#Though perhaps it would have been better if we'd kept it that way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meshlasolus · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories (44/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: a lil angst, mostly fluff, again, mace windu

Summary: Still trapped alongside Mace Windu, you figure out a method of escape, but time is running out, along with the oxygen.

A/n: hey everyone, guess who's super excited bc she finally cut and dyed the fabric for the padme lake dress? MEEEE!!! anyway, enjoy this, it was a product of a case of mountain dew... yes you read that correctly, a case. (i'm adhd so it actually calms me and helps me focus lol)

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 2.4k

The oxygen levels were depleting, as in this room, with the doors tightly sealed, and a limited amount of airflow from the broken venting system, there wasn't enough breathable air for both you and Master Windu.

You'd suggested to him that perhaps you could try crawling back through the vent to the original entrance, hoping that maybe there would be some progress made, but he explained to you that, 'if there wasn't enough air in the vent to circulate in this small room, then there sure as hell wouldn't be any to last you both through the entire crawl space, and you'd both suffocate to death in a vent.'

You almost laughed at that comment, but your air supply was limited, so you figured you better not waste it so frivolously.

"Do you think they know where we are?" You asked, leaning your head against the wall to elongate your breathing, as if it would help with the lack of oxygen.

"If they knew, we'd be out of here by now, but if I know Master Kenobi, and I do, he's probably sent out every squadron he has to look for you," he narrowed his gaze at you, and it was only now that you felt he might know more about you and Obi-Wan then he will admit or let on to.

"As if I'm the only person of importance in this situation," you replied sarcastically to him, and though he was used to your snarky attitude by now, he found himself not minding it so much anymore. He'd seen a different side to you, the good, and honest, and reliable side of you.

"The only one of importance to him. You always have been," he breathed out, rolling his eyes and moving his head to the side to emphasize that. "Ever since you came to the temple, you've had him wrapped around your finger, you just didn't know it."

"Even if that's true, you're still of great importance to him. I believe that after Master Qui Gon was killed, he began to look up to you as a mentor," you'd seen him, even at your age, and watched the way he acted around Mace Windu. It was the same way he would act around his former Master, and it sometimes hurt you to remember that he'd lost his only father figure and was trying desperately to find a new one. You'd never had that problem, because you lacked a father your entire life, it wasn't like you knew what you were missing out on. You didn't know any better. If you had to pick someone, you might say that Master Yoda had shown you the most kindness and fatherly guidance in your time as a youngling than you had received otherwise.

"That's strange to hear, coming from you," he crossed his arms, intrigued, but also a bit shocked. Here you were, already forgiven him for all of the things the council has ever done against you because of his influence, and you were talking as if no bad blood was kept between you. You were easy to forgive, because keeping a grudge, and keeping the anger from a past dispute was against the Jedi way. You were a firm believer of the first lesson you ever learned as Jedi, which was to let go.

"It's the truth," you shrugged your shoulders. He seemed to be pleased with that bit of information and stored it away for another time. "I know that when they find us, he'll be equally as happy to see you as he is to see me."

"If, they find us..."

"When," you corrected him. Obi-Wan's lessons had helped you immensely in only the last twenty-four hours. His training was flowing through you consistently at all times, but even now, it was more pronounced in every action. Do not focus on the negative.

He gave you a look that told you that you were being impractical, but really, he was holding on to just as much hope as you were that they were going to come, because this was not his ideal or preferred way of death.

"I'm going to try and reach him again," you said, with optimism lacing your features. He waved his hand as if to say 'go ahead, knock yourself out.'

You let your eyes flutter closed and straightened your seated position. A Jedi's Posture was to be held when meditating in any form.

You branched out your signature to all living things around you, trying to locate his being on this maker-forsaken planet. You felt the grass that grew through the dirt, and the trees that covered the mountains. You could even sync yourself with the worms and other small creatures hidden within the soils of this richly earthed planet.

You could feel the force in every living being, and once you finally found the presence you were searching for, you stopped, exhaling a short breath, as all the breaths you took now were unable to be deeply inhaled. You let your signature wrap around him and hoped he would no longer be too preoccupied to grab ahold of it. He had either been speaking to someone the last time you attempted, or he was busy on using his force abilities, unable to focus enough to let you in.

Thankfully, he quickly synced it with his own, letting your minds become a way of communication.

'Obi,' you tested your connection, hoping he could hear your voice echoing in his head.

'My love, where are you?' he was fast to respond with his question, and you didn't hesitate to let him know exactly where he could find you.

'In a room by the ventilation shaft,' was not a good enough response apparently, because his next thought spilled into your mind, which was that they'd been looking for said ventilation shaft and could not seem to find it, as it was likely buried beneath the rubble. 'Can you feel me?'

'Yes,' he knew what your meaning was, but waited for your direction anyway.

'Follow that feeling, I'll lead you to us.'

Without breaking contact over the bond, he was able to summon some troopers, telling them to come in the direction he was headed. Anakin noticed their leave and decided that Obi-Wan had probably been able to connect with you and find out your location, so he advised his own troops to follow along with the others, and he would catch up soon.

You'd been mediating for a while now, and Mace had wondered if you were still trying, or if you'd failed to reach out to him. Little did he know that your extended signature was like a beacon, lighting the pathway to your rescue.

He watched on with great curiosity, wondering how you were able to stay so optimistic in a situation such as this. It seemed impossible for anyone to be so hopeful while trapped in a room where soon neither of you would be able to breathe. He hated to admit it, but from his point of view, things were looking very grim. He'd even though once or twice already that this could be the day that he dies. He's lived a long while, and supposed it wouldn't be so horrible, but his ideal death would be something meaningful, a sacrifice of some kind. Perhaps he'd wish to take on a worthy opponent, and fall only because it was to save another life. He would have been fine to have known that all the other Jedi escaped off this planet because he held the droids off long enough, but then you came and attempted to save him. You'd succeeded halfway, but even still, you were trapped along with him, and he felt guilty for it.

"Padawan, if we don't make it out of here, I-"

"Shh," you said aloud, keeping your brain focused, your eyes remaining closed, and the force signature surrounding you staying strongly intact.

"Excuse me?" he said in a sassy tone, because honestly, he couldn't believe that you'd just shushed him, in this dire situation, you just shushed him, the ex-Grand Master of the council.

"I need to concentrate."

He figured that much, but given that every breath he took was shallow, he imagined you'd be giving up soon for lack of air to meditate on. Breathing was essential to the act, and he knew you couldn't be better off than he was, as you were taking in far more air than he did.

"I don't think there's any point in continuing your attempt, they haven-"

"I'm guiding him," you said shortly, never breaking your intense hold on the focus you'd built. Obi-Wan was the center, and everything else was in the peripheral.

Master Windu was surprised to hear it, but having now the words of confirmation, his hope was reignited. He couldn't help but think though, there isn't enough oxygen to last much longer, and should you pass out from lack of air, this guidance you were giving would subside, and you both would die here, more than six feet under.

"They're close," you informed him, your face never breaking or showing emotion. Everything was clear and even about your expression, complete serenity, basking in the presence of another. He couldn't help but wonder what it should feel like to have a friend and mentor that a connection like this was possible. You were meditating on him- however unconventional that sounded- and it was working.

Above his head, he could hear the faint sound of drills, and he looked to the cavern like ceiling to see the dirt begin to fall from it. He stood up, ready to be out of this place, and supposed you would be to, but when he glanced over at you, you had indeed passed out, from lack of air and major use of the force. He moved over to your side of the room and tried his best to cover you from falling debris, and once there was a hole, big enough to let in the light of the setting sun, he breathed in deeply, feeling the air begin to infiltrate the room once again.

A rope was dropped, and low and behold, Commander Cody slid down it, ready to help them out. "General, I've got them."

Mace bent down, however in a delicate state he still was, and scooped you from the ground, knowing it would be harder to wake you from a weakness induced slumber. He turned around to see a ladder being lowered into the newly formed pit, and figured he should probably let Cody help him carry you, as he was still feeble from lack of fresh air all this time.

Going up the ladder, he could see the light of day, and from the length of the ladder to the surface, he could see that all this time you'd both been about seven feet below the ground. Perhaps if he'd known that, he would have tried a more upward escape. He climbed out the top and was met with the worried face of Master Kenobi. He nodded to him, and turned back to see that Cody had you, safely nestled against him.

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, but a moment later, he was beginning to let fear arise in him for a whole other reason. He took you from Cody immediately, kneeling down and holding you in his arms, inspecting every little part of you to see what the trouble was, and why you were unconscious.

"She needs an oxygen tank," Mace told him, loud enough for the medical team to hear him, and rush off in the direction of the supplies to obtain it for you.

Master Windu, as strange as it sounded, watched the scene unfold before him with great sympathy. Attachments were forbidden amongst the Jedi, and yet, there you both sat, and as he'd learned today, you were both more capable because of your attachment then you would have been without it. He could see the care your Master had for you, worn on his face as he looked upon you, concerned for your well-being. He didn't even know the full extent of things between you, but he could tell the bond you had was strong, and great power was in it.

"I have seen great things from your Padawan today. Strength, courage, wisdom, and overall, perseverance," he said, and Obi-Wan lifted his head to face him when he heard this. He was shocked, to say the least. He knew, of course, that having spent that long in an enclosed space, he might get to see a different side of you, the real side of you, but never did he imagine his old friend would change his opinion so quickly. He was always so set in his ways, determined to keep things traditional at all times, and you were by no means traditional, but you were a true Jedi, and now he could see that.

"These qualities have been in her a long time," he agreed, hoping that there was not an upcoming 'but' to follow in Mace's words.

"I understand that. It is my belief that she is now ready for the trials."

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide, and he couldn't help the smile that come across his face. He'd known you were ready for a long time now, but through your dedication and patience, it was now that the opposing forces would grant you the opportunity.

"As soon as there is a lull in the war, she will take them under your guidance," and with this, Mace Windu concluded his speech, standing, and leaving with a small bow. Obi-Wan ducked his head in a show of reverence before he was gone. He smiled from ear to ear, his pride showing through the massive grin he wore.

He leaned down and kissed your head, and when he pulled away, he noticed your eyes beginning to blink open slowly. You smiled right back at him as soon as your vision allowed for clear sight, and his heart started pounding in his chest.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," you whispered, your lungs not strong enough to support your words yet. He was still waiting on the medic team to bring you that oxygen tank, but given that the station was further away from here, he had to make sure you didn't tire yourself out too much.

"And I you... Rest your voice, little one. We'll talk later, alright?"

You nodded the best you could against his arm, and leaned into it, letting your eyes close once more.

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan fanart #obi wan smut #kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan x oc #obi wan angst #obi wan fluff

362 notes · View notes

scoutfnch · 4 months

Text

Losing My Best Friend to My Ex-Boyfriend

An act of betrayal leads a writer to ponder what it means to end a friendship

By HANNAH HORVATH

Jessa always refused to use the words "best friend." I long feared her reticence masked a reluctance to fully welcome me into her life. That, in her eyes, I might be somehow unworthy of the love, praise, and hugs that I so eagerly bestowed upon her. She nurtured all of my insecurities, allowing them to fester, then grow.

I realize now, with the benefit of the wisdom that can only come once you've lived as long a twenty-seven years as I have, that this was probably my favorite thing about her.

Adam always refused to use the word "boyfriend." He courted me for months. His method involved me inviting myself over to his apartment, where we'd have weird sex that never quite satisfied me. He was, and remains, the only person I've ever truly loved.

But I realize now that what initially attracted me to him were the same things that attracted me to her.

So perhaps it should come as no surprise that Adam and Jessa are in love with each other.

Adam finally agreed to be my boyfriend on a sticky hot night in the summer of 2012. I fell off his bicycle and he told me everything about him. Things I didn't know because, as he reminded me, I never asked. He loved books. He was an alcoholic. He owned pants.

Is was the same night that Jessa met Adam for the first time. "He does look like the original man," I recall her saying.

I met Jessa for the first time on the campus of Oberlin College in the fall of 2006. I chased her around Northern Ohio for seven months before a heroin addiction landed her in rehab. She wouldn't return to school.

She had no Facebook or MySpace even though it was 2006. She didn't understand text messaging either. "Word alerts," she called them. We kept in touch on the phone. She'd call me at all hours of the night. She'd wake me up and I'd pretend that I wasn't asleep. I loved hearing her (possibly fake, likely exaggerated) British accented voice in my ear as I listened with wonder. She'd drone on about whatever guy had fallen in love with her or whatever country she was in that day. [...] She disappeared as quickly as she had from Oberlin, stranding me at her father's house Upstate. She'd end up in rehab again.

In her absence, I fell apart. My long-dormant Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was back and in a big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big way. I needed Jessa, though what aide she might have been able to provide remains unclear.

Adam was there. He came running. Literally, running shirtless through the streets of Brooklyn to my door in Greenpoint.

Our relationship began again in earnest. A few months later, I got a phone call in the middle of the night. It was the same person who always called me in the middle of the night.

[...]

We broke up, and after a few months, Adam wants to get back together. I said no. I started dating a co-worker.

Some time between then and when we broke up, Adam and Jessa kissed for the first time, had sex for the first time, told each other for the first time - things I might not even know about. They fell in love.

Maybe they are better for each other than I ever was for either of them. Their addictions are to substances, but mine are to people like them. People whose behavior confirms my darkest fears about myself. People who give me an excuse not to be happy.

My story is a simple tale of jealousy. Or, of beating jealousy back like in the medieval dragon it is. In this story, I am Viggo Mortensen in "Lord of the Rings," and jealousy is powerless against my sword.

And this begins the way all stories of jealousy do... all great stories of jealousy... which is with my ex-boyfriend and my best friend fucking. And this is not just any best friend. This is the best friend who I would say looks like Brigitte Bardot had a baby with a mermaid. She literally had an open fungal sore on her face and Matthew Perry still asked her out.

So, um, I guess I'm not what you would describe as, like, a chill girl. I'm not like a cool, relaxed lady. Like, you would never meet me and be like, "That Hannah, she really goes with the flow like a funky youth." You would be like, "Has she snorted Adderall in the last 60 minutes?"

So when I found out about my ex-boyfriend and my best friend, um, I was weirdly calm, considering that fact. Frozen, even, you know? I tried to imagine all these horrible things, like him licking her elephant tramp stamp and sucking her tiny tit while she cupped his balls and then he sucked on her lip, which is shaped like a rosebud.

And I tried to get myself really worked up and just imagine all this horrible stuff on a loop, but the fact is that I wasn't angry, I was sad. I was sad about what I thought they knew I was. I thought they were sitting there going like, "Oh, God, Hannah's freaking out. She's gonna kill a cat and she's gonna nail it to our door. She's going to cry so hard that all of Greenpoint fills with tears and it's like fuckin' Waterworld."

And you know what? They weren't wrong. I had to fight really, really hard not to be that girl. And it wasn't easy. I thought about, um, throwing a bike through his window, but, A, he lives on the third floor. I have very poor upper body strength. And, B, he probably would have appreciated it and been like, "Thanks for the bike."

I thought about sending her a text that said, "How does the wind feel caressing your two faces, young lady?" But instead I sat and cried and thought and ate and wrote and masturbated thinking about Chris Farley, which is a thing from my childhood that I haven't fully worked through yet.

But when I heard tonight's theme was jealousy, I knew that I needed an end to my story, a real end, and that end came about 20 minutes before I arrived here when I delivered a very nice and not at all cheap fruit basket to his door, along with a note that said, "Good luck. I mean it sincerely. In perpetuity, Hannah."

'Cause that's the fact, you know? I'm Hannah forever. No matter what I do, no matter whether I, you know, start a new nuclear missile crisis with my emotions or just sit back and chill and give someone a fruit basket. I can only control the mayhem that I create around me.

But the crazy thing is that when I showed up, I heard screaming and I heard my name and I heard madness, and I knew that I was free, at least for tonight. That's all. Thank you.

#GIRLS (2012)#lena dunham #hannah horvath #adam sackler #hbo girls #adam driver #jessa johansson

19 notes · View notes

liiilyevans · 1 year

Note

I'm being greedy and going off script here with this prompt:

"He'd get on his knees right now if she asked him to."

Can you tell I want more of that story you just dropped? 😍

How about a prequel? In which James Potter gets on his knees.

"Can you believe that kid?" James asked as he watched the fifth year slink off. "Actually thought we'd buy that bullshit about sleepwalking."

Lily rolled her eyes. "And you could have come up with a better excuse?"

"Of course," James said, tugging at his robes. "And a much more exciting one, too."

He thought she was fighting back a smile at that, but James could never be sure with her. Perhaps, that was what he liked - that she kept him on his toes.

"How's Remus?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, glancing sidesway at her. He had sneaking suspicion she knew about Moony's fury little problem, though she never asked about it outright. "That badger almost did permanent damage, though."

That was the newest story that the Marauders were circulating around school about why Remus was in the hospital wing. Sirius had gotten very colorful with it.

Lily hummed. "Shame that it only got Remus and not anyone else."

"I know. Poor lad has the worst luck."

They both grinned at each other then, and James was once again struck by how pretty Lily Evans was. Her hair was loose tonight and she'd left her top robe in her room, leaving her in only a skirt and a button up. If he squinted just so, he could make out a pink bra under shirt. But James wouldn't do that. His mother had taught him to be a gentleman after all.

James cleared his throat as he looked away from her. "Are you ready for our potions exam?"

Lily blew out a breath. "I suppose. I hate that Slughorn isn't going to tell us who are partners are til the day of."

"Afraid he'll pair you with Snape?" he asked. Lily and the grease bucket had a falling out in fifth year after he'd called her a slur. James could have sucker punched him for that. Until then, Lily and Snape had been Slughorn's star pupils, and he'd paired them together for every assignment.

"Nah," she said. "He knows we don't get on anymore. I'm not worried about that. I'm just stressed."

James nodded. N.E.W.T.s year was tough, and after this they'd be off to the Ministry to find jobs. The thought was terrifying. "Well, you're welcome to come down to the pitch with me and hit a couple of Bludgers any time you want to burn off some stress."

Lily scoffed. "I'd rather not." She glanced sideways at him. "Is that the only way you burn off stress? Because I'm open to other suggestions."

He shrugged as he thought about it. "For the most part yeah, just burn off a lot steam and fly around the pitch-"

"You don't burn off that steam with anyone?"

James' head snapped toward her, confusion clouding his eyes. "No? I mean, I train with the team, but when I'm stressed, I usually fly by myself."

"But you offered to let me fly with you?" she said. That was when James noticed that they'd stopped walking and were standing in the middle of a deserted corridor.

"Well, yeah, we're friends-"

She shoved him then. Right back into a wall. "James," she said evenly. "You're an idiot."

Then she kissed him. His eyes widened. Never in his life had he thought he'd be lucky enough to kiss Lily Evans in a deserted hallway. Yet here he was. The fates were so generous.

Quickly, James grabbed her hips and yanked her fully against him. She was warm and smelled of jasmine. This must a be a dream, he thought. One that felt so real it could mimic life because Lily Evans would not kiss him, not like this.

Her mouth was demanding against his own. He spun her then, pressing her back against the wall. That was when she moaned, and James felt his knees go weak. This couldn't be a dream; he couldn't have dreamed up such a sweet sound. It would be a cruel fate to wake up now.

"We should go back to my dorm," she panted, as James blazed a trail of kisses down her neck. He hummed and pressed his knee between her legs. "I'm not shagging you in the middle of the hallway, James."

James pulled away took at her then. "We're shagging?"

"Are you opposed?"

"Fuck, no."

They somehow managed to make it back to Lily's Head dorm without a teacher spotting them - a miracle really. By the time they were inside, James' tie had been loosened and two buttons on Lily's shirt had been undone.

"Your room," he muttered as he pressed her against the wall, lips against her pulse point.

She waved over his shoulder. "Over there."

James didn't bother to look where she was waving. Lily was much too intoxicating to look away from; he couldn't have even if Dumbledore had burst through the door and started singing 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs.' So, instead, he dropped to his knees and slid his hands up Lily's thighs.

Her green eyes were burning as she lifted her right foot. His hands grazed satin and tugged. Off came her underwear, over one foot and then the other. His right hand found the crock of her knee and he pressed a quick kiss to the inside of it.

"Lily, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yes."

That all he needed to hear. James pressed another kiss to her thigh, this time higher up and firmer. Lily's hands found his hair, then, tugging sharply. In that moment, pain had never felt so good.

"Lily," he muttered, as her skirt became more of a belt.

"Stop fucking around and-" She gasped as he latched onto her clit. "Holy shit."

James wasn't going to lie. Her moaning did boost his ego to an unhealthy level.

Her hands tightened in his hair and she made the prettiest noises; he was sure he wouldn't last through this if she kept doing that. As he pressed the flat of his tongue against her, his hand found her entrance. She was soaked. James couldn't help but groan against her.

"Lily, you're so wet."

She just hummed and pressed her hips forward against his hand. James slid a finger inside her and swore. She was so warm and clenched around his finger so sweetly. It made him wonder how she'd feel clenched around other things.

He started slowly at first, dragging his finger softly over her sensitive flesh. When her moans got louder, he began to slowly speed up, though his tongue was a sharp contrast, slow and steady against her. He would never get enough of the taste of her. If she offered, he would gladly go down on her every night for the rest of his life.

"James," she gasped as she grasped his hair again. She clenched around his fingers - once, twice, three times - then she was sagging against the wall as he road her through her orgasm. His left hand came up to grasp her hip and steady her.

Slowly, he stood up, one hand on her hip and the other grasping her waist.

"You . . . taste so good," he muttered.

"And you have a wicked mouth, James Potter," she said. "Are you staying the night?"

"If you want me to."

"Good, because you're going to do that again," she said tugging him down to her. "After you've fucked me."

#jily #lily evans #james potter #smut #answered #my writing

75 notes · View notes

bitterarcs · 1 month

Text

A causal thing turned a genuine hobby — the pass time for the pass time of being entirely lazy and liberal with gil. Reno's heart was not entirely made out of coal. Sure, kids were still starving and villages being industrialized for the sake of ShinRa, but at least the Turk was spreading his wealth with some of the hardest working women on the planet. There was doing something vile for the sake of survival as he had done for many years as a child and teenager, and then there was doing it with a smile on face and sweet giggle spilling past glossy lips.

There wasn't enough gil in the world that would have Reno hoping on wrinkled and entitled cock with a smile on his face; he was a beast best suited for ripping and killing with a genuine smile on his face. It was why the honeybees impressed him so much, and why he was so generous. Sure, it made him look like a loser — only after pussy with a price tag, yet he was another kind of loser . . a man who did not know what to do with his time when he was not badgering his partner and best friend. Reno, being the perfect example of an optimist, saw the best of any most scenarios; it was better to spend his time making such women laugh as opposed to being a bastard betting on chocobo races and purchasing expensive paintings.

The slum kid did not fall far from the . . industrial garbage, even in wealth. He was half a bottle of cognac in, but more juiced up on the company of an adoring crowd and finishing another day of hard work at ShinRa. He vaguely recognized two typically suited ShinRa employees, of which kept to themselves while trying to attract a girl or two for their own entertainment. Reno only saw it fit to be more audacious with his speech and action.The queen bee making her grand entrance pulled off all the excess company, not that the Turk would complain. She was the best part of coming to the Honeybee Inn. What began as a rather normal smile ( a rarity for Reno ) quickly transformed into the typical mischievous tug of the lips.

( ❛ People sure loooove rumours, mm? The only way a Turk gets fired is with a bullet in their skull. ❜ )

Dramatic, the bare pointer finger of his right hand jerked upwards to tap his forehead between his scarlet eyebrows.

( ❛ Not like that would ever happen. I was just messing around. Part of my charm. They honestly shoulda' known this hiring some disgusting slum kid; I'm just too skilled to pass up. ❜ )

Not that it would ever happen what with Rufus taking the throne. . though there had been a time Reno was under the muzzle of a ShinRa firing squad and, the little prodigal son had willingly worked to bring the Turks down. Times changed. Relationships changed. Reno could never imagine not being a Turk, however the impossible scenario was made queerly into life; it did not seem so horrible all of the sudden. It was similar to the dream he had as a child prior to joining the Turks only better, more prestigious. More surprising, his ego wouldn't mind sharing what she rightfully built up; he would be honoured in fact.

( ❛ It would be kinda' cool, huh? We'd make a helluva duo honestly. Thirteen year old me would have salivated at the chance. Maybe if Rufus gets actually sick of me, I'll come here and drag Rude with me. ❜ )

It spoke volumes that his 100 percent certainty regarding his dream career was brought down to 99 percent, perhaps lower. Melissa held such power and provoked such thought.

Melissa found Reno surrounded by some of her own employees - the girls were always easily seduced by his charm (and fat tips), and having a guy like him around who was easy on the eyes and made them laugh turned the Turk into an undisputed favorite. As soon as the queen herself made it there, she dismissed the other ladies - and leaned forward over the booth where the redhead was sprawled over, a sly smile on painted lips.

"A few bees have been hinting at your bosses being this close to firing you today," the madame remarked with a conspiratorial voice, the type reserved for juicy gossip only, "If the worst come to pass - would you be willing to become my partner instead? Maybe with you as my co-ruler, we could make some changes and bring some boys into our main cast, too."

It was a joke, clearly - Melissa did not expect Reno to get fired. But it didn't change the fact that they had similar backgrounds, their fates entwining in ways which solidified her trust and made sure that he would always have a friend looking out for him. At any rate - the imaginary scenario of Reno screening future male workers was just too damn entertaining. @stingslikeabee

( is this a love confession, melissa ? )

#[ ⁰⁰⁵ ; reading your confessions live on air ]#stingslikeabee #Reno: “Actually. . .”

9 notes · View notes

changingplumbob · 5 months

Text

York Household: Chapter 8, Part 6

Time to move in Paris! First up a look at the foster home she's been living in, and it's manager. Then back home Deanna finally finishes the robotics project she's been working on and Paris ages up.

Here we have Ms Gallheizer's Orphanage built by EA ID: Chronicll

Paris: Home sweet hell

Deanna: At least you're finally leaving

Paris: Hopefully everyone will be eating and we can slip in unnoticed

Aaron: We do have to tell the manager you're leaving though, legally speaking

Paris: She'll be thrilled

Deanna: Should we go find her

Paris: We'd better not disturb dinner

Ms G: Where have you been

Paris: I signed out for the afternoon

Ms G: But not the evening. Dinner is at 5:30 sharp and you are late. Again!

Paris: Sorry

Ms G: Don't say sorry, be better girl! You've been here long enough to know

Paris: It won't happen again Ms Gallheizer, because I'm leaving

Ms G: It's not your birthday yet so get upstairs and be glad I kept your dinner portion aside

Paris: I...

Ms G: No smart reply? Of course that would require being smart

Aaron: Perhaps I should introduce myself

Ms G: Why? You a cop?

Ms G: A social worker?

Aaron: Well no-

Ms G: Then you have no authority under my roof

Aaron: I'm a lawyer

Ms G: Sure you are

Aaron: Mr York, prosecutor in Tartosa

Ms G: We're not in Tartosa Mr York

Aaron: Perhaps we should talk in your office, Paris has things to do

Ms G: On that we agree

Deanna: She is exactly like you described, maybe a bit worse

Paris: You think your pa can sort it

Deanna: He can be your legal guardian for a day, no problem, promise

Paris: My room is this way

Deanna: I didn't hear much from the dining room

Paris: No talking allowed at dinner, one of the first rules we learn

Deanna: What a hag

Aaron: Her birthday is only tomorrow, she would have to leave then anyway

Ms G: Be that as it may this is highly irregular. I raise my kids to be independent dependable members of society, not run under their girlfriends skirts

Aaron: You certainly can turn a phrase

Ms G: Paris has no self discipline, give her an inch she will run a mile. How do I know you can provide a suitable environment

Aaron: It's just one day

Calista: Is this the right room

Aaron: This is my wife, Captain York

Ms G: Captain?

Calista: Is there a problem here amore

Aaron: Ms Gallheizer had some doubts about our parental skills

Calista: Did she now

Ms G: Well- Perhaps I jumped the gun

Aaron: So we can take her home

Ms G: Why you would want to is beyond me. But yes, I'll get you the forms

Paris: It's strange, these four walls have been my life for almost a decade

Deanna: No posters

Paris: *shrilly* no damaging the walls

Deanna: *laughs* feel free to coat our walls at home

Paris: Home sounds nice

Deanna: Ready to leave it behind

Paris: Babe, did you notice I already packed

Deanna: *laughs* I did

Kelly: My tooth still isn't out yet

Calista: It'll fall out, don't worry

Kelly: What if I accidentally eat it

Aaron: I did that once, I survived

Calista: Aaron! Chin up caro, you'll be okay

After dinner Kelly mopes to mantis for a while before deciding to just pull it out. Success! Evil laugh!

Paris gets her stuff moved in and Deanna welcomes her with a celebratory pillow fight.

Paris: Your pillows are so poofy

Deanna: All the better to hit you with

Paris: Oh two can play at that game babe

Deanna: I hope you enjoy losing

Paris: In your dreams. En garde!

In the end Paris concedes the fight. She does a quick bit of study for her exams tomorrow then happily climbs in to bed beside her favourite person.

Paris woke up early from a horrible nightmare so decides to polish off her homework until Deanna wakes up.

Deanna: Happy birthday baby

Paris: Thanks. I'm not looking forward to these exams, thank the watcher they're my last

Deanna: You'll be great

Paris: I average a c miss valedictorian but thanks

Deanna: And Joey helped me make you a cake

Paris: I don't suppose I could just age up now

Deanna: No way, you go crush those exams, then come home. We'll celebrate then baby

Paris: Okay, last day of high school, here I go!

Calista had another awful nightmare so works out early to try chase the scare away. She reaches level 10 fitness and discovers she is a perfectionist. I might need to make the skill gain even slower than it already is at this rate! Deanna finally finishes... whatever the heck this thing is.

Pictures of the quadcopter doing quad-copter things

To my complete surprise, but not Deanna's, Paris absolutely aced her final exams! It's finally age up time for her and as she makes a wish Deanna cheers her on. Deanna did a cute little song as well. Paris rolls Creative as her third trait which compliments her cuisine hobby that she rolled earlier.

Deanna: Want to go on a date

Paris: With you? Absolutely babe

Deanna: I'm thinking, beachside

Paris: Sounds perfect

The two head to central Tartosa and take some time to soak in the romantic atmosphere.

Paris: It's so lovely here, and no snow

Deanna: Snow can be good for snuggling

Paris: Maybe so

Paris: But we don't need snow to snuggle

Deanna: I love you baby

Paris: Right back at you babe

They share a kiss and a cuddle

Paris: That sunset is stunning

Deanna: You're stunning

Paris: De, we're in public

Deanna: What do you want to do then

Paris: Play in a g rated way, come on

Deanna: I haven't built a sandcastle in ages

Paris: I won't hold it against you. I've always loved making them. My parents...

Deanna: Did they help

Paris: Yeah, we made them as a family. Once we made one as big as me. I wasn't a tall toddler but still

Deanna: Do you have any photos

Paris: A couple

Paris: Photos of my parents that is, not the sandcastles. They only exist in my memory now

Deanna: I think we did a pretty good job with this one, a castle for my princess

Paris: You're sweet

Deanna: Sometimes

Paris: All times De, I know it

Deanna: And you're happy, with us?

Paris: I am babe

And this chapter wraps up back home with everyone in their right beds. I had to take some shots of the house again as I love property pictures, and sleeping pictures, to bookend my chapters.

Previous Part ... Next Part (New Goth)

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #Rotation8 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #YorkHousehold #DeannaYork #ParisPearl #AaronYork #CalistaYork #KellyYork #simblr #R0801

7 notes · View notes

mythvoiced · 9 months

Text

@velvetineblue | continued~

It's easy to let things fall into the background when someone so much smaller than her somehow survived the same thing she did. Some sort of specialist would have something to say on the matter, how it's easy for a group of people like them to for once not look at their mangled selves solely because someone so much smaller than them (in every sense of the word) needs care and warmth, needs some sort of shield between her and the world none of them can save her from anymore.

María isn't that specialist.

María doesn't even spend time thinking about these things.

There's no analyzing the softening of her being in the face of Elise's games.

There is, though, albeit relatively subconscious, the analyzing of her peers.

Taiyang exists somewhere outside her peripheral, has so far at least. It'd been easy to gravitate towards Patrick and Deva, something about their connection to one another had slotted them into the empty spaces in María's perspective onto the world that she'd needed someone like them to slip into.

Assertive and trustworthy, reliable and soothing, shield and sword and pen and tongue, poet, soldier, and king/queen, two figures with hell to carry on their back - much like all of them - whom María looks to with the same grimaces and desperate attempts to make herself understood she might have reserved for...

Tai, on the other hand, he... He's not unreliable. He's not agitating in any way. María doesn't plop down next to him, body turning almost instantly with her legs spread away from her and her arms crossed protectively over her chest (habit, habit) with the idea she doesn't want to.

She hadn't been designated as a momentary keeper to Elise along with Taiyang and felt herself reluctant, walking into the other room begrudgingly.

But he doesn't occupy the same pedestal Deva and Patrick do - dangerous in their own way, a few steps too close to idolizing, a path she's only kept from because of her stubbornness to disagree with them.

If anything, he feels more like an older brother.

It's why she asks.

Because there's nothing wrong with him - besides what is wrong with all of them - there's nothing all too foreign about him either, same thousand yard stare she'd never admit to recognize in her own reflection when she startles him out of it, same background to have them both here in this room at this time, same desire to make a difference, but at the same time...

Not?

Because María is a selection of exposed wires Patrick might have found some way to defuse with his skills, popping and crackling and just waiting for the opportunity to set an entire house on fire with one well-placed, where Taiyang is so closed-off he might very well appear as the most 'well-adjusted' out of the bunch simply, perhaps, because he's better at keeping the haunted look off his face.

Or maybe she isn't looking hard enough.

That's why she asks. That's why she nudges his shoulder with her foot and tries to soften her frown to the point it only seems to amplify it, now with the added frustration of not appearing frustrated.

"No, we all share one goal," she's learning, picking it up from Patrick, most likely, the importance of speech, choosing the right words, calm over impulsive spitting, even if she's about as poor a learner in this context as they come.

"We don't all have the same deal," or she'd be much better at this, without the odd pause and the stern look, or the frustrated growl at the back of her throat when she folds herself to lean over, get enough into his space she might figure out how to actually read anything he portrays within it.

"And that's just a fact," she brushes a strand of hair out of her face, one gliding along her forehead she seems to harbour particular antipathy towards. Her hair is so... silky, has been, lately. So healthy. So preened. It's sickening to have as a reminder. She wonders how it'd felt like for him to grow into his persona and decides to ask... later.

"We'd all be a mess without each other, we need you as much as we need anyone here. But that's not what I'm talking about, I'm talking about your deal, your... uh... your thing," not the member of this family designed to hold 'the eloquent one' as title, that's for certain.

"Not your thing... that's- I'm not asking you to talk about anything... nothing that hurts, you know, obviously not, I-" her half-gesticulating hand falls onto the space separating them, narrowly avoiding slamming full-force into his thigh. "How... how can we help you? Or I, specifically, I bet Patrick and Deva already- they're already helpful to you."

#velvetineblue #the seeker;joan of arc;hunger games verse #the seeker;maria #give it up for the most awkward vibes i've ever designed #i have no idea what she's going on about truly but i have faith #WINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TYSM AGAIN FOR THIS I CAN'T WAIT TO EXPLORE THE VIBES HERE #SEE MORE OF TAI IN THIS VERSE hope this works for ya~#;queue

4 notes · View notes

lostinthewiind · 2 years

Text

Brave Heart: Chapter Fifty-Six

Attack on Titan

Rating: Mature

Warnings: sexual themes, death, gore, mature themes, extreme violence, body horror, blood, weapons, major character death, age-gap relationship

"Floch Forster and his cohorts have vanished from prison, along with some 100 soldiers and guards," Nile informed that small group that he had called for a meeting. "It's apparent that they planned for this mass desertion to match the timing of Eren's escape. And, for the record, I have no doubt that they perpetrated the Premier's murder. This group needs a name. From this point on, let us refer to these anti-military insurgents as the Jaegerists. I can think of no one better than Commander Hange to tell us their goal."

Hange nodded. "In the short term, their goal is to ensure that Eren meets with his brother. And in the long term, they intend to reform the military with Eren at its head. They demonstrated their resolve by way of assassinating our premier. It's obvious what provoked them to act as they have; they must have learned about the military's plan to transfer the founder, even though you kept it secret from us Scouts."

"Only because we knew exactly what would happen if we did tell you," Nile retorted. "In any case, many of these Jaegerists are from the Scouts. How will you take responsibility for their actions, Hange?"

"I'm willing to accept any punishment," she said. "But I won't resign from my post. That would be the height of irresponsibility. And there's a lot we don't know yet. These Jaegerists could have members hiding anywhere, in any branch."

"That's quite true," the same officer that had delivered the debriefing on Premier Zachary's death the night before agreed. "In fact, I might be looking at some now. Perhaps one of you will turn out to be a suicide bomber."

Hange rolled their eyes hard enough for everyone in the room to see. "Please. Don't be ridiculous, Roeg."

"We've been played for fools once, so why should we trust you now?" Roeg was unwilling to bend. "Until the Scouts prove themselves, they must be contained!"

With a heavy slam, the doors to the meeting room burst open and Pyxis, along with five of his most trusted soldiers, entered the room. "That's enough!" He put a swift end to the arguing and turned to flash an apologetic look to an older woman sitting at the side of the room—who Mikasa had previously introduced as Kiyomi Azumabito from Hizuru. "Remember that we have a guest here. And even if that weren't the case, this is no time to be bickering amongst ourselves. Hange, how many soldiers know where Zeke is confined?"

"Captain Levi is guarding him with an escort of thirty soldiers," Hange responded. "Then there are the three soldiers who deliver supplies to them. And aside from myself, that's it."

"Please have those three brought here," Pyxis requested. "Nile, is the Queen's residence secure?"

"Its location is a well-kept secret," Nile confirmed. "But I'll look into it anyway."

Hands clasped behind his back, Pyxis radiated control. "We know what Eren wants. He'll seek out Zeke first, and Historia if that fails. So we must keep both of them out of his reach at all cost."

"Yes, sir." The room echoed with acknowledgement.

"Excuse me, sir." Armin stepped forward. "You're our most senior commander. So now that the Premier's been assassinated, the only person who can lead us is you. What kind of strategy do you think we should adopt right now?"

Pyxis hummed as he thought. "Well, it seems to me they've got us beat." He threw his hands into the air to make a point. "So I was thinking we'd surrender."

Everyone froze.

"Against enemies mixed within our ranks, we have no other recourse," Pyxis explained. "Even if we did somehow manage to smoke all of them out, imagine how much blood we would have to spill. We don't have the time or the numbers to waste on such folly. It's the decisions we made as leaders that caused these soldiers to desert us; that's what brought about our defeat."

"But, sir, you can't actually intend to bow down to the people who murdered the Premier!" a woman standing in the back shouted.

Calmly, Pyxis strode across the room toward the large windows. "I knew Zachary for many years. To live and die by revolution is something that I think he would've wanted. And regardless, I don't think that any of the four soldiers who were killed would've wanted their deaths to be the cause of Eldia's downfall."

"So instead you want us to submit to the Jaeger brothers?" Nile snapped.

"No, not entirely," Pyxis denied. "We'll use Zeke's location to negotiate with Eren and trust him to accept that he has other enemies. Once we've re-established peace, we'll once again stake Eldia's survival on a test run of the Rumbling. However, we will not bring up the subject of how our leader was murdered. We'll look past it. If that is the price of saving hundreds or even thousands of our comrades, then we'll pay it."

No one in the room seemed all too pleased with this course of action, but it was clear as day that Pyxis's plan was the only one that had even the slightest chance of working.

"We've talked quite enough." Pyxis turned to face everyone. "Now get to work!"

"Yes, Commander!" The room saluted in unison.

As the soldiers got ready to head out, Kiyomi Azumabito stood and began speaking with Pyxis. Once the two had said all they needed to, Kiyomi turned to Mikasa and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Lady Mikasa, please, if things take a turn for the worse, don't hesitate to make for our ship."

"I'm grateful to you for offering and I appreciate your concern. That being said, I see myself as an Eldian," Mikasa politely declined. "I want to fight for the future of the place I was born and raised. So please, don't worry about me."

Vera recalled Armin briefly mentioning something about Mikasa being a long-lost descendent of the Azumabito clan from Hizuru, but with the onslaught of information she had taken on in the past few days, it had apparently gotten jumbled up with everything else. That was, until she found herself witnessing this conversation between the two women.

"What are you talking about?" Kiyomi seemed genuinely shocked by Mikasa's answer. "You're the entire reason we crossed the sea to come to this place."

Mikasa shook her head. "You came for our resources. So long as we stay open to trade, you don't care who leads this nation. You just need the Rumbling to succeed, right?"

"That's true," Kiyomi confessed. "If the promise of the Rumbling turns out to be an empty one, Hizuru will say our clan acted alone and hang us out to dry. Our investments will amount to nothing and the Azumabitos will succumb to our debts."

"Sounds like one more reason that I shouldn't rely on you." Mikasa deadpanned. She really was ruthless, even when she wasn't necessarily trying to be.

"The Azumabito clan had no choice but to adapt to these turbulent times. But as a result, our prestige has been reduced to the point where we're now derided as a pack of wretched, money-grubbing vixens. Still, we haven't lost our pride as a clan anymore than your mother had when she engraved our crest into your wrist. No matter what becomes of this land, we truly wish to protect you."

Vera's eyes drifted down to the wrapping around Mikasa's wrist—the wrappings that had always been there, hidden under her sleeve.

With nothing more to say, Kiyomi released her grip on Mikasa's shoulders and walked away looking a little more upset than she probably wanted to. Knowing that everyone had witnessed that, Mikasa remained silent as she turned and exited the room first, Vera and the others tagging along behind.

"We're working with Eren even though he killed the Premier?" Connie asked once the group had made it outside to the courtyard.

"Hey, nobody knows if he was behind that or not," Mikasa told him.

Jean grimaced. "Keep your voice down, Mikasa," he warned. "People suspect us of being Jaegerists as it is."

Connie frowned at Mikasa. "I'm still not sure whose side you're on. Care to tell us?"

"Armin, Vera, and I were there when the bomb went off. We almost got killed by the blast," Mikasa grumbled in response. "That answer your question?"

"Enough!" Hange put a stop to the group's arguing much like how Pyxis had put an end to the arguing inside—with a stern tone and an intimidating presence. "Like Commander pyxis said, this is no time to fight amongst ourselves."

"What do you think of his plan?" Jean inquired. "Would you really be comfortable in trusting all our fates to Eren and Zeke?"

Hange shook their head as Onyankopon joined them. "No," they answered honestly. "This doesn't feel right. Zeke and Yelena knew that they would never be free of suspicion so they came up with an insurance plan, and now we're watching it pay out. Our best bet is to assume that they have more contingencies in place. Let's focus on figuring out what Zeke plans to do next; before he makes even bigger fools of us than he has. If it turns out that I'm getting worked up over nothing, that'll be a welcome relief."

"Do you have any leads in mind?" Jean watched as Hange got busy with readying their horse, implicating that they were leaving soon.

"I noticed that Yelena secured work for Marleyan prisoners in a lot of strange places," Hange said. "One good example would be restaurants."

As the group readied their horses as well, determined to follow Hange out to investigate some of these 'odd job placements', Vera felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Hange standing beside her. "You've been awfully quiet," they pointed out. "Care to share what's on your mind?"

Vera let a puff of air past her lips. She knew she couldn't lie to Hange, but she also knew that what currently had her troubled was nowhere near the most important thing she should be worrying about.

"I'm worried about him too." It was as if Hange could read Vera's mind, and for that, she was grateful; it saved her the trouble of having to actually say what she was thinking. "If Eren really is after Zeke, then Levi is the only thing standing between their happy family reunion."

Vera gritted her teeth and pulled hard on the saddle's girth to tighten it. "I know he can take care of himself but I hate not knowing where he is." She caught the quirk in Hange's eyebrow. "And this isn't me slyly trying to glean information as to his location. It's just that ... if he needs me, I can't get to him."

Hange gave Vera a hardy clap on the back. "If need be, I have no doubt in my mind that the two of you could find each other blindfolded in the middle of a maze. Love has a sickly, disturbing way of beating the odds."

Vera chuckled. "Forgive my assumption, but you sound jilted, Commander."

Hange let out a loud laugh; one that Vera hadn't heard in a long time. "Nonsense. I'm just irked that after my many years of hard work, it ended up being some young, blonde recruit who finally pulled the stick out of his ass."

Vera smiled wide. "I think you loosened the stick, Commander."

Hange nodded in agreement. "I most certainly did, Kline." They gave Vera's horse a light pat. "Now mount up, soldier. We've got work to do."

Before long, Vera's hair was whipping through the wind as she, Hange, and the others rode off in the direction of one of the many restaurants that employed Marleyan prisoners. Upon their arrival, they requested to speak to Niccolo, who was working as a chef at the establishment. The restaurant was one of the biggest, fanciest ones Vera had ever stepped foot in and she immediately felt out of place upon stepping past the threshold.

When Niccolo finally emerged from the kitchen, his expression was one of confusion. "Hello there," he greeted. "This urgent? Sorry but I'm preparing a main course for some very important guests right now."

"That's fine," Hange assured him. "If you're in the middle of something, you can get back to it. But we'd like to have a quick word with you once you finish up."

"You wanna talk?" Niccolo chewed his bottom lip. "What is this about?"

Hange seemed unsure of how to phrase their next sentence. "We wondered if you might ... have some concerns ..."

"The Scouts are investigating our detainment." Onyankopon took over for Hange. "We were hoping you'd be able to help us."

Niccolo's face paled with understanding. "Yeah, no problem." He then led the group into a separate, empty room. "I'll ask you to wait in here until I can finish."

"Wow." Hange gawked at the pristine dining room filled with tables covered in white tablecloths and cabinets stocked with expensive bottles of wine. "This room is pretty fancy."

"I bet it's usually reserved for MPs," Connie huffed as he passed through the doorway.

"Hey!" Jean grabbed one of the bottles of wine. "I've heard a whole lot of talk about this wine. It's so nice that it's only served to high-ranking members of the military."

Intrigued, Connie walked over to get a look. "Oh, yeah? Well, aren't we high-ranking members of the Scouts?"

"Sure are." Jean instantly caught on to Connie's meaning. "I'd say we've earned a quick sip of liquid luxury. Let's have a little."

"Don't touch that!" The sudden outburst came from Niccolo as he snatched the bottle out of Jean's hand.

Everyone watched as Niccolo folded his body over the bottle, protecting it like it was his child.

"Whoa, calm down, man," Jean told him. "We were just screwing around, so relax. No need to make a big thing of it."

Drawing in a deep breath, Niccolo seemed to calm himself slightly. "A wine of this quality would be wasted on Eldians, understand?"

"What?" Connie asked.

"What's with you? I can't believe you're still spouting that crap. Regardless of what you've been told, your wine doesn't care what race we are!" Jean grabbed Niccolo hard by the collar of his white chef's jacket.

Niccolo grimaced. "Get your hands off of me, Eldian. I've been civil to you, but that doesn't make us friends." He had suddenly done a one-eighty from the man who had supposedly fallen in love with Sasha, an Eldian.

"It sounds to me like you've forgotten your place here." Jean tightened his grip on Niccolo. "On this island, you're just-"

"-just a filthy POW?" Niccolo finished the insult before prying Jean's hand off of himself. "Guess that makes us even, you Eldian devil." Without another word, Niccolo walked out of the room, a triumphant smirk on his face as he closed the door behind himself.

"What is that guy's problem?" Connie watched the closed door, almost as if he expected Niccolo to pop back in at any second and admit that the whole thing had been a joke.

Jean grunted. "Hell if I know. Whatever."

"You two idiots don't need to be drinking on the job anyway." Vera pulled out a chair from one of the tables and sat down.

Jean squinted at Vera, almost as if he was trying to read her like a book. "So what, you think what he did was okay?"

"I didn't say that." Vera was secretly thankful for Jean's combative nature, as it was currently keeping her distracted from thinking about Levi. "But maybe just cut him a little bit of slack, you know? He's probably pretty on edge right now with everything going on and we did just show up at his work to question him."

"If he's innocent, there shouldn't be any reason for him to be on edge."

Vera shrugged. "Authority just freaks some people out."

Jean's mouth split into a wide smile. "Hey, yeah, I guess I am pretty intimidating, aren't I?"

"Totally not what she meant." Connie smacked Jean in the back of the head.

"Ow!" Jean hissed. "You better watch yourself, baldie, or else I'm gonna-"

Before Jean could finish his threat, a commotion from down the hall interrupted him. Everyone fell silent at once, heads turning toward the door, waiting to see if something else would happen. When a series of shouts echoed through the building, Vera stood to her feet, her mind already set on investigating the noise.

With Armin on her heels, Vera exited the room and headed toward the only set of open doors along the hallway. When she stepped into the doorway, her jaw dropped at the sight before her. With a knife in one hand, Niccolo was standing in the middle of the dining room, an unconscious, bleeding Falco under his free arm and a scared Gabi on the floor at his feet. Across the room, a man in a brown suit who Vera recognized as Sasha's father stared at Niccolo and behind him stood the rest of Sasha's family.

"What's going on in here?" Armin managed to find his voice before Vera. "Everybody, hurry over!" he called to the others.

Within seconds, everyone else had rushed in to see the cause of the commotion. "That's the kid who shot Sasha!" Jean recognized Gabi immediately. "I heard she was on the run but I'm surprised you recognized her," he said to Niccolo. "Wait, what are you planning to do here?"

"Stay away from me, you hear?!" Niccolo adjusted Falco in his grasp and held the knife to his face. "I'm just going to avenge Sasha. That's all I want!"

"Stop!" Gabi begged. "Leave Falco out of this, please!"

"What, is this brat someone special to you?" Niccolo spat. "Is that why he tried to protect you earlier? You care about him, huh? Well, I used to care about someone too! A dirt-blooded Eldian! A descendent of devils! A woman who enjoyed the food I cooked more than anyone I'd ever met before! She saved me from this shitty-ass, pointless war. She showed me that the person I'm meant to be is a man who brings people happiness through his cooking. Her name is Sasha Braus. She was amazing and you stole her from me!"

Gabi rose as high as she could while remaining on her knees. "I've lost people too! Your Sasha Braus shot two friends of mine! She gunned them both down as they were protecting their home! That's why I took revenge on her! She's the one who started it!"

"Shut the hell up! Who cares how it started?!" Niccolo inched the blade closer to Falco.

"Wake up! Open your eyes!" Gabi pleaded. "You're supposed to be a Marleyan soldier. That she-devil must have bewitched you somehow. Fight! Don't let the devils win!"

Finally, Sasha's father stepped forward. "All right, Niccolo. Give me that knife." His voice was deep and calm, a stark contrast to the high emotions radiating from Niccolo and Gabi. "Please."

Drawing the blade away from Falco, Niccolo handed the blade over to Mr. Braus. Fear etched onto her face, Gabi watched as Sasha's father approached her. Lifting the weapon, Mr. Braus studied the sharp blade intently. Behind him, his other children huddled together, afraid of what they might have to watch their father do. His wife simply looked resigned, as if she had no intention of stopping her husband from grieving in whichever way he saw fit.

"Listen, Mr. Braus, this isn't right." Hange attempted to put a stop to things before they could get any more out of hand. "Please drop the knife. Or maybe just set it down."

Without letting go of the knife, Mr. Braus sighed. "I raised Sasha to be self-sufficient. I taught her how to use a bow when she was young, and before long she got good enough to hunt for food in our forest. It was our way of life and we didn't ever want to give it up. But after Maria fell, I knew we'd have to change with the times or die with the old ways, so I sent Sasha to join civilization.

"Then, the world just kept getting bigger. Sasha left our forest and our island behind to fight some distant enemy; to shoot folks and get shot. Thing is, she left our forest, but turns out she just traded it for a bigger one, where the same rule of kill or be killed still applied." Mr. Braus finally handed the knife to his wife, who set it to the side. "I recon Sasha died 'cause she wandered in that forest too long. We gotta get the children out of that forest, at the very least, or else there's nothing gonna stop this from happening again and again. The way I see it, when it comes to shouldering the sins and hatreds of the past, that burden should fall to adults like you and me."

He looked directly at Niccolo, eyes wide with desperation. "Please, Niccolo, we need you to let them go now," Mrs. Braus requested.

Clearly struggling with the decision, Niccolo finally set Falco down on the floor, the bleeding from the wound on his head seeming to have slowed now.

"Good." Mr. Braus and his wife kneeled down beside Falco while Connie and Jean grabbed hold of Niccolo. "Okay, slow and steady does it, Lisa."

"Right." Mrs. Braus began to treat Falco's wounds.

Following suit, Mikasa went to Gabi's aid. "Mia, you're okay, aren't you?" Mr. Braus looked over at Gabi, who had apparently given him a fake name.

Gabi's wide brown eyes darted around the room, completely caught off guard by the kindness she and Falco were being shown. "I don't understand," she whispered to herself. "Do you really not hate me?"

In that moment, a blonde girl who had been cowering with her other siblings moments ago snatched the knife from the tabletop and darted toward Gabi. Before the blade could pierce Gabi's head, however, Vera lunged out and grabbed the blonde girl's arm.

"Kaya-" Gabi breathed out.

As Mr. and Mrs. Braus pulled the girl away, she began to scream at Gabi. "You killed my sister! How dare you say my name!" She fought against her parents as they wrestled the knife out of her hand. "I thought you were my friend!"

"I think we should go." Armin helped Gabi stand. With the sound of Kaya sobbing in the background, he and Mikasa led Gabi back to the other dining room they had been waiting in previously.

"The main dish must have gone cold by now." Niccolo winced at the sound of Sasha's family's cries. "Hange, you should rinse that kid's mouth out with water. Some of the wine got into it."

Hange, who was tending to Falco with Onyankopon's help, perked at that.

"Although, it's probably too late." Niccolo's eyes darkened with regret.

Hange gasped. "Why do you say that? What's in the wine?"

"I think it's ... Zeke's spinal fluid."

Grabbing Niccolo by the collar once more, Jean threw him against the wall. "What did you just say?! Why the hell would Zeke Jaeger's spinal fluid be in the wine?"

"I don't actually have proof, but still ... they packed the first survey fleet to the brim with it," Niccolo explained while Hange and Connie rinsed out Falco's mouth with water. "There's no way they needed that much alcohol for a scouting mission."

"Again." Hange motioned for Connie to pour more water into the unconscious boy's mouth.

Niccolo gulped. "And just as I was starting to settle into my new job here as a chef, I received instructions. In short, I was ordered to start serving that Marleyan wine to higher-ranking military officers."

"Who ordered it?" Jean slammed him against the wall again.

Niccolo paused for a moment, trying to decide if he should answer honestly or not. Eventually, he caved. "It was Yelena," he confessed. "As far as I know, she's the only one who was in on it. I can't speak for the other volunteers."

Hange turned to look at Onyankopon. "No, I didn't know about any of this!" Onyankopon denied instantly. "I give you my word."

"This doesn't make sense though." Connie's face contorted as he concentrated. "If Zeke's spinal fluid is ingested by an Eldian, they're supposed to freeze up."

Hange shook their head. "That's only what we were told by Zeke. None of us have ever seen how it happens in person, and there was no proof, but we bought it. It seems like such a small lie, but it's had an enormous effect. We thought Zeke's spinal fluid caused paralysis so when the wine caused no symptoms, we assumed it was safe."

"Yeah, but wait, Niccolo." Jean glared at their new informant once more. "You don't actually know that it's dosed, right?"

"No, not for a fact," Niccolo responded quietly. "That said, I do know that, in the past, Zeke's spinal fluid has been used in similar ways to tremendous effect. Ten years ago, Marley conquered a hostile nation's capital overnight. This was made possible by the sudden appearance of hundreds of Titans in the city. She must plan to use the same trick here. Why else would she order me to make sure your military's top officers drank that suspicious wine? No other explanation makes sense."

"If that's true, then when you snatched that bottle from me earlier, you were trying to protect us," Jean reasoned.

"No. I have no idea what I'm doing. I came here to help save the world from the devils on this island. Now that I've told you all of this, I'm sure that my days must be numbered." Niccolo finally raised his head to look at the Braus family across the room. "Sorry, Mr. Braus. I can't be as forgiving as you are, but I do want to atone in some small way. I was about to murder a child. How screwed up can I be?"

Mr. Braus closed his eyes and hung his head. "Oh, Niccolo."

Sensing that the damage in that room had mostly been done by then, Vera excused herself to check on the others in the dining room down the hall. When she arrived, Gabi was sitting in a chair, gaze averted and wounds mostly cleaned up and cared for by Armin and Mikasa.

When Vera's footfalls gave away her presence, Gabi looked up, her brown eyes glued to Vera's blue ones. "Why did you save me?" The words tumbled from her lips like she had been waiting to ask that question for a while.

Vera thought about it as she approached the girl. "I don't know," she finally answered, although she was sure it was unsatisfactory. "My body just acted. I didn't really think about it."

"I'm the one who killed your comrades on that airship," Gabi reminded them as if they had somehow been able to forget. The hand she had resting on the table clenched into a fist. "I'm the one who crushed that guard's skull with a brick. Falco didn't do anything. So kill me, not him, okay?"

"We won't kill you," Armin told her.

Gabi seemed truly perplexed. "Why not? I know you must want to."

"Why would I want that?" Armin questioned, his forehead tensing at the very thought of it. "Always with the killing. It's like it's all you ever think about. Just like someone else I know."

Just then, as if he had been summoned by Armin's words alone, Eren marched into the room. Panicked voices down the hall followed soon after and Vera knew that Eren hadn't come alone. There was no doubt in her mind that they were here to pry the location of Zeke from them, no matter what it took.

Holding up his hand to reveal the cut on his palm, Eren used the implied threat of transforming at the drop of a hat to force Vera, Armin, and Mikasa into sitting at the table along with Gabi, right where he wanted them.

Hange's shouts travelled down the hall, not quite clear enough to discern what they were saying but more than loud enough to figure out that trouble was brewing quickly.

Seconds later, there were three knocks at the door. "We're gonna go on ahead," Floch's voice was muffled. Of course, Eren brought his biggest fan to this little meetup.

"Good," Eren responded.

"That was Floch!" Armin recognized his voice as well. "So you brought him here with you then?"

"Yeah." Eren motioned for everyone to place their hands on the tabletop, palms down. Without hesitation, Vera and the others obeyed. When Eren followed his own order as well, he promptly ignored the bright red blood seeping into the tablecloth from his self-inflicted wound.

Then, with a rough sigh, he looked across the table at the people he used to call friends. Within his cold gaze, Vera was no longer able to identify that spark of child-like determination that proved he was working toward the good of humanity. Now all she saw was the raw desire for destruction.

His gaze flickered to Gabi for a moment, taking in the terror on her face, before he spoke again. "I wanted to talk with you three."

7 notes · View notes

andnowanowl · 3 months

Text

Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

NADER AL-MASRI

Semi-professional runner, 34

Born in Beit Hanoun, Gaza

Interviewed in Gaza City, Gaza

Nader Al-Masri is the only Palestinian man we interview who doesn't smoke-the absence of a cigarette in his hand is striking to us. Dressed in a faded plaid shirt, he sips a fruit cocktail as he answers our questions. Everything about Nader is neat and trim, from his chiseled face to his clipped answers during the interview. His stern, focused manner perhaps comes from the force of will it takes for him to pursue running in Gaza, a place where it's difficult to earn recognition for following a dream, much less get paid for it. With an unemployment rate approaching 40 percent, most Gazans are focused on getting by, but Nader has scraped together a way to support his family of seven while keeping up a demanding training schedule and traveling to competitions.

We first interview Nader during our trip to Gaza in the spring of 2013. He explains to us why, despite the lack of support, Gaza's legendarily hot summers, difficulties traveling, and even Israeli air strikes, he has kept running.

I WAS ALWAYS FASTER THAN THE OTHER BOYS

I grew up in Gaza, in Beit Hanoun. I was always faster than the other boys. In Gaza when I was a child, the only sport kids played seriously was soccer. So when I was very young, running meant running back and forth while chasing a ball. Really, though, I didn't care about the ball-I just enjoyed running. One day when I was fourteen, my teacher Saoud Hamed-he taught Arabic and sports-announced that we'd be having a foot race. That wasn't something we'd ever done before in school. I prepared for it by running whenever I could for a few days, and then I won the race easily. My teacher told me I had a special talent, and offered to help me train.

From that first race, I wanted to be a runner, to be the fastest there is, but my family didn't support me. My dad thought there were better things for me to do, such as help out with his business as a grocer. So I had to train secretly while I was a teenager. Then one day, I was away from home for a long time, running, and when I came back, my father asked me what I had been doing. I said, "I was training to run, and running is the thing I want to do with my life. That's all there is to it." Later, my uncle visited our house and was able to convince my dad to let me train.

Training for me took a lot of extra effort. There weren't any great places to run in Beit Hanoun or Gaza City. I didn't have good shoes. And I had to work long hours at my family's produce market a lot of the time. It was routine for me to leave the house with my father at two in the morning for work. I'd go to markets in Gaza City to pick up shipments of produce, and he'd go into Israel through Erez to buy produce there. Then my brothers and I would be in charge of the market, which was right next to our home, until my father returned from Israel. So there were many days when I didn't have a chance to start running until the afternoon, when it could be hot, and when I was already tired from a long day.

During this whole time, my teacher Saoud was very supportive of me. He helped me train, and he also worked to get the attention of the Palestinian national running team, which was based in the West Bank. I got stronger and stronger as a runner, and then I joined the national team in 1999, at nineteen years old. I remember telling my family that I was on the national team and that I was going to travel to Ireland for a race. They didn't believe me. They asked me, "What are you talking about?" They went and asked Saoud, and he said, "Yeah, your son made the team and we're leaving in a few days." My family was shocked that this was something I could actually do with my life.

So in 1999 I left Gaza for the first time through the Rafah border into Egypt. Saoud was with me. I remember him saying, "You are about to have an amazing experience, Nader." We flew to Ireland out of Cairo. When I got on a plane for the first time, I was a bit worried, but I was calm as soon as the plane took off.

In Ireland, I saw a very different life than the one I knew in Gaza. People there had so much, there were times I felt like what we had back in Gaza couldn't even be called "life." But one of my best memories from Ireland was just meeting the other runners on the Palestine national team, getting a chance to talk about shared experiences. I'd never met them before, since I'd never had the chance to travel to the West Bank, and there weren't any other members of the team from Gaza. The coach of the national team was Majed Abu Maraheel. He was the first runner to represent Palestine internationally when he ran in the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. The national team had just been formed the year before in 1995, just after the Palestinian Authority first came into power. It was great to feel like there were others like me, other Palestinians who had devoted themselves to running.

After I finished the championship, I insisted on going back to Gaza and training there, so that I could represent Palestine again and again in other countries. I didn't want to be a Palestinian runner living somewhere other than my home, and I wanted to stay in Gaza, where people were just starting to notice me and realize that running has a purpose.

I'VE ONLY BEEN TO THE WEST BANK ONCE

In international competitions, I'm a runner, and I throw shot put. As a runner, I participate in the 5,000-meter race. My proudest moment as a runner so far was at the Asian Games in Doha, Qatar, in 2006, when I got eighth place in the 5,000-meter race. All together, I've been in forty international competitions, including the Beijing Olympics in 2008. I was just under the qualifying time to run in Beijing, but I still got a chance to represent my country on the national stage.

In the past thirteen years since I joined the national team, I've been to twenty-five countries, but I've only been to the West Bank once. That was in 2008, when I had to cross to Jordan. It wasn't easy. It took seven months for me to get the permit to travel through Jordan. It was because of the media, because I got many interviews with Israeli TV channels and newspapers. At the end of the day, the Israeli government gave me the permit.

I also ran the UNRWA Marathon in 2011 and 2012, and I received first place both times. Then in 2013, it was canceled.³ In 2013 and 2014, Gazan runners were also banned from going to Bethlehem to participatein the new marathon there.⁴ Israel would not grant us a permit to go. In 2013, I applied four times. They didn't give reasons. The Bethlehem Marathon meant a lot to me, because I wanted to run in Palestine against other top Palestinian runners.

I've never been to Bethlehem or Jerusalem. It would have been my first time. Even if I get a permit to the West Bank, I won't get a permit to Jerusalem this year because of my age. The Israelis only give permits to men older than thirty-five to travel to Jerusalem, because they see young men from Gaza as too dangerous to even consider allowing in the city.

IT GIVES ME THE SENSE OF BEING FREE

I'm married with five kids—four girls and one boy. I was married to my wife Sawsan in 2007, and I supported my family for a time as a security officer with the Palestinian Authority. But after Hamas took over shortly after I got married, they drove the PA out of Gaza and I was left without any job. Still, I continue to be paid by the PA, which is true of many Gazans who had worked for the Palestinian Authority. I'm paid around $500 per month.⁵ That helps to feed my family, and I also need the money for vitamins and supplements, when I can afford them.

I train alone because no one can compete with me. There is no sense in competing with people slower than me. I have to compete with people who are like me, and that doesn't exist in Gaza yet. I usually train at a playground near my house. It's 400 meters, like a normal track, but it's a sand track, so the sand slows me down. It takes more time. It also hurts my legs, so I don't train there all the time. Sometimes I train on the beach, sometimes on the sidewalk. I wake up at six a.m. and train for two hours in the morning, and then I go back home, have lunch, and take a nap. Then I train again at six p.m. I have a program. I train all summer, even when it gets extremely hot.⁶ It's harder, but I never stop, because when I stop I feel like my legs need to move. I run even during Ramadan, after I break the fast. I usually start at six a.m., but during Ramadan I start training after we eat at seven or eight p.m.⁷

I regularly go to Europe and other countries to participate in competitions. If you visit my home, you can see the many medals and prizes I've received over the past thirteen years. Sometimes, host organizations that invite me to races pay for my travel. But I still have to figure out how to get to Cairo, which can be impossible when the borders are closed.

Soccer players are sponsored and supported by the government and the Palestinian Authority more than runners. I feel isolated because I am not supported and I don't have facilities. Sometimes I stay for six months or so outside Gaza to train, since I don't have the facilities to help improve

my running here. I have the proper shoes, but I can't run with them in Gaza. They have spikes, and I can't run with them on the sand, so I only use them when I travel. But then when I wear them, they give me problems because I'm not used to them. I can run 5,000 meters in fourteen minutes, but the international qualifying standard for a number of top-level competitions is just over thirteen minutes. So I'm training so I canparticipate in international competitions and make money. I can't make money until I reach this goal. But becoming better with the facilities I have available here in Gaza is difficult. My running doesn't make money. I've thought about leaving Gaza to have more support as a runner. I have a wife and kids who I would have to leave behind, but I would be paid, so they would have a better life and I would be achieving my dream.

I go running while people are sleeping, and I do all these things partly because I want to get first place when I run and show that Palestinians have something to be proud of. I'm proud to be representing Palestine, no matter how hard it is for me to keep training. When I go to represent Palestine in championships, I try to focus on the idea that Palestinians are a peaceful people. And I draw attention to the fact that we can't move around easily because we don't have an airport and we have to go through Egypt to travel, and not even that is reliable. Now the Rafah crossing into Egypt is closed.

Unfortunately, not many Gazans know about what I've done as a runner. Usually, when you say you are on the official team of your country, it means something, but here there isn't much appreciation of that sort of achievement. There was a movie I saw about a runner who died, and as the ambulance pulled away, people were clapping like he was something great. But in Gaza, if I died while I was in the middle of a training run, probably nobody on the street would notice.

I've thought of quitting many times because of the lack of support, but running is still the thing I want to do at the end of the day. It takes all of my time, but it's what I want to.

I also keep running because it basically means freedom to me. It's not like soccer, where I have to play with eleven others. I run on my own. I go wherever I want, do whatever I want, and it gives me the sense of being free. The second I start running, I feel free to fly and go wherever I want.

When I was young, before I had a family, I'd even run when there was an Israeli invasion or bombing in Gaza City. Today, I stay with my family when anything like that happens. But whenever I feel stressed out by everything that's happening here, I can still leave the city and go running in the country, where there's nobody else in sight, and it gives me the feeling of being free.

---

Footnotes

¹ Beit Hanoun is a city northeast of Gaza City with over 30,000 residents. The city is on the northeast border of Gaza and close to the Erez crossing into Israel.

² The Erez crossing is the major border crossing between Israel and the Gaza Strip. Movement across the border was severely restricted starting in 2007.

³ The UNRWA Marathon is an annual marathon that was started in 2011 and brings people from around the world to Gaza. In 2013, it was canceled because Hamas didn't allow women to participate.

⁴ The 2013 Bethlehem Marathon was the first marathon ever organized in the West Bank. The Israeli government denied passage of twenty-six Gazan applicants into the West Bank to participate in the race on the grounds that the applications didn't meet criteria for extreme humanitarian need, such as medical urgency, which are currently the only criteria for permitting Gazans to travel into the West Bank.

⁵ The Palestinian Authority governed Gaza from 1995 until 2007, when the political party Hamas took full control of Gazan governance. Though employees of the Palestinian Authority in Gaza were replaced by Hamas loyalists, the Palestinian Authority continued to pay former government employees in hopes of an eventual return to power in Gaza.

⁶ Average temperatures in Gaza City in July and August are over 90 degrees Fahrenheit.

⁷ For the month of Ramadan, observant Muslims refrain from eating between sunrise and sundown.

#palestine speaks #palestinian voices #book exerpt #part 16 of 16

0 notes

thryothorus · 6 months

Text

Processing grief for a dead pet family member

We found you in your tank, your body half in your moist hide as though you had fallen asleep on your way in, too tired from the medications and treatments we'd used to try to fix the mystery thing that was making fluids seep into your coelom. When I lifted you and your rock, intent on trying to get you to take your morning dose of liver supplement and prophylactic antibiotic, I felt a sucker punch.

You were too stiff to be merely asleep.

You did not respond and, as cliché as the term is, my heart sank. I felt like you were dead, but I couldn't bring myself to do that verification. Was that leg twitch a ghost of your nervous system? Was the shifting at your throat a trick of the light?

We took you to the vet, the place of your torment and prior salvation. We'd medically boarded you there for a month when you kept tearing your stitches out a couple years ago. You survived that.

They were all apology and awkward conciliation as I asked them through tears to verify that you were gone. I needed somebody not blinded by love to be the arbiter.

They found a faint heartbeat, which they attributed as a lizard thing. You're just hearty like that. Not hearty enough to be okay, but for your body to cling to life. For us to have to choose to end it for you. The vet said that they could care for you, but it wouldn't matter. You were gone, the parts of you that were sweet and sassy and wonderful were not there and would never come back.

They let us say goodbye, but we couldn't possibly be ready with the words we needed to say. Will I ever be able to share the words I needed to say then? We thanked you for being in our lives. We tried our best to say a good goodbye. Then we let them take you so they could end your suffering by stopping your heart.

They asked what we wanted to do with you. I wanted answers, but I couldn't bear for them to cut into your body anymore. Cognitively, I knew you wouldn't feel it, but I couldn't let them do anything else to your body. You'd been through enough, had earned the quiet, long sleep.

They gave you to us in a box, along with a clay imprint of your feet and tail. I love them for that, but hate them for the fact that despite their interventions last week, despite giving you the prescribed medications, our efforts did not work.

Two hours later, after dealing with taking a day off work, we buried you in the front yard. Initially, I wanted to put you under the rose bush that bore flowers of the same yellow color as your body, but it seemed too open, too unsafe. We found a hollow between the hydrangeas that you might have liked as a hiding-place if you were allowed to dart around outside (too cold, too unsafe during life).

P wrote you a letter, which he read aloud and tucked into your box. We lifted you to put moss beneath your body- a fitting bed for you since you seemed to love sleeping on it during life. I told your story, and we covered your box with dirt.

It's been two days and the pain is only just scabbing over. The grief still lies within our habits.

This morning, I found myself checking your tank for you, only to find it like a spiritless body. When I catch movement in the glass, I look over. They're only reflections- you're not climbing from one platform to another, or begging for food at the front of the tank.

I don't know how long it will take for these habits to subside, and for thoughts of you to not take prime residence in my mind. Today was better than yesterday, and tomorrow may be better.

Part of me wants to cling to this grief, because to be done with mourning feels like I am accepting the fact that I will begin to forget the details that gave you life. Perhaps the guilt I feel for not being able to save you is also why I cling to this pain- I deserve it in a way because I am alive and you are not.

Part of me wants to forget because the pain still occasionally makes it hard to breathe.

I love you and miss you.

#tw: pet death #tw grief #loss #emotional

1 note · View note

junglekarmapippa · 1 year

Text

Robbie on Robbie #5: "You and me are not like the others"

From: "Not like the others" from "Take the crown"

Rj was running through the forest at his usual alone speed. When he ran with the others, he slowed down so they could keep up, but when he was alone, he loved to sprint through the woods as fast as his legs could carry him.

He was jumping over roots and taking sharp turns, letting out the occasional "Hiya!" for power as he went.

He arrived at the clearing where his own training gear was, which he had kept secret from his students all along, and bent over to catch his breath.

He heard rapid footsteps approaching him from behind. He heard the person who was following him stop behind him, gasping for breath.

"You run a lot faster than you used to," Dom said.

"It's called training," RJ replied, turning to his friend. "You should try it some time."

"Can I train here?" Dom asked, looking around the clearing.

"I'm afraid this is a Master training space," RJ said. Dom turned to him with his lips pursed, and RJ shrugged. "Sorry, nothing I can do."

"I do not want to become a Master," Dom said, leaning against a tree. "It doesn't matter how much you insist, I will not be getting the tattoo any time soon."

RJ raised his hands in surrender. "It's your call."

Dom leaned against the tree while RJ walked up to a hanging rope and started climbing it using only his arms.

"You have gotten stronger too," Dom commented.

RJ let go of the rope with one hand to look at Dom, holding his weight with just his other hand. "Another perk of being a Master."

"Show off," Dom dismissed.

RJ went back to climbing and reached the top. He sat on the platform, looking down at Dom, who looked pensive.

"Why don't you want to be a Master?" He asked him.

Dom looked up. "I don't know. It just doesn't fit my style."

"Your style as in your animal spirit or your style as in your personality?" RJ asked.

"Both?´Neither? I don't know." Dom took a few seconds, walking towards a weightlifting contraption. "Masters are people you look up to," He started as he loaded weight on the machine. "why would anybody look up to me?"

RJ nodded and liked his lips, even though Dom couldn't see him. He started climbing back down. "I can understand that," he said as he worked his way down the rope.

"You can?"

"Yes. Remember where I was when you met me? I had just split with my father, not my best moment, physically or mentally."

"I remember," Dom said, continuing his weightlifting. I wasn't in a much better place."

It was RJ's turn to sit on the ground and watch Dom work out. "We helped each other out of our respective holes," He said.

"We did."

"I always thought we'd be joined at the hip forever," RJ said. "That either we'd both become Masters or neither of us would."

"And yet, here we are." Dom put the weights down one last time and moved to sit across from RJ.

"Here we are."

"Why did you become a Master?" Dom asked.

"You know me, I like the path of least resistance," he said. "After Mao dispatched you, becoming a Master just became the natural progression to all the training." He shrugged. "Perhaps, if you had stayed, we wouldn't be here."

They stayed silent, looking at each other.

"I tried to stay in touch," Dom said softly. "As much as I could."

"Hey," RJ said, moving to sit closer to Dom. "I'm not blaming you. Our oaths parted, and we walked them. We got separated. It's natural."

"Yeah. Still sucks, though."

"Well, we can rekindle our friendship. I need a training partner that is on my level, for starters."

"Your level's miles above my level now, RJ."

"Nothing a little intensive training can't fix," RJ dismissed. "We could have been Theo and Casey. Tasked to defeat Dai Shi ourselves."

"Now we have to stand aside and watch them do it."

"We can't do that," RJ said. "They'll get skewered. I may be a Master, but I'm not as good as Mao thought I'd be."

"Hey, Casey's doing wonderfully well."

"I feel I have nothing to teach Theo and Lily."

"Don't say that. You have a lot of knowledge to share," Dom said. "And wisdom. You were always very wise. You still are."

RJ laid back, looking up at the canopy. "We can train here together, just the two of us. Any knowledge or wisdom I can share with Casey, Theo, and Lily won't matter if they're dead." Dom lay down next to him. "We have to become their protectors."

"Whatever you consider is necessary, Wolf Master," Dom said.

"Dom, you and me," RJ started in a somber tone. "You and me are not like the others. They're indispensable. We are not."

"Are you saying we may have to lie our lives down for them?"

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I'm not dying before you die," Dom said, looking at RJ.

"And I'm not dying before you die," RJ replied, turning to look at him.

"Then it's settled, then," Dom said, sitting up. "Neither one of us dies."

"Ride or die," RJ said, offering his fist.

"Ride or die," Dom replied, knocking fists. He pointed to his surroundings. "Where do I start?"

"Climbing," RJ instructed. "Let me see where you are, so I can plan where you're going."

#fanfic #fanfiction #power rangers jungle fury #Robbie Williams #Power Rangers

1 note · View note

the-actual-last-quincy · 2 years

Note

Psst, Shh, Dream

from here || accepting || @kanac

My Character Must Confess in 3s

Psst: Three things that they’ve always wanted to tell your character.

" I'm sorry about how my relationship with Uryuu, after your passing, ended up. I think you hoped for us to be closer than we ended up. I regret that, and suppose I have my fair share of blame in that. I think if you looked at Uryuu and I know, you'd see a son you could be proud of, but not necessarily the father you wished for him. Just know that I tried to the best of my ability, and that I hoped for him to have a different childhood to the one I experienced. It's one of the places in my life where I feel your absence most deeply, and never really shake the sense that I'd have done better with you to balance out my...rougher edges"

"Despite what happened with Masaki, and the issues my breaking off that engagement caused, that you were never a second or lesser choice. I've wondered sometimes, between the expectations of my mother and the manner in which we got together, if you'd ever thought that. If I could tell you anything else, I've often thought about reassuring you of that one thing. I committed to you not through expectation or pressure from those around me, but because I wished to, no more no less. You were never a consolation, and I always hoped you understood that"

" Even though you're gone and it's not quite the same, I still keep to our old routines. It was a habit at first, but as the years go by I find that I can't stop. It almost makes me feel safe, and like going through the motions of things we used to do together keeps a part of you with me. It keeps you in my thoughts, although even without this kind of absurd ritual, I doubt you'd ever stray far from them"

Shh: Three things they wouldn’t want their parents to know.

"I regret attempting to bridge the gap between myself and them using Uryuu. I feel, in hindsight, it would have been better to keep my distance once he was born and not allow them the chance to influence the next generation in the way my father did. It was misguided of me. I think things would have been simpler for all of us without their input"

"In hindsight, I feel my marriage to Masaki would have been a mistake and that perhaps the incident with that hollow was the best thing for all of us. I doubt we'd have made each other happy, and there's more to a marriage than suitable blood. I wish my mother had understood that"

"That, despite my dislike of that world, that I'm still in contact with Kisuke Urahara and have kept up my training. I may not have been fit to protect the future of the quincy, and I'll never quite forgive my father for ensuring I'm forever tied to a world I wished to turn my back on, but I can see the benefits to keeping those links for now. I can only imagine the field day my father would have with this information"

Dream: Three wishes they have.

"for Uryuu to truly see the error of in involving himself with both the shinigami and quincy, and instead used what talent he has to do something better. It's not like he lacks the potential, it is just a disappointment to me how he chooses to use it"

"To build bridges, particularly with my son and make up for some of the time we've lost during his teenage years. I feel, if we had the chance to talk, if his was willing to asorb things from my perspective, that perhaps some of the issues we've had would lessen and he might finally understand my desire to protect him"

"To live a quieter life. To put the nonsense that inevitably comes from involving oneself with the dead to one side and focus on the things that matter to me. If I could, I would discharge the responsibilities placed on me by my father, focus on my patients, what little of my family I have less and my own happiness"

#tsp activity #ask response #kanac #((sorry this has taken so long))#((I'm not sure if one and two of dreams are essentially the same thing #but they felt different enough for me to use them as two different points))

1 note · View note

todorokibois · 2 years

Text

Oxymoron - Soft Yandere!Sukuna X Reader

Soft Yandere AU

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Horror

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna X Reader

Words: 2,070

Warnings: Violence, Possessive Thoughts, Trauma and Mention of Past Abuse, Not Edited

A/n: Just an idea I had the other night cause I'm obsessed with the 'I hate everybody but you' trope. Sukuna is definitely not in character, I'm just soft for making him soft. I think it's been like a year since I've updated on this blog, so hopefully this isn't too bad. I hope you like it, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Summary: We all have that one person we'd do anything for...

Or... the one in which Sukuna saves you.

Note: The characters are all aged up for this fic, so now they will be in university.

You really don’t know when his fascination with you started.

Perhaps it was because you and Yuuji were best friends, using you as a way to taunt the boy within that mind of his. Vivid images of what Sukuna would do to you if given the chance haunt Yuuji every time he closes his eyes, so much so that he looses sleep over it.

Oddly enough, Sukuna has never acted on those little fantasies of his. Yet.

Perhaps, though, it’s because you remind him of someone. Someone powerful that he once knew in a past life. Yes, even more powerful than the almighty Gojo Satoru, but for some reason unbeknownst to Sukuna, you kept that power hidden away. Either that, or you had no idea what you were capable of.

What were your limits? Did you even have any? Did you know?

Sukuna wanted to find out. No, he needed to.

Which is why, after residing inside of Yuuji for months simply observing you and seeing how far he could push the boy, he finally spoke to you for the first time.

“Oi, brat,” a mouth had formed on the side of Yuuji’s cheek, interrupting your once peaceful conversation.

Both Sukuna and Yuuji noticed how you flinched slightly at that nickname, worry etched onto Yuuji’s features while nothing but curiosity furrowed Sukuna’s brows.

“Don’t call me that,” you spat back, glaring into the red eye now slightly opened beneath Yuuji’s own.

Never before have you used that tone with the king of curses before. Well, you’ve never really spoken directly to him before now, but he enjoyed it. In that twisted mind of his, he wanted you to do it again.

“But it’s so fitting for a br-“

His words got cut off by Yuuji slapping a hand rather harshly over his cheek.

“Sorry, sometimes he slips out,” he grins sheepishly, giving you a look of concern soon after he lowers his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” your answer is short despite the reassuring smile you shoot his way.

Yuuji leaves it at that. Sukuna remains silent.

The next time Sukuna attempts to speak with you is when Yuuji is passed out, his head resting on your lap as you run your fingers through his hair. In fact, if the curse didn’t know any better, with the way the two of you act towards one another, he’d swear you’re in a relationship of sorts.

He doesn’t understand why, but it bothers him to no end.

“Hey, you,” again, a mouth forms on the side of Yuuji’s cheek.

You sigh, “I have a name, you know.”

A brief pause. “What is it.”

“Like I’d tell you,” you huff, halting your movements momentarily, only for Yuuji to grunt in his sleep, brow only smoothing out once more as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. “Are you asking for the sake of asking, or do you actually want to know?”

Of course, Sukuna already knows your name. He’s tormented Yuuji enough with the thought of him ripping out your insides more times than he can count. Although, the more he attempts torment the boy with these thoughts, the less Sukuna actually enjoys them. It’s been brief, but the odd time while the boy is asleep, Sukuna can access certain memories. For some reason, he always searches for the ones with you in them, and not all of them are happy.

There’s a tightness that grows in his chest while he watches Yuuji comfort you in one of them. The feeling, completely foreign to him, makes him recoil in disgust.

Why does he wish to be the one comforting you instead? Why does he want to be the only one you come to for help?

He huffs out his annoyance, “I want to know.”

He’d rather you tell him yourself. There’s something more… intimate about it that way. Something that makes his skin tingle in excitement.

“Wow, the great and feared Sukuna wants to know my name,” you mock, staring down at him from your nose. An angle he’s not sure if he enjoys looking up at, but with the way you say his name sending a shiver shooting down his spine, he may just make an exception. Again, you pause. “It’s (Y/n).”

The last thing you register from Sukuna is a grunt of acknowledgement before Yuuji is waking up from his nap.

The next time Sukuna makes an appearance surprises you the most. You had been training with Megumi, Yuuji, and some of the upper years while Gojo watched from the sidelines, giving you all pointers here and there. Needless to say, you and Maki were kicking the guys’ asses.

Until they finally started working as a team to separate the two of you.

It was Yuuji and Panda against you, and Megumi and Toge against Maki, until Toge managed to catch Maki with his cursed technique. Frozen in place, Maki could do nothing but watch as the four of them teamed up against you.

Panda ended up misjudging his strength while being backed up by Megumi, sending you flying into the stone steps of the outdoor training area on impact.

Gojo was in front of you in a second, assessing you for injuries as the others crowded around you, only for a voice to draw everyone’s attention to the bottom of the steps in an instant.

“Get away from them,”

For a brief moment, Yuuji lost control over Sukuna.

Immediately, everyone’s guard was up, even as the tattoos slowly but surely began to fade away from Yuuji’s skin. Now, Gojo was in front of him in an instant, leaning intently into Yuuji’s personal space to assess the boy as Panda helped you up and Maki led you to the infirmary.

“Don’t touch them,” despite not being able to take control again, a new mouth formed on the side of Yuuji’s cheek.

Your last glance, spared over your shoulder at your best friend was all Sukuna saw until you were finally out of his reach.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Gojo hums, amusement clear in his voice.

“Sorry, teach, he got the jump on me that time,” Yuuji rubs his cheek, sore from the hit he just gave himself to shut Sukuna up again.

“Did he now?” Gojo raises an eyebrow. “Curious.”

Sukuna remains quiet for the rest of the day, and smartly so. He doesn’t know why seeing you get hurt made him so… angry. The need to protect you and make sure you were okay was the first thought on his mind.

He scoffs. An immortal being like him caring and worrying over a measly, fragile, little human? Unthinkable. Yet, the more he thinks about it, the less he wants to see you hurt again.

He can protect you. He can keep you safe.

A week passes before Sukuna can see you again, the time passing agonizingly slow. In this dull world, you’re the only thing that has managed to captivate him. He doesn’t know why, but you make him feel alive.

The mission is simple: eradicate a few lower level curses from the abandoned factory, then home before dinner. You should be in and out in no time at all, considering you’re with Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara.

If only you hadn’t decided to split up to cover more ground. If only the factory didn’t have an incomplete domain held within it. If only there wasn’t a special grade lurking in the dark.

Sukuna hadn’t been worried. You’ve proven that you’re more than capable of handling yourself with a few measly little lower grade curses. This should be a walk in the park for you.

That is, until he heard your scream of fear.

It’s like the whole building pulsed as Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body, most of the lower grade curses now fleeing at the shift in curse energy. Even the special grade froze in its spot momentarily, before going back to tormenting you with old memories. Memories which you had suppressed for the better part of your life, if only shortly.

The worst part? The way it could imitate your parent’s voices as they screamed at you, berating you into nothing as you cower into the corner.

No wonder you had flinched when he had called you brat.

Unprecedented rage boils within Sukuna as he discovers you clutching onto your thigh desperately, blood spilling over your hands as you cower in the corner away from the laughing curse. It’s taunting you, easily playing with you before it kills you as it cuts more slashes into your skin.

“What’s this?” His voice hardly remains steady as he appears behind the curse in the blink of an eye. At least the curse is smart enough to go silent, body going ridged at the waves of rage rolling off of Sukuna behind it. “By all means, don’t let me interrupt.”

With the flick of his wrist, the curse is shredded into nothing.

“Never touch what isn’t yours, fool,” he seethes, purposely stepping through the remains of the curse, even as it dissipates beneath him.

He manages to get two feet away from you before you’re shrinking back, cowering even more beneath his gaze. You look at him with nothing but fear in your eyes, your hands desperately covering your ears as if to block out even more brutal insults thrown your way despite the room now echoing in silence.

Sukuna has always loved the way people cower before him, the way they look at him with terror in their eyes as they breathe their last breath before he smites them where they stand. Normally, his chest would fill with pride at the fear pouring off of you, how you shrink away from his touch, desperate to get away. He would never think twice about hurting someone.

But you? Never you.

That familiar tightness swells in his chest the more you look at him with those glossy eyes, form physically shaking as you attempt to hold onto life for just a little while longer.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” never before has he uttered those words before and actually meant them. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

Scooping you into his arms, he’s quick to move up onto the roof of the factory, seeing as the incomplete domain had disappeared thanks to him destroying the special grade. Surprisingly, he’s very careful with you, being mindful of your injuries so as not to aggravate them any further.

In the back of his mind, he begins to wonder why the boy hasn’t attempted to take his body back anymore after he got rid of that special grade.

Finally, as Sukuna uses his reverse curse technique to heal your wounds, he feels you body start to calm down. Your shaking has nearly stopped and no more tears escape your eyes, though you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Why did you help me?”

Sukuna remains quiet, cupping your face in his hands as his thumbs move to stroke your cheeks. Even he doesn’t know the answer to that one.

As soon as you hear your name being called by Nobara, his tattoos begin to fade from Yuuji’s skin. In his final seconds remaining in control, Sukuna feels you place a hand over one of his own, and he swears a shiver runs down his spine. The next words out of your mouth are like music to his ears, and he swears he’ll make you say them again, in any and every way he can.

“Thank you, Sukuna,” you breathe.

Within seconds, Yuuji is back, blinking at you with wide eyes and retracting his hands from your face somewhat confusedly.

“What’d I miss?” He asks, tilting his head slightly as both Megumi and Nobara finally reach you both on the roof.

“I think Sukuna just saved my life,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

The three of them blink at you in disbelief while unbeknownst to them, Sukuna sits on his throne watching the entire scene unfold with a smug grin on his face. You’ll be his soon, he’ll make sure of it.

“Sukuna? Doing something good?” Nobara voices, appalled. “Now there’s an oxymoron. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Just fine,” you shoot her a reassuring smile, turning to face Yuuji once more.

And Sukuna knows, just knows, that that smile is meant for him.

212 notes · View notes

heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Old Stomping Ground

[Ava Starr X Female Reader]

Summary: One of the good things to come out of constant alien invasions are the abandoned ruins of New York, and you’re fixing to show Ava your favorite place. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 13+ | can be reader gender and race neutral reader but is written with woc readers in mind, no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp, Ava and reader on an adventure in post Avenger's New York, homelessness, alien trees and the power of community.

AN: no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. No beta, we die like men. Just you and Ava having a short adventure.

You took three days off of work for this one. Packed two backpacks with food, water, clothes, and other supplies. Bedrolls and bug spray and hiking poles. Ava laughed at your enthusiasm but she seemed to vibrate with excitement right along with you.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going," she pleaded.

You ran through the end of the checklist for the third time, trying to be extra careful now that you wouldn't be hoofing it solo. You dodged the question expertly with a "it's not far and it's not dangerous so hush! Learn to enjoy the mystery, babe."

Ava rolled her eyes playfully but stopped asking and let you finish. After that you ate a hearty breakfast and began your journey north by northwest. In the taxi, your girlfriend's eyes darted from building to building as you turned on every street and you mentally gave up on scolding her. She was too pragmatic to allow for that level of trust yet.

You were surprised that it took her until you passed the ruins of the daycare you once attended that she whipped her head around to whisper, "is this… Leviathan alley?"

You shush her but can't keep the excited grin from your face. "It's a bit more than just an alley."

Once SHIELD was finished stripping for parts and gutting the cybernetically enhanced alien creature left behind in the Battle of New York, the rest was abandoned. The city's been planning to clean up and rebuild but there are scores in the earth where the leviathan crashed and crumbling, precarious buildings that need to be brought down first in the safest way possible. While the city’s been debating how to deal with the destruction, the poor and destitute had moved in and discovered the blood of the chitauri has some very interesting properties.

"It's like it changes the property of concrete," you explained, climbing over rubble and reaching back to pull her up, "uhg– breaks it down into some kind of hyper fertilizer. There's this copse of trees growing where we think the stomach was and I think in its natural habitat, the creature was probably an omnivore of sorts and may have swallowed thousands of seeds–"

"That's all very fascinating dear, could you please take this?" Ava shoves a canteen into your hands and cups your hands to bring it closer to your mouth. You've climbed for what feels like miles and hey, you are pretty parched. "Think we'd better rest and eat, maybe look for a safe place to set up camp and… oh, look over there!"

Ava's sudden whisper makes you turn. It's green in that direction, though this 'alley' is shrouded in darkness due to the dome made from the spine and ribs of the leviathan, the sprigs seem to grow just fine, becoming taller as they moved farther away from you until they began to develop woody stalks and trunks.

"That's the forest you were talking about," Ava whispered in awe. “I wanna get a closer look.”

You gently caught her arm. “Camp first, eat. It’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Ava didn’t expect you to take her into an encampment. There were two dozen people in tents, an open grill going and laughter. They seemed to recognize you. It was mostly older adults, a few elderly people wrapped in thick blankets and teens walking around asking anyone needed drinks. You grabbed the blanket from your pack and wrapped Ava in it as soon as she found a seat on a slab of concrete.

"Comfy?"

Ava smiled up at you, taking the proffered fruit slice from you. "Very."

She examined the strange fruit. It had a thin violet skin with a spongy white inner layer and pink juice with black seeds dripping from it. She leabed over your shoulder get a look at the fruit as a whole, and it seemed the pink goop was loose inside the fruit similar to a coconut.

"Are these from the trees," she asked.

"Yeah, they're edible don't worry. No side effects we've seen," you assure.

Ava nods but as she's licking the tangy pink juice you continue, "well except for Nadia but she's a mutant."

Ava flicks worried green eyes at you and slowly takes the fruit from her mouth. She's already swallowed on reflex so there's no turning back now, only managing whatever weird things would come next.

"Uh… what do you mean by that?"

You blink at Ava. "Oh it's not, like, bad or anything. Right, Nadia?"

A dark skinned girl in an orange beanie looked up from her phone. "What?"

"Tauri makes you, what, gassy?"

The man on the grill threw his head back in a laugh and Nadia kicked a rock at you. "Ha hah, you're everybody's favorite clown in the circus. It doesn't make me gassy, you jerk, it makes me smell like roses actually."

"Oh," Ava said, "that's all?"

You and Nadia shared a knowing look. "It's strong. Not overpowering but strong like you've got your nose buried in a whole bouquet of them."

"And your fingers tingle and you make sparkles– "

"Nadia I think that's just you, baby!"

People laughed and the conversation died down. Ava let the slip of tauri fruit linger in her grasp until you gently pried it out and ate it yourself. You were side eyeing her but kept your question to yourself and eventually Ava was able to relax. She fell asleep during Nadia's uncle Rodney's story with her head on your shoulder and dreamed of violet things. Violet dresses, violet paint, violet fires, and violet sprigs.

All you could dream of was the smell of roses so close and so thick you could touch it.

The walk through the natural path as the trees got thicker finally prompted Ava to ask the question that's been plaguing her. "How do you know them? Are they family?"

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and slowed your pace to match hers as your fingers tapped the straps of your backpack nervously. "Sort of. They were family when I had no home to go to. Then I got a job with enough money and a stupid good deal on my apartment because I had no priors.

"Rodney and Jules and some of the others prefer it out here with the forest. Some of them have nowhere else to go or no way to take care of themselves. Nadia's been kicked out of every home she's ever been to, but she won't go to that gifted school for mutants in Westchester county. Can't say I blame her either."

"School for mutants, eh," Ava said as she trudged on, "interesting."

You walked along in silence, drinking in the inviting quiet of the forest and the tiny chirps and peeps of its new inhabitants. You'd almost say it would be a shame to tear this place down knowing it's a new natural habitat, but you know New York had a hundred bigger and more pressing issues to deal with right now. As long as any capitalist moguls kept their eyes elsewhere, the new jungle should be fine.

As the forest becomes denser, you have to pull a rechargeable flashlight out to see the ground beneath you. Black bugs crawl under and over the brush and fallen twigs, and something no bigger than a cat scuttles away out of the path of the light. Ava puts a hand on your arm and you open your mouth to assure her you'd protect her, but as you look at her you realize she's ready to protect you. Arm poised out and eyes darting around for signs of sudden movement from the brush.

You walk in silence for what feels like an fantastic eternity but when you look at the canopy you stop yourself. Ava looks up to, gently taking a hold of your hand to keep you close and it sends tingles up your arm. She rarely reaches for you but she seems to be growing more and more confident of it.

Light dances beyond the thicket of the leaves. Green and gold flashes as a soft breeze creates gaps beyond the chitauri rib ceiling and every time a light flashes you feel warmth on your skin like soft little kisses.

Something wooden creaks, and that creaking quickly turns to snapping. You unconsciously squeeze Ava's fingers as you spot a black tree trunk beginning to fall towards you. Suddenly, Ava's arms are around you and she pulls you down into a duck.

Everything happens so fast it blinds you. You can't see, can only feel as shivers of warmth and cold jitter through your entire being, drowning you into sensations you've never felt before. It makes you feel fear more than anything. Is this how you die? Cowering?

When the sounds of falling trees stop, there is only the wind and the rush of Ava's windbreaker against yours. You test your fingers to see if they still work and dig them into her back. Nothing broken, you're still standing if gravity is correct.

She finally lets you lift your head from her embrace and survey the scene. That tree opened a spot in the canopy for more natural light to pour in which is good because your flashlight was lost among the thick bramble bushes.

Ava brushes your forehead. "Are you OK?"

It must be a trick of the light but she looks like she's shimmering. Perhaps you hit your head or something but it seems like you never fell. Your standing just beside the fallen tree but you could have sworn you'd almost felt it go through you. And then…

And then there was the smell of roses.

"I'm fine," you say at last. "Let's get back, probably shouldn't have come here by ourselves anyways…"

Ava gives you a look, it almost looks like trepidation. You steel your resolve and press on to retrace your steps, knowing you had a lot of walking to do before you would exit the treeline.

Ava has powers and you're ok with that. You'll just let her tell you in her own time.

#three bees writing #ava starr #ava starr x female reader #ava starr x reader #marvel #antman and the wasp #black reader insert #🐝🐝🐝✒

33 notes · View notes

chronolium · 2 years

Text

There is an uneasy feeling descending the elevator. A feeling of an adventure beginning, of mysteries unfolding in abandoned structures. Strange sounds appear to come from all directions—skittering and slithering, but perhaps you can't trust your own senses. There's an eerie premonition: you are not safe. At least not completely. But is the threat something physical, or just a shadow cast by your own mind?

These thoughts both fill you with doubt yet at the same time encourage you to push forward. At least until the doors open, you say, for what could go wrong with just a peek? As the worst of the thoughts start to fade from your mind, the lights start to flicker again before returning to their previous brightness, and you're once again alone in the elevator.

The screen above the elevator door makes another ding! sound, and shows a familiar message: Stay safe! The doors start to open and the sunlight pours in, bright and blinding in the moments before your eyes adjust. You step out and look around; you seem to be at the peak of a dune, more solid than you expect, and the elevator... is just an elevator. There is no elevator shaft or structure surrounding it. From the outside, it just seems like an elevator in the middle of nowhere, and there's nowhere it can go and no way to function, and yet...

Around the dune is a vast desert, which from what you can tell is split pretty evenly between sandy dunes and a flatter area with mesas and plateaus of varying sizes. You swear you can see a pool of water surrounded by out-of-place flora, but it may just be a mirage. Just like the large... something you can occasionally see moving in the distance in your peripheral must be a mirage... right?

You feel like you should follow the road in front of you. You don't know what you'll find, and that both scares and excites you in equal measures. There could be so much to find.

WHAT WILL YOU FIND?

Welcome to Step #3 of our first Community Expansion project, which is also likely to be the last step of the project! Rather than add an additional one or two more steps with increasing specificity in the question we ask, it was thought best to simply make this one the most free-form response in order to not drag out the project so much. This is only our first Community Expansion project after all, and we're still learning the best way to go about them, so if you have any feedback about these and how we might do better with them in the future, we're all ears (both anonymously or otherwise)!

But back to the desert—thank you to those who sent in a submission for the previous step; like last time, even if we did not use yours, it's been kept for potential reuse in the future. As you've read, this desert has a mix of unease and adventure both (though definitely erring more towards unease if anything), and so the features of this desert will probably not be the safest or kindness, whether that means physically or mentally. Probably!

So with that in mind, as well as the previous base qualities of this new location decided in the previous Step, now we ask: what would you place in this desert location, if you were on the Chronolium staff team? What areas of interest, akin to the ones in the existing Chronolium locations, would you create for this eerie, half-unsettling desert location? That is the question for this step!

You can be as simple or detailed as you'd like with this. If you wrote in "a haunted house" that would be enough, and we would fill in the rest to create a nice area of interest that we think/hope follows what you had in mind. Or you could write an entire paragraph describing the haunted house and its architecture, the background lore for it and the kinds of creepy crawlies you'd find within, and where exactly you can find it in this desert, etc, and that would work too! Keep in mind, though, that if it was longer than a paragraph or two, we'd have to pare it down a bit.

You can submit multiple ideas, however they may not all be used. Along similar lines, this area won't be limited to only four areas of interest like the other locations—we won't go overboard with them, but don't worry about trying to be good enough for the top 4 ideas only!

That's about it for this post. You have the foundation of an area to build off of, decided by other members of the Chronolium community, and now you can help take it to completion. The next post about this will be the opening of the new location, and thus the end of this Community Expansion project. The deadline for submissions this time will be a much longer submission period, as the idea is for us to work on the area's page while submissions are open in order to have it ready ASAP after submissions close.

The deadline for submissions this time around will be the end of Saturday, February 5th.

Thank you for reading and bearing with us throughout this as we try something new!

— Chronolium Staff.

#chrono community expansion #community expansion 1

1 note · View note

sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Text

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.3k

Warnings: swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 15 Part 17

Part 16

Liam cooked us a chicken stir-fry with Asian vegetables for dinner. I was mildly surprised that he was such a good cook and told him so. He said he had to learn pretty quickly in the early days of his career when he would go months without a paying job.

"I was lucky. My parents were supportive, so I knew I wouldn't starve, and they would give me money if I asked. I didn't want to, though. I felt like if I had to ask for money, then I was a failure. It motivated me to go to more auditions, prepare better, take some classes to get more skills, perfect my accents."

I admired him for that. From what I knew about his family, they seemed to be wealthy. It would have been easy for him to rely on them while trying to make it.

Liam had told me a lot about his family. He was very close to his two brothers. It seemed like he was a bit of a mummies boy, and I supposed that comes from being the youngest. He seemed to credit his Dad for his love of stories and his desire to act.

"Have you told them about me? Your family, I mean." I asked a bit hesitantly, unsure how I'd feel if he said no.

I shouldn't have worried though, his huge smile said it all. "I told Mum about you over a month ago."

"We hadn't even met yet."

"I know," Liam sounded a bit bashful as he continued. "My Mum kept saying how happy I sounded. I kept dropping hints that she thought I was seeing someone. She's very good at reading me. She hounded me until I told her."

"What did she say?"

"She was surprised we hadn't met. I spoke to her during the week a few times and told her we'd met, and it went well, and we'd seen each other the whole weekend. It was a bit awkward like I said. She knows me too well. She said, 'You mean you spent the weekend shagging.'"

"Oh, my God!" I was so embarrassed. "What did you say? She's going to think I'm the town bike."

"She wasn't judging, by the way. She was worried about how you would react to me. She was happy because she felt like I shouldn't have used Simons photos."

"She's not wrong," I said.

"I know, I know. Do I have to apologise again?"

"No, just don't do it again."

He briefly grinned but then looked at me, his face and tone serious. "Hopefully, I'll never have to."

I didn't know how to respond to that. What did he even mean by that? I didn't ask. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. I cleared my throat. "Is that all she said?" I asked, instead.

Liam opened his mouth and was about to say something before closing his mouth and trying again. "Well, then she saw the photos and stories about us. I tell her not to read that stuff because most of it is rubbish. But she does. Anyway, she said we looked lovely together and..." he paused before continuing. "And she can't wait to meet you in a few months. She's coming for a visit in late June early July for my two-week hiatus."

I almost asked what he was going to say, but I changed my mind. "What about your brothers? Your Dad?"

"Well, my Dad isn't much of a talker when it comes to relationships. But he did say Mum had shown him your picture and that you seemed like a nice girl. Other than that, he didn't comment. He rarely does unless he thinks someone isn't good for me."

"Is he coming with your mum?"

"Only for one week. My mum will stay for nearly three. My brothers well..." he grinned. "You know what brothers are like. We are rarely serious together. Also, we rarely call each other. We mostly keep in contact through group chats." His lip twitched as he said, 'there were a lot of ginger jokes this week."

I could only imagine what those chat logs contain. I rolled my eyes at the thought. "The bastards," I said.

Liam laughed then asked, "what about your family?"

"I haven't told them much. Dave knows a bit. I haven't told Mum anything." I shifted in my seat. "Dave knew I was seeing someone after I asked him to watch Perrin. But he didn't ask questions. Then on Friday, he found out it was you. He seemed ok with it." I brightened and said, "they will know all about you next week anyway."

Liam returned my smile.

After dinner, we went to bed. We both read for a while. Liam sat up with his back against the headboard while I laid on my back, using his chest as a pillow. I read until I fell asleep.

I grew to hate Sundays.

Sunday's meant my time with Liam was coming to a close. This Sunday had a silver lining because I would only have to wait until Thursday to see him again. This only partially comforted me because it was also the premiere. As the time drew closer, I knew I'd regret saying yes.

I sat with my head in my hands in the store's dressing room. Just picking which dresses to try on had been an ordeal. I had done a quick google search that morning to see what kind of dresses people wore to premieres, and it was almost no help. The range was too extensive. It seemed nearly anything was acceptable, from cocktail dresses to full-on evening wear.

Some articles made me feel sick, especially the articles about the actresses. So many articles talked about how many women found it hard to find dresses in their size because they were size 6 and too big to fit into most designers dresses. I checked out a size conversion chart and found that size 6 was a size 10 here. I was usually a size 10, but sometimes my arse needs a size 12.

I started thinking I was too fat. I kept thinking about my huge arse and thighs, which got me spiralling into thinking my breasts were too small, my hair was too frizzy, I had too many freckles, and I was too pale. The list of my faults just grew in my head until I was sure I'd end up at the premiere looking like a bush pig in a dress.

I started to breathe deeply, in through my nose, hold it, out through my mouth. After several breaths, I opened my eyes. I could do this. I picked up the first dress the assistant had helped me pick. She knew it wasn't going to wor. It was a loose short black lace dress with puffy sleeves that would make me look like the only shape I had was round. The other picks she made were dresses that looked like they were for the bride's grandmother. She also looked at Liam too many times for my liking. She was very helpful if you call taking us to dresses sold out in my size useful. Or if directing all her questions at Liam was helpful. I'll bet she's out there right now being helpful...

Fuck me dead! I think I'm jealous.

That was an emotion I hadn't felt in a while, and I didn't like it. Fuck that. I don't need to be jealous. I picked through the dresses until I found the one I already knew would be the winner.

It was from Australian designer Maticevski. The gown was black with a high neckline, and the beautiful fabric gathered on the left shoulder. The dress was pulled from the hips and cinched in the waist. It had a thigh-high split, revealing just enough skin to be sexy and a small but elegant train. I loved it the moment I saw it and knew I wanted it. But it was $2,500. I loved it so much I almost didn't care. I mean, I knew I wasn't the one people cared about. They wanted to see Liam. This time was different because it would be our first official event together, and the story right now was who was he dating. This time I would get attention. But I still thought it was too much money. I had almost put it back, but the assistant smirked. Liam, bless him, took it out of my hands and said he would love to see it on me.

I wriggled my way into the dress and looked into the mirror. It was the winner for sure. I had brought my heels from Friday night to try the dress on with, and though they weren't quite right for the dress, they gave a good idea of what I would look like. It was slightly too tight around the hips and too a little big on the top. I could get it altered, though. It wouldn't take much. Maybe even a bra with a bit of padding would fix it. I flipped my hair to give it some bounce and a sexy 'just been fucked' look and stepped out.

I was right. She was hitting on Liam hard. I wanted to punch her in the face. But then Liam saw me, and the way he looked at me made me forgot about her. I took a few steps over to him and posed in an over the top way.

"What do you think?" I asked Liam.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes did. He had the same look when he approached me on Friday night. This is definitely the dress.

"It's not too dressed up? I could try something else if you think it's too much." I said to Liam.

"It doesn't quite fit. Perhaps the..." the assistant didn't get time to finish before Liam spoke.

"No." He said firmly, cutting her off. He cleared his throat and approached me. "It's absolutely perfect." He kissed me, and his lips were so soft. He ran his hands over my waist and stood back, looking me up and down. "Perfect. We will take it."

"You don't want to try..." the assistant tried again.

Liam didn't even look at her. "I said we would take it. The other dresses can go back. Thank you for your help." I loved it when he spoke in that authoritative tone, which made me weak.

She went into the dressing room and took away the ten other dresses I was going to try. I wasn't sad to see them go, none of them would be as good as this, but I still wasn't sure.

"I can try another dress. I mean, this one is stupid expensive."

"I don't care if it was a hundred thousand dollars, you look amazing, and you like it, so you will have it."

"I just don't know if I can afford to spend money like this for one night."

"I invited you. I'm paying."

"Fuck. I should have said I need matching earrings." I joked.

"Do you?" He asked, sincere.

"No, don't be silly. Shoes and a handbag will do. I'll buy the shoes you buy the bag. Deal?"

"Nope." He was shaking his head, "I want to get everything for you. Think of it as an Easter present."

"I can afford to buy things for myself, you know. I make pretty good money considering I own my house, and I only have to take care of myself and Perrin."

"I know." Liam ran his fingers through his hair. "Call me a misogynist if you want, but I want to buy you things, pretty things, things you'd never buy yourself. I want to take care of you."

I decided to let it go. I didn't think it's misogynistic to want to buy your girlfriend a present. It's misogynistic if you think you own her because you chose to buy her things. And it did feel nice to have him want to buy me pretty things.

"Ok, Liam," I said.

His smile came back. "Good. Get changed, and let's buy you some shoes." His lip twitched. "Do you need help taking it off?"

"Get out of it." I laughed and got changed.

When I had come out, he wasn't waiting for me. I looked around and couldn't find him in the shoes or the bags. A thought came to me. I hated that I thought it, but I wondered if the shop assistants come on had worked. I didn't believe it, not really, but once the thought was there, it wouldn't leave.

I didn't want to, but I looked for the shop assistant. As I looked, I felt sick from fear and disgust with myself. I found her putting away the dresses from the dressing room, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated myself. I wasn't usually like this. It wasn't fair on Liam either. He had given me no reason to suspect him at all.

Then I started to panic. My breath came out shallow and rapid. I felt smothered. There were no windows, and I needed to get out. There were too many people.

I felt warm hands slide under my t-shirt and rest on my belly.

I jumped and spun around. It was Liam. "Ready for shoes, Sweetheart?" He asked.

"Where were you? I looked everywhere."

"I went down to menswear real quick," Liam said. "Now that I know what you're going to wear, I know what I'm going to wear, and I needed a new shirt. It took longer than I thought."

"No worries. I just, I didn't know, it's ok."

"You ok?"

I nodded. "Let's go."

Part 17

#original character #original fiction #romantic story #happy ever after

8 notes · View notes