#also i deeply apologize for my existence suddenly ceasing

[tomatograter]

Do you think Dirk saying that he doesn't like to label himself as gay means he has internalized homophobia? Or does he really just don't like to put labels on himself? I've seen ppl saying it's homophobia but there's ppl in real life that don't feel comfortable with labels so I'm a bit confused honestly, cus we are talking about Dirk and he's... Dirk after all

Easy answer: Dirk is Gay.

Prolonged answer: I think it's kinda weird how some fandom discussion around "Dirk dodging the label in One pesterlog" has largely spiraled way outside of its original context to be talked about in a vacuum, especially when that context is crucial to understanding what is actually being said, AKA — it belongs to a deeply awkward conversation between Dirk and Roxy. One of Many they are implied to have had about the subject of Roxy's sustained, unwelcome, and oft drunken advances towards Dirk (& his splinters).

I'm going to reproduce it plus another bit of text down below, for the sake of comparison.

(To prevent the trickster text from looking like absolute shit, I have altered the background. Read the original here, if you're nasty: https://www.homestuck.com/story/5754 )

Now that we've been reacquainted with how and where that sentiment is expressed, let's try to break down what Dirk is doing here.

He is not receptive to Roxy's early advances, and spends most of the 'intro' for this conversation (not pictured) ignoring when Roxy flirts with him, until she gets upset at how 'boring' he is being right now.

Dirk is the one compelled to apologize.

He proceeds to shut the scenario down as an unwanted probability, eliciting further guilt-babbling from Roxy over how Dirk never wants to play along with the perfect traditional family fantasy, until she finally blows up and says it's because he's gay.

"I mean, yeah, that's what I thought."

Dirk, rather than saying I Am Not Gay, since he looooooves changing a conversational subject, claims that "Gay" is not entirely historically appropriate for this situation, given the non-negligible passage of time and the wildly dystopic circumstances* they find themselves in.

Dirk reassures Roxy he does still care about her.

Dirk is absolutely terrified of a similarly inclined (and intoxicated) Roxy up close. This is the most exclamations he's ever used.

Now, *These circumstances? The loss of 99% of the human race, including their society, customs, culture, and prejudices. (ALLEGEDLY.) It's important to remember that from Dirk and Roxy's side of the timetable, troll culture has been pushed as "the norm" for actual fucking centuries. HIC tried to recreate the caste system by artificially coloring human blood, leading to the death of billions. Faygo came out of the water tap, not water. Troll slang was incorporated into the English language. Humans ceased to organically reproduce. They were actively Discouraged from reproducing, since that's not something HIC could have total genetic control over; rendering traditional marriage and the concept of the nuclear family pointless.

You could also argue that same-gender relationships are not uncommon in Alternia, making "gay" altogether unnecessary by proxy, and that's true! But my point is this one: any union (or at least our society's holy concept of it) between straightie humans would be by definition undesirable under HIC's rule, too. She is the church, the president and the governing body. The population is only as good as they are assets for her to do whatever she wants with, including mass murder.

But wait! While that tracks… Roxy clearly still holds onto very 'conservative' definitions of romance for most of Homestuck. We see this multiple times. Dirk, as proved in conversations with Jake, uses 'gay' as an ironic pejorative. Suddenly it's not Historically Inaccurate anymore, Jake's interests are just gay.

Does this mean the context above is basically worthless, since they don't seem to have internalized it? No.

What must be kept in mind is this: Dirk and Roxy's only "active" link to de facto humanity is our society as it was in the early 2010's. Those glimpses they get by talking with jane and jake. They have all that dystopic context, yes, but the reality that seems the most "unfucked" to them for a grand majority of their lives are the halcyon years before the Condesce's rise to power: back when weed was illegal, BlogSpot was popular, movies sucked, MTV was still a hip channel, and gay generally meant something real bad. The wave of homophobia as a punchline or fear mongering tactic was at THE HEIGHTS. Marriage equality was a hot debate topic. Those were the dayz.

Dirk is keenly aware of the taboo implication the word "Gay" as a self-denomination carries. He's no dummy. But he's rarely direct with his intentions either. He's slippery as a bar of soap. (He's never "straight about his feelings", if you prefer.) And for a guy that cares so much about his reputation and maintaining a curated sense of utter coolness, he wants to avoid outing himself as any sort of weirdo no matter the cost.

But that's not all. I think the gravity of just how much Dirk believes he *owes* Roxy simply for existing as the last human in the same timeframe as her is a severely underplayed aspect of Dirk's core character, together with how much he tries to avoid her sexual advances only to end up feeling like absolute shit over it, because — if they truly are the last people on god's blighted earth, isn't he being "selfish" and "irrational" about not feeling shit for Roxy, in the grand scale of things? Is Roxy not his only friend in tangible reality, even if he avoids the mere suggestion of visiting her? Even if she gets black-out drunk and tries to push him into indulging her, regardless of how many times he's already said no?

(Spend enough time here and you realize how it directly mirrors the jane/jake experience.)

Dirk cares a lot about each and every one of his friends.

He pointedly adapts his speech based on whichever one of them he's talking to in an effort to express that investment. May it be reassuring Jane, fooling around with Jake, or trying to prevent Roxy from falling into a total catatonic doom-spiral; he avoids telling them anything that would be too crushing to hear. That's not what he's trying to do here. Not to say that he isn't bitchy sometimes, but that’s far from the central thing he does. The Epilogues have retroactively led people to believe that Dirk abhors and despises every single person he's ever been close to before (god forbid) LIKING them, and I think buying too much into that assumption ignores the foundations of his canon text, as well as the central motivation behind 99% of his actions in the story. This is the guy that grew up on Friendship Is Magic, has a picture of rainbow dash shamefully glued to one wall and a rainbow poster of Jake's symbol stapled to another, and everything he does is a little cringe attempt to demonstrate his worth by showing how much he cares about people, even when he's punching his actual feelings down instead of up and saying them.

Which brings us back to the load-bearing part of this question: Admitting to Roxy that there is absolutely no fucking way he will ever agree to having her babbys because he is gay is precisely the opposite of what Dirk wants to say, if his intention isn't pulverizing her. So he doesn't. And his worry on this regard is such that it prevents Dirk from even telling Roxy that he does love her, in the platonic sense, as a friend and hell-earth survivor, because he knows that specificity is what that would disappoint her greatly. (He only ever confesses this to Jane, on the death slabs.)

But also I think this is a really funny visual of Dirk's relationship with the word gay, to put statements into perspective:

#homestuck #meta #dirk strider #roxy lalonde #dirkroxy #long post #janejake

[valentina-writes]

Starfall

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, feel free to ask for a specific imagine, headcanon or oneshot. At first I will only write for Azriel. Thanks for reading!

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

“Look, y/n, there is nothing you need to worry about. Nothing. It’s Azriel we are talking about. He may be a spymaster, but he’s pretty damn clueless at the same time”, your best friend Mor reminded you.

The two of you were standing in your bedroom in the House of Wind, getting ready for starfall. You had just been talking about your crush on the spymaster in question - to be honest, that was no surprise. You had found a person to rely on when you told Mor about your feelings for him. And since then somehow all of your conversations seemed to be about him.

“I know, Mor, I know! But everything I do, everything I say seems so obvious to me. And I can’t even do anything about it! I try being decent about it, but it’s always the same. We start talking about anything and I can only concentrate on how close he is and on his eyes and his face and his lips and then I start blushing and it gets super awkward”.

Embarassing memories of your last birthday came to your mind, where you had hugged him for the present he gave you - a beautiful necklace - and he had been noticably uncomfortable for the rest of the evening, shadows surrounding him. Then Mor, already super drunk, had nearly told him you were in love with him, after you tried to apologize and talk about the next mission he would be sent on.

She thought about your concerns for a while and just said: “Then try not to talk to him. I don’t think that he ever noticed anything weird about your behavior, because then he would’ve said something. But if you are not comfortable striking up a conversation because of what could happen, just don’t do it”.

Then she left your bedroom mumbling something about Rhys’ wine and you were left on your own.

Your heart was beating in anticipation and fear. You would see Azriel today. Truly see him, after months of only getting a few glimpses at him before he was sent on his next mission.

But what would he do if he noticed that you were in love with him? Would he push you away? Tell you that he’s still not over Mor? Laugh at you for your childish hopes?

You pushed your worries aside and smoothed out your dark blue dress. Today was a holiday. A festive day meant to be celebrated. Even if you would deeply embarrass yourself again, there would still be Mor and Cassian and Rhys’ good wine to help you forget what you had done.

When you left your room, there was already music playing and a few guests chatting and drinking. The house was beautifully decorated. But you could not appreciate any of that. 

“Y/n! Come over here!”, Cassian called out to you. You quickly spotted him and braced yourself. Where Cassian was, there usually was Azriel too.

And yes, there next to Cassian, hidden behind his raging shadows, was Azriel, handsome as ever. You quickly shifted your glance to the group surrounding him, unable to look at him for another second.

You could not have him. Never. He was still in love with Mor, still not over his past. And though you couldn’t blame him for that, your feelings did not cease. If anything, they grew stronger by the second. And that terrified you. Because what if you would spend eternity yearning and longing for him like you were now?

“Are you alright?”, Rhys asked you. He looked concerned, as if he could see right through you.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all”, you quickly said and smiled at him. That wasn’t even a lie. Since Azriel had been on one of his dangerous missions to the Autumn Court, you hadn’t been able to sleep at night, always fearing for his life. Every morning when a new report from him came, you were incredibly happy. He was alive.

“Well, then prepare to be even more tired tomorrow. You won’t get any sleep tonight!”, Cassian exclaimed, pointing at the dance floor that was now filling up.

“We will see, Cassy, we will see”.

“Cassy? I like that. I like that a lot. Maybe I should call you Cassy baby. That fits your childish antics”, Amren said, joining your group. You were almost sure that you heard a low chuckle out of Azriel’s direction.

“I should better get going”, Rhys quietly excused himself, walking towards Feyre, the newest addition to your circle. He seemed to be drawn towards her, like you were towards Azriel. The only difference being that she acted the same way as Rhysand, instead of kepping away.

“Me too. I’m gonna get Mor, I don’t want her to drink all of the good stuff herself”, Cassian said and disappeared in the crowd. You desperately wanted him to stay. Being alone with Azriel would only lead to awkward looks and you rambling on and on about something like the weather.

“Gosh, if they keep going like that they won’t be able to stand upright at the end of the night”. Amren shot some glances at you and Azriel, while saying that. You had never explicitly told her about your feelings, but still it looked like she knew something. Probably because of how obvious you usually were about your feelings.

“Anyway, that’s too funny not to watch. I will have them get me some fresh blood tomorrow for keeping an eye on them”. Amren mouthed a good luck to you and then made her way through the crowd, too - in a totally different direction than Cassian. You would not get her any blood, that was for sure. She had set you and Azriel up against your will. 

You felt your cheeks heating up, when you turned to face Azriel. His face showed no sign of noticing what Amren just had done.

“Hi”, you breathed, “it’s nice to see you”. You tried your best holding his gaze without showing how he made you feel. How his hazel eyes burned into your soul, making your knees wobbly and heart pound.

“It’s nice to see you too, y/n”, he answered.

For a while you just stood there, watching the others. Mor and Cassian had started a very ... unconservative looking dance battle. You started to think about what you could tell him, how you could start a conversation. When all of a sudden-

“Do you want to dance?”. It was more of a whisper than anything else, nearly drowning in the noise of the crowd.

You spun around to see him looking at you. For the first time today you allowed yourself to look at him, truly look at him. He looked very tired and reserved, his wings tucked tightly against his back. The usual look of shyness surrounding his face. You could not look away, drank in his features, noticing his dark blue suit. The same color as his siphons he didn’t wear today. The same color as your dress.

“Yes”, you said, smiling. Your heart began to beat even faster when he laid his hand on your waist and lead you to the dance floor. Subconsciously, you shivered at the feeling of his hands through the thin fabric of your gown. 

Azriel pulled you closer and started to slowly dance with you. You silently prayed. Dear Mother, please don’t let him hear my heartbeat. Don’t let him find out.

“I didn’t know that you can dance”, you said. He expertly waltzed you through the room. In that moment only the two of you seemed to exist. Everybody else had disappeared from your mind.

“I enjoy dancing. But only with the right partner”. Your heart fluttered in your chest at this comment. 

He opened his mouth as to say something else, but suddenly his shadows left their usual place aroung his neck and chest and darted towards you.

They brushed your face and arms, as if they wanted to play with you. You even thought you could hear them whisper things in your ear - too silent to actually make it out.

“I’m sorry, y/n”, he gasped, trying to regain control. His face looked pained, almost shocked, as he let you go and surrounded his shadows around him again. He shook his head and went out onto a near balcony.

What had just happened there? What did this mean? You went after him, wanting to see if he was okay. 

You joined him on the balcony, his wings flared as if he wanted to leave. He was so beautiful against the night sky. All of the stars looking dull in comparison to him. Laying your hand on his arm, you turned him around.

“Why did you stop?”, you wanted to kow. You did not care about the blush on your face or the concern in your voice. You did not care about exposing your feelings to him. All you cared about was him.

“It’s ... my shadows. I couldn’t control them. I’m sorry, y/n”, he repeated.

You took another step towards him, not understanding his reasoning.

“What do you mean?”. He frowned and looked down for a second. His shadows were already starting to reach out to you again.

“Most people ... most people fear them They don’t like being close to them. Close to me”. You glanced at his shadows and reached for one of them, touching it. It felt cool against your hand, chilly like the air surrounding you. 

“I don’t care, Az, they are a part of you. And to me, they appear rather playful if anything”. Again, he looked down. Almost ashamed. But then his shadows swirled freely around you, like the evening breeze.

“Also, they don’t like being near most people. They shy away. But with you ... they call out to you. Want to be near you”. Your heart missed a beat. His shadows... but that didn’t mean that he felt the same way, right? Maybe that’s why he was so embarrassed. Because his shadows acted against his will.

As you ran your fingers through the shadows and looked at his face, the way his eyes glowed in the moonlight, you made a decision. This could not go on the way it did for the last one-hundred years. You loved him. Every part of him. And if he did not feel the same way, you would end it here and now.

“Azriel, I...”, you started, but he stopped you.

“Don’t, y/n. Please, don’t”. Pain appeared in his eyes, his wings and shadows folding around him, as if to protect him. But you did not budge.

“Az, I love... I love you. I have loved you since I met you. I did not plan on telling you this, but I...I cannot live like this anymore. The constant hiding and the fear of exposing my feelings. I love you. Every part of you. And if you don’t feel the same way about me ... then that’s fine”. When this burden, the feelings you had kept to yourself for such a long time, fell from your chest, you felt weak. He would send you away, tell you he didn’t feel the same. 

You already turned around, unable to look at the shock in his eyes anymore, when his shadows pulled you back. His expression softened as he looked at your face.

“I love you too, y/n. But I was scared. Scared that this would not work out, scared of opening up. Scared of the possibility that I wasted over four hundred years waiting for Mor to fall in love with me. I did not know how to approach you, what to tell you. I wanted to be with you, yes I did. But it felt impossible, so I tried pushing you away”. He breathed out, relaxing. He loved you. He loved you. That was all you could think about.

“I went on all these missions to try to get my head free. I tried not to think about you or my feelings or how you felt about me. I tried to stop my feelings. But when I saw you today, for the first time in months ... I did not know how to react. And then we were dancing and ... the shadows gave everything away”. You reached out for his hands, holding them in yours. He let out a sharp breath but then relaxed at your touch.

“I could not sleep when you were gone”, you said, your voice barely more then a whisper, “I was afraid something would happen to you. And I was the one to check your reports every day. I nearly died every night at the thought of you dying”. Tears started to form in his eyes, as he pulled you closer.

“That’s what I felt like too”, he murmured against your hair. You let out a deep sigh.

Azriel cradled your face in his hands, ever so gently and kissed you on your lips. His wings closed around you as he deepened the kiss, slowly tasting your lips and melting into your touch.

His shadows now caressed you as he held you close. The kiss was long and sensual, as if he had waited for this to happen for a long time. As if he could never get enough of you.

And when both of you had run out of breath, you just silently stood there on the balcony, wrapped in his wings and arms, listening to his heartbeat as the stars around you fell.

#azriel oneshots #azriel x y/n #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar oneshots #azriel imagine #azriel fluff

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 4-1 : 爱德华之旅 The Journey of Edward Translation

“Life is a journey so lonely; but then, I met you.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

The lively entertainment news page was always chock full of all sorts of information.

From the divorce of the top flower maiden to the jubilant happily ever after of a popular celebrity’s long-standing relationship. The hot search was refreshed hourly.

And today, the entirety of this page was almost filled with Lin Yao’s announcement of her withdrawal from the entertainment industry,

Brother Mao: (Y/n)! Did you see? Lin Yao's leaving the entertainment industry!

I’d only just set foot into the office when Brother Mao rushed at me, shoving the screen of his phone in my face. It was streaming Lin Yao’s press conference.

❖☆———————————★❖

Lin Yao: I deeply apologize to everyone who has been supporting me, but this is my decision after having thorough thought.

Lin Yao: Starting today, I will cease acting.

She was wearing that black feather dress, and the butterflies on her cuffs fluttered their wings along with her every movement; her words setting off waves through the media.

This dress that had originally been prepared for the award ceremony had unexpectedly been used for her farewell in the end.

❖☆———————————★❖

Brother Mao: Why so sudden? Wasn't she still acting normal back when she was trying out her formal dress?

Brother Mao: Or, don't tell me her agent forced her to do it?

MC: But, don't you think she looks happier than before?

MC: A new life, a new goal. No matter which case it is, it's fine if it's her personal choice, don't you think?

I saw a flash of brilliance in her eyes, something that I’d never seen before other than back then at the café. 

It was a light so stunningly bright, even though she’d now have to face the world with her bravado, alone.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something. What did you mean when you said Bai Mu disappeared?

MC: Was he taken away by this "Blood Tribe" that you mentioned before? And even then, what's this "Blood Tribe" you spoke of?

Osborn: Why are you so very curious?

MC: It's not just curiosity… This matter already has something to do with me, regardless.

MC: I feel like it’ll always be weighing on my heart if I don’t set it straight now.

Osborn stuffed his hand into his pocket and let out a sigh.

Osborn: The Blood Tribe are a group of people with special Abilities, where bloodlines are prioritized above all. You can say that they’re... the Descendants of God.

It was a term he’d uttered after a short pause.

MC: Descendants of… God.

Osborn: That being said, I don't know whether it's true or not. It's just a legend.

I couldn’t help but look down at my fingers. Judging from what happened back then, I DID have an Ability. If so, then… Does that make me...

Osborn: And where are your thoughts running off to again? Just because you have an Ability doesn't make you one of them.

Osborn: Generally speaking, whenever someone from the Blood Tribe uses their Ability, their eyes will turn red.

There was an inkling, a vague image of something, that kept flashing past my mind, but I couldn't manage to get a firm grasp on it.

Osborn: This world is far more complicated than it seems.

Osborn: From the times of the ancients, other than the Blood Tribe and the Spirit Tribe, some humans also harbour Abilities.

Osborn: My guess is that perhaps someone up their line, like say, maybe one of their ancestors, had some form of relation to them. Or maybe it was due to some reason or another. No one really knows.

MC: The Spirit Tribe? And what is that?

Osborn: Just as the name suggests; they're the descendants of sacred beasts and deities.

MC: !

MC: So, they're not… human…?

Osborn: They're not, but they can exist in human form.

Osborn: What? Finally know what fear's really like?

I steeled myself and shook my head. Then, suddenly, a thought popped into my mind.

MC: Wait… Osborn? You're human, right…?

This question itself sounded odd. Osborn stiffened before his lips quirked up into a smile.

Osborn: Didn't you say that I'm just Osborn to you?

Osborn: And as for whether I'm part of the Blood Tribe or the Spirit Tribe… How about you guess?

Osborn: Get it wrong, and I'll have you for a snack.

He winked at me, the sly smile on his face easing some of the panic that had been in my heart.

It didn't matter what he was. I believe that he'll always be right by me, and that he'll be my guide in this strange, inexplicable, and unbelievable world.

He was someone that wouldn't hurt me.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn said that there were also some humans in the world that had Abilities. If so, then would there be people like that in my close circles?

I poked Brother Mao.

MC: Brother Mao? Do you know what Abilities are?

Brother Mao: 'Course I do.

MC: ! You-

Brother Mao: I know you want me to praise you, but you don’t have to go about it in such a roundabout way!

Brother Mao: The dress you made for Lin Yao this time turned out really good! You’re talented, young lady!

I gave an awkward smile before letting out a sigh.

Brother Mao: I heard Man'man day that today's the newbie meeting where they'll announce the mentor assignments.

Brother Mao: Your dress was so nicely done, you might actually be chosen by Director Qi himself! And when that time comes, you've gotta treat me to a round of milk tea~

MC: Oh, right! It was today!

I was so busy that I'd been up to my head in work. So much that I'd nearly forgotten about this important meeting.

Sister Zheng Lin had told me before that the mentors would choose their apprentices from each of their own individual works. So, I hope that this dress will allow me to obtain my desired result.

A glance at the time told me that it was nearly time for the meeting to commence. I did a quick and simple clean up before heading to the meeting room together with Man'man.

❖☆———————————★❖

There were already quite a number of people seated in the meeting room, with most of them in their own little groups. 

Gao Cheng, who had been sitting in a corner, smiled and waved me over upon seeing me enter.

Li Man'man: With so many newbies here, wouldn’t the competition for the mentor selection be fiercer than usual…?

Li Man'man: Please let me be assigned the mentor I want!

She clasped her hands together in nervousness, muttering the mantra under her breath over and over again.

MC: Who do you want as a mentor?

Li Man'man: Sister Zheng Lin! I love her style! What about you?

MC: I…

I leaned closer to her ear and secretly whispered the name of the person.

Li Man'man: Dear lord! You’re brave! But that’s even harder than trying to win the first prize of the annual year-end party’s lucky draw!

It was then that the door of the meeting room opened. Mya briskly strode in with wide strides.

Mya: Is everyone present? We’re short on time, so let me announce the results of your mentor assignments.

Everyone held their breaths in anticipation, nervously staring at the file she held in her hands.

Mya: Chen Xiazi. Mentor, Edward.

She was a designer from Team D. Her colleagues all wore smiles as they stood around her, congratulating her.

Mya: Jiang Lai. Mentor, Bob.

Mya: Li Man'man. Mentor, Zheng Lin.

Li Man'man: Yes!

Mya: Gao Cheng. Mentor, Mya.

Mya: Jin Shaoze. Mentor, Sariel.

MC: !

Sariel! 

I looked over to said person who got him as their mentor in envy.

Among all the names that had been listed so far, it seems like most of the mentors only selected one apprentice to take on.

Is there even any hope for a newbie like me…?

However, as the list went on and unfamiliar names sounded off one after another… I never did hear mine being called...

I kept lowering my expectations, telling myself that it wasn’t a big deal at all, but my heart continued to race as each name was ticked off. I couldn’t stop my hands, which had been placed on the table, from curling themselves into fists.

Mya: (Y/n) —

I subconsciously closed my eyes.

Mya: Mentor, Sariel.

MC: !

Li Man'man: Jesus! It really is Director Qi!

Man’man instantly made a grab for my arm in her excitement, snapping me out of my internal reveries. My mind was in a daze.

MC: It's Sariel… Thank god…

After reaching the end of the list, Mya closed the folder.

Mya: That’s all for the mentor assignments. Now, I’m going to be making another announcement.

Mya: In a month, the Design Hub will be holding a shoe design competition for all Assistant and Junior Designers.

Mya: The theme of the competition is high heels.

Mya: And the winning works will be then exhibited at the Warson Group’s big show.

Li Man'man: We have the chance to be on it!?

The meeting room broke out in a commotion almost instantly after. Mya raised her hand, rapping her knuckles on the table in a bid for silence, but there was a rare encouraging smile on her face.

Mya: I believe that all of you are aware that a big show is held once every ten years ever since Warson was established.

Mya: It is not only a summary of the past ten years as we look back at it, but it also serves as an outlook for the prospects to come. This show is a big event for both the Warson Group and the industry alike.

Mya: In the previous years, Assistant and Junior Designers were only able to participate as assistants; but this year, the board has decided to extend more opportunities.

Mya: The theme of this time’s show has been decided. It is “Spring”.

Mya: As this time’s show would also be Warson’s 120th anniversary, it will be of significant symbolic meaning to Warson as a whole.

Mya: This is an invaluable gem in the fashion industry.

Mya: As this chance is extremely rare, I do hope that all of you can seize it firmly since it might very well never happen again.

After Mya left, the people from the administration departments took over, explaining our company’s culture and systems. But it was obvious enough to anyone that everyone’s attention was no longer present.

I mused, resting my chin on my hand as I sketched an outline of a shoe in my notebook.

MC: This competition’s open to all Junior and Assistant Designers… And only one person can win…

After the initial excitement died down, I put my pencil down and contemplated the shoe I’d just sketched out.

It was an ordinary-looking shoe, made of ordinary materials and your usual out-of-the-mill patterns.

I might have made many clothes up till now, but I had a pathetically sad amount of experience when it came to making shoes, whether it be back in school or during my internship.

MC: ...I definitely need more references to work with.

MC: Oh, yes! There should be some there!

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-20) | Next Part: (Chapter 4-3)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

[officialscaramouche]

PART 3 OF THE REMEMBERING FIC POR FAVOR,,,I BEG 😞🙏

Of course! And thank u for specifying which one bc I mix the two stories up all the time lol

pairing: Scaramouche x gn!reader

wc: 1,484

tw: none

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When you woke, you lay in the softest, and silkiest bed you’ve ever laid in. The room was elegant and ornate, the walls a deeply painted red with golden accents. You sat up with surprisingly less resistance from your wound, looking down and at the bandages that you were wrapped in. Where was your shirt? And who undressed you?

The door swung open with a click and you quickly covered yourself with the blanket, looking to the door. Your captain held a tray with dishes on it, presumably breakfast. “Good morning,” he said, kicking the door closed and making his way to your bedside. He placed the tray on the bed table and took a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Is your chest feeling better?”

You bring the blanket up further and glare at him. Was he the one who undressed you? How unprofessional of a captain. “Did you undress me?”

He took another forkful and held it in front of your mouth. “Yes.”

“Why? Why not the second grade medic?”

He rolled his eyes when you pushed the fork away, eating another bite himself. “What, you want Tartaglia to see you naked? You’re lucky I’m the one who did!”

“I wish none of you undressed me without my permission!!”

Scaramouche balled his fist around the fork tightly. You were getting on his nerves. Not eating, not drinking, only fighting. “Why not me?! I’m your fucking bo—”

The door to your room clicked open again except this time, your Lieutenant came in. “Whoa! Everyone can hear you yelling outside!” He walked up to the two of you with a smile. “It’s too early to be arguing like this. It’s like you never even forgot anything!” He laughed, gesturing to you.

You glared at him too, turning to look out the window. “Are we leaving yet? I want to get back to the harbor.”

“Not yet,” Scaramouche grumbled through the pancakes. “Because of you, we cannot leave until the day after the next.”

“Because of me?!” You shout, turning to face your captain and wanting to shove him to the ground. But you turn a little too quickly and you crumble under the pain of reopening your wound.

“Please, [Y/N], we need your wound closed before we can start moving out.” He pulled down the blanket to look at your chest. You instinctively grab his wrist to stop him, but the hand above yours that also tried to stop him was your captain. Why would he care if Tartaglia looked at you naked? It wasn’t his body!

You stared Tartaglia in the eyes. “I can look at it myself. I’m the medic.”

“Alright, comrade. I’m gonna snag breakfast before it’s all gone. And you,” he pointed at Scaramouche. “No more yelling.”

After finally getting you to eat, your mood brightened up. Scaramouche was staring out the window with his chin resting in his palm, every now and then his eyes flickering to look at you. You were the same, despite not knowing much of anything. You still ate your food with vigor and you still got happier and less snappy after you ate. “Oh god are these from Mondstadt?! There so fucking good!”

Scaramouche scowled, taking a strawberry from your plate. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“Look who’s talking! I get it from you!”

You were right, though. After spending so much time with Scaramouche, certain words became more of your daily vocabulary. But wait…why did you spend so much time with your captain?

“Well hurry up so I can take your plates to the staff and you can change your own fucking dressing.”

“Why didn’t you just wait for me to wake up?” You asked, taking a big sip of your water.

“Because you asked me to.”

There was a pause. “I’ve been asleep though. Why’d I ask you?”

Scaramouche grinned like a little boy. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because you love me?”

You shoved your tray off of your lap and crossed your arms. “You are so not my type.”

Scaramouche laughed. “Bet I can change that.”

That evening you had another hydrotherapy session. This time, you weren’t going to fall asleep. It was the same as before; Tartaglia held pools of water over your ears and temples. After having the soothing water wash over you, it was as if you had melted into another existence. Your mind was free of thought, your body light and numb. You didn’t exist, and you weren’t anywhere.

Then a familiar voice brought you something to focus on. “Are you awake?” Your Lieutenant jokes.

You smile. “Yes, I’m awake.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you simple questions. You should know the answers to these.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m serious, please answer truthfully and to the best of your knowledge.” There was a pause as he wiggled his fingers, shifting the water in ways that you were sure had meaning. “What is your name?”

“[Y/N],” you say simply.

“Good! Who is your captain?”

“Captain Scaramouche,” you reply.

“Excellent! And who do we work for?”

“The Tsaritsa.”

“Good job. I’m going to ask you more subjective questions, you ready?”

You feel your mind beginning to fizz, like a glass of soda. You fight it, and nod. “I’m ready.”

“If you feel any pain, or are shocked by forgotten trauma, we can stop. Just say the word “starconch,” and I will cease the therapy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tartaglia sucked in a deep, nervous breath. “When you think of the Tsaritsa, what comes to mind?”

“Um…I think of her kindness. She’s so understanding and she accommodates my wishes.”

“If you didn’t work for her, what do you imagine you’d be doing?”

Your face contorts in thought. “Hopefully…living a peaceful, mundane life. Working everyday, being with the one I love everyday, for example.”

“Let’s say you live this life. Who is the person you’re living with?”

“I…don’t know. We’ve been together for two years now but I don’t know who it is.”

“Can you describe him?”

You cock your head to the side. “How did you know it was a man?”

“Nevermind,” he cuts off, not wanting to potentially ruin your memories with his incorrect words. “Next question. Do you enjoy being a medic?”

“It’s never fun to see my teammates get hurt. But I have confidence that I’d never let anyone die.”

Tartaglia hummed above you, and smiled. He admired your confidence and your ability to be strong and courageous when you needed to. “Is it hard being a medic?”

You smiled, and laughed a little. “Nothing is hard when you know what you’re doing,” you chided. “I think fighting is hard, but you do it wonderfully everyday.”

He observed you carefully, a thin veil of darkness washing over his face. “If someone taught you how to fight, would you?” The question was a little more self indulgent, hoping that if he could teach you, you wouldn’t get hurt like this again.

“No, because the man I love protects me just fine.”

You were right. The person that you loved was like a guard dog of sorts. If someone so much as had an ugly scowl on their face as they’re coming toward you, he’s there to step right in between. He was always there, always reliable. But the one time he wasn’t, you nearly met your fate by the time they got you back to camp.

Tartaglia shifted. “Is there anything you know about the man you’re with?”

“He’s handsome,” you sang, a little teasingly. “And he’s so intelligent. And he’s sweet to me, and he’s silly at times, and when we fight we have bad fights. Yelling at each other, saying awful things…but he’s so quick to apologize and do things to make me forgive him.” Tartaglia watched as you went on and on, feeling bad that you had all these things to say about him but he didn’t have a face or name. Just the feeling of love and happiness for a mystery man. “And he’s always there for me. I try to be there for him, but when I do I mess things up. Like right now, I’m only hurt because I—” You sat up suddenly, disrupting the therapy and turning to look at Tartaglia. “I was saving him,” you say with wide eyes, as if he didn’t know that. “I…only threw myself into the battle to save him. That means…it’s one of the guys here right?”

Tartaglia raised his brow and shrugged his shoulders. He wished he wasn’t a good person, because he would’ve taken this opportunity to tell you he was your boyfriend. “I’d tell you but that would ruin the fun!”

You glared, your brain feeling a little strange still from the session. You stared down at your chest wrapped in bandages. This was your love. You placed your hand over your heart to steady your heart rate. “Better me than him.”

Tartaglia disagreed.

#writing #part three: amnesia #Scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

[zodiyack]

Voice

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD mention, I think that’s it

Words: 1,797

Summary: Tommy wants to spend the rest of his life with Y/n. A peculiar little thing about life is that you never stop learning, and Tommy learns a thing or two, letting Y/n learn more about him in return...or is it him who learns from her?

Note: I suck at words, Tommy Shelby edition. And I couldn’t come up with a summary or title for this so know that if they don’t make sense together (or the story at all)...I know.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @stydia-4-ever​, @stuckysslag​, @marquelapage​, @i-love-superhero​, @psychkunox​, @tommyxshelby​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The morning he met her was the first morning of many that his genuinely eyes opened since the war. Trauma had changed his life for what he thought was a permanent turn for the worst, but upon meeting her, it seemed that heaven was within his grasp once more. Impossible, he thought at first. Yet, later, when he put more thought into it, perhaps his redemption was actually there.

So the next time he saw her, he took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was no longer a boy, and went for it. Alas, his confidence joined him under the definition of cowardice in the very least second; she titled her head, innocent eyes sparkling with curiosity as she awaited whatever he had to say. But no words left his lips. She snatched them away with something even Thomas didn’t know of.

“Are you alright?” She asked, the concern in her voice lifting his spirits high as a warm feeling entered his body. It was the first time in what felt like centuries that a feeling as happy as that coursed through him.

It was also the first time that he was left without words. He tried, opening his mouth as if it were as easy as that to get the things he needed to say out, but he was still without anything but air.

“Sir?” Her brows furrowed. He couldn’t tell whether she was getting annoyed, scared, or just overly frightened for him, but he closed his mouth and reminded himself to breathe. Do not forget to breathe.

Was he sure he was a man? Or was he a boy once again? The same boy before the war who would blush and flirt teasingly, who held so much joy that his cheeks hurt.

And then it happened.

A smile grew upon his lips and he nodded.

A chuckle of relief left her mouth and she lifted her hand to her chest, resting it over her heart. “Oh thank fucking god- I admit, I was rather worried there. For both you and I!” She averted her eyes for a split second before redirecting them to his. “If you aren’t in any trouble... Is there anything I can help you with?”

The words were still lodged in his throat. So he did the only thing he could think of and sheepishly shook his head, turned, and left.

More interactions occurred between the two until one day, when she showed up at his office in search of a job. Lizzie knocked at his door, announcing that he had an appointment.

“Send ‘em in.” He replied lightly, not even lifting his eyes from the paper in front of him. Lizzie took a second, waiting for the moment that would never come- the one where he took a second away from work to actually look people in the face, but gave in with a sigh and closed the door.

“Go on in, hon.” She nodded her head to the door, returning to the typewriter and resuming her work.

It was silent aside from Lizzie’s typing. The click clacking of the keys, letters stamping the ink onto the paper, the quickness of her fingers at work. Y/n got lost in it momentarily before the noise suddenly ceased. Lizzie lifted her head, a brow quirked as she stared and waited for Y/n to enter Thomas’ office.

“Finally. Ahem, I suppose you’re here for...” Tommy started when the door squeaked open again but trailed off when he finally lifted his head. He couldn’t blink away the surprise, not this time. She truly caught him off guard.

And, apparently, him her.

“So he speaks? ...Ah- my apologies! Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’m here for a job...and, not on the topic of occupation, I would like to mention that you have a lovely voice. I think I’d enjoy hearing it more often.”

She definitely heard more of it.

Tommy gave her the job, and with it, a relationship. At first they were strictly boss and employee, but soon, it sparked into something more. Friendship. Good friendship. Close Friendship. 

Then ...Romance.

The day came where Tommy learned a lesson or two about love from someone he deeply admired and respected. Someone close, someone he loved but not in the way he did Y/n. Polly Gray payed her nephew a visit and taught him the thing he dreaded but knew he’d have to face eventually.

“If you want her to some day be your wife, then you have to let her in!” She’d taken a liking to Y/n as well. After all, she was technically Y/n’s boss as well, so she met the woman and didn’t hesitate in accepting their relationship. “She knows what you let her about this business, but one day she’ll either want to know more or find out on her own accord.”

Pol wasn’t just talking about business. She meant honesty in every way he could describe it. The depressive sides he hid from even his family, his brothers whom suffered the same aside, and so much more the world had yet to see. He could either hide it or show her, but one day it would come into the light.

It was true, and unpleasantly so. The downside to being part of the Peaky Blinders was one that came with life in general; Love wasn’t easy. If he wanted, he could just force Y/n out of the country, forget about her, and move on. She’d be safe and he’d be happy knowing she was, but deep down, he was too much of a coward to do something like that. Too afraid of what could happen to her, to her feelings, to his own...

So Tommy listened and grew a metaphorical pair. The night he planned on opening up to her, an uneasy feeling nagged at his gut. This was his one shot. His shot at being with the love of his life, creating a family and knowing what it feels like to be loved by someone, and not in a platonic way. He held onto the feeling she gave him and used it to power his courage.

“Are you alright, Tommy?” Her gentle hand that previously combed through his hair came into contact with his jaw. Not harsh, but gentle. Softly guiding his head, she forced his bright blue orbs to meet hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Her hand moved up slightly to caress his cheek. Thomas leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He truly felt youth envelope him whenever he was with her. His demons faded as if they never existed in the first place every time her presence was with his.

Then, he lifted his hand to meet her wrist. He took the other with the same grip and opened his eyes, looking into her with the same admiration she had only mere minutes ago. “I know.”

“Then tell me...what’s bothering you?”

Tommy thought for a second, but just as the first time he tried to form words, his cowardliness came a ’nocking on his door. “It’s nothing, love. How ‘bout we sleep, yeah?”

Y/n hesitated but nodded, curling into his side and drifting off slowly. It took him a bit longer, but by midnight, the two were out cold. Of course, he never stayed asleep long. She didn’t know that, however. Tommy never let her stay the night until tonight, afraid of what she would think of his softer, more fearful side when he was too overwhelmed to hide it.

He awoke with a start, chest heaving heavily and breath so terribly uneven, one would think he were on the brink of death. That’s what he felt like. As though he were on the smallest ledge, seconds away from cracking down the part of which connected him too the land full of life and dropping him into the deepest pits of hell itself. Tommy’s nightmare woke Y/n too.

She was drowning in concern the second her eyes snapped open. “Tommy- Tommy!” He couldn’t help but panic, the PTSD too much for him, “Hey- hey, I’m here. Okay? It’s me.” she didn’t blame him. Instead, she gripped his wrists like he did hers and softly ushered him back into his calm state. Her whispers were reassuring and brought him back to reality, soothing his mind with powers similar to a siren’s.

“Y/n- I’m sorry-” He spoke hurriedly after she lit a candle- it provided them with enough light to see one another, not that the moon didn’t already do that enough.

“Don’t be. From the looks of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She didn’t sound tired, not even a blink of sleep left in her eyes nor voice. “Tommy... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy was a little taken aback by her lack of fear or other emotions like disgust, although he couldn’t quite think of a single reason as to why she’d feel that of all things, but answered her as honestly as he could. Just like Polly told him too. “I’m not sure... I was...cowardly. Though you’d be ashamed or something.”

She squinted at him, “Why on earth would I feel ashamed?”

A few seconds went by of his eyes darting around as he mentally searched for a possible answer and he came up blank. Thomas shrugged, “Fuck... I don’t even fucking know.”

They shared a chuckle, hushed but still very much real. Y/n caressed his cheeks again, tracing his beautifully sculpted features with gentle fingers.

“I love,” her eyes scanned his face lovingly, “every part of you. Whether you like a detail about you or not, I will love it with every fiber of my being. The good, the bad...the mildly confusing,” he chuckled with her, “I love it.”

Y/n pulled away from him and leaned him. She blew out the candle then readjusted her position under the sheets, squirming into Tommy’s side and resting her head atop his chest. It rose and fell with each breath he took, his torso lifting her head and dropping it as carefully as one would rock a baby.

“I’m here now, and I’m here to stay. We can either stay awake or, you can lie down with me and get through this shit together. Either way, I’m not letting you face anything else alone.”

“Y/n-” He was going to tell her that it was fine, shove another lie to hide his worries despite inevitable discovery.

“I mean it, Thomas. For as long as I live, you will never have to carry your struggles by your lonesome. So, in the morning, you can tell me what I’m gonna be helping you with.” She paused before cracking a smile. “After all, you know how much I love your voice.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #zodiyack #reader insert #imagine #tommy shelby imagine #all readers #cillian murphy imagine #this is so confusing so i can't blame you if you think that as well #writing at midnight after taking meds may not have great outcomes #but i haven't posted in five does so i say fuck it

[wowtobio]

pls feed me with ur incredible writing. Iwa angst bc I haven't cried in a while lol.

Cheater! Iwaizumi x reader (angst)

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a/n: haha this made me laugh, ur too kind my writing is not that good so i cannot guarantee tears

It’s been awhile since I wrote my guy iwa and angst, hopefully this doesn’t turn out too bad eheh this is also sort of like an 800 followers special. Thank you all so much for following and reading my works, i cannot express it any other way :)

warning: angst, cursing, slight mentions

Part 1 | Part 2

You expected this to happen, as hard as it is to swallow the bitter truth that threatened to burn down your whole marriage. This man, what happened? The time he would sacrifice in order to spend just some time with you, only now consumed by his company forcing him to work overtime presumably. The words he spoke to you, full of meaning were now void of emotion and as cold and sharp as icicles hanging from the rooftop edge during winter nights. The love and adoration his eyes used to hold catered only for you.

Where did it go?  

Suddenly, the golden band adorned with emerald jewels did not shine as brightly as it used too. Though you kept yours on, it seems his own band was often absent. But you bit your lip, afraid to voice out queries that could end up in another pointless argument. 

The door shut hard, yet you do not jump from your seat like you used too. Keeping your blank eyes forward staring at the static of the television. No words, no welcomes were heard. 

The calming night breeze coming from an open window only served to add more coldness in the living room.

Recently, all the nagging you did would not serve you both justice. You were only worried for your husband, why did it seem like all he did was yell at you? A simple question concerning what was for dinner would always end up in heated words. 

“You can eat alone.” 

“But, I just wanted to eat dinner with you, I waited so lo-”

“And why should I care? Just leave me be I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”

But, you always seem like you don’t want to deal with me..

Soon, it all ceased to exist. Any conversation or fight in this matter, it all scurried away as fear of more spiteful words would dig deep into your chest and sting greatly. 

But tonight was different, you just missed him so much.

Standing slowly, you trudge behind him wordlessly wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face into his broad back. He stands frozen, you wish you could see his facial expression. Iwaizumi’s gaze is casted down at the arms enveloping him.

You guessed your arms were pretty skinny now, when was the last time you even had a proper meal? 

You tried to ignore the feminine, floral fragrance that lingered on his button up, a scent you know for sure you did not use. 

Minutes passed, what felt like hours. After Iwaizumi snapped out of his state, he easily shrugged you off and continued to your once shared bedroom. And all you could do was hold out your now empty arms and stare at his receding form.

No tears shed, you ran out of them awhile ago. However, that familiar aching pain still stirred deep within your gut.

Another night on the couch it seems.

When was the last time you were happy? Your friends voice concern for your well-being, the sparkle in your eyes now dulled to a mere dull light. Eventually you stopped hearing their distressed voices when you started to decline their offers of going out.

There was no point in forcing yourself to go anywhere anymore. It was more convenient to mask yourself as to not cause anymore worry.

But, this one night you decided to go out. Maybe it was to escape the realms that reminded you of your dying relationship. You texted Iwaizumi, it’s been awhile since you clicked on his contact. And of course, no response. Probably didn’t even glance at the notification. 

Whatever, you gulped down another shot, your step wobbled slightly. Things did not change, your friends held the same hidden worries for you. 

Was it a coincidence that his best friend was there? I mean he was quite the party animal nowadays. His casual, flirty tone ignored by you. Until you voiced heading home early, not wanting to keep your husband waiting. Oikawa’s eyes darkened, he knew something you didn’t. 

And that something was met with you when you quietly open the door to your shared apartment. The thumping of your heart was probably louder than the one heard from your shared bed. 

Suddenly, your surroundings were starting to blur in your vision. Was it the alcohol? Or have you finally lost it?

Hands shaking, you grasp the golden doorknob. Nothing to lose now, as you swung open the only barrier hiding the ugly truth. A shriek, a barely audible gasp and a sob. 

He didn’t even react, he didn’t scramble the way that busty bitch did when she made futile attempts to pick up her clothing and leave. He didn’t even look at your trembling form. 

After the woman hastily left your apartment, taking your dignity along with her. All you could do is silently stand there, hot tears streaming down your pale complexion. Hajime’s eyes, as always casted down at the sheets he committed great sin in. 

You make eye contact with him one last time. It was only a second, yet you saw it all. All the lies he hid, the hatred he held for you. He hid it so well, and you were a fool to not notice how obvious it was.

No more, you ran out of the apartment in the same fashion that woman he indulged with did. 

Days passed. Weeks as well. No apologies, no contact, no moments of crossings, nothing. This is what your marriage has come too. Months of drowning in tears and alcohol.  

The feeling of worthlessness, ugliness, everything negative consumed your being during this dark time. Your phone untouched, flooded with texts and calls from friends and family. But you didn't have the energy to respond back with empty lies. It didn’t matter, out all of those messages his name never popped up. 

How could he do this to you? How could he love you to the point of marriage only to ignore you til the downfall? How could he steal everything away from you like this? Your first kiss, your first time, your hand in marriage. And to just take that all away and leave you with absolutely nothing but heartache and painful thoughts. 

You pondered this, who knows how long you will continue too. And as you scroll down your social media feed for the first time in awhile, Oikawa’s constant post flooded your timeline, one particular caught your eye. A candid selfie of the pretty setter, your ex-husband and a girl clad in a white sundress and sun hat. The girl had perfect wavy, long brown hair that complimented her hazelnut eyes. A body of a goddess and a beautiful smile. Her delicate and dainty arms wrapped around the bicep of your ex-lover. 

Hajime’s face was caught off guard, yet overall he did not seem the least bit effected by the events that happened just months ago. 

It broke you, why was he happier now without you? Though he left you all alone to wallow in your own sadness and selfishness. 

You did not get it, and you never will. As you sobbed deeply into your arms on that cold night, the stars shone brightly into the room barely enveloping your quivering body, all you could ask yourself is where did it all go wrong?

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a/n: idk abt y’all but i think the most painful heartbreak is watching someone fall out of love with u. but once again thank you for reading my blogs you guys :’) i seriously cannot thank you enough 

masterlist

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader

[grandorderconfessions]

Do you think this blog should still exist

the quick answer:

the statement has always been 'as long as people send in confessions, we'll try and run it' since that's still the case, sure

the long answer:

this is specifically mod pollux here so take this with my grain of salts, not mod lolly's, but i've been running this blog since august 2018, so almost 3 years now. so congrats on our third anniversary! in all honesty when we had the porn ban in december of that year, i was fully expecting for tumblr, and in turn - this blog to die with it. but, like the annoying parasite clinging onto a dying animal, it's remained alive, and has become a welcome respite (especially with how dumb fate twitter can be sometimes).

and even with the so-called 'death' of tumblr, this blog still does very well, you all still send in over 300 confessions, and you guys still support and appreciate the posts. so in that sense, there is this feeling of like, well, people still want the blog - thereby, it should exist.

in a similar sense, too, you have the point that if we were to suddenly close down, in all honesty some other blog would probably pick up and fill the void. if we're being fully honest, there's some confessions blogs for fate even that do much more creative things than us with the confessions, and they're really fun and a delight! it's really fun to see what our colleagues are up to.

myself in particular, i tend to try and look at the criticisms our own blog gets. i try not to take it too too seriously, of course, since some criticisms are like,, oh it's not open enough/should post more etcetera, but for the more serious ones, i try to think of possible ways to combat some of those criticisms.

one of the big ones we see is based on the high volume of criticism confessions. since we make them in order, if one person submits a whole bunch of criticisms, they can feel like a lot in a row. we try our best to spread them out as much as possible, but when fgo does a rather,,, controversial thing, then we can get a lot in one batch.

the best answer would be to do like we have done before and simply not accept criticism confessions, but that's a bit difficult because what is criticism? it's difficult to tell based off tone. so we'll see.

i've also seen talks about how certain confessions we've made push a certain harmful agenda. i would like to say, for the both of us, that if we have made a confession that pushes something harmful - be that a racist, pedophilic, misogynist, homophobic or transphobic agenda - please know that it has been 100% unintentional, and we deeply apologize for any pain that has come from it.

with regards to changing that, again it likely would stem from ceasing criticism confessions. once more - we apologize if that's the case.

those are the big two i wanna touch on in particular, and i would love to hear your opinions on it!

again, thank you guys so much for the support.

#not a confession #wow this one is a little serious huh!

[hklunethewriter]

But seriously, why do I never hear about Irene Iddesleigh around the Internet? It’s practically The Room of late Victorian literature! I have to tell y'all about this book. See here:

Got published because Amanda McKittrick Ros’s (the author’s) doting husband paid for it, but not for the “I want to have more control over publication/don’t need the traditional system” reasons—no, she simply thought her writing was too amazing for that

Mark Twain called it “one of the greatest unintentionally humorous novels of our time”

C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien would deadass have reading parties where whoever could go the longest without laughing won

“Hope is like a shimmering oaken ship on the turbulent seas of discord, fear, and impertinence, cast by the hollow winds of despair. The sun’s rays of goodness and victory tumble down from the heavens, but lo! The clouds of uncertainty beat them back as though"—ALMOST EVERY PARAGRAPH IS LIKE THIS. Metaphors and similes and alliterations and melodrama is the entire book.

a humorist from that era named Barry Pain (lmao) called it the book of the century. At first he found it funny, but then apparently he “shrank before it in tears and terror”

When Ros read what Pain said, she called him a “clay crab of corruption” and then claimed he did it because he was secretly in love with her (my gosh. her mind)

And for all that, it’s not even just the outrageously

🌌 purple prose 🌌

that’s the whole issue here. The plot is basically just

Act I: I’m going to willingly marry a man I hate, and I hate him because he isn’t my secret lover >:(

Act II: I hate him even more each day but we have a kid, oh and I’m having an emotional affair with my secret lover

Act III: husband discovers affair and locked me in a “cursed” room for a year (Charlotte Brontë is literally shaking) but I escape to America with my lover. Huh? I have a child? Never heard of him

Act IV: I somehow legally marry my lover in America and will live there the next fifteen years, but whoops! Suddenly he’s super bad with money and also a drunk and abuser and hits me and then dies by suicide

Act V: I go back to England. Nobody recognizes me even though I’m, like, 35, but they all hate my guts and love my dead husband. My son got the whole story from his dad and hates me the most. I’m sad. I walk to a cottage my lover used to use and literally drop dead. The end

So if you’re looking for something ridiculous to read and be entertained by, I can heartily recommend Irene Iddesleigh. It’s about 100 pages, so it isn’t a slog (somehow)—I read it in an afternoon. You can read it storybook style here or find it over at Project Gutenberg. It’s what Tolkien and Lewis would want.

In case you aren’t convinced yet, though, allow me to show you.

Until now he was inclined to be prejudiced against the snares and allurements of women, but he strongly resolved to try gradually and abandon every unkind thought harboured in his mind against them, fearing lest all his conjured imaginations were both unjust and selfish; and determined to drown them for ever in the clashing gulf of fate, felt a prouder and happier mortal than before.

But time would solve the problem and heal the wound which penetrated so deeply his bosom. Yea, a short time he hoped would bring his creeping fever of endearment under the binding stay of appointed authority, and heal its weakening effects with the sacred salve of truth.

Aka “my long-worn misogyny has just been reversed by a pretty woman”

Great

Chapter IV: When on the eve of glory, whilst brooding over the prospects of a bright and happy future, whilst meditating upon the risky right of justice, there we remain, wanderers on the cloudy surface of mental woe, disappointment and danger, inhabitants of the grim sphere of anticipated imagery, partakers of the poisonous dregs of concocted injustice. Yet such is life.

Chapter VIII: A word of warning tends to great advantage when issued reverently from the lips of the estimable. It serves to allay the danger pending on reticence, and substantiates in a measure the confidence which has hitherto existed between the parties concerned. Again, a judicious advice, extended to the stubborn and self-willed, proves futile, and incurs the further malice and fiery indignation of the regardless, the reckless, and the uncharitable.

Chapter XIII: It is astounding to view the smallest article through a magnifying glass; how large and lustrous an atom of silver appears; how fat and fair the withered finger seems; how monstrously mighty an orange; how immeasurably great the football of youth; but these are as nought when the naked eye beholds the boulder of barred strength—a mountain of mystery.

Every chapter has a paragraph like this. I won’t spoil them for you.

Such is life.

“My dearest and much beloved, I assure you your remarks have astounded me not a little! Your words sting like a wasp, though, I am quite convinced, unintentionally. You are well aware that within a short period I will be marked  out publicly as mistress of Dunfern mansion—an honour revered in every respect by me; an honour to which I at one time dare never aspire; an honour coveted by many much more worthy than I, whose parentage is as yet bathed in the ocean of oblivious ostentation, until some future day, when I trust it shall stand out boldly upon the brink of disclosure to dry its saturated form and watery wear with the heat of equality. You are about to place me in a position which cannot fail to wring from jealousy and covetousness their flaming torch of abuse. Yes, Sir John, on me you have not ceased to lavish every available treasure and token of your unbounded love. You have been  to me not only a loyal admirer, but a thoroughly upright and estimable example of life’s purest treasures. You have resolved to place me by your side as your equal, whilst wealth in boundless store is thirsting for your touch. You have elevated my unknown position to such a pitch as to defy taunt or jeer, and at any time if I may have, seemingly, ignored your advances, it was purely want of thought, and not through any underhand motive or scheme whatever.

“I assure you your allusion to my verbal answer last night is very pronounced, and may be overlooked on the ground of pure disappointment. Our time of singleness  is now short, and begging your forgiveness for my seeming neglect or indifference, I hope the tide, which until now has flown so gently, may not be stayed on the eve of entering the harbour of harmony, peace, and love.”

At the commencement of Irene’s answer of lavishing praises and flimsy apologies, her affianced moved to the opposite corner of the rustic building to scan the features of her he wholly worshipped and reluctantly doubted. Every sentence the able and beautiful girl uttered caused Sir John to shift his apparently uncomfortable person nearer and nearer, watching at the same time minutely the divine picture  of innocence, until at last, when her reply was ended, he found himself, altogether unconsciously, clasping her to his bosom, whilst the ruby rims which so recently proclaimed accusations and innocence met with unearthly sweetness, chasing every fault over the hills of doubt, until hidden in the hollow of immediate hate.

Ros is so close to being self-aware at the start of the last paragraph here, but then it’s lost in the same circular language found throughout. Ah, well.

#reading #books #Irene Iddesleigh #booklr #bookblr

[damienthepious]

happy lizzer kiss babes! also, as mentioned in the notes of this one, lil heads up that i’m gonna be taking a little break from posting fic in november! and by “little break” i mean i’ll be writing 50k of a novel lmao what a good “break” i am so terribly smart. anyway love you!

A Moment As An Optimist

[ao3] [Ch 2]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love , (alas.......), miscommunication followed quickly by communication

Summary: It is one of Damien's favorite events of the entire year, all revelry and romance and joy, and he cannot wait to share it with his lovers. Or- with one of them, at least.

Notes: Title from the song Heart of a Pessimist, by Be Steadwell, a song which also p well vibes with the fic as a whole. Also, just to... get out ahead of this a little, but I'm gonna be taking a break from fanfic for the month of November so I can properly do NaNoWriMo again this year! Which is exciting! But it also means that I'm gonna publish fic on tuesdays for the rest of October, and then November is gonna be radio silence from my end, on here at least. You can come hmu on tumblr @jakkubrat if you wanna see me just, shrieking at the void about writing in general, but I doubt any of y'all are interested in that. Anyway I love you. Hope you like this one! I intend to get the second chapter out before my little hiatus :3c

~

"And then," Damien says, gesturing wildly with his hands, "after the sparring demonstrations and the feast, the square is cleared and the musicians take their place of honor. They will play, and play, and play the whole rest of the evening. Songs quick and full of giddy joy, songs steeped with contemplation and longing and love, all manner of melodies in the in-between, and they will not cease playing- not until the very last of us has grown too fatigued for further footwork. Only when the very last of the revelers has succumbed to exhaustion, only then will the music finally fade into the more natural song of the night."

Damien sighs deeply, then, his hand pressing over his heart as he fixes his eyes on the middle distance.

"I'll admit the dancing is pretty fun, at least," Rilla says with a shrug, her own tone much more casual. "Food's not too bad either."

"Pretty fun!" Damien cries, his eyes sparking with excitement. "Oh, damning with such faint praise, my love! It is quite reliably among the most enjoyable events of the year! Why- oh, I could not possibly forget the year when you and I danced clear through until the dawn, and when finally we relented we were so terribly exhausted that we barely clung to each other long enough to stumble to the closest inn to properly collapse- a battle more draining that my greatest conquests, and still I do not think there has been a day I have laughed quite so heartily, nor been so blessed with your own laughter and love! Oh, Rilla, perhaps this year they will play that one particular song- that one with those quick triplets, the one that played just as they lit the lanterns last year, oh, and Arum! When the drums begin, then we could-"

He pauses.

"We- y-you and I could- could-"

Damien notices, quite suddenly, the low growl emanating from his lizard love. He notices the wince upon Rilla's face, as well.

Damien swallows, pulling his hand back to press over his heart as it sinks, and sinks, and sinks.

"We could... what?" Arum murmurs, slow and measured and vicious. "What, precisely, could we do at your festival, honeysuckle?"

"I-" Damien's breath catches. "I... I only..." he buries the hitch in his throat in a slight cough. "I... I managed to get quite ahead of myself, I'm afraid," he says in a muted voice. "So excited was I to share such joy... I did not even think."

"You certainly did not," Arum hisses. "How little prompting you require to forget, hm? To forget entirely that I am a monster."

"No," Damien says quickly, shaking his head. "I- I did not forget- how could I possibly? Arum-"

"Or to forget me entirely, perhaps-"

"I did not forget you," Damien says. "I forgot them. I forgot- I forgot every single thing in the world, besides you, and Rilla, and I, and... and the idea of spending a whole long evening with you both, dancing in the lamplight."

"I imagine the evening would be rather short, in fact. Hardly a minute would pass before I was slain."

"That's not fair," Rilla snaps, pushing off from the wall and glaring at the monster, but Damien's heart is still swirling and tumbling and the image- Arum at the festival, dancing at their sides, the cries of alarm and fear and hatred, the blades-

"Very little is," Arum snarls. "I am merely pointing out the obvious. It does not matter what we want- what he wants. That door is not open to us, and to pretend otherwise is foolishness itself."

"You know he wasn't trying to make you feel left out-"

"I-" Arum laughs, bitter and brittle and unconvincing. "I feel no such thing. I do not care. In fact- in fact, I do not have the first clue why we are still discussing it. Should you not be on your way already?" He snarls, and then he folds his arms over his chest, visibly settling himself. "Go on, then," Arum says, his voice flat and toneless, but Damien- Damien can't help but hear the current of pain beneath it. Judging by the way Rilla's expression shifts, just slightly, she can hear it too. "Go on. If this event is so terribly exciting, you should scuttle off to your Citadel and start your revelry already."

"Arum," Damien starts, his voice gentle, and Arum's snout wrinkles.

"I don't need your pity, honeysuckle," he hisses quickly, turning to pace with his cape billowing behind him. "We all know exactly what time we may steal away with each other. We all know what we are allowed, and what we are not." He turns his head away, his lip curling up to show the edges of his teeth. "It hardly matters anyway. I do not expect that any human celebration would be of any interest to me whatsoever. Music is only music and food is only food and I can very well find some of my own anywhere I should like."

"Arum," Rilla says, her voice quiet but firm, and Arum's scowl deepens.

"What? What, precisely, have I gotten wrong? In what way is my understanding of the situation flawed? I have no interest in-"

"I won't go."

Arum blinks, stumbling from his pacing to a halt, and his frill begins to sink as Rilla turns towards Damien again.

Damien shakes his head, feeling the tightness in his throat and attempting not to let it become evident in his voice. "I won't. I- I do not want to. It is only by necessity that I am ever anywhere that you cannot safely accompany. By Saint Damien above why should I ever want to revel and ramble and partake in such a joy if I cannot share it with the both of my loves? Why-"

"Oh, Damien-"

Rilla steps closer, one hand reaching to grip his wrist, and Damien feels the heat at the corners of his eyes and shakes his head again, more fiercely.

"This festival has always and only ever brought me joy, brought me closer to and more familiar with love, with beauty and delight, and- and I could not even consider those concepts for one moment without thinking of you as well, Arum, and- and- and I cannot bear the idea of suffering an event I once loved so dearly without you by our sides. It is unthinkable, I could not- I will not."

Arum stares at him for a long moment, his frill sinking further, his throat rattling.

"I won't," Damien says again, more quietly. "Not without you."

Arum inhales slowly, his expression folding into more visible pain, and he hisses through his teeth and winces before he responds.

"No," he says slowly, his voice low and rumbling. "No, I can't abide-" he pauses, and then sighs, dropping his eyes. "No. I didn't- I did not- I spoke rashly and- no. I didn't mean to- to-" he clenches his teeth again, lifting a hand to scrub down his face. "No. This... this event is... significant to you, honeysuckle. I know that it is not your fault, nor hers, nor mine, that we cannot enjoy it together. It is no one's fault, it is simply the truth. It is simply... the world, as it is. But-" he hesitates, and then he sighs again and steps closer, reaching to brush his hand down Damien's arm.

Damien sags instantly at the contact, immediately closing the remaining gap, folding himself against Arum's chest as Rilla lets go of his wrist, stepping up behind him instead and touching his back with soothing hands.

"But, little honeysuckle, that does not mean you both should not enjoy it regardless. Clearly I should not like to be without you, but I would be much more unhappy if my mere existence kept you from something you so clearly adore."

Damien blinks, and then he lifts his face to frown up at the monster. "But, Arum-"

"This is important to you," he murmurs. "And it is important to me that our arrangement does not prevent you from taking little joys where you can. I apologize for... for snapping at you, in my frustration." He leans down, nudging their foreheads together and sighing. "I am sorry that I allowed my own... that I turned my own pain outward to cause you distress as well. I want you to go. I want you to go, and I want you to enjoy the evening as much as you are able."

Damien makes a small noise, helpless, and then he wraps his arms around the monster and squeezes, hugging him tightly enough that Arum gives a surprised exhale, and then a low soft laugh.

"Oh Arum-"

"I want you to be happy, Damien. I want you both to be happy, even if I cannot be always by your side to be happy with you."

Damien hugs Arum even tighter for a moment, until the monster makes a small breathless noise, and then he loosens his grip enough that he can tilt his head, pressing a kiss to the edge of Arum's jaw, and he cannot help but feel the tears rallying again at the gentle purring noise that rumbles deep in Arum's throat.

"I love you," Damien croons, his lips still touching scales. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we cannot-"

"It is no one's fault," Arum says again, even more gently. "What we have together already, despite the current conflict... what we have together is already something miraculous. We should not be greedy, I think," he grumbles, his voice performatively grumpy, and Damien chokes on a laugh.

"Oh, so greedy of us, wanting to dance together," Rilla grumbles behind him, her hands gentle on his sides, and he's surprised to hear a small note of sourness in her voice.

"Still," Damien says after a moment, soft and sad. "Still. I cannot help my feelings, cannot help how much I wish..."

Arum nuzzles Damien's cheek with his snout, sighing. "I know. Loathe as I am to admit it... clearly I wish, as well. We knew this would be... complicated when we began together. This is simply something we must swallow, for the moment. Perhaps, someday, we will not need to."

"I do not want to leave you here alone while Rilla and I-"

"I will be fine, honeysuckle," Arum says, shifting back enough that he can lift a hand to brush Damien's hair from his forehead. "I promise. To begin with, I am not alone, so to speak. I am never alone within my Keep."

"You know that isn't what he meant," Rilla says, and Arum rolls his eyes.

"Obviously. But I meant only to assure him that I will not be curled into a ball and wallowing. I will have company, should I desire it, and I will be fine. I apologize, again, for speaking cruelly to you. I've... gotten it out of my system, as Amaryllis is fond of saying," he says with a light sneer, and Damien can see him burying a grin as Rilla raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I will not be too terribly bothered by anything but the lack of your warmth. It is only one evening, after all."

"Well... I suppose, if- if you are certain-"

"I am certain, honeysuckle." He nudges his snout against Damien's temple, then, a sweet echo of a kiss, and then he steps back, squeezing Damien's hands before he drops them. "You should go. I will be dearly disappointed if I have managed to entirely ruin this evening for you."

Damien frowns, his stomach still twisting with uncertainty, with how wrong it feels to leave in such a way. "But-"

"He said he'd be fine, Damien," Rilla says, and her shrug is exactly as casual as her words, but when Damien turns towards her to continue to voice his distress, she-

Winks, with the eye that Arum cannot see in their current positions.

"It's just one night. We'll all manage to muddle through for just tonight, and then we'll all do something together later this week. Okay?"

Damien frowns, very lightly, his confusion bubbling, but-

Well. He knows her, knows that particular quirk of her lips, knows the way her eyebrows raise when she silently tells him to trust, to trust her.

He does, of course. He always does.

"I... I suppose..." he murmurs, still confused enough that he cannot think of any better words to say.

"We'll make an appearance, at least. If we aren't enjoying ourselves, there's no reason not to just... slip out early, yeah? And-" she turns to Arum, ducking her head slightly as she lifts a hand to touch his shoulder, smiling when he leans into the contact. "Can we just... come back here later tonight? Just to sleep, or- whatever. You don't have to wait up for us, if you don't want to, but-"

"Of course you may," Arum says quickly, frowning. "Always. You are always welcome and wanted, here." And then, as if to soften the certainty, the enormity of the always he has just offered, he scowls. "And I certainly will not wait up, so you may waste no consideration on that outcome."

Rilla grins, soft and bright and sweet, and Damien knows as well as she does that the monster is lying.

"I love you," Damien says again, because he cannot hold the words inside while they sit scalding at the back of his tongue.

Arum's expression softens, surprise and aching fondness shaping his features, and he steps closer again so he may pull the both of them into his arms.

"I love you as well," the monster murmurs, sighing into their hair. "Now go and have your fun, will you? I expect further tales of glory and exultation when you return."

"Love you too," Rilla says with a snorting laugh, rolling her eyes as she pushes his scaled arms away, but Damien's heart still aches.

"I..." he trails off, uncertain, and he clings to one of Arum's hands for another moment.

"Please," Arum says softly. "Enjoy the evening for me, if you cannot enjoy it with me. I will still be here, when you tire of the lamplight."

"Alright," Damien says slowly, and then he kisses the back of Arum's hand before he releases it. "Until tomorrow, then, Lord Arum."

When the Keep opens a portal for them back to Rilla's hut, Damien does his best not to allow his eyes to linger on his lily for too terribly long. Rilla takes him by the hand, thankfully, and her unruffled feathers soothe Damien's own jagged edges as the portal closes again behind them.

When they are alone, Damien sighs, but he rallies his nerves in only a moment, and he raises an eyebrow as Rilla's grin goes toothy and wild.

"Alright. Alright, my flower. May I know, now, precisely what you have planned for our love?"

"Okay," Rilla says, her voice nearly trembling with her sly delight, "so, tell me if you like this idea-"

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #a moment as an optimist #feed me comments i am famished

[nancywheelxr]

i know half the fandom is writing these but could you write something about aziraphale and crowley the night after the almost apocalypse? maybe they go back to crowley's flat together? i just need more content and your writing is always perfect

Ooh, anon, I love this, everyone’s take on the missing scene is so valid, but I’m so glad to try my hand on it! Thank you so much, and I hope you love this one too!

*

The bus ride back to London is quiet and ordinarily uneventful; as if the World itself had exhaled deeply and retreated early after being forcefully faced with imminent destruction and escaping only very narrowly.

That sort of thing really does take a toll on you, Crowley thinks.

It also takes a few more minutes than necessary wandering the streets of London; first towards Aziraphale’s bookshop before Crowley remembers it burned down, then a couple contradicting turns around downtown before Crowley realizes Aziraphale is also doing the persuading but seems to have no idea where Crowley’s flat is or how to go about it on wheels.

Finally, the bus does what it always does when faced with confused passengers that don’t quite know what to do with themselves– it takes them to the nearest hotel, leaving shortly after with half a dozen people still inside wondering why on earth they detoured so.

“Room?” Crowley asks the receptionist hopefully, and she gives them a key without asking for any personal information. She forgets why Room 308 is booked seconds after they slip past her desk.

The silence hangs on steady during the elevator ride; it does try to play its usual cheerful elevator song, but Aziraphale huffs once, reproachfully, and it ceases and desists, properly remorseful, taking them straight to their floor.

It’s only when he’s finally inside the room, staring blankly at the bed and the quaint wallpaper and the tacky curtains that it hits Crowley.

Armageddon came and went, and yet they’re still here.

Freedom is a tangy taste on the tip of his tongue, intoxicating as a good wine, and Crowley feels drunk enough as it is.

“D’you reckon they’ll look for us here?” He says, sitting down heavily in what he refuses to think as his side of the bed. The blankets are a bit rough and a ghastly green color, but Crowley has just seen Satan get told off by an eleven-year-old, so he supposes his worldview can shift enough to allow for a bit of ugly in it.

“No, we bought ourselves a small reprieve, I believe,” Aziraphale answers absently, in that soft voice of his that shouldn’t travel so well in the space between them but does. He stays there, standing by the small desk as if considering the merits of remodeling the whole thing. “For all that it’s worth,” he adds even quieter.

Aziraphale looks tired, unbearably so, and it’s ridiculous how much Crowley wants to reach for him.

It occurs to him then, suddenly and striking, that there’s no reason not to, not from now on; however long that lasts.

“It’s worth enough,” he decides. Somewhere inside his chest, an unnamed emotion unfurls– well, not unnamed so much as ignored, stomped on, and hid snugly between his ribs where he daren’t look. Now, it flutters, and Crowley doesn’t have to breathe but his lungs still ache terribly. “Come on, angel.”

He leaves the invitation intentionally open-ended, lets Aziraphale choose how to interpret it. In his experience, all six thousand years of it, it’s best to let the angel be at his own pace; Crowley may prod and push, but ultimately it’s always Aziraphale that sets the tempo to their dance.

And it would be so easy– he sees the possibilities playing out in Aziraphale’s eyes, laid bare by their shared exhaustion and bubbling nerves from nearly dying mere hours ago.

Aziraphale smiles, a small and quiet thing that illuminates the room. Ineffable, indeed.

It’s a good thing Crowley still has his sunglasses on.

“Should’ve asked for a bigger bed,” is his only comment before taking off his suit jacket, leaving it meticulously folded over a chair. Crowley twitches, coiled tight on his skin, feeling drowsy and wide awake at the same time. “Are you planning on sleeping?”

Crowley considers this. He’s tired, exhausted, really, dead on his feet and his body still smells faintly of smoke and grease. “Yes, possibly until the next century if I could,” he says honestly, following suit and discarding of his jacket and shoes. After a minute of deliberation, the sunglasses go as well. “You?”

“I don’t normally indulge– never quite seen the point, truly– but if there ever was an occasion,” Aziraphale trails off, perhaps realizing there was no need for an apology here, or even an explanation. It had been a simple question, yes or no, and the answer is, perhaps, both a given and not at all, like many things regarding them are. “I do believe a couple hours of rest would do us well.”

The mattress dips, creaking as Aziraphale gets under the ratty covers, and Crowley sighs– the full-body kind, the we nearly died for good and where do we go from here? kind. You see, it’s a very heavy sigh. “I’m assuming we’ll figure out things in the morning, then,” he reminds him, thinking of the displeased, angry snarl in Beelzebub’s face and the incredulous one in Gabriel’s. They’ll be coming for them soon, that’s a given. “Regarding the whole implied doom situation.”

“Yes, yes, my dear,” Aziraphale says, almost shushing him, the bastard, and Crowley would have things to say about that, capital letters Things, too, if he hadn’t shifted, hand closing over Crowley’s in that tentative sort of way Aziraphale gets whenever he ventures in taking first steps of any kind, and it all gets jumbled in Crowley’s throat. “We’ll sort it out in the morning. Dawn is only a few hours away.”

Crowley sighs again. It’s as heavy as the first but perhaps a little shakier; his plants would lose all respect for him if they ever heard such a forlorn sound coming from his mouth.

They lapse into an easy silence, warm and familiar, lulling them back from the keyed-up state this whole Apocalypse mess had put them in, only broken when Aziraphale suddenly breaks into giggles. “It’s funny, isn’t it? When you think about it, now that it’s all settled.”

“What’s so funny?” He drawls, wary. This level of childlike glee is too similar to the cheap coin trick to be any sort of good.

“You and me,” Aziraphale says simply, like it’s perfectly obvious, “looking after some… some human child! For eleven years! And for absolutely no reason at all!”

Well, when you put it like that, and when Aziraphale is still giggling quietly into the night, Crowley supposes he can’t be blamed for cracking a smile or two, or snorting into his pillow. There are some things that are too infectious to be resisted– some types of bacteria, black mold, invading species in areas without natural predators, and, specifically in Crowley’s case, one very particular angel’s laughter.

“It was awful,” Crowley agrees, grin still infuriatingly in place, and gives up pretending today’s events haven’t shaken up things in the Arrangement and derivations thereof. His arm wraps around the angel, tugging him to his chest, and Aziraphale goes easily, no complain at all, if anything, he snuggles closer because his ultimate goal is clearly to end Crowley for good. “But it could have been worse, all things considered.”

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Aziraphale sounds almost wistful, as if he’s reminiscing a time long past and not the blink of an eye for immortals like them. “Then again, it wouldn’t have been half as bearable if it hadn’t been with you.”

The same viciously unnamed feeling from before swells on Crowley’s chest. It cackles, singsonging its name even though Crowley had refused to hear it the other hundreds of times during those 6000 years. It should not be possible for it to exist at all, not in Crowley and not over Aziraphale, and it should not be so light, and good, and true. See, those are not qualities you usually find in a demon.

Still, it grows.

“Go to sleep, angel,” he says, hoarse and too aware of how far from over this whole ordeal is. How it’s too soon to say to hell with it all and skip along to any sort of hopeful ending, to say anything along the lines they’ve been dancing around since the Beginning. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“Of course, dear boy,” Aziraphale relents with a final huff, relaxing further against Crowley, their hands remaining tangled, but something in his voice is insufferably knowing. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Crowley agrees, and it sounds an awful lot like I love you.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffableboyfriends #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #look an ask #good omens tag #ineffable tag

[yukiwrites]

Corrin, Meeting with Oneself

Thank you so much for the support and the patience, @xpegasusuniverse ! I cried a bit writing this açlsdkmasd I hope you like it!

Summary: After meeting her sister in Askr, Felicia went to tell her Lord Corrin about the miracle. Flora, alive! And serving a female ‘Lord’ Corrin, as well! What wonder! On her side, Flora told her Lady Corrin about what had happened and both Prince and Princess have the same idea: to meet with their other selves.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

_______________________________

Ever since being summoned to Askr, Corrin realized that that world had some very peculiar properties. It felt nothing like any DeepRealm she had visited back in Nohr, neither did it feel like an OutRealm... It had a different kind of atmosphere entirely.

The very air felt as though it was filled with magic, the miniscule, flickering dust moving on its own without the aid of any draft of wind.

Caught up in one such wonderings after an entire day of fighting for Askr, Corrin had returned to Krakenburg castle alongside her maid, Flora. The blue haired woman walked in silence, lost in thought, not at all fussing over Corrin as she usually did.

Noticing the strange kind of peace after returning home in silence, Corrin glanced at her maid: the expression she saw was a somber one. "Flora? What's wrong?"

Still deep in thought, the maid simply took one hand to her chin in thought. "I must return to Felicia and tell her I'll never leave again..." she said more to herself than to her master.

"Huh?" Corrin tilted her head to the side in confusion.

Gasping, Flora raised her head. "Oh! F-forgive me for spacing out like that, my Lady! D-did you need anything?"

The princess narrowed her eyes. "Only for you to tell me what's wrong. You're always so focused on your work I actually kind of missed your nagging!"

"N-nagging? Surely you jest, milady. I'm simply committed to-"

"Yes, yes," Corrin dismissed Flora's excuse. "Now, the answer? Or is it something private you'd rather share with your sister?"

Flora looked down for a beat, her pigtails dangling over her shoulders. "I... suppose milady has the right to now." She mumbled before raising her gaze to her master. "Today, I met another Felicia back in Askr. A Felicia from another world, completely different from this one, yet the same."

Corrin felt the depths of her core freeze, the secret wonderings prickling her chest with fear. "W-what're you talking about, Flora? A-another world?" She tried to dodge the possibility of her innermost guilt flourishing back into her mind. "I know Askr is a strange world and all, but surely-"

Flora's silence and unwavering gaze made Corrin slowly lose her words. "That Felicia came from a world... where I-" she choked, trying not to say the word. "Where I wasn't there with her anymore."

The princess had to clutch her chest in a vain attempt to keep her mended heart from breaking yet again. "D-did..." her voice died, and for a good minute, it stayed mute; her eyes burning. "Did I choose to stay in Hoshido in that world?"

Flora simply looked down, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. She nodded so softly, so briefly, the gesture might as well have been Corrin's imagination.

Another world.

One that she chose to stay with her birth family instead of her found one.

A world where the war ended, but another side remained victorious. Could she have lived with the choice? Could she have accepted herself? How did her other self coped with it?

"She also said-" Flora's whisper broke the silence so suddenly it made the princess flinch. "that she serves a 'Lord' Corrin in her world."

"A world where I'm born as a man... And yet history still set its course towards war and destruction." Corrin's lips trembled. "Is there no safe path? No right way to end the war? Is there even a way for it to not have any war at all?" She spat out the words faster and faster, the deeply locked-away guilt splurting through her lips, overflowing through her eyes. "Will I always be plagued by the deaths of my comrades- of- of my family?"

Panicking with her master's tears, Flora looked around as though trying to find help, her hands fussing around her lady. "M-milady, f-forgive me, I-"

Corrin looked down so as to dry her tears, raising one finger so Flora would shut up. "It's- it's okay, Flora. Thank you for telling me." She took a deep breath, still unwilling to raise her eyes who refused to stop crying. "I... I want to meet this other Corrin, if I can. Do you think you could arrange it for me tomorrow?"

Flora felt her heart grow cold, a cold she wasn't really used to. "M-milady, is that wise? What if the ancient nohrian Doppelganger legend is true-"

"Even if it is, it's a risk I'm willing to take. Could you please arrange it?" Her head still lowered, Corrin used her bangs to cover her eyes, sniffling.

Flora deflated, her body still tense. "O-of course, milady."

Corrin smiled weakly, looking at her maid from behind her hair. "Thank you, Flora."

When Felicia told Corrin about meeting her dead sister in Askr, the Prince truly considered calling for a healer -- it took a lot of explaining and stumbling around words for him to understand what his maid had reported him the day before.

The moment he set his foot in Askr for yet another day of fighting, he saw her with his own two eyes: Flora. 

She looked... so much more at peace with herself. The prince felt his legs grow weak, the living proof of his mistake (was it really a mistake? To choose his own blood related siblings? Oh, how could he ever know!) walking resolutely towards him.

"Oh, there she is, Lord Corrin! See, I told you! And now we can set up that meeting with her Lady Corrin like you wanted!" She pulled her master toward her sister, excitedly. Corrin froze on his steps, his horrified yet desperate expression making Flora herself stop on her tracks.

"So you're Lord Corrin... You two are indeed the same people; even your aura is the same." The maid bowed deeply, "please do not look at me so, my Lord... I'm sure I made the choice I deemed necessary in your world."

"See?! Doesn't she just talk the same?!" Felicia's mind ignored the words for her own sake, simply happy to have her sister back.

Not able to do that, Corrin's eyes glued themselves to the ground, his entire body growing numb. "... She does." He croaked, afraid he would break down there and then.

"My Lady awaits at the gazebo just ahead. I... would escort you, but perhaps you would preffer to be on your own." Flora tiptoed away from the duo, signaling with her chin for Felicia to come to her and leave her lord alone. The pink-haired maid looked from her master to her sister, promply going to where Flora was. "If... you'd excuse us, then."

His heart beat so fast his vision started blurring.

Flora was alive.

In that other world, Flora hadn't killed herself due to his own mistakes.

Who else lived? Was there anyone else who died? Could he have prevented-?

His feet dragged themselves behind him as he tried to go to the garden Floran mentioned, his mind a complete and utter mess.

Another self? A woman? Could she have prevented the war BETTER than he did? She chose to stay with the family who had always been there for him since childhood, whereas he just- he watched them all die!

His bare feet touched the humid grass, making him lift his gaze to the familiar silver hair being blown by the wind. Their equally red eyes met at the same time, and they knew instinctively-

They knew that they both shared the same level of grief, in differing kinds.

They were the same.

They chose a side and regretted it.

Oh, how they regretted it!

Prince and Princess both felt their eyes burning with tears, the woman running up from her seat towards her male self, hugging him with everything she had.

For a very brief moment, during the previous night, she thought how awkward it would be to meet another version of herself. Would she stutter? Would he even understand her, taking into account the different choices they took? Would he spurn her for choosing to stay where she felt the safest instead of doing what her mind yelled at her to be the right thing?

But that had been a foolish thought.

Corrin was her. She was him. They shared the same ideals, the same mind, the same regrets.

Truly looking at oneself and seeing all of the regrets, all of the fears, all of the second-guessings... It was heart-breaking and heartwarming at the same time.

Comforting, to find someone so alike to oneself -- no, to find the very same person they were in their core -- and to be simply understood.

They held each other in a tight embrace, their loud yet choked sobs being muffled by one another's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry!" She said, digging her nails into his back.

"F-forgive me- I... made so many people suffer." He apologized back, crushing her ribs in his hug. "I-"

"I-"

"Why haven't we met before this all happened?!" She hiccuped, "so many deaths could have been avoided- I- I already feel so much stronger with you here..."

"Oh," the prince wavered, his legs weakening. "We could've joined forces- they... they wouldn't have had to die!"

Would it be possible to have another path? To meet another self, to guide them through their struggles? To reset their own history and make it alright again?

Who would prevail? Would they lose their sense of self and be reborn as one another? Would one of them cease to exist? 

... Couldn't them simply start over? Couldn't they go through it all together? The TRUE blood siblings they never had -- hand in hand, through it all?

Could they finally stand by their own words of 'having no regrets' and proudly state them as truth?

"I say I have no regrets, but oh, what lie!" They didn't know who said that, both of them feeling the same grief, the same guilt crushing them both from the inside.

"Every night... Every night I'm plagued by guilt," the prince sobbed, digging his face into the soft silver hair, "and... no matter how much my family grows..." Kana, oh, my little Kana! he thought woefully, "I- I still l-lay awake-- regretting the deaths of my family."

Corrin nodded in understanding, drenching the prince's shirt with her tears. "The people who loved me from infancy-- they all died due to my own s-selfish choice... Can I truly say I stand by it and that I would do it all over again? Can I- Can I call myself happy even after the birth of my children... having bloodied my hands so?"

“P-please teach me… Teach me how to live with this guilt. Sometimes I-” The Prince felt the mends in his heart crumble for the nth time.

“M-me too; you don’t need to say it. D-don’t voice it. Don’t let anyone know.” She held him with everything she had. “I- can’t teach you. I… I need to know that, as well.”

“...” He dug his face even more into her shoulder. “We can-” he started.

“- learn together,” she finished.

Unwilling to break contact, Prince and Princess stayed there, giving each other support, for as long as they would need.

They would never be able to live down with their choices -- with their regrets.

But they had to. They had to appear strong, to be the charismatic leader everyone wanted them to.

Only there -- only in Askr they would be able to truly be themselves: with each other. With their own selves. They would always regret, but at least…

At least, from then on it would be less difficult to live with that guilt.

#feh #fire emblem fates #flora #felicia #corrin #my writings #yuki's commissions

[xx-ingie-xx]

Forgotten Excerpt!

For what feels like the hundredth time, I must apologize for my failure to post consistently. 😣 BUT I’m happy to say the next chapter of Forgotten is more than halfway complete! I hope to post it this week. In the meantime, here is an excerpt involving what will more or less trigger the climax of the story, where everything falls apart. ^_^

----

“Inhale… Exhale… Focus on your breathing. Empty your mind as the air leaves your lungs.”

Zelda inhaled deeply, filling her nose with the scent of roses and lilacs from the garden below. A merry bird sang from a nearby branch, not far from her place on the balcony outside her bedchamber. She had settled there to practice her daily meditations, as she did every morning under Impa’s watchful guidance.

“Let go of your senses; detach yourself from the physical world…”

Tightening her already closed eyelids, Zelda imagined herself drifting through a void, far beyond reality, where thoughts and memories materialized like pictographs come to life.

“Relax and let your memories surface; never try to force them. Think of the visions you have seen; let them be a starting point. Leave all your expectations, all your uncertainties. Follow where the images lead.”

Zelda frowned, feeling her concentration waver as she recalled her unpleasant experience in the Lost Woods. She had experienced no visions and recovered no memories since, despite Impa's frequent attempts to unearth them.

Phantoms of my past… But is it even my past anymore?

“What do you see? Anything?”

Zelda sighed and opened her eyes, giving Impa an apologetic shake of her head. “Nothing. Impa, I think this is a futile exercise.”

The Sheikah studied her a moment, and Zelda brushed some invisible dirt from her sleeve, unnerved by Impa’s grim expression.

"Tell me something, Zelda,” she said gently, “and tell me honestly... Do you want to recover your memories?"

Zelda blinked, taken aback. "I... why wouldn't I?"

"That wasn't my question."

The queen scoffed, looking aghast. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

Impa sighed softly. "Zelda, we have been repeating these exercises for weeks, and so far you have recovered no memories, not even a glimpse.”

“So I need more time—”

“No. Someone else might, but not you. Meditation has always come naturally to you. Your lack of progress suggests some kind of emotional interference—a mental barrier of sorts, perhaps even a reluctance to succeed at this exercise…?”

Feeling suddenly defensive, Zelda struggled to form a reply. Her face burned with shame, deepening her frustration.

“If my suspicions are true,” Impa said, studying Zelda closely, “and you have no genuine wish to recover your memories, then this exercise is indeed futile, and a waste of time for us both. Would you prefer we stop these attempts?”

Zelda lowered her gaze, watching Impa’s feet as she left her own meditation cushion. 

“I think that might be best,” she said, still staring at her hands as Impa knelt beside her. “At least for a while. I'm sorry, Impa.”

“Zelda, my ne'lear,” Impa murmured, combing gentle fingers through Zelda’s long hair, “there is no need for shame. I only want to understand your reluctance. Will you tell me about it?”

The queen met her guardian’s gaze, relieved to find only tenderness in her eyes.

“I… I can’t seem to sort out how I feel.”

“Try,” Impa coaxed. “What do you feel when you imagine your memories being restored? Don't think; just answer instinctively.”

"Well, I know Link would be relieved—"

"I didn't ask about Link. This is about you. How does it make you feel?"

Zelda hesitated, aware of something building in her throat and pressing on her mind.

"Scared.” The word escaped as little more than a whisper, and with it came a sharp twinge of guilt. “It frightens me.”

"That is a perfectly natural response,” Impa soothed. “Everyone fears the unknown.”

Zelda shook her head. “It’s more than that. I feel… I feel as though the person I was and the person I am are two separate individuals. The old Zelda existed before, in her own way, but now I exist in my own way, with my own thoughts and desires. These memories you want me to recover… they belong to her. If I recover them, I fear she will replace me. And I will cease to exist... remembered only as an impostor.”

Inwardly Zelda cringed as she recognized the absurdity of her own logic. Yet she also felt poised to defend it.

“Don’t I have the right to choose my own life?” she asked, regaining some strength in her voice. “To start anew, unhindered by someone else’s memories?"

“Yes…” Impa said slowly. “You have that right. But you must recognize that this… duality you’re experiencing is not rational. This old Zelda you speak of—she is you. And you are her. If you recover your memories, you will remember being this person and having these thoughts. She will not absorb you, and you will not cease to exist. Rather, you will be whole again. Does that make sense to you?"

Zelda hesitated and looked away, considering her words. "It makes sense… and yet a part of me feels that you're wrong.”

“I understand.” 

Gently Impa reached for Zelda’s chin, lifting her gaze back to her.

“You are facing a dramatic change in your life,” she said softly, “and there is no right or wrong way to adapt. I won't force you to remember anything, nor will I hold your decision against you. I love you like my own, and nothing will ever change that."

Zelda looked at her with glistening eyes, then moved to embrace her. Impa returned it wholeheartedly, but her face was somber when she pulled away.

“I will always support you, no matter what happens, but you must understand that this choice won’t affect you alone."

Zelda had expected such a warning, but heart sank into a pit of gloom nonetheless.

Link. Kind, honorable, guarded Link.

Though she lacked the familiarity to say it, Zelda felt something had changed in him since her visit to Zora’s Domain—something subtle, rooted deep in a place she could not reach. He was no less charming, no less courteous… and no less reserved. He was the perfect gentleman, always holding her at arm’s length and keeping his emotions in check. The affection he showed her all those weeks ago had gone unexplored, forgotten in the shuffle of their daily routines. Every day they woke in their separate rooms and rose to live a lie, letting Shayne believe they still shared a bed, letting the Council believe they felt no emotional strain, letting the public believe that nothing was amiss.

[writeyourownname]

At Home: Welcome

M’Baku x Reader

Summary: The reader gets lost on her run from home and manages to find her way into the home of the Jabari tribe. How will they receive her? Will she be welcomed, or thrown out?

You are from Anolia, because I’m not choosing a place that’s real. 

Word Count: 1432

Note: I saw Black Panther and WOWOW. I love these characters, the plot, can I see the original 4 hour version???? Well developed, beautiful people. And nobody asked for this, but Oh Well. 

As an outsider to the Jabari tribe, you had no idea how they would receive you because - well, you frankly had no idea they existed. You had fled from your own country, sneaking through the Wakanda natural landscapes. You climbed and climbed forward into the mountains, not expecting to find anything but a rabbit or two and a possible cave to sleep in. Instead, you saw great buildings on the mountainsides. You slowed your steps as you neared it, and suddenly heard a deep chant from all around you. You froze in fear with wide eyes. 

Large men surrounded you and tears welled up in your eyes. You had no idea what was going on and they were closing in on you. 

They all stopped in synch. One of the men stepped forward in front of you and spoke to you in a language you didn’t understand. 

“I don’t - I don’t understand.”

“What are you doing here?” His low voice boomed. His eyes locked on you in an intimidating glare.

“I’m lost,” Tears threatened to fall as your voice wavered.

The man nodded, and the formation turned to the direction of the largest building.

“Follow,”

The congregation marched forward and you went with them, still stuck in the middle of the group. At the entrance to the building, the majority of the men fell behind. 

Your nerves increased as you got closer to whatever they had in store for you; your thoughts racing wildly. You entered into a room open to the mountains behind the man whom you had begun calling in your head ‘The General’. 

The was a large chair in the middle, one you assumed to be a throne. There sat a man who watched with curiosity as his men lead you in. You knew that you were blocked completely by them, so he wouldn’t be able to see you. 

“My king,” The General bowed. 

“Ampah, what have you come for?” His voice surprised you in its velvety flow.

“An outsider, sir.”

“Well, move aside. Let me see,” He waved his hand at the men.

The men parted and you were front and center next to Ampah, The General. Something in your mind told you that it was most appropriate to bow, and you did so slowly. 

“I did not expect a woman.” He eyed you suspiciously.

“Sir, she said she was lost.” 

“Is that so? What do you call yourself?” He directed at you. 

You stood from your bow. “Y/n, sir.”

“Y/n, where are you from?” 

“Anolia, sir.”

“Ah, then do you know who I am? Where you are?” 

“I do not know you, sir. I apologize. I only know that I am somewhere in Wakanda.” 

He sat in contemplation, studying you. “Yet you bowed.” 

You only inclined your head. 

“Ampah, she shows me respect.. And she is pretty. Take her to my sister.” 

“Do you have directions to pass on to Gyasi, sir?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Show our guest hospitality.” 

Ampah nodded and lead you away. The other men went back to their earlier duties. 

“I am surprised that our king did not introduce himself. He is called M’Baku, and he leads our tribe. We are the Jabari, and we worship the Gorilla. We are an outside tribe to Wakanda, and M’Baku is the second strongest warrior in all of Wakanda, second only to King T’Challa.” 

You nodded along, taking in the information and trying to compute it enough to not come off as rude for not knowing anything. 

“Gyasi is M’Baku’s older sister. She oversees many medical units we have and is an expert herbalist. She also sits on council in meetings. She will host you kindly, if you are honest and respectful.” 

“Yes, sir,”

“Very good.” You both stood in front of a sort of hut or cabin, mint wafted through the air from an open window, making you inhale deeply. 

Ampah knocked in a crisp pattern and put his hands behind his back while he waited. The door was opened quickly by a beautiful woman. She was tall and strong-looking with a strong jaw. 

“Ampah,” She greets. 

“Gyasi.” He nods. “King M’Baku has asked you to look after our guest and show her much hospitality.”

‘Guest?” She glances curiously at you. 

“Guest Y/n of Anolia. She will be staying for an undetermined time.” 

“Very well, come in,” She smiled warmly at you and lead you inside. 

It was incredibly cozy, with warm lighting and plants everywhere, a cluttered table of herbs and mixing tools in the middle of the first room. 

“Y/n, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I am Gyasi, sister to M’Baku. Tell me, why are you here?” She gestured for you to sit on a stool at the table and she leaned against the opposite counter. She crossed her arms and her face became serious as she awaited your response.

“In short, I ran from home. My family is in debt to our neighbors, and to repay it my father planned to sell me as a slave to them. They are horrible people, and I know what terrible things they would do to me, so I left. I packed a few things during the night and fled. I have been traveling for three nights, and found myself here.” 

“Did you bring anyone with you? Does anyone know where you are?”

“No ma’am,” You weren’t sure if that answer would serve as a gift or a curse for you.

She smiled then, warm and wide. “Lost girl, welcome.”

She pulled you off of your stool and hugged you tightly. You returned it, glad to feel nothing but a sense of home and security in her arms. When she let go, she kept her hands on your arms.

“You will have no worries about being sold or found out while you’re here.” 

You let out a gasp of relief as it filled you like a river. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

She pulled away and looked comically pensive. “How about you let me teach you some of my medicine in return? I’m growing old and I need some help,” She laughed merrily and you chuckled. 

“Old? Only if my eyes have decided to deceive me!” 

For the next two hours you helped Gyasi work her herbs into salves and the like. She was extremely knowledgeable, and you struggled to keep up. She found it hilarious, and joked that the elders and the children could work faster than you. 

She was actually quite impressed with your natural skills though, and told you as much when you had finished the last batch of the night. 

The sun was setting by then, and she had started dinner while you finished. With the smell of dinner cooking came social hour. She explained to you that there would be a welcoming feast that evening to honor you, as is done with all welcome visitors. 

Although it was a long standing tradition, it was one rarely entertained because so few people wandered up the mountains to them. The last one happened decades ago, when she was a child and M’Baku had yet to be born. 

The women would be informed and spend the time they had preparing their best dishes, while the men would gather the children and the drums. There would be music and dance indigenous to their tribe, and the guest would be expected to learn the Agba Egwú. Many of the kings teach this dance, but when Gyasi was a child, she and the other children taught the ceremonial dance. 

“It was delightful. The laughter and horrible skills of the stranger still rest in my mind.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they weren’t that bad.”

She gave you the, ‘You wanna bet?’ look and imitated him, consequently knocking over an empty basic that had sat on the table from her flailing arms. You laughed boisterously with her, and even the knock at the door couldn’t stop your laughter. 

Gyasi opened it to her brother, who immediately hugged her as a greeting. Upon seeing him, your laughter ceased, but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. 

M’Baku scooped you into a bear-hug immediately after he let go of his sister, much to your surprise. You were engulfed by him and felt tiny compared to his size. 

“Y/n, I am glad to see that Gyasi has received you well. She has told you about the feast?”

“Yes, sir.” M’Baku laughed and Gyasi came around to his side. 

“I am M’Baku, please, only warriors call me ‘sir’.” 

“Yes sss-M’Baku.” 

“Much better. Now, are you ready to feast?”

#black panther #marvel #m'baku #x reader #m'baku x reader #ocs #the jabari

[marshaeb]

P.S: I'm Mated With The Cursed Alpha!

Chapter Four

Hey guy! Don’t forget to Like, Comment, Review, and Follow for more updates! My apologies in advance for all the grammatical errors. Book will be professionally edited when completed.

The screams of horror rose to the roof as a flock of rogues suddenly emerged onto the scene.

As the enormous black wolf came charging my way, everything around me ceased to exist. The only thing in my view was the vicious beast, rapidly heading towards me with his large, dangerously sharp teeth bearing at me.

My mind was screaming at me, telling me to run, but my legs remained fastened to the ground. Like a deer caught in headlights, I was too traumatized to move.

“Joel!” Someone screamed at me from the raging chaos.

Just when I had thought something terrible had happened to her, I quickly snapped to my senses.

That gowling scream I had bottled up inside me was unleashed within an instant. I screamed with fear and terror to the top of my lungs.

Sarah collides against me hard, pushing me out of the way from the oncoming monster just in time. The beast lost control, gliding and crashing its huge body against the bar.

“S-Sarah!” I called her name, choking up with fear as a streak of blood drained down her forehead. “SARAH!”

She blinked open her eyes, trying to regain her strength from the hard fall.

“Jo’! She pitched up suddenly, grasping her aching head. In and out she breathed harshly as I crunch down to help her up.

“S-Sarah! What’s happening?” I panicked.

“T-they’re... Rogues!” She grunted in pain. “I knew we shouldn’t have to come! We have to get out of here, Joel! NOW!”

I wrapped her arm around my shoulders, giving her support as we made our way through the crowd.

" T-the car keys...” Sarah grunted, holding her head as we made it safely to the car. “Do you have the car keys?

“Y-yes, I—

I paused mid-sentence, staring at my hand holding Sarah’s pouch, but her car keys were nowhere present.

“Oh my goodness!” I whimpered sharply, looking everywhere around my feet. “Where is it? Where the hell is it?”

“Oh no! Did you lose it?” She asked, resting faintly against the car door.

A loud, deep growl rippled from the tavern throughout the parking lot. Its sound was filled with terror.

I could feel my heart speeding up. My mouth starting to dry up as I breathe in the drafty air, re-tracing my steps to find the car keys... I could find it anywhere.

My mind was racing with fearful thoughts of the huge monster coming after me again. Those long, sharp, fangs tearing me apart, limb by limb. Those eyes...those terrorizing sinister gold eyes. I’ve never in my life seen a werewolf-like him ever. But why on earth did he charge after me?

I’ve spotted it. Shimmering in the grass just a foot away from me. I clenched my fist and took a deep breath and dashed as fast as my feet can take me, snatching up the car keys in my hand. When I turned around, my shoe slipped off my feet and fell hard on my injured arm.

I groaned and whimpered in agony, feeling the sore pain jotting through my body. “Oww!” I said through clenched teeth.

Slowly I turned over and lift my aching body off the ground, looking ahead of me.

There he was...standing at the entrance of the tavern, back in his human form with his eyes fixed on me. His nostrils flared open as his breath vaporized in the chilly air with every harsh huff he took.

My heart stopped as I watched his sharp jaw, clenched intensely. His stare alone could keep anyone in his hold. Though they were dark and terrorizing, there was something mysterious and surprisingly soft about them.

He took another stance and gradually lowered himself back on all fours.

I snapped out of his hold and ran for dear life, not caring if I was in agonizing pain. Getting far away from him was the only thing on my mind.

When I finally made it back to the car, Sarah was already sitting in the driver’s seat with all the car glasses broken through.

Claw marks were over her shoulder blade and arms. Her blouse was torn through, stained with blood.

“S-Sarah!” I gasped, opening her door. “What...what happened to you?”

“A rogue...attacked me—

I watched as she coughed weakly, groaning in pain.

“Rogues...their marks are infectious...” I said recalling the notes I’ve written in my nursing course about them. “We’ve got to get home fast before the infection spreads!”

Though being in pain as well, I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.

“Look Sarah, we have to get out of here!” I said looking around me.

I didn’t understand it...out of everyone here, why was he after me? Why?

Just thinking about it was driving me insane. Taunting me every second that goes by.

“Go over... I’ll drive!” I breathed sharply.

After she struggled to move her weak body over to the passenger side, I heard a tig snapped behind me.

A rush a fear came over me as I slowly looked over my shoulder.

There his massive, black wolf stood tall with its eyes fixed on the only thing in his path... Me.

Quickly, I leaped inside the car, panicking as I fought to stick the key into the ignition.

“Hurry Jo’!” Sarah cried, shaking in her seat. “It’s going to kill us!”

When I finally managed to get the key in the ignition, I start up the car and shift the gear into drive.

With my feet heavy on the gas pedal, I drifted out of the parking lot onto the main road.

Not looking back, I stared out at the empty highway ahead of us, zooming past the tall pine trees.

Making at least 80 miles per hour, trying to get us away as fast as I can, mentally, I felt as if we weren’t moving anywhere.

The cool wind gushed in my face, making my mouth even more dryer than it already was. I glanced at Sarah, hearing her breathe in and out heavily.

“Joel?” She panted, holding her hand gently over her pulsing wounds. “Are we there yet?”

“Don’t worry, I’m getting us there as fast as I can.

“H-how far... are we?” She asked.

“I’m going as fast as I can... I know it hurts. Just a few more minutes.” I choked trying to keep my composure when suddenly my mind went to mom.

I sighed aloud, biting my bottom lip anxiously. This would definitely make her look down at me. All I ever do is cause trouble. I couldn’t bear to see the scornful, disappointing look on her face. It’s one thing getting in harm’s way, but to see a friend suffer from what I’ve caused is devasting.

It’s always me bringing shame on the family’s name. What makes it even worse, I’m not even their biological daughter! The least I could do is be unproblematic, and grateful that I have a family who goes out of their way to care for my well being.

I couldn’t help the tears from falling, thinking about all the trouble I had caused.

“Sarah... I’m so sorry.” I cried, squeezing my hand tightly around the steering wheel. “I should listen to you and let us leave when we had the chance.”

She sighed deeply, closing and opening her eyes for a moment.

“It’s ok Joel... really!” She said.

“No, it’s not!” I shouted a bit too harshly than I suppose to. “I confess!”

“Confess?” She said confusedly.

“Yes!” I replied, trying to hold back more tears.

“The only reason I said we should still go to the stupid party was that I wanted to see Jackson...” I whimpered, feeling more guiltier as I confessed. “This whole week he’s been so busy. I-I was looking forward to at least seeing him out there.”

Still, in so much pain, I could tell she was upset and slightly irritated at my confession.

“Really Jo’?” She said. “A-all you had to do...was ask me if—

“I know, I know,” I shook my head, not wanting her to make a fuss out of all this.

“No, you don’t!” She insisted that I finish listening to what she’s trying to say. “When since have we started keeping things from each other, Jo’?”

“Sarah I—

“Let me finish!” She said in a more serious tone. “If you want to know something?... Fine! Yes, I was kinda hurt that you didn’t tell me about your first time... I thought that’s what best friends do. Tell each other everything!”

My cheeks were hurting by how hard I was trying to hold back my emotions. Sarah was right. From little kids, we promise that we would tell each other everything. Now here I am not only being a disappointment of a daughter, but I’m also a friend who went back on my promise.

“Sarah... I’m sorry!” I huffed, wiping away my salty tears with the back of my hand. “I-I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

She sighed softly, and like always with a forgiving heart, she accepted my apology.

“It’s ok, really...” She cleared her throat. “All that matters right now is getting away from those rogues and that gigantic wolf.“Why is it after us?” She asked, but I was just as clueless as she was...

Suddenly, it came to me. I finally started to put it all together.

“It’s after me,” I said.

“It’s after you?” She gasped. “Why?—How?”

“I should have seen this coming. Everything Mom was doing was to protect us from things like this.” I said.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Do you think it’s because you’re the daughter of a well-known Alpha?”

“Yes!” I swallowed, looking through the forest trees as we sped by. “Ever since he laid eyes on me, he looked as he knew who I was. His stare was so intense.”

Sarah paused for a moment, puzzled and weary her countenance had become after hearing what I said. Then, her eyes suddenly widened.

“Joel...you don’t think, there’s a possibility—

“What?” I asked.

“Maybe he’s your m—

The car engine suddenly shut off. I floored and floored the gas pedal over and over, but the car refused to speed up.

Sarah began taking deep breaths.

“W-what...what happened?” She panicked.

Trembling with fear, I looked at the empty gas range and instantly my heart started ramming against my chest.

“No! No! Come on!” I cried, turning the key in the ignition repeatedly, but it only gave us a few hopeless cranked, refusing to turn on. “Damn! We’re on empty!” I said, taking shaky breaths.

We both began to panic, realizing we’re stuck on an empty road surrounded by a dark forest with a pack of rogues and a monstrous wolf on our trail.

“Jo’!” She blurted out with fear in her voice, “What are we going to do!!!

A loud howl came traveling through the spooky woods in the distance. They sounded even closer than we thought.

“Sarah, we have to run!” I cried.

“What!” She said in an unsure tone.

“Yes! It’s either we run now and make it on the pack’s territorial grounds in time or stay here trying to start up the car and get ambush.”

Without having second thoughts, we ran out of the car and shift into our wolf. I always envied Sarah’s wolf’s dark chocolate fur. Mines is just a plain, light, chalky brown color. I hated everything about it.

“Sarah!” I said through mind link when the sounds of growls and ruffled bushes caught us off guard behind us.

“Our border’s right ahead. Once we cross, they can’t harm us!”

We took off into the woods. We sprinted as fast as we can across the wet forest floor as the cool breeze swept our fur. The rogues were right on us.

Finally, we came in view of the pack’s borders only a few feet away. But though we were getting close, he was much bigger, faster, and even more determined to get what he wanted.

We shifted back into human form. Thin layers of sweat and splattered mud covered our bodies as we tried to catch our breath.

Tired and aching with pain, we stared at the wooden, six feet border.

“We have to climb over!” I said as Sarah faintly collapsed against it.

“I can’t, Jo’!” She groaned, holding her wounded shoulder.

“No! No! NO, Sarah!” I cried, helping her to her feet. “Climb up, hurry! They’re coming!” I squealed, watching as their shadowy figures came closer and closer!”

I clutched my arms around her legs and push her up with all the strength I had left. One of my stitches popped and I watched as blood started to drain down my arm. She finally reached the top and crossed over.

“Guards! Guards!” Sarah shouted aloud to the nearby guards. “Come on, Joel!” She panted, with on-hand reaching over for me and the other grasping her wound. “Hurry, grab my hand!”

As I hurry to climb, I slipped on an algae-covered log and fell back, landing hard on my bottom.

“JOEL!” She cried as the guards made their way over.

I crawled back over on territorial grounds just in time as the flock of rogues, all different colors and sizes, gathered me, growling viciously. Though they were so eager to attack, they couldn’t, because I was safe on my rightful territory.

I trembled in fear as they bear their sharp teeth at me. Sarah cried aloud, clutching her arms around me through the border.

“Don’t worry, Sarah!” I gasped, trying to calm her down. “They won’t harm me... I-I’m on our grounds.”

Slowly and carefully, I took my time and made my way up without slipping out of bounds. Suddenly his wolf leaped out of nowhere, raging in fury.

The rogues quickly moved out of his path as he shifted back into his human form and stalked my way.

His intense, blazing, green eyes were fastened on me as he strutted closer. They were like flaming darts, piercing through my soul. His muscles were swollen, covered with a thin coat of sweat, glazing in the moonlight with his long straight hair was plastered over his neck and shoulders.

Just like the others, I knew he won’t harm me now, knowing he would be trespassing onto territorial grounds, but boy was I wrong.

He made his way over, not giving a damn if he was on territorial grounds or not, and launch up after me. But I managed to land safely over in time before he could hold me captive.

“Joel!” Sarah cried, embracing my trembling body tightly.

I turned around and stared up at him as he took harsh, deep breaths. His clenched jaw was twitching uncontrollably. Frustration and defeat were smeared over his face as he stared silently down at me through hooded eyes. The tension was so thick between us, we could have cut it with a knife.

Still overly petrified, feeling my heart about to leave my chest, I was so lucky and relieved I got away on time.

I don’t know why I did it, but the smallest smirk gradually crept on my face as I took deep breaths to calm myself. That alone set him off. He widened his eyes and flared his nostril in rage. My little smirk faded away instantly as he growled deeply, bucking his taut chest against the border towards me.

As the guards came closer, that was when I made the wrongest mistake ever. One wrong move, I turned around and stumble back slightly. He reached his muscular arm through the log, locking his large hand firmly onto my puff of hair.

“Joel!” Sarah screeched.

My lips parted, but I couldn’t make a sound. I was too in shock that I had let my guard down so carelessly. His grip tightened and I whimpered, squeezing one eye close feeling the slight pain.

“LET HER GO!” Sarah shouted, clawing his hand, but he reached out his other arm and slapped her hand away.

“Step away, or I’ll snap your freaking neck!” He growled threateningly at her. “And you...” He said, pulling me closer to the border towards him.

I quivered hearing his deep, raspy Alpha voice for the first time. It was deeper and more boisterous than any male wolf I know.

He took a deep sniff of my scent and groan loudly, sending chills through my body. “I thought I saw a smirk a few seconds ago... Where is it now, little girly.” He said in a menacingly low voice.

When I didn’t answer, he tightened his grip on my hair and growled.

“That wasn’t a mistake you made letting your guard down...it was destined to happen!” He said slowly. “You can’t escape what was meant to be.”

“L-let me go!” I manage to muttered, grasping my much smaller hand over his grip. “P-plea-se...”

He let out an empty chuckle and coldly replied, “You can’t be talking to me.”

I whimpered, feeling the tears starting to build up in my eyes, streaming down my face.

“I’ve been waiting too long for this...” He said intensely. “Seven years... too long!”

Read Chapter Five (Click the link below)

[kcmarsala]

Preview of my upcoming sequel to “Conflicted” - let me know what you think!!!

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

She felt moisture on her cheek, and knew the tear had fallen from his eye. Despite her fervent desire to remain oblivious to the pain that awaited her, she slowly followed his bidding. She couldn’t see him clearly as he hovered over her, but she knew beyond any doubt that this was the man she loved with all her being…and he was about to die.

“Don’t say it,” she whimpered, begging him, but he shook his head.

“You must survive,” he croaked, and she sobbed. “Swear it to me.”

“No,” she moaned. “No, I can’t.”

“You can, and you must. For them, Rey,” he added, his knuckles brushing gently against her middle, drawing her attention to the barely begun lives within her womb. “Survive. For them.”

“Not without you!” she wailed softly, her anguish consuming her.

“For me,” he pleaded, only causing her to weep with renewed fervor.

“Oh, please,” a low, cold voice interrupted contemptuously.

As she knew would be the case, she couldn’t see the speaker of these words either, but she knew they were uttered by their enemy, a heartless murderer who had set his sights on her and her one true love.

“He serves no further purpose,” the evil voice pronounced, a hand gesturing dismissively toward the man at her side. “Execute him. Now.”

She screamed, instinctively flinging herself in the path of her love’s executioner. But rather than obstructing a bladed weapon aimed to remove his head, she found herself centered in a vortex, a swirling confusion of sight, sound, and sensation that pulled her down and within, robbing her instantly of her senses and plunging her into an oblivion from which she would not wake…

Rey screamed, bolting upright and breathing frantically, her mind requiring a second cry of terror and dismay before it caught up to the fact that it had only been a dream, the dream, the same one from which she always awoke screaming. Succumbing instantly to the wild tears that invariably succeeded the dream, she yelped once again when she felt a hand on her shoulder. With another whimper of helpless despair, she flung herself into her husband’s arms, her tears drenching his bare shoulder as she clung to him, desperately seeking his reassurance. Slowly, her higher faculties regained control over her emotions, at last coming to embrace the words he whispered in her ear over and over.

“It was a dream,” he murmured, stroking her hair tenderly and holding her tight. “Only a dream.”

There were other dreams she had on occasion, ones that hinted at things she had clearly forgotten. But it was this one that truly terrified her because it showed a glimpse of the moment in which everything had changed. As it turned out, she hadn’t lost her husband that day as she’d feared, but she had lost the entirety of herself. She could feel that she was only a fraction of who she had once been, and it was beyond distressing to realize she had already achieved all the progress she could ever make toward her recovery. If only she could have been stronger, more capable of resisting or even merely understanding the power that had overtaken her. Maybe then she could have fought it, thwarted it, rather than succumbing entirely to its effects. And maybe then she could live a full life, something more than this hollow existence she endured now.

As always, these thoughts stabbed uncomfortably at her conscience, and she pushed her way out of her husband’s embrace with a heavy sigh. Rolling to the edge of the bed, she rose to her feet and strode purposefully from the room. She ignored his calls for her to come back, instead making her way inexorably to the kitchen and the glass of water she suddenly so desperately needed. She looked down at the flowing sleeping gown of the finest fabric that swirled about her legs as she walked, then up at the well-appointed kitchen of the luxurious home he had provided for her, and the sudden instinct that it was all only a beautiful prison assailed her. Gritting her teeth and shoving the thought aside, she forced herself to focus only on retrieving a glass and filling it with clear, pure water…yet another luxury of her incarceration.

Rey slammed the glass down, water splashing over its rim to soak her hand and the counter. She bowed her head, fuming angrily that the errant thoughts wouldn’t stop. She had at last begun to make some headway toward calming herself when she tensed all over again, jerking in surprise as his hands gripped her shoulders and slid down the length of her arms. With a frustrated sigh, she leaned back against him, the entire length of her body coming into contact with the entire length of his. Her neck arched back and she moaned at the sensation of his lips below her ear.

“When did you get home?” she murmured.

“Only a few hours ago,” he responded softly, his breath fluttering seductively over her skin. “You were already asleep.”

She moaned again, ostensibly in reaction to the sensation of him gently kneading her breast, but actually in frustration as her mind spun away on yet another of its nonsensical tangents. She couldn’t be certain, of course, but it seemed as though she always had this particular dream when he returned home, always on her first night at his side in the wake of his long absences. Firmly insisting that her mind cease its pointless wanderings, she reached back with her hands to grasp his ass, pressing her own into the arousal she could feel growing between them. His breath caught in a hiss at her ear, and she squeezed, her fingers digging into his bare flesh.

She knew where this was headed, anticipated the moment a forceful hand planted between her shoulder blades and predictably shoved her forward. In petty revenge, she allowed her hand to slide directly into the glass of water, tipping its contents across the cold surface before it sailed over the edge to shatter on the floor. The damage unheeded, she sensed his frantic need as her gown was lifted unceremoniously to expose her ass. She reached back between her legs to catch his straining cock and ease its way inside her as much as she could, knowing that his lack of foreplay would leave her even more sore afterward if left to his own devices. Besides, it gave her the advantage of having her hand appropriately positioned as he pounded away at her, driving his dick inside her ruthlessly while she attempted to stroke her clit into playing along. All too soon, though, he was done, gripping her hips firmly against his as he groaned and choked out his orgasm. Rey rested against the counter, abandoning her fleeting quest for her own pleasure, and listening to his efforts to regain his breath.

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t know what came over me,” he said…just as he always did.

She shook her head, negating the apology. Sex had long ago become a utilitarian thing, a perpetually rewardless effort to conceive rather than any expression of their love for one another. The thing was, though, she had also long ago given up on being able to conceive. Either he still had hope or…he was just getting off.

I wonder if he’d ever bother coming home if it wasn’t for my cunt.

Rey squeezed her eyes shut, horrified with herself for thinking such a thing and thrusting it forcefully from her mind with all haste. As if to make up for her uncharitable thought, she gently pushed back at his hips with her hand, easing his fading erection from her core and turning to embrace him as the evidence of his desire went oozing down her leg. She buried her face in his neck as his arms wrapped around her, reminding herself how much she loved him, how dedicated he was to taking care of her, and how grateful she was for whatever time he could spend with her. Burying her guilt and willfully filling her mind with her deep and abiding love for him, she kissed him deeply. He responded passionately, his tongue plunging inside her mouth in a crude imitation of the sexual act they’d just completed. She moaned against him as her hand rose of its own accord to cradle his head and delve into his hair. And, with a sudden, strangled cry, she abruptly pushed him away.

Curved awkwardly to the side so that her elbow met the counter at her hip, her body contracted, her fist pressing into an eye socket as she struggled with the visceral sensation that had seized her. The moment her hand had touched his hair, she’d been assailed with the sudden certainty that it was all wrong. She’d expected to encounter long, silky locks that curled gently between her fingers, rather than the short, stiff hair that she’d only ever known her husband to have. The dissonance between what she’d expected and what she’d felt had been jarring, leaving her heaving for breath and desperate for something to ground her to reality. Latching onto the slimy discomfort his cum had left at her crotch as entirely real enough, she felt her world come back into focus. But it wasn’t until she could breathe more evenly that she became aware of her husband’s alarmed voice.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously, his voice far louder than it needed to be. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a flash,” she explained impatiently, desperate to silence the voice grating horribly in her ears.

Flash was the word they had long since established to indicate these sudden insights she sometimes got into her forgotten past. Sometimes they were images, sometimes voices, and sometimes just a sudden and distinct understanding about something.

“About what?”

“Have you ever had long hair?” she asked curiously, rather than directly answer his question.

She peered at him closely, watching him hesitate. She could see his mind working frantically behind his eyes, calculating and scheming, and she suddenly felt overwhelmingly suspicious. Why should it take so long for him to answer such a straightforward question?

“A little longer than this,” he answered with a shrug and a vague gesture toward his scalp, both of which somehow struck her as feeling forced. “How long do you mean?”

“At least here,” she answered, gently touching the point midway down his neck.

To cover your ears.

Rey blinked abruptly, that subtle gesture the only indicator of the errant thought that had entered her mind. Her eyes slid over his exposed ears, instinct telling her that covering them had simply never much of a concern for him. So, then, who was she thinking of…?

“No,” he answered, oblivious to her further insight, “not that long.”

Rey nodded somberly, having already known that she would gain no insight from him on the matter. She carefully repressed her disappointment, knowing from long experience how he disliked when she couldn’t readily attribute her flashes to him. Indeed, his narrowed gaze and the bitter words that followed confirmed her suspicion.

“Maybe you’re remembering some other man you loved.”

Rey smiled gently, smoothly adopting the placating demeanor she often employed with him. Guilt nipped at her conscience again, pointing out to her that she was being entirely false, deliberately giving him what he wanted only so she didn’t have to deal with his insecurities. Ruthlessly shoving the thought aside, though, she gently stroked her thumb across his pouty lip, thoroughly familiar with this game of theirs.

“Impossible,” she answered sensuously, slipping her arms around his shoulders and angling her body into his embrace. “I may not remember much, but I do know that you’re the only man I’ve ever loved, Armitage Hux.”

But even as she lost herself in his kiss, she couldn’t entirely shake the nagging sense that the silky, curling hair she’d longed to run her fingers through had been dark as night.

[sheusedtobesassier]

Day 10,340

A continuation of the remembering.

So that evening I was leading a Bible study and went to the Lounge early to hopefully be able to squeeze in a quick conversation with Omar. There was a Friend Zone in the works. To my annoyance, Omar not only didn’t come in early, he showed up maybe fifteen minutes into the session because clean up after supper took longer than usual. I decided I would pull him aside to talk as soon as we wrapped up the discussion. We all finished and I headed in his direction when he suddenly made a loud announcement that the boys dorm was doing early curfew to get some cleaning done. He headed out with the crowd. I’d have to wait until tomorrow. Actually no, I was going to have to wait longer because the next day was my day off. It’s why I wanted to get the conversation over with so I didn’t have to stress about it for longer.

I was staying with Courtney that week to keep her company while Tyler was helping with a camp in Iowa. I pulled into her driveway but called up Sam before I went inside. Sam has been one of my dearest pals since we were kids. We like to keep each other briefed on our love interests and I thought this situation qualified. We talked for maybe an hour while I thoroughly explained the predicament I was in. Sam was big time amused (he always is though, haha) and made it seem much less problematic than I was making it. He laughed a lot and said he was interested to see what would come of it. I went into Courtney’s after and immediately went into a monologue about how frustrated I was that I didn’t get the chance to clear things up that night and how totally conflicted I felt about what was going on. She let me rant for a while before interrupting me to say, “You can keep complaining about this or you can go read the love note he wrote you that’s sitting on my kitchen counter.”

Turns out that when Courtney left my office earlier that day she ran to the kitchen and told him, “If you wanna tell her how you feel, you need to do it now.” So. He ran for a pen and some paper, sat down in the tiny back office, and scrawled out a letter apologizing for any trouble he’d caused me and letting me know he was interested in being more than friends. I sat on Courtney’s kitchen floor reading it completely 1000% stunned. Your girl had received notes like this before, but never ever one from someone she reciprocated feelings for. I was in a part of my life where I’d mostly resigned myself to the truth that something about me was too difficult and no man was ever going to be interested in the extra effort it’d take to deliberately pursue me. And suddenly. The pieces of paper were in my hands. The words had been written out in half cursive. Omar wanted to try. I was dumbfounded.

He said he hoped my day off was restful and fun, but how he didn’t like that he wasn’t going to get to see me in the morning, which (other than Solitude) was his favorite part of his days. And I knew what he meant. When I’d come in to fill my cup of coffee. He’d catch sight of me and come over to say good morning, then almost always whisper how good I looked. And like, I would sometimes feel his eyes on me before I saw him. That tension. Hahaha. Look once I’d read the note there were so many small things I could relish as hot and wonderful instead of adamantly denying the heat. And like. Haha. I cannot explain to you how lush that was. Like. Hm. I haven’t put this in words before but I’ll try.

I really do mean it when I say I didn’t have feelings for Omar for the whole beginning. There wasn’t a crush. I was attracted to him, which is to say I was drawn to him. Yes that. But um, there are many men that I’m drawn to that I’m not holding out for. You know what I mean? Men that I flirt with knowing full well nothing will come of it and that’s what makes it okay. Most of the flirting I do is playful. It is not to stake claim. It is not a build up. If it seems like there is a mutual understanding that neither of us means anything by it, then I’m at ease. If that understanding doesn’t exist, either because he seems to want more or I do, THEN THE FLIRT ALSO CEASES TO EXIST. And like, that’s because historically I’ve allowed certain men to be very close to me/very flirty with me throughout our friendship while super secretly believing deeply that something was going to come of it, but it never ever did. So. I’d become pretty unaffected by romantic attention. I enjoyed it when it occurred and expected it wouldn’t last. So that way whenever it didn’t, I was relieved rather than crushed. Lol. I’m not calling this wisdom. It’s damage. So anyways. Saying all this to clarify that yeah I knew Omar and I had been pretty blatantly flirting hard with each other for weeks while I’d been swearing to everybody that asked that we were just friends. I wasn’t lying and I wasn’t in denial. I’d just been treated this wonderfully before by other funny boys that over and over again ultimately didn’t want me. So to discover that this one did?? That uh, that he was looking at me like I was something extra special because I Was Actually Extra Special To Him?? It wasn’t another internal humiliation. I could stop telling myself it meant nothing. Whew. The territory was unfamiliar.

I don’t remember the rest of the night or most of the following day. The next part that is clear in my head is wearing my green striped dress and meeting Omar at my front door. We were going on an evening stroll. There was much to discuss. So. Both of us bashful as fuck, crossed the road to wander the horse trails which somehow were magically foggy?? And. Haha. What an interesting long walk it was. Hm. I know my intention was to be like, “Thank you for the note. I think it’s best if we cool it for the summer because of our responsibilities.” I wasn’t going to fess up to my feelings, mostly because they were pretty unresolved in my own heart. So I wasn’t ready to include him in that uncertainty. Um somewhere along the line I got into explaining how he was encountering my like, the Most Impressive side of me as Zone Staff Director. The most collected and driven and high performance and outspoken me. And uh. I wanted to make it known that real me was very very different than her. Haha. His response was one of my all time favorite lines. He explained that of course there was more to me and there was more to him than I knew about too. He told me in all seriousness, “And like, I’m no peach.” Lol. Mm. I miss that guy.

We came out by the Maintenance Shop and started heading back to main camp. Around here I was telling him he was the first guy in a long long time to actually declare feelings for me. He claimed that was hard to believe. I told him it was true and congratulated him because usually when guys liked me it meant they were on the verge of meeting their soulmate. How I’m the girl who comes right before The One. Almost Girl. He rolled his eyes and I was being cute but I very much meant what I was saying. It was getting dark so I tried to put some finishing touches on the talk, but he pressed that he wanted us to walk a little longer. Haha, it would of been wiser to stop but I honestly didn’t want to either. So. We walked the path that loops around camp. And uh. Haha. He started to ask clarifying questions about what adjustments I thought we should make. And by that I mean, he started bringing up a lot of the tiny things we’d been getting away with around everybody else, speaking what had gone unspoken, acknowledging each small scandal, then smug asking, “Can we still do that?” It was terrible. And by that I mean it was fucking fantastic. I never stopped blushing. Of course I didn’t want to stop doing any of it but knew the original purpose of the walk was to calm us both down. And yet. Lol. The sun had gotten very low and the fireflies were coming out. I was actually bewildered about how fucking gorgeous it was out and said so. Omar said, “There must be something in the air tonight.” Mm. It was the perfect thing to say.

Okay. I’m about to tell another portion that I’m not sure happened this same night as the long walk. Maybe it happened later in the same week? But right now my gut is telling me that it did???? Maybe. If it did then I was definitely not making great choices haha. Um. Okay. I’ll tell it this way for now. So now it was dark dark. Nighttime. Probably around nine o’clock. We’d found our way to the floor of the gazebo, a place we’d found ourselves a few times during the daylight. It was a good spot to be alone publicly as well as a small space to get away with barely touching each other. But uh. That night. Our legs crossed over each other. And we just kept talking like it wasn’t a big deal. He had softly rubbed my ankles before (a strange trick he got away with often at the beginning) but tonight our hands were tracing each other. Dancing fingers. Leaned in. Being closer than we’d ever been while trying to touch as little as possible. And like. Fuck. Look. He started nuzzling me. And we just kept quietly talking. With his forehead pressing into my shoulder and my face and my neck. Breathing me in. I caught my own breath and sternly said, “If you kiss me we’re fucked.” He mumbled, “I’m not trying to kiss you. I just wanna be close to you.” I laughed and said, “Okay well it’s making me want to kiss you so you gotta stop it.” He did. Hahaha. And y’all. I’d never ever gotten to say anything like that to a boy. None of this had happened to me before. It was all new.  He felt so good. Somewhere in that tangling up I closed my eyes told him, “I think I made you up?” It truly felt like that at the beginning. Make believe.

We got 100 mosquito bites that eventually chased us to our beds. We didn’t kiss that night but I knew we absolutely could of. For the first time in my whole damn life, I fell asleep sure that there was a beautiful boy who would kiss me if I let him.

#personal