and complicity for each other. Vayna found her way in love for her brothers when her biggest internal problems were resolved.

But Five... well, Five was alone in the abyss of the apocalypse.

He did not have a chance to mature his feelings, deal with his psychological and transform the various traumas into something productive and healthy. Then, in the midst of loneliness, devastation and chaos, Five just threw his feelings under the rug until, like his childhood brothers, they stopped harassing him.

As they never had the opportunity to mature, those sensations remained on a primitive level. And his complications to bond with his emotions became even more broken when Five had to kill for the Commission.

Facing death and being the author of such devastation was not a mild endeavor. The smell of death was still in the air if Five stopped to concentrate on breathing, and the murder scenes were still fresh in his mind when he slept. But, just as Five did with any feeling, he just pushed them under the rug once again.

He didn't want to deal with them. They brought, for Five, pains, fears, weaknesses and a constant reminder that, perhaps, he... had failed in many things. And Five hated seeing himself as a failure.

And that was when he came home. And even when the waters have calmed down, when the winter breeze gently touched his face, when he can rest, dealing with feelings was something he still repudiated.

But that's when Five met you, and his whole world was turned upside down. When you first looked into his eyes, fierce, warm heat swept through Five's body, from the top of his head to his toes. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Five thought it was just a second of madness, in which his system had given a blue screen for something else, not for you. But as soon as you smiled at him, there was a quick feeling of being stabbed near the diaphragm or in the belly. His composure didn't waver an inch, but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The situation took on unimaginable proportions. You are going the Hargreeves mansion a lot times , since, what has been said, you were friends with the brothers, and Five lived lost in an agitated sea of ​​exasperating feelings whenever he was near you.

You were brilliant as the sun, smiling as happiness, beautiful as masterpieces and stunning as the evening. You were the personification of…Perfection, was the Five thought at the time. And it almost broke his heart, because he could never have you for himself.

Five couldn't because, as much as he refused to admit it, wouldn't know how. He couldn't because the whirlwind of emotions was a fierce scream that caused a stir in his mind. Five looked at you and saw a masterpiece - sublime and human art at the same time - and he didn't know how to name those emotions. And now, unexpectedly trapped by the intensity, Five was unable to reason properly when he was close to you.

All he could see was an excessively beautiful girl who was standing in front of him as something he wanted very much. And if you understood the state Five was in whenever you talked to him, you would have stopped at the first sentence. No, if you really understood, you would end up running as fast as you could. But you could not understand what Five did not understand.

So he preferred the loneliness of the apocalypse to those emotions that made him feel hot and cold at the same time, which seemed like his stomach was filling with birds, all beating their wings and trying to escape, and then his hands started to shake.

Five didn't know what it was all about, a mixture of emotions; attraction, passion, an overwhelming desire to touch you. But even if he knew how to name it all, he wouldn't know how to act. Five was a genius, he could solve the biggest equations about space and time with his eyes closed, but as a lover, however, he put his feet in his hands.

Five never thought of the most tender emotions without coldness and objectivity, they were great to justify the actions of human beings. But you have revoked absolutely everything.

Over time, it started to hurt physically in Five not to touch you, not to succumb to the most overwhelming wills. And then, one night he took refuge in a bottle of vodka, you walked in the door and it was the end for Five. He got up from the bar, came to you in determined and firm steps, and, sending everything to hell, held your face in his hands and kissed you as if he wanted to do this for a lifetime. Maybe more.

You were the opposite of Five. It was as if you were the heat and he was the ice, day and night. You burned like summer heat and Five burned like winter cold. You were everything Five was not: extroverted, agitated, knew how to deal with emotions very well, you were passionate, caring, loving, you loved physical contact. So when you returned the kiss, Five felt himself burning with your warm touch.

You wrapped your fingers around the black strands on the back of his neck, letting him put your bodies together and the kiss started to heat up. And then you said:

“You're beautiful.”

And that's where Five fell in love with you. He fell in love because when you took a breath and looked into his eyes when you said that, he felt like you could see the depths of his soul, all the secrets, all the sins, all the fears. You knew him, deeply.

Five was no longer able to stay away from you after this event. He always chose your side at a table, he was very less acid in conversation whit you were. And when you two played chess, and he let you win on purpose just to see your happy smile and your eyes shining, he knew was in trouble.

While Five tried to deal with so many new emotions and so many traumas, you were the opposite. You have been in love with him for so long, even when you saw his painting on top of the fireplace, you felt something different. So when you two kissed, came closer, you let your feelings out.

You were a loving person by nature, you loved hugging people, physical contact. You were an incorrigible romantic and, to be honest, you loved being like that. You loved feeling too much.

So with Five it was no different. You liked holding hands, hugs, more tender kisses and also quick hello kisses or bye. You loved touching physically, either way. But being like that taught you that many people didn't taste the same as you. And in the case of the Hargreeves, so broken and lost, dealing with feelings was not easy, especially to express it physically.

But with Five it was… more difficult.

He was very reserved, controlled, closed. You felt perfectly when he went rigid whenever you touched him: any affection on the arm, kiss on the cheek when you had to go to college, hugs.

You started to think that maybe he didn't like you that much or didn't want something serious, but Five was always looking for you. Whether showing up at your apartment, in your room, or going to be near you at the mansion or kissing you. So you ended up realizing that he just didn't handle feelings well.

It was very cold that night, you were in your room with the books and college notebooks on the bed, trying to solve some calculus equations, otherwise you would end up repeating in that subject. Your head was already pounding and you were getting frustrated, it was definitely not for you and your desire was to hit your head on the book and give up.

“What a nightmare.” You mumbled.

“What a nightmare?”

The voice at your side made you scream out in fright, turning to the left and seeing Five standing on the edge of your bed. The distilled moonlight came in through your open window and bathed the man in front of him with a builder in his black hair and alabaster skin, you held your breath, Five was always so beautiful that he should be considered a crime.

His hands were in the pockets of his dark pants, followed by the shirt and blazer from the Academy uniform. Five looked at you with a small condescending smile in the corner of your mouth, and you felt your heart pounding.

“Ah, it's just a college subject.” You sighed, looking at the notebooks in front of you “It's a nightmare.”

Then Five leaned forward, looking closely at your notes.

“You know where you went wrong, don't you?”

You jaw dropped, and you turned to the notebooks with your calculations. That was the only exercise that you thought was correct.

You felt frustration rising from your feet to your head, snaking through your body. You snorted, running your hand through your hair, it had been hours since you tried to understand that misfortune.

“I will never graduate, that's it. I accept the defeat of the God of mathematics.” You grunted, leaving the pencil on top of the books, giving up.

Five laughed softly, sitting beside your bed, still far enough away not to touch you.

“Give me the pencil.” He pointed to the object and you handed it over.

You frowned when Five pulled your notes to him, balanced the pencil in your other hand and redo your calculations at the end of the sheet.

You should have paid attention to what Five was doing, at each step, but the truth was that you got lost looking at him. The winter breeze shook his black strands as if they were a cloth from the night sky, his emerald green eyes were focused, and a slight crease on his forehead indicated that he was concentrating.

Your heart raced, the world seemed to stop breathing and the air took on a caustic and magical intonation. You would show all your shadows if Five showed his, you would do anything to show how sublime he was.

Then Five looked up at you, and the hemisphere seemed to make sense that second. So you leaned over and kissed him. You kissed because there was no cell in you that didn't want to kiss him. Because Five was a young god and you were just a mortal surrendered to his charms.

But you felt his muscles go rigid, the spontaneous physical contact catching him off guard.

Five burned in contradictions. It burned in the hot fire of passion and burned in the icy heat of feelings. Your touch was potent and had an overwhelming effect on Five.

He wondered what would happen if he had sex with you at that moment. Would he burn in your heat or would he be consumed by troubled emotions? Would he feel every part of your body pulse or would he lose himself in the confusion of his own mind?

Five gently parted his lips, still close enough for his breath to hit your lips.

“I feel your tension. Everything is fine.” You commented quietly.

Five just breathed, his eyes confirming to you what his words didn't say.

“I'm sorry for everything you've been through.” You were sincere, and cautiously put your hand under his. “But you have to understand that it’s normal and good to feel emotions. It's okay not to understand them. Feelings are not like math.”

Five felt your touch become more present, and you gently approach. He should have said something, but his body started to contradict his mind and he got lost in a blue shambles. He desperately wanted you. Wanted to fuck you until feel you completely and kiss you until taste love. But he also wanted to get away. He wanted to go away and push all those feelings and emotions under the rug.

But when you sat closer to him, and your hands cupped his face, Five realized he couldn't leave.

“How would you react if I did that..”

Then he noticed your mischievous smile, and before he could say anything, you held him more firmly, and filled any part of his face with kisses that you could reach.

You laughed between Five's kisses and protests. But you only stopped after the twentieth kiss. Five was marked with your lipstick, his eyes closed for you, his face in a warning expression.

“Y/N!” He grunted, wiping his face “Are you crazy?”

But his cheeks were red and you could feel his temperature high from where you were.

You laughed louder, settling on the bed.

“.You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.” You pointed at his cheeks, waved your index finger between them, signaling.

Five frowned even more, trying to wipe the lipstick marks off his face. But slowly, a little smile was struggling to come to his face.

“You are smiling!”

“You are so childish!” he rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft.

“You love Me!” Then you threw yourself at him again, kissing his face where the marks had been cleaned.

Five grunted, but ended up just resting his hands on your waist, feeling ... relaxing.

When you stopped laughing and looked at him, Five held his gaze. Gently, his right hand went to your face, removing a lock of your hair from your eyes.

“I think you're right.”

His voice was low, like a summer breeze, and yours eyes lit up when you understood the meaning of what he was talking about. But Five didn't give you time to answer, he leaned over and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You love him too.

[my-mt-heart]

Thank you for answering my questions about Carol+Lydia and Carol's claustrophobia! As always, your insights are amazing!! ❤

Do you mind if I talk a bit more about those things?

Carol+Lydia and "unrelated" question:

I think entertainment reaches people differently according to the baggage they bring to the couch. I have a personal history with mom/mom figure related stuff. And it's probably the reason I'm passionate about mom-figure-daughter-figure relationships on TV and cinema. It touches me hugely and automatically. I honestly don't think there's a stronger bond than the one formed by two strangers that love and care so much about each other that they choose to accept their differences—differences other relationships wouldn't be able to accept—and build a relationship like mom and daughter. They choose to do it. They choose each other for a love that is unbreakable, unconditional, and stronger than anything else. And choice is my favorite thing about Carol and Lydia. They had so much hurt between each other. But they chose to trust enough to open their wounded hearts for each other. And they chose the way they would do so. It's all about choice. No accidents—besides meeting of course.

Changing completely the subject without changing the subject: that's probably my favorite thing about Caryl as well. Besides the obvious accident of them being in the same group at the end of the world. Their relationship is all about choices. There's no fate. No "they were destined to each other" storyline that appears in so many couples on TV. It's all about them choosing each other over and over, again and again and again for years. And the way they choose each other is so beautiful. There's no "love is blind". They choose to see each other. They choose to learn about each other. The hard stuff. The ugly stuff. And they still choose each other. Carol had options. Daryl had options. Even though they had "affairs". Even when they are separate. We know who their heart chooses. (I think I broke the record on the usage of the word "choose" in one paragraph. Summing up: choice)

Having said all that, I totally understand why you don't fancy the idea of Carol being in the maternal role again and a mentorship could be really cool. How do you think the mentorship could be explored—I mean more explored because I think Carol has been a mentor for Lydia for a long time—and do you fancy the idea of Lydia being in the Caryl Spinoff? *tears dropping to the ground again* That would be my dream main group: Carol, Daryl, Lydia, and Dog.

What is your favorite thing about Caryl's relationship?

Carol's claustrophobia:

I grew up in a crowded house (ten people, two bedrooms, and one bathroom *insert gif of Pedro Pascal laughing then crying here*). Nowadays, living by myself, I get extremely anxious when there are more than three people—me included—inside my house. So your theory makes total sense to me!

The emotional tunnel idea is awesome. I think Carol was still deep in it by the end of season 10. I hope it wasn't solved in the time jumps. And we see her finally reaching Mr. Crossbow's light.

I see. I wouldn't be surprised if they overlooked it either. Actually, I think I'd be surprised if they did the intelligent, exciting, and entertaining thing. (I truly waste a lot of my sanity trying to understand why an entertainment company purposely overlooks the obvious entertaining content of their product. I go back to my life and forget about it until I see something that reminds me of Caryl and Caryl+Lydia and my brain screams FUCKING WHY???? again. Even if they are sexist, ageist, all the assholery ist we know they are: Don't they like money? Don't they like success? Don't they appreciate it when their product has quality? It astonishes me in the worst way possible)

Do you have a theory on fucking why?

Of course I don’t mind :) You hit the nail right on the head. Everyone takes something different from what they see on screen and it can be deeply personal. That’s why I’ll never understand the combative nature of this fandom. Different doesn’t mean invalid. 

I’d argue “choices” is the show’s biggest and most important motif, so it makes sense to bring it up so many times haha What I love about Lydia’s and Carol’s relationship is that they opted for what may have been the harder choice for them which is trusting each other like you said and also being vulnerable with each other. To answer your question about how a mentorship between them could've been furthered, I would've like to see Lydia join Carol at the CW and maybe work with her at the bakery, learning to survive in a way Alpha always made it impossible for her to imagine. If it had been announced that she was joining the spinoff, I wouldn't have complained. Like I said, she's basically a combination of my two favorite characters, so it's impossible for me to not love her. That being said, adding any familiar character changes the dynamic of the show and I think the main draw was getting more out of Caryl's relationship with each other, just the two of them.

I'm glad you brought up how Daryl and Carol choose each other over and over again because it really does feel like a cycle. They know and we know that's never going to change. It would just be a huge relief if by the end of 11C, they could simply reap the benefits of their choice as opposed to having to start the cycle over again. There are so many things I love about their relationship, but if I have to name a favorite, I'd say I love the hope they represent for people who struggle with their self-worth.

Wow, ten people. I couldn't even stand the idea of living in a dorm with one person (I'm also mildly claustrophobic). Even if they don't further explore that further with Caryl, I think the emotional subtext still can be.

A theory on why we haven't been seeing more Caryl or Carol + Lydia? Well, do a comparative analysis of the past five seasons. What does S11 feel closer to? S7 and S8 driven by the male ego? Or S9 and S10 that aimed to deepen the relationships between the characters, particularly Caryl? I think the answer lies somewhere in there.

[crystalsenergy]

positions to touch the Shadow: the journey to your Self - # 1 (contacting our fragilities, fears, pain and so on)

pics not mine

Shadow: what is it? - The Shadow is an archetype by Carl Jung about what would be potential traumas / problems / characteristics of ourselves that we decided to hide from others and/or us. these Shadows, although they seem useless to people - because they are completely important for true self-knowledge. people hide this in an attempt to live without them, thinking they will succeed.

advice: it's important that you respect your pace, so as not to suffer the consequences of such abrupt contact with your "internal enemies". i have some experience with people who were completely unaware of their problems that, for me, were clearly appearing in their behavior in an unnoticed and irrational way, and when these people touched their Shadows, they went through moments of shock and a slight crisis for ask themselves about different points in their life. it's like opening the chest of that room hidden from your mind and finding significant points that influence your personality and, consequently, ending up also in contact with the memories of what may have originated all of this in the life experience of these people. it's delicate, so we need to respect our own time. on the other hand, i have also dealt with people who, when in contact with their Shadows, didn't feel so much sudden suffering and confusion, but an even greater hunger for knowing themselves. if you already know yourself and know that you don’t have to go so calmly, go for it. otherwise: respect your time, but don't miss the opportunity, don't waste time. the sooner we start looking for the completeness of our personality, the better it gets.

▪ PLANETS ▪

- Saturn: Saturn is present in our daily lives, in the sense that it appears within us (since the positions and aspects with Saturn influence our personality) in different situations, showing us where we lack maturity, where we need to evolve. Saturn is that internal voice (which can be increased or decreased depending on our life experiences) that tells us where we aren't good, that makes us be more rigid with ourselves. the positions of Saturn refer to the most practical thing and that turn out to be much more conscious than the other planets and asteroids. however, even so, i have seen cases of people who evidently have low self-esteem, which is explained by a position and an aspect with Saturn (Sun square Saturn + Saturn in Aries) but who admit none of this to themselves, however, a person who is outside and observes them, notes several irrational and defensive behaviors when they listen to phrases, for example, that touch their internal wounds, activating the feeling of 'not being good enough at anything'. this prevents us from evolving in the sense that the less we give light to it, the less we know each other and the more we make decisions and attitudes based on irrationality and lack of awareness of our fears and weakness.

- Pluto: our unconscious pains, the problems that we are not able to touch so easily, but that deeply affect our personality. once we touch on our Pluto issues that we try so hard to hide, we may be able to find a healthier way of dealing with almost unconscious patterns. here we have the most rotten, bad and negative feelings and sensations, the experiences that we want to forget, but that influence our personality so much. Plutonian matters (sign and house, but especially the house) speak a lot about how we project ourselves around the world. if we have the ability to analyze ourselves in a more psychological and internal way, trying to establish contact with our personal unconscious, we can transform such problems and negative feelings that we carry within us. but the first step involves letting go of the habit of hiding these problems even from yourself. Pluto wants you to let your power emerge to be reborn in the face of pain and hard phases. we all have a subject for which we will undergo transformations - be it in the way we accept that subject in our life, how we see that area in life and the way we treat others or how we treat ourselves. it's necessary to know how to overcome all the fear you have of such a subject present in the house in its positioning (example: Pluto in 7th house - excessive fear of being betrayed or left out of a relationship, going through troubled and unbalanced relationships. you need to learn through all these bad experiences).

▪ OBSERVATIONS ▪

- if you have intercepted houses, signs and planets: this means an empty area in your life, something that was not given to you or that you didn't know how to develop.

- aspects between shadow planets, asteroids cited, either among themselves (example: Saturn square Chiron, Lilith conj Pluto), or with personal planets (example: Nessus conj Venus) must also be taken into account when studying your Shadow side.

▪ ADVICE ▪

- make a mini summary of everything you have from each shadow placement and organize it all in a list, studying a point one by one.

examples:

"saturn in my natal chart 🌌✨

- saturn in aries [low self-esteem, power issues] - saturn in 8th house [rejection of my sexuality] - saturn square sun [another possibility of low self-esteem, feeling thati should not have fun, relax, have an internal father who in the end is me. me = my internal strict father.] - saturn opposite neptune [difficulty with my psychological, with living my restrictive issues and obstacles in my life in a more creative way, embracing myself. difficulty with being complacent with myself] - saturn square chiron [a feeling that I deserve to go through what I am going through, a desire to further hide my weaknesses and show myself to the world in a more controlled and inhibited way with regard to my internal problems and pains"

"black moon lilith (true lilith, the most known) in my natal chart 🐍✨

- lilith in libra [obsession or denial of being in relationships, extreme experiences in relationships, power to transmute the way i see and deal with world and others] - lilith in 3rd house [feeling unable to know things and feeling smart, running away from conversations and socializing, having an immense power to persuade people through words, having to deal with the feeling of not being heard] - lilith square north node [feeling of having to go against my purpose in life, the possibility of self-sabotage in order to fail to fulfill what i was given as a task for this life, i may have difficulty embracing my most intense and dense sides of my personality . and at the same time i can have an immense power and energy to evolve using this intense energy in a positive way]"

▪ FICTIONAL POINT ▪

- Black Moon Lilith (h13 'True Lilith'): deep power to transmute the energies of pain of Dark Lilith and humiliation of asteroid Lilith. Black Moon Lilith represents the obsession, the escape, what we really do with all our unconscious energy and potentials. where you can experience the ambivalence of extreme desire and extreme denial / rejection. where you can pass through a deep transformation / meatamorphose.

▪ ASTEROIDS ▪

- Lilith (1181): where you are confrontational, impulsive, where you seek exile and rebellion because of feeling suppressed, humiliated or incapable. where there is refusal, emotional and psychic frustrations. where you feel untrustworthy, shameful. how is the core of your wound and how it was experienced by yourself. the projections in collective expectations and where you refuse to agree to them. where you experience pain, passion, redemption. the core of these issues.

- Dark Lilith (h58 'Waldemath Black Moon'): the most hurt and intense side of Lilith. psyche instincts. it's when you feel pain because of the suppression that you experienced and where you have an extremely pain to deal, what can lead you to seek revenge or simply act in defensive / aggressive ways. represents your reaction to your original pains (1181 Lilith). it is an intense energy and if it isn'tr used correctly, it can lead you to self-destruction or it can even lead you to insert this energy from your frustrations and negations into your human experiences. if we get lost in the middle of our pain, we can become selfish and project our negative experiences and emotions on the community or on other people.

- Chiron: where there is more pain within you, the situations in which you are most vulnerable and that you seem to be unable to cope with at all. represents cycles of pain in your life. it can also represent things that you feel you were "born" to have to deal with. it also represents subjects in which you sin when it comes to healing but you are / can be extremely good at healing others.

- Nessus: where you can experience some type of abuse, toxicity or abusive experience. acts of violence and situations of this kind.

- Proserpina (26): where you can have to work to leave the fantasy aside, where you may not have maturity. it represents a cycle of killing and grieving the child's fragile ego, and then becoming more mature. is the loss of innocence, revival and reconstruction.

- Achilles (588): your deep weakness, deep wounding, ‘achilles heel’.

- Echo (60): where you don't believe in yourself, where you may lack self-esteem and may be little original, where you may have to deal with narcissistic people. where you are prone to being manipulated and losing your individuality to others.

- Atropos (273): where you can experience endings or transformations, loss or death that can impact you deeply.

- Narcissus (37117): where you can be indifferent, selfish, what needs to be improved; or where you may have to experience situations of manipulation, being with people in general or with someone really narcissistic, or it can mean in which subject you will have to deal with extreme disinterest, lack of empathy, or abuse on the part of people, which can cause you deep pain.

- Karma (3811): karmic issues, which seems like you have to deal with this life in a repetitive and tiring way. which can bring you a feeling of helplessness, circumstances of pain and difficulties.

- Dionysus (3671): where you can have a double nature. where you can have addictions, and a tendency to get easily intoxicated.

- Grieve (4451): one more tip about possibilities for grief, sorrow.

[allthingskakashi]

•| Right Now Is All We Have|•

[ Kakashi x Reader]

You're awakened by the feeling of something plopping down on the mattress, filling up the empty space beside you.

You open your eyes and squint in the dark, as an arm drapes over your stomach.

"Kakashi..." you groan.. "Sorry i fell asleep waiting"

Kakashi lays silent and motionless beside you, face buried down into the bed. The weight of his arm on your stomach makes you unable to move. You plop yourself up against the pillow and his arm falls to your thighs. You check the time on clock on the bedstand, it reads 2:06 a.m.

You look at the man beside you, looking so weary as if he's resting his body after ages, which he probably is. The black vest he's wearing reveals the many wounds and bruises on his arms.

It pained you to see Kakashi like this, but it was something you had to get used to.

You place one hand on his head and start softly stroking his silvery hair, rubbing his back gently with your other hand.

"Tough mission?" you ask, your voice tender.

Kakashi stays quiet, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You know it means yes.

He was gone for one whole week, sent to pursue an enemy. The mission was supposed to be over in three days but it stretched on. You were worried sick but the Hokage had assured you that everything was fine. But it still hadn't pacified the restlessness in you. Who knows what they had to do? Maybe Kakashi had to kill someone, maybe his team lost a member... You didn't wanna ask yet.

You continue rubbing his back, trying to soothe him as much as you can. His muscles seem to relax under your touch.

"Did you eat yet? I put your food in the oven so it stays warm, I wasn't sure when you'd be back"

Kakashi still doesn't say anything. By the looks of it, he hasn't showered yet so he probably hasn't eaten. This is starting to worry you now. This wasn't the first time Kakashi returned from a mission so... drained. Not just physically but emotionally as well. You hated what these missions did to him. But there was nothing you could do. All the horrible possibilities about what may have happened swarms inside your head, making you nauseous.

"Kakashi... You're worrying me. Let me fix up your wounds at least" you say, basically to the dark now, your voice pleading.

Kakashi stirs, taking his time lifting up his head to look at you. You gaze at what you can make of his face in the light coming from the streets through the window.

His otherwise beautiful face looks sunken, eyes marked with dark circles under them. Dirt and sweat are smeared across the visible areas of his face, streaks of dried blood on his forehead.

Your heart sinks, making your eyes well up.

"Kakashi..."

You slide down on the bed and pull Kakashi's face to your chest, holding him tight. You plant a few kisses on the top of his head. He puts his other arm around you, gripping you with both arms.

You stay that way for a long time, in complete silence. Nothing but the sound of the clock ticking away.

"Y/n.."

Kakashi says after a while, against your chest. The tone of his voice makes you anxious.

"Why do you care so much about me? I am not worthy of it."

The sudden statement takes you by surprise. But this wasn't the first time Kakashi said something like this either. You try to suppress the quiver in your voice and speak, keeping your tone firm.

" I care about you because i love you. And i love you because you deserve every ounce of love in the world."

He's silent but you know he's listening, so you go on.

"I know you don't like to think so, but i do. You can try pushing me away as much as you want, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and hold you and keep holding you until you realise that you ARE worthy. Of happiness, of love and of everything you think you aren't worthy of."

Kakashi's head sinks further into your body.

"I don't know what happened in your mission Kakashi..", you continue "but you aren't responsible for it. Okay? You're an excellent shinobi and an even better person and i know you care deeply about your comrades and would give your life for them. So no matter what happened... It's not your fault." you speak into his ear, holding him close the whole time.

You feel worn out from trying to sound strong and not allowing yourself to simply break down. But you know you need to be strong right now, for Kakashi. You need to be his shoulder to lean on.

Kakashi is quiet again, half of his body wrapped around you. His grip is so firm, like you're made of dust and you'd slip through if he didn't hold you tight. He doesn't say anything for so long you think he's fallen asleep. You rest your chin on his head, every cell in your body overflowing with love for him. My baby, my beautiful, beautiful baby.

You're about to doze off too, the familiar feel of Kakashi beside you after so long gives you the comfort that was missing all these days and you feel at peace inside, like you can actually sleep again.

"Y/n.." Kakashi's soft voice permeates through the foggy thoughts of your drowse. You open your eyes.

" Marry me."

You're fully awake now, all your senses heightened. Did you hear that right? Or are you still in a trance? You lift your chin away from over his head and try to look at his face, wondering if he's murmuring in his sleep.

"W-What?" you ask, feeling stunned.

Kakashi looks up at you and speaks in a soft, clear tone. " Marry me, Y/n."

You are dumbstruck. No word or sound escapes your mouth. You look at him, stupefied.

Kakashi unwraps himself away from you and quickly gets up with a jump in a hurry, turning the bedside lamp on and hastily disappearing from the room.

You sit upright on the bed now, neither your body nor your mind functioning. You wait, unsure of what's happening.

Kakashi scurries back into the room in a few seconds. You notice him holding a tiny blue velvety box in hand. He hurries on to the bed, and sits facing you, one leg folded and the other hanging by the side of the bed. He takes your hands in his, his tone is urgent, nervous. He speaks so fast you're having trouble keeping up.

"Y/n, i was going to wait for later to do this, think of something special to do for you, maybe buy you some flowers, I don't know, I'm not good at this and I don't know how someone like you ever fell for someone like me but you're the biggest blessing in my life, you're all i have and I don't want to lose you. You're the only thing standing between me and the insanity that would've consumed me if it weren't for you. I was going to wait but--

Kakashi lets out a heave, out of breath from speaking so much so fast. He pulls down his mask, unveiling his face which is ridden with so many emotions. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out, recomposing himself, and squeezes your hands.

Your heart is so full, you wait for him to finish just so you can kiss him. You realise your cheeks are damp with a steadily flowing stream of tears.

Kakashi continues, speaking slowly in a clear voice now.

"I was going to wait but I don't want to wait any longer. There's no knowing whether I'll live tomorrow, all i have is now and right now, i am lucky enough to be here with you, to be loved by you.. and I want to let you know how much you mean to me, right now. I..I love you Y/n. I don't want to lose you.. I don't know how many years of life fate has in store for me, i always thought I'd die young but i made it till here and I'm glad i did because i found you, and i want to spend whatever days i have remaining, with you. Loving you, and allowing myself to be loved by you."

Kakashi takes a ring out of the box with slightly trembling hands and clasps both your hands in both of his, looking into your eyes with a piercingly earnest gaze.

"So will you ma-- Oh wait, I'm sorry" ,he shakes his head, fumbling nervously. He hurriedly gets down to the floor to kneel on one knee, making sure he's doing this right.

You chuckle at this, your vision blurry through your tears. He's smiling too, eyes shining bright. There's hope in them now and not just sorrow. He kneels on the floor, holding your hand in one hand, and the ring in the other. You're both grinning at each other like idiots now.

" So will you marry me, Y/n?"

[monsoonblooms12]

Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

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