#you submitting will save yourself from my boring opinions

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part XI

Word count: 3900+

Warnings: swear words

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part X | Part XII

Ever since Eris saved you, you two became inseparable. Literally and unromantic, unfortunately.

When you said that you wanted him, you meant like a man, a husband. You couldn't name the feeling that led you to that as you'd never encountered it in your life. Desire and lust weren't so unfamiliar to you, you knew them well and definitely felt them when he was around, but what you felt exceeded even such mundane wants. The moment he stepped out of the flames in that dark room carved into stone, it grew into a constant need and it was slowly driving you crazy.

Sometimes you thought of it as a disease because dry throat, pounding heart, shortness of breath, sweating and stuttering were common symptoms. However, no medicine could cure you. You were doomed.

While you dreamt of his warm hands touching your body in all inappropriate places, his lips breathing life into your hurting heart, his skin rubbing against yours, his voice whispering to your ear and about other parts of his body that you hadn't seen yet, Eris every morning calmly knocked on your doors and escorted you to his office. He insisted that you must not leave his side, so you ended up sitting behind him even on meetings to resentment of all present lords.

It was excruciating to just sit, watch him from distance and listen his voice that often spoke about such things that it sounded like a foreign language to you. You weren't proud of it, but you weren't educated in anything except of how to submit, keep quiet, stay still, dance and serve well to your husband. Males in Hewn City held an opinion that educating females was just a waste of time because there was no way they could understand such complicated things as economy, politics, war or ruling.

The closest you got to doing what you wanted to do with him, was when he took your hand and you went out for walk or to feed and play with his smokehounds.

Eris didn't know so much about flowers and herbs as your friends Ellen and Irene, but you were never bored with him. Sometimes he relaxed enough to talk about his childhood, at least about nice memories he had, sometimes he tried to explain you what the meeting was about. Either way you always learned something new and most importantly, you had an excuse for staring at his lips. You tried really hard to pay attention to everything he was saying, but your heart had a mind of its own.

You often found yourself imaging the taste and texture of those lips on yours and more - the feel of them sliding down the column of your neck to your chest, playing with you. The fact that you felt his long fingers in your hand made it even worse. All of sudden you felt them touching your body, weaving through your hair, filling you-

"Were did you go?" His husky deep voice snapped you from your fantasies. Amber orbs with dangerously swirling flames were piercing you and you blushed. Despite being outside his scent was wrapping around you, so thick it was suffocating.

"I'm here, listening to you," you almost moaned those words, dazed. Of course you weren't.

"Hmmm, really?" With wolfish grin he leaned so close that you were sharing a breath. "So tell me, my dear, what was I talking about?"

"You asked me where did I go," you whispered. Only an inch. There was only an inch between your lips, separating you from what you desperately wanted.

"Cleaver," he murmured, seemingly as drunken as you. "And before?"

You blinked. What did he say before?

"You said that villages near Summer have a hard time?" you tried your luck.

His grin grew wider. "That was maybe a half hour ago." His fingers ran along your jaw to your lips, gently parting them. "What should I do with you?"

Kiss me! If only you were brave enough to say it aloud.

His gaze was glued to your mouth now. For a moment you thought you heard his heartbeat, but it must have been just your imagination because there was no way his heart beated in unison with yours. Suddenly he lunged forward, his mouth crashing into yours with such strength that you had to wrap arms around his broad shoulders to prevent a fall. His palms clasped back of your head and your hip, tugging you impossibly close. His tongue slipped into your mouth without warning, but you didn't mind it slightest.

You were responding to his every desperate touch and stroke of tongue with your own. This was it. This was what you dreamt about for days now. You moaned into his mouth, drawing a growl from the depths of his chest.

He was greedy. His hot lips moved down the column of your neck feverishly while his fingers pulled the dress from your shoulder. None of you minded that you were in the garden where anyone could see you. In that moment only the two of you existed in this world.

He sucked and nipped the thin skin of your throat and you welcomed it. You wanted him to leave a mark on you. You clung to him, enjoying what he was doing, rewarding his ministration with loud moans. Your fingers were clawing on his back, trying to get to his skin. You wanted him, needed him.

However when he got to your shoulder he stilled, heaving heavily. His fingers were digging into your flesh almost painfully while his body trembled.

"You drive me crazy. You and your delicious scent," he groaned with lips on your skin. "Please, have mercy with me. I can't hold back for any longer." He sounded like on verge of tears.

You entwined fingers into his soft strands. "So don't hold back," you whispered nuzzling to the crook of his neck.

He snorted and fixed your dress. "You'll be death of me." With that he pushed away, hiding his face from you. He took your hand and pulling you behind him, he was leading you back to the castle. "There's a meeting with merchant leaders in five minutes."

Since this small encounter in the gardens, he closed up, watching you every now and then with sadness and something that resembled great longing. He was still kind to you and attentive, still tried to explain you things they discussed at the meetings, it just felt different. Thinking that you did something wrong, possibly even hurt him unknowingly, you tried your best to behave, to control your fantasies and eventually cooled down a bit.

Your evening routine had changed, too, as if Eris was scared to be with you alone after night fell. Instead of staying in the office until it was time to sleep, before the dinner Eris took all documents he needed to your chambers. After eating together he continued his work on that small dining table, while Ellen and Irene kept you company.

They seemed to be ashamed to run their mouths in presence of the High Lord, so you usually retired to your bedroom leaving doors ajar. That was the only condition Eris insisted on.

"And after that? What happened?" Ellen leaned closer, urging you to continue. It took you some time to gather courage to tell them about the kiss, but here you were, sharing your worries.

You shrugged. "Nothing. Eris had a meeting, so we headed back."

"And at night?" Irene whispered. They both knew that your marriage wasn't consummated yet, but just like you, they still hoped. "Did he come to, you know.. continue where you have stopped?"

You shook your head. They both frowned.

"Is that male impotent or what?" Ellen said too loudly and clasped hands over her mouth in shock. She didn't mean to shout it. You all turned to the doors, but you heard only constant scrapping of pen on paper from the other room.

"Or maybe he isn't interested in females," Irene suggested.

"No way," Ellen shook head. "We both grew at this Court, so you certainly heard it, too. All brothers had a lot of lovers in the past, all females. Even our High Lord had a few affairs. Less than his brothers, but still."

"Yup, I think I heard it, too," Irene sighed and blushed.

"Do you think that I messed up?" you bit on your lower lip. "That I somehow insulted him?"

"No, definitely not," they both said in unison.

"Males like when females show interest," Irene said, rubbing your shoulder.

"It usually turns male on, not discourage him. Especially, if it's married couple," Ellen added.

You sighed, feeling even worse. There was something really wrong with you two.

"And what about you and Killian?" you turned to Irene, trying to change topic.

"Well.." she fidgeted with her fingers. "He asked me out."

With Ellen you immediately came alive, tension growing. "And?"

"And I said yes," Irene smiled shyly. "He'll take me to the city next week."

All three of you squealed happily, holding hands. It was just about the time. Irene was head over heels for him for years and ever since she became your maid you saw Killian flirting with her every time he came for chitchat.

The doors flew open and on threshold stood Eris with dagger in hand. He scanned the room, then his fiery gaze fell down to you and your friends sitting on ottomans, baffled, with smiles frozen on your faces.

"I heard you screaming. Everything alright?"

"Yes," you spoke softly, "absolutely fine. We just.. We are sorry that we disturbed you. We'll be careful from now on."

He nodded. Eyes lingering on you, he just stood there. You gave him a puzzled look. He shook head and leaving doors again ajar, he returned to his work.

All three of you blew a breath.

Irene turned to you with sad smile. "He seems like someone who cares for you dearly. You should have seen him when you went missing. He turned this place upside down, looking for you. He was furious when he couldn't find anything with your scent."

"He was so desperate," Ellen agreed. "And the look he just gave you.. It was full of longing for sure. He wants you."

"Then why?" You flapped down on your back, looking out the window at stars that shone sadly tonight. They had no answer for you, too.

The most exciting part of Eris's work was when he had to visit some village or small town. Nature of Autumn Court was breathtakingly beautiful and fascinated you with all those radiant colours. Whether it was just a wild forest or fields you wanted to see it all.

Even Fae who lived there. Most of them was hostile and alert when High Lord came to them, willing to help them personally solve their problem. However, Eris was able to cope with it and handled it brilliantly.

It was interesting to watch him interact with his subjects. He was strong, sharp and terrifying, yet he didn't shy to show kindness and understanding. He seemed to be especially skilled with children. Wherever you went, soon enough a group of kids followed him all around and he didn't mind at all. He only smirked and even played with them when he thought that no one was watching. He was kind of cute in such moments. It was easy to imagine him with his own children, running through hallways, ballrooms and gardens, scaring staff and then laughing at it. Your heart clenched with pain every time such thoughts flashed through your mind.

Eris made sure that on the way you could see every river, lake or rock. Winnowing would be much faster, yet he always opted for horses and didn't hesitate to do detours just to show you nice places. Since you couldn't ride, you always ended up on his horse, pressed into his chest and with his arms around your waist, holding you in place. That made these trips even more special for you. The joy of sharing beauty of his Court was visible not only on his face but mainly in his eyes. He was a different male as soon as he left castle grounds, more happy, unfettered and wild. He was like the nature around him and you liked it a lot.

If only it was the main content of his duties.

Sadly, most of the ruling was made from his office. You spent there so many hours that you lost count. At first Eris let you do whatever you wanted which meant that you sat near the window switching between view of garden and your diligently writing, reading and frowning husband.

Years of training this made you last quite long, longer than any other person would last, but since coming to this Court you got a taste of freedom. Simply said, you became bored after a while. You understood the importance of his work and didn't mean to bother him in any way. However, it was physically impossible to suppress yawning or stop constant wiggling when your body screamed for change of position.

You thought that Eris hadn't noticed it, but after few days he rearranged the office and added smaller desk and sofa that he clearly didn't need. It was for you.

One day, pretending he just needed to stretch out, he walked to the shelves of books, randomly picked out one and handed it to you.

"Wouldn't you like to read something?"

It was the book about the medical herbs that you started to read before you were kidnapped and hadn't finished it yet. You smiled at him gratefully. You thought that he would mind or that page turning sounds would bother him, so you didn't dare to bring it with you. But as it turned out, he didn't mind it at slightest and after that, a whole section of books about plants magically found its way into his bookcase.

You were eager for knowledge and devoured the books in just a few weeks. It didn't went unnoticed.

Next time Eris tried to explain you problems discussed at the meeting, he took out a book, opened it at certain page dedicated to the similar issue and let you read that, too. You really appreciated this gesture. Whether he knew about your hunger for knowledge or not, he was supporting your eagerness anyway. He went so far as preparing you books of certain topic and when you were done with them, he discussed it with you and explained parts that you didn't understand. Killian obviously liked the idea and often joined you or took Eris's place when he was too busy.

They didn't mind discussing even the Court's issues with you and Eris himself asked you questions and intently listened to your opinions and solutions. You were surprised to find out that with minor changes he presented some of them at meetings. It brought you two closer on a new, deeper level, and you started working together. Eris entrusted you with some documents and reports that he believed you could solve on your own, while you kept studying. If someone before told you that just in marriage you could get the keys to complete freedom, you wouldn't believe them. With Eris anything was possible though.

One day, Killian entered the office with unusually serious expression.

"Eris, the news about certain matter arrived," his eyes drifted to you.

Erin frowned and leaned closer. He apparently knew what Killian talked about. "And?"

Killian put his hands on the table, leaned towards him and lowered his voice. "They couldn't find the body. They searched the entire place and nothing. He had to survive it and get out. Or someone helped him."

Eris inhaled sharply through his nose and your gazes met. His amber eyes hardened, burning like fire.

They didn't need to say who survived. You already knew, but still you needed them to confirm it. You subdued the tremor. "Who-.. who are you talking about?"

They exchanged the look. Jaws hardening they pulled lips into thin lines, avoiding your gaze. If you already didn't know they were siblings, now there would be no doubts about it. They were so alike.

"You are talking about males who kidnapped me, right?"

"Y/N.." Eris sighed, pinching bridge of his nose.

"Yes," Killian gave you a pitiful look while Eris eyes shot up to him, the fire in them burning holes into his head.

"It's better when she is scared but careful than when she runs into hands of death because she didn't know about the dangers that lurk around any corner," he shrugged.

Eris dragged hand down his face. "Fine," he grunted, "go ahead, if you want to scare her so badly."

"Asshole," Killian narrowed eyes on his brother. Then he turned to you. "The thing is... Lord Nail, the one who kidnapped you, escaped and we can't find him. And.. our brother, Volkan.. Eris thought he is dead, but.."

"You couldn't find the body to confirm it," you repeated what you heard earlier.

"Yeah.."

You hesitated. There was one question that bothered you ever since you woke up on that cold ground. "Why?" you stuttered barely audibly.

They both raised brows at you.

"Why did they do that?"

"We aren't sure," Eris watched you with sad eyes. "When I became High Lord, I announced at meeting that I plan to marry you. Some Lords didn't like the idea, but Nail was strongly against it. His family believed that his cousin will be my wife. He revolted and I banished him from this Court. He also used to support Volkan as a heir and future High Lord.."

"So we think that either it was a payback for his cousin or he did it to lure Eris out, so Volkan can kill him and become what he always wanted to be."

A huge lump rose in your throat and for the rest of the day you couldn't focus on anything. Thoughts swirled in your head and more questions popped up. Why did Eris choose you? Why he went to so much trouble when he wasn't even interested in you in that way? What he expected from you? A friendship? Companion? Where you just some kind of gag to shut up Lords, so he could sweep the question of marriage off the table? Or was it a payback? To whom?

The whole night you spent tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The next day you were miles away, mindlessly following Eris around the castle. That day you weren't able to focus even on reading. Your husband tried to talk with you as he usually did, but you was hardly able to give him one-word answers. In the end he gave up and didn't press you further. You didn't notice the tension in the air nor that his mood gradually worsened with every hour you spent trapped in your thoughts.

Eris immediately knew something was going on when he saw you and those dark circles under your eyes in the morning. He watched your silent form sitting in his office like a ghost and grew nervous. He wanted to get into your pretty head to see what bothered you, shake with you until you spit it all out. But he couldn't and that annoyed him the most.

As if it wasn't enough, Lords at the afternoon meeting decided to try out his patience. Some village on outskirts of Autumn Court near borders with Summer couldn't pay the taxes because they had a bad year. A flood of locusts had eaten up the crops and they actually needed an aid to survive. But these mother-fuckers wanted to punish them as his father would do. The old bastard never cared for the reason people couldn't pay. He simply killed them or turned them into slaves.

Eris was in a foul mood, muscle ticking in his jaw, and wanted to kill someone, preferably these idiots. All of them. He glared at the papers in front of him while they quarreled which punishment would be more effective. Until the papers burst into flames. The room went silent, all eyes at him. His verdict was clear: no punishment, send an aid. With that he dismissed them.

The meeting ended without you even noticing anything of that. You were imprisoned in your own head, drowning in uncertainty and pain, and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed answers.

While you ran after Eris who was making his way down the hallways with long strides, you decided. You would ask him. Now or never. You had nothing to lose and if Eris answered.. Well, it depended on his answers.

Eris held the door for you and then closed them so harshly that the walls shook. He strode to his desk and slammed his fist on it.

His brother, the male who hurt his wife, was alive and nobody could find a single trace of him. His wife was.. What was she? Scared? Terrified? Traumatized? And he couldn't help her because she wouldn't talk with him, wouldn't let him. His subjects needed help and he had to fight Lords to get the help they needed. Everything around him was collapsing and he couldn't stop it. He could only stand and watch.

"Eris?"

"Yes?" Frowning he looked up from his desk.

"Why did you choose me as your wife?"

His jaw tightened and he looked away. He wasn't in mood for this kind of conversation. He wasn't ready for it. Not today, not anytime soon. "Because I wanted you."

"But why?"

"I already told you."

"So why haven't you consummated the marriage yet?"

"I won't discuss that with you. Not now, not.. never."

"Don't you think that I deserve to know?"

He was quiet, hands clenched into fists on the desk. Whenever you asked him something, he gladly answered you, so why not now? Silver lined your eyes as you watched his hard, angry expression and felt your heart breaking into million pieces. Normally, you wouldn't insist and let it go. Normally, you wouldn't even dare to ask such things.

But today wasn't that day.

"Please, Eris. I need to know it.. If you ever cared about me, sincerely cared, answ-"

"I haven't fucked you yet because I. Don't. Want. To," he snapped, his fiery eyes piercing you. "Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

He never shouted at you, never spoke with you like this. He didn't even raise his voice at you until now. You winced and took a step back. And then another. Your lower lip quivered and before you could stop it, you burst into tears. You couldn't stay there. You needed air, fresh air and distance. When Eris saw your reaction his face contorted in pain. He started to reach out for you, but you pivoted and ran out of the room.

"Y/N!"

His broken voice followed you to the hallway. You didn't slow down and kept running up and up.

You had no idea where you were heading to until you dashed through the door and a cold gust of wind stung your wet face. The sky began to turn red, evening was approaching.

You walked over to the battlement and looked down. You were on the rooftop of the tallest tower. The guard on the courtyard below wasn't bigger than an ant. Good. No one would see you up here and no one would come looking for you.

You were cold and hurting so much that even breathing was too painful. You slid down to the ground, curled into a ball and cried. You were there for less than ten minutes when affected laughter cut through the air.

"You make things so much easier for me."

[spockandawe]

Hello! While I know this point must have already been talked about a lot in the fandom but since I have only recently read tgcf, I don't know much. I came across threads on where people talked about Hua Cheng being obsessive and toxic, with his existence being centered around Xie Lian and hence not having a grounding personality and life of his own + the scene of Ten Thousand Gods Cave.

Since I have been reading your metas, I was curious about your thoughts on this? Thank you!

Sure thing! Apologies for the slow response, this whole thing with my back has been really disrupting everything I want to accomplish. Now, I think that Hua Cheng is obsessive in a way that could easily become toxic, but calling him obsessive+toxic relies on only a shallow reading of the character and limiting yourself to the point where he is at the very start of the story, ignoring all the character/relationship development that happens over the course of a very long book.

Now, when it comes to the flashback books? Hua Cheng can have a little obsession, as a treat. I’m not going to say that the way he feels back then is any kind of basis for a healthy adult relationship, but Hua Cheng is approximately ages 10-17 over the course of book 2, and isn’t much “older” after his death as the ghost fire and as Wuming in book 4. He’s not relating to Xie Lian in a way that’s going to lead to a relationship of equals at that point, but he’s also a kid who’s worshiping a god who saved his life at a young age, twice, and who comforted and reassured him when their kingdom’s guoshi told him that he was doomed to bring misfortune to everyone in his life. All of their interactions in book 2 are extremely good reasons for why Hua Cheng would idolize him and obsess over him in that way, and I’m not going to fault him for any of it.

Now, I would say that the end of book 4 illustrates how badly that kind of idolization can go better than anything set in the present day, but it’s telling that this is also the point where Xie Lian abruptly realizes how much he doesn’t want to be Like This, and hauls his life around. Even eight hundred years later, he’s more ashamed to speak of this part of his life than anything else. He’s way more willing to laugh at his own pain and suffering than he is to even mention a time where he was cold and controlling with someone who offered themself to him.

SO. In the present, Xie Lian has a very good reason to know that he does not want to take advantage of someone else’s offered devotion. It’s an old memory, but when we see how much he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s clear that it made an impression. If the direction of this book was only up to Hua Cheng? He’s already made it abundantly clear that he’s willing to sacrifice his everything, including his sense of self, if Xie Lian asks, but Xie Lian has confirmed very strongly to himself that this is not what Xie Lian wants.

And Xie Lian is walking a very fine emotional line in a lot of ways that he himself isn’t even fully aware of, but the early development in the book has this really interesting balance in the dynamic between him and Hua Cheng. He’s happy to rely on Hua Cheng for advice and help, but he’s also completely willing to worry for him (when he jumps into the sinner’s pit) and to gently scold him (when he jumps into the sinner’s pit). Hua Cheng worries about what will happen if Xie Lian finds out who he really is, but Xie Lian pretty much confirms it to himself, and when Hua Cheng is finally anxious enough to ask about it, Xie Lian’s main reaction is ‘isn’t the important thing that I like you as a person?’

If Hua Cheng was left to his own devices, he’d obsess over Xie Lian in a way that let himself suborn his entire identity to whatever Xie Lian wants from him, but Xie Lian has been so horribly lonely for so long, and even before a relationship enters the picture, what Xie Lian wants is a friend. And Xie Lian, on his own, is determined not to let himself take advantage of a person the way he took advantage of Wuming. And no matter how much Hua Cheng wants to submit himself to Xie Lian, what’s more important to him is what Xie Lian wants. The meta that’s been doing good circulation that I bet you saw was about how Hua Cheng developed his own independent sense of self over the last eight hundred years, no matter what he’d originally wanted, but as he gets to know Xie Lian in the present, Xie Lian makes it clear that Xie Lian likes who he became. 

Hua Cheng does still definitely take the position that ‘whatever Xie Lian wants is more important than what I want’, and that could go badly in so many ways, but from the very beginning, Xie Lian is firmly, firmly expressing, ‘I like who you are and I want to be friends.’ Xie Lian doesn’t scold Hua Cheng for being a dick to Fu Yao and Nan Feng, or for breaking heavenly artifacts, even one that used to be one of his own treasured possessions. He scolds Hua Cheng because ‘you jumped down into that pit and I was afraid you would be hurt.’ He doesn’t try to sand off Hua Cheng’s sharp edges or change him, and isn’t willing to sit back and relax as Hua Cheng puts himself in harm’s way. He doesn’t give Hua Cheng room to make himself a less-than, and (probably unintentionally) positively reinforces Hua Cheng when he lets bits of his own true personality show through. One of the reasons I love this book so much is because that relationship could have so easily turned toxic and controlling, but the main pair like each other so much that they manage to pull through into a healthy, balanced relationship.

It’s not a perfect relationship, because perfect relationships are boring and unrealistic, and there’s no tension in a story if two characters are perfectly in step. But by the end of the story, this is a more perfect relationship than I’d ever expected to be invested in, because they’re so in sync, haha. 

I think the moments that show the ways it’s not obsessive in a toxic way best come through in the times when Hua Cheng has some sort of grudge against a person that Xie Lian genuinely cares for. It starts with the shitty teens in the Banyue arc, but even near the story end, Mei Nianqing is Xie Lian’s old beloved teacher, and is also the person who told Hua Cheng ‘wow! you’re destined to fuck over everyone who ever gets close to you��� when Hua Cheng was just a little kid. It’s clear that Xie Lian likes and respects him a lot, and Hua Cheng feels not at all compelled to play nice. He’s happy to continue being nasty as hell to Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who are Xie Lian’s next two closest friends. He’s not even willing to be nice to E’Ming even as 1) Xie Lian pampers it, and 2) E’Ming is literally a part of himself. 

And he doesn’t hide this at all. He’s willing to act in ways not at all aligned with Xie Lian’s own opinions, especially as time goes on and Xie Lian doesn’t correct him. He’s willing to act against Xie Lian’s wishes in order to protect him (taking back his spiritual energy in the black water arc, overexerting himself to the point of dissipation at the climax), and it becomes more clear as the story progresses that he’s a person who wants only the best for Xie Lian, but who exists independently from Xie Lian, and isn’t willing to completely defer to Xie Lian’s desires or to override Xie Lian’s desires for what he thinks is best. To me, this relationship is primarily defined by how much the two of them like each other, and especially early on, I could see it easily tipping in an unhealthy direction, but it feels like most of the later relationship development specifically exists to undermine that particular flavor of toxic dynamic, and what we end up with is a very sweet, very balanced relationship. Hua Cheng’s willingness to submit himself to what Xie Lian wants is overridden by Xie Lian’s desire that Hua Cheng be himself, because that’s the person who Xie Lian loves.

[sibsteria]

miss stark [bucky barnes]

[this is extremely cringe]

There's a stigma around the name 'Stark', some positive, some negative. I try to keep out of the spotlight but it's becoming impossible as my powers were exposed during the battle of New York back in 2012, it's like people are learning new things about me everyday, and news articles aren't too reserved with their opinions and comments. My brother says to make light of it and embrace my differences, and in his words- 'stick it to those nosy, cunty little pricks' but it's incredibly hard. Wanda, Vision and Steve are my best friends and are the only ones I have a true connection with, Tony aside. Most of my time is spent in my room with Wanda or in the gym, training, I don't like most social situations. I get along with the team, don't get me wrong, but if I had a choice of preferred company it would be Vision, Wanda or Steve. My loyalty is what makes me a good Avenger, except from my powers, Tony knows I would give my life to save anyone on the team and he hates it. I know Tony would give his life for me and it worries me when we are on missions. I'm terrified of losing the only family I have left. My best friends outside of the team are Pepper, Happy and Phil, they are the closest thing I have to family apart from Tony. I've known Phil the longest, then Happy, then Pepper, they take care of me well.

James Buchanan Barnes is joining the team today, as expected, Steve is the one who will be showing him around. I have a strong feeling to camp inside my room but I know Steve wants me to meet Bucky, I can never say no to his puppy-dog-eyes. I think I've showered three times this morning from nervousness.

*

''-this is Y/n, one of my best friends, oh you'll love her Buck.'' Steve approaches me with his companion. ''Introduce yourself Y/n/n!''

''Hi.'' I gave meekly, waving. Steve nudges Bucky and he snaps out of a strong gaze, dunno what that was about.

Bucky coughs ''Um, hello.'' he blushes.

Steve seems impressed with his actions and ushers Bucky to the next room. When they are gone I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I think back to Bucky and his attributes. He was blessed with attractiveness, I'd seen photos but oh my, and from what Steve had said, he seems to have a lovely personality when you get to know him and he accepts your friendship. After the Wakandans fixed his memory, he and Steve were more connected than ever, and he seemed in a rush to introduce us both. Must want his two best friends to know each other.

*

''Hey.'' I hear from my left. I look over to see C3PO himself- Bucky.

''Hey, you doing alright on your first day?'' I ask, feeling like I'm prying, but I have a genuine concern and interest in his health. I set down the book I was reading.

''Yeah, pretty boring to be honest, Steve talks a LOT.''

''Oh, we know, that's why half of us are asleep with our head on the desks at briefings.'' He laughs.

''You're the first person to ask if I'm okay, you know.'' He smiles at me.

''Well I do care, no matter if Tony says I'm a heartless bitch.'' I jokes, Tony called me that once because I stole Thor's last poptart packet.

''I thought I would feel awkward around everyone and not make friends at all, but I feel genuinely comfortable around you?''

''I feel comfortable around you, surprisingly.''

''What are you reading?'' He asks, glancing at the book I had set on the table.

''Harry Potter and The Prisoner Of Azkaban.'' I smile at my favourite book.

''Not read that one, any good?''

''THE BEST!'' I shout. ''I'll lend you my Harry Potter series, you NEED to read them.'' I usher out excitedly.

''I will, come by my room and drop them off later, my room is labelled 'BARNES' on floor 88.'' He tells me.

''Wow, my rooms on 88 too, labelled 'MISS STARK'.'' I say in shock.

''Wait-Stark?'' He questions.

''Oh, Tony's my brother, you didn't know?''

''Now I do.'' He laughs.

''Jesus, with all the talking Steve does I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned it.'' Bucky lets out another laugh.

''I mean he might of but it's hard to listen when you feel like you're submitting to a comatose state.'' I burst out laughing at his comment and my eyes scrunch up in my joy.

''You're making him sound like the poppy field in the Wizard Of Oz-'' I cut myself off with another laugh.

''I watched that will Steve the other day.'' He laughs.

''Nice.'' I calm my laughter ''I laugh too much.'' I state.

''I like your laugh, never ever stop laughing.'' He says.

*

Wanda and I are busy cooking in the kitchen, I can hear Thor's roaring laughter from the living room.

''I'll be right back, I need to grab something from the store.'' Wanda explains.

''Okay. Safe journey.'' I laugh at her.

''Always is душо.'' She leaves the kitchen.

''Heard your laugh, it got me enchanted.'' I hear from next to me.

Surprise, surprise, it's one of the cybermen- it's Bucky.

''Enchanted to commit suicide?'' I joke.

''Nope.'' He hops up onto the counter.

''Careful R2D2, don't break the counter.'' I say masterfully chopping veggies, managing to flip the knife multiple times.

*

Dinner is awkward. Bucky is staring at me, Tony is staring at Bucky and I'm looking at Steve urging him to help me, which obviously does not convey itself across.

''Okay, dinners over, to bed all.'' I usher everyone out of the kitchen and start collecting plates, a few minutes into washing up I feel a presence behind me. I turn around to see Bucky leaning on the island, staring at me intently.

''Okay, what's with the staring Tin man?'' This made him stifle a chuckle.

''From what I've gathered, you're not like your brother.'' He approaches me.

''Yeah no shit, Iron Giant.'' I feel a laugh in my throat but stop it rising, he smirks.

''You're sweet, kind, not including now-'' I cut him off.

''Oi-''

''Not to mention you are hotter than my arm on a sunny day.'' I hitch my breath.

''Guessing that's pretty hot hm?'' I give out in a breath.

''Burns the skin...'' He puts his hands on my waist. I could feel my heart beat increasing by the second. He leans down until I can feel his breath on my neck until I hear footsteps echoing and I push him away.

''Get to bed scoundrel, we've got business tomorrow.'' I hear Tony tell me.

''I'm 28!'' I shout after him.

''I'm 48! I'm superior!'' He sasses.

''Yeah well Steve is 100! He doesn't tell me to go to bed!'' I sass back.

''Want me to make HIM tell you!''

''I'm good!''

*

I drop Bucky's books I promised him infront of his door and knock. He opens it a few moments later.

''Thanks, see you tomorrow.'' He says with joy.

''See ya.''

I head to my own room

'MISS STARK'

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

The Second Brother’s hand barely touched you, his clawed gloves hovered mere inches away from your face, but you could feel the energy escaping your entire body and then enter his fingers in the form of white, translucent tendrils. The sensation was similar to drowning—sinking, rather—with a weight tied to your ankles, the farther you plummet the more air you are deprived of. Your throat roughed up on its own as you gagged for oxygen. When you thought you were kicking your legs to perhaps swing yourself out, your ankles were all but a pair of spastic, twitching joints—any more and you just might tear your tendons due to the desperation brought by your fight-or-flight instinct.

It’s excruciating. Extremely.

You could feel like your heart would stop any moment now, unable to withstand this overwhelming sensation.

With your guard down, he got back at you in breaking your balance—kicking you in the shin so your stance falters—and then held you by the scruff of your shirt as he continued stealing what could be your Force energy. As he stole your essence, he took satisfaction in your bodily throes that were nothing more but feeble attempts to slip away from his grasp.

“Not so slippery, aren’t you, my little thorn?”

For every inch of translucent mist that wafted out you cannot breathe, your head felt heavy for each time the veins on your temples throbbed, and your vision went dim as you avoided eye contact with the Second Brother. Whatever form of escape you attempt, everything was pointless.

You are literally in the Second Brother’s grasp.

It is mercy that he has not killed you yet.

Although he decided to make a plaything out of your agony.

“LET ME GO!!! LET… M-ME… G-G-GO!!!” you ear-shattering plea fell to deaf, sadistic ears.

As you suffer with every violent jerk of your body—so much so that it cramped your muscles—every labored, through-the-teeth breath, and the frenzied shifting of your eyes to fight off the dimming—all of these reactions to the intolerable, inhumane pain that you’re experiencing right now does not seem to sate this Inquisitor.

Through his wicked Force ability, he was able to see everything in the recesses of your mind—your memories, dreams and nightmares, and fears. He bore witness to the nightmare that has haunted two nights ago until the eve of this very day. The Second Brother wanted to make sure that you will see and realize that your motivation is also your weakness.

“Now I see whom that fire burns for,” he purred.

His cackling began with a wheeze, muffled yet still audible through his mask’s ornate face plate. As he looked into your shifty eyes, he mocks you by watching your nightmare play like a film… over and over again, to his liking.

All of a sudden, his strength appears to have double compared to hours ago. The longer he inflicts this agonizing power over you, the more you submit to your knees—with the toll of the pain becoming more and more unbearable.

This was a dark, distorted mirror image of Cal’s own ability: Psychometry. His and the Second Brother’s abilities are near-identical; the only difference is that the Inquisitor has yet to demonstrate that he can manipulate his victim’s visions to his whim—bending them, poisoning them, and ultimately changing them—to further twist what they truly convey. This is a capability that he has earned through the Dark Side of the Force.

“I can see him heading this way right now,”

“Liar! He’s out there fighting with the others,”

“Oh, I never lie. I may be bad, little thorn, but I do not lie—it’s a lesser, lamer evil, in my opinion.”

“And I am supposed to believe you—of all people? I’d rather believe a pile of Bantha shit if it talked!”

The fight dragged on, while it did, Cal tore his way through the enemy fronts, leaving lifeless Stormtroopers in his wake—but he hasn’t gotten any closer to the stronghold to get to you. From where he stood, he could see the rebels that you came with pour out of the entrance, some of them leaped from the towers, taking the enemy by surprise and flanking them.

He squinted his eyes through the battlefield, he couldn’t spot you—he knew what you wore and none of those figures in the distance matched.

“Where are you, [Y/N]?” Cal growled in frustration and growing fear.

The Inquisitor continued to siphon your Force energy out of your system, leaving barely an ounce from the vessel.

When he’s had enough of it, he releases his grip from the collar of your shirt and then you felt a row of solid, metal knuckles slammed to your cheekbone. You literally saw stars, mere white specks dancing behind your eyes as the surroundings blurred; you can barely make a proper stance, let alone stand straight. The Inquisitor laughed in mockery.

“With every step he takes, the closer that nightmare of yours becomes a reality,” he cooed.

“Just shut up!”

“Oh, and would you look at the time?” he chirped in his trademark singsong tone, only this time it was sarcastic and meant to taunt you.

Eleven minutes remain on the clock.

You spot this from the nearest time-bomb at the corner of your eye.

“Do you still think you can play around with fate, little thorn?”

There still some fight left in you, though your battle was both physical and mental, it’s difficult enough to deal with the physical—what more of the latter?

Being drained of your Force essence was relative to losing a lot of blood—you’re nauseous and groggy, your vision’s fogged and wobbly, and your grip can barely keep itself tight. You cannot even hold your defensive stance for more than a minute. You coax yourself to take long, slow, calm breaths—it was effective. Slowly, you recompose yourself.

Your objective in mind is to hold off the Second Brother while affording enough time to escape.

“There is another way of saving him, you know,”

You ultimately hate to admit it… but he’s right.

As he had siphoned the Force out of you, he has also seen through the secrets of your mind. He knew of your fear—the apparent death of Cal. You’ve already figured out that the blinding red and orange light, the ash and soot, all came from the imminent explosion caused by the bombs destroying the reactors.

Little did you know that the solution he had intentionally embedded in your mind was a distortion, a trick, and he smiled to himself sensing full well that you’re slowly biting into the bait.

“Are you really going to let his blood be on your hands? It’s going to be a lot, you might not keep all of it, little thorn,”

“Don’t call me that…” you snarled through the grit of your teeth as you sobbed.

You’re desperate. The longer the clock ticks, the more imminent Cal’s death would be.

Come on, [Y/N], think fast!

You will not allow the Second Brother to get the best of you. A mere second was afforded for you to meditate, to make peace quickly that your last-minute plan is the best and only resort to save Cal—without any other compromise.

I know he’s safe, that’s all that matters. You mouth the words to yourself like a prayer.

With one sweep of the arm, all of the bombs’ timers have been manually changed. Originally, only five minutes were remaining, but you—using the Force—overrode the configuration and set them all to ten seconds. This took the Second Brother by surprise, with the remainder of your strength, you kicked him on the chest and flung him a few inches away; while disoriented, you made a run for it—dashing through the air in the same speed as he did, scaled and skipped a few spokes of the ladder until you hauled yourself to the platform. Doing these doubled the toll your body is already taking, which is struggling to keep you from collapsing; your breath heaved and your own weight suddenly became anvils.

Now that you’ve gotten yourself to high ground, you’ve used up all of your energy and returned to your sluggish, weakened state. The exit is still far off and you can see the digits on the clock.

00:05.

“W-Where’s [Y/N]?” Cal demands an answer from the rebel who ran past him, grabbing the soldier by the sleeve.

“I-I don’t know! An Imp attacked us from nowhere… he’s already killed Yenna!”

“Imp? What Imp?”

“He had a saber like yours, except red.”

The young Jedi let the partisan go. Based on the last thing the rebel said, Cal already knew it was no ordinary Imp.

His fears have come true. Although he was aware of the risks already but he never anticipated you would face an Inquisitor alone!

00:02.

Before Cal could even get any closer to the stronghold, he—along with everyone else, friend and foe alike—stopped dead in his tracks, startled by the rumble that sourced from the building. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped—the red and orange cloud of fire filled the pair of jade eyes—and his heart drummed so loudly that it just might tear right through his ribs and out from his leather armor. Goosebumps pelted his arms, cold sweat trickled on his temples, and the hairs at the back of his neck pricked up.

“No…!” he gasped. When the reality of the explosion eventually sunk into him, despite refusing the truth right in front of him, he roared your name at the top of his lungs—so much so that he wheezed when he inhaled.

“Beeeeeeee!!!!” BD-1 let out of the shrillest, ear-shattering chirp he has ever done in his entire life.

“FALL BACK!!!”

“RETREAT!!”

The Stormtroopers cried in panic, some turned tail and fled, a brave handful kept shooting while slowly stepping back. The rebels gradually overtook the field until the numbers have thinned out in the enemy’s side. Having a complete disregard for his safety, Cal charged through the crossfire, powered yet blinded by pure adrenaline, a few of the partisans called out to him but to no avail.

“CAL, HEY COME BACK!!”

“CAL, COME BACK HERE!!!”

Cal was hindered from coming closer as another minor explosion followed up after the big one. The wind of the blast was enough to fling him away and the couple of partisans who called for him ran and caught up to him. The hooked their arms underneath Cal’s.

“NO, WAIT!!! [Y/N] IS STILL IN THERE!!!” Cal violently kicked and attempted to shake them off his arms, but they’ve held him tight enough to bruise his arms through the sleeves. “GET OFF OF ME!!!”

“Cal, come on! We gotta get out of here!” insisted the male partisan who’s the first to call Cal out when he ran off.

The two young men worked together in hauling Cal out of the fire’s radius—surprisingly, he was heavy for both of them, considering the insistent one was a bit bulkier in stature, but that’s the adrenaline doing its job in his body—the ginger kept his eyes on the blazing stronghold, his emotions have clouded the clarity of his mind as well as his good judgment.

The pair of rebels had regrouped with Cal in tow—who was still being stubborn and difficult to deal with. They reported the one known casualty—the woman who personally called you Little Spark, the woman named Yenna, murdered by the Inquisitor upon making his grand entrance earlier.

Cere personally approached him to greet him back, but when the woman saw that you’re missing, her eyes searched the entire group.

“Where’s [Y/N]?”

“She wasn’t with them when they rendezvoused,”

“Th-Then where?”

Cal’s face lit up and frantically patted his person in search of the compact radar. There was no sign of your blip. He could’ve sworn he saw it blink once before it died out.

“No! My radar’s bust, but I know she’s out there, Cere!”

Cere, unsure of what to make of Cal’s medley of emotions, sighed and spoke nothing. Cal insisted on setting up a search party for you with him personally leading it. The idea was merit, unfortunately, the young redhead isn’t the one calling the shots.

“Whoa, slow down, kid,” the captain in charge stepped into the scene between Cal and Cere. He expresses that he understands what the boy is going through, shell-shocked by the apparent fact that you might have been killed in the explosion, but he also expressed the importance of the survivors’ individual well-being.

“We have to tend the wounded first; and you’re gonna need some equipment if you want to charge through that fire out there,” added the captain.

“I won’t need a lot of men, rather I don’t any,”

The same couple of partisans who hauled Cal against his will—namely Larki and Morzen—cut in directly after Cal’s statement. They volunteered to go with him, thus it’s just the three of them as a search party. They have enough people back in the rendezvous point and the main hideout to care for the wounded and send them back for proper medical attention. The captain personally took and handed over sets of protective gears for Cal and his companions.

The three of them mounted speeder bikes—Cal rode along while Larki and Morzen shared. Cere watched the trio disappear into the horizon and then her head craned to the sky peeking over the trees.

It will be night very soon.

“Your boy sure is persistent,”

“It’s because he feels something is there, and he means what he says,” Cere argued. She nodded sideways to the captain, gesturing him to the tent until their land transport arrives.

[islamthewayforward]

Hazrat Umar (radiyallahu anh) - The Second Caliph of Islam

Hazrat Umar -radiyallahu anh- [634-644]

Before he was enlightened with the light of Hidayet, in the darkness of the ignorant, when he was a cruel person; He received the prayer of the Messenger of Allah and his eyes and heart began to open to the light of Islam with the influence of the Quran, which he listened to in his sister's house with anger. Umar, the son of the Jahiliyy, was now tearful, his heart full of compassion, and bent before the Truth.

Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) Love For Hazrat Umar

Hazrat Umar, who was likened to Hazrat Musa by our Prophet with his uncompromising and graceful structure; He had a mind, success, and genius who developed in the content of revelation. As a result of divine inspirations, many times his expressions were related to the verses of the Quran.

Our Prophet stated the following in his expression:

“Among the ummahs who lived before you, there were those who were inspired by them. If there is one of them in my ummah, it is undoubtedly Umar. (Bukhari, Ashab as-Prophet, 6)

His exposure to the truth in this way, to him; He was instrumental in giving him the nickname «Faruk» distinguishes right from wrong, good from bad, and right from falsehood.

In the words of our Honorary Prophet (PBUH), The wrath of this blessed person, whom the devil changed his way when he saw it, and whose language and the truth was put into his heart by Allah was directed only to the enemies of Allah.

In the face of truth, he would immediately show obedience and surrender in the face of an order or a sign of Allah and His Messenger.

The following incident reported by Ahmad bin Hanbal is one of the most beautiful witnesses of this:

One of the Numerous Loyalty Samples

Hazrat Umar radıyallâhu anh- was going to the Friday prayer one day during his caliphate. While passing through the wall of the house of Prophet Abbas, two drops of dirty water dropped from the groove on the roof - probably for cleaning - onto the robe of Hazrat Umar.

The caliph was bored and he reached out and dropped the gutter with his hand so that it would not drip on anyone else. Then he changed his robe and came to the mosque.

By referring to this event in the Friday sermon he gave, he said,

“–Community, you are doing wrong things. When I was coming, I was going through the wall or something. Dirt dripped from a gutter on me; I pushed it with the back of my hand and dropped that groove. " said. His word had just ended that Hazrat Abbas jumped out of his place and;

“–O Umar, what did you do? I saw it with my eyes; The Prophet (PBUH) himself placed that gutter there with his own hands. " said.

Hazrat Umar collapsed into the pulpit. What happened to him to spoil something that the Prophet (peace be upon him) had put forth! Immediately he recovered.

“Vallâhi, I will put my head against that wall. You, too, will step on my head with your foot, and you will put that groove back with your hand. ”and made up for his mistake by doing as he said. (See Ahmad b. Hanbal, el-Musnad, 1/210; Ibnul-Cevzi, Adjati's-safve, 1/285)

On the other hand, Hazrat Umar was very forward-thinking and fussy in order to preserve the religion. Praised by the Prophet as a door that does not allow mischief, Hazrat Umar (radiyallâhu anh) was visited by people and the tree under which his companions gave allegiance to the Prophet of Allah (PBUH) before the Musalaha of Hudaybiya at the time of his caliphate. When he saw that it was being imposed, he cut down this tree in order to mean that the ignorant would be caught in the poison that he had a divinity.

The Caliphate Of Hazrat Umar

One of the most important qualities of the caliphate of Hazrat Umar, who trembled out of fear of Allah and lived-in conviction, despite his high spiritual position and being heralded by the Prophet of Allah, was his unique justice.

The Emir of the Believers, who were called Umarul-Adl in the meaning of “the very thing of justice”, felt responsible even for the wolf that would plant a lamb near the Tigris.

After Hazrat Umar -radıyallahu anh- took office, he was in sorrow and anxiety due to the weight of his profession. Huzaifa saw him in this state and learned the reason for his sadness - radıyallahu anh-;

"–That's what hurts you, goddamn we'll fix you once we see you doing something wrong," he said.

Halif was very happy about this, he repeated his words Huzayfa -radıyallâhu anh- with an oath and;

"- Praise be to Allah, among you, among the companions of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and peace, be upon him, there were people to correct me when he saw my mistake." he said thank you. (Ibn-i Abi Shayba, Musannef, VIII, 154)

The fact that he went to Damascus with his slave and his camel in turn and came to the city on foot, despite all the insistence of his slave, went down in history as an example of justice, humility, and brotherhood. In the middle of the night, he ran to the rescue of the silent cries of the poor and the poor with his food sacks in the streets of Medina.

In the period of Hazrat Umar, the land of Islam; It had expanded to the borders of Iraq, Damascus and Egypt. A large number of spoils had been obtained. However, Khalifa had agreed to receive only an allowance from the treasury. Because he is with everything, in the footsteps of the Messenger of Allah and Hazrat Abu Bakr;

On the Way of Two Friends

He was running his life half hungry, half full of trouble, sometimes borrowing.

The notables of the Companions were saddened by this state of the caliph. They wanted to increase his salary. However, it was very difficult to tell him about this issue and to convince him. For this reason, they requested our Prophet's wife Hafsa, who was also the daughter of Hazrat Umar, to submit this offer to her father.

Hazrat Hafsa -radıyallahu anha- opened an offer to his father to raise his companions' salary for the caliphate and save him from boredom. Thereupon, Hazrat Umar -radıyallâhu anh- reminded his daughter Hafsa of the past;

"-My daughter! How were the Prophet's food and clothing? " asked.

Our Hafsa Valley;

"- It was the amount of Quran (enough for scarce opinion)." When he gave his answer, Hazrat Umar explained with the following elegant example that the wisdom of his life in hardship was to obey the Prophet of Allah and his predecessor, Hazrat Abu Bakr, in return for the abundance of treasure:

“–Two friends and that I am like three passengers on an equivalent road. The first one of us had a machine. The other took the same route and got the first. Thirdly, I would like to reach my friends. If I go too high, I can't keep up with them! Or wouldn't you want me to be the third on this road? " (Sehbenderzade Ahmed Hilmi, Tarih-i İslam, Vol . I, p.367 )

In the end, he drank the sherbet of martyrdom with the wish of a spotless and white life in the footsteps of his two friends and was buried in Rauza-i Mutahhara next to his two friends.

Hazrat Umar Quotes

How wise are the words of this great Companion, who is a sharp sword that separates truth and evil from divine inspirations;

“Wisdom is granted to an individual who leaves an excessive amount of talk.

Humility is granted to the heart of those who leave the gaze too much.

The taste of worship is granted to those who stop overeating.

Whoever leaves much laughter is granted majesty.

Honor is granted to those who leave humor.

A love for the hereafter is granted to those who leave the love of the world.

He who ceases to deal with someone else's shame is bestowed with the correction of his own faults.

The person who abandons research and incarnation in the state of Allah (which is beyond understanding) is granted salvation from discord. "

"The person I really like the most is that one who informs me of my shame and flaws." (Suyuti, Tarihu'l-hulefa, 30)

Someone was praising another person next to Hazrat Umar. He spoke of him in a reproach. Hazrat Umar asked him three questions:

a. Have you ever traveled with him?

b. Have you ever dealt with a transaction like trade?

c. Have you been neighbors to him morning and evening?

When the person says "no" to these three questions, Hazrat Umar:

"I swear by Allah, who is not any god but Him, you don’t know him!" (Al-Ghazali, Ihya)

Kadı Şurayh wrote a letter to Hazrat Umar and asked how he would rule. Hazrat Umar said:

« Judge by what is in the book of Allah. If you cannot find it in him, judge according to the sunnah of the Messenger of Allah. If not in the book of Allah and the sunnah of His Messenger, judge with the decrees given by the righteous. If you are not among the judgments made by the righteous, you can judge if you want, stay back if you want! I am of the opinion that it is better for you not to stand back and make a judgment.

“Don't dress women too beautifully. If one of them has a lot of clothes and nice ornaments, they will like to go out. " (İbnu'l-Cevzi, Menakıb)

“To correct people, you must first correct yourself. The most ignorant of the people is the one who sells his afterlife for someone else's world. "

“Be strong without violence, soft without showing weakness! "

The Final Thought

Let us make us one of his servants who can reflect the smiling face of Islam with his knowledge, wisdom, lust, justice, humility, and all praised moral virtues, by dispensing personality and character.

Amin!

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 16: Caring

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2740

What had happened before was happening all over again. For nearly two weeks, you didn’t see Bakugou even for a second. He didn’t come to find you or fetch you with a servant like you were used to, nor did you hear anything about him from the others. Tsuyu herself even mentioned that he had isolated himself for a while, and no one truly knew why. Well, you knew, but you weren’t going to go around telling everyone that you had nearly had sex with him before rejecting him. Just thinking about what you had done made you feel like a fool, and unfortunately for you, it wasn’t something that you could easily get off your mind. 

Walking through the halls seemed to help the most, since sitting in your room in silence only let your thoughts wander. At least out here, you could listen to the chirping birds as they began to return for spring or the running water through the various ponds that littered the palace courtyards. Windchimes and clanking bamboo shoots were soothing, and you almost didn’t hear the soft female voice calling to you. 

“Miss? Miss [L/N]?” 

Unable to resist a small jump in shock at the sudden presence beside you, you looked at the female servant as she gave a deep bow. “Y-yes?” 

“My apologies, but your presence has been summoned. Please follow me.” 

“Follow you? To where?”

“To the stables.” 

Feeling your heart nearly leap out of your throat, you fell silent as you followed her, clasping your hands tightly in front of you. You couldn’t help but be nervous, finding that there were a thousand scenarios running through your head. Were you being kicked out of the palace? Was someone taking you away to torture you for more information? Was someone going to try and get you home? 

You didn’t know, and upon seeing Bakugou standing alongside the brilliant black Yonaka and the smaller palomino Higure, your confusion only became doubly intense. Frowning, you stopped a few yards away, feeling reluctance boil in your stomach. Both horses were set for a few weeks worth of travel, but that didn’t make the purpose for this any clearer. You wanted to run away, go back into your room and hide under your covers just so you wouldn’t have to suffer through feeling that crimson gaze on your skin, but in the end, curiosity won over. 

Taking in a deep breath, you approached, accepting Bakugou’s help to get up onto Yonaka’s back without a word. In fact, neither of you said a single thing for a few hours as you traveled at a casual pace, with the palace and town soon far behind you. When you were sure that there wasn’t a single soul within earshot, you allowed the burning question to slip from your lips. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“I’m taking you back to the shrine, to see if you can find out how to get home from there. If you can, then I will deliver you there safely.” Bakugou spoke without an inch of hesitation or reluctance in his voice, but what he said still shocked you. Pulling on Yonaka’s reigns, you stopped the horse, who fussed and snorted at the rough command. 

“You’re what?!” 

Stopping as well, Bakugou turned Higure just enough to look at you, the calm expression he had been sporting now furrowed into a glare. “Isn’t that what you want? You want to go home. I’m trying to take you--” 

“Without even asking me first, or letting me say goodbye to everyone?” You felt so conflicted, feeling your eyes begin to well up with tears. Yes, you wanted to go home, but at the same time you almost… didn’t. This entire world was such an adventure for you, even though it had been harsh and dangerous, everything about it had felt right. Back home, you were lonely and forgotten, but here it seemed like you at least meant something to someone. After what had happened with Bakugou in the solitude of his room, there had been a reluctance growing within you to even attempt to go home. 

Perhaps, it would just be better to try and live here comfortably until your story came to an end. You could have friends, a career, and maybe even a lover in this place, if you stopped pushing them away as you had been.

“You can’t be serious, Demon. Ever since you got here, you have done nothing but whine and demand to go home, even after I’ve given you everything you could ever need. I even offered you myself, and that wasn’t enough. So what is it that you want?!” 

Beginning to feel ashamed of your rapidly changing opinions and wants, you hung your head, struggling to keep your tears at bay. “I… I don’t know…” 

After a moment of tense silence, Bakugou sighed, beginning to continue forward on the path. “We don’t even know if you can figure out how to get home or not when we reach the shrine. You can decide depending on what happens there if you want to go or return with me. I’m trying to help you, stupid woman.” 

Sniffling, you timidly urged Yonaka to follow, feeling your chest growing tight from the raging emotions within you. All this time, you figured that it wouldn’t even be possible to return to your era, nor that anyone would even give you a chance to try. But what if it wasn’t possible? Could you really handle that disappointment, to know that you would never experience the things that you used to love again? Would you really be able to be completely happy here, to make a life for yourself out of everything that you had? Would Bakugou even be able to care about you after everything you had put him through? 

Or was this… because he did care about you? You had been so cruel to him when you stopped him before, so maybe this was just another attempt for him to show you how sincere he was trying to be. Though, at this point, you weren’t sure if you could really trust your feelings or instincts. You had believed over and over that you were nothing but a tool, but it was obvious that was far from the truth. Your insecurities had made it impossible to believe you could be worth anything to anyone, but you had been. You were more than just your visions in Bakugou’s eyes, but you still couldn’t find it within yourself to accept it. 

If you did, then you would fall like a rock into his arms, creating a splash with violent waves that would ripple into oblivion. Your love for him would bloom and flourish, and there would be nothing but death to stop you. 

Death was coming to him. When exactly, you weren’t sure, but you knew that it was while he was still young. It could be any day now, the castle that housed all your friends and memories would be lit aflame and all would die. Including you, if you stayed, unless you were able to change that future. Perhaps, if it did come to it, you could save him and everyone else. But what ramifications would that have? Would the world you knew change at all? 

Honestly, would it even matter? You weren’t there anymore, so what did you care? 

I… I should be better. If I can’t go home, if it really is useless, then I need to try to make things better here. To live and… love, as long as I can. I just hope we don’t really start to hate each other on this trip… 

Giving a heavy sigh, you watched Bakugou’s back for a while, until you finally found the strength to speak. 

“Thank you… Katsuki…” 

“Don’t thank me yet, Demon… I can’t promise you’ll get what you want.” 

…

The journey to the shrine was admittedly an enjoyable one, if not a little boring. There was nothing exciting that happened, no storms, no enemies, and no exchange of romantic interest between you and your guide. In fact, Bakugou seemed to want to distance himself as much as he could, sleeping a few feet away from you every night and sitting across the fire during dinner. Conversation with him was still pleasant, as much as it could be, but he still seemed reluctant to talk at all in the first place. 

You couldn’t blame him. What you had done would crush any man's spirit, especially someone as proud and emotionally stupid as Bakugou. Still, you had meant what you said, that having sex with each other didn’t mean that he truly cared about you. The same went for you, too. You just couldn’t allow yourself to submit so easily to him, not when there was the chance that you would never see him again. You just couldn’t stand the thought of your adoration for him flourishing, all for it to be crushed into nothing, should you return home. 

There was a change in his attitude one night, which was the last evening before you reached the shrine. His brow was constantly furrowed in intense thought, more than normal, and it seemed as if he couldn’t even stand to spare you a single glance. You knew that this could very well be the last night you had together, and that simple fact tugged heavily at your heart. You didn’t want him to ignore you, to distance himself as much as he could, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to confront him. That is, until he spoke first. 

Swallowing the rabbit meat he had been chewing, Bakugou took a moment to use a stick to poke the fire between you, springing it back to life. “Have you decided?” 

“Decided?” Lowering the water flask from your lips, you gazed at him curiously over the flames, but he still didn’t look at you. “Decided what?” 

“If you will go home, given the chance.” 

“I… No, I haven’t.” 

With a click of his tongue in annoyance, Bakugou leaned back on one arm, turning his glare to the left towards the forest. “You’re such a fool. I don’t see why you would even want to return home, after everything.” 

“Everything? You mean… us--?” 

“No! Your stories and nonsense that you always told the stupid fish back home. All you would talk about is… how lonely you were. How you struggled through each day, how it was difficult to make friends or continue your education, whatever that may mean. You didn’t want to take care of yourself or even wake up every day. It just doesn’t make sense why you would want to return to that.” 

His words left you speechless. Never before had you met someone who was actually concerned about you in this way, who didn’t want you to go through your daily struggles. It was a normal thing in your era, for people your age to feel lost and struggle to continue through each day. But they were expected to, and so you did. If you complained about it, or tried to talk to anyone, then you were deemed lazy or overdramatic. No one would listen to you, and no one felt any sense of concern. 

But this man, who history had deemed a violent and war obsessed brute, had been concerned about your wellbeing in a way that no one else ever had. All his actions had been his way to try and help you, and you had been too blinded to see it. He had proven, over and over, that he cared about you, but you couldn’t listen. You couldn’t see it, even though it had been something you wanted so badly. He was something you wanted, his attention and his affection, his support and dedication. Everything your soul was missing was within this man, and from the moment you stepped foot into his era, you had been pulled to him like a magnet. 

And yet… 

“Katsuki--” A hiccup interrupted you, giving a small shake of your head. “Y-you don’t understand… I have to try.” 

“Why?! It’s so foolish--” 

“Because my heart can’t take it! I can’t stand not knowing! The people that I did have, I have to know that I can never see them again to be able to move on. I just…” You took in a deep breath to calm yourself, adjusting the way you were sitting. “Please, Katsuki… Once I know, I can finally just… know that I belong here.” 

Bakugou was silent for a moment, watching you closely over the crackling flames. “[L/N]... I don’t know how you have been feeling since you arrived here, but… from what I know about how you used to be, it seemed like you were trapped in darkness. But here, especially in the past few months, it doesn’t appear to be like that. To me… you glow.” 

“Katsuki…--” 

“The times you haven’t, have been because of me. I’m the one that’s a fool--” 

“--no, Katsuki--” 

“--and I’m sorr--” 

“Don’t!” 

Your outburst stopped him, your voice echoing across the grass and into the night sky. Standing, you stumbled over your belongings until you were at his side where you collapsed to sit on your knees. “Don’t you dare apologize!” Unable to control your own hands, they gripped on tightly to Bakugou’s robes near his chest. “You, of all people, have nothing to be sorry for! I’m the one that’s been difficult and caused so much fuss for everyone… You even risked your life to save me, and I did nothing but hurt you. I’m the one who should be sorry… and I am--” 

“[L/N]...” 

“-- and I don’t want you to hate me, even if I do end up returning home--” 

“--Listen--” 

“-- I’ve never cared about someone as much as I care about you--” 

It was his turn to silence you, but this time, it wasn’t with words. Cupping your cheeks, he leaned in to press his lips against yours, firm and aggressive at first to keep your attention. Then, it softened as you returned the affection, his thumbs stroking your skin to rid you of tears you hadn’t even noticed had fallen. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared before, so tender and filled with an unspoken restrained passion that you felt instantly warm from your lips to your toes. There was no lust, no spontaneous need for pleasure. It was just you two, and even as he pulled away, you didn’t feel the connection break, nor did you ever want it to. 

His crimson gaze locked with yours, Bakugou let both his hands fall to caress your neck. “There’s very little you could do to make me hate you. Deciding to go home is not one of them. I told you, if that’s what you decide, then I will deliver you there safely.” 

Sniffling, you could only find it within yourself to nod, resting yourself against his side with your face hidden in his shoulder. One arm around your waist, Bakugou allowed you to lean against him, even keeping one hand on the back of your neck to massage and squeeze lightly. His embrace was so calming, so comforting that you could easily fall asleep, but there was one thing keeping you alert. 

One emotion stuck out in your sour stomach against the rest, prickling and harsh. You felt guilty. He may have been so supportive of you up to this point, but he had no idea about the truth. He didn’t know that you were from the future, that you knew about him and what was to come. All he thought was that you were from some far-off village, and you wanted to stop lying to him. But could you? Could you really spill the truth to him now? He would probably think you’re insane. 

You knew, however, that this was your last chance. You had to tell him what could happen tomorrow, that you could suddenly vanish without warning. 

“Uhm… Katsuki…?” 

“Hm?” Bakugou’s hand fell from your neck to travel down your back, bringing a new heat to your cheeks and knot in your stomach. 

I… I can’t. 

“Just… Thank you. For everything…” 

“Sure, [L/N]. But we should rest… Tomorrow we’ll reach the shrine, so we’ll see if your memory favors you.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING OPPORTUNITY

So choose your users carefully, and be slow to grow their number. You can measure this fear in how much less risk VCs are willing to take. But there will be a lot of developers feel this way: One emotion is I'm not really proud about what's in the App Store approval process is broken.1 If you run out of garages.2 And that's what the malaise one feels in high school we'd have called its outline. I suspect if you had the sixteen year old Shakespeare or Einstein in school with you, they'd seem impressive, but not meanness. Most don't try to act tough with them unless you really are the next Google and dream of buying islands; the next, we'd be pondering how to let our loved ones know of our utter failure; and on and on.3

Just keep playing.4 Surely it meant nothing to get a job. The books the professors wrote about expert systems are now ignored. No one knows who said never attribute to malice what can be explained by incompetence, but it could be a 10x return for an angel, and moreover one that's focused on experimenting with language design, not performance. It's hard to think of your initial version not as a product, launch it with great publicity, and immediately they hope have a large user base.5 VCs will only invest in you if you start to get lots of attention. Fouls happen. It meant one could expect future high paying jobs.6 Probably it's simply that stupidity more often takes the form of having few ideas than wrong ones. All you have to do whatever it is eventually.

About a year ago I tried to figure out for yourself what's good. Apple I and the Apple II while working at HP, and there needs to be cut still further. So a software startup in Sweden is still at a disadvantage relative to one in the US, of ambitious people who grew the ladder under them instead of climbing it. You can just abandon that one and skip to the next sentence. There's no single solution to that. Their format is convenient, especially when you're generating code, to have operators that take any number of random factors could sink you before you can finish in a day or two, you can assume larval startups will break most of them a part time job. But the problem is lack of exposure, or whether the product's simply bad. Hard means worry: if you're not worrying that something you're making will come out badly, or that you won't be able to see that they're the sort of company that competes by litigation rather than by, say, the hundredth.7 The reason investors can get away with this is that they can watch you.

I found my stories pretty boring; what excited me was the idea of the corporate ladder was still very much alive. I was very impressed by the papers published by literary theorists were often just intellectual-sounding nonsense, and submitted it to a literary theory journal, which published it. What an opportunity, I thought; these impressive things seem easy to me; I must be pretty sharp.8 How did Apple get into this mess? I'm not saying you can get away with changing more than you think. Most companies that VCs invest in angel rounds is that they're overconfident.9 It's dangerous to design your life around getting into college.

Notes

Starting a company he really liked, but they're not ready to invest at a discount to whatever the valuation of the work of selection. They thought most programming would be a trivial enhancement of HTTP, to pretend that the worm infected, because any VC would think twice before crossing him. There are titles between associate and partner, including principal and venture partner. I wonder if that got bootstrapped with consulting.

But no planes crash if your school, because any VC would think Y Combinator in particular, because they could bring no assets with them in advance that you can't, notably ineptitude and bad outcomes have origins in words about luck. But if idea clashes became common enough, the higher the walls become. The second assumption I made because the money invested in a startup we had high hopes for doesn't do well, so we also give any startup that wants to the same. Founders also worry that taking an angel investment from a company's revenues as the cause.

It's surprising how small a problem into your head. 16%.

There is nothing you can imagine what it would have seemed a bad idea, at one point they worried Lotus was losing its startup edge and turning into a de facto chosen by human editors.

Then when we started Viaweb, if we just implemented it ourselves, so we hacked together our own, like warehouses.

Put rice in rice cooker, if you sort investors by benevolence you've also sorted them by the high score thrown out seemed the more thoughtful people start to leave. The continuing popularity of religion is the most successful startups, but I know it's a collection of specious beliefs about its intrinsic qualities.

But that was mistaken, and I had a contest to describe what they said.

Whereas many of the crown, and especially for opinions not expressed in it. Starting a company. They could make it sound. Many people feel confused and depressed in their graves at that game.

Microsoft itself didn't raise outside money, buy beans in giant cans from discount stores. Though they are not in the world, and suddenly they need to learn to acknowledge it. I realized the other side of making a good problem to have been sitting in their standards that they're starting petitions to save the old car they had to both left and right. This seems unlikely that religion will be coordinating efforts among partners.

[100-yardstare]

I can’t believe I missed ace awareness week. I wanted to blog a little about it, but my computer charger failed on me and it’s taken about a month for me to prepare for the bill to replace it. I feel yucky right now so I just felt like writing about what’s going on in general instead.

I’ve been on so many interviews. I was screwed over on my last big job interview (the one I ranted about last time) partially because I think my old boss that said she be a reference flat out told me she wasn’t going to do it AFTER I submitted her as a reference to the job, so I’m almost 98% sure I was passed over because of that. In addition one of the committee members that interviewed me got mad at me for calling her “ma’m”. She explained she wasn’t from Texas, and I apologized and said something on the lines of it must be a culture shock for her and I didn’t mean to offend. Somehow people think the term is used as an insult now, and that is beyond me. I guess I’m old school lol age is catching up with me and I’m not even realizing it.

So I’ve been on plenty of interviews since then but I keep getting passed over. The last one I had to take a aptitude test, and after receiving feedback from them as to why I was rejected, it’s apparently because I’m a slow calculator/clerical worker. Big whoop because I already know that. I am really feeling the negativity now as an adult looking for work about neurodivergent people trying to find a place in a neurotypical working world. I don’t want to disclose me being ADD to anybody in pre-employment screenings because I don’t want that label to penalize me. But one way or another being ADD does just so anyway.

Because it’s been about 9 months now without work I’ve been seeing my savings decline heavily. My medication bills are at least 155 a month, and on top of that I’m still paying off a stupid hospital bill from 3 years ago that was roughly 2,000 dollars for swallowing barium and a doctor looking at an X-Ray. So that comes to immediately at minimum 200+ dollars a month just on that. Add in the other stuff and I’m fucked without an income. I’ve applied to so many retail jobs too, but nobody gets back to me either.

I don’t go out much anymore because I can’t afford to charge for dinners, so I eat whatever my mom cooks. If she is too sick from her RA, then I try and cook, but because we don’t go to the store as often anymore to save on bills (my parents are having a hard time too) I have resorted to eating canned beans, soups, and others of likeness that don’t go bad. My father is also emotionally abusive to both me and my mom, and it’s gotten worse ever since he started having problems with his job. I can’t leave because I don’t have the money to live on my own. My hobbies have heavily declined. I used to make at least two big cosplay’s a year, and go to conventions, but I can’t do that because, OH NO, I don’t have enough money, and I can’t get a job. I cry all the time because I am so bored. I go out of the house only to volunteer once a week because gas money is tight, and to take my mom on errands. I dream constantly of going on trips. I feel trapped in this house I might as well be a ghost. I stare at my phone all day in hopes of either getting a response from an employer or validation from my social media, it’s pathetic. Imagine being so bored and trapped in your house AND being ADD. It’s like my mind is constantly going places and running around, and I just get emotionally exhausted because I have to tell myself, “no, I can’t afford to go eat at that place, I can’t afford to go on a roadtrip, I can’t buy the material to do my hobby”.

Here is what I learned from all this, which I’m sure a lot of you have already learned, or will learn. Getting a degree doesn’t do you shit. The world hates you and doesn’t care about you, yet values you only on how productive you are and how much money you can make. I see my friends trapped in this mindset right now, but what am I supposed to do? Tell them to give up on their dreams? My cousin is going to grad school for her SECOND Master’s because her other one isn’t getting her good jobs. She even has a full time job on top of it, but her car broke down, and with a full-time paying job she CAN’T AFFORD TO FIX IT. My friend is going to college to get a degree in computer engineering of the sorts, but she’s already 40,000+ dollars in loans. Tbh I’m so glad my brother dropped college. He was trying to complete a degree he didn’t even like, loathed as a matter of fact to the point of attempting suicide. My dad always told him trade school was bullshit, which is A LIE, so I’m sure he felt like he didn’t have any other options when he started. The trades are an awesome career path, and I have a deep respect for anyone who can become a welder, plumber, or whatever. Whatever he ends up doing I’ll be proud of him regardless. I’ve learned that there are other ways to make something for yourself. The traditional route of college doesn’t bring the American Dream, only our persistence and spirit does.

If you’ve gotten this far reading this, this is NOT to say drop out of school. But plan ahead. Don’t jump into college right after HS just because it’s expected of you. Don’t do a degree that you think is good just because it will make you money. One thing college did for me was teach me about myself. I have a massive learning disability, and I graduated. I worked hard for YEARS, thinking I’d never graduate because I had such a hard time keeping my grades up, managing my health, and all the sorts. But I did it! I graduated. The world has told me that doesn’t matter. The world is going to tell YOU that nothing you do matters or is of worth. But it is. You matter. You are NOT a burden.

I will say that all that has happened to me makes me a fierce advocate for those with disabilities and mental illness. My last job working at an ABA clinic showed me that babies (yes, literally BABIES) that don’t act neurotypical will be punished for it. I’ve seen in the work world that if you don’t act neurotypical, you are punished for it. Where I currently volunteer now there is a huge respect for disabled individuals. I see a lot of kids with cerebral palsy, autism, ADHD/ADD, and even physical disabilities. This one boy with CP couldn’t even walk before, let alone stand up, and now thanks to Equine Assisted Therapy, he can sit up and walk with assistance. He did that! That was his accomplishment and I am so proud of him. And yet a lot of people in the world will look at him with just another kid with disabilities that will probably not amount to much. See where I’m getting at? I’m so protective of these people because I am like them. One way or another, we have to stand up for eachother. My story with ADD may not be the same as a particular person with autism, CP, or mental illnesses, but we have to look out for each other. Going through all this has made me a stronger person and I will defend us with everything I’ve got.

FYI if any of you reading this wants to donate to a good organization this year for the holiday’s I’d HIGHLY recommend SIRE Therapeutic Horsemanship in TX. Great wonderful group of people and animals.

Yes, I’m in a horrible place right now. But I’ve learned. I sincerely hope things will change for me soon so I can better take care of myself and my mom, but of course I’m human and I’m going to suffer anyway in the moment. I hope 2020 is going to be better for me because this year was terrible. I crave financial independence, the ability to travel and see and experience new things, and be in a better spot professionally, and personally to do the things I want to do. Graduate school isn’t even an option right now because I can’t afford it, and as of now, I don’t care to go to graduate school. Maybe someday, years from now, but at this rate I’m so sick and tired of expectations from society I just say fuck it. I’ll get there at my own pace. And I’ll be successful without the worlds opinion on what makes me successful.

[raspberryparker]

someday | seven

college!au spidey x fem!reader

← previous | series masterlist | next → (coming soon)

word count: 4427

summary: finally some good fucking food spidey content. ned is a love guru. (not my gif)

warnings: see masterlist some vintage spidey-style crime stoppin’

read it on ao3

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━━━━━━━━

   It was far, far too cold out to be swinging through the bone-chilling air in nothing but a skin tight superhero suit and the boxers Peter had on underneath.

   If the snow that fell in faint flurries around him wasn’t bad enough, then the bite of the wind against his body as he zipped through the air was a bit overkill in his opinion. His fingers were going numb around the webbing he gripped in his fist and his thighs were doing that weird tingly thing that happens when they’ve been cold for too long. It felt like they were falling asleep but it also kind of hurt. It was far from pleasant. This was yet another instance in which he was eternally grateful for Mr. Stark putting that heater in his suit, because without it he was pretty sure he’d already have developed a bad case of hypothermia.

   Coming down from the arch of his last swing, he perched himself carefully on the top of a flagpole that came diagonally out from a building, his adhesive feet allowing him to grip the softball sized metal ball on the top of it with ease. Shaking his arms out and flexing his fingers, he eased the cramping of the muscles that often occurred after he’d been gripping a web for too long. As he sat there switching out his web cartridges, he watched as a child on the street below him caught one of the empty ones as it fell.

   He looked up at Peter with a pleased shriek of happiness, the boy’s giggle coming through his words as he shouted, “Hi, Spider-Man!”

   Peter grinned in the mask, holding up a hand and waving at the young boy below him. The boy’s mother crouched beside him, saying something in his ear and holding his hand as they both waved back.

   If anyone asked him, he would definitely have said that that was the best part of the whole ‘being a superhero’ thing; the happiness he brought people. The comfort that they could live in knowing he was keeping them safe. It was incomparable.

   Peter saluted the pair below them, before shooting a web at the building across from him and launching himself into the air once again. He could hear the boy’s laugh behind him as he swung away. He smiled to himself.

   “That was nice,” Karen said. “I’ve archived it with the rest.”

   “Awesome,” he grinned.

   A few months back, he’d decided to make use of the fact that Karen could record the things he saw, and asked her to save his favourite moments for when he was feeling upset. It definitely helped to cheer him up. Those few days when he was sick, he sat in bed with a box of pizza with his mask on (pulled up over his mouth though—he still needed to eat) and watching a few selected clips. His favourite was when a little girl had spotted him in Central Park, scurrying up to him while her mother tried to stop her, and presented Peter with a small flower she’d picked on the way over to him. He’d sat there on his bed, watching on his suit’s display as she grinned between missing teeth all over again, and he took the flower from her and thanked her. He hadn’t been expecting for her to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, her pigtails tickling his neck through the suit, but he laughed happily as he carried her back to her mother and handed her off. The woman apologized for disturbing him, but he waved it off, giving the little girl a high five before he swung off again.

   That little encounter had been all over Twitter for the next week. Sometimes he forgot just how many, uh… fans he had.

   But it was all worth it.

   He still had the flower pressed into one of his chemistry textbooks.

   It had been a pretty uneventful day so far, apart from the fact that it had started snowing again and he’d almost slipped off multiple rooftops. For someone with sticky limbs, he was really doing a bad job at using them. Well, as uneventful as it could be for Peter when he was doing his rounds.

   He’d stopped a couple robberies already, saved a man from being mugged, and even pulled a frightened cat out of where it’d gotten stuck on a fire escape. You know, normal Spidey things. But he was really hoping for something fun to come his way, something that would make being out on that incredibly cold day worth his suffering. He had no classes on that day, Y/N was busy in the library so they couldn’t meet up to study, Ned was either in a lab or busy working on his assignments, and MJ was working on her biggest painting yet that she was supposed to submit in place of her midterm exam… basically, everyone had a life. So Peter decided it would be a perfect moment to do his rounds.

   Except for the fact that the day had turned out to be incredibly boring. And cold. Very boring and cold.

   As he swung by a few buildings, the receivers on his suit were able to pick up voices coming from a secluded area behind them. As curious as ever, he pulled himself up and over the roof of the building, free falling down on the other side. He caught himself on the fire escape, careful not to alert the men below him of his presence. In the alley-like area where the back sides of three buildings faced each other, Peter peered down at the group of five men standing around a black sedan, another identical one parked a few feet away.

   If that didn’t scream ‘suspicious’, he didn’t know what would.

   The snow drifted down softly around them as they huddled near the trunk, the flakes still too small and thin to stick properly. They all wore thick, heavy jackets to protect themselves from the cold, a few even with black toques on their presumably bald heads. They were, essentially, the poster children for ‘dangerous thugs’. Karen took the liberty of running facial recognition on all of the men facing toward him.

   “They’re all convicted felons,” she informed him. A collection of file icons gathered in the top right corner of the display, names popping up next to the boxes around their faces as Karen pulled their records. “Would you like me to scan their persons?”

   “Please,” Peter muttered, still worried they might spot him.

   He watched as the outlines of handguns appeared in blue along their waistlines, almost every single one of the men there armed, bar one or two. Well. There was nothing better than the threat of getting shot.

   With his mind already made up to intercept whatever obviously illegal activity this gang of goons were up to, he latched a web onto the railing of the fire escape and gripped it with both hands and feet as he descended slowly behind them upside down. They still hadn’t noticed him (which was surprising because his suit colours tended to stand out; maybe they were just that dumb). Just as he was about to reach their level, still about six feet off the ground, one of the thugs opened the trunk of the car.

   “Vinny was supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” a gruff voice muttered in a thick, almost too stereotypical ‘New Yorker’ drawl. “If he doesn’t show up, I swear I’ll kill him. Does he know how risky it is to just be out here with all this shit? We’re like sitting ducks.”

   “I told him, Frankie. Three-thirty, I told him.”

   “Well, he’s late. And that makes us late, so you do the math, dipshit.”

   Peter almost laughed out loud.

   Inside the trunk (oh, this was just too good), were perfectly packaged bricks of white powder wrapped in plastic. Drug deals were his absolute favourite bust. There had to be at least fifty of those bricks, and whoever put them there clearly crammed as many of them into the boot of the car as they could. They looked like they were about to burst.

   Lowering himself until he was just about eye-level with the shortest one, still upside down, Peter cleared his throat.

   “You know,” he said, watching as the men whirled around in surprise. “When people say they’re dreaming of a ‘white Christmas’, I don’t think that’s exactly what they mean.”

   “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” one of them (Frankie, if his memory served him correctly) shouted. “Do something! Kill him!”

   Peter allowed himself to drop to the ground, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet. As a particularly burly thug charged at him, he dodged the oncoming collision by moving to his right. The assailant whirled past him, and he pivoted on his feet and used one of the many gadgets embedded into his web shooters (thank you, Ned) to plaster the guy to the wall of the building behind him with a large net of webbing. Peter’s nerves began firing rapidly, the back of his neck tingling, alerting him of someone approaching from behind him. He jumped into the air, flipping over top of the second thug, before allowing him to meet the same fate as his buddy.

   “Don’t let him get in the air!” came a shout.

   He turned quickly, spotting the other three men with their pistols drawn and pointed directly at him. Peter, acting quickly, used both web shooters to latch onto two of the guns, disarming his opponents. He flung them over his head like a lasso, tossing the weapons to the other end of the alley.

   The offenders growled in frustration, and began barreling toward him.

   “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Peter said, the sarcastic tone prevalent in his voice. “Can’t we resolve this by using our words? You know, like normal, law abiding citizens?”

   Peter felt a tickle on his neck, his ear twitching in warning. He jerked his head to the left, watching as the bullet he narrowly dodged whizzed past his face before he even heard the shot go off.

   Turning to look at the only thug who still had a gun, the eyes of his mask went wide in mock surprise.

   “Oh. Right.”

   He caught one of the men running at him and threw him up into the air, shooting a web at him and pulling it down hard. He landed on top of the other one, knocking them both down like dominoes with resulting sharp groans. There was only one left, and he still had that gun.

   Peter dodged another bullet, and disarmed the man the same way he had done the others, but this time knocking the pistol against his nose for good measure. He caught the gun in the opposite hand, clicking the magazine out in one swift movement.

   “I’ve always hated guns,” he sighed, tossing both pieces in opposite directions. “There’s so many more elegant ways to go about things. Like this.”

   With a quick push, Peter turned and hit the man in the chin with his foot as he bicycle kicked him, flipping and landing in a crouch with his fingers to the floor.

   “Now I’m just showing off,” he laughed.

   He quickly went about webbing the disoriented assailants to various surfaces, laying a couple on the ground, and the other stuck to a wall. He clapped his hands together, admiring his handiwork, and turned to the car they’d all busied themselves with earlier.

   “Now then,” he said to himself. “What’s all this about?”

   He approached cautiously, fully knowing it might have been rigged, and used the scanner in his suit to determine the substance in the packages. Although, he didn’t really need to. Everyone and their dog knew that those were bricks of pure cocaine. But better safe than sorry, he always said.

   As the display in his suit confirmed his suspicions, one of the thugs that he’d left conscious started to yell.

   “You just fuckin’ wait, you spider asshole!” he shouted. “Once the boss finds out, you’re as good as dead! He’s gonna tear you to shre—”

   “Oh, shut up,” Peter groaned, extending an arm behind him and webbing the man’s mouth shut without even turning around.

   Circling around the car slowly, he peered into the windows. In the backseat, obscured by the tinted glass, were two metal crates. He scanned its contents, eyes widening in surprise when he saw them chock full of military grade weapons. He was more than confused now.

   Peter stepped over to the felon whose mouth he’d just webbed over, still squirming on the ground in his web cocoon like a caterpillar, and crouched down before him, resting on the balls of his feet.

   “Frankie, right?” he asked, recalling the conversation he’d had with the other earlier. “I’m gonna take this off now but you gotta be good for Spidey, okay?”

   The man did nothing more than grunt.

   Tilting his palm toward Frankie’s mouth, Peter used the solvent spray he kept for emergencies on the patch of white on his face, softening the webs until he was able to peel them back.

   Immediately, the thug went to spit in his face. Or mask, he supposed.

   “Hey now, what’d I say?” Peter asked, turning slightly so the projectile missed him. “That’s not very nice.”

   “Fuck you,” Frankie said through gritted teeth.

   Peter gripped Frankie’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face side to side and observing his features. He was rough and rugged, his five o’clock shadow scratching against Peter’s fingers through the suit, and his short dark hair was cropped military style. His dark eyes, hooded by equally dark, angry eyebrows, gleamed with malice and his teeth were bared fiercely, the off white colour smeared red with blood from his busted lip. He looked almost too much like a criminal. It was kind of funny.

   Peter smirked, one eye of his mask widening as he raised an eyebrow.

   “Maybe if you weren’t a criminal,” he said, releasing Frankie’s chin and letting his head hit the ground. “But I’m afraid we’re just too incompatible.”

   Frankie cursed loudly, his eyes shutting as his head smacked the pavement loudly.

   “You were using some pretty brave words, earlier,” Peter went on, tilting his head curiously as his eyes narrowed and he rested his elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists under his chin. “Who exactly do you work for, anyway? I’d like to know what I’m in for when your boss comes after me.”

   “Heh,” Frankie laughed mirthlessly. “I thought Spider-Man would be smarter than to mess with Nefaria’s guys.”

   Peter’s eyes widened, recognizing the familiar name of one of the Maggia crime families, though more importantly, the name of a man he’d fought before on multiple occasions.

   “As if I’m scared of The Count,” Peter scoffed. “I already told him to go back to Sesame Street. Many times. But you’ve piqued my interest now; I’ve heard the Maggia’s had a little trouble lately. Your pal Hammerhead’s all worked up over it. That why you guys moving your goodies?”

   Frankie leaned to the left, spitting out blood mixed with saliva on the ground next to him. Peter grimaced.

   “What’s it to you?” he asked, voiced grating. “Ain’t you trying to take us down, too? Thought you’d be on the same side as that freak.”

   “You wound me,” Peter said sarcastically, holding a hand to his chest. “Actually no, you don’t; pretty sure I’m doing all the wounding here. But you should know, killing’s not really my… thing. Especially not like that.”

   “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Frankie smiled. “Hammerhead’s comin’ after you as soon as he’s done with that freak show who’s been fuckin’ up our business. He’s got a special place on his mantel just for your head.”

   “I really hate it when the families work together,” Peter groaned, standing from his crouching position. “More trouble for me.”

   “I’ve alerted the nearest police precinct of our whereabouts,” Karen informed him. “Officers are en route.”

   “Good news, though,” Peter told Frankie, turning and walking away from him. “Your ride’s on its way. It’ll be the one with the flashing red and blue lights.”

   As he jumped from the ground, bracing himself against the outer wall of the building, he heard Frankie call after him, shouting from below.

   “You’re gonna regret goin’ after him!” he yelled. “He’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen before!”

   Peter turned, trying to mask the concern in his voice as he replied.

   “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

━━━━━━━━

   In Y/N’s opinion, there was nothing better than curling onto the small window seat in her dorm in her softest sweater, watching the snowfall and coat the park her room face in its sugary flakes as she read her favourite book and sipped some tea. Her copy of The Shining had been given to her by her mother twelve years prior, and she’d read it about a hundred times since then. The cover was bent in multiple places, the binding wearing thin from all the folding, but she thought it gave the novel character.

   It was already dark outside, but the snow reflected the orange glow of the city lights like nothing else, so she still had enough reading light provided she was right next to the window. That and the lights that lit up Washington Square Park only a couple blocks away gave washed her in a warm glow to counteract the chill of the snow.

   There was just one small thing wrong with that particular situation.

   “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

   Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, closing the book and pressing it to her forehead before she took a breath. She loved Ned—really, she did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get annoyed at him for being very vocal about his opinions on the plot of whatever comic he was reading.

   “Ned,” she sighed. “Could you keep it down? I’m trying to read.”

   “Oh, shit, yeah sorry,” he muttered. She heard him adjust his position on her bed, probably wrap the blanket her grandmother had made for her before she went off to university that he loved so much (“It’s just so soft, Y/N,” he’d said. “Feels like I’m wrapped in a cloud. Or cuddling a sheep. I love sheep.”), and cleared his throat. “What’cha reading, anyways?”

   Turning to him, she came to terms with the fact that she probably wasn’t going to get any more reading done that evening and closed the book, setting it down next to her. She’d been right—Ned was wrapped from head to toe in the blue blanket. He held it tightly around his chin with one hand, and his open comic book in the other. She smiled fondly at him.

   “Guess.”

   “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “You know I’m bad at that.”

   “Okay, I’ll give you a hint,” she smiled. “I’ve already read it.”

   “That gives me absolutely nothing. Just tell me.”

   Y/N laughed. “I’m reading The Shining.”

   “Again?” he asked. Ned slipped the blanket off his head but still held it around his shoulders, revealing his ruined bed hair. Y/N had seen pictures of him in high school when it had been longer, but she felt the shorter style suited him more. It was still fluffy on the top, just shorter on the sides, and she liked mussing it up with her hands to mess with him. “What is this, like, the three millionth time?”

   “What? It’s my favourite for a reason.”

   “If you say so.”

   They sat in silence for a moment, Y/N taking the interruption as an opportunity to stretch her limbs out, her shoulders popping deliciously as her cramped up joints were given room to breathe. When she looked back at Ned, he was looking at her curiously, brows furrowed and with an expression that made him look like he was deep in thought.

   “Okay,” she said, raising her mug of tea to her lips. “What is it? Come on, spit it out.”

   “How do you feel about Peter asking you out?”

   Turns out she’d be the one who’d end up spitting.

   Her nasal cavity stung, eyes watering as the tea she was in the middle of taking a sip of traveled up the wrong canal and almost came out her nose. She coughed and sputtered furiously, trying to get the remnants of liquid out of places they were not supposed to be as she set her mug down on the windowsill.

   “What?”

   “You know, I almost couldn’t believe he actually got the guts to do it,” Ned went on, as if nothing had happened. He stood and stretched as well, absentmindedly picking up one of the stuffed bears Y/N kept on her bed and bending its ears between his fingers. “Peter’s like a child when it comes to girls. He still uses the word crush, can you believe that? He’s a literal baby.”

   “Ned, what are you talking about?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath. “Peter didn’t- he never… look, what gives you that idea?”

   “Ohhh,” he smirked. “Oh, I see.”

   Y/N furrowed her brows, not liking how cryptic Ned was being one bit. She watched as he opened her mini-fridge, identical to the one in every other dorm room, and took out an apple juice box.

   “Dude, I love you, but you’re fucking oblivious,” he laughed. “For an English major who’s supposed to be observant or whatever, anyway.”

   “Okay, I’m lost.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a noise of confusion, as she shook her head. “You still haven’t told me what you’re talking about.”

   “Thanksgiving.”

   “Okay… what about it?”

   Ned stuck the small straw into the juice box and took a sip, not break eye contact with Y/N as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

   At this, her eyes widened.

   Oh. Oh, shit.

   “Ned, that wasn’t- listen he- he didn’t-”

   “Oh, but he did,” he said, taking a seat on the end of her bed and poking her softly with his sock clad foot. “When he told me he asked you to come, I was shocked. Don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I mean. I mean I was shocked that he’s the one that asked you. Believe me, I was planning on it, but Pete beat me to the punch.”

   “So why is that a big deal?”

   “I’ve known the kid since we were ten, and in all my years of putting up with his shit, I’ve never once seen him open up to someone or accept them as a friend as quickly as he did with you.” He furrowed his brows then, tilting his head. “Actually, nevermind that’s a lie. There was one other person, but… that’s not the point. My point is he totally likes you.”

   “Yeah,” Y/N said. “Likes me as a tutor. I’m helping him not get kicked out of school, of course he’d like me for that.”

   “Not only are you oblivious, but you’re dense, too. I thought you were smart.”

   “Thank you, I try.”

   Ned shook his head, getting up from her bed and tossing the now empty juice box into the little recycling bin next to her door. “Whatever, dude. You’re both hopeless.”

   Just as he was about to sit back down onto her bed and pick up where he left off in his comic, his phone chimed loudly in his back pocket. As he reached for it and read the notification, Y/N watch the progression of his facial expression as it went from happy, then confused, and finally rested on deep concern. He scrambled to put his shoes back on, hopping around on one foot and reaching for his backpack at the same time.

   “Uh,” Y/N asked. “What’s up?”

   “It’s Peter,” Ned replied, throwing his hoodie over a shoulder. “I gotta go.”

   Y/N almost physically felt the blood drain from her face as her skin took on a ghostly pallor at the news. What if he was in trouble? He could have gotten hurt again doing God knows what. Maybe Ned did know about what Peter liked to do after hours.

   “I-is he okay?”

   Ned must have heard the concern in her voice before he met her eyes, because he gave her a soft smile and a sigh.

   “Yeah, yeah I’m sure he’s fine,” he reassured her. “But he needs me, like, right now. I’m sorry to bail like this.”

   “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just… text me, yeah? Let me know if anything’s wrong?”

   If she hadn’t been paying close attention to Ned as he stuck half his body out of her door, she would have missed the knowing smile that crossed his expression before he replied.

   “Of course. See ya later, Y/N.”

   And with that he was gone.

   Y/N turned to her tea, now going cold as it sat in the chill of the wind that seeped in through the window. She brought the mug to her lips, looking through the glass and watching the people on the street below her, but quickly set it back down as she found herself unable to stomach anything. She was lucky to have gotten a room with a view of the streets and the park rather than the alley that lay behind the building. But even the sugar frosted trees and the lights that made them sparkle like diamonds were not enough to brighten her mood.

   She felt her gut fall heavy with the familiar feeling of dread.

   It was a feeling that she was getting more and more accustomed to as the days went on. That night about three days prior, when she’d been waiting for Peter to return before he’d taken her to see the aforementioned lights, she’d spent the evening worrying about him. She didn’t think it was weird, something like being worried about a friend, but then again, she didn’t even know if he considered her a friend.

   Sure, they had a mutual friend. But that was about it.

   It wasn’t weird to worry about his safety when she barely knew him… right?

   Tucking her earbuds in, she turned back to the book she’d previously abandoned to try to take her mind off of things.

   And it definitely was not because she didn’t want even the slightest chance of missing Ned’s text when or if he decided to update her.

   Of course not. And she’d continue to tell herself that for the rest of the night.

━━━━━━━━

A/N: peter is a bisexual disaster (as am i, but anywho)... the plot thickens. also i love the comic villains a lot so expect a few surprise appearances from some nasty guys and gals wink wink

and please support my love for longer fluffy haired pete cuz you’re gonna get a lot of it. picture peter with longer, fluffier hair bc i definitely feel like he’d forget to cut it while in college bc may’s not there to remind him. i’m talking like edge of winter fluff, but it sticks up all over the place okay let me live i love messy curly hair.

read it on ao3

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[epiphanicwiring]

My controlling mother

I’ve been 20 years old for some months now, but it’s been a while I’ve come to suspect my mother is indeed controlling. Parents shape, in some way or another, even tacitly or subtly, and to some extent, our common sense, values and life perspectives, although it is in our own will whether we critically analyze them, follow or refuse them... Sometimes our concept of what is ‘normal’ is warped, and because it is ingrained in our common sense, we don’t doubt about its veracity until we pop some of our experience into a conversation with friends, our therapist or significant other, and they give you a look of concern. That is what happened to me: It’s no news I’ve been suffering from depression for years, so the first time I went to see a therapist was in 2015 (I was 15/16 then). I would walk from school to the psych’s, and I would wait until I was inside of the building to message my mother that I have arrived (I felt I would be lying if I did it outside the building, at the door, for example). I did it every time. My therapist found this odd: I naturally explained to her what I was doing, as it was something I was accustomed to. She was probably the first one to point me out that that was a bit too much. But I always did it: “School”, “Conser(vatory)”, “Psychologist”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. I knew that if I didn’t send her those messages, she would become worried, and call me or my friends, only to know that I was okay, and then she would get angry and I would have to stand it. Then I got into university in 2017. I got into the Sound Engineering career. This is a sub-story: Throughout my adolescence, I was pretty much interested in every career known to man. My grades at school were so incredible I had an average of almost 9.7/10 in all of the subjects that were in Spanish, since I went to a bilingual school (I have to admit, Physical Education was the only subject I failed at, and that’s probably why I didn’t have a 9.9 or something), and an average of 10/10 in all of the English subjects. That was no surprise, I was the ‘gifted, brilliant’ student child since primary school; I still can recall my mother’s facial expressions when receiving my grades when I was 6 or 7, crying of joy. It’s up to this day that no one who personally knows me (except for my closest friends and boyfriend) even dares to ask me how am I doing at university, because ‘I must be doing terrifically good’. Back to the sub-story, my main career choices were Astronomy, Psychology, Fashion Design, Medicine (I’ve been interested in Neurology, Neuroscience and Neurosurgery for quite a long time now) and Music. That’s quite a lot, yeah. But my main dream was to be a composer. So when I was around 14 years old, I happily expressed this to my mother. “Composition? You want to study Composition? You’ll starve yourself to death. You can’t live off it”. (The same answer I got when I was little and dreamt of being an astronomer, by the way). She followed it with: “You have such a brain you could be a neurosurgeon. That’s what you could be”. As if composing were easy, right? But yeah, she was... Right, I was too intelligent to waste my time composing. So I crossed out “Composer” from my careers list and never thought of it again.  From that time to when I was 16/17, I was desperate to find ‘that’ career, the one that would suit me like a ring. “What career could mix the arts with the “hard sciences”? Does something like... Sound Engineering exist?” and then I googled ‘Ingeniería de Sonido’ (Sound Engineering) and I found out that the career was only taught at Untref, 2 hours away from where I live, out of all the places Argentina has to offer. (If you want to know, yes, I have 4 hours of daily commuting, without counting the less extreme commuting to my music conservatory which is 20 minutes away with a lot of traffic). Studying Sound Engineering at Untref does not equal to graduating as a producer, nor a record engineer. Of course you can work in those fields, but to put it bluntly, as many professors say, you would kind of be wasting your degree; you would be more in the side of submitting papers and working with huge acoustic solutions companies than recording an album in a studio. So, at first, my mother thought it had to do with, you know, the music industry: “(The university) It’s too far away!”, “I don’t want you to study this!”, “It’s full of boys, you will feel bored”, “Remember, you could be a neurosurgeon”. But I really wanted it, and I won the battle: I got inscripted, I passed the exams, I got into the career. When I chose the career (16 years old), I was pretty much disencouraged from following a career in music. I felt mediocre, despite what my double bass teacher expressed to me (”I don’t think you should follow another career, you have all of the potential to be a professional double bassist”, he said to me. He even recently told me to substitute him in the Bass Department when he retires). I felt too old, too intelligent and too much into academia to follow a music career. “I don’t even practice 4 hours a day”. Why? Because I had to stand out at school. Because that was “a priority”, in the words of my mother. So I was prepared to leave music behind and be the best sound engineer in the scene. Too bad I was...  Severely depressed. And I failed, and failed, and failed... Course after course. I wanted a gun or a million pills so bad, I wanted it all to fade away. It was in the mid-term of 2017 that I noticed I was doing horribly, emotionally and psychologically. I couldn’t get out of bed, I had zero ability to focus, I lived off coffee and I had lots of emotional revolts. I needed help. I told my mother about this, and she didn’t take it well. “I give you everything and yet you feel like this”, “You’re just lazy”, “What you have isn’t depression, you just want attention”. She refused to pay for the therapy sessions, so I basically had to use all of my savings and the money I gained from giving lessons (It’s been years I want to buy a bow for my bass. Once I had to lend her 4000 Argentinian pesos I had saved throughout time, which is a lot, and she never gave them back to me, and never will, unless she buys me a bow or something). My therapist used to be my Psychology professor at school, and I knew he was the only one who could work with my mind at that stage, and really help me. I eagerly payed him until I had zero money of my own, and I told him I would have to stop the treatment. He appreciates me a lot as much as I do with him, and he offered me to keep attending the sessions paying half of what it was. I’m forever grateful and I promised to myself I will give him every cent back once I start to save more money. Still, I had to cut the treatment 3 or 4 months later (2018 mid-term), because it was my mother this time who was paying it, and whenever she had to give me the money, she tried to oblige me to stop going, or told me “You aren’t depressed anymore so why are you wasting your time going to the therapist, I cannot pay for it”. She loves to tell people with a smile that going to a therapist is useful and a wonderful thing to do, when in reality, she treated her daughter like actual shit for being depressed. She was the one who kept on sending me to a school where people bullied me for 11 years. She was the one who would made me feel bad about having a 7/10 or an 8/10 on an exam from time to time. She was the one who told me to ‘make myself strong’ instead of taking action to come to a solution. The thing is that, to this day, I still have some of the symptoms or habits: I break down mentally from one second to another (the trigger is usually her, or career choices, or body insecurities), I engage in suicide ideation, sometimes I hit myself, I fast, I cry myself to sleep, I procrastinate heavily on the Internet out of anxiety or I want to isolate myself and terminate any link with humanity. It’s not like I’m not depressed anymore. These symptoms come and go, but they aren’t completely gone. I was also diagnosed with anaemia last year. It isn’t that terrible in the sense that I’m not going to die, but it definitely made me extremely tired and dissociative (depression+anaemia=failing classes). 

In early 2018, I had told my mother I was unsure about my career decision. Sound Engineering is an amazing field, but leaving music as a hobbie wasn’t really in my plans (having gained some of the confidence I had lost when I was 16, as previously mentioned). I was asking myself: “What if the only thing that stopped me from becoming a professional musician was fear?”. The fear to dare do something my mother didn’t approve of. The fear of economic instability, competition... What if I really starve myself to death in the music industry? What if I cannot offer anything good as an artist? What if it really is a waste of my intellectual abilities? What if... As soon as I demonstrated this (filtered, of course) uncertainty to her, she became a monster. She was angered, her voice’s volume slightly up, and her eyes... It’s the eyes. The way she looks at you when she’s angry or in disapproval. I’ve feared them since childhood. This also happened one time I told her I could maybe be biromantic or bisexual. I was 15 or 16, and I liked a girl I knew from the Internet. That was all, nothing serious, but even though I have always felt attracted to men, and my main crushes were men, I knew since I was little I had the capacity within me to love anyone from any gender. To me, love just is, even just trying to label myself ‘I’m this, I’m that’ is something I’m deeply uninterested in. That day, I remember, she left me ith doubts and hatred towards myself: “How could I possibly like a girl? I’ve always liked boys, there’s no way”. The same effect had the conversation about my uncertainty in terms of career choices. “How could I possibly be a musician? I’m destined to be an engineer. I’ve always liked science. I’ve always wanted economic stability. I want to live well. There’s no way I could possibly be a musician”. 

When I started university, I made wonderful friends. And of course, we talk to each other whenever we can. There was one occasion I mentioned during a conversation how my mother tracked me by GPS. One of my friends found this terrible. I also mentioned that not only she tracked me, she also kept asking me to message her where were I: “At [bus number]”, “Uni”, “Subway”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. There was one time I was in a Calculus class and I saw she was calling me (fortunately I always have my phone silent, something she hates). I had to go out and talk to her. She had been using the GPS and she couldn’t stop the panic button. According to the GPS’ map, I was somewhere else (this glitch happened quite a few times) and because I forgot to send her the “Uni” text informing her that I, in fact, had arrived at university, she was extremely worried. She listened to my friends’ voices and became calm. 

Another thing she does is waking me up when she wants to. If I don’t, she becomes very angry. When does she wake me up now, in vacations time? 8 or 9 AM. That’s already too late for her. What does she do? Come up to my bedroom and all of a sudden, open the door, threatening me with something if I don’t wake up. Or telling me I HAVE to go buy something for her work by 10 AM because she has forgotten to do so. That’s not the worst, she recently got to the stairs (the stairs that take you to the second floor, which are located above my bedroom’s ceiling) and she started DANCING making a lot of unnerving noise. 

Sometimes I don’t want to eat and she would come up to me and tell me “You are not going to eat? Okay, I’ll take you to the psych guards and let you there”. Oh, and she’s used to taking photos of me and sending them to people knowing that I’m extremely self-conscious and that that could cause me an emotional turmoil.

In September 2018 I started dating the love of my life. Unfortunately, as much as I want to keep an upbeat predisposition, my mother has been a topic of discussion and an obstacle to my general well-being in this realm as well. Again, how can someone be completely happy when they are temporally and physically restricted by someone else? Going out with my boyfriend and spending quality time with him is definitely one of my most favourite activities. But again, there she is: “Let me know when you find him”, “Tell me when you’ve arrived to the place”, “I don’t want you two to be alone”, “Don’t be back late” (late to her is 9 PM), “Solange, when are you coming back home???”. At first I didn’t notice the chains were so heavy. But after various events and discussing this with my boyfriend, they really are. For example, she would prevent me from going to a party or going out for dinner with him “because it’s too late”. I recently tried to let her see that the dangers of the city are inevitable, and that I’m already a grownup adult who has the right to make her own decisions (and of course, I will provide myself of safety as much as possible). With her logic in mind, I practically can’t get out of my house. As usual, she tried to make me feel as if I was the irrational one. Her arguments are: “I’m the one who provides you of housing and basic resources (so she’s the authority in here)”, “If something happens to you, I’m responsible”, “You never help me in the house and you DARE do the opposite of what I tell you to do”, “I’ve been working all day and you went out and had a great time so you can’t say anything to me”. Her gaslighting me makes me doubt if maybe I’m wrong and I have to play by her rules. In the past I would rather had her in my side, but now more than ever I’m totally certain that it is my life that’s at risk, and that as an adult, my rights to choose cannot be prohibited nor taken away from me.

I would like to know what do you guys think of this, and any help in the form of advice, observations, arguments and ideas on independence will be very much appreciated. If you happen to have controlling, abusing or toxic parents and would like to discuss about it, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.

[dearlazerbunny]

First Snapshots

Parings: Poe x Reader

Genre/Rating: Photographer!Poe; T for some kissing

Words: 2700

Summary: Requested by a very special follower who wanted photographer Poe with a history of some unfortunate romance escapades...

You do one final hair check in the mirror before pulling on your shoes. Your agent said they wanted a freestyle bohemian look, so you layer on the necklaces before curling your hair into loose waves and adding a dewy touch to your makeup. This was one of your only jobs in weeks, and you needed the money, so you were hoping for a tip from the magazine that had requested the shoot if you fit what they wanted. Modeling is fickle, but it’s quick cash and you’ve got rent to pay.

The photographer is supposed to meet you downtown near a fountain. From the looks of the empty plaza there’s no sign of him yet, so you sit on the edge of the basin and scroll through your phone, hair falling out from behind your ear. A few more emails from your agent, promising work soon, a few texts from your friends reminding you of a birthday party tonight.  Nothing major. You pull out your cheeks and blow it out, frustrated. You’d hoped there’d be something more concrete than just promises, but it didn’t look like things were going to go in your favor.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” You look up into the flaring sun to see the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life, a camera hanging around his neck. Tanned skin, dark curly hair, and warm brown eyes smile down at you while he holds out his hand for you to shake. Well goddamn. Maybe this would be a fun afternoon after all.

“Yes, that’s me.” You take his hand and shake it, and you can’t help but admire his strong grip. “You’re Poe Dameron, I take it?”

“At your service. I’m assuming the magazine gave you the details, but just to be sure, let’s go over the memo…” He pulls out a printed sheet from his pocket and leans in close so you can both see the instructions. Nothing fancy, just some ‘candid’ shots for a brief essay on the season’s trends. “You look perfect,” he continues, looking over your outfit and nodding in approval. “So if you want to just start on the fountain, we’ll get started.”

You nod and sit back down, crossing your legs. Sadly, he seems to be all business. But maybe you could break him out of his shell before the shoot was over.

You pose for about an hour before he stops snapping photos, checking the shots he’s already taken. “These look pretty good.” He sighs, then looks up at you. “Want to see?”

You nod and once again lean in close, only to find something that absolutely shocks you. You thought you were used to seeing yourself on camera, but this guy has captured you in a way no one else has. The sunlight gleams off your hair and skin, making you look practically golden, while also sparkling off the water in a dazzling array of light. The colors are perfectly balanced, making you pop off the background, and he’s seemed to reflect something in your eyes you’ve never seen before- something pensive, yet wonderstruck. You look downright stunning, and you’re practically speechless.

“Holy shit, these are amazing!” You step back and study him- Poe- more closely. “You have a real talent for this.”

He smiles and shrugs, obviously pleased with the compliment. “Nah, I just have an eye for what’s beautiful. Ain’t no thing.”

You blush slightly at the remark. “Do you think the magazine will be happy with them?”

“I mean, it’s definitely what they wanted.” He holds the camera out from his chest and cocks his head, like he’s trying to get a new angle. “They just seem a little…”

Uh oh. “What?”

“Uh… boring, maybe?” You’re a little stricken, and when he sees your face he quickly backtracks. “No, no, not like it’s you or anything. They just don’t seem to have much of an imagination when it comes to what you can do with someone.”

Interesting. “Well, what were you thinking?”

He looks up, surprised, like no one’s asked him his opinion before. “Well…” he takes a step back and surveys the area with fresh eyes. “What if you got in the fountain?”

“In the fountain? Like, in the water?”

He has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but shakes his head. “Yeah, this is why no one ever asks for my opinion. We’ll stick with what we got.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I kind of love it.” No one had ever asked you anything remotely similar, and the change of pace was refreshing.

“Really?” He seems to appraise you in a new light. “Well, if you want to try it, I’m game.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s get this party started.” He chuckles as you shuck off your shoes and step into the cool water, feeling it bubble around your toes. “Where do you want me?”

“Um, maybe step behind the stream of water? Yeah, there. Let’s try that.” He kneels and puts the viewfinder up to his eye and begins snapping away.

You level your gaze at the camera through the shoots of water and lose yourself in the dance of clicks and poses and redirection. He’s an awesome director, telling you exactly what you need to do to get the perfect angle. By the time you’re done, you’re both smiling from ear to ear.

“These look fantastic!” He shoves the camera in your face excitedly and you laugh, taking it from his hands and thumbing through the images. Your image refracted through the water makes for a visually stunning piece, more a work of art than anything else.

“These are incredible. I told you you were good.” You wink as you hand his equipment back to him, and now it’s his turn to blush. “No denying it now.”  

“Well, you take direction well. It’s a team effort.” He grabs his camera bag and detaches his lens, putting it into the padded case. “I don’t think I can submit these to the magazine, but they’d be great in a portfolio. Do you want copies?”

“Absolutely. Let me just-” you pull out your phone and hold it out to him. “Here. Trade.”

He takes it an inputs his number, and you do the same in his phone, putting a picture emoji next to your name. You smile when you see he put a camera emoji next to his as you save it into your contacts.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” He smiles at you and shakes your hand once again.

“Likewise. Looking forward to working with you in the future.”

For some reason you can’t stop smiling as you head in the direction of home.

…

It turns out the birthday party is at a bar just around the corner, so you quickly change out of the jeans that are wet at the cuffs into a little black dress and make your way downtown. Rey isn’t the closest of friends, but she was kind enough to invite you, so what the hell? Go, buy her a drink, maybe meet some new people. Could be fun.

The bar is crowded and lively, with a guitarist tucked into one corner and a kitschy collection of tables and chairs scattering the floor. Eclectic, just like Rey. You could see why she liked the place.

“Y/N!” Rey comes bounding over from her place at the head of a table and throws her arms around you. You laugh and return the hug. Maybe you were better friends than you thought. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“What, and miss your 25th? Not a chance.”

She grins and fixes the tacky happy birthday tiara affixed to her head. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight! There’s music, the drinks are good, and-” she leans in conspiratorially- “there’s someone I want you to meet!”

Uh oh. You’re suddenly remembering your issue with Rey- she has a nasty habit of playing matchmaker. Your last breakup was years ago, but let’s just say it didn’t end well. Rey is always trying to get you back on the market, but you highly doubt your heart is ready for that.

“No, really, that’s okay Rey, I want tonight to be about you-”

“Oh, hush. It’s been what, two years? You need to get back out there!” She glances behind your shoulder and grins. “Here he comes! Look surprised when I introduce you, okay?”

“I-” she spins you around and you find yourself face to face with a very surprised- and very well dressed- Poe Dameron. “Poe?’

“Y/N.” He smiles, and you find yourself automatically smiling back. “Now here’s a surprise.”

“Wait.” Rey is looking back and forth between the two of you so fast you’re afraid she might get whiplash. “You two already know each other?”

“Briefly.”

“Well that’s no fun. Ugh, I need another drink.” She flounces away, an obvious pout on her lips.

“What was that all about?”

You turn back to the photographer. “I… think she was planning on playing matchmaker.”

“With us?” He raises a clearly amused eyebrow in the direction of the birthday queen. “Well, there have definitely been worse choices.”

You laugh. “I take it she’s played this game with you before?”

“Oh so many times.” He grins. “You’re the only one I’ve liked, though.”

“Oh, hush, we barely know each other.”

“Better than a blind date. Buy you a drink?”

Okay, he was definitely flirting. But the thing is, you don’t think you mind. “I could be convinced.”

After grabbing a couple of beers you occupy a small two-seater near enough to the party, but out of earshot of the general crowd. “So why’s Rey playing matchmaker with you? Can’t imagine a girl like you being single.”

God, these compliments were going to be the death of you. “I’m not dating anyone, actually. It’s- well. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

For some reason, you really feel like you can trust him. So you take a deep breath and say, “long story short? I was in way over my head. Got cheated on. Got dumped when I thought he was proposing. The whole rom-com shebang.”

“Damn.” He takes a long pull from his bottle. “I’d laugh if it weren’t so familiar.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No shit?”

“I proposed, she said no and promptly broke up with me a day later.”

“Jesus. What’s wrong with us? You’re hot as fuck, who in their right mind would turn you down?” Oh god, what is in this drink? Did that seriously just come out of your mouth?

Luckily he seems to find it funny. “I could say the same for you. You’re a literal model, after all.”

“And you’re the one who makes me look good.”

“Touché.” He holds his bottle up and you clink with it. “To us, the great dating fuck ups.”

Maybe tonight would be more fun than you thought.

You spent the entire part effectively ignoring the rest of the party and just getting to know each other. You talk, you laugh, you trade sappy sob stories, and by the end of the night you’re practically swooning. All thoughts of your prior relationship fly out of your head as you stare at this gorgeous man who was practically dropped into your lap.

So, when you’re walking out of the bar after the party, you are the biggest mistake of your life.

You kiss him.

He calls you a cab, and while you’re standing there waiting, the banter continues, filling you with lighthearted goodness that’s making your heart overflow. So when the car pulls up, you make a split second decision and press a kiss to his lips, right there on the street.

At first, he seems to enjoy himself. An arm slips around your waist and pulls you flush, and you can feel a smile against you own lips as he deepens the kiss just a hint. You can taste the sweetness of alcohol on his breath, making him all the more enticing.

But all of a sudden, he abruptly cuts you off. Steps back from you, leaving you shivering in the night air. He’s got a weird look on his face that you can’t quite identify, but it definitely wasn’t anything good.

“Poe? Was that… was that not okay…?”

He doesn’t respond. Just shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and starts walking. It doesn’t seem to matter in which direction, as long as it’s away from you.

So with a sinking feeling in your chest, you simply get in the cab, and drive away.

…

You can’t stop thinking about him.

In the days following the party, he doesn’t contact you, and you don’t dare reach out to him. So you’re left in a perpetual state of anxiety, wondering where you went wrong. Maybe that kiss had been too rash, too sudden. Maybe you had read the signals all wrong. In any case, you’ve blown it completely, and you can kiss that wonderful footnote of your life goodbye.

Fate, as it would seem, has a different idea.

“Y/N! I’ve got a great project lined up for you. It’s at 5:00 today, so get your ass in gear, got it?” The commanding tones of your agent rings through the apartment as you reluctantly follow her advice. “You’ve even worked with the photographer before, so it’ll be fun, right? Right. Here are the details…”

You half listen to her instructions and pull an outfit out of your closet, but your mind is focused on one thing- the fact that you knew the photographer. Please don’t let it be…

Him.

There he is, in all his glory, with his camera once again around his neck. You’re in the same park, back where it all began, and you can’t help but think of how ironic that is now that you’ve never felt more distant from the man behind the camera.

He barely speaks to you throughout the entire shoot, only giving you a few terse words of direction. You comply, unhappily, trying to keep a neutral face even though your insides are turmoil. Do you say something? Say nothing? Just let him walk away, never to be heard from again?

No. You couldn’t do that. Not when you’d gotten together so well.

“Hey. Can we talk?”

“What’s up?” He’s thumbing through the photos on his camera, not even looking at you, which makes you cringe internally.

“I just… wanted to apologize. I realize I must have read the situation wrong, and put you in an awkward position, and… yeah. I’m sorry.”

He’s staring at you with the same odd expression, but that’s all you have to say. So you nod goodbye and begin walking up the bath back to the entrance of the park, happy you at least could try to put things to right.

“Wait. Y/N?”

You stop, half hopeful, half dreading what he has to say. “I… you don’t have anything to be sorry for. You didn’t read anything wrong. I just…” he sighs, and runs a hand through his curly hair. “I was caught off guard.”

“Makes sense. I didn’t really give you any warning.” You chuckle nervously, kicking a rock on the ground back in the direction of the grass.

“It’s just… when I kissed you- I haven’t felt like that since. Well. You know.”

Oh. Oh, wow. “Really?” He hadn’t told you the name of his not-quite fiancée, but knowing how he felt about her, that was… big.

“Really. And it scared me. Because the last time I felt like that. Didn’t go so well.”

That makes you crack a smile. “Yeah. I know how that feels.”

“I know you do.” His smile feels like the sun coming out. “I don’t want to let you go so soon. I think we have something here. But I just don’t know if I’m ready to jump in to….well.”

Your heart sinks. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

His little half grin is going to be the death of you. “Agree to take things slow. And… maybe kiss me again. That was pretty convincing.”

“That, I think I can do.” You step in close and press a simple peck to his mouth, smiling the whole time. “And slow is more than fine with me.”

“Good.” He swoops you into another kiss, holding out his camera selfie-style and snapping a photon, making you laugh. Grinning, he shows you the result. “First of many.”

[declassifieducdsurvivalguid-blog]

Advice on Internships

”I am a second year Commerce student and I am applying to different Internship Programmes. Do you have any advice on internships so I can make the most of this experience?”

I consider myself extremely lucky to have had the opportunity to gain internship experience within my time at University. Completing an internship was something that never appealed to me as the idea of working for free and giving up my chance to go travelling in the Summer didn’t entice me. I am often surrounded by people who strive after internships in order to get a foot into the industry they plan on going into post university, therefore my opinion on gaining internship experience has drastically changed since before I started university. 

The Internship Programme within Commerce was something I often contemplated. I was horrendous with numbers and after failing Financial Accounting 1 in first year and forfeiting the chance to study abroad, I knew my chance of an internship was highly unlikely. Applications came around and I thought maybe I should just apply and see what happens. I had secured three D grades in semester one of second year along with my pass for my Financial Accounting 1 repeat. My GPA was far from impressive, but I was bloody chuffed. I avoided all internship applications that required me to submit my grades. Most of the internships on offer were for one of the big 4 accounting firms which I immediately avoided as I knew I would not have survived and could potentially have put any company I audited into liquidation… it happens. I think it’s fair to say I am the furthest thing from a model student. After many hefty application processes, I was offered an internship on the sales team with Siemens Gamesa Renewable Energy Ltd. I did not know a thing about sales or renewable energy, all I knew is that I did not want to be out in the big bad world after three years at college so this option suited me perfectly. I was genuinely terrified of the work that would be expected of me and the amount of excel sheets that would be thrown my way. (I got a G grade on my first excel exam in first year of Commerce, so we’ll just let that sit right there) I am extremely grateful to have gained so much experience in the corporate world before I have even left college. I often love to share my advice on getting the most from your internship as I am someone who is not extremely academic which is something a lot of people worry about. There are plenty of different Internship Progammes to choose from and so many benefits of the  internship experience people are not aware of. Below I have outlined 5 pieces of advice to help you  make the most of your internship experience 

ANALYSE THE COMPANY CULTURE

Spend the first few weeks getting to know everyone on the team and getting a feel of the group dynamics and how your team work. It is then essential to adapt your behaviour and how you approach your day to day tasks to how your team works.

ALWAYS ASK FOR HELP IF NEEDED

This is something a lot of people are very scared to do. When you begin  your internship you are not expected to be able to know how to do any part of the job, therefore you will have to learn. Asking for help demonstrates confidence and modesty. Your managers and colleagues will be grateful that you want to learn and it also saves a lot of hassle in the long run when your managers do not have to spend time correcting a mistake of yours. 

BE ENTHUSIASTIC!!

Being an intern can be quite boring. You will be given the tasks no one in the office ever wants to have to do. However, always offer your assistance with a smile on your face and people will begin to appreciate you. Having a positive attitude to your work once again demonstrates that you are willing to learn and just how diligent you are.

USE YOUR VOICE

If you have an opinion on something and think it will really help positively then don’t’ be afraid to say it. Even though you’re an intern, you’re still as much a part of the team as anyone else and your advice could be extremely useful. This will also boost your confidence and if you can suggest a useful idea to the team then you have nothing to lose. 

TAKE INITIATIVE

When given a task to do, trust is being put in you and you are most likely seen as capable enough to carry out the task. If there is a deadline looming and no one seems to be working towards this deadline, offer your assistance. Once again this will demonstrate your enthusiasm. 

JUST REMEMBER

Nothing is too ambitious. You will find yourself in the most wonderful situations purely by putting yourself out there. With a bit of determination and self-belief you will get to exactly where you want to be.

Below are links to some websites where you can find student internship opportunities:

UCD Career Development Centre

Indeed

Student Jobs

[kidneyplate4]

Picking the Ultimate Social Media App for Everyone

It is certainly fascinating to discover a young adult's opinion on the popularity of each unique social application. Provides a distinct meaning from the information associated with each application use and how is being used daily. The following report does not reduce the goal of every social media app, only shows a particular perspective, an adolescent daily use tutorial, should you will. I think the correct way to approach this might be to split by social media and the observations and viewpoints I've amassed over the years. Facebook In a nutshell, Facebook is outdated for almost all adolescents. Facebook is a thing we all got in school since it was cool but now sometimes appears seeing that a clumsy family social gathering we can not actually leave. It's weird and may even be annoying to have Facebook sometimes. That said, unless you have Facebook, that is a lot more strange and annoying. Weird due to the interpersonal pressure and irritating because you need to response that to just about everyone in classes you meet who makes an attempt to be your friend or discover you on there. Facebook is typically used by us primarily for its group features. I know a lot of classmates who only continue Facebook to check on the groups they may be part of and then promptly sign off. In this component Facebook stands out-groups don't have the same advanced rules in it that the news feed does. It's very easy to simply see the fresh information posted within the group without having to sift through a great deal of posts and advertising you don't really care about. Messaging on Facebook can be popular among our age group, mainly because they offer the means to speak with those people who you are not really comfortable with requesting their amount but comfy enough to send out them a pal request. Facebook is usually the jumping-off point for many individuals to try to look for you online, due to the fact everyone around us has it. Whenever I met you one time at some party, I'm not going to make an effort to check Twitter to learn who you are. Preferably, many choose the ease of Facebook as well as the highly effective search function that gives you results of people who you truly have a chance of knowing (unlike Twitter, whose search efficiency, although it improved somewhat within the last update, leaves very much to become desired). Snapchat Snapchat is in a short time turning into the most utilized social app, especially with the development of adding your Snaps to a history feed.

In the event that I can breakdown a party for you in social networking conditions, here's how it would pan out: You upload yourself getting ready for the party, going to the party, having fun in the special event, leaving by the end of the special event, and waking up in the morning after the party on Snapchat. On Facebook you put up the pretty, posed photos you took with your friends in the party (definitely zero alcoholic beverages in these pics). On Instagram you choose the best looking among the collection to share to your network. Snapchat is where we can really be ourselves while being mounted on our social identification. Without the constant interpersonal pressure of the follower count number or Facebook friends, I am not really constantly having these random people shoved before me. Instead, Snapchat is certainly a somewhat close network of friends who I don't care if they find me at a celebration having fun. On no other social media (besides Twitter possibly) it is acceptable post a bored picture besides Snapchat. Generally there aren't likes you must be concerned about or comments, it is all taken away. Snapchat includes a great deal less social pressure mounted on it compared to almost every other popular social media marketing network out presently there. This is exactly what makes it therefore addicting and free. If I don't get any likes on my Instagram photo or Facebook post within 10 minutes, I'll erase it. Snapchat isn't like that in any way and really focuses on creating the Story of a day in your daily life, not some filtered, altered, handpicked showcase. It is the true you. One other quick apart about Snapchat, I only know a handful of people (myself included) that believe that Snapchat does eliminate your shots. Everybody else I understand thinks that Snapchat has some secret database someplace with all of your pics in it. While I will save that controversy for a later date, it is safe to say that when images are released or every time there is controversy about security on the application, we truthfully usually do not really mind. We aren't mailing photos of our store cards here; we are sending selfies and photos with us having 5 chins. Twitter To be honest, a lot of us just do not understand the idea of Twitter. There is always a core clique at every school that uses it extremely frequently to tweet and another clique that works with it to merely watch or retweet, but besides that many don't use it. It also isn't exceptionally easy to find friends on the site and many simply use it to complain about college in a environment where their parents or family (not necessarily bosses) tend to not discover it. Twitter is a location to follow or be followed by a couple of arbitrary strangers, yet still have got your identity end up being attached to this, this difference will be valuable later on on. Your tweets are also very easily searchable on Twitter which is great but not great if you wish to be yourself and not own it follow you around when you're trying to land a job. Therefore, to others Twitter is used like Facebook, users post with the assumption that your employer will discover it at some point. You will find then 3 main groups of Twitter users: the types who utilize it to whine and express themselves, the types who tweet using the assumption that the would-be employer will ultimately see anything they say, and those who just take a look at other Tweets and do the occasional retweet. Instagram Instagram is the most used social networking app outlet for young adults. Please note the verbiage there, it's the most used social website application venue. Meaning, even though many people are on Facebook, we actually share more on Instagram. It obviously is captivating if you ask me to see a friend with 1500 close friends on Facebook only get twenty six wants on a photo but on Instagram (where she has 800 fans) she draws 287. I have a couple of hints as to the motives this may show up. I'm not really terrified whenever I like something on Instagram that it'll show up in somebody's news feed and they'll possibly screenshot which i liked it or guide it later on. And the same applies to writing comments. I am much less pressured to check out another person back on Instagram, meaning that my feed is quite often composed of articles I really need to look at. That being said, I will go back and browse through an application which has articles I fancy rather than one where I need to look for the casual gem in wait. This type of articles on Instagram is in most cases of improved value. Users make time to change their images with filters, employ varied brightness and contrast configurations (it is also one of the measures to posting an image), etcetera., to make the images appear the very best they are able to. That suggests that the content material published on Instagram is generally better (photography-wise), therefore i am more likely to return to the application. Instagram hasn't been inundated with the older generation yet (not everybody owns an Instagram account) which means its fresh and fascinating to younger masses. However, it is popular enough that if you have a smart phone it's almost unheard of for you personally not to have Instagram, if not to take pictures, but to at least label people in photographs. One additional point: tagging. I need not continuously examine Instagram to be sure I wasn't tagged in any awkward or negative shots. That is because you cannot easily identify any of them inside your feed, designing the complete experience seem way more private. Am I looking weird in a photography you submitted? So what?. I can just eliminate the label if I really am that annoyed about any of it without fear that my close friends from another social circle (who no longer follow you) are certain to get to it first. I know Facebook has the power to let you check every single photo labeled of you just before it shows up on your own profile, but some individuals I understand don't have that enabled or understand it actually exists. Users usually do not publish thousands of times a day on Instagram. Lots of people are much more polite about posting, either doing once a day, several times weekly, etc. Which means that there isn't a frequent supply of content being shoved down my throat each and every time I open the app, and it is possible to become swept up with my Instagram newsfeed. There are no links on Instagram, which means I'm not really being continuously spammed by the same advertisement, horrific gossip updates, or Buzzfeed article about the "31 Clever Accessories for Your Puppy You Had No Clue You Wanted". Those are a handful of points why a lot of folks my age are inclined to use Instagram a lot more than they are doing Facebook. Everything about the application makes it much less commercial and more devoted to this content, resulting in more teenagers are inclined to check it out. Once we do check out the software, it is a more relaxing experience so we are more willing to Like and connect to the threads more. This increases our interaction with the app, so we will use it even more. Facebook keeps every single one of the photos we shot, the great one, and the nasty one, whilst Instagram just gets the one that undoubtedly summed up the event we went to. It is much more picky, and honestly users spend additional time over the captions to create them focused or witty. In Facebook we simply provide all sorts of things we got so people can tag one another and show our family and friends that we are still aboveground. Many of those younger than me (10-17 years of age) who I have spoken to concerning this subject don't have even a Facebook account. Instagram is all that they require. The Ok Ones Here are other social networking that some teens employ still that may not actually call for a full length talk. LinkedIn: We will need to get it, so we acquired it. Many people wait until college to understand this (because they probably should, it isn't because of this demographic anyhow). Pinterest: It's predominantly women-centric and is for those who have an artsy or folksy concentrate. Not too many users talk about it. Kik: It's a messaging software that is generally utilized for texting people in Twitter, I guess? I have no idea any person who uses this kind of application. WhatsApp: You will download it when you are out of the country, you use it there for a bit before going back to Facebook Messenger or iMessage, then you eliminate it. I know plenty of people who utilize it to communicate with close friends they found in other parts of the world, but Personally i think like Messenger is normally beginning to overshadow it. For international college students, however, WhatsApp can be a pivotal device that I've heard is truly useful. GroupMe: Quite simply the most utilized group messaging program in university. Nearly everybody has one, would make use of it and loves it. GIF support, the ability to like others messages, even superficial stuff such as having the ability to switch your name between group talks all make this both a useful and delightful application. GroupMe also functions for literally any phone or system like a home pc, iPhone, Android, and should function over text aswell for individuals who may not possess a mobile phone.

[andveryginger]

SWTOR Fic: On the Table

Summary: The cards are on the table. Now Tabarin and Saganu must decide how to play them in the aftermath of Copero. (IA x Saganu; Adela x Saganu)

Note: Copero spoilers. Not entirely sure this is headcanon, but certainly leans that way, provided future updates don’t screw it over too badly. Draws on the headcanon established in “Unfinished Business,” over on AO3.

Adela is a non-Commander IA here, though she clearly took the mission to Copero for obvious reasons.

Posted hot off the presses, so without beta and minimal editing. If you see something too glaring, tag me.

Night settled over Csaplar as Aristocra Tabarin, House Nuruodo, returned to his apartments, unwrapping the white and bronze cloak from his shoulders, even as the door slid closed behind him. His staff dismissed for the evening, he placed it on the nearby hook himself, turning down the corridor toward his study. He took a deep breath. What was that aroma, he wondered. His brow furrowed. Was that… caf?

The aroma grew stronger as he approached the study, and a soft strain of music could finally be heard, filtering through the playback system. It was Human music -- unique arrangements with percussion and stringed instruments as the primary focus. Slow tempo, the strings wailed an almost mournful tune, percussion soft behind it, keeping time. He knew before entering that he would find his cousin, Aristocra Saganu, House Miurani, there.

Seated at the worktable, the younger Aristocra held a datapad in his left hand, others scattered across the surface. His attention, however, was focussed on the steaming cup of caf in his right as it rested on the table. The corners of his mouth were turned down, brow creased as he stared at the dark liquid. He gave a slight start as Tabarin entered, moving to rise. “Cousin…”

Tabarin shook his head, waving his hand to indicate his cousin could remain seated. He then joined him at the table, idly glancing at the datapads. The one closest to him contained an after action report submitted from Lieutenant Raina Temple, Chiss Expansionary Defense Force. Next to it, a report forwarded from the former Imperial intelligence agent now serving as an Alliance Intelligence operative, Adela Emrys.

He eyed his cousin, allowing a slight glint to his gaze as he did so. “The Council was most impressed with Commander Emrys’ understanding of our political machinations,” he said finally. “I led them to believe she had been coached by yourself and Lieutenant Temple, in route to Copero. But I reviewed the surveillance videos. She didn’t hesitate; didn’t question. She knew exactly what had to be done.”

Saganu narrowed his eyes briefly at Tabarin, a question unspoken. “I’ve said before that she is an exceedingly quick study.”

Tabarin reached, picking up the datapad containing the Alliance report, scrolling through it absently. “It saved you from tribunal,” he continued. “It also gave us a united, external focus, delaying -- if not halting -- a potential political war among the Ascendancy.” He paused, pursing his lips. “They are actions worthy of merit adoptive status to your house or mine.”

“But given that she is the external focus,” the junior Aristocra replied, “you dare not offer her such status while she is currently -- what is the Imperial term? Persona non grata, I believe.”

“You could have offered her such years ago… yet you didn’t.”

“It is… complicated.” Saganu drew a deep breath, exhaling heavily. His eyes diverted to his caf. “I could not offer her a place in my house for reasons I cannot discuss. It was my hope that she would gain your favor.”

“Yes, I suppose it might have created quite the stir, choosing one of your own merit adoptives as your consort,” Tabarin said. He regarded his cousin with an arched brow. “It might cause the Council to question your motives in doing so. Much better to allow me to take her into my house and then make a show of courting her.”

“Cousin --”

The senior Aristocra held up a hand to silence Saganu. “There’s no need for further deception, Cousin,” he said. “I know. I’ve known since the beginning.”

Saganu sat back in his chair and took a long draw of his caf, watching Tabarin over the rim of the cup. Lowering it, he gave a rueful half-smile. “How?”

“An anonymous tip had me following you all the way to Zeltros.” Tabarin placed the datapad back onto the table. “I must admit the first three days were exceedingly boring. When she first walked into that cantina that night, and you followed, I thought, perhaps, this was a curiosity -- something to explore and get out of the system.” He sighed. “And then I realized it had been over eighteen months since you had last seen her; that you had planned everything to the last detail. I knew then that she was more than a curiosity.”

Lacing his fingers together at his waist, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, he regarded Saganu. “You go out of your way to work with her, to stay with her, first on that soggy rock, and then Odessen. Very logical, yes, but nothing wrong with pairing a little pleasure with business, hm? And Tasconu -- the way he defers to her? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

A long moment of silence followed during which Tabarin could almost see the contemplation rolling through his cousin’s mind. Finally, he asked, “Does Santasi know?”

Tabarin shook his head. “He suspects. I’ve ensured that he’s been unable to confirm said suspicions,” he replied, “though it helps that you’ve been largely discreet.”

“I have attempted to be so.” Saganu drained the last of his caf, placing the empty cup onto the table. He then looked to his cousin with a serious expression. “We… have exchanged vows, Cousin.”

“Ktah.” The senior Aristocra clenched his hands to fists in frustration before dropping them to strike the arms of the chair. His fingers splayed and he gesticulated as the emotion sought an outlet. “Always the risk taker, aren’t you?”

“It was one aspect of our relationship that was not planned,” his cousin answered. If he was taken aback by the exclamation, it did not show. “A very… organic… development, as it continued.”

“Yet now, after her actions on Copero -- despite them being of significant benefit to the Ascendancy, I cannot welcome her into House Nuruodo anytime soon.” Tabarin sighed, the exhale long and slow, almost a growl. “And you will be watched like a hawk for the near future -- by Inrokini, especially. They’ll be looking for any reason -- ”

“I am aware, Cousin.”

Each word was clearly enunciated, jaw tense, and Tabarin blinked. It the first time in many years he had heard such emotion from the younger Chiss. Anger and frustration flashed in the familiar red eyes, and he could see the tension coiling in his frame. “She has taken steps I, myself, would not have taken -- steps well beyond her own ethics -- and she has taken them for me,” he declared. “And now I cannot offer an alliance, much less the comfort of my company as her right and proper mate.”

He pushed himself out of the chair, stalking to the window opposite the table. Tabarin watched him in the reflection, noting the way in which his jaw worked, prominence at his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “My duty to the Ascendancy requires my presence and continued patience, while my duty to my En’von’ot practically demands my exile.” His attention dropped to the lower portion of the window frame before looking back up to the freezing night beyond. “I know that the Ascendancy must come first, but I find myself unable to make that choice.”

The ranking Aristocra sat, observing -- thinking -- as the silence stretched between them, a frown distorting his features. It was, indeed, an untenable situation. For himself, his cousin, all Chiss -- the Ascendancy must come first, with Houses and Family a very closely-connected second and third; personal pursuits were not considered. His cousin’s affair with Adela Emrys was an intensely personal pursuit that had slowly morphed to one of House and Family. He had made himself complicit with his silence, that night on Zeltros. Passive as that may have been, action would now be required, endangering his House along with that of his cousin.

“Had she not executed Syndic Zenta on Copero,” Tabarin began slowly, “her actions certainly would have merited her adoption. Conversely, had she not executed Zenta, then we would be in no position to do so.” He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We will begin to rehabilitate her standing with the other Houses. We will never win Inrokini, but as long as they remain out of favor, their opinions will count little. It will not be fast, but it will allow us to -- at some point -- come back to the regard with which we truly hold her.”

Saganu turned, opening his mouth to speak, but Tabarin continued. “I will also find some excuse for your absence -- soon -- and ‘Lieutenant Kal’ will have the opportunity to return briefly to Odessen.”

“Tasconu will lend assistance where necessary, as will Lieutenant Temple. Both have assisted in the past.”

“Of that, I’m certain,” Tabarin said. “But we must be sure that Santasi does not discover our machinations. While he is excellent in protecting House Nuruodo, I feel he would be… overzealous… and use the information to your detriment.”

Lips pursed, Saganu nodded. “Agreed.” He drew a cleansing breath, closing his eyes briefly. Tabarin watched as his shoulders resumed their proper position, and the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Cousin.”

“Don’t thank me until she can be properly addressed.” The senior Aristocra frowned. “Life will be quite treacherous until then.”

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