#(which continues to frustrate me because CANON STOP MOVING TOWARDS ''NO SHES JUST STUPID'')

[rxttenfish]

hi !!! sending this on anon because i am rather nervous all things considered <:3 (i am lying to you, i have not considered 'all things'.) one monster prom fan to another (can we be compared using such broad terminology ? i feel as if i am domesticated compared to you... [compliment, or at the very least not inherently negative]) , i wanted to thank you SO SO SO VERY MUCH for giving miranda so much love and thought and mulling her over in your mind in such a ... refreshing way

i also really really really like miri , but i can only aspire to have your level of dedication . it feels almost like we are of totally different worlds... !!!!!

thank you for bringing in real world biology too :3 i absolutely adore your design for her so much (this is most likely not proper grammar, but it is very late and i am very cold and so i will hope with all my heart you will excuse this mistake. one of many, i should assume) - though !!!! i do have a question if that is alright ?????

i cant say that a marine macropredator of a significantly vibrant pink really strikes me as advantageous colouring - does the abyssal environment that you say the merfolk live in negate the need for camouflage and such ????? i apologise for sounding passive aggressive !!!! i am merely asking a question. cocking my head to the side if you will

additionally, i would like to ask something foolish. how do they acquire food? i dont want to say 'hunt', because that might seem insulting. historically were they built for stalking, or high speed chases, or...???? please, talk 'nerdy to me' as they say !!! <- in an entirely normal way befitting two strangers of course.

you know, i would have expected to hit the ask word limit by now. but it seems i have not. yippee !!!!

with my extra space, i shall add this: I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THE WAY YOIU WRITE MIRI . GOOD LOOOOOORD IT IS AMAZING HAVIJNG SOMEOENE WHO KNOWS WHAT THEYRE DOING IWIITH HER thank yoiu for making her at least moderately intelligent. i feel blessed <- is this all too harsh sounding???? im a little new to all this letter/ask-writing thing <:3

IN ANY CASE !!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOIU SO VERY MUCH. AGAIN. drops this and scuttles away

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/761693443676045363/1183251697129226270/ordered3.png

also i believe you can indeed tell, but i drew that in ms paint with my finger .. sorry that it looks like poop <:3

(moving the image out of the link just in case it breaks-)

AAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! this looks so WONDERFUL i love the way that you've shaped her head and how you've captured how Chunky it is... i know its one of the things people have the hardest time drawing with her so its just all the more impressive how well youve managed to capture her!!!

i also love the little doodles eeeee..... please feel free to toss all ocs at miri, its enrichment for her <3 ironically gentle chewing/biting is a Play and Bonding thing for merfolk so she shall happily Bites Bites Bites back-

(also i LOVE her smile!!! you arent anthropomorphizing in the slightest for that - miri often does have very human expressions in a way that's odd for a merfolk, because she effectively got imprinted during her time spent inland... and its politically useful if you smile and match expressions with the people you're trying to work with anyways)

ill also go ahead and answer your questions because i can! very easily clarify on them!

the color: actually, being bright red and pink is actually very common for deep sea animals, due to the way light works at depth! its why i decided miranda was abyssal, because that felt like the most natural way to explain why she's pink, since it's such an uncommon color in nature.

basically, different colors of light have different lengths! red is the shortest wavelength of light, and blue is the longest. water might be clear, but there's a lot of water in the ocean, and the more water you add, the more it filters out light - which is why the bottom of a pool might be dark and shady, but if you hold a little of the water in your hands there's no shade. the ocean is a lot deeper than a pool, and so it gets darker as you go down, but because it's also clear, it doesn't filter out all that light at the same rate.

red, being the shortest wavelength of light, gets filtered out first, so red often gets quickly darker the deeper down you go, until it's completely black! camouflage is dependent on the environment, so their color and brightness has to match the background, but it also depends on the light that's hitting the animal. it's why fawns have dappled spots, or animals might have black stripes, so they can mimic the light of their environment. and when your environment has no red light, well... red's a pretty good color to be!

because of this, a lot of animals in the deep sea can't actually see red either, which is doubly the reason why you might want to be red! think of it like tigers, and how ungulates often can't see their orange, making them look just about the same color as the foliage around them when they're hunting! miranda might stick out on land, but that's just because we aren't seeing her in the environment she's made for, where she blends in with everything else around her as much as a pure black animal.

(it's also why her bioluminescence is blue - blue is the longest wavelength of light, and the one most animals can see at that depth. if she lights up, then she wants to be seen, and she can even alter her silhouette to appear larger or smaller or breaking it up into multiple shapes if she needs to. it's why her tapetum lucidum is blue when light's shone on it, because there is blue light to be seen at depth, it's just very dim!)

(this is also why giant squid are bright red, and why the stoplight loosejaw fish is so special! the latter actually produces its own red light, and can see red light, which means that it has a secret light that won't reveal where it is but will reveal to it where its prey is!)

food: this is something that depends a lot, because there are actually multiple different species of merfolk, which is mostly my fault because i don't always feel like i communicate this the best. they're all slightly different in how they evolved to capture prey, with abyssals in particular being fuckoff huge ambush predators that attack from below, and others being shallower-water hunters or more adapted for smaller, faster prey - but they all evolved from an ancestor with a fairly consistent prey-capture method.

in short, all merfolk are ancestrally evolved to hunt whales and other large prey items, with all the extant species still holding at least a degree of this. primarily, they were ambush predators who were good at getting in close to their prey before a sudden burst of speed. they would work together in close-knit groups (one of the big pressures for their increasing socialization and larger brains, to coordinate such groups) to all mob a single prey item at once, hitting with force to cause sudden trauma, and then using their claws, double-thumbs, back feet, and mouths to hold onto their prey and refuse to be dislodged. they'd repeatedly claw and use their strong bites and massive heads to rip deeply into their prey, causing further massive trauma and shock, and if that failed, bleeding their prey to death.

think of it like the raptor prey restraint model, just further taking advantage of the fact that they were underwater, where no one else has hands that could potentially rip them off. being smaller and somewhat less-optimized for marine life compared to things like sharks and whales and large fish worked for them, because they had a novel adaptation that allowed them to take advantage of things no one else could, and the numbers to make up for it. this is, likewise, why they never lost their hands and fully developed flippers, instead making their limbs as flipper-like as possible to make up for it.

then as time went on and certain populations became separated from each other, they adapted for slightly different niches, but all remain fairly closely related to each other as a genus.

in the modern day, most merfolk don't really "hunt" for all of their meals, at least not in the same way that we might think. don't get me wrong, they still absolutely hunt and it's a larger part of their lives than it is for most humans, but they have options.

mostly, the merfolk theory for their relationship with nature is to invite it in. this is not to say they aren't controlling and pruning it, but they do live underwater, and it's far harder to keep animals out than it is on land, so merfolk accepted it and worked with it. they'll work to promote growth around their buildings and where they live, fostering the growth of sea grass and algae and coral and other sessile animals, encouraging them to set down and grow in these areas, and they'll then let more wild animals move in, further encouraged by these natural sources of food and shelter, on top of merfolk working even further to encourage them in. they serve as a functional cleanup crew for the merfolk in these settlements, being allowed to eat anything that merfolk might drop or go to waste, and even moreso might be purposefully fed at times, or have specific homes for them built. merfolk will keep encouraging them and taking care of them until they become a biorich hotspot, creating unique oasises for wildlife to live alongside merfolk.

however, this isn't just a free-for-all, persay. merfolk will also purposefully prune these populations and control how they form, often removing "problem" animals and encouraging certain behaviors which makes it easier for these populations to live alongside merfolk, not viewing them as a threat, but also not viewing them as an opportunity either. they will directly shape how these areas grow and cultivate them on a physical level, often using them as an easy shortcut to literally grow their settlements and buildings. but they will also harvest from these populations and selectively breed them, until their cities and towns act as massive public gardens full of food to be caught, picked, and eaten at any time

as there are also a lot of (very politically powerful) nomadic groups, they also do this, albeit not always so directly. they'll have specific shoals or "runs" of fish that they will follow behind and take care of, managing as they move through the ocean in accordance with the seasons. this is where the whales still factor in, because the nomadic groups will also take care of the whales, purposefully keeping an eye on their pods and taking care of them and, when the time comes, being choosy and particular in which whale they select at any given time to be hunted, harvested, and eaten.

(there's also the way in which food is distributed and managed throughout the merkingdom, since some food is indeed shipped and moved throughout the different areas, but that's a different story for another time and i've talked enough)

BUT!!!! thank you so much and thank you for enjoying all of this that ive been making with miri, and thank you for giving me an excuse to talk more about her <3

#all the care guide says is 'biomass' #asks #Anonymous #Monster Prom #Miranda Vanderbilt #i am wholeheartedly a ''miri is smart'' person because i mean. cmon. #of course shes smarter than she looks you dont just trip your way into knowing how to play people like a fiddle #manipulation requires cleverness!! knowing how to use it well just comes with the station she has #(honestly to the point where i think her playing stupid is just. well. that! playing stupid!) #(and sometimes just Playing too tbh. she seems to enjoy just. being silly. more than fully fitting into her role) #(which from what i can tell she DOES fit into her role VERY well) #(and absolutely means that yeah no miri acting the way she does isnt just because she has no idea how to be any other way) #(and is instead a deliberate choice that she's making for some other reason) #(which continues to frustrate me because CANON STOP MOVING TOWARDS ''NO SHES JUST STUPID'')

[elephart-hi]

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

~~

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

#ends in #fluff #pls tell me what u think I’ve never done this before #tfota fanfic #jude duarte #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #holly black #tcp #twk #tqn #qon #jude x cardan #my writing #tfota #queen jude #high king cardan #how the high king of elfhame learned to hate stories #WOAQ

[cassandra-moon]

Aaravos and Runaan nsfw head canons

*Requested by @pinknpurplecupcakes​

Aaravos:

So let us all establish that this starry giant is a huge asshole and a tease, let’s just get that one out of the way. One minute you’d be in the study, sitting on the couch, reading a book, then here he comes with that shit eating grin, and then he has his fingers in your pants and inside you, and then their gone. He would pretend to not know what happened and leave you 

Scenario:

It was a quiet day, of course it was always quiet being as no one else nowhere near you and your husbands home, seeing as you have no idea where you are, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that it was very quiet today, a little too quiet. You had also noticed that your husband is nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t unusual, he did stuff like this all the time just to get a rise out of you. Well, today it wasn’t going to work.

You sat quietly on the love seat in the library, reading a book in comfortable silence until they heard the large wooden doors open and close, revealing their giant of a night sky husband, with the usual grin he had. They immediately knew he was up to something. “You're gonna tell me what you're up to, ” They asked, not looking away from your book. He chucked, before striding over to them and sitting down, seeming to show some interest in the book they were reading. They felt a sudden heat coil within them, it wasn’t foreign, just sudden, which also wasn’t strange. They lean into his chest and sigh as his body heat instantly warms them, his strong arms wrap around them in a tight embrace, his arms were so big that they felt even smaller than before, being only 5’2. They felt at peace, relaxed, and after the last few days that was exactly what they needed. 

As they leaned into his exposed chest, they felt one of his large hands slither into the waistband of their pants and gently rub over their lower lips. They gasped, looking up to their husband who only looked over to them to give a sly grin. Just as Y/N was about to question the cosmic being, he pushed over their underwear and began rubbing her their clit.Y/N moved her head back and breathed in pleasure as Aaravos’s warm finger stroked their throbbing cunt, “gods”, she sighed as she felt his large finger fill her tight hole. They grabbed his arm, the book on the floor and long forgotten. “No, you will not call out to the gods tonight”, he whispered in their ear as he moved his finger back and forth, his pace increasing. “Only to me.”

Y/N coils feel his large fingers curved in a come here motion that sends the feeling of electricity through their body as his fingers rubbed their insides vigorously. They could feel themselves about to break when Aaravos removed his fingers then began to suck them dry, he looked over to his breathless and equally frustrated that they didn’t get to finish. He chucked before standing up and leaving, his fingers in his mouth as he licks off their sweet essence. Y/N is so out of breath and frustrated that they could barely form the right words to curse her husband out who was already halfway down the hall.Aaravos sat at his desk, the taste of his lover still lingered on his lips. He was contemplating on whether or not he’d finish what he started, but he decided he’s let them suffer a little bit. “I’d give them what they wanted later.”

He’s a slut for body worship. Like he will collapse to his knees and be your perfect little plaything so long as you keep praising him. But, now here’s where things get interesting. If you tell him you’re disappointed in him, he will go ape shit and make sure he gets that praise. 

Scenario: Aaravos stared up at you with glassy eyes, his cock hard and dripping with precum. The sight was almost enough for you to go crazy and let him take you as he pleased. You stood in front of him, dressed in skimpy black lingerie, your most sacred area exposed to him, making his cock twitch with need. “Have you been a good boy for mommy?” Aaravos nodded quickly, “I have been mommy, please, let me taste you.” He leaned forward, only for you gently to push him back with your foot. You walked towards the bed and spread your legs, your girissening folds making him drool. “I don’t think you have been, honestly.” Reaching down between your legs, you gently began to tease your clit, “I think you’ve been bad. I think you’re going to have to prove it to me.” You raised your hand and beckoned him closer. In seconds, Aaravos scrambled close, grabbing her legs and dove in.You moaned loudly as his tongue danced across your clit, it felt like magic the way he made you feel. Your hands gripped his horns and his hair, grabbing and pulling as ecstasy clouded your senses, nearing your peak. “Good boy Aaravos, very good boy”, you said. “Yes, oh god yes!” Your orgasm hit you like a rock, raising you off the bed as you began to grind yourself against his mouth to drive yourself deeper into pleasure. Aaravos groaned as your arousal landed on his tongue, he removed himself from between your after legs after giving your swollen pussy a long hard lick. The taste of your arousal on his tongue made him groan as he rubbed himself.“Good boy, Aaravos”, you said as your eyelids began to get heavy.

There are certain times where he fucks you into next week. You’d be all out of breath and unable to move your legs and he’d be just getting started. Like it wouldn’t even put a dent in his stamina.

Scenario:

You screamed in pure ecstasy as your husband, Aaravos plowed into you, your warm walls felt heavenly against his hard cock. “How many was that my love, four, five”, Aaravos said in a teasing tone as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder for a different angle. One that he knew you liked after wail of pleasure that effited from your throat. You could barely speak, the only intelligible language that came from you were the occasional moan of his name. His thrust became sloppy, and quicker, indicating he too was nearing his peak, alongside with you, your sixth one that night. 

“Do you want to cum, ,little star. God you look so perfect fucked stupid, a slut for my cock.”He loved to tease you as he slammed inside you, over and over again, hitting that one spot that made you see stars. You clawed at his back, no doubt leaving red marks along his skin, your orgasm just out of reach. Aaravos’ head flew back as he roared in pleasure, his seed filling you. Your orgasm hit just seconds after his, your throat raw from all the screaming. He paused for a minute to allow you to take a breather. Aaravos looked down at you, a smile covering his face. “Look at you, god I hope you’re ready for another round, because I’m not even close to being finished. Your eyes flew open as he shoved his cock back inside of you, ramming you over and over again.

Runaan:

Runaan will top at any chance he gets, but if you can get him on a good day and butter him up some, he’ll cladly bottom for you. But, here’s where things get interesting, if you get too cocky he’ll flip you over and fuck you to a brutal pace.

Scenario:

It all happened so fast that you didn’t even get to register that your fiance was now on top of you with cock teasing your entrance. “Now, sweet moonstone”, he cooed out to you. Runaan grabbed your legs and pushed his way inside you, the warmth and good feeling of his cock stretching you. Runaan grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, your breast bouncing as he rammed into you. “Getting too cocky will get you punished.

Runaan loves to go down on you, it gives him a sense of pride. He loves the taste of you on his tongue then looking up to see you looking at him while he eats you out. Don’t expect him to stop after you finish.

Scenario:

You looked into Runaan’s eyes as he tongue slithered between your folds before twirling around your clit. You gasped and gripped his snow white hair tightly. You screamed and moaned as his fingers wished inside your tight hole. “Runaan”, you cried out, “I’m so close.” Runaan understood perfectly, his tongue roughly liking your swollen clit as your orgasm rocked through you. You shuttered and twitched as he continued to assault your clit. “Ah, Runaan.” He ground and licked you harder. “Be a good girl for daddy, and let me stay down here for a little while longer.

Despite LOVING eating you out, he’ll never say no to having you suck him off. He loves the sight of your cheeks filled with his cock and the look on your face as his cums all over your face and upper body

Scenario:

Runaan moaned as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. He loved to watch you cheek fill with his cock. Runaan gently grabbed your hair in one hand and gripped your horn with the other and gently pushed you down a little further, your tongue rub against his veiny cock. “You are such a good girl.” You moaned, the vibrations making him shutter and moan. “You deserve a reward. Touch yourself.”Your hand flew towards your exposed core, your fingers teasing your clit. “Mmm, god Y/N, you do this so well. God I love.” He thrust his hips into your mouth a couple times before cumming inside your mouth, pulling out to enjoy the look of you covered in white strings. “Goodness you look fantastic.” Runaan gently pushed her down on the mattress and watched as she licked it off her lips. “I hope you called off of work for tomorrow.”

#aaravos x reader #aaravos #runaan x reader #runaan #the dragon prince #season 4 please

[dancingazaleas]

erejean | pretty

RIVALS TO LOVERS SUPREMACY

i’m so sorry i just love erejean and i could go on about why i think they actually have a beautiful friendship in canon

edit: i wrote this while half asleep so i’m sorry

warnings/notes: cursing, college au!, eren’s personality doesn’t change too much, hopeless pining, this is short, this is messy, internalized homophobia, coming out, gay awakening

eren and jean have been rivals ever since they could remember. no one really knows how it started, but the only thing they did know it that one out of the two of them were acting a little weird.

unlike usual, he was oddly silent towards one another and often faced each other with flushing faces. he gave the other longing looks when he wasn’t looking.

eren genuinely didn’t know what was happening. for the past two to three years, jean’s always irritated the hell out of eren. eren’s even the one who came up with the ridiculous nickname of ‘horse face’.

but now, he thinks jean’s pretty... and handsome. eren doesn’t exactly know what happened, he just knows that ever since the end of senior year that his annoyance for jean has decreased almost into nothing.

okay, eren is kind of lying to himself.

eren still is annoyed by jean, but it isn’t like before. eren never used to be annoyed at how jean’s eyelashes were long and pretty. he never had been annoyed about how his hands were bigger in comparison to his own, he’d never want to hold them. he’d never been annoyed about how jean’s body wasn’t against his, encasing eren with his odd ember fire.

he hated how jean looks so pretty whenever he thinks to himself, he hates how jean looks so stupidly beautiful whenever he’s drawing. he hates how pretty jean looks whenever he laughs, and he hates that he wants that smile to stay there forever.

but what eren hates the most is that he isn’t even gay.

eren’s never really found men attractive growing up, but that didn’t exactly mean that he found girls attractive. eren had only ever dated one girl, who was now a lesbian with a girlfriend and also his close friend.

the only boy eren ever thought was cute was armin. but eren always brushed it off since the two of them were childhood friends. usually childhood friends find each other cute right? and cuddly? and... y’know what, nevermind.

eren sits in his room beside his bed, crying into the palms of his hands from confusion. he’s tried so hard to feel something for girls, any girl that would throw herself at him, but it didn’t work. eren can’t even get hard if he thinks about girls in a sexual manner, but finds himself doing so when thinking of men.

he’s so confused. he’s never been so confused in his entire life.

“eren, do you want anything from... are you okay,” eren looks up to see armin’s face bunched up with concern.

eren wipes away his tears even though it’s pointless because the tears keep flooding over. he can’t help but sob now, too embarrassed at how he’s feeling. armin’s on the floor beside eren within seconds, arms wrapping around eren’s broad shoulders and pulling him into his chest.

eren’s hands weave themselves into the loose fabric of armin’s forest green turtleneck, finally letting everything he’d been holding in out.

eren hates how he confused he is. armin’s shushing him while tracing circles into the fabric of his hoodie, and eren knows that armin is anxious. before eren can try and calm himself down, there’s a gasp from his doorway and the sound of footsteps coming closer. he assumes that mikasa is home, to which he’s correct.

“eren, what’s wrong,” she asks gently, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

he chokes out a sob, digging his head further into armin’s shirt.

“just wait until he’s calmed down to ask,” armin advises, continuing to trace patterns into his back.

it takes a few minutes for eren to be able to speak, and even then it’s difficult.

“eren, what’s wrong,” armin pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the dampness on his shirt.

“i’m... i’m confused,” he sighs after a sniffle, hand wiping away a tear.

“about what,” mikasa questions with an eyebrow raised.

“fuck,” he hisses from frustration, “i don’t know what i like.”

“like? do you mean hobbies?”

“no.”

“things? stuff like books or cheese?”

“no.”

“food?”

“no!”

“people?”

eren stays silent, now pulling his own knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. mikasa and armin give eren a sympathetic look, they both had gone through this as well.

“you think you like men,” mikasa treads carefully, not wanting to upset eren even more than he already is.

“yea,” his voice shakes along with his hands.

“what boy?” armin tilts his head back to lean against eren’s mattress.

“jean,” eren sighs, already feeling himself start to tear back up.

mikasa hums in confirmation, “i see.”

eren’s crying again, absolutely ashamed of himself.

“he just... i hate him ‘cause he’s so pretty and caring. whenever i’m angry, he tries not to make it worse. he pays attention to the stupidest little details, like how i like the crunchier parts of the bread on chicken. he’s so warm, it’s like he’s constantly on fire and i just.. i wanna be surrounded by it. he’s actually really thoughtful whenever he’s not trying to be a douche, and i hate it,” eren cries while he puts his head on mikasa’s muscular shoulder.

“and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, i mean literally nothing. i just hate that i’m confused. what does this mean? i haven’t felt like this towards him before, so why now,” he sniffles, “fuckin’ stupid.”

“y’know... armin and i once felt like this before,” mikasa says, a small and comforting smile coming up onto her face.

“about marco and annie,” he asks, and shifts his gaze to armin.

“yes. whenever i first realized in sophomore year, i was so confused and upset. annie was so pretty, and boys weren’t. at the time, it all felt so wrong, like it wasn’t meant to be that way,” mikasa explains with hesitance, “i told armin i like girls, and he told me he liked boys and that he felt the same way during freshman year. we hated how confused we were, and we hated that we liked the same sex.”

“but all it takes is acceptance from yourself,” armin smiles, “it’s okay to be confused, eren. you’re still 19, you’ve got so much time to figure out who you even are. also, even if you say there’s nothing wrong with being gay, there’s a chance you’ll have internalized homophobia towards yourself. it’s okay to be a gay man named eren yeager. and it’s okay to be confused. you don’t need to rush it, set your own pace.”

“armin’s right. eren, we love you no matter what. you mean the world to the both of us, even if you’re confused with your identity. it’s okay to explore those feelings, and it’s okay to be wrong about them. either way, we love you so much, eren,” mikasa wipes a tear from his eye with her thumb.

eren wants to cry again just from how loving the two of his friends are.

“thanks you guys, i love you too,” he chuckles as they’re all pulled into a group hug.

————

two months later, eren’s telling all of his friends. they accept him with open arms, which isn’t too surprising, but it makes him happy nonetheless.

another month, he’s telling his superiors at his work. they’re the closest eren has to parents since his mom and dad died, and they accepted him happily. he wasn’t too surprised, but even so it made him cry. knowing that he was loved no matter what made him emotional.

another month later, he’s telling one of the most important people in his life. his brother, who raised him and mikasa since his parents died. he’s once again accepted with open arms, and is even reminded that zeke has brought home boys whenever they both were younger. he’s so lucky.

but even after all this, he’s still crushing on jean. only now, he’s more accepting of how he wants jean to kiss him.

eren also thinks jean is an idiot.

eren has made multiple moves on the muffin top, but he hasn’t even realized. eren’s linked pinkies with jean while his face reddens, he’s fed jean, he’s even resorted to telling him horrible pickup lines.

what makes it worse is that jean thinks this is a rivalry thing again, god knows how.

what’s even more annoying is the fact that jean so obviously likes eren back, but eren is also too stupid to notice. eren, somehow, doesn’t notice how his face shows up in jean’s sketchbook more than it should. he doesn’t notice the flirty innuendos that jean tells him.

and it’s so annoying.

everyone feels this is even more annoying then whenever the two were at each other’s throats 24/7.

jean yawns while he stretches his arms towards the sky, pencil falling from his fingers and onto the paper of his sketchbook. he’s been outside drawing for two hours now, practicing landscapes and drawing under a short amount of time.

eren’s sleeping beside him on the grass, head resting on jean’s book bag while his arms hold his hoodie to his chest. some of eren’s hair is falling out of the bun it’s in, swishing silently as the wind begins to blow softly against their bodies.

jean thinks eren looks so pretty. with a cautious hand, he tucks a strand behind eren’s pierced ear. eren’s skin his warm against jean’s hand, even though the wind has been blowing gently on eren’s snoozing face.

jean brushes eren’s baby hairs out of his face, softly smiling at eren’s serenity. and before he can stop himself, his cheek is in the palm of jean’s large hand.

jean’s thumb strokes his cheekbone while the rest of his fingers get tangled into eren’s hair.

“pretty,” jean mumbles while he smiles.

for some reason, jean doesn’t pull his hand away. even when eren eyes start to flutter open and look at him. even whenever eren’s cheeks darken.

“you’re pretty, y’know,” jean says, ignoring how the setting sun was starting to get in his eyes.

“you’re not too bad yourself, horsey,” eren snickers while jean rolls his eyes and scoffs.

they’re left in a comfortable silence as jean finally pulls away and turns back to the sketchbook in his lap.

it showed no progress of landscapes and random people, only a drawing of eren sleeping.

————

eren and jean find themselves looking at the stars while standing in the lake a month later. it’s hot during june, even during the late nights where the sun has been put to rest.

which is why they came up with the bright idea to go swimming in a lake at 12 in the morning. the idea wasn’t even planned, eren decided on a whim and just decided to drag jean along.

jean points up towards the stars, “the big dipper.”

eren follows his finger, a huge smile spreading across his face at jean’s correct assumption.

“there’s the constellation of gemini,” eren says while pointing.

“makes sense since it’s june.”

eren nods, looking towards jean.

he looks so pretty in the moonlight.

“hey jean.”

“yeah, what do you wan—!”

eren interrupts jean by splashing him with water, hearty laughs echoing through the terrain as goes on.

“not cool,” jean tries to say angrily, but ends up laughing.

he splashes eren back and then retreats deeper into the lake. eren follows behind, tackling jean under the water. they both laugh once they come to the surface, pointing out how the water now reached their thighs.

“that’s why we’re here, jean. to get wet,” he raises an eyebrow while putting his hands on jean’s shoulders.

“yeah, heads up!” jean shouts while he dunks eren under the water while on top of him.

they’re once again laughing when they resurface, both trying to catch the breath that had been taken out of them.

“you’re hair looks good wet,” eren says while gesturing to jean.

“i always look good,” jean jokes, eren snorting obnoxiously afterwards.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” eren shrugs.

the two goof around for a few minutes longer, laughs echoing against the trees and back into their ears.

neither of them want this to end.

eren has an arm wrapped around jean as he holds himself up, laughing stupidly at god knows what. jean laughs as well, heart fluttering sweetly at the sight of eren’s pretty smile.

and jean doesn’t know how to think.

so, he pulls eren straight up, grabs ahold of his plump and warm cheeks and gives him a sweet kiss.

the sweetest kiss eren’s ever had.

eren reciprocates shyly, pushing his lips back against jean’s. he grabs at jean’s bicep, wanting to ground himself just to make sure that he isn’t dreaming.

jean pulls away whenever they need air, resting his forehead against eren’s.

“i love you,” he whispers to him breathily, moving his hands to hold onto eren’s.

“i love you too,” eren chuckles and stares into jean’s eyes, “even if you’re an idiot that looks like a horse.”

jean rolls his eyes, and instead of replying to eren, he gives eren another kiss. he’ll tell eren that he’s pretty after.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk eren #eren aot #attack on titan eren #eren yaegar #eren x jean #erejean #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean aot #snk jean #aot jean

[thetriggeredhappy]

Consider: the scene in the comics where Scout dies, but instead it's Spy who's dying and he actually has the balls to tell Scout the truth face-to-face before it's too late.

consider: this shit is gonna break your heart, anon. dad!spy hours

(warnings for canon-typical violence, extreme character injury, major character death)

-

Just his luck that he’d find himself alone with so many of those ridiculous robots and with his knee so destroyed. He at least managed to take down the one that finally got him.

These tin cans didn’t even know enough to understand how to efficiently kill someone, he seethed. He’d certainly be bleeding out shortly—he was fairly sure he had a punctured lung, among other things, but the blood loss would probably be what did him in—but god, it was taking forever.

He could take some solace in that he at least didn’t drag Sniper to die along with him, had sent him to try and pick off as many bots as he could from the windows. And... well, he was fairly sure he’d been as useful as he could have been in this fight. Helped kill one of the Classic team—two, if you counted throttling his own counterpart—and done some good recon work besides. This wasn’t the most poetic or heroic death, but he wasn’t a fan of poetry and had never considered himself much of a hero, so that was probably fair.

But that stupid robot had ruined his jacket, which he was pretty annoyed about. Not like it would matter in the long run, but frustrating regardless.

God, it was cold.

He lifted his head when he heard the sound of rapid footfalls echoing down the hall, growing closer. Hey, maybe he could trick some robot into finishing him off, at least. Save himself some time and excruciating pain. He would’ve gone for the cyanide tooth, but unfortunately, this was the one situation where he’d jumped for that option a little bit too early. Just his luck.

(God, it was cold.)

Oh, well. Bludgeoned to death by a Scoutbot at least promised to be relatively quick. They tended to go for the head.

He looked up to at least give a snide remark to his more rapidly-approaching death, only for them to get stuck in his throat as the death in question rounded the corner and made eye contact with him.

“Holy shit, Spy?” Scout asked, looking startled and a little out of breath.

“Merde,” Spy mumbled, and was a little caught off guard by how hoarse his voice was.

In a second Scout had taken a knee next to him and was surveying the damage, mouth running at a mile a minute. “Holy shit we were lookin’ everywhere, Sniper showed up because I guess he was dead but now he’s better apparently and he said you two split off for some reason but you’d been fuckin’ kneecapped and—dude, you look like shit, what happened?”

“What does it look like?” Spy asked dryly.

“I mean, I don’t wanna give you an ‘I told you so’ or nothin’ but this is kinda what you get for disappearing and running off on your own all the time,” Scout pointed out.

He almost couldn’t feel the tiny ache of guilt that put in his chest underneath all the other much more life-threatening aches that were also in his chest. “Well, I’d say I’ve learned my lesson, but I think unfortunately I won’t be able to demonstrate any time soon,” Spy replied, and yeah, there was a puncture to his lung. He had to fight hard to hold down a cough, and only because he knew it would sound extremely pathetic.

“Okay, uh—can you move? Okay, you can’t move,” Scout seemed to decide. “Uh, okay, okay so I’ll uh—so I’m gonna go get Medic, and—he’s fast too we should be able to get back here in like ten minutes flat, easy! Just, I guess try and hold your guts in, I’ll be right back with help!”

Considering the amount of injured Medic was likely to be, he very much doubted Scout would be back with Medic in only ten minutes. And considering the way that his vision was swimming and how distorted Scout’s face got towards the tail end of that last sentence, he doubted he would make it ten minutes anyways.

And he found unexpected panic suddenly rising up in his chest at the thought of dying alone, here in a hallway surrounded by broken mechanical parts and acrid smoke. He forced himself into motion despite the way it made the entire room suddenly seem to careen to the left, and managed to catch Scout by the leg of his ridiculous trousers before he could take off again. “Wait,” he croaked. “Wait.”

“I, no, I gotta go get Medic, I’ll take like ten seconds—“ Scout was quick to assure, so quick that Spy realized he was legitimately worried.

“I’ll—“ Spy started, and paused to clear his throat just to give himself enough time to think of an excuse to have Scout stick around for a minute. “I’ll be fine to wait a little longer, but first I had something important to say.”

Scout frowned. “Yeah?”

And he did. He absolutely did. The problem was that this excuse was... hm.

The problem was that this was something he’d been putting off. The larger part of the situation for about 20 years, and then more directly for about six. And Spy thought that surely he would work up the courage to get to it over the course of their employment, only for it to be unexpectedly terminated, and he decided, well, that was that. He would just have to live with it. But then they got arrested and the thought that surely he would get to it over the course of their time in prison, and once again he didn’t, couldn’t seem to force himself into that conversation, not when he was trapped, not when he couldn’t run from whatever outcome ended up happening.

And now he was dying. And for all he knew, Scout was going to die shortly as well. And in most of the ways that mattered, Spy was the only person who could really answer this question, because apparently Scout’s mother had committed to the lie he’d asked her to tell, had continued to stay headstrong on helping to cover up how he’d faked his death. And how was she to know he was really dead, surely Scout would never bring it up—

If he didn’t tell Scout now, Scout would never know.

Scout would go the rest of his life never getting answers about his father.

“Merde,” he mumbled again, slumping back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut against the way the world was spinning, feeling motion sick.

He heard Scout take a knee again, and after a second he hesitantly prompted him. “Uh, what? What is it? What’s up?” he asked carefully.

Spy forced himself to open his eyes, and was a little startled by how difficult it was. He focused hard on one of his own shoes, trying his best to make the world stop spinning so fast. He swallowed hard to try and clear his throat, steady his voice. It almost worked. “This is very important,” he started with, and forced sharpness into his tone. “So I will not be needing any of your little jokes and quips and interruptions.”

“Y... yeah, okay,” Scout said, and the worry was extremely easy to read on his face, and Spy kind of hated that.

Spy considered his words. “You’ve mentioned before that you never knew your father,” he decided to open with. Scout immediately began to frown. “And... and I never said anything. Even though that was a very brave thing to bring up.”

Scout opened his mouth to reply before remembering himself and shutting it again.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Spy managed to choke, and he kept track of Scout’s expressions in his periphery, finding it easier to hold on to that way than by trying to look at him directly. “Because you’re never going to get the chance to know your father, not really. Not in the way you deserve, and it’s my fault.“

“Spy, what the fuck does that even mean?” Scout demanded, and maybe the anger starting to flood into his voice was fair. “You—what did you do?”

“You deserved to have a father,” Spy said, and it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was dodging the question, but maybe he wanted to be obvious, just for a minute. “A good one, who did all sorts of ridiculous fatherly things for you. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t. You deserved to. You did.”

God, it was cold.

“And he should have been there for you, and for your family,” Spy continued, and felt his stomach lurch unexpectedly, and had to shut his jaw tight for a moment, tight enough to feel his fake teeth aching. “And he should have supported them and been a good father, and your life should have been made much more easy than it was, and you should not have needed to get in fights and become a criminal in the first place, and you should never have needed to sign up to become a murderer in some terrible desert in New Mexico among a pack of assassins and madmen.”

“Spy, I, I should get Medic—“ Scout tried to cut in, moved as if to stand back up. Spy snared a hand in the front of Scout’s shirt, and though he knew full well that he wasn’t strong enough to actually stop Scout in any capacity, he froze up anyways.

“And—and I know that you deserved a real father, and I knew that,” Spy said, “and I know there is no excuse that can ever be given. There is nothing that I can ever say to make it up to you, or to your mother, or your brothers, nothing. And I should have been there but I was scared and I was convinced I was being hunted and I cared too much about all of you to let that happen because of me, and it was selfish—“

“Spy,” Scout said, and it took all the strength that Spy had just to look at him, and there were a lot of emotions on his face just then. He saw realization, for one. Shock, astonishment maybe.

And for the first time in maybe his entire life, Spy decided that he just needed to be honest. 

“I’m your father, Jeremy,” Spy croaked.

Silence. Long, long silence. In the far distance, gunshots and explosions and yelling, soft enough that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination.

“You gonna try and say some kind of cool line, now, too?” Scout asked, and his voice was sharp enough to sting, and Spy winced at it. “Some kind of bullshit about how it, it was for my own good? Or that it’s—that you always cared from far away or some shit, that it was better this way? Gonna ask me to fuckin’ forgive you, here on your deathbed?”

“No, I am not,” Spy replied, voice faint. “I know there is nothing I can say to make it up to you. Words are insufficient.” He breathed deeply and forced down the instinct that was telling him to cough. “But I would rather not leave you wondering forever. I thought... this was better than nothing.”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Silence.

“I get the distinct impression that you are angry with me,” Spy managed.

“Duh, I’m mad at you. Jesus fuck, you have no clue how mad I am at you. But I’m not...” Scout paused to think over his words. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at... old you. The you who ran off. And... I dunno. Kinda seems like you hate that guy too.”

“Very much,” Spy confirmed.

“Yeah. I dunno. I guess... I dunno.” Scout paused for a long moment. “And... maybe this is better than nothing, I guess. Because... it’s not the same or nothin’, but... I dunno. At least I know now. And... at least I know what my dad’s like now. That’s something.” 

Silence. Spy managed a nod, but not words.

When Scout spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically level. “You’re gonna die here, aren’t’cha, Spy?”

“Oui. I have no doubt in my mind,” Spy sighed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure Scout could hear it.

Scout was quiet for a minute. He moved to pull Spy’s hand off of his shirt (not that it was difficult), and for one terrifying moment Spy thought he was about to just drop Spy’s hand and stand up and leave him to rot in some hallway on an uncharted island where he would never be found. His vision was darkening rapidly, and he didn’t think he had the strength to try and stop him again, or that it would even work.

But instead Scout clasped Spy’s hand in his own and held it tight to his chest, squeezing Spy’s shoulder beneath his hand. “Run hell, asshole,” Scout said with the slightest of smiles, and it was so like Scout to be joking just then, to be trying to comfort him just then even if it was in his own way, to find the most indirect, roundabout method of letting Spy know that things were okay. And it made Spy laugh, and laughing was the last thing that Spy remembered.

-

He saw the last of the color drain from Spy’s face, the way the muscles there slowly went slack, and after a long moment he moved the hand from Spy’s shoulder to check for a pulse. He shifted to try again three times, not positive he was doing it right, before realizing, no. He was definitely doing this right. Spy was dead.

He let his own hand drop, then carefully laid down Spy’s.

Man. Twenty-seven fuckin’ years, and he finally finds his dad, and it’s Spy. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Spy would find a way to escape that kind of conversation and never look back, but he was a little surprised that his solution was apparently dying.

...

That wasn’t that funny.

Scout leaned back, scrubbed at his face with his hand, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Conflicted emotions. Conflicted thoughts.

Jesus, he should’ve seen it. That dumb dream he’d had back at Heavy’s house when he’d almost died, the stupid jokes Spy kept making about his Ma and the suspicious amount of information Spy had about him, way more than was probably on any official record. And the weird shit Heavy had been saying to him, and all the times Spy stuck his neck out for him when he really didn’t have to—

He didn’t think it was obvious enough for him to guess, but it was definitely obvious enough to suspect.

...So being an asshole ran in the family, huh?

He sat back on his heels.

...His Ma always said they had similar eyebrows. And their eyes in general, apparently. Ears. The mask made it kinda hard to tell.

The mask.

For a few seconds, Scout really genuinely considered taking the mask off.

This was his dad. Ma apparently lost the few pictures she had of him years ago, and this was his only chance. If he didn’t look now, he’d never really know what his dad looked like. Not in a real way. And didn’t he deserve to know? Hadn’t he earned this?

But he couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. That was a kind of disrespect he couldn’t stoop to, not even to a dead guy.

He didn’t know why, but he felt himself tearing up.

If he made it out of this alive, he made a promise to himself. He was gonna talk to Miss P—those two were friends, right?—and he was gonna find out more about Spy. He’d hire a private eye if he had to, he’d spend every penny of his Tom Jones money figuring out everything he could. Spy hadn’t given him a lot to work with, but it was something. It was enough.

He wiped his eyes, rocked forward to stand, shook himself. For a second he thought about getting Medic, seeing if he could work his magic, but he’d only seen Sniper for a minute, only long enough for him to say that coming back to life was a one-time deal. He took a deep breath and turned, starting to walk down the hallway. Running off felt wrong just then.

Maybe God was looking out for him, just then, because that meant he hadn’t turned the corner down the hall, which meant he heard the feeble little cough behind him and could turn around, could see that Spy had a hand lifted.

A pause to process.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Scout scathed in the angriest voice he could manage, even as he felt tears leap into his eyes.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #everybody talks #dad!spy #my fanfiction #tag as ship and die by my blade

[gilly-bj]

Sorry not to be rude ( I prolly worded this better in my head lol ) but when people say "isayama doesn't owe us anything" fr writing a bad ending or whatever, I laugh because he does??? ?? We are the audience , aot is source of income where do you think the money comes from? A fucking tree? It's a give & take relationship. As viewers we have the very right to criticize and ask for a better ending but in 139's case that's not even good enough, we need proper explanation for so many plot holes hello?? Even Isa himself believes that he needs to make the majority happy which is precisely why he went online searching for reviewed and comments from ppl. That's why it's a fan service ending bc the vast majority are either Ems who thrash ehs or ship em by default + ema Stans. And yes he did admit to making changes due to his editors in the past and if that ain't evident enough for the possibility that the ending in fact was charged last minute. Yes isayama can make mistake he is a human and he even said he regrets the ending which clearly tells us that it's the not the ending he wanted. Idk ppl be like "fans think as if they can make better ending" but yes it's true they can actually🤨 , if Isa himself isn't happy with it that means someone else CAN in fact make a better ending because surprise surprise Isa isn't the ONLY ONE with an understanding to his story and decent reading comprehension. It's okay to admit the ending was bad just because the entire series until that point has been a masterpiece, criticism isn't disrespectful it's having common sense to not blindly love what your favs puts out. Em Shipers are now screaming "y'all don't understand the interview" the fuck? How long are they gonna gaslight EHS even after continually getting what they want when are they gonna stop acting like it's not just EHs who didn't like the ending. Eh, Eren being the father made sense for the plotline, unbiased people can have no trouble admitting that. Em was picked up from the trash as a wallmart version of Romeo & Juliet ( even then they lacked "true love" concept by 100% ) at the cost of mikasa's character development. I remember defending 138 and I quote myself saying "isayama gave Mikasa the development of a lifetime" but now I can't even say that anymore because caniconally there is no evidence that supports that anymore. And I'm open to Mikasa critcisism bc i actually cared about her as an individual character. The way the news of Eren X Mikasa love comedy upseted me is because even as a joke we are gonna be stuck in that "Mikasa showed Erne how to love 😍😍💔" agenda with that collection 🤢🤢. Whatever the fuck I do not care anymore ( but I really do ) I just hope what we get for rivamika adds to the theory of Mikasa moving on and does not mess up our healing pace as fandom, I rest my case. 🕳️🏃‍♀️

Hi my dear @ackermanshoe and thank you for this looong ask! 

Okay joking apart, I agree with you. “Isayama doesn’t owe us anything” doesn’t make sense; when you post something online, it isn’t yours anymore. AOT is famous worldwide, he hasn’t written it just to keep it in a drawer of his desk. He’s giving us something, which is the time and “effort” he puts in creating the story, and we are giving him something else, popularity and money, that obviously doesn’t make happiness but we must accept that it is important. I don’t think he’s the type of person that just cares about the money; if he was, he would have stopped with season 3 but despite the fact that he was tired he decided to give aot a conclusion with the last arc that unfortunately ended the way we know. So I think that something happened; for me, it’s both his readers’ and editor’s fault. He probably saw many of them disliking the Marley Arc and when the editor talked with him about Erem*ka and the other fanservice shits we got in 139, he just said “ok fine” since he was tired of everyone. Rereading 139, the Erem*ka scenes really look like some kind of sarcastic criticisms towards their relationship. It looks like he made fun of it since everything is really absurd and stupid. And even if he didn’t owe us anything, we would have had the right to express our disappointment; when you work with audience you have to be ready to accept compliments and criticisms. Those excuses to me sounds like the words of an e* that doesn’t accept others opinion about their “canon” ship ☠🤡 They don’t understand that it’s not about shipping, everyone who just looked deeper into the story and wanted and expected the best for the last chapter didn’t like it, even non shippers. Some say it’s fine because everyone is alive but i don’t understand how can you say they are alive when their characters were fucking ruined, they are physically alive but those are not the characters we knew, especially Eren. Even non shippers said that Erehisu made more sense than E*, their ship is completely baseless; we have not misinterpreted the story for 11 years it was just obvious that Eren didn’t love Mikasa; it was confirmed various times that he saw her as a mum and not as a lover and where’s this extreme care he felt for Historia. When did he show that care for Mikasa ☠🤡??? He was ready to kill all his friends, including her. And the “Mikasa taught Eren how to love” is so disgusting that i can’t believe someone actually has the audacity to say that. What love? Does it look like love to you? When you love someone you want the their happiness and Eren said that he didn’t want Mikasa to be happy. He treated her like an object and that’s not romantic, AT ALL. It’s not about shipping it’s just that you have a completely wrong mentality if you think that treating a woman, a man, or basically a breathing human being like that is fine. Mikasa deserves more than a man like Eren, she deserves someone that respects her and loves her. I can’t believe there’s someone in this world that thinks that it’s an healthy relationship. Look, if you are an Erem*ka shipper and you think that their relationship is fine you better leave my blog because, honestly, a person with this wrong mentality doesn’t deserve my respect. Now, I’m sorry for this long post, but I had to vent out my frustration about e*. 

These are just opinions but I don’t regret a single word that is written here.

#gilly bj #ask me anything! #answering ackermanshoe

[buttonso]

Teamwork: An Aura/Harvey short

AKA: Buttonso Very Unsubtly Projects FEELINGS Onto Poor Aura.

I am going to put this below a cut both for length and because the whole thing concerns fears/anxieties around pregnancy. If you like it and want to reblog it, you may, but I will not tolerate any form of judgmental commentary. I'm prepared to block people if needs be.

2,685 words. Contains a few swears. Forgive any typos ^^*

So. Ok. Well. A few weeks ago, I learned that I was pregnant. I did not think it was in the cards for me, for various reasons, so it's been a surprise, and while it's a good surprise, I have found it to be more than a little overwhelming. My husband has been amazing and has been doing a good job of keeping me off the ledge, and this whole thing is based on one of the many pep talks he's given me in the last few weeks.

This clearly would take place after Breathe With Me is over. It may or may not be considered canon, as I could end up contradicting it in the future sequel of Breathe With Me...... which may be a long time coming now that my life is changing.

Maybe this is TMI, and if I've made anyone uncomfortable, I do apologize.

*

Teamwork

Harvey whistled under his breath, a cheery tune befitting the sunny day and his sunnier disposition. No matter how busy he got at the clinic, nothing had been able to dampen his spirits for long over the past several weeks. It was a lovely spring and promised to be an even lovelier summer. His home and his wife were lovelier still… and he was going to be a father. Oh, not for a awhile- Aura was nearing the end of her first trimester, but everything seemed to be going well so far.

It seemed that having everything he wanted in life agreed with Harvey.

His last appointment of the day had cancelled on him, and he’d decided to close the clinic early and head home to surprise Aura. He’d stopped by the General Store for a few things, the plan spinning out naturally as he shopped. He would draw a bath for her so she could relax after she came in from the fields while he cooked a nice dinner. He harbored vague, hopeful notions of offering her a massage after dinner, but that would be dependent on her energy levels after- it was entirely possible she would want to go straight to sleep.

Aura, of course, stubbornly insisted on continuing to do all the work she was accustomed to doing, and despite Harvey’s misgivings, he’d yielded to the judgement of her OB, who had said she could continue to work as long as she felt up to it. Well, the doctor was right, and he himself would have said the same thing to a patient, but that didn’t stop Harvey from worrying.

He did not see Aura anywhere near the farmhouse as he stepped up onto the porch, but that was not unusual. She might be in the far fields, or the barn, or the woods… she might well even be inside, working on something in the kitchen. But she always came home at 6:30 for supper, so he would be ready when she arrived. Harvey’s cheery little whistle became a contented hum as he set the groceries down on the kitchen table, then headed towards the bedroom to change clothes, loosening his tie as he walked. The living room and kitchen was empty- even the cat was nowhere in evidence.

The hum died in his throat as he pushed open the bedroom door and he saw her. Aura was lying on the bed, fully dressed on top of the covers, curled on her side. Her back was to him, and her body was shaking with soft, hopeless little sobs. Alarm shot through him- he couldn’t help the automatic, instinctive lunge towards the bed.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asked, as she jumped, clearly startled, nearly lurching off the bed as she turned to face him, eyes wide as she hastily wiped at her tear-streaked face. Murphy, who’d been hidden from Harvey’s view by Aura’s body, scampered off the bed in alarm, his tubby body hitting the floor with a thud on the opposite side of the bed, claws scrabbling on the floor as he scampered off.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!!” She exclaimed, one hand pressed to her chest and the other held out towards him, her finger pointing at him in accusation. “What are you doing home so early?!”

“My last appointment was canceled, and I thought I’d surprise you. Please… tell me, what’s going on…” He fought down the panicked, instant assumption of utter disaster, but he’d never seen her like this before. “…Did… did something happen? Are you well?”

“I-I’m fine…physically, anyway.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before rubbing at her eyes and cheeks again with both hands. “I’m just… having some feelings. Dealing with feelings was never my strong suit and it’s harder than ever these days.”

“What sort of feelings?” Harvey moved cautiously towards the bed, sinking onto it beside her.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Aura sighed, but she leaned into his touch when he reached out and put a hand on her cheek.

“It’s not nothing, you were in tears.�� Anxiety made his voice tight and his tone a bit sharp. She flinched, biting her lip as she avoided his gaze. His hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder. “Sweetheart… please… tell me.” His heart raced and he felt himself trembling a little, despite his need to be brave. “Please,” He repeated, when the silence stretched between them, and he felt her shoulder beginning to tremble again.

“I-I…” she took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m scared, okay?” She blew out a frustrated breath and covered her face with her hands. “I’m… scared and I feel stupid, immature, selfish… I…I hate myself for feeling this way…”

“Why? What are you afraid of?” He slid his arm around her carefully, but she stiffened, rather than relaxing into his embrace as she always did. Dread crept up his spine, and panic made another attempt at clawing its way out.

“…I…I should be happier than I am. About the baby.” Her tone was extremely reluctant, her silver eyes downcast as she continued to avoid his gaze. She put a trembling hand on her stomach as the other hand came to rest on Harvey’s thigh. “But once the excitement of telling you wore off… every day, every week since… I’ve only gotten more and more worried.”

“Oh.” Harvey released the breath he’d been holding in a trembling sigh. “…Is… that all.” She still had a long way to go in her pregnancy… but still, that meant she’d been agonizing for several weeks in silence. It didn’t speak well for his attentiveness as a husband. “I’ve been floating around here like a happy fool, and I never noticed you were in distress…”

“You didn’t notice because I hid it from you,” She sighed. “I…I didn’t want to rain on your parade. And your excitement was definitely contagious at first, but now…”

“…Now?” He made another attempt at sliding his arm around her, and this time she did lean into him, to his relief.

“Everything… is gonna change, Harvey,” she said softly. “Everything. And I… I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.”

Harvey ran his hand up and down her arm slowly in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m of the firm belief that there’s nothing you can’t handle, my dear.”

“But… don’t you see…” Aura paused as she seemed to try to compose herself, only to have her voice break. “I’m… I’m not good enough, Harvey.”

“Not good enough?” He echoed, biting back the automatic impulse to deny it. “Why do you think that?”

“There’s… there’s no doubt in my mind you’re going to be the best Dad ever. I mean… baby, you practically have nurturer tattooed on your forehead. But me? I’ve spent my entire adult life just doing whatever I wanted to do. I’ve learned how to be considerate of you, and to accommodate you in my life, but… a baby… I don’t… I don’t know how to be in a normal family. I just can’t see any way I’m not going to totally fuck this all up.”

“Sweetheart…” He tightened his embrace and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s perfectly natural to have concerns about impending parenthood… I know I’ve been all smiles since you told me you were pregnant, but I’ve been worried too… I grew up without a father, so I have no example to look back on. But we’ll learn together. We have friends with experience to draw upon, and we’ll be just fine. All three of us.”

“No, no it’s not… not just that…” Aura shook her head and gestured with one hand, as if she were shaping a lump of dough while she worked through her thoughts. “It’s not just worrying about doing a good job… even though I am… but I…” Her hand tightened into a fist, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “All this worrying I’ve been doing… I’m thinking about myself. How my freedom is going to be curtailed. How my relationship with you may be affected, may even suffer. How… how much I am not enjoying feeling the changes in my body.” Her cheeks reddened as her voice wobbled. “I hate feeling low-key sick all the time… my clothes are getting uncomfortably tight… my breasts feel too big, I’m not sleeping well... I mean, do you hear this? It’s all me, me, me, I, I, I… what kind of fucking self-centered monster am I? Instead of worrying about whether or not my baby is healthy I’m only thinking about how uncomfortable I am and how scared I am of all this change.” Her voice broke at last, and she began to sob again.

“Oh… my darling…” Harvey had never seen her in such a state, and he wasn’t quite sure how to react for a moment, but hugging her seemed like a safe bet, and he used both arms to do so, pulling her against his chest. “I wish you’d told me sooner…” He was no obstetrician, but Aura’s doctor was a friend of his, and he’d read quite a lot on the subject of pregnancy ever since they agreed to try for a baby. This felt like mere reassurance wouldn’t be enough. “You know… I meant it, earlier, when I said there’s nothing you can’t handle,” He said after a few moments of simply holding her.

“I know you think so, but…” She sniffed and he shook his head.

“No but.” He put just enough sternness into his voice that she blinked at looked questioningly at him.

“When you first came here… I was so in awe of how confident you were. You came here all by yourself and resurrected your grandfather’s dying farm. You ventured into those dreadful mines and fought monsters… and you told me once that you were not going to stop taking risks if you had a shot at something better. I remind you of all this not to dismiss your concerns… but to tell you that I have every confidence in you,” Harvey told her, doing his best to be calm. He hated seeing her this way, but he knew he needed to be the strong one now, even if that was normally her role.

“How can you not be… disgusted by what I just told you?” She asked damply, sniffing again, and wiping her face inelegantly with the back of her hand, blinking several times to clear the tears from her eyes.

Harvey fished a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “Because you’re my favorite person in the world, and I love you so very much.” He smiled, feeling a bit shy and awkward. “I think you should talk to some of the other mothers in town… or if you aren’t comfortable with that, find a support group online. You cannot possibly be the only woman to feel this way. I of course cannot know what it feels like to be pregnant, but… it is not surprising at all that the physical changes may be disturbing. I’m no obstetrician but I have treated pregnant women before.”

“…I… thought about reaching out to Doctor Delecroix… I hadn’t talked to her in a while, but she always makes time for me if I need it…” Aura admitted, hesitantly. Aura’s therapist was a big believer in the power of the internet and was more than willing to have video chats with patients if they couldn’t make it to her office in Zuzu City, even a patient she was no longer seeing regularly, such as Aura.

“If you think it will help, then you should.” She’d stopped trembling, at least. “You’re not doing this alone,” Harvey added. “It will be a big change, it’s true… but it’s a change we’ll navigate together.”

“Just… just admitting how I’ve been feeling… It does help, a little…” Aura said slowly. “I’m still scared, but…right now, at least… I feel… I feel a little better… I…” She hesitated a moment. “I do want this baby, you know… I just… I didn’t expect to have all these mixed feelings.”

Harvey pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’re doing this together,” He repeated. He’d say it as often as he had to. “We’re not just a team, we’re a family. No matter what happens. You, me, the little one…” There was a soft thud and a little “mrrrp” as Murphy returned to the bed, making his way to Aura’s lap and purring as Harvey stroked his head. “And him,” Harvey added. “We’d never forget you,” he said with a chuckle as the cat shoved his blocky head up into Harvey’s hand.

“I was so afraid that you’d be hurt if I admitted how I’ve been feeling…that… that was the worst part…” Aura said quietly, rubbing at her cheeks again. “I’m sorry if you were…”

“I was only worried about you,” Harvey said as they took turns petting the cat, who settled into a happy loaf on Aura’s lap, reveling in the attention. “Please don’t ever suffer in silence… our little one has a lot of growing to do yet, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep her mother happy.”

“Her?” Aura chuckled. “We can’t possibly know the sex yet. Besides, I thought all men wanted sons.”

Harvey shrugged. “Whenever I imagine it… I see a girl. Someone who will grow up as strong and beautiful and brave as her mother.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Though I wouldn’t say no to eventually having an assortment.”

She snorted and tilted her head a bit so she could kiss him lightly. “How about we make sure everyone survives this one before we talk about assortments… I’m still not loving the physical side of all this. I’m afraid I may be difficult to live with the next several months…I’ll… I’ll try my best to not be a complete monster.”

“Just be honest with me about your feelings, and I’ll extend you the same courtesy.” It was Harvey’s turn to initiate a kiss, brief and tender though it was.

“I…I should get back out there…” Aura said reluctantly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Got a few things that need doing before the day’s over.”

Harvey wanted to argue, to insist that she stay in and rest, but he didn’t have the heart to try to cage her now. “Go and do whatever you need to do… just be careful, please… and I’ll have a bath and dinner waiting for you when you get back.” He caught her hand as she nudged the cat off her lap and stood up. “And as for whether or not the baby will hurt our relationship… of course I can’t see the future, but… I can’t imagine any outcome apart from loving you more.” Harvey felt his cheeks heating in the familiar old blush that she could manifest in him with little more than a smile.

“I…” Aura gave a brittle little laugh and pulled his knuckles to her lips, giving them a brief kiss. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“I’ve told you before that you should let me be the judge of that.” Harvey answered as she quickly wound her hair into a loose braid.

“And you’ll… you’ll tell me if you have things you’re worried about, right? Or if I do or say something to hurt you? You won’t suffer in silence either?” She asked pointedly.

“I promise,” Harvey answered as she headed towards the door. “I love you, Aura.”

She paused at the doorway and blew him a kiss with a weary chuckle. “I love you, too, Harvey. Thank you… for being you. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

Harvey smiled as she left the room, listening to her footsteps fade. Murphy shoved his head against Harvey’s arm, and he gave the cat a stroke. “Well, boy… life isn’t simple even when you do have everything you want,” he said to the cat. “But we’ll just have to do our best and look after each other… it’s all anyone can do, I suppose.”

#my fic #farmer aura #stardew harvey #pregnancy cw

[mythandlaur]

whatever the cost whether it works out or not i’ll follow you, i’ll follow you with my heart

OC-tober Day 1 - Journey Prompt list by oc-growth-and-development

Fandom: Warframe Canon Characters: Spoiler Character (Cephalon Fragments) Original Characters: Istha Merreth Warnings: None

Notes: Soooo, I’m doing this! Not sure how consistent I’ll be, but I at least want to throw out some short things for it. And no, this isn’t going in any main tags and I’m not mentioning the blog because hahahaha...haha...h a haha...

-

Things had never been terribly easy for them, it’s true--but their circumstances had only weighed harder on them in recent years, as the Orokin Empire’s growing stranglehold on the system and the clan’s deserted location made it harder and harder to keep people fed on their own. All they really had going for them was their steel and their freedom, and, though she did not wish to say it, she harbored doubts that the golden bastards wouldn’t come for both of those things sooner rather than later. The Orokin couldn’t stand anyone not under their control.

But that was a problem for the future. The current problem was supplies, which mostly came from other settlements on other planets. And, while they could occasionally pay passage on ships with “mercenary” work, it was harder to get into the heart of Orokin territory in such a way.

Which was why Istha is currently sitting in a shipping container in the cargo bay of a dingy Grineer mercantile transport vessel.

The Grineer were often chosen as ferries for goods within the empire, as they were less likely to sell said goods than the Corpus--and, for the purposes of herself and her companion, they were much easier to infiltrate. Not that she’d ever personally done it before, but he apparently had some experience with it, and she was willing to trust him on this.

What she wasn’t willing to trust him on was how long they were intended to stay in the damn boxes. Istha lets out a long sigh and tries not for the first time to shift into a more comfortable position; her feet hit the wall while her head hits the inside corner and she groans in growing frustration. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but she’s starting to lose her patience, and kicks one of the metal crate walls as best she can, letting out a satisfying clang. She hopes that will serve as enough of an indication to her partner that she wants out.

There’s a long silence, and then a muffled, matching clang from somewhere nearby. Istha decides to take this as an affirmative and begins to push her lid open. The Grineer weren’t always the best at handling their cargo, and so her own crate had wound up on its side (luckily for both her and the Grineer who’d set down the box, as most fragile cargo could not brace its feet and arms into the walls and wait for a safe moment to crawl to the newly-reoriented ground).

It doesn’t take long for Istha to force the crate open, and she crawls out on her hands and knees into the cargo bay proper. The cargo bay isn’t much brighter than the inside of the crate, but in the emergency lighting, she can make out the glint of a crimson blade sticking out of the top of a crate in the next row, and she grins.

Yeah, she figured he was starting to go insane, too.

He hadn’t gotten as lucky as her with his crate’s orientation, so she watches as he laboriously pries the lid open and pushes it back so it’s barely balancing on one of the crate’s walls. The sword is thrown over the edge so he doesn’t impale himself on it, before he lifts himself over the edge as well, balancing awkwardly on his stomach and trying to get his hands to reach the ground. Istha covers her mouth to try and hide her snickering, but this quickly dissolves into full-on laughter as he loses his balance and tumbles onto the ground in an awkward somersault, ending up on his back.

It takes Istha several seconds to calm down enough to speak. “I am forever grateful that you chose to train me.”

He drags himself into a sitting position, glaring at her with a sort of muffled growl that just makes her burst out laughing again, doubling over on herself. Blood and bone, she thunks to herself, I was trapped in there too long.

“If you’re finished.”

Istha snorts, but slowly manages to pull herself together and sit up properly, though she still throws a smirk in his direction. “I liked the landing. Is it a new technique?”

“You know me, the notorious blade in a box.” He huffs a sigh, but she catches a quiet chuckle following it. “You all right?”

“Pretty much.” Istha stretches her arms over her head. “How do you do this?”

“Usually, about the same way we did it this time. Except once or twice when I went on these trips I was smaller.”

Istha wraps her arms around herself as the chill of the cargo bay hits her. At least the air is somewhat less recycled, but the ambient temperature makes her question just how much steel the Grineer actually put between the cargo bay and the ravenous void of space. “How far do you think we are?”

He shrugs. “We had an early stop, that was probably the Phobos station, and we should’ve translated once already. Maybe Europa?”

Istha winces, but looks away quickly to try and hide it. It’s not a big portion of the trip, but she already feels like she’s missed so much. She’d never seen a ship void translate before. “So a while yet to Uranus, then.”

“Yes. What’s wrong.” She can feel his piercing gaze on her and hunches her shoulders. Damn it, was she that obvious? “Body language,” he adds, again as if reading her mind. “You’re defensive. Lacking confidence.”

Istha scrunches her face up in frustration and makes a conscious effort to open up her posture towards him. Confident, but not stupid. You hold your chest high, but never, ever forget that it’s a target.

“...I’ve never been off-planet before,” Istha admits. She’d learned a long time ago that it was useless to lie to him; he was much too good at reading the little twitches and quirks of others. It was part of what made him as capable a warrior as he was--he could read his opponents like a book without even thinking about it, while she was often more...single-minded. “Mama told me that we used to move around a lot more. Pack everyone up on a ship and hop to another planet.”

“You know I can’t remember the last time we did that, either.” Right, she often forgets that he’s not really that old--not much older than her. “But I know that was when there were less of us, and there was more of the system out there.”

“Golden bastards,” she grumbles, and he nods in understanding. The Orokin had gotten a reputation for destroying most everything they touched, not that anyone would say it within earshot of a Dax. “Do you really think these trips will be enough?”

“For now, they have to be.” His tone is grim and brokers no argument. “What troubles you.”

Istha sticks out her tongue in his direction. Stubborn as a mule, all the better to match with her. “You’re not going to be dissuaded, are you.”

He smiles. “No.”

“Couldn’t we go up top? Smash a few heads, look out the window?”

“Let’s see, there’s about...a hundred Grineer on this ship, and two of us.” He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow knowingly. “We shouldn’t, not with those numbers. Wouldn’t want them to feel too bad about themselves.”

Istha barks a laugh, but it’s short-lived. “Seriously. We could handle them.”

“We could. But the Grineer like their manual ships, no fancy Orokin navigational system or what-have-you. Can’t risk the pilot dying.”

“Don’t you know how to pilot?”

His eyelids lower. “Istha. I wouldn’t be caught dead flying this kind of bucket.”

“Well...” She shrugs. “I could probably figure it out.”

“Don’t. For the sake of all that is still good in this system, don’t try to figure it out.”

Istha grins, languidly leaning forward so her chin rests on her hands. “Have a little faith in me, friend~”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you worried I’d put you to shame?”

“I’m worried that I would be caught dead in this bucket.”

Istha lets the sly act dropp, shifting so her cheek rests on one palm. “Really, though. I don’t want to go my whole life without seeing the stars from here, you know?”

He presses his lips together into a thin line, and glances off to where one of the far walls of the cargo bay should be. Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline.

“...We’d have to wait,” he cautions. “Can’t risk springing something like that too early.”

“But you want to.”

“I may want to put some Grineer in their place. That’s all.”

He folds his arms, ostensibly shutting her down, but Istha’s eyes crinkle in amusement as he continues to stare into the distance--she knows she’s going to get exactly what she wants, and she’s not even going to have to drag him along behind her. He knows it, too, judging by the faint turn to his lips he tries to tamp down.

If waiting is his only condition, she’s willing to go along with it, just as long as she gets out of the cargo bay. Really, she doesn’t mind the waiting now that she’s out of that crate and with him, even if they sit in silence for most of it.

She’ll pass the journey entertained by the mental images of the surprised looks on the Grineer’s faces when they realize what they’ve done, and that’s quite enough for her.

And she isn’t actually going to try and pilot the ship.

...Probably.

#this is a mess that ends abruptly but i needed something

[the-witty-pen-name]

Rest Pt. 1

Mando x F!Morellian! Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 3rd person; When the Mandolorian is searching for parts on Arvala-7, he encounters someone who may be able to help him on his journey. 

Warnings: none/mentions of injury and brief mention of character death; 18+ in later chapters

A/N: This was meant to be a one shot but this probably going to be 3 parts. I also ignored canon for this one. I tried my best to research Morellians for this fic to make sure its accurate, but it may not be perfectly accurate to canon. I just wrote this up cause I wanted to write today, but take a break from Deadbeat, even though you can expect Part 7 very soon!

If I miss something that I should include as a warning, please let me know!

This is also unedited! 

Tags and Requests are OPEN

He was so tired, all the time. It was such a constant feeling that he had forgotten what it felt like getting a good night’s rest. He’d allow himself to sleep a few hours here and there, but his normal was pushing his body constantly until he was exhausted and then some.

It was caused by many things- the nature of his job, his own paranoia, and even just the sheer uncomfortableness of his small bunk on the Crest. Now, there was the Child. The little green creature taking his free moments of rest more and more. In his mind, it was never a debate- the kid always came first. He didn’t give a second thought to how he was sacrificing his own wellness, and frankly if he did ever think about it, he’d come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t care.

His ability to sleep had gotten worse, with his inability to stop worrying about the Child. He would now force himself to stay awake for several days on end, too worried about if something would happen while he was asleep and his guard was down. The Child would sleep through the night, and Mando would sit up on his bunk, just watching the little creature’s breaths rise and fall, and he would have his eyes glued to the closed door of his bunk prepared for a threat that never came.

When the pair reached Arvala-7, he was in a zombie like state from lack of sleep. His body was on autopilot as his feet dragged across the planet’s surface, the Child securely following behind in his floating pram. The Mandolorian was very hyperaware of the heaviness of his armor, and the way the helmet irritated his skin more than normal. From his outward appearance, no one would know just how close he was to falling over from exhaustion. For the sake of the Child, he kept pushing himself forward, always making false promises of rest if he could just make it to the next location.

“You need rest,” Kuiil declared as he observed the Mandolorian walk towards him.

“I’m fine,” Mando deflected, a little annoyed at how well the Ugnaught could read him, even hidden under his armor.

“I have spoken.” Mando sighed, the exhale of air distorted by the modulator of his helmet. He walks past his friend and walks into his small domicile, with the baby not far behind him.

“I shall watch the Child,” Kuiil states affirmatively before Mando can object. Mando nods, defeated, finally realizing he will rest whether he wants to or not. “I will feed him and wake you when it is time,” he continues.

Mando doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He didn’t dream and he wakes up with a terrible crick in his neck. He doesn’t feel rested, just stressed and his body is still tense. He stirs from his spot and walks back out. He’s panicked because Kuiil and the Child are no where in sight. He only relaxes when he sees the two of them outside, Kuiil tinkering on a project and the Child playing with some parts Kuiil had discarded on the ground.

“You must rest,” Kuiil reiterated. Mando shook his head. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for but he imagined it was long enough. “It hasn’t been even twenty minutes.”

“I just needed a power nap,” Mando says, not letting his friend talk him into another nap. He was fine. He just needed to work on the ship and he’d rest when they were back on course. “I need to work on the ship, I need to go get some parts,” he states. “Please watch him, I will be back tonight.”

Kuiil doesn’t say anything, just nods, knowing that no matter what he says the Mandolorian was too stubborn for his own good. He borrows Kuiil’s land speeder, and heads to the very small almost abandoned town that’s a decent trek away from Kuiil’s moisture farm. The air is very heavy, and the heat was weighing heavy on his eyelids. He felt like there was a pressure around him that was pushing him to sleep, but he was successful in avoiding it.

He looks over and sees there’s one establishment that looks like its open. He decides to wander in and see if anyone knows where he can buy the parts he needs. As the door to the establishment slides open, he realizes that it is some sort of cantina, with low lights and low music playing from a live band in the corner of the room.

There’s a circular bar in the center of the space, and he approaches the bartender. His mind his hazy, and he almost forgets why he’s there in the first place. Fortunately, his outer appearance makes him look more menacing than he feels in this moment. Customers at the bar speak in hushed tones as he approaches. He doesn’t even notice, the fogginess caused by his lack of sleep is affecting his power of observation.

“Where can I go to get ship parts?” he asks.

“Jawas,” the man chuckles sarcastically, like the question itself was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“There’s no where else?” He asks, frustrated.

“Not anywhere you can travel to in a day,” the man replies. Mando sighs, realizing he’d have to return to the ship empty handed. He can’t let it go another day. He needed to get off this planet.

“Give me directions.”

“There’s no where besides here that can offer you lodging, you can’t make it there on a speeder without stopping.”

“Directions.”

The man sighs and reluctantly gives the Mandolorian the coordinates he needs. With a gruff thank you, the Mandolorian leaves the bar, and gets back to the speeder. Kuiil would understand. Kuiil probably already knew the journey ahead of him and Mando was too stubborn to take his friend’s advice before leaving.

If he didn’t stop to rest, Mando figured he could get to the location by the next day if he drove fast. It seemed like a good idea to him at the time. It was the most time effective option he had. It was entirely different in practice, driving alone in the dark and his eyes becoming more and more heavy. He also never anticipated the wear it would cause the speeder, and he cursed as the thing was gradually slowing down until it came to a complete stop.

It was too dark to try to work on fixing it, even though he tried anyways. Even with his visor aiding his vision in the darkness, it was fruitless. He’d have to wait it out. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep. What if he was found by Jawas and they’d strip the speeder, or maybe they would steal his armor. It wasn’t something that he was willing to risk. So, he stupidly decided to work on the speeder without being able to see properly and assess his surroundings.

His thoughts were only on the Child and returning to him as quickly as possible. It made his actions irrational and careless. Which is why he scraps his arm on the metal of the speeder as he tinkered. The cut is deep, and it stings. He curses at his own stupidity and desperately tries to just apply pressure to his arm with his other hand. The material was old, dirty and rusted and it caused a deep wound.

He sits down on the ground, trying to make himself a tourniquet by ripping at his underclothes. He’s breathing heavy, and he knows that he is losing blood and he had no way to clean out the wound. He’s stranded and he can only think about the Child. Needing to just stay conscious long enough to think himself a plan out of this situation, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

He thrashes when he awakes, taking in his new unknown surroundings. It was a similar abode to Kuiil’s but it was obviously not the farm he was familiar with. He looks down at his arm, seeing the wound has been bandaged and treated, and his glove, and other pieces of his armor that needed to be removed to treat the injury sat on the floor waiting for him. He felt lighter, and more aware. Hell, he felt awake for the first time in a while. He felt rested. If it weren’t for the worry of waking up in a strange place, he’d feel good.

Before he was able to decide if he wanted to venture out of this bedroom, his thoughts were interrupted when another figure walked in. They were moving quietly, and Mando knew they were moving so that they wouldn’t disturb him. He sat up, letting them know he was awake and then he turned to look at them.

The young woman was standing holding a tray of food. She was nervous, but not scared of him, Mando was able to observe. It had also been a long time since he was in the presence of someone so easy on the eyes, and it made him nervous as well. She was very pretty, and easily one of the best things he’s got to see in a long time. He wasn’t sure what to say, not wanting to scare her off, so he waited for her to speak first.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said apologizing. “But I wanted to bring you this.” She leaves the tray on a small table next to the bed.

“T-thanks,” he stuttered, not sure what questions he could think to ask first.

“You were passed out next to your speeder,” she explained. “I found you early this morning. Your speeder is outside. You’ve been asleep here for about twelve hours… I don’t know how long you were outside before that.”

He nods, trying to still wrap his head around the situation.

“I’m sorry for taking off the armor,” she continues, “I didn’t take off your helmet! I know Mandolorians keep those on, I wasn’t sure if it was okay that I took off the pieces I needed to get to your cut.”

“That’s fine,” he said softly, “Thank you. It is really just the helmet that I can’t take off.”

“All of your stuff is there,” she points to where his bag and pieces of armor sit on the floor in a neat pile. He nods.

“Um, that’s pretty much it,” she says awkwardly trying to remember if there was something else that she needed to tell him. “You’re wound is fine, once it was cleaned up it wasn’t as bad as I thought. You really were just exhausted over anything else; I think. I’ll let you eat, I promise I won’t come back in until you tell me, so you can take off your helmet… There’s no one else here but me so you’re safe- you can even lock yourself in if you want. I don’t mind.”

“You’re being really accommodating,” he says suspiciously, not use to the hospitality. It worried him.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, his words reminding her of what she forgot, “I had contacted by Kuiil- told me to look out for you, that a friend of his- a Mandolorian would be coming my way in need of lodging. When you never came, that’s when I went looking for you.”

“You know Kuiil?” he asks, relieved he wasn’t completely with a stranger. He was, obviously, but he was at ease knowing he was with someone Kuiil trusted.

She nodded. “You can stay as long as you need. He said your son can stay with him as long as you need. I’ll let you eat,” she said, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

He was taken aback at how kind she was towards him. She was so trusting and just let him into her home and helped him. Granted, it was because he was vouched for by Kuiil, but still. He also was flushed at how attractive she was. It made him nervous, he was so used to being along that he didn’t know how to handle himself around a woman- especially one that he thought was just so- so nice to look at. He felt foolish, and he was so confused at how easily that girl flustered him. It was just that she was kind, he tries to reason with himself. He’s just not use to the hospitality. He wasn’t flustered cause she was pretty, no absolutely not.

He took a moment and then resolved it was safe to take off his helmet so he could eat. He usually rushed through meals, just so he could get the helmet secured back on his head. But he felt comfortable here, and he allowed himself the luxury of taking his time, enjoying the unfiltered air. He looked around the room, and it was mostly bare, which isn’t surprising. The bed was comfortable, much better than his bunk on the Crest and better than the little spot in Kuiil’s dwelling.

He just felt guilty. He shouldn’t be resting when the Child is waiting for his return, and he still hasn’t retrieved parts for the ship. And here he was getting comfortable like was on some vacation. He quickly finished his food and put on his armor, ignoring the sting putting it on affected the cut under the bandages. He placed his helmet on and then left the bedroom.

“They’ll be here soon,” she announces when he emerges from the room. It stops him dead in his tracks. He didn’t know what you meant.

“Who?”

“Kuiil and your son,” she explains, “I just reached out to Kuiil, letting you know you were awake. He insisted he’d bring the kid to you. He thought you’d leave and strain yourself trying to get back too early. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

He chuckles, and is astonished at how well his friend seems to be able to anticipate his every move. “He’s right,” he sighed, sitting down across from her at the small dining table.

“He’s very wise,” she agrees. There are a few minutes of silence that cause an awkward tension to arise between the two of them.

“I’m (y/n),” she says. “Just realized I never introduced myself,” she says sheepishly.

“You can call me Mando,” he replies. She nods. There’s a mutual understanding between the two that says there’s no need for small talk.

“Is your child also a Mandolorian?” she asks curiously.

“No, he’s not,” he responds. He’s used to people pestering him with questions but he usually gets annoyed. He actually this time was happy that she wanted to know about him, and he was asking about the kid. For some reason, it felt different. There was no judgement or fear, just her genuine curiosity. She doesn’t press him to elaborate, which puts his mind at ease, and he’s relaxed.

“Are you married?” she asks next.

“No- no,” he says hurriedly. He feels foolish for how the question flusters him. It’s a perfectly reasonable question. It was just the natural assumption when she knows he has a kid, but not the context of how he’s a father. He also feels embarrassed at the desire to let her know he’s single. It’s stupid, he chastises himself. He was being ridiculous.

“He’s a foundling,” he explains simply. “He’s not actually mine. I’m not married.”

“Can Mandolorians get married?” she follows up.

“Yes, of course,” he says. She nods, and gets up from her seat.

“I have to check on the vaporators,” she announces. “I suggest you try to get more rest, but if you want to follow, you’re more than welcome to.”

When she moves, he notices the odd, cylindrical weapon fixed on the side of her hip. He trusts her, so it doesn’t worry him, but it is something he wants to ask her about.

“What is that?” he asks, following her out of her house and out into the dry air. She looks to where the gaze of his visor is fixated.

“It’s my light saber,” she says simply, not expanding on her answer much like how he did.

“Are- are you a Jedi?” he asks, his head tilting.

“I’m a moisture farmer,” she chuckles.  

“I thought all the Jedi were gone,” he says, his eyes following her.

“They are,” you explained simply, “I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“Did you fight in the war?” he asks. She looked young, and he was incredibly puzzled. Maybe her species was humanoid, but she aged slowly, like the Child.

“Clone Wars,” she states, confirming his suspicion. She was older than him, but she looked younger. “I’m Morellian. We don’t age the same as humans.”

“How old are you?”

“Forties? I don’t know. I haven’t really done the math in a while,” she shrugs. He chuckles, he felt the same way about his own age. He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but he was fairly certain that they were roughly the same age, even though his signs of aging showed on his skin more than her.

“How long have you been here?” He asks.

“How long has it been since the end of the Clone Wars?”

“That long?”

“All the Jedi needed to go into hiding,” she states.

“Are you the only one?”

“I don’t know. The only man I knew I heard died, killed by Vadar,” she says solemnly. “Supposedly, he took on a new apprentice, but I don’t know where I could find him if I wanted to.”

“Can you use the Force?” he asks, thinking now about his own task that lays before him with the Child.

“Yes,” she replies simply, holding back a smile and a sarcastic comment.

“The Child- my son,” he says, a little overwhelmed how easily he stumbled upon you. “I’m supposed to bring him to a Jedi- bring him back to his people.”

“You need to bring him to a Jedi?” she asks skeptically. He nods.

“He has- these, um, powers,” he tries to explain, “Moving things that are physically impossible, healing- it’s nothing I have ever seen.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You said you aren’t a Jedi.”

“But I’m probably the closest you’ll find.”

Part Two

#mando x reader #the mandolorian #mandolorian imagine #mando x you #mando x y/n #mandolorian one shot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #x reader #star wars imagine #star wars one shot

[mira--mira]

One obvious for the ask game. The main protagonist; Naruto Uzumaki and Izuku Midoriya.

@shiryusamarkanda it’s so nice to hear from you again! <3 

I totally didn’t forget to post this and had it fully finished in my drafts for days...totally. 

Naruto

What I love about them:

Naruto's a bratty kid who’s not afraid to speak up and challenge something he thinks is "wrong". This, of course, is part 1 Naruto. I actually like when he's a bit insensitive without being explicitly malicious bc its very fitting for his background/how he grew up but also gives him a clear path forward as he learns how to work as a team/starts to grow. It wasn’t exactly a smart move, but I really liked how he continued to challenge Zabuza in the Wave Arc saying “he’s still my enemy” after Kakashi told him to back off. This is all good and strong characterization that, to me, was more often endearing than it wasn’t. Naruto had goals and a purpose and in early Naruto that was still clear.

What I hate about them:

Part 2 (Shippuden) Naruto. There’s a lot that goes into this but the core deviation is getting away from the underdog story. In Shippuden Naruto is the son of the 4th, the Child of Prophecy, a reincarnation of the Sage of Six Path’s kid, makes friends with Kurama, and has the most OP power of the them all: Talk no Jutsu. What makes all of this even worse is Naruto went from a loveable bratty kid to an insufferable messiah figure. To be “perfect” his natural personality is shorn down until he’s only allowed occasional “stupid” mistakes rather than mistakes that emerge from his characterization. This also makes his ideological “wins” with villains...completely meaningless. Shippuden Naruto doesn’t really...have beliefs. He wants to be hokage and bring Sasuke back to the village. “Being hokage” was fine as a kid but I expected the progression into shippuden to be “what kind of hokage do I want to be?” This seemed natural bc we get in the Wave arc Naruto pushing against “what a shinobi is supposed to be: a tool” from Haku and declaring he’d make his own ninja way. Flashforward to the chunin arcs: hates Orochimaru for messing with Sasuke (esp when he eventually leaves to join him) and Neji for treating Hinata the way he did until he learned more about the Hyuga before declaring it wasn’t fair and you had to fight against fate and destiny. Tsunade’s arc was more about reemphasizing the village was something worth protecting and the Sasuke retrieval arc, while focused on Sasuke, at least kept up this theme. But these moments of growth are only alluded to in shippuden and by the time the war arc and ending come around...nothing changes. Naruto didn’t upset the status quo, he only maintained it. And once that ending was established it was a lot easier to go back and pick out exactly when his characterization started to fall through and the weird messiah figure took over instead. Part of this, imo, is the focus of his ultimate goal being “bring Sasuke back to the village” rather than understand what Sasuke is doing/why he’s doing it and then deciding to help him or stop him. 

Favorite Moment/Quote:

“You’re cute when you’re chubby” [in reference to the frog purse] 

I really love the quiet moments Naruto has and watching him live out his daily life. The frog purse is absolutely adorable and I love seeing it crop up time and time again. A close second is when Gai kicks Jiraiya in the face and, a short time later, offers Naruto the green tracksuit which he’s appreciative of. 

What I would like to see more focus on:

In Part 2 Naruto having a long-term goal alongside bringing Sasuke back to the village or trying to seriously think about why Sasuke does what he does and how that would potentially affect the plot. If I could go back to the very start, keeping the actual heart and intent of an underdog ninja story rather than everything turning into superpowered mecha/kaiju battles and aliens from space this is the big point that I’d want to address. In general, I really like fics that focus on training and give him a range of jutsu besides spamming shadow clones and rasengan variants. I’ve said this before, but if Naruto really wants to keep the “number 1 unpredictable ninja” moniker, learning a variety of small, diverse jutsu and using them in interesting/creative ways would be the way to go rather than spamming the aforementioned two. I also really like fics that buckle down and just go ham and create their own variety of jutsu, especially if it’s small practical jutsu rather than the latest and greatest OP Power #839281 kind of jutsu. 

What I would like to see less focus on:

The messiah figure. Talk no Jutsu. The obsession with having a morally pure hero in a world that routinely employed child soldiers and put them in war. I understand Naruto was a shonen manga first and foremost but like...this was the setting/world Kishimoto decided on having. However, I will say some fics take it to far on the other extreme for my taste, creating a edgy nihilistic Naruto that hates everyone and everything. 

Favorite pairing with:

Uhh...I don’t actually have a strong feeling for this one LOL. The most I’ve read has been SasuNaru (Sasuke x Naruto) because I’ve found really interesting set-ups. I like the ship and it does have a decent amount of backing in canon but it’s the little moments (or my ability to see possible little moments) that really make or break a ship for me. SasuNaru is all Big Declarations and I struggle to see how they’d actually settle down post Shippuden time into something sustainable. My favorite iterations of the ship is focused when they’re genin age and have a better relationship...but then I recognize that this is getting closer and closer to Hashimada. The other big things I run into with shipping Naruto with Sasuke is 1. Sasuke needs a shit ton of therapy/willingness to process his family related trauma and 2. Naruto needs a good support network/family outside of a romantic partner because it personally makes me uncomfortable to read ‘you’re my one and only’ (here being: I have no other friends, family, loved ones outside of you). It’s a ship that can work but it’s not my personal OTP.  

Favorite friendship:

Canon/OoT - Naruto & Sakura

I do have a softspot for fics where Naruto realizes his crush on Sakura is actually a desire to have friends/someone to care about him and then they do become close. In canon Sasuke was clearly the favorite of Kakashi (if chunin arc is kept the same/similar and he takes him away for the month to train) I really like Naruto and Sakura sticking together and trying to help each other. They’re both loud and can wind each other up but Naruto can help Sakura relax a bit from her rigid view of herself and she can help keep him on track/encourage him. 

NOTP:

Again, no real strong opinions here. Probably harems? I remember seeing a lot of those a couple years ago and I fundamentally dislike the harem so it will never be ‘done well’ to my personal taste. 

Favorite headcanon:

Naruto is smart, he just needs things to be explained in a way he can understand. 

I’m not a fan of ‘he’s the smartest person in the entire world’ trope but Naruto is creative, he created the oiroke jutsu before he graduated to genin and has a lot of stubborn determination. He’s just really bad at typical ‘book learning’ and traditional testing and he’s not a genius/prodigy like Sasuke or Neji.

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Read line for BNHA manga spoilers

Izuku

What I love about them:

He’s such a smart kid and while he’s unsure/insecure about himself he still does his best. Honestly the premise of BNHA is amazing and I was so excited to watch this little quirky (heh) boy do his best and outthink heroes, utilizing his intelligence and knowledge of quirks. I really love early Izuku and how he has to approach situations from a different angle bc he grew up quirkless/can’t properly handle OFA. The sports festival arc remains one of my personal favorites and really showed his ingenuity. I also really love that Izuku is openly emotional, he cries, he gets super happy about things, he’s angry, he’s sad, etc.  

What I hate about them:

Why do stories insist on calling themselves “underdogs” when for a majority of the time, they’re not? Or not as much as they would be from the original premise? Look, TDP came about exactly bc BNHA was billed as ‘quirkless boy becomes number 1 hero’ it changed rapidly into ‘Izuku gets the strongest quirk but can’t control it’ and while I was...disappointed with that, it happened so quickly I wasn’t really upset. Fast forward to apparently OFA has...what seven(?) quirks inside it and I just...it’s frustrating. Even more the longer we go the more Izuku strays away from a character that is forced to use his intelligence and creatively outthink his opponents and instead becomes...I just have to hit him harder! The Muscular fight already inched towards this but the Overhaul fight just felt like Super Shonen Smack-down 728329. Which, isn’t an inherent problem, it just doesn’t match up to the expectations I had about BNHA I had at the start and how I hoped the series would go. For a character trait that I hate: Izuku is stupidly self-sacrificing. It makes sense with his character but he shoots beyond what is safe and reasonable and I wish there would be more internal emphasis on the question “is it better to save one person today if it meant I couldn’t save ten people tomorrow?” I think he’d choose the former or forsake the question altogether (we touched briefly on this during the overhaul arc with Eri) but I think it’s a serious question needs to be touched on (or I just need to go back and rewatch things again LOL) 

Favorite Moment/Quote:

See entire sports festival arc. I don’t really have a favorite moment because I love the entire arc and we get so much out of it. 

What I would like to see more focus on:

Quirkless Izuku. There’s already a lot of fics, but I really do love them. It deviates a bit, but I do like the creativity of giving Izuku his own unique quirk and then exploring what he can do with that/how it changes canon. Really I want Izuku to keep his original characterization and not trade his smarts for more punching power or deus ex machinas for quirks hidden inside of OFA. If OFA!Izuku is kept, I like story ideas where he still has to rely on means outside of his quirk. Preferably this is isn’t because he injuries himself so much, but I like toying with the idea that Izuku never gets OFA to All Might’s level so he really does have to make the quirk his own and still rely heavily on his intelligence and quirk journals to become the number 1. 

What I would like to see less focus on:

Quirks hidden inside OFA. Strength should have been enough, it was already billed as the most powerful quirk of all. I know this is a common theme for shonen stories, and I don’t mean to harp specifically on Izuku, but again the premise of BNHA was an underdog story. 

Favorite pairing with:

Tododeku (Todoroki Shouto x Midoriya Izuku) 

Friends to lover and battle couples lads, I am weak to them. I like the contrast between their personalities as well as origins (Shouto being the number 2′s (now 1) kid and Izuku from a quiet civilian background). At the end of the sports festival arc both of them are extremely well characterized and it’s easy for me to imagine how their relationship progresses from there and how they can support each other and help each other grow. It’s a very sweet and wholesome ship the way I write and read it and it’s v cute.

Favorite friendship:

Canon- Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochaco & Iida Tenya

I really like the core trio and think their interactions are really sweet. They balance each other out well and their friendship was immediately believable to me. I also like later when Tsuyu and Shouto start to get included in the group and out of the “main” core friends I’m endlessly entertained whenever Izuku and Tokoyami interact with one another. (This is also because I love my bird son, but you know.)

TDP - Midoriya Izuku & Ashido Mina or Midoriya Izuku & Hatsume Mei

Really, I love all of TDP’s kiddos interactions. Their chemistry is one of my favorite things about the fic and all the villain school kiddos meshed really well and had hilarious interactions. Mina and Mei are my faves but just barely. Mina came out of left field for the fic but she plays a similar role that Ochaco does in canon as a usual source of positivity (but unlike Ochaco with additional chaos). She’s Izuku’s first real friend even before starting HIVVE and wouldn’t hesitate to call Izuku her cousin as she views him as family. In return, Mina’s someone Izuku can completely count and depend on if necessary. Mei is...Mei. Izuku is her best “useful customer” and it’s actually terrifying how similar their thoughts are, just Mei has an (un)healthy dose of Hazmat’s insanity and her own business acumen added into the mix. They have slightly different fields of interest but are intellectual equals that work well together and that’s something new to both of them.

NOTP:

Bakudeku (Bakugo Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku)

It’s unhealthy. Unless it’s an AU that changes what the start of their relationship is like, Bakugo and Izuku will always have a toxic friendship to me and I can’t ever see them in a healthy relationship. Both of them have a lot to learn and I am of the opinion that Bakugo should get the opportunity to grow and become a good person and leave behind his past as a bully. However, I’m also of the opinion that no matter how good of a person a bully becomes their victim is never required to absolve them of past wrongdoings. Izuku and Bakugo were friends once, their relationship turned toxic, and now it’s in the interest of both of them to grow apart from one another. I even hesitate to really say they’ll be friends again because the early characterization of their relationship was so imbalanced to me, but for the right author and the right work I may see them being on good terms. It’s still a romantic relationship that I dislike. 

Favorite headcanon:

Crack headcanon? Izuku does have a natural quirk, the force of his tears is clearly superpowered 😂 Regular headcanon, (that is canon in TDP and kindaaa in regular canon(?)) when Izuku gets really engrossed in a super stressful fight he focuses on what will work rather than what is moral. It has...mixed results. 

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For the ask game. 

#shiryusamarkanda #naruto #bnha #mha #naruto uzumaki #izuku midoriya #my fics #the diverging path #out of time #spoliers #bnha manga spoliers #asks

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death

Author: MBM

Summary: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, has died. Voldemort has won, and all his sacrifices were for naught. Surprisingly, the one who is angriest about it is his own Grim Reaper because his third time wasn’t a charm after all. He’s got to convince his Reaper that he’s worth betting on one last time, knowing that if he fails again, they’re both screwed.

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue: The Show Must Go On (1/?)

HOW often had he seen that flash of green fill his vision? He had relived that fateful night so often throughout his seventeen years that he had long ago lost count. Now, he blinks his eyes open, trying to remember where he’d fallen asleep. Were they still in the tent? No, Bill and Fleur’s beach cottage? It would explain why everything is so bright. But as he blinks, squinting as he expected everything around him to appear blurry as they always did when he didn’t wear his glasses, he is surprised to find that he’s not in any cottage at all. He has no idea where he is currently.

    “Mr. Potter? Harry Potter?” Harry moves his eyes away from the corner of the otherwise empty white room he’s been looking around, over to where a door has opened and a figure stands. A pair of dark eyes in a brown, androgynous face glares at him from the doorway. “This way, then.”

    They don’t wait to see if he is going to follow, disappearing back through the doorway, and Harry stands up quickly. He wants answers and he figures he’s more likely to get them with that person than he will sitting around in a room by himself. He goes through the open door and into a long hallway with doors lined on either side. The figure who called him is continuing on, their gray robe barely brushing the ground and a hood lying flat against their back. They are halfway down the hall when they stop, look back to see he’s currently coming, and then open the sixth door on their left. When Harry catches up, he sees that they have sat down behind a desk.

    He steps cautiously into the office, his brain trying to make sense of what is going on. Wasn’t he just fighting at Hogwarts? What happened? He’s still disoriented, trying to piece together the events that lead him to be in this unfamiliar place with this stranger.

    “I can’t believe you’re here again ,” the person says, waving a hand towards one of the chairs in front of their desk, indicating Harry should sit as they continue, tone clearly exasperated, “ **already **.”

    “Where is ‘here’, precisely?” Harry questions, slowly sitting down and moving his head only slightly to take in what little else is in the room without actually losing sight of this person.

    “Limbo. Purgatory. The place between. So on and so forth.” They wave their hand in a circular motion to indicate they could go on, then turn to a stack of folders on the right side of their desk. “Basically you’re dead.” They start muttering, ranting really, almost as if they have forgotten Harry’s there as they go through the folders. “Again.” They slap a thing folder they’d picked up on the other side of the desk for emphasis. “Record breaking destined hero, and he can’t even manage to stay alive to confront said destiny.”

    The flash of green , Harry recalls. That’s right, he was hit with the Killing Curse by Voldemort. Again. It wasn’t a memory, it was him dying. Then the implication of what was just said hits him. “Wait, ‘again’? I’ve died before ?”

    A nod. “Yup. Three times before, to be precise.” They pause in their search to tap a finger on a nameplate sitting between them and Harry, drawing the wizard’s attention to it for the first time. Before his eyes, the strange markings morph into letters he recognizes: ‘Maquetauire Guayaba’. “Call me Yaba. You’ll butcher my name otherwise.” Meaning he’d done it before.

    Fair, as Harry couldn’t begin to guess how to accurately say their full name. “Okay, Yaba. You said I’ve been here three times before? So I’ve died-”

    “Four times.” Yaba confirms. “FOUR!” They slap another folder down. “‘Destined Heroes’ was supposed to be an upgrade, you know; less frustrating than Catalysts. Catalysts are unpredictable. Destined heroes have a moral compass . I was well on my way to breaking the record. FIFTEEN straight destined heroes with no failures, but no. You -” Yaba points an accusing finger at Harry, eyes narrowed “-were assigned to me, and instead of defeating your enemies, changing the world for the better, living to some ridiculously old age with your soulmate, and cementing my success as a Reaper, you keep dying . You can’t even keep your soulmate straight! Mixing up some Granger girl with that other one with the G name. Or is it the other way around? I don’t even know anymore!” Yaba throws their hands up in frustration before grabbing another folder. “It’s downright-” they slapped another folder down on their left “-fucking-” and then another “ infuriating !” ending with another loud slap. This time, though, the folder is a thicker one that they smack down in front of themselves.

    Mind racing with questions, and unsure where to even begin, Harry blurts out one word before he’s actively decided to ask any of them. “How?” It seems as good a place as any to start figuring things out, his mind whirling between the astonishing idea that he’s died so often, and the possibly equally surprising revelation that Hermione is his soulmate. Or could be, if Yaba hasn’t mixed her up with Ginny, the only other “G name” Harry can think of at the moment. Unless he means that Slytherin girl, Greengrass? He shakes his head, not wanting to get distracted.

    “How?” Yaba flips the folder in front of them open with a sigh. “Let’s see. This will probably start triggering memories, by the way, so try not to freak out. It’s normal, since this is where your lives converge.” They flip past the first two pages, Harry catching enough of a glimpse to see that even if he wasn’t looking at them upside down, all the information was written in unfamiliar markings he neither recognizes nor can he begin to guess what language or culture they originate from. They have no problem, however, as they stop on the third page. “The first time, you died approximately forty-four days short of your sixteenth birthday, after getting hit by simultaneous dark curses in an attempt to protect your soulmate.”

    Yaba adds more details, giving the location, but Harry’s remembering even as they speak. The Department of Mysteries, with members of Dumbledore’s Army. They had been tricked. No, he had been tricked, into believing that Sirius was in danger and the others had run headlong into danger with him. They had been running through one strange room after another, trying to stay ahead of the Death Eaters, and Hermione had tried to silence one but missed and they’d responded with a dark curse Harry had never heard of but resulted in a whip of dark purple flames heading right for her. He hadn’t stopped to think when he put himself between it and Hermione, his body had just moved and he’d grabbed her, turning them so it struck him in the back. At that same moment, someone else had aimed the Killing Curse at him, and his last memory was of Hermione’s shocked eyes on his. Then he had woken up in the empty white waiting room Yaba had pulled him from.

    “What happened after?” He interrupts, leaning forward in his chair. “Hermione, after I died, did she escape?”

    Yaba looks up from the folder, staring at Harry, annoyed. “What do you think? Not that it matters. It was all undone when I sent you back for your second attempt. That time…” They trail off, flipping through to another page. “Here we go, yes, the second time you go through the Battle of the Department of Mysteries -- what a stupid name -- you managed to get through that whole debacle pretty much unscathed.” Harry frowns, starting to recall his second life and remembering that the second time, although she survives, Hermione was hit with the curse he’d protected her from the first time.

    “Instead, you die at the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. You were knocked out of the tower when you were hit with the Killing Curse. Wait.” Yaba lifts the previous page, squinting at the edge. “No, that was the third time. I remember, that’s one of the times you inexplicably didn’t choose your soulmate. Ah ha, stuck together.” They pull the two pages apart and go back. “The second time you didn’t drink enough Felix Felicis and ended up accidentally drinking some of the Acromantula venom your professor collected.”

    Harry winces, remembering suddenly the way the venom had seemed to burn him from the inside a few minutes after drinking it. When he had been bitten in his fourth year, the effects had been infinitely slower, and less noticeable. “Right. That almost destroyed my magical core. I had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s from the infirmary, and Mrs. Weasley offered to take me home for a few weeks over the summer while I recovered. I was trying to get away from Ginny, who kept trying to get me alone on my birthday, when-”

    “You fell down the stairs and broke your neck.” Yaba is actually grinning . “I’ll admit, that one was kind of funny. It’s like the less interested you are, the more persistent and desperate that girl becomes.” They frown then. “Still, would have preferred you not dying. Then there’s this latest-”

    “-which doesn’t make sense.” Harry interrupts. He’s on the edge of his seat, leaning forward onto the desk. “All those other times, something happened to kill the piece of Voldemort’s soul attached to me. I remember, we talked about it after the second time, ‘cause I was wondering why the venom didn’t kill me when it had basically drained me of almost all my magic and you said it was because it burning through magic attaching Voldemort’s soul to me first kept my last bit of magic from being destroyed.”

    Yaba nods. “Correct. And all the other times, something killed that soul piece first too. Including this time.”

    “How?”

    “You interrupted,” they point out. “This last time, Tom Riddle destroyed his own soul piece, and then you were eaten.”

    Harry blinks. “I was what ?”

    “Eaten.” Yaba repeats, slowly. “The snake passed by you after the curse hit you, felt the warmth of your body, and decided to bite and eat you.”

    “So let me get this straight. I’ve been cursed multiple times, fallen to my doom twice, and then eaten ?”

    Yaba nods. “It’s quite impressive, and if you weren’t making my afterlife miserable, I might even be entertained at all the ways you manage to fail.”

    “Look, I’m trying my best,” Harry argues. “I’m working blind here, and I wouldn’t have ever gone to the damn Department of Mysteries if Dumbledore had just been open with me about what was going on so I didn’t have to keep trying to figure it out through my literal enemy . I mean, a prophecy? They were protecting a prophecy ? And one that basically Voldemort already knew the general gist of? It was such a stupid secret!

    “And that memory he had me try to get from Slughorn! I nearly died getting it, and it was just Slughorn telling Voldemort about Horcruxes. Pointless, and okay, maybe he wasn’t completely aware of it at the time, since he didn’t actually know what Slughorn’s memory was going to be, but his pulling me out of St. Mungo’s and forcing me to go to the Burrow was on him. He kept making comments about Ginny reminding him of my mom and asking how things were going; it was not subtle.”

    Harry suddenly snaps his finger. “Oh! The tower! That killing curse wasn’t even aimed at me, it was aimed at him ! They were trying to kill him and he basically used me as a meat shield!” Harry practically growls, hands balling into fists. “Manipulative bastard, playing everyone like bloody pawns in a chess game. This last time, too. I didn’t know a damn thing about Voldemort’s soul but he did. He’d long suspected, and it was seeing Snape’s memory that gave me that info. Months wasted looking for Horcruxes when I bloody was one.”

    Harry slumped back into the chair, momentarily overwhelmed. Why had he trusted the old wizard so implicitly? Even after knowing that he’s the reason that he was left at the Dursleys’ abusive,neglectful home all his life? It didn’t make a lick of sense, now that he was fully aware of just how many situations throughout his school years Dumbledore had manipulated. It wasn’t to say that the old man was necessarily evil , that was a designation better given to Voldemort and his ilk; but at the very least, the wizard was fairly self-serving.

    Yaba is quiet for a moment, then sighs. “Yes, well, unfortunately for you and my record, Albus Dumbledore is a Catalyst.”

    “A what?” This is the second time Yaba mentions him. “Can you explain? You mentioned that before. And I’m a-”

    “Destined Hero. Essentially, people fall into a bit of a hierarchy, I guess is the simplest way of putting it,” Yaba starts to explain. “Most beings are normal, living fairly normal lives, and they are what we call the Standard. They have no specific destinies, and their lives are shaped by a combination of uncontrollable factors such as where they are born, to whom, when, etcetera, and their choices. Grim Reapers-”

    “Someone like you?” Harry interrupts.

    Yaba shrugs. “Yes and no. To you lot on Earth, we’re all Grim Reapers, and it’s easiest to just go with that. In reality, it’s a bit more complicated. What you imagine, or imagined before dying, as a ‘Grim Reaper’ is really a Soul Reaper. They collect souls after a being dies and bring them to the In-Between. There, they weigh that being’s circumstances against their choices.

    “Catalysts are beings capable of affecting great change. Various villains and heroes throughout history were Catalysts. There is no predicing if they will be good or bad because they tend to live by a complicated set of beliefs. They may begin with good intentions, but be corrupted, or vice versa. Bunch of pain in the asses, to be honest.”

    “I’m assuming both Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore are Catalysts?”

    “Yes. As I said, pain in the asses. A Catalyst in turn causes the existence of a Destined Hero. Sometimes that Hero is just someone who acts like a positive influence in the Catalyst’s life, preventing them from going down a dark path. Sometimes, as in your case, they are opposing forces that cannot coexist and determine the fate of the world.”

    “Lucky me.” Harry grumbles. Granted, he can’t imagine a world in which he would somehow be a “positive influence” on Tom Riddle, thus preventing his becoming Voldemort. “Do Destined Heroes always get multiple tries?”

    Yaba coughs, clears their throat, and looks aside. “Uh, well, no. Usually, if a Hero dies without fulfilling their destiny, they are given a choice: a second chance or acceptance. It’s rare that a Hero didn’t at least try , and even in those cases, it’s often because they died before understanding what their destiny even was . If they accept, they are reunited temporarily with their loved ones in Heaven.”

    “Temporarily?”

    “Yes. You see, eventually, most beings in Heaven forget their lives. Once all of their loved ones have died, there is no longer an attachment to their lives. Heroes who have fulfilled their destiny and lived great lives, along with their loved ones who reach Heaven, are the exception, but that is because where they reside is like an upper level of Heaven, I guess you could call it. An eternal reward, essentially.”

    “So it’s worth it for a Hero who fails to not accept and instead ask for a second chance,” Harry concludes.

    “Yes. Although a second chance could be one of two things: attempt to fulfill your original destiny, or await the need for a new Hero and accept a new destiny. Namtar, the one you call Death, may decide that a failure cannot be reversed because of” Yaba pauses and then shrugs “reasons. And he’s the boss, so what he says goes.”

    “Why then have I had more than just a second chance?”

    “If you remember, I mentioned Soul Reapers, correct? Well Grims are the ones who handle Catalysts, since their lives tend to be more complicated than Standards. Grims who have worked for a very long time, with countless Catalysts with little error can be promoted to Demons.” Yaba indicates themselves. “Many of your kind used to call us ‘death gods’, but as religions changed, so too did our names. And because you all fear death so much, ‘demons’ became synonymous with evil beings, so we’ll sometimes go by the technically incorrect title of ‘Grim Reapers’.

    “Demons such as myself are basically directly under Death, and we get the mostly cushy job of just supervising a department of Grims and Standards, with the occasional Destined Hero. The record for most Destined Heroes without failures in a row is fourteen.” Yaba leans across their desk. “I am tied with Iku, and he currently doesn’t have a Destined Hero, so the new record should be mine , but you keep failing .” They throw themselves back into their chair, looking defeated.

    Harry blinks, unsure whether he should sympathize with his Grim Reaper, or Demon--whatever they were called--or not. On the one hand, they seemed to be another self-serving being using him as a pawn, but on the other, perhaps he could get himself another chance.

    “So if I’m understanding this correctly, rather than give me a choice, you just kept giving me more chances?” Harry clarifies.

    “Oh no, you kidding me? That would get me demoted all the way back to Soul Reaper if I took your choice away!” They look scandalized at the very idea. “I always ask, but no offence, you’re predictable. I knew you were never going to turn down the chance to go back and help your friends, especially ‘cause you always ask the same thing first. ‘What does my death mean for my friends?’ The answer,” Yaba rushes in, anticipating Harry’s need to know, “is that most of them die.”

    “Then of course I want to go back!”

    “You’re not understanding, I can’t keep doing this. Someone is bound to have noticed by now that I keep looping time to allow you to start over. I mean, it’s not hard to keep that under the radar; death is a busy business. But I’ve done it three times .”

    “So what’s one more?” Harry argues.

    “Easy for you to say. At this point, I’m not sure you can succeed.” Yaba taps the folder for emphasis. “Not that I necessarily think it’s your fault. Not entirely, anyway.”

    Harry frowns. “So, what? I just have to accept my fate? Doesn’t that mean you lose your streak? What happens then?”

    “Then I hope that since it’s my first failure in centuries, they don’t decide to audit your file. Iku’s gloating would be bad enough but if I get audited, forget the record and my streak, I might lose my position and be demoted back to working with Catalysts .”

    “They don’t audit the file if I succeed?” Harry asks, fairly certain he knows the answer.

    “No, they don’t.” Yaba confirms. They’re staring at each other, and Yaba shakes his head at Harry. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do; convince me to send you back again . But every time I break a rule, it’s one more thing to be punished for when you fail and I get audited. At least if I quit now, I might be able to talk myself out of the worst of it.”

    “The problem is, you keep sending me back to, what, six months to a year before my last death? And with no memories of those deaths, I am right back in the middle of my hero-worship of Dumbledore, and all my other relationships are pretty much established. Of course I’m going to keep failing!” Harry stands up, pacing about the room. “If you send me back farther, with my memories, I’m sure I can do it.”

    Yaba watches him pace. “I don’t have the ability to let you keep your memories. That’s a separate department altogether. Not sure that’s possible, really.”

    Harry looks over at his Grim Reaper, noting the thoughtful look on their face, and he’s suddenly standing by the desk, leaning forward. “Can you find out? If I could just remember , you could send me all the way back to the beginning. I mean, not all the way, but before I even start at Hogwarts. I could make sure to not repeat those deaths, and save other lives.” Like Cedric’s and Sirius’s.

    There’s a moment of contemplative silence, then suddenly Yaba calls out. “Opiel!” A shadow suddenly appears next to the desk, like a large curtain that has been balled up, and unfurls into a large dog-like creature. It’s dark eyes take Harry in before it turns its head over to look at Yaba. They speak words to it in some unknown language and just as quickly, the creature disappears. “I’m not making any promises, there’s maybe half a dozen under Death who might have the ability to do what you’re asking, and only one who might be willing to help.”

    Harry has barely nodded when suddenly the creature, Opiel, is back. This time, accompanied by another. Harry vaguely remembers a school lesson, back before Hogwarts, in which their history book had shown images of ancient Greek statues. The woman before them looked like one of those statues come alive, although rather than all white marble, she had skin of a light brown, almost golden complexion, wore a dress of pale pink, and the hair curling about her face and pulled back into a bun at her neck was almost as dark as his own.

    “You summoned me?” Harry suppressed the urge to shiver. The tone of her voice was cold, and it was clear she was offended.

    “Summoned? Lethe, I just asked Opiel to tell you I was looking for you,” Yaba explains. “I couldn’t very well take a Destined Hero to the Library, after all.”

    Lethe’s dark eyes move over Harry as she crosses her arms. “No,” is all she says after a moment, and Harry assumes she means Yaba could not have taken Harry to this Library. She looks away from him and back to the Grim Reaper. “What is your purpose in seeking me out?”

    “Ah, see, Harry here needs to go back to reattempt his destiny. I was hoping you could make it so that he recalls his past life?” Yaba gives her a hopeful look. “You know, as a favor to me.”

    “That I have not let it be known he has been thrice revived should be favor enough,” Lethe responds, and Yaba grimaces.

    “Ah, you noticed?” Their eyes widen. “Has anyone else?”

    “No.” She does not elaborate further, looking between them for a quiet moment. It isn’t until Harry shifts restlessly that she says, “My domain is oblivion and forgetfulness.”

    “Yes, that is your expertise,” Yaba agrees, “but it’s all memory. You could prevent forgetfulness too, couldn’t you?”

    “Assisting you would be worth more than what I owe.”

    Yaba nods their head in understanding. “So instead I’ll owe you in turn. Absolutely. So you’ll help?”

    She unfolds her arms and comes around the desk to stand next to Yaba, holding her hand out. They pass her Harry’s folder and she takes a moment to flip through the pages. “What were you thinking?”

    “Further than the previous times. Age eleven.”

    “He cannot maintain all his memories.”

    “Why not?” Harry asks.

    “Because.” She looks up to meet his eyes and states matter of factly, “You would go mad. Your mind is not intended to hold the memories of various lives, and it is especially not intended to remember its own death, much less multiple deaths.”

    “I’m fine right now, though.”

    “You’re dead,” Yaba reminds him. “So your mind and body aren’t constricted by the normal limitations.” Lethe nods her head in agreement, setting the folder down. Yaba turns to her. “What do you suggest then?”

    Her head tilts to the right slightly as she thinks, eyes still on Harry. “I would suggest he choose a few memories to take back with him. The ones he feels to be most pertinent to ensuring his success, and I can make it so that they come to him in dreams or are triggered by something.”

    “Then it will be more like an intuition or a glimpse into the future. Your mind will basically come up with a plausible reason for why you seem to just know those things,” Yaba explains.

    “Okay,” Harry agrees. He’ll take whatever he can get, before either of these beings changes their mind. “Let’s do it, then.”

    “Not so fast.” Yaba opens a drawer in their desk and pulls a paper out. They read over it and then pull out a long item that seems to be some type of writing utensil. It’s carved out of one piece and is all white, including the pointed tip, but when they press it to the paper it writes in blue, the words around it moving to make space. “This has to be the last time, and to make sure Lethe doesn’t get caught up in my trouble if you fail again, we’re doing this the right way and drawing up a contract. This is a big exception, so if you don’t succeed, your acceptance means you’ll have to work some time for the the Library of Memories to make up for essentially wasting Lethe’s time.”

    They finish writing then flip the page around so it’s facing Harry. With a tap, it’s all legible, and Harry pulls the chair forward so he can sit and read over it. The basics seems to be what they already discussed, that he’ll be sent back for a final chance to fulfill his destiny and that he understands that should he fail, he will be forced to accept with no additional chances. Furthermore, for using up the time of a Memory Librarian, he agrees to give back the equivalent amount of labor before being allowed to take his place in Heaven with the understanding that it may prevent him from meeting with his loved ones if he does not complete his time prior to the limitation of a being’s memories in Heaven. At the bottom is a place for his to affirm his understanding and sign, and then a second page that is blank except for an area for signatures at the bottom.

    “What is the second page for?”

    Lethe is the one who answers him. “That is where you shall write the memories you choose to keep. You can pick no more than a dozen, so choose wisely, and I shall review to ensure it can be done. If no changes are needed, we will both sign that we are in agreement with those memories.”

    A dozen memories. A dozen memories out of the collective seventeen years he had lived. Twenty-one, if they were counting the years he’d relived. Surely he could come up with moments that if he did differently, would change the course of his life? He had to, he was only getting one more shot at this. So he began writing, beginning with:

The Dursleys will take your Hogwarts letter: hide it...

Story Notes:

Title of the fic comes from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name.

Chapter title is from the Queen song of the same name.

Maquetaurie Guayaba was the name of a Taino death god. Opiel was the demon guard dog protecting the entrance to the ancestral spirit realm.

Lethe, in Greek mythology, was the personification of oblivion and associated with (sometimes considered the goddess of) the river in Hades of that name that made its drinkers forget the past.

#Because I Could Not Stop for Death fic #BICNSFD #Harry Potter #HP fanfic #Harmony fanfic

[space-kates]

Lover’s Spat

Summary: Prompt for Person A treats Person B’s injuries and a lover’s quarrel

Pairing: Cara Dune x Reader

Warnings: swearing, injuries, canon-typical violence

Words: 1.9 K

A/N: Round 2. A continuation of my first Cara fic with less flirting and more angst. Also dedicated to @teddiebuns​ cause she kicked my ass in gear with this prompt.

 Today had not started out as a good day. No. Far from it. And from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to end on a good note either.

Cara fidgeting around on the edge of the crate she sat on in the hold of the ship wasn’t helping your mood in the least. Especially when you were trying to cut away the charred and bloody fabric away from her leg. The result of, yet another, fight she’d gotten herself into. Granted it wasn’t entirely her fault, but your irritation with her had been steadily mounting all day.

“Stop squirming.” You demanded crossly, snipping the scissors closed perhaps a tad harsher than was really necessary. She wasn’t going to listen. You knew that. She never listened to anyone but herself and even then, it was debatable since she never seemed to follow her own advice. She was always telling you not to go getting into fights, but here she was rushing head long into a kriffing warzone like she was made for it. Which maybe she was but that was besides the point.

When you managed to cut enough of the fabric away from the wound you tossed the scissors down onto the crate, the noise clattering in the quiet of the ship as you rummaged through your med pack for a wipe to clean up the blood and dirt around the area.

Cara hissed when you started to scrub the area, shoulders tense and you could see the way her arms, which you normally admired, flexed in response to the pain. You’d been worried when you’d first seen her limping back to the ship, dirty and bloody, seized by a fear that her injury was worse that it was. Now, now though you were just pissed off as the fight that had sent her storming off the ship in the first place was back at the forefront of your mind.

“That hurts!” She protested and tried to move her leg away when you gave a particularly aggressive wipe across the area. Honestly you weren’t even sure if you were trying to be gentle anymore.

“Maybe if you could avoid getting into a fight every ten minutes, I wouldn’t have to keep patching you up and it would hurt less.” Came your retort before you could stop yourself. You didn’t want to reignite this fight but Maker you were tired.

You’d avoided looking at her face since you’d gotten her situated on the crate and returned with the med pack, but now you looked at her, unafraid of the scowl on her face. It matched your own as you grabbed hold of her knee, keeping her leg in place so you could finish your work. Your expression was challenging, and Cara never backed down from a challenge, or a fight, even when that fight was with you.

Normally Cara would have a smart remark, something equal parts flirty and sarcastic. Right now though her shoulders were stiff and her jaw was a hard line. You could see the bags under her eyes, prominent under the yellow overhead lights in the hold. She hadn’t slept much this past week. But neither had you and you knew it wasn’t helping either of your tempers. You both needed to sleep but that was the last either of you had in mind right now.

Neither of you said anything and the silence stretched uncomfortably around you. You knew she wasn’t going to back down this time but you weren’t about to give in this time. Not this time. Not when she was being reckless and hotheaded and stupid and stubborn. Not when she had gotten involved in something that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.

So you just stared at one another, your grip on her knee firm and unwavering until she opened her mouth again.

“Are we going to talk about it or are you going to continue to sulk?” The bluntness of her question caused you to reel back like she’d slapped you, though she hadn’t even lifted and hand.

An angry flush bloomed on your cheeks and you bristled at the accusation. Sulking!? Was that what she thought you were doing!?

“You had no right-” you began hotly, fully prepared to lay into her and use her as an outlet for all the frustration you were feeling. At least you were until she stood, a full head taller than you, back straight and glaring down at you in a way that made the noise in your throat die. Cara cut an intimidating figure, something you usually admired and on occasion ogled. Except you’d never had it turned on you before. Not even in previous spats you’d gotten into.

She took a step toward you, not even a wobble in her step, causing you to hastily step back hoping to create more room between you. You never thought Cara would hit you, still didn’t but the glare on her face was enough to make the tiniest bit of fear curl up in your chest.

Cara didn’t let the space last long and pretty soon you had your back pressed up into the wall of the ship doing your best to maintain your own glare, not give her the satisfaction of seeing you cowed. You refused to let her win this. Like it was even a competition.

“I had every right.” She snarled and you could feel your throat bob as you swallowed tightly.

“You didn’t have to kill him.” You snapped back already seething again at her audacity. The self-righteous way she claimed the rights to your problems like they were her own. “That wasn’t your place. You could have just-”

“Just left the man who tried to hire me to kill you live. Let him get someone else to do it? Have them come after us?” She interrupted you again, voice tight. She reached out, hands gripping tightly at your biceps as she crowded further into your space, nearly pressing you into the wall. Her grip was tight, not painful, but you still grimaced and tried to pull away. For all the good it would probably do you. “I don’t give a damn what kind of trouble got some low-level syndicate sleaze out for your head, but I’m not about to let him put out a hit on you.”

“I don’t care about some syndicate moron who is mad about a few credits! I care that now they’ll come after you!” The heart of the problem really. And you voiced it loudly. Loud enough it felt like it echoed around the half empty hull. It wasn’t that you minded that she’d wanted to help. Or even that she’d killed someone. You both knew she had blood on her hands long before she’d ever stowed away on your ship and talked her way into your bed.

What bothered you. What really bothered you, was the thought that she’d all but put a target on her back in the name of getting you out of trouble. This was going to get put on her chain code. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without getting identified by slum lords and bounty hunters and pirates looking to cash in. And sure, you’d had to deal with a few before because Cara was mouthy, but the syndicate was dangerous. It had existed during the old republic, had thrived under the Empire, and though it was forced back into the underground with the rise of the New Republic, the leaders were very much still in power of much of the underworld. No one wanted to mess with them.

“Does it look like I care about that?” Her brows drew down even further. Like she was offended you would think it had even crossed her mind.

“I do!” You cried out, shoulders slumping as you finally looked away from her face. Maker you were mad. Mad she was considering your safety was more important than hers. Furious she was jumping in the line of fire.  The implication of what that could mean terrified you. “I can’t watch you put yourself in danger like that! What if they manage to actually get to you? I… Cara I can’t lose you.”

As loud as your voice had been it softened to almost a whisper. You could stand losing her like you could lose an arm or a leg. And you tried to ignore the way she’d gone still in front of you, like that tiny quiet admission had turned her into some kind of living statue. Maybe in the middle of a fight wasn’t the smartest time to admit something like that.

Silence for the span of a heartbeat and then. “Okay.” Soft. Gentle. Not like the angry biting tone she’d used just a moment ago. The grip on your arms eased up and she small amount of space between your bodies felt just a little less suffocating.

Your head snapped up, nearly cracking against her chin. “Okay!? That’s it!?” You asked sounding madder than you really felt now. Okay no. You were still mad. Could she at least manage a proper apology?

“I’m not sorry about what I did.” She said in her defense. Her head dropped to rest against yours, face close enough that her nose brushed against yours even as you could feel yourself bristling in anger again. “I’ll do it again if I have to. He had it coming anyway, no one tries to hurt my girl.”

“Cara-” She was stupid and reckless and stubborn and by the Maker you wanted to throttle her. But you’d be damned if that wasn’t as close to a love confession as you’d likely get from this woman and that was enough to settle you down just a bit.

“I really want to sit down. Can we stop fighting now?” She asked eyes fluttering shut as she leaned against you and you were suddenly reminded that she was still injured and that neither of you had really slept in the last few days between jobs and getting into trouble.

“Sit down then.” You weren’t done being mad. But the fire had cooled for now and you really did need to get a bacta patch on her leg before it got infected and you had to do something drastic like amputate it.

A small nudge had Cara moving back, her intimidating stature from before gone, shoulders slumped in exhaustion as she hoisted herself back up onto the side of the crate so you could have better access to her leg.

You stepped forward again, gathering the bacta patch from the med pack and applying it far more gently than you would have earlier if she hadn’t literally backed you into a corner. The bandages that came after to keep the patch in place were harder to apply when Cara dropped her head onto your shoulder, impeding your movement but at this point you were too tired to scold her. You were however a bit curious.

“What kind of fight did you get into to get this anyway?” You asked when you had tied the bandages off nearly.

There was a huff from Cara, like she was laughing. Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you into her chest carefully so as to not agitate her leg. You could hear the smile in her tone when she spoke.

“I told you. No one tries to hurt my girl.”

#cara dune x reader #Carasynthia dune x reader #cara dune #the mandolorian #star wars fanfiction #space wife #fanfiction #reader insert #My writing

[purplellamanator]

Oh my god! I can’t believe you open your ask again \(//∇//)\ If it is not much, can you do hero/villain with shinran? It is good to see them on the other perspective. By the way,I love all your stories for DCMK. Thanks for writing the stories to us! And make people smile 😊

A/N~ Thanks so much for the request and your kind words! I hope you like this! This one is a slight twist to canon where Ran is in the BO being the villain and Shinichi, the detective 💜

6. Hero/Villain~ Person A is a Hero. Person B is a villain. And both have an undeniable attraction to each other

oOo

She's a fool. This can all only end badly. She knows that much. Yet . . . she's done it again. And again. And again.

And again.

One night in a week shifted to three times in a week. Every other day was slowly turning into every single day. And it was her fault. She was the one that sought him. She was the one that was in control of when and where they would meet- of if they would even meet. She could try to spin it on him. That he was just as dense as her. That he should tell her to leave and not to come back. But he doesn't.

So they were both guilty.

The repercussions for if they were found out would be damning and irreversible. He could lose his job and she . . . probably her head- not that he needed to know that. If he ever knew what would happen to her- what Gin would do if he found out about them, he’d never spare her another passing glance. So selfishly, she refrained from telling him. Why should she? It was clear that neither wanted to go without the other.

It was ridiculous really, how this all started. He had been chasing her, trying to arrest her. She shouldn’t of looked back when she heard his call of distress nor should she of panicked when the railing stopping him from falling over the edge of the fire escape gave out.

It was all so stupid but it’s what she did. In a flash she had been standing over him and using one hand to grip the shoulder of his coat tightly before realizing she’d need both hands. She had almost toppled over the edge with him due to the grating being slick with the still pouring ran but after he got over the shock of her helping him, he quickly gripped what was left of the railing beside her and helped to tug his body up.

After and he was sitting beside her breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush he must’ve just gotten along with the realization that he almost died, he stared at her with an unreadable expression. Swallowing, she just sat equally frozen only now, petrified that she just royally screwed herself over. He’d arrest her and with his handcuffs, a bullet in the back of her head wouldn’t be far behind once Gin found out.

The abrupt cracking of what sounded like a radio had them both jolting out of whatever staring contest they had been locked in.

“Kudou, anything in your end?”

Her eyes went wide again at the reminder. He was chasing her. Just because she had saved his life, it was still his job-

“No.”

She blinked rapidly and in confusion as he continued to speak into the radio.

“It looks like she got away. Pull everybody in, we need to regroup,” he ordered, the entire time his stark blue eyes were connected with hers. Afterwards and once his partner replied that he got the message, the air between them became tense as neither one made a move. It looked like neither wanted to explain their actions first.

When he realized that she would not be saying anything, he slowly leaned towards her.

And instantly she recoiled sharply, her hand bracing her side protectively.

His eyes flit down to where her palm was pressed firmly into her side. “You’re hurt,” he said simply as if stating a fact.

That was an understatement. She was quick but even for her dodging a spray of bullets was practically impossible. Still, she had managed to do it. Each one missed her except for one. And now she was beginning to feel the affects of blood loss.

When he pressed forward, as hurriedly as her sluggish movements would allow, she scurried behind her almost repeating the incident of sliding over the edge. “Do not touch me,” she warned carefully but really, the threat was an empty one. What could she honestly do in her state? She was mere minutes away from passing out. The rush from the chase as well as his almost deathly fall had worn off and now she was beginning to feel the pull for sleep. Which she knew would not be the kind she’d wake up from.

Ignoring her, he moved forward again and when he reached out to grab her and force his help, she slapped his hand away roughly. “I can do it myself,” she snapped angrily. It was his own officers that did it anyway and gingerly, she cradled her side defensively like a wild animal.

His hand gripping the arm that bore the limb that slapped him, suddenly pulled her towards him. Doing everything she could just to stay awake and aware, all she could do was growl furiously while to struggle like an infant.

Finally, when even his patience must’ve worn out, his eyes snapped back to hers angrily. “Let me help you.” The words came out tense and she was sure was meant exactly as it had sounded- like an order.

After that, she couldn’t remember much of anything else. At some point she must’ve either passed out or stopped fighting but when she came to, she was hooked up to monitors. At first, she thought she was in a hospital and instantly panic gripped her heart so tightly. But looking to her side and around the room, she realized that that wasn’t the case at all. She was in a . . . house?

“How are you feeling?”

The sudden intrusion to her thoughts jolted her so badly that one instinct, she sat up straight in the bed. Forgetting her injury and just what helped lead up to this position, a searing pain shot through her side and she pressed a hand to it delicately.

“Shit!” She heard the curse before suddenly the man from the other night filled her vision. His blue eyes that she could remember so clearly were staring at her with concern and he tried to force her to lay down once more. Seeing that was clearly in no position to fight, she slowly rested her head against the pillows.

“Why am I here?” The question was said without any real emotion behind it and she didn’t bother to even look at him as her eyes rested firmly on the ceiling above her. There was no point. She couldn’t fight or defend herself. She was at his mercy.

For once the man looked confused and it was such an odd look to see on his face. “You were dying,” he said as if she were an idiot for asking.

Jaw clenching she heaved a sign. “No. Why am I here and not a hospital?” Was was she here and not in jail? Surely if he had taken her to the ER she’d be cuffed to the bed right now.

Her question was only answered by his silence and when she thought he must’ve left with her knowing, her gaze flit over time find him staring at her with that same expression from last night.

“Why did you save me?”

His words caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting him to respond with a question of his own but once it registered, her gaze moved back to the ceiling.

“You were dying,” she said simply, repeating the words he had given her just a little bit ago.

Based off the way his breath heaved out of him, she could tell her answer only frustrated him. “But why would you of all people care?”

His words made her mad. He said them as if he knew who she was- what kind of person she was. And he didn’t. “Maybe I’m not as evil as you’ve made me out to be,” she replied easily. It was the truth. She had done a lot of wrong in her life but she never took the life of someone that didn’t actually deserve it. And when she did, she didn’t enjoy it. She wasn’t like the others in the organization and she knew that’s what was upsetting him the most. Because he knew that if she had been any other member of the BO, that night would’ve been his last.

Her words had left him quiet and she realized it was because they had him thinking. After that, things had been odd with him. At any second she was expecting the Japanese Police Force to come busting through the windows and roof to arrest her. But it never happened.

He never did tell her why he took her here nor who and how he saved her life. She didn’t bother asking because she knew that he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Probably because she wouldn’t tell him why she saved him but honestly, she didn’t have a reason for that either other than that in her eyes, he didn’t deserve to die. He wasn’t a criminal or crook. Simply just someone doing their job- someone trying to live.

It was unspoken, but a mutual understanding of trust blossomed between the two that night. She would always act as if she were on guard around him but it was undeniable how safe he made her feel. For once she could actually sleep a full night without worrying that she’d be killed off in her sleep. She didn’t want to leave, but after a week passed, she knew that it was time. The others had to be searching for her since she never checked in. If she stayed any longer, this stranger’s life would be in danger.

The first time, she had left when he was away. She wasn’t sure if he’d try to stop her and also, she didn’t know exactly what to say even if he didn’t.

But that had not been her last night with him. Two weeks later, she came back. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. Breaking into a detective’s house, she was practically delivering herself to the jail. But she couldn’t deny the undeniable urge she had to speak with him again. She claimed inside her head that it was to finally get him to explain why he saved her but she knew that was all a lie.

It wasn’t till the third time she returned to him that she was able to finally understand. She had been waiting for him. Sitting at the end of his bed with her legs extended and crossed at the ankles. She knew he was home the moment she saw the lights reflecting through his blinds. He had been startled by her presence that night. When he asked why she was there like he did each the two times before, this time she didn’t dodge or give a snide remark in return. This time she spoke honestly.

“Because I want you.”

Her response had surprised him even more than her sudden presence but oddly, a gleam of understanding and . . recognition? . . came through. He felt the same.

The truth had been just as mind reeling for her as it was him. It was only after they lay in his sheets, bare and pressed to each other, his hands leisurely brushing along her back as she rested on his chest, that why she wanted him so much hit her. His touch. It was so kind and gentle. Even when it was pulling her closer for much more carnal reasons.

No one had ever touched her like that before. No one had ever looked at her like that before and for the first time in years, she cried.

And so a pattern began. Her visits had been sporadic in the beginning until finally they became regular. No longer was he confused to find her sitting on his bed when he got home from work. It was something she knew he expected now. And so long as his life wasn’t in danger, she wouldn’t disappoint.

#dcmk #fanfic #fanfiction #shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #asks #drabbles #requests #writing #writing prompts

[shinneth]

SUF as a whole just left me with an empty feeling.

I feel you there, anon. In Dreams aside, I could take or leave the rest of this series (and in most cases, leaning well towards the latter sentiment). 

But I guess that’s to be expected when 90% of SUF focused squarely on Steven’s PTSD and need for therapy and the many, many red flags shown as early on as the beginning that signaled his eventual breakdown to where he ended up in the climax.

Especially with the fanbase itself constantly screeching that Steven needs therapy, Steven has PTSD, Steven’s gonna corrupt, et cetera… like, it was all laid on far too thick. So when we got to Growing Pains, it really didn’t move me like it did so many others because it came off as such a “No shit, Sherlock” moment for me when Priyanka finally addressed the underlying issues the show itself really didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about.

Don’t get me wrong; a lot of people who have suffered (or are presently suffering) from the same problems as Steven irl have been helped a lot by these kinds of episodes, and I do appreciate that.

But from my personal standpoint, yeah… I knew from the start that Steven’s underlying issues alone were not gonna be enough to sustain a full series, and sure enough, it wasn’t. We got to see some bits here and there with the other characters, but we also had a few choice characters be really shitty people in season 5 that never got properly addressed before it concluded, and with the timeskip in SUF, all of that just got handwaved off as “dealt with offscreen”, which is the laziest BS ever. 

And worst of all, at the end, they really didn’t stick the landing well at all. I’ll at least say SUF’s resolution wasn’t the mega levels of offensively terrible as Change Your Mind - but then again, it’s hard to out-do giving totalitarian space dictators with countless lives lost under their watch a fucking FACE-TURN out of nowhere. 

Like, really, the Diamonds’ presence (White especially) in SUF actively made my viewing experience even worse towards the end. Yes, I should be glad they’re establishing that the Diamonds are at least starting to use their powers for good and rebuild some of the lives they ruined.

But, y’know… doesn’t change the fact that they’re all responsible for multiple counts of global genocide. Like, any living creatures native to their colony planets? They’re still fucking gone. And the Diamonds themselves just come off VERY unnatural as “nice” guys - and in many cases, they’re even creepier now than they were as villains. Good god, White’s blubbering in the climax was fucking insufferable, though. 

Partially I think this comes from SU being a “kids show” so there’s this pressing need to end things as cleanly as possible. I’m more miffed that in the end, Steven still got pretty much everything he wanted.

They had some admittedly good set-ups to Steven’s growth, like having him accept that people grow up, change, and move on with their lives. We see the clear evidence that Steven’s got an unhealthy clinginess towards his human friends - and Connie’s no exception. 

And considering they took the time to establish that:

Connie has friends other than Steven. She gets along with them just fine, so it’s not like she’s totally lonely or isolated without him.

Connie is ambitious with many goals and aspirations when it comes to her education and potential career paths. She’s shown to have put a lot of thought into her options and at no point comes off as feeling pressured by her parents or friends into this.

Connie knows she has to work hard and often to achieve her dreams, and despite that rigid lifestyle, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. That would imply she really wants to reach these goals she set for herself, whether or not Steven’s in the picture at all.

Connie and Steven’s dynamic is a far cry from how it was when they started out in the original series. You can tell Steven has no clue what Connie’s talking about when it comes to her goals and just plays along, pretending he understands anything coming out of her mouth.

Connie, despite what her speech would lead you to believe, has been every bit as insufferably dense as the gems in SUF when it comes to Steven’s issues. In Bismuth Casual, Steven’s very specifically-worded concerns were misconstrued as a fear of skating (or his inability to, whatever) - and in the end, they just became Stevonnie rather than properly talked things through. You know, something PERIDOT 100% did in the prior episode.

Connie is very firm about wanting to live her life as herself. She’s not against being Stevonnie from time to time, but like hell does she want to be Stevonnie for the long term. 

Connie knows marrying in general at her age is a stupid-stupid-stupid idea, even if it is Steven. And considering her well-established commitment to her studies and reaching her lofty goals, Connie - at least at the time - seemed to know a relationship with anyone just wasn’t in the cards for her at this point in her life. There’s no need to rush that shit, and she won’t compromise her life just to give her needy friend this thing he wants that he doesn’t even fully understand truly is. 

Or, you know… just have Connie backpedal hard on a good chunk of that and date Steven so that he won’t become a monster again. I’m mostly kidding with that - but by kissing his monstrous self and that triggering his restoration, then soon later we see that even though Steven and Connie can only have a long-distance relationship at best, she’s dating him right now anyway even though this needlessly makes her life way more complicated than it needed to be - like seriously, how can I not take that as Canon Connverse being founded on the condition of “Okay, if it’ll keep you from losing your shit, going pink, and turning into a monster, I’ll date you”?!

And in the end it yet again gives Steven more-or-less exactly what he wants, even if it isn’t something he really needs. 

I’m glad Rebecca clarified that Steven would still visit Beach City often, because I had a very hard time buying him just traveling by himself on the road. And maybe it would have worked better if he was just doing it short-term to “find himself” or something along those lines, but nope! They’re basically saying this is what Steven wants to do.

And honestly, even that is dampened with his clearly-stated intention of visiting Connie way more than he intends to visit the gems. Even though Connie’s gonna be busy. With college.

This just… wasn’t a good ending. It had plenty of good moments - his goodbye to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot especially was very well-executed and the closest this finale came to drawing out any real emotion out of me. I loved the scene of Steven giving Greg his room; that was adorable. The last meeting with Tsundere Jasper was amusing.

But everything else… ehhh.

I mean, what can we really take from this season that I haven’t already outlined? The biggest takeaways were the plot points everyone saw coming a mile away that weren’t even executed all that well. 

In Dreams, as great at is was, might as well have not even happened - because what really carried over from that episode through to the end? Even though Peridot was the only one who got through to Steven, legitimately comforted him and addressed his fears, and the episode for once ended with Steven being happy with no underlying concerns about his problems - immediately he’s back to being awkward and depressed and frustrated by Bismuth Casual.

And I get that shit like trauma shouldn’t be resolved so easily, but for what In Dreams accomplished, I expected there to at least be a semblance of progress. Steven’s known since that episode he can hang out with Peridot and talk to her about whatever without needing a reason to do it, but he never ever takes her up on that again. 

So again, what was the point? 

You really get the impression that the quality of writing took a backseat just to emphasize the symbolism of an issue people commonly have, but SUF’s execution stretched my suspension of disbelief far beyond its limits. 

And nothing stretched that farther than Connie’s insufferable fucking speech in I Am My Monster; that pretty much completely made In Dreams feel like it never really happened in SUF’s continuity. 

In some ways, I just prefer to believe In Dreams was just a dream itself. An AU offshoot in SUF itself. Considering it’s so ridiculously good compared to the other nineteen episodes and by far the most pure and wholesome, maybe that’s the best way to see it. 

In Dreams was too good for its own series. That’s literally the only thing I personally took from SUF as a whole (at least in terms of lasting impact). 

So yeah, I guess for only one episode of twenty to really hit me in the feels, “empty” is an apt way to describe the series, anon. 

Seriously, if I didn’t have my own massive SU-AU to mess around in and do things properly, this probably would have upset me more. 

Instead, I just chuckle at Rebecca’s Monster Steven and raise her to what I’m putting my version of Steven through in my current story. Where I’m pulling all the stops to make other characters matter even though the stars are undoubtedly Peridot and Steven. 

And I’m actually making actions yield serious, lasting consequences.

(yeah, part of me wishes Jasper wasn’t revived - or alternatively, have Steven accidentally shatter White Diamond instead of Jasper since he came awfully close in canon

or even better, shatter Jasper and revive her, then accidentally shatter White and not be able to revive her since Steven used up ALL that diamond essence on Jasper…

yeah I’m kind of a monster)

Your pain is mutually felt, anon. So I’ll prescribe you endless refills of better-written and better-executed SU fanon to heal the emptiness SUF left inside you.

#answered asks #nice anons #steven universe future #suf finale #steven universe

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

An Explanation of Why Louis and Violet are Both Terrific Love Interests [1/5]

+Why both romantic routes are not only amazing but better than other games I’ve personally played in the past. 

+Why some people are idiots and get off on picking stupid fights. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Grab a beverage and sit down, I’m about to weave you a tale. 

A long time ago, I made an Instagram account. I did this so that I could have another place to intake TWDG content. I got to see lots of artwork and watch fun little videos and edits and it was all great. 

For about an hour before everything went downhill far too quickly. You see, I rarely go on that Instagram account anymore because no matter what tag I look under to search for content, a good 60% of it is all the same: hateful. 

Hateful towards Violet, hateful towards Louis, hateful towards each other. I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve scrolled past with the title “TELLTALE AND SKYBOUND HATE LOUIS AND HERE’S WHY” or “VIOLET IS THE WORST AND HERE’S WHY” or “WHY VIOLENTINE IS CANON AND CLOUIS IS NOT” or any other nonsense along those lines. 

After that, I quit going on Instagram. 

Until one day, I thought to myself, “Well, maybe now that the game is over, those dingdongs have moved on and I can look at the twdg tag in peace!”

And to be fair, it wasn’t as bad, but it’s still actively being made. Along with other questionable content that I think has taken hours off of my life just by witnessing it but we’re not going to dive down that rabbit hole right now. 

Anyway, after glancing over another “SKYBOUND HATES LOUIS” post, I couldn’t help but think, “Y’know, either y’all don’t realize how lucky we were to have gotten a bisexual lead with not only one great romantic option but two amazing romantic options, or y’all are just a bunch of idiots who get off on fighting. Maybe even both. I mean, sure, they’re not equal in every single way possible and there are a lot of things that I wanted, but it’s a helluva lot better than what we’ve been given in the past with other games.”

The thoughts kept building up as I recalled previous games that had optional romances that left me underwhelmed or downright disappointed. Neither Louis nor Violet have perfect romance routes, each with things that we wish we had more of, but we’re lucky to have gotten what we did, and because I haven’t written a post like this in a long time, allow me to break it down for you. 

Keep in mind that this is just my opinion and how I see things. I’m sure there’ll be a point where you say “Well, CJ, I beg to differ on this particular topic and/or idea-” and that’s fine. 

Hell, maybe you have a game with a disappointing romance that I didn’t list here because I’ve yet to play it. That’s great, feel free to share! This post is for fun but also because I need to vent some frustrations towards a fight that is 100% unnecessary but continues regardless. 

Beware of spoilers for the following games:

Life is Strange Persona 4 TWDG: A New Frontier King’s Quest [2015] Catherine

[both Louis and Violet are great!]

all y’all on instagram are just idiots

Now, in case you couldn’t tell from my blog, I love Louis. When it comes to my personal canon of TWDG, clouis is my endgame. Louis is my favorite non-playable character of the entire series, if not my absolute favorite. I love him. 

You know who else I love? Violet. She’s great. I found myself relating a lot to her character and I wanted to see her make it to the end okay. I was pissed when she was pissed at me, but in the end, I was more pissed about her treatment regarding her blinding and how easily she and Clementine made up. 

But you know what I really, truly love? A great bisexual protagonist: Clementine. 

Clementine’s the lucky one here in that she has the choice between sweet, charming, loyal Louis and witty, strong yet sensitive Violet. This is the definition of “bi panic” because really

I do want to add that I haven’t played Violet’s romance route, but I don’t need to to know that it’s great. There are a thousand and one blogs who can explain her romance with Clementine 100% better than I can, but I will try my best within this section and my conclusion since I’m mostly talking about them together.

Now, why is it great that Clementine is a bisexual protagonist? Well, there’s obviously the representation which was more than welcome in this case, regardless of what some idiots will say. 

Not only that, but it allows the player to romance a boy or a girl, which again, is obvious but I have some points about this that I’ll bring up when I talk about other games, like Life is Strange and Persona 4, so put a little pin in that for later. 

Both Louis and Violet are presented as loving partners for Clementine, and they’re both people who Clementine cares about. Based on your choices and how you play her, you can be as affectionate with them as possible and help them better themselves over the course of the game. 

Louis and Violet have different but interesting backstories, they have different ways of communicating their feelings, they both deal with their own struggles [internal and external] and open up to Clementine in different ways. 

Yes, there was plenty to be desired within the routes. We’ve talked about that before so I won’t go into great detail about it, but in conclusion: Louis and Violet are great. 

So why do people argue about it?

My scientific conclusion states that they’re idiots who get off on picking fights over the internet. 

And that they don’t know how good they got it because we could’ve gotten so, SO much worse. 

At this point, I will be comparing the Louis/Violet romance to romances found in other games I’ve played, starting with a game that I liked very much, but was ultimately disappointed with, well.... everything. 

[life is strange and imbalance]

every choice matters except not really until we hit episode 5: bae vs bay

Life is Strange is an episodic game that released in 2015. It follows Max Caulfied, a young, aspiring photographer attending Blackwell Academy who learns that she can rewind time after witnessing a girl being shot in the bathrooms. 

I was pretty into this when it first came out. I played each episode as it came out, I read stuff on Tumblr and watched every theory video on youtube I could find. It had a likable and relatable protagonist, a pretty cool missing person mystery, cringy dialogue, and cool rewind powers. 

Let’s talk about Max, our playable protagonist. 

She’s shy, awkward, nosy, and she wants to be a photographer but lacks confidence when it comes to putting herself out there despite having the talent. She goes through a lot of grief and betrayal through the game, but ultimately learns more about herself and how her choices affect everything around her. 

She’s also bisexual, and like Clementine, she can romance a girl or a boy. 

Love Interest #1: Chloe Price

Chloe is the deuteragonist [secondary main character] of Life is Strange, and Max’s old childhood friend. She’s also the girl who gets shot in the bathroom, and the girl whose [girl]friend, Rachel Amber, is missing. 

Over the course of the story, Max and Chloe reconnect and grow closer as they try and find Rachel while also trying to figure out Max’s powers. We spend most of our time with Chloe, going to diner’s and junkyards and what have you. 

We learn a lot about Chloe’s home life: Her father died in a car accident, her mom owns a diner and remarried an asshole who smacks Chloe around when she smokes weed in her bedroom. We see Chloe as her most vulnerable, we save her life numerous times because she just won’t stop getting herself killed. 

Hell, we do this to the point where it begins to physically hurt Max and makes her bleed. We do this because Max claims that Chloe is the most important person to her. 

The most important person in Max’s life. 

Now, spoilers for the ending, but it turns out that the storm that’s come to destroy Arcadia Bay is all because of Chloe. So, the final choice Max has to make is to either go back and let Chloe die in the bathroom or let the storm destroy a town and kill nearly everyone there. 

Either you sacrifice an entire town of people or you sacrifice Chloe. 

Bay vs Bae, as the kids dubbed it.

Romancing Chloe isn’t exactly full of fluffy smooches, though. You’d think it would, but considering that the girl we’re looking for is Chloe’s girlfriend who Chloe loved very much, it’s mostly Max saying how much she cares about Chloe and then Chloe turning around like “Boy, I wish Rachel was here...”

Then we find out Rachel’s fucking dead and that’s a real romance killer if I’ve ever seen one. 

Hell, the only time you get a real smooch from her [that we see] is if you sacrifice her! If you sacrifice the town, the game’s like “Really? Okay....” and you watch Max and Chloe drive through a wrecked town and into the sunset together. 

There’s a lot of different factors to it that you don’t get unless you’ve played it, but for me, it was disappointing. I didn’t even romance Chloe the first time because I didn’t even really like her, but when I did romance her, I felt cheated!

I only get to be happy with my girlfriend if I can live with the blood of an entire town on my hands?? And odds are, fate’s gonna keep trying to kill her, so I also have to hurt myself and numerous timelines to keep her alive until I eventually explode????

Man, I don’t know if I want to commit to that, y’know? Thankfully, there’s another romance option I can look at, right?

....Right?

Continued in Part 2

#twdg louis #louis twdg #twdg violet #violet twdg #twdg clouis #clouis #twdg violentine #violentine #twdg clementine #clementine twdg

[heart-eyes-kippen]

Heartburn

Hello here’s the angsty fic (with a happy ending) based on that post I made!!

[Title based on the song 'Heartburn' by Wafia because it has major post 3x15 tyrus angsty vibes and so does this fic]

~

Summary:  

He knew it. 

He knew that TJ was straight.

He knew that TJ would never like him that way. 

He knew that his feelings for cute athletes with sweet smiles and nice eyes would never be reciprocated. 

So why did the confirmation hurt so much?

 A.k.a Cyrus overhears a conversation between Kira and TJ about him. Drama ensues. [post 3x15, mostly canon compliant]

Word Count:  3849

[AO3 link in the reblog]

~

“Are you sure this’ll work, Andi?” asked Cyrus, frowning slightly as his bracelet.

 The girl flashed him a reassuring smile, giving him a pat on a shoulder as she walked past and began busying herself with putting away the supplies they’d used. “TJ will love it, trust me. If he doesn’t, then he has a very bad taste in bracelets.” 

 Cyrus sighed, leaning back against the confines of the wooden chair. He’d spent that Saturday morning at Andi Shack making a bracelet for TJ after some serious convincing from Andi. Truthfully, he was still somewhat scarred from the whole shirt fiasco, but the girl had insisted this would be more personal. 

 Andi turned around again, her smile fading the moment her eyes landed on him. “Hey, don’t doubt yourself, okay? He still cares about you, even if he’s hanging out with Kira.” 

 Cyrus bowed his head. Doubting himself was something he’d become particularly adept at, but somehow, the more he hung out with TJ the less his thoughts seemed to take that direction. Lately, he’d been feeling invisible to the boy, and his mind had no problem with reminding him about it endlessly.

 “You don’t think it’s lame?” he asked, voice soft. 

 A frown appeared on Andi’s face at that. She paused in her actions and moved back over to Cyrus, holding out her hands to him. He looked up at her with a hesitant smile, taking them and allowing himself to be pulled up from his chair. 

 “Cyrus. TJ isn’t like that, okay? He’ll never think you’re lame, no matter what. Trust me.” 

 Maybe it was the unwavering way Andi was looking at him, or how confident the words seemed, but Cyrus found himself nodding. 

 “Okay,” he agreed, smile widening when the girl pulled him in for a tight hug. 

 “Thanks,” he added in a whisper, and Andi gave him another pat on the shoulder as they separated. 

 “No problem. Now - go get your man!” 

 Cyrus laughed at that, shaking his head as he made his way over to the door. 

 “He’s not my man!” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out into the garden. Andi threw him a disbelieving look and returned to stacking her shelves. 

 “Keep telling yourself that!” 

 Cyrus just rolled his eyes. The cool morning had given way to a warm, even hot, afternoon. The sky was clear and there was sunlight beaming down on him. He found himself regretting his choice to wear a black shirt, but he pushed the thought aside and concentrated on making his way to the park,without somehow managing to talk himself out of giving TJ the bracelet.

 The walk was a relatively quick one, and by the time he could see the familiar swingset in the distance, he was already beginning to feel nervous. His stomach was tying itself into knots, and he came to an abrupt stop when he spotted TJ there. Alone. 

 Cyrus took in a deep breath, then another, before squaring his shoulders and continuing on his way, approaching the park. The shadows cast down onto him by the trees made the heat somewhat more bearable, and soon enough he found himself in almost the exact same position he was before, standing by the park bench near the swings.

 He looked over to the swingset, and when his eyes fell on who had joined TJ his heart sank. 

 This was a dumb idea anyway, he thought to himself, rooted to the spot as he watched Kira speak to TJ. It all seemed uncomfortably familiar, except this time, TJ looked almost... exasperated. Like he hadn’t counted on Kira being there. He was sat on a swing, looking over at the girl with a slight frown on his face as she spoke. 

 Cyrus considered just walking away again, bur curiosity got the better of him and he began to slowly make his way over, as light on his feet as he possibly could be to avoid any loud leaf-crunching. He reached the tree he had watched the pair from last time, feeling slightly guilty about eavesdropping, but not enough to stop. 

 “Why don’t you wanna take me to Andi’s party?” 

 Cyrus inhaled sharply, heart beginning to race as he watched the scene unfold. TJ bowed his head slightly, seemingly unable to meet the girl’s eye. 

 “I um...I do! It’s just...”

 Kira folded her arms, looking scarily as though she knew what TJ was trying to say.

 “Just what? We’re friends, aren’t we? You like me, don’t you?”

 Cyrus may have been seeing things, but he swore he saw TJ wince at the words. He felt his own face fall at the sight. A light gust of breeze rustled the tree leaves above him, and he found himself hurriedly hiding behind the tree trunk as Kira began glancing around. 

 TJ finally spoke. “I do like you,” he insisted, “and we are friends...I just...”

 Kira let out an impatient huff. “You just what?” 

 Silence fell for a moment. Cyrus held his breath, shoulders tense as he awaited TJ’s response. 

 “I was thinking of taking someone else,” he rushed out, “...potentially.” 

 Cyrus peered around the tree trunk to see TJ standing up now, taking a step towards the girl. Kira let out a frustrated sigh, gaze lowering to the ground for a moment.

 “Who?” she demanded, “and why them over me?” 

 TJ fell silent. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to answer, and Kira nodded slowly after a few seconds, clearly expecting the lack of response. 

 Cyrus had the brief, hopeful thought that maybe, just maybe, the person TJ wanted to take was him. He brushed it away as quickly as it had appeared. 

 Kira let out another sigh, except this time she sounded sad more than anything. Cyrus found himself frowning. The girl was clearly desperate to be TJ’s first choice, and a part of him understood why. The dull ache that came with feeling unwanted was one he had become familiar with over the past few years, and it wasn’t one he ever enjoyed. 

 TJ’s hands were fidgeting nervously now as he thought of what to say. He obviously came up blank, because Kira spoke up again. 

 “You don’t have to say it anyway - I know who it is.” 

 Cyrus’ heart skipped a beat. TJ was looking anywhere but Kira now.

 “It’s Cyrus. Isn’t it?” 

 He held his breath as he waited for the boy to respond, and eventually, he gave her a small nod. 

 Holy crap. TJ wanted to go with him. 

 Kira shook her head, laughing bitterly as she took a step back.

 “I’m really sorry - it’s just - we’re good friends, and I thought it’d be a good chance to hang out with him,” TJ explained desperately, “we can go to any other party you want together.” 

 Hurt flashed across Kira’s face, before being replaced with something else. Something Cyrus could recognise well at this point. Anger. 

 “This whole time, you’ve wanted to be with him. Haven’t you?” 

 “No! I-“

 “You don’t have to lie, TJ. I know you like him.”

 Cyrus gasped audibly, eyes widened as he hid back behind the tree and tried to calm his racing heart down. Had she really just said that?

 TJ seemed to be getting more and more desperate with each word that left his

mouth. “As - as a friend? Yeah, sure! I don’t know why you’d imply-“

 “I’ve seen the way you look at him, TJ! You like him! And you obviously prefer him to me! Its the only reason you did the damn costume with me in the first place - you were afraid you’d look-“ 

 “I wasn’t afraid of anything! Look - Kira - I don’t prefer him to you, okay? Let’s just drop this. I’ll go to whatever party you wanna go to.” 

 TJ turned around and made his way back over to the swings, but he stopped dead in his tracks when Kira spoke up again. The girl’s anger had given way to seeming defeat, and Cyrus felt a guilty pang in his chest as he watched on.

 “TJ. Just admit it. You li-“

 The boy whirled back around. “I don’t like him that way, okay?!” 

 Silence. 

 After all these years, Cyrus had always wondered how people in books could physically feel their ‘heart shatter.’ Sure, he’d felt sad before, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the blind-siding hurt that hit him like a tonne of bricks after hearing those words. 

 He knew now how it felt to have his heart shatter. Just another thing TJ had taught him, he supposed. 

 Cyrus couldn’t care less about how much noise he was making now, his vision blurred slightly by tears as he turned around and sprinted off in the opposite direction, one thought repeating over and over in his head. 

 He knew it. 

 He knew that TJ was straight.

 He knew that TJ would never like him that way. 

 He knew that his feelings for cute athletes with sweet smiles and nice eyes would never be reciprocated. 

 So why did the confirmation hurt so much? 

 Why did it hurt to be made aware of something he’d known all along? 

 He’d never realised the extent to which he’d unknowingly clung onto the illusion that maybe this time it would be different. TJ was ridiculously nice after all, he never judged him, and he always seemed genuinely excited to hang out. 

 For a stupid, fleeting moment, he had allowed himself to believe that TJ liked him too. That he laid awake at night thinking about him, that his heart raced just as much as Cyrus’ did whenever they hugged.

 But he was just another friend to TJ. And Cyrus had fallen all over again, like an idiot, for someone who would never like him back.

 Cyrus thought he could faintly hear someone calling his name in the distance, but his head was spinning at that point and he had no intention of slowing down as he reached the edge of the park. Trees were blurring around him, and his legs were already beginning to burn from running, but he didn’t dare stop until he was certain that TJ, or anyone else, couldn’t catch up to him. 

 He collapsed down onto his bed about ten minutes later, finally allowing himself to dissolve into tears. 

 The rainbow bracelet was left discarded on his desk. 

 ~ 

 [34 new notifications] 

 Cyrus squinted down at his screen the following morning, eyes bleary as he slowly sat up and looked towards the window. Sun was pouring in through the cracks in his blinds, and he could only assume that all of his crying had somehow managed to knock him out for the night. 

 He took a moment to compose himself, running a hand through his hair. The pain of yesterday hit him all at once as he brought up TJ’s contact, letting out a heavy sigh. Scanning over the messages, they seemed to get more and more desperate as time passed. 

 Cyrus bit his lip at the first one. 

 1:23 pm

 TJ: Hey, I’m sorry you overheard my conversation with Kira, I swear I really didn’t invite her 

 1:24pm

 TJ: I wanted to hang out with you 

 2:18 pm 

 TJ: Call me when you can, okay? 

 4:56pm

 TJ: Okay, I’m getting kind of worried now, are you okay?

 4:59pm

 TJ: Is this about what Kira said? I’m sorry, I really don’t know why she was there 

 5:28pm

 TJ: Please just send something so I know you’re okay 

 TJ: An emoji maybe? Or a comma? 

 6:25pm

 TJ: I’m coming over, okay? Tell me if you don’t want me to 

 6:46pm 

 TJ: Your mom said you were asleep. Idk if that’s true, but text me when you can 

 12:13am 

 TJ: I’m sorry. 

 TJ: I didn’t mean to mess things up between us

 TJ: I don’t know what to do anymore

 Cyrus could feel his eyes stinging with tears as he put his phone down, pausing for a moment to take everything in. TJ thought he was upset by Kira’s suggestions in itself, rather than his reaction to it, and Cyrus honestly would’ve preferred that the ground swallow him whole than have to tell him the real season he ran away. 

 Now that his sadness had given way to a dull feeling inside his chest, constantly reminding him of how unwanted he was, Cyrus couldn’t even sum up the energy to cry. He just let his head drop back against the pillow and let out a heavy sigh. 

 When his dad knocked gently on his door, asking if he could do anything, Cyrus looked towards his desk. 

 “Yeah,” he responded softly, eyes squeezing shut. “Could you throw away that bracelet, please?” 

 For a moment he looked as though he wanted to say something, but he ended up nodding and moving forward, collecting the bracelet. 

 “Sure you’re okay, bud?” 

 Cyrus smiled. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

 His dad nodded again, pausing by the doorway for a moment. “I’ll bring up some water, okay?” 

 With that, he was gone for the time being, and Cyrus couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the spot where his ‘not-so-scary-basketball-guy’ bracelet for TJ had been. 

 ~

 Dad <3: Hey Cyrus, 

 I’m on my afternoon coffee break and I just thought I’d tell you that I put that bracelet in your bag instead of throwing it away. It seemed important, but if you really don’t want it, you can get rid of it when you get home. 

 Love, Dad

 Cyrus stared down at the message for a few long moments, swallowing the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat. He was so caught up in trying to decipher what his dad had meant by ‘important,’ that he had missed about half of what Buffy was saying.

 When the girl pointedly cleared her throat he jolted slightly, shoving his phone back in his pocket with an apologetic smile. 

 “I’m sorry. What were you saying?” 

 Buffy put her pen down with a sigh. It was Monday now, and the pair had remained in the library after school to get some homework done. Cyrus’ mind couldn’t stop wondering though, and whenever he thought about TJ he felt that sad ache begin to swell up in his chest all over again. It was cooler that day, probably because of the harsh winds that kept banging doors closed when someone let air inside. The sky wasn’t cloudless like it had been on Saturday either - in fact - Cyrus could barely see any blue looking out of the library window.

 “Forgot about it,” the girl sighed after a moment, “there are more pressing matters.” 

 Cyrus averted his gaze. “Like what?” 

 “Like TJ,” said Buffy, straight forward as she always was.

 He sighed, knowing well that lying would be a fruitless, particularly when it came to Buffy. That girl could pick up on the slightest of expression changes.

 “There’s nothing to say about him,” Cyrus shrugged, pretending to busy himself with note taking, “he doesn’t like me. It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

 Buffy just scoffed though, turning in her chair to face the boy fully. “That’s just what he was telling Kira - you don’t know for sure.” 

 Cyrus found himself shrugging again. “Seemed pretty real to me.”

 “What about all those messages, then?”

 Cyrus felt his face flush at that. Guilt washed over him like an ice bucket anytime he thought about those texts, and the fact that he never responded to them. He didn’t doubt that TJ was worried about him after all, he just doubted his ability to lie right the boy’s face. Or even over text. 

 “He thinks I was mad because Kira suggested it in the first place,” he explained, leaning back against his chair, “not because...”

 Buffy seemed to get the point because her face softened. She placed a hand on his shoulder. 

 “Hey - we still don’t know for sure, okay? I think you should talk to him before you come to any conclusions.”

 “It’s too late for that, the conclusions have been drawn,” Cyrus sighed, a smile ghosting over his lips at the exasperated look Buffy gave him.

 She opened her mouth to respond, but a voice from behind them interrupted her.

 “Hey, guys.”

 Cyrus’ eyes widened comically, and he whirled around in his chair. 

 “TJ,” he breathed out. 

 Buffy was standing up in an instant, collecting up her things and giving TJ a pat on the shoulder as he walked past. 

 “I’ll let you two talk.”

 Cyrus sighed again. He had not counted this in the slightest, but he supposed it would’ve been hard to postpone much longer. They did go to the same school, after all.

 He glanced up at TJ again when the boy didn’t make to sit down, eyebrows raised. He looked nervous now, hands shoved in his pockets, and Cyrus felt another pang of guilt. 

 Why weren’t feelings a thing people could just turn off? 

 “Do you think we could take this somewhere more...you know...”

 Cyrus smiled slightly. “Private? Yeah, I guess so.”

 He paused for a moment to scan the library, and his eyes landed on a bookshelf row right by the corner that people rarely visited. He packed up his things and left them in a neat pile, gesturing for TJ to follow him. 

 It was the corner of the library that the least amount of light seemed to reach, however, it was still relatively lit by the small window sitting high above eye level. Pale light was filtering in due to the overcast weather, and it made TJ’s face seem somewhat grey as the boy came to a halt in front of him. 

 “You’ve been avoiding me.”

 It wasn’t a question, although Cyrus desperately wanted it to be. It was clear that T.J. saw right through what he was doing, so there was no point in denying it. A part of him still wanted to.

 “I’m sorry,” he settled on saying, voice soft, “I’ve just been...um...I don’t know. How’d things go with Kira?” 

 TJ sighed, the hints of an exasperated smile at the corner of his lips. “Cyrus - I care about you. Let’s not talk about Kira right now, okay?”

 Cyrus swallowed thickly, slightly taken aback by the words. He gave a quick nod nonetheless, glancing nervously down at the ground.

 “I’m...I’m sorry for running away. And for not texting you back. And for avoiding you today. I’ve been trying to get over something, and having you around makes it a bit hard...”

 TJ’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “What have you been trying to get over?”

 Cyrus averted his gaze to the ground, his hands fidgeting anxiously inside his pockets. 

 “Um...”

 Well. It’s now or never. 

 “Okay, I have to tell you something. Promise you won’t interrupt until I’m done?”

 TJ nodded, and Cyrus looked up again, gaze relatively steady despite his nerves. 

 “I um...I...” he could already feel himself tearing up slightly, frustratingly enough.

 “When I saw you at the park with Kira...and she um, she said those things-“ TJ visibly winced “I...I got upset, but not just because she said them.”

 TJ looked confused again now, looking as though he was holding himself back from interrupting. Cyrus continued on, taking his hands out is his pocket when they began to shake.

 “I was upset because I like you. And - before you say anything - it’s okay that you don’t like me back! I can get over it! But...for a few days, it just hurt a lot. I’m really sorry.” 

 TJ’s face visibly softened at the confession. He took a small step forward. “Cyrus, I-“

 “Please don’t say you’re sorry,” Cyrus pleaded, “it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

 The boy just shook his though, the beginnings of a smile appearing on his face. “Cyrus,” he paused, stepping right up to the boy and taking both of his hands, “I was lying to Kira. I like you too.”

 Cyrus’ expression was stunned for a few long moments as he took the information in, but as soon as he had an amazed smile formed on his lips. “You do?”

 “Of course,” TJ smiled, in that soft tone he had reserved specifically for the boy. “You’re amazing.”

 Cyrus could definitely feel his heart melting now. He looked up bashfully and bit his lip, unsure of what to do next. 

 He was currently holding hands with TJ Kippen, which something he had only ever dared dream about doing. 

 “Can I um...can I kiss you?” TJ asked, eyes flitting down to Cyrus’ lips for a brief moment.

 Okay. Someone pinch him. 

 Cyrus could only bring himself to nod, glad that the other boy was initiating something so he didn’t have to. The only kiss he’d had in his life was with Iris, but he knew already that this one would be different. TJ nodded, breath slightly shaky as he leaned down. Cyrus stood up on his tip-toes, and before he knew it, their lips were connecting for a few moments. It wasn’t long, but at that moment, it was enough for them. 

 In those few seconds alone, Cyrus could confidently say that kissing T.J. was drastically different from kissing Iris. It felt freeing, rather than confining, without the ever-present worry in the back of his head, nagging him about something be wrong.

 TJ pulled him in for a hug after that and Cyrus happily obliged, resting his head against the boy’s chest. He felt a kiss being placed on his head, anddammit, why did he have to blush so easily?

 Something hit him then that had a wide smile appearing on his lips. “Hey - I have something for you in my locker.”

 The words were muffled slightly by TJ’s hoodie, but the boy seemed to understand them regardless because he drew back, smiling curiously. “Like what?” 

 Cyrus pulled away fully and gave him a playful shrug. “Guess you’ll just have to come and see.”

 The pair, after collecting Cyrus’ things from the table, left the library and headed towards his locker. There was a ‘friendly’ distance between them, although he swore TJ purposely brushed their hands together a few times.

 After placing his books in his bag, he rummaged around his front pocket for a moment, letting out a triumphant ‘aha!’ when he felt the bracelet. 

 Cyrus could feel his face reddening as he pulled it out, turning around to offer it to the boy. “I know it’s not much,” he rushed out, “but Andi convinced me I should make it for you. You obviously don’t have to wear it or anyth-“

 “I love it,” TJ interrupted him, smiling brightly. “I’m wearing it every day.”

 Cyrus bit his lip, fighting back a smile as he watched the boy slip it onto his wrist. 

 “It’s gay,” said TJ, “just like me!” 

 He glanced wearily around the corridor after that, the smile returning to his face when he was certain that no one else was there. 

 Cyrus grinned and walked forward right into TJ’s arms, giving him another hug. 

 He was so gone.

#tyrus #tyrus fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #andi mack #my fics