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noroi1000 · 1 year

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could a gojo x (demoness)reader be requested where basically gojo n reader are uni students and are couples but reader is secretly suicidal so she unalives herself in this abandoned place where a soul of a demoness finds her n possesses reader's body so now the demoness in reader's body is the reader (?) and she basically gets the reader's memories and finds out about gojo and the next day she goes to uni with him like always but gojo is slowly observing changes in her like now reader's beauty has more of a demonic n bewitching aura n twist to it ( jennifer check inspired ) and reader's personality is flawlessly confident ( which gojo is more than ok w ) but there are other changes w her such reader used to be shy but now she's the one making him shy instead , then she says demonic things like it's normal and is just so bold , fearless and so much different and now she has a terrifyingly powerful of a lethal beauty sort of and gojo accidentally finds it out all when he witnesses reader feeding on a boy ( ya bcs she's a demon obvi she needs to once in a while ) and gojo confronts her so she basically tells the truth but says she doesn't wanna kill him bcs he looks cute but gojo becomes distant bcs it's not the one he used to love and she gets it but he just can't help but give in to her. ( i'm very much ok with smut but make it really sensual n romantic if u add it lakskksks 😋) this is quite an unusual dark romance request i guess so it's ok if u don't do it :)) but i'd like to confess i love ur writings ( a fan of ur "Love you" oneshot i think , it was so nicely written ! and ur series r great as well ! )

Demonic Love

Cover by @blvckryx, thank you very much again ❤️

Paring: Gojo x demoness reader

Words: 4,6k

Warnings: heavy angst, smut, blood, demon, abandoned place, suicide, bullying, broken heart 💔

You loved Satoru, he loved you. However, many did not want you to be together. You've been mistreated. And for the sake of your beloved, you decided to end it all... You got a second chance. You have become a demon...

A demon with no appearance. No feelings, no speech, no body. It's just a levitating human figure that has nothing. Such a demon is just a ghost. Which can possess the human body and thus cut through appearance, behavior and all memories.

However, there was something different about the behavior of a man who died and then came back to life with a demon inside him.

It was not that after a person died and something took over his body, someone's soul had already left that body. People will not become a soul that has been banished by another.

Once this type of demon enters a human body, it merges with a human.

He gets a second life, but as a different person.

Other behavior. It is as if someone from the fusion of two creatures appeared in the same place.

The demon gains flesh and life. Two people make one demonic person. Even though it will be someone who will be the same as someone who died.

It's the same person, but with a different character. Looks the same, talks the same. He is the same someone.

Everything is identical, but sometimes there are demonic behaviors.

People who loved a person before being possessed by a demon cannot be accused of betrayal in love. It's still the same person.

The demon takes over all the feelings of man.

So the demon loves the person he loved with the person in whose body he lives.

So with that thought, you can live like that.

Since others don't want you to be with Satoru, maybe someone else can be with him...

You were a happy couple. For three years already.

From first grade at your university. You just fell in love. And no one could tell you otherwise.

Your love has deepened so much. You were so happy.

You spent time together, you went on dates. Where one of you was, then the other appeared as well. You were always together.

You were satisfied with your life.

You were smiling with love.

However, that love was connected to your pain.

You loved him so much, but that love got you into trouble.

Satoru was very popular with the girls. Ever since you're his girlfriend, you've been hit with hate. People started mistreating you.

Just because you're the girlfriend of the boy they like.

And these groups of girls who think they have a lot of power in school are hitting on you so they can get him and his friends as boyfriends.

You were always quiet and shy. And that was something that captivated Satoru.

You were so lovely to him. So sweet and nice. You always smiled at him. He just fell in love with it.

You were a simple girl who never tried to impress him. But you were nice when he wanted to talk to you. It was nice for him.

First friends, then he took a step closer, proposing that he be your boyfriend.

He knew you were shy to tell him anything first. So he didn't even think, and he told you his true feelings.

You have been a happy couple for so many years.

Even though there have been so many unhappy moments in your life that make you sick of this life...

For example, bullying you. Putting you down and ordering you to stop being his girlfriend.

You were threatened, you were beaten, your things and clothes were destroyed. You were even threatened with a knife.

They abused you every time your boyfriend or one of his friends wasn't around.

They even told you that if you say one word about it, they will destroy your life. That they will kill you. They'll do something terrible for Satoru and blame it on you.

You don't want him hurt...

If you had ended it yourself... It would have been better for him. He wouldn't have been hurt so much.

That day you came to visit him unexpectedly.

Knocking on the door of his house, you stood there trying to smile.

Even though you had other plans anyway.

There was something in your handbag that you will always remember. Until the end of life.

So until tonight...

When he opened the door for you, he was happy and you came to him.

You cooked dinner together. You ate it together.

You watched movies that you like to watch together.

You were only thinking about how best to spend your last moments with him.

Your last moments of life...

To give him one last evening with you.

You cuddled up to him. You kissed him gently.

Your hands held him close as you felt pleasure flooding your body. You spent hours giving him a pleasant evening.

Satisfying his needs. Hearing him say "I love you."

Every time you heard it, you cried. You were glad he could mistake those tears for tears of pleasure when he fucked you.

You wanted to smile.

But all you could do was kiss him and hug him.

You couldn't smile thinking that this is the last evening you see him...

In the night, you freed yourself from his grip as they slept together.

Stopping your body from making sounds as you cried, you placed a sheet of paper on his laptop. Together with a flower. Once he wanted to be romantic, and he bought a flower he liked to give it to you.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

You put the same flower on a leaf.

Suppressing sobs, you quickly left his bedroom and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Wiping your tears away with your hand, you walked in the dark to the kitchen counter where the knife rack stood.

You grabbed the plastic handle and pulled it out.

Stowing it into your purse, you headed for the exit door, shedding a few tears before leaving.

Saying goodbye to him forever.

With this house.

With these memories.

With his smile.

You left your belongings with him that day. Your phone, your wallet, and this note.

You also left with him the heart that you have always given to him. For love of him.

You left him moments that he can reminisce about in his life.

And you won't be able to mention it in yours.

How can you mention something in something you don't have?

When you finally found the right place where no one would see you, you walked in.

Wandering around the abandoned house, you looked at the floors and dirty walls. On furniture that was broken.

You turned on the flashlight you had with you.

The electricity in this house was working, and it surprised you very much.

You were tired of your two-hour walk to this place. You wanted to lie down and sleep.

You turned on the light on the old cabinet as you sat in the corner of what was most likely a bedroom once. Before this house was abandoned.

Finding a comfortable position, you looked at the picture of you and Satoru you've been holding since your 1st year at university.

You hugged the picture to your chest, crying. You let out a loud sob for the first time that night. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to show your anguish by screaming.

Hugging a piece of paper, you didn't even have the strength to get rid of tears.

You wanted your suffering to end once and for all.

You always wanted to be happy.

You always wanted someone to love you.

But when you loved someone and he loved you, others didn't want it.

Everyone will always do anything to push you away from your love...

And if Satoru saw you suffer because of others, he would suffer.

Therefore, when you are done suffering, he will never have to experience it.

What matters is that he accepts the loss. It's important that he forgives you...

It's important that he forgets what happened between you...

You felt as if your hot tears were starting to turn cold.

As if you were cold...

His warmth was not with you.

But at least you saw his smile that evening. Last time...

You started to cry even more at the thought.

Your vision has become blurry. Your throat was only able to let out screams and moans.

You weren't lonely, but you were.

You just want Satoru to forgive you for what you're about to do now...

Your soul may be eaten by demons, but you don't want Satoru to suffer seeing you suffer.

With trembling, sweaty hands, you grabbed the knife you had taken from his house.

And slowly moved closer to your wrist.

And when you moved your other hand hard once, you hoped Satoru would forgive you...

You weren't with him when he woke up.

You were nowhere.

Your phone was in his room. All the things you always thought were important were there.

But there was not one, the most important.

You weren't in his room. In his house. Next to him.

As he slowly took clean clothes from his dresser, he noticed something strange.

Something else on his desk.

Something he knew he wasn't putting there.

He grabbed a thin stalk, which had become limp from the lack of water.

And the white and pink geranium flower was not as beautiful as when it is freshly plucked.

His eyes looked intently at the piece of paper that lay under a small plant.

A piece of paper that had a different color in one place. Just like someone spilled in this place...

Drops of tears?

He picked up the paper and his breath stopped for a moment when he saw your handwriting.

A card with a note from you that's stained with tears?

How could he think something normal in such a situation?

And as he read the contents of the note, his lips quivered.

His eyes filled with tears for a moment.

He started breathing faster.

And when he finished reading, he looked at the little heart you drew next to the words "forget about me".

As the note fell to the floor, the only sound in the room was the closing of the door.

Walking down the hall, then along the kitchen, he looked around briefly.

But he stopped when he saw one knife missing from the wooden stand.

And he was sure that yesterday it must have been there...

Your shoes weren't there. There was nothing of yours.

The knife is gone.

And what you wrote in the note was a perfect indication of what was about to happen.

Running out of the house, he held back the tears that were about to pour out of his eyes.

You left home a long time ago.

There was no trace of you anymore.

You've already disappeared...

„Satoru, I will disappear from your life. You are not the reason. I am the reason. Because I wasn't good enough for you. I love you and I will always love you. But if you're reading this, I'm already gone. I'm glad that tonight I could see your smile for the last time and hear you say you love me. It was wonderful for me to spend all these moments with you. But I know it will never happen again. I hope you will forgive me all this. Especially since we'll never see each other again.

I love you. (y/n).

Forget about me ♡”

He looked everywhere and you were nowhere...

You left.

For ever.

And with you his happiness...

"I heard that (l/n) left, and she doesn't want to come back. Gojo-kun~ need comfort?"

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Something he liked when you did it.

However, from your hand he could no longer feel...

He slapped the girl's hand away from him.

He started walking down the corridor.

"Hey! I offer you the comfort of your sad heart. She couldn't be that important to you. She-"

Suddenly, the girl saw a fist that flies in front of her face, and with a loud bang hits a metal cabinet, right next to her head.

She looked at the furious face of the white-haired boy.

"Shut up..." he growled menacingly, making unpleasant, cold shivers run all over the girl's body. Which formed a feast as if ice needles were sticking into her. Causing tremendous chill.

He turned away, ignoring the dent in the cupboard, which wasn't that small.

And he also didn't look at his bleeding hand, which suffered when he made such an indentation into the metal

"Satoru."

He looked up when he saw his best friend.

He didn't say anything.

He hasn't said a word since yesterday. Apart from curses.

His mind was filled with only images of you.

And the questions... "Why?"

"It's (y/n)..." Geto said with wide eyes as he panted. Because he ran all over the big university building to find his white-haired friend.

As soon as he heard your name, his eyes lit up.

And without question he ran ahead. Into the courtyard at the main gate.

He saw a gathering of people. Mostly girls.

He was frantically looking for your familiar face. So that he can see your beauty again. So that he can hug you and kiss you.

He widened his eyes when he saw someone pushing through the crowd, brutally shoving everyone away.

While the crystal blue turned glassy with tears.

They think he's lost you forever.

However, something was different here...

It all happened yesterday.

Today...

You...

You were so confident. Your moves were very bold. You walked ahead, not looking if people were in front of you. They were supposed to make way for you. not you them.

And he liked your behavior. You looked so beautiful when you were confident. You weren't cute. You were beautiful...

Something has changed here...

But...

But most importantly, it was you...

He stood there, petrified with relief and happiness.

And when you saw him, your confidence suddenly evaporated, turning to tears as you ran towards him and jumped into his arms.

You don't remember what happened. You didn't feel completely yourself.

You remember clearly that that (y/n) last night, at 3am, cut her entire wrist with a knife. And crying, she bled out slowly.

Then you woke up. You are also (y/n). But you feel that your strengths are different.

That you've changed a bit.

Now for you was that (y/n), and now it's you.

You were connected to the demon that was born in that house, and without the body, it couldn't get out of there.

A demon with nothing that wanted flesh.

(y/n) died.

You are a demon living in this body who, the moment it entered the body, gave her a second life.

The demon took over all the features she had.

Creating you. (y/n). The second, same incarnation of her, but demonic.

It's like you have a second life.

You are the same person. Only your soul is different.

But one thing never changes.

You still love Gojo Satoru so much.

Crying into his shoulder, you held him so tight.

"Promise you'll never do that to me again..." he moaned, staving off tears as he closed his eyes and hugged you.

"... I promise..." you murmured with a broken voice as you didn't want to let him go.

He saw the first changes in your body as you sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched the first-year struggling.

You hugged his hand and he admires your new beauty. You bandaged his bleeding hand without a moment's hesitation from the blood.

Your hips were even more tempting to him. Just like your breasts. There was something about your whole body that drew him to you so much.

And your face... Your features were as perfect as before. Charming and beautiful.

But there was something in the styling of dangerous beauty. The soft and kind face remained that way. But your features seemed a little sharper. Your lips so tempting, soft and juicy. It tempted him to sink his lips into yours. Suck and bite. Kiss.

Your eyes were still so beautiful. They exuded a certain innocence. But they were also slightly sharper. Which caused some innocence to leak out of them. And there was a dangerous glow in them.

Your aura was darker. So captivating.

Your sweet, kind, but also slightly threatening giggle echoed in his skull as he held you close and looked at what you were laughing at.

"What are you laughing at, honey?" he asked kissing your forehead tenderly. He's been sitting like this with you ever since he saw you again. He never left your side. He was always close to you.

"This guy is completely lost..." you murmured with a small smile. "He's so nervous. That's funny."

"Hmm?"

"His nervousness and fear of this place are captivating, don't you think?"

"Captivating?" He asked.

"Yes..." you murmured softly. You felt that you were already satisfied with the negative emotions. And you returned to your docile self that loved to keep him very close.

"What do you mean?" he asked again, pulling away for a moment.

"I feel satisfied when I see someone's negative feelings, Toru. Feeding my emotions on other people's negative emotions keeps me from feeling it."

You said with a smile. Hugging him gently, again.

"What's wrong with you (y/n)? You've never been like this... Laughing at people, being so brave... It wasn't something you did."

"Anyone can change when someone pushes you to the abyss of despair where all you think about is the possibility of ending your suffering." You said and suddenly reached for his face.

You placed your hand on his cheek smiling.

"You're like my handsome, charming prince, you know? You always make me happy."

Hearing these words, he blushed slightly.

You never said anything to shame HIM.

"Something's not right here, (y/n)..."

"What is it, Toru?"

"You act completely different... You look different. What you do is different. You would never laugh at anyone. You would never push people so you could go. Your behavior towards me has hardly changed, however, you are different than you were a few days ago. How is this possible?"

You looked at him.

You stopped smiling as you put your head down.

"How did you get interested in that letter I left you?"

"What does it have to do with it?"

"Were you able to forget me?"

"... of course not..."

"What if I told you that I killed myself?"

He widened his eyes and looked at you questioningly.

"No... It's not possible. Now here you are next to me. Touching me. Talking to me. You never died."

"People didn't want me to exist because I took you from them..."

"No..." he said and got up from the bench.

"Toru..."

"It's not true... You would tell me that... Even though you look like her, talk like her and do everything like her, you can't be my same (y/n)..."

"Satoru... I died..." you told him sadly. "But now I can be in front of you because a demon descended into my soul that existed in the house where I died..."

"You really are a demon..." he muttered.

"Yeah... But I love you so much. Same as before..." you said sadly. "I never want to hurt you. You're cute and so lovely... Even if I'm a demon... I don't want anything to happen to you... "

"You're a demon... You're not the one I used to love...

"I understand you... I understand that you don't want to believe me... that you don't think I'm that person. That you don't love me..."

"I... I don't know anything anymore... But I know you're not the girl I loved all those years..." he muttered softly and started to walk slowly, with a sad face. And a terrible feeling tearing his heart apart.

You got up as he started walking away.

Tears suddenly flowed from your eyes.

"Satoru... I understand that you loved that (y/n)... But please... Don't go... I don't want to suffer again... I don't want to be alone..." you groaned, digging your fingers into your aching chest as you held back sobs.

You want to show him that you died. And to make him believe that you are still the same person. You've only changed a bit...

And he?

It pained him to think that he was gone. That he confronted the truth, and left. Leaving you alone. sobbing.

Demons almost never cry.

But you are no ordinary demon.

You're a demon, but you were still his (y/n), right?

However, he wasn't able to tell you between classes. Because you disappeared. You weren't in the classrooms where both of you were supposed to be giving lectures.

So after the two classes he had, he left the college and went home.

Where without you it was sad and gloomy.

Yes, lifeless.

The missing knife told him something graphic had happened. But if it happened, why are you alive now?

He was so happy to see you again. He missed so much. He cried for you. He couldn't accept the fact that you could take your own life. After that night with him...

Couldn't you smile at him? Is that why you kept hugging him without saying a word? Kiss him? You kept holding him so close that he couldn't see your face.

Tears that were supposed to be tears of happiness and pleasure were actually tears of pain. Suffering. Striking despair that you couldn't accept. Because you couldn't accept the loss internally.

This love, your life.

If it wasn't for the demon in your body, he would never see you again.

He would never smile again. He could never fall in love again.

Because he would never be able to forget you.

He was sitting at the table in his kitchen. Playing with the pen that was lying there.

He knew your aura was dark now. That you're not human...

As long as it was you...

However, there was no mistake. It was you.

This demon had the same feelings for him as you had for him.

Even if you're not so shy anymore, and your behaviors were more unkind to others. You were brave, and you weren't afraid.

You weren't afraid of the people you most likely killed yourself for...

You had to be no longer human for him to understand why you were smiling so suddenly sad when he was gone.

He's seen so many times that girls who hit on him come up to you.

He knew it was bad for you. But you managed, and you kept smiling around him. It was great.

However, it got to the point where you decided to disappear from his life forever...

Even if he thought you weren't the same person he loved all along, it really was you...

He loves you so much that there is no other person in the world who will touch his heart in such a way. Never like you do.

Even though you are different as this demon, and no one can deny it, he still loves you.

It's you. You attract him to you like a magnet.

And the thought that you might have cried over what he said made him feel like a complete asshole.

Like he's making you suffer because of your love right now.

He loved you, and he couldn't leave you.

He will accept you as you are now. Because it's still you.

He got a second chance... Because if you hadn't become a demon, you wouldn't be here anymore.

He couldn't tell you that he loves you again.

Everything about you is almost the same. Your behaviors can be demonic at times. But to him, you're still the same.

Sweet, loving and kind. Showing him your feelings.

Just as you would never hurt him, just as he would never hurt you.

Even if there's a demon among you two.

When you heard a knock on your apartment door, you opened it slowly. You honestly didn't want to see anyone right now.

After all, Satoru left you...

But as soon as you opened the door, you suddenly felt something warm wrap around your body.

Your face buried in your chest as you saw the white hairs on the nape of his neck.

Your body was pressed tightly but gently.

Making you slightly melt into Satoru's embrace.

"Toru?"

"I'm sorry..."

You smiled slightly.

"Nothing happened. Everything is fine. You were entitled to it. After all, I'm not the same person anymore..."

"But I still love you. You are my (y/n)..." He murmured kissing your neck softly.

Your instigation with him was to spend an nice night with him.

Your greeting to him was an nice moment in your house.

You couldn't help but touch the other one.

You were drawn to each other.

You wanted to be as close as possible.

As you could run your fingers over his toned body, you could feel your body warming up.

That your cheeks are pink, just like his.

There aren't that many differences between your characters now.

He is shameless. Sometimes aggressive and rebellious. Even if he has good grades. There is no gulf between you now.

There are only you.

You became a demon so that you would be more similar in character.

His character only sometimes fits with demons.

That's why he doesn't mind that there was a demon between the original you and him.

He felt the very familiar softness of your body that he had adored for years. Even if the softness of your body has been preserved, your shapes have changed minimally.

Has anyone seen a demoness that isn't alluring ?

Something nice for him, he has a demoness on his lap with a beautiful body that he liked. It doesn't matter what your body might look like. It was still beautiful to him. Your demonic beauty made something more dangerous about you. From a cute little kitty, you turned into a cat that can pull out her claws.

And he liked it so much.

Even though your moans were the same as you bounced slowly on his hips, hands on his shoulders for support.

Every time he kissed you, his tongue slid over the slightly sharpened fangs in your mouth. When he shared your saliva.

Wet sounds came not only from your lips connecting, but also between your legs as he began to pull you down with his hands. Pushing your hips into his length.

You snuggled against his neck, pressing your soft breasts against his chest. Letting him move your hips.

It was the same body he could always make you shiver. Whenever you were connected during your sex.

Therefore, it doesn't matter what your character is now. How much has changed in you.

He already knows he'll be able to make his beautiful demoness tremble sitting on his cock. Make you cry with pleasure.

And this time, to make you smile at him, moan, and say his name along with the words "I love you."

Because now it will never happen that any smile will be the last one.

Even if there is a demon between you, he loves you so much. Your love is demonic.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojou satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru smut #jujustu kaisen #Demoness reader

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itzalizeyyy · 10 months

Text

𝟑𝐃/𝟒𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

hii, its Alizey again! Back with another void post. You probably already know a lot of these things already. But I think displaying a diagram might help give you a visual and understanding. Without further ado, lets get into it !

I bet many are familiar with the 3d. The 3d is the plane of physicalness. It attains your senses, it attains your sight. So, when you are constantly assuming a desire, and the 3d shows the opposite, of course, it is very human to react to it negatively.

But the solution to that is..stop giving the 3d power. The 3d doesn’t determine your success. You do that all by yourself. You have your own abilities and control. Use it.

Stop blaming the 3d. Stop victimizing yourself. Stop living in a state of lacking and start living in the state of having. Do not give your beautiful attention to the 3d, to the old news, to the old story. That shit is irrelevant. That shit is historical. That shit is ancient. Focus on the now. You can choose the now. You can choose the present. Whatever your assumption is, it is the truth, it is fact, it is the present because you decide it to be so.

Walk into your assumption, accept it as the truth regardless of what the 3d is presenting. The 3d is the past now, so don’t look back, but forward.

I get it guys. It took me about two years to shape and adjust my views. We were all underneath the social conditioning of the CR and its logic. These topics, these concepts, are very contradicting to what know and learned in our whole lives.

“We not actually a human everywhere but an awareness?”

“there is more than one reality?”

“I have the power to change anything?” Etc etc.

But yes, all of these things are true. It may take time to adapt, but once you do and become aware of your power that many people in the world ignore, you really can do anything.

Your sub-consciousness is omg amazing and beautiful and so much more smarter than you. The sub-con is aware of all of your goods and bads in your inner thoughts. It is able to seperate it, and only deliever the goods to the 4d. This is why you don’t see anything negative in your 4d. There is no doubts or fears. Only your wanted assumptions, intentions, and much more.

As you can see, the sub-con and 4d work tightly together. If there is no sub-con, there is nothing in the 4d. If there is no 4d, the sub-con wouldn’t have a plane to deliver your goods.

Of course, the 4d is not a physical plane. But it is in fact our truest reality. But the 3d is a physical plane. The 3d is the embodiment of 4d, it gives the physical copy and reflection of what is stored in the 4d.

Basically this is how I imagine if they had literal conversations:

Sub con: “yo 4d whats up homie”

4d: “nothing much. You got something new for me?”

Sub-con: “you know it. Alright so our person desires to get hammered by their anime crushes. Nothing new.”

4d: “wow. I mean. I support.”

Sub-con “oh wait AND they want to be in the void already.”

4d: “say less. The void be dope.”

Sub-con: “wait hold up. Why the 3d not changing?”

4d: “huh thats weird. 3d girl why you not changing?”

3d: “leave me alone. I am going through it.”

4d: “stop slacking and change dude. This is ur job.”

3d: “stfu.”

Sub-con: “wait I know what happening. Our person paying too much attention to the 3d rather than their own assumptions.”

4d: “ohhh well they need to change it up cause 3d is not worth their attention.”

Sub-con: “fr”

*next day after you start to assume and persist*

Sub con: “ayeee 4d our person got it.”

4d: “ayeee our person is dope. Alright 3d you better obey you mf. You got no choice.”

3d: “f u but fine.”

*your desire show up in the 3d*

*sub-con, 4d, and you celebrating 🥳🥳*

. . .

Don’t get me wrong, if law of assumption isn’t your cup of tea, then you aren’t require to use it! But it is such an amazing and effective tool. But always remember to do things YOUR way and what will benefit you the most.

Hope you guys enjoy and if you any questions or want to chat my messages are open!

#void state #loa blog #lawofassumption #neville goddard #reality shifting #affirmdaily #affirmyourreality #shifting journey #affirm and persist #self concept #living in the end #void

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el-is-away · 5 months

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Breaking into ur askbox like that gif of a cat breaking through a wall

Anyway ask game

Deli: Future, Hate, Midnight, Wound

The Hunter: Fear, Hunt (ha)

Sawyl: Mask, Alone

Wanted to throw in some more but there's already a lot hhhh

thank u!! i scritch you like the cat breaking through a wall you are

Delicon

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

i guess that would be fully succumbing to his want for power. that would mean him continuing to search for people (or monsters) to please, maybe even continuing on his devotion to jormag and not finding something else to do with his life, continuing being a midless zealot. i guess now a normal life, a partner and a job kind of ground him a little bit, so it helps to not think about such stuff. he is complely aware of his violent beginnings and hopes to not go on that path again.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

nowdays deli mostly hates long shifts and nosy customers djkgjf. but in general, he hates traitors and things, that remind him of his past. he tries to such people and things them at all costs.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

visions of past. echoes of a long lost spirit that haunted him. his violent outbursts at gwynne, back in gyala. he is afraid of becoming a monster to deal with. he doesn't think of it often, but when he does, he gets really solemn and just freezes for a while, staring into space. dreadful for him, really. so instead he keeps busy :)

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

he takes physical wounds like a champ. it barely bothers him anymore, esp since his skin (bark?) has become a bit tougher with years of being frozen. he has emotional and mental wounds - betrayal in the past, hardships, outbursts at loved ones. but he tries to keep it all shoved deep inside, ignore it. worst wound? he literally got impaled once and lived through it just out of pure spite that was coursing through his posessed body at the time

The Solemn Hunter

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

meeting brother once more and still being not good enough for him. confronted, he will just be angry, maybe even violent, but out of fear of knowing the truth. he is definitely a hider of all kinds, you will never see him being genuine and sharing whats bothering him.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

a person. still, brother; they were separated because of how much pryman didn't approve of their path of violent beginning. hunter is brittle, unchangable, so he is still riding that violence train to this day, to some extent. even if for a better cause. he is always on alert, cause hes a killeeeeeeerrrrrrr. :)

"Sneaky Oranges" Sawyl

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

no! literally, no. he is as obscene as is. its his nature to be pompous, full of himself, get under people's skin. he loves all of it. the attention, both negative and positive, it fuels him. but he has a softer side; a side, that he shows to his lovers once in a while. a romantic, poetic side, that bards have.

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

he deals with it just fine, but prefers to be in company most of the time. by his nature he is a social butterfly, so being all by himself is just a bummer. but sometimes it's needed: only alone he reaches a truly philosophical mood, where he can write masterpieces.

#oc #gw2 #sawyl #the solemn hunter #delicon strix #ask game

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tewwor · 6 months

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HANEUL'S INN RESIDENTS — ever growing cast of who's found a home within this strange inn.

haneul — sorcerer. if that’s even their real name... ( it’s not ). proprietor of a wayward inn for those lost and in need of shelter. expertly hidden from plain sight and can only be found when led by odd animals that posses glowing eyes. curious enough to step into the establishment? excellent choice, for full satisfaction is guaranteed once your name is added to the ledger. oh, and one last thing — whatever you do, don’t even think about harming them ‘lest you’d prefer to have this as your final destination.

dhrish amin — nightjar familiar . not a single braincell in that pretty head. familiar to haneul, sometimes guides potential customers to the inn, a bundle of energy and surprises — he’s an all around good time with a penchant to get into weird situations. might be a mess but he's fairly outstanding with being a guide to the labyrinth of the everchanging inn. you've got lobby right here, all sorts of magical shops over there, and— oh! right, rooms are up to the left, past supply closet, right, left, left, and right again!

hyun jiah — mythical tiger. the idiom of ‘back when tigers used to smoke’, but literal. part of the inn as a storyteller that can tell tales for days upon end. some even say that the stories this tiger’s come to collect have a sway with truths that can be altered to reality. others say a powerful boon can be traded for one’s life story — though this oftentimes means the tiger will hold possession over that person’s life in some manner. typically cool, calm, and collected but can be kickass if given reason. often seen smoking out of a gombangdae pipe. some claim that the smoke forces them to profess complete truth in their stories, but it only have calming properties. customers claiming to have been tricked despite explicit warnings prior = ransom 🤝 jiah

bu doyun — haetae. coming out of the cage and he’s been doing just.. decent. jkjk, but seriously — he’s the most fickle, isolated grouch around that’s just begun to subject himself to the living world again. serves as hidden security to haneul’s inn — sometimes as a stone figure out front and other times as some random schmuck indoors near the lobby ( always with a frown, always with a comically large bell around his neck ). if you're of the Dangerous variety outdoors then you'll have the honor of seeing him shift into a humanoid form just so he can berate and deter your entrance ( and if that doesn't work.. well, ever have a buff statue hand u ur own ass? ).

ransom — harpy . a being that deals in memories . the only form of payment he takes is by the trade of memories that are of equal value. happy ones are highly sought for( naturally ) whereas sadder ones aren’t as much — though there are some that seek out painful memories for whatever reason. he can even concoct something that can let a person experience a memory they’ve forgotten / never known, but those are the priciest of them all. oh, and sometimes… he eat some memories but you didn’t hear that from me.

beatrice — siren / demon hybrid . singer-songwriter, rockin' with a low voice, charms with laidback ease. any personal history's locked up tight. totally didn't start to lose pieces of mind and soul alike whenever father dearest visits ( which prince of hell is he? i'll never say ) tried not to form relations with anyone prior to residing within the inn, but she struck a deal with haneul and seems to be more open and interpersonal. does leave the inn to eat souls and sometimes makes a mess of it.

warren — fire elemental ( of some sort ). has a humanoid form, but burns hot — sometimes has a keen white edge around their form when enraged. notoriously encased in fully, heavy armor when in combat ( the core of which is themselves liquified into something molten ). ever since the incident that turned his dad to stone, they now take up after their pop’s smithy with a very heavy heart. their practice is nestled near the back of hanuel's inn. anything from weapon, shield, and armor repairs are offered. commissions are only accepted if the idea's extremely well thought out / genuinely interesting.

#* & lore .#// gonna slowly work on slapping this into a cohesive doc

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asteriaas-stuffs · 1 year

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hey dear it is very dumb question but i don't why i think that is stopping me from my manifestation i think soo...i really want to enter into void every time I try i get very close and due to my negative thoughts i am coming back to starting..like something pulls me than my mind wander like if i don't enter tomorrow i will try....like this

And one more thing in my area a movie was released in that movie my fav actor is a hero and i want to experience movie in theatre and due to some situations i can't go so my mind start saying that after u enter void u can go.this is a example..if someone make me hurt and i am unemployed so many my friends and relatives are making me so low u studied u r not doing u r waste like this and i ma not able to take all these thing ...

I know that law is real because all these circumstances made me to find loa ...but i don't how to change my mindset.

Every blog i see everyone say that work on ur self concept and i don't know what to affirm if i affirm i have all my desires and my mind start wander is it enough u get results u r lieing and u know that .....like these thoughts arise i am not understanding what i have to doo.i saw i success story in ur blog that they affirmed i always manifest instantly and i always wake up in void state.. and i started doing that again i get a negative thought that if i don't wake up in void what i have to doo.like thiss i have adhd my mind always thinking thinking ..some times i want to die i get suicidal thoughts like why everyone are happy but why not me..please help me dear ....how i can change this i know self concept but what to affirm i have so many desires like so many .....i want everything i want to live happy ...

Because everyone is trying their best to get their happiness but you're there sitting telling how hard it is. Sorry i might sound rude again listen get up freaking stand up . If you aren't helping yourself then NO ONE WILL . You really don't need logic to manifest anything . No matter what your desires are or no matter how many you have . You freaking don't need it . And you affirm and wander . Even i do but after wandering once i will get back affirming if you can't do this then cry the hell out of eyes because NO ONE will help you . You have the loa to make your life easier and sitting there and crying about every shits . No one will freaking knock your door with your desires without affirming and persisting . Just set an alarm and at that time don't wander around and start affirming . The way your mindset is freaking bad like why everyone is happy not me . Do you know what they're going through maybe same as yours but they're working hard too in their sc . Just do 3 days challenge without freaking wandering around vlogs babe and know that you have the power to change your mindset and then only we can help you . " I have my desires" Affirm it in your head or mouth just anything . And come again with success story again rather than limiting beliefs . I'm sorry for my language and rudeness but it's the truth coming from someone with same past mentality . Hope it helped . And you can do it . Sending love .

#i am god #answered ask #manifesation #affirm and persist #limiting beliefs

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quietlyimplode · 2 years

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oh ok! i was wondering if u could do something that’s sort of like a rewrite of the scene in winter soldier where steve grabs natasha and says she messed up the mission and it like triggers her and she starts panicking and thinking that steve is gonna hurt or punish her for it and he has to talk her down and apologize and he learns a little about her past with the red room. i’d also prefer for it to just be a friendship dynamic! ty again and once again i adore ur fics

(Hey Anon, this is 3/4 of what you asked for, thanks for the prompt, and your words, it’s actually been really fun to write and take my mind off things this week.

In other news, if you know a health care worker, please give them a hug. Things are rough.)

Warnings for vomiting, alluded to sexual assault (not graphic but a thought is there), canonical violence.

Flicker Beats

He looks smaller, she thinks, as he walks to the vending machine.

Maybe that’s what everyone looks like when they’ve had the wind knocked out of their sails and their world turned upside down.

She cares though. With Fury dead, Maria gone to ground, and Pierce in charge, her alliances on this side of the Atlantic is narrowing far more than she feels comfortable.

Natasha sighs, the usb heavy in her pocket as she chews her gum and waits for Steve to realise that it’s gone.

She’d laugh, if the situation wasn’t so dire, at his confused look. She chews absentmindedly walking forward when it becomes clear there’s no one following him.

As the gum pops his face turns from confusion to anger and she doesn’t quite expect the violence that eventuates next.

The force of his hands pushing her backwards through the door and up against the wall makes her suck in a breath. Her hands instinctively move to his arms, but it’s no use against his power.

“Where is it?”

The anger is palpable as he keeps his hands pushed against her. There’s surprise on her lips and searching in her eyes as she tries to see how far he’s willing to push her.

Instinctively, she knows she can’t overpower him to get out of this room, but trickery words will save her.

Disguised with the truth; she tells him only what he needs to know.

“Safe.”

Anger is written all over his face.

He’s already done more than she thought he would, and to think she marked him as safe.

It’s wrong.

“Do better,” he growls.

God knows she’s trying.

“Where did you get it?” She bites back.

It’s obvious, only Fury would have it.

“Why would I tell you?”

Why, indeed.

He tightens his hand on her and she winces, allowing it to pass onto her face. He misses it and she ploughs on.

She can do this, she’s done harder interrogations in more trying circumstances.

“Fury gave it to you, why?”

She searches his face but all she sees is annoyance and enmity.

“What’s on it?”

He answers her question with a question so she meets it with indifference.

“I don’t know.”

She shrugs. It’s the wrong move and it takes all of her training to remain stoic.

“Stop lying.” Steve’s voice is low,

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.”

He looks behind him.

Interesting.

He’s not as stupid as he looks in his rage, he knows they need to move, even if it’s instinctual.

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?” he accuses.

“Well it makes sense,”

“The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you…”

His hands tighten around her arms as he picks her up and pushes her against the wall again. Natasha can feel the bruises on her ribs now, the ones on her arms likely to be worse as all the breath leaves her body.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” he spits.

She can smell his breath. She wants to tell him to stop as he towers over her.

She’s lived with angry men all her life. The trick is to not meet anger with anger, you need to meet anger with surprise.

Angry men can see placation, and usually it derides into more violence.

There’s hand marks on her ribs, probably her back, now her wrists and arms. The last time she was bruised simultaneously in those three positions…there’s a sense of dissociation that threatens.

Hate burns in her, as she brings her shoulders up to protect her neck. If he goes for her throat, she can creat enough space to defend herself.

She needs to get this done.

Interrogation is easy, she tells herself.

“I know who killed Fury.”

There’s surprise on his face as he loosens his grasp. She keeps talking. He won’t understand anyway.

“Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists, the ones the do call him The Winter Soldier.” She pauses, looking at him intensely.

There’s no reaction as she names him, but she feels the cold of her childhood move through her body.

“He’s credited with over a dozen assassinations in the last fifty years,” she pauses. It sounds absurd, but realistically so is the notion of Captain America in her opinion.

“So he’s a ghost story.”

He says it as a statement, and it’s not her words but she can see how he thinks that.

Ghost stories have a funny way of coming from truth.

Finally he drops his hands away from hers but his body is still too close.

If it’s proof he needs, it’s written on her body.

“Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control and went straight over a cliff.”

He’s silent so she continues.

“I pulled us out, but The Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him.”

Natasha lifts her top and shows her scar of survival. Clint had said that they could reduce the keloid scar.

But she didn’t want to. She always wanted to reminder of how hard she fought to survive, the purposeful decision to live and not give up.

It’s one of her favourite scars, and as she shows it, she feels like she’s giving something of herself away.

“Soviet slug. No rifling.”

She pauses and disarms him with a smile.

“Bye bye bikinis.”

There’s more inches between them now, a more comfortable distance as he jokes with her.

“Yeah, I bet you looks terrible in them now.”

She feels she should warn him. As angry as she is at him, there’s pity too. Little tin soldier is not a spy.

“Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried.”

This needs to end, she decides.

Holding up the usb she looks him dead in the eye.

“Like you said, he’s a ghost story.”

Natasha feels sick as he takes the usb from her.

“Well, Let’s find what the ghost wants.”

She wishes that was it. Steve steps back again, and it’s finally enough room for her to leave.

Adrenaline fading, Natasha makes it a point to push past him, and stalk off, trying to gather herself. She hears him call after her but the shaking has become too pronounced for her to stop.

If he’d kept his hands on her, he would have felt it and she would have been pushed further back into the past.

Shaking body, men’s hands holding her down. Her vision whites out as she runs her hand on the wall, feeling for the door.

She can still feel Steve’s hands on her.

It wasn’t his intention.

Hands holding her, bruising her.

She makes it into the next room before vomiting into the wastes bin.

A hospital. She’s in the hospital.

She finds her knife and holds it tight. The hilt in her hand and the blade held backwards against her wrist ready to do damage.

Anger pulses at being caught unaware of his strength and rage.

It occurs to her, that she hates hospitals, but not before another wave of nauseousness washes over her and she vomits again.

The memories of recovery from Odessa, match with memories from being strapped in a cot after graduation. The nauseousness rolls into breathlessness and Natasha’s vision blurs as the last two days catch up to her.

She can’t remember what she last ate, what she’s even throwing up as her mouth feels acidic.

She hears her name as his frame appears in the door way and her sense of danger spikes. She can’t handle him pushing her against the wall again, she can’t even formulate sentences.

“No.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, her body moves faster than her mind.

She holds her knife up in front of her face, elbow bent and blade glistening.

Steve stops, taking her in.

He heard her vomit.

He sees the imperceptible body tremors that flow through her.

And now, as the knife is protectively in front of her, her top rises and he sees bruises; his hand prints where he’s pushed her against the wall.

Wide eyes, he swallows his guilt and raises his arms in submission.

Taking a step forward, she takes a step back.

“I’m sorry, Natasha, sometimes I…” he runs his hands through his hair, wondering how to tell her that he doesn’t know his own strength, that sometimes there’s no control.

It’s not the time though.

“Are you okay?” He opts for.

He notices her glazed eyes, that her breath is coming out in huffs. There’s a wild look as she backs up again.

“Natasha?” He tries again, because he doesn’t know what this is. He’s only seen her as the wise cracking shield agent, that he’s a little scared of.

He knows the rumours of course, and the shear bad-assery she’s known for, but this; this is something else.

It looks like his asthma attacks, or his panic attacks that Bucky used to coach him through.

The knife is still high as another appears, and for Steve it feels like she’s done a magic trick, making it appear out of nowhere.

He thinks all she sees is threat when she looks at him. Which, given the way he just treated her, is a fair assessment.

“Natasha, it’s me, Steve. I’m going to sit down, okay?”

He doesn’t know if she’s heard him, but he perches himself on the empty hospital bed. He needs to make this right, but how can he when he’s the source of her panic and pain?

Natasha backs to the wall and stares at him, the knives stay held in her hands as she lowers herself into a squat.

What has he done? He shouldn’t have touched her. Shoved her.

Yelled at her.

Pushed her.

His mother would be so disappointed in him.

He feels like a bully.

Sliding off the bed, he make it to the floor. He sits just out of reach of her.

“My mother taught me better,” he mutters.

He can hear her try to get her breath under control, he can hear when she holds it, and then again when she lets it go. He’s never seen her look this shaken.

And it’s his fault.

“I used to get into fights a lot,” he admits, “usually with people bigger than me.”

He glances over at her and sees she’s watching him intently. The knives glint.

“I used to think, that if I could fight them, I could show them, I’m not afraid.”

He’s not really sure where he’s going with this, but he thinks if he can keep talking, he can help her; maybe undo what he’s just done.

“I never won, always got my ass whooped… beat,” he pauses, looks over again and smiles a self deprecating smile.

Natasha’s knees are drawn to her chest now, eyes watching him closely still, both knives still in her hands.

“When I got strong,” he knows it’s not the right way to word it, but he can’t think of how to articulate it.

“I’m strong. I forget,” he admits, “that my arms hold strength, that the force is more, and that I have to think before touching.”

Steve adjusts his position and matches hers, knees to chest and looking ahead.

“It’s no excuse. I’m honestly so sorry.”

Whatever he walked in on, whether it was panic or pain or the last couple of days catching up with her, he truly feels that it’s his fault.

The need to protect her feels greater than his anger at the situation that has presented itself now.

He gets up, and the knife is still in her hand as she looks at him warily. Leaving the room, he approaches the vending machine and gets two bottles of water.

Venturing back into the room, he sits back in the same position and hand her a bottle.

When she doesn’t take it, he sets it down gently, and opens the other one, cracking the seal and taking a sip.

She sees his gesture and it’s not lost. He’s now seen a side of her that maybe only Clint knows.

She hates it. Feels the need to expand on what it was he saw, that it’s not wholly his fault, but he is the catalyst.

Technically, she should be able to handle a beating.

She just never thought bruises would come from him, however unintended.

“I always won,” Natasha says quietly.

He turns to face her, and finds only one knife, glinting dangerously as she plays with it. He didn’t see where the other one went, but maybe it’s progress that they’re down to one knife.

The motion is unconscious, he thinks, as the knife seems to move around her hands, possessed.

Natasha breathes.

She uses the knife as a regulator, moving it around her hand, giving her brain something to focus on, to be grounded to.

He’s said sorry and she believes him. Her brain supplies that he’s not to be trusted, and she takes it into consideration.

She needs him; whatever is happening.

Shield is falling.

Shield has fallen.

Natasha’s world is coming apart at the seams.

If she was working for the bad guys, then all the good she’s done…

It’s an existential crisis in her mind that she can’t deal with right now. Just like the death of Fury. She boxes it up and deals with the crisis at hand.

She needs him.

She doesn’t care how self serving that sounds.

Swallowing hard and clutching her knife, she continues.

“Where I was raised, there was no room for losing. You either won or you died.”

She doesn’t need see him to know his reactions.

Steve shifts and it takes all of her not to move away.

“You’re not the first person to push me against a wall,” she tells him, and this time watches his face. There’s guilt, regret, and she thinks she sees shame;

It’s good. His apology is likely genuine. It also means she can use it.

“Nat…”

“I’m okay,” she tells him, and hides the knife.

She is, because she tells herself she is.

They need to get on with things; use the usb before the information is useless. Fury gave them this, and she doesn’t trust Steve to do it alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

She sighs and makes her body relax.

“We need to get to the Apple store.”

Her mind is ten steps ahead of his, and she doesn’t have time or energy to break it down.

“How do you feel about stealing a car?”

(Comments and reassurances that I haven’t completely missed the mark writing Steve would be great lol). Thanks for reading. <3

#my fic #ask away #ca:tws #natasha romanoff #black widow #Steve Rogers #captain america: tws #steve and nat #Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff #read warnings at start

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

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If It's A War You Want

Request: Idea: Sole at the end of Blind Betrayal threatening "You lay one hand on Danse, and you start a war with me!" Can't trust Bethany Esda to write a proper conclusion for my boy Danse, so I trust u cuz ur writing slaps.

Word Count: 2,2027

Warnings: Threats, canon typical violence mentions

It was never supposed to turn out like this.

Sole hadn’t exactly come to love the Brotherhood’s ideology, specifically surrounding their opinions on synths, but it was a means to an end. It was messy, and at times downright infuriating. But Sole never intended to go face to face with them; the priority was the Institute. Once they were out of the picture, Sole intended to enjoy what was considered retirement in the Wasteland, and take up the role of a simple farmer.

Everything shifted once Elder Maxson told them about Danse and then ordered them to kill him. They couldn’t even think to react, to lash out in astonishment or in disgust. They were whisked away and before they knew it, they were being told his location by Scribe Haylen, and off they went. On an assassination mission for one of the people they cared about most in the Wasteland.

Of course, that was never going to happen. The walk to his location left them a lot of time to think. To come up with a plan, specifically. First, they wanted to hear his side of the story. It didn’t matter whether or not he was a synth, but they couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress, the betrayal, the possible resentment. Then, they would get him out. Wherever he wanted to go, they would get him there safely.

There would always be a place for him in Sanctuary. If it appealed, the Railroad could do what they did best, though they doubted he would want to lose what little he had left of his identity. Whatever Danse needed, they were there.

Before long, they were shooting down the turrets outside of the bunker Scribe Haylen said they would find him in, and they crept in, gun held in a tight grip by their side. Sole wasn’t sure what state of mind he’d be in. Whether or not he’d be defensive, whether or not he expected an enemy instead of a friend. He was smart. Maybe he expected Elder Maxson to test them the way he was, to send them after him to prove the loyalty Danse knew had wavered the very first day they stepped on the Prydwen.

There was water dripping from the ceiling, a leak of some sort made obvious from the heavy rains. The incessant dripping grew more and more irritating as Sole took careful steps through the damp hallways, jaw clenched, boots barely making a sound. It was a break in the structure of the wall that opened up to the end of their journey. Carefully, they straightened up, and stepped through the crumbled wall. “Danse?” Sole asked, cautious. They raised their hands on either side of their head in an attempt to appear non threatening.

But when Danse turned around, it was apparent he wasn’t going to make any attempt to defend himself. His gun was across the room, bullets scattered on the floor, magazine a few feet away. “Danse?” They repeated, tone softer, as they holstered their weapon.

“If you’re here to kill me, get it over with. Please.”

“Danse, I’m not here to kill you.”

He laughed, but there was no humor to his tone. “You should be. There’s no way you made it here without Maxson finding out, and if you’re disobeying direct orders….”

“I don’t give a damn about his orders, Danse. You know that.”

Danse scoffed. Yeah, he knew that. They had never been great at taking orders from anyone in the Brotherhood, until he asked them himself. It was obvious where their loyalties lied, and maybe he was selfish, but he had been okay with that. Now? Now, their misguided trust was only going to put them in danger. He knew that if they didn’t take back his holotags, they would be the next to fall. It was the way the Brotherhood worked. He had been a cog in their machine, after all; he knew better than anyone.

He turned away. It was nearly unbearable to look at them, at the hope they had represented for him in the year that they had been around, and the fact that they were looking at him pleadingly, a silent begging for him to go with them, and directly result in their death. “Get it over with, Soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier. Danse. You know I was never one of their soldiers. Don’t make this decision for me, please. It’s hard enough.”

Maybe if he begged them, they would go through with it, and they’d be safe. Of course, Danse didn’t want to die, if the loss of his life even counted as death, considering what had been discovered. But between the options of him living just a moment longer with the hope that he could return to some semblance of normal only for both of them to die, or for him to die for Sole to live, Danse would not hesitate in choosing them every time.

The drip hadn’t gone away. It drove at Sole’s patience as they stood there in silence, waiting for Danse to come to his senses. Or maybe it was them who needed sense, the sense to just move, to grab Danse and drag him away where no one could hurt him again. They nearly fully considered it when he spoke. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

They wanted to laugh, but instead, sucked in a deep breath and tapped their fingers against their thigh. “Have you met me?”

Danse nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He turned and looked at them. “It was a blessing in disguise. More than I knew, in the beginning.”

They found themself clenching their jaw tighter in an attempt to suppress the urge to cry. “Danse, let’s go. We can go back to Sanctuary and figure this all out. You don’t have to stay here and be alone in this miserable ass bunker.”

“Are you sure?”

“Danse, please. Let’s go home.”

It would be a long process, of course. To get him settled in Sanctuary, into a civilian lifestyle, without all the heavy-duty armor and the rigid structure to keep him firmly in place. But he would figure it out, Sole knew; he was much more resilient than he’d ever given himself credit for. They held out their hand and placed it on his shoulder when he stepped forward.

They guided him over to his weapon and loaded it for him before placing it firmly in his hands. “You still need to defend yourself.” The double-meaning of their words hung in the air between them as Danse stared them down. He nodded choppily.

The walk out of the bunker seemed much shorter than the trip in, and to Sole’s relief, they put distance between them and the dripping leak faster than they expected. As soon as they were relieved from one pressure, the next appeared in front of them. Through the thick rain, they could see the shadow of a familiar figure, one dressed in an oversized coat that they had thought many times would go for a high price at Myrna’s. “We don’t have to do this, Maxson.” They had to raise their voice to be heard over the pounding rain.

“You had orders, Soldier. Explain yourself, or I end this now.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. And I’m not your soldier.”

Sole could feel the rage radiating off Maxson. The vastness of his ego must’ve taken a dent from being so blatantly disrespected. “Sole, he’s right.” Danse piped up from over their shoulder, not loud enough to be heard by the leader of the Brotherhood, but clearly heard by Sole. They shook their head and raised a hand, clearly signalling him to be quiet. “See, Maxson. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. I didn’t come out here blind. I knew you were testing me.”

They took a step forward, despite the fact that they felt adrenaline and anxiety thrumming in their chest. God knows the rain wasn’t helping, with the way they had to squint to be sure they had an eye on Maxson’s weapon. “I didn’t leave straight away. I have help, Elder, and I don’t take risks without insurance. I’m sure once you return to the Prydwen, after being unsuccessful in locating both Danse and I, that you’ll find many hidden explosive charges located throughout your beloved airship.”

Danse’s sharp intake of breath was barely audible, and they hoped he didn’t make his surprise too obvious. Of course, they were lying through their teeth; they hadn’t had time to even think before they were being ushered out of the Prydwen on their mission. But Maxson didn’t know that. He had simply sat back in his chair and expected them to clean up a mess that didn’t even exist.

“You’re bluffing.” Maxson called back.

“Do you really want to find out? You lay a single hand on Danse, and you’ll start a war with me. With me and the Minutemen, and while you may have protocols and guidelines, know that I will stop at nothing if something happens to someone I care for.”

Silence. If there was anything Maxson cared about more than being respected, it was the Brotherhood. If what they had said was true, they could turn the entire Eastern branch of the Brotherhood into gory, scrap metal ridden confetti and then follow up with their own, albeit small, army if there were any survivors. They shifted their grip on their weapon and raised their chin; this was the moment of truth. Would they get away with their companion in a nerve wracking scrape, or would they die for their loyalties?

Their heart thudded, even when Maxson lowered his weapon and took a half step backwards. The pressure was off, ever so slightly. “Go. You can return to wherever you came from, but if either of you are seen again-”

Maxson didn’t have to finish. The pair knew exactly how little they had as an advantage, and they were lucky to get as far as they did. Sole managed to not burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and instead gave him a sharp nod before their hand returned to Danse’s shoulder, and they began their departure to Sanctuary.

The first half of their journey was silent. Each was lost in their own thoughts about the situation, about what their futures may look like now that Sole had threatened war against one of the more powerful Commonwealth presences. Danse’s footsteps faltered momentarily just as they made it to Quincy. “Were you- did you actually have the means to blow up the Prydwen?”

Sole, overwhelmed with the confrontation of what they had said, burst out laughing. “God, no, Danse! But I had to think of something. If I didn’t have any leverage we would’ve ended up as ghoul feed.”

Danse frowned. “I told you you should’ve-”

“I know what you said, and it was the worst idea you’ve ever had. Try not to top it in the future, would you?”

The humor fell flat, Danse’s expression barely illuminated by the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. “Look, Danse. I made my choice, there’s no going back, and even if there was, I wouldn’t change my mind. Even if I couldn’t blow up the Prydwen at that moment, I was serious. I would’ve started a war that rivaled the Great War. I still will, if he sends anyone after you.”

“Sole, you can’t possibly mean that.”

Whatever semblance of humor fell from their demeanor. They closed the gap between them and Danse and looked him in the eye. “I know that the Brotherhood may have made you feel otherwise, but you have people that will fight for you, Danse. You have me, and you have the Railroad and Sanctuary now. And it might be hard to believe, but I’ll spend every day proving it to you. Do you understand?”

Danse swallowed. The nod he gave them was barely visible. Stunned. They gave him a weak smile and brushed a strand of his hair away from his eyes. “Let’s go home, Danse.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Paladin Danse #Imagine #Oneshot #Angst #Fluff #Angst with a happy ending #Canon divergence #other tags im probably forgetting

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local-space-case · 3 years

Text

Bakugou Katsuki is Not A Loser

Word Count: IDK

Rated: T (mention of abuse, self-loathing, cursing)

AO3 Account: FerociousFerret (out here only posting first drafts on a whim why?)

When Bakugou sees the looming silhouette of Endeavor at the hospital outside of Todoroki’s room, he thinks he feels a million emotions at once.

Some he’s familiar with like fury, annoyance, and the protective fire he venomously denies exist are the ones off the top his head. But there’s also fear. An emotion he’s embarrassedly familiar with. A deep anxiety clawing it’s way out of his chest while still somehow keeping a tight grip on his lungs. It commands he stay rooted in the middle of the bleach white hallways that even so quiet he thinks they must be louder than he is. He wants to say something. He wants to yell, scream, curse, kick the fucker out the goddamn window, but he can’t.

Until the number piece of human shit takes a step closer to the door.

“OI! You can’t fuckin’ go in there!”

It comes out like the nasty snarl he was hoping for. The pro hero glances at him with a look disdain before reluctantly taking a step away from the door. Bakugou assumes he must not want to cause a scene. Doesn’t stop the stubborn shit from arguing with him though.

“He’s my son, I have a right to visit”. His tone was clipped, formal, placating, like he was delusional enough to think Bakugou was going to lose this fight.

Bakugou Katsuki was not a loser.

“Last time I checked, trash belongs outside not stinking up disinfected air.” He lets his gaze linger on a door across the hall. “Besides, I don’t listen to losers.”

Endeavor seems to puff up like a pissed off cat. God, so that’s where Strawberry Shortcake gets it from.

He looks like he wants to beat Bakugou into the ground and Bakugou lives by the philosophy of ‘If it can crawl, it can brawl.’, so he’s up for anything this fucker has to offer. But he doesn’t, instead he closes his eyes and inhales like he’s having an fucking asthma attack.

“You shouldn’t insult your elders.” Endeavor says after a beat. Bakugou huffs a laugh.

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” It’s an attack and based on the way the hero recoils, he knows it. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows it because it was broadcasted on live television. It was like a car crash, so gruesome but you just can’t tear your eyes away until you see that everyone is okay.

However, like a car crash, it’s abundantly clear that no one in the Todoroki family is okay. But, Bakugou didn’t find out when the crash happened. No, he knew the truth deep down when he saw the unsteady swerves of one of the drivers who had the audacity to essentially give him first place at the Sports Festival.

Bakugou thinks about that moment a lot. Usually at night when he can’t sleep because he feels like someone’s watching him, he wonders what Todoroki saw that snuffed out the fighting spirit he’d paraded around before their round.

He’s young, but he’s not naive. Not anymore. He knows, undoubtably, that during their fight Half ‘n Half didn’t see Bakugou’s drive to win, he saw his father’s flaming fists.

He feels his usual scowl paint itself onto his face, “How does it feel knowing your entire family is afraid of you?” The older man doesn’t say anything, deciding that floor is much more interesting than the conversation Bakugou wants to have. The conversation he needs to have.

“Number One Hero, hah?,” he mocks, “You know, that’s really fuckin’ funny. That’s a hoot ‘n holler. You could be a stand up comic.” he gives a pause waiting for a reaction. He doesn’t get on.

“Too bad they don’t like sacks shit lyin’ around.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question by the way, so tell me, how does it feel knowing your whole family is afraid of you? That you have no friends because you decided you didn’t need them, you only needed to be on top. Well,” a sharp bitter laugh echos through the hall, “congratulations.”

He stalks up to Endeavor and gets up in his personal bubble. He can see a blue eye trained on his own red ones. With a pointed grin, the blond knows he has the man’s attention now, so he keeps going.

“How does it feel knowing that you lost? And before you open that fuckin’ cavity ridden mouth of yours, you’re gonna listen and you’re gonna listen good.” Endeavor had tried to open his mouth to object because apparently the idea of losing something was getting to him. Bakugou could deal with this.

“How can you call yourself a hero after everything you’ve done? How do you do that? How do you sleep at night knowing that the so-called number one hero can save a civilian but fuckin’ torment his family?”

Endeavor is trying to ignore him. He can tell because his eyes are once again back to the floor. He won’t let him though.

“How does it feel knowing that, after all these years, even though you won, you lost.”

Bakugou is, and has always been competitive. He wants to be the best, he needs to be the best, because only the best people can be heros. He’d always adored All Might growing up, but not the same way Deku did.

When Deku saw All Might, he saw a beacon of hope, a peace bringer, an unstoppable force of nature. He saw a role model. A mountain of a man who was as strong as a tiger, yet gentle like a rabbit. Someone who uses their power for good instead of evil.

When Bakugou saw All Might, he saw a winner. A strong man who beat villains into the ground and obtained more money and praise than anyone else could ever hope for in a lifetime. He didn’t see a man, he saw a king who had kept a tight hold on his crown. He wanted to take it. So, yes he liked All Might for his position of power, but he respected Endeavor.

Endeavor may have been the number two hero, but Bakugou saw himself in him. He saw the fights on tv with the walls of fire, the punches, the yelling, he saw it all. Endeavor was not like All Might, he never backed away from a fight, never bothered to try and find a peaceful resolution, but he always won. He won with fiery fists and scowls and he didn’t smile for the press, he wasn’t fake.

Bakugou thought he felt hate for Deku, but now he knows better. This is hate. This feeling in his heart that’s screaming, hurting, burning.

This is hate.

This is hate because he can see his reflection in this monster draped in human skin.

He sees himself pushing Deku away because he thinks he’s superior, kicking, hitting, burning, screaming, he can see it all. He can see Deku become smaller and smaller and he remembers how happy it made him because Deku knew his place and that meant he won.

He sees Endeavor hitting his wife, screaming til he’s blue in the face at Todoroki, his siblings tear-streaked faces when they realize Touya is never coming home. He sees Todoroki’s determined expression flicker with fear before dropping to the ground like a rag doll. He sees Endeavor’s please smirk turn into a sour scowl because his son didn’t get first, he didn’t win. He sees Todoroki sitting in the main area while all their classmates pack up to go home for the holidays with raised hackles and paranoid glances at the slightest noise. He sees what once was Todoroki Touya on live tv telling the whole world his father’s sins and he wants to make him pay.

He sees the ambition, the anger, the low tolerance for anything that isn’t the best, the need to be the best at everything all the time but, Endeavor didn’t win, did he?

Endeavor became the number one hero because his rival fell, but he did not win. He was a martyr to the public, but a monster to his family. He was the monster under bed, the demons in their heads, the footsteps they should fear, and the man they should not love, but worship.

He took and took and took until his family had nothing left to give. He sleeps at night uncaring that his family don’t have a home they have a graveyard full of phantom memories of the lives they never got to live and the dreams they never got to chase. They get the ghosts in the mirror, a walking corpse for a body, and the perpetual state of mourning the love they’d never receive.

Then again, maybe Endeavor didn’t win or lose, because you can’t win a game you aren’t even playing. The moment he insulted, or raised a hand to his wife or children, he was disqualified.

Bakugou knows he’s no saint, but he’s not a loser. He’s worked hard to get his head outta his ass because he already loss. He lost his best friend and any dream filled nights that may have come to him. He learned.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he glances back at the man he’d looked up to and respected for many years. A man he hopes karma kills as slowly and subtly as he had with his family. He huffs.

“Yeah, I don’t like losers. Now, go the fuck home before I call security.”

He backs away but doesn’t leave the doorway as the sack of shit made the right choice and shuffled away. Bakugou makes a noise of satisfaction.

The explosive blond glances inside Todoroki’s room where the staff drugged him up on sedatives and silently wills him to get better. He’ll never say it out loud, but they were friends, and he did care.

(He also fears, that maybe, the news is right about how insanity runs in the family and that maybe he didn’t chase Endeavor off fast enough before Todoroki lost it completely like his mother and brother. Bakugou hopes that maybe he finally did something good.)

The vibrating of his phone jolts him from his thoughts and he reads the notification.

Shitty Hair: hey bakubro we wanted to know if ur still coming to movie night

Shitty Hair: no stress tho!!! a lots happened so we get it if u wanna skip

Another huff of laughter, this time less bitter, escapes from his lips.

He allows himself to smile and tells Kirishima he’s on his way and that they better not start without him. Yeah.

Bakugou Katsuki is a lot of things, but he’s not a loser.

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mirrinbelde-shitposts · 3 years

Note

Heyyy!

Here fr d game!

Umm im guessing ur an pisces mercury*hehe jst types wht comes to mind at 1st

Also i wont mind if u post it publicly or send me privately

Here is my birthchart(tropical)

Lawl SUSPENSE..Hehe

Anw Have a great day/night ahead🤍🥂

Guessing was fun tho..evn if i guessed wrng one💀🤣

Hey!! You did guess wrong, sorry about that xd but it's oki, don't worry about it! Have a good day too ^^

Welcome to your reading. Please remember to send feedback.

First impressions when looking at your chart: you don't have a lot of aspects, but a lot of them are exact: that wedge patter between Saturn, Venus and Mercury is very exact; you have an even distribution of planets among the signs and the houses; also, the angles (except IC) all conjunct planets or points

SUN IN AQUARIUS

As an Aquarius, you are quirky, aloof, dreamy and humanist. People may think you're awkward and detached, which is probably true for you since your Sun is at 0º of Aquarius. Your originality and uniqueness are probably the things you love about yourself the most. Your mind is also quite agile, which allows you to fulfil your dreams. Nevertheless, we cannot ignore the fact that the Sun is in Detriment in the sign of Aquarius. This means that the Sun can struggle here, making you feel confused as to who you are and how you can express yourself. You very much value your independence and your rebelliousness. However, you can be stubborn to a fault when it comes to your thoughts and opinions.

SUN IN THE 7TH HOUSE

The Sun in the house of Libra shows that you really enjoy socializing and that's also where you shine the most brightly. The Venusian influence gives you charm and elegance, which cause people to flock to you. Also, you may show your true colours in relationships, particularly romantic ones. Having someone close to you will allow you to achieve a better understanding of yourself. You do well when it comes to working with others; this placement helps the detached, independent Aquarius Sun to be more sociable and better appreciate others. Also, the Venus influence can make people look up to you and see themselves in you, something that doesn't really happen with Aquarius Suns in generally. You may do well in associations or organizations because you have a need to be in society.

MOON IN CAPRICORN

Once again, you have a planet in Detriment. Capricorn, the sign of Saturn, struggles to feel and voice the emotions they experience. Therefore, it is natural that the Moon finds this sign difficult. You think too much. Perhaps you had a complicated relationship with your mother, which may have caused you to repress your emotions. Capricorn placements, in general, tend to grow up and mature quite early, which leads to unhealthy coping mechanisms; you had to raise your walls up high, so you struggle to let anyone in. You may also be socially awkward. At the same time, you may seek validation from society, which is one of the things that may give you that emotional security that you deeply seek. You should work on letting your guard down; emotions are not the enemy, it's okay to feel what you feel. Let out your inner child once in a while.

MOON IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Here, the Moon is in the house of Virgo (but lying almost on top of the Descendant). There is a strong connection between body and mind. You seek emotional safety through your work and other acts of service; you want to be useful to people and to spend your time wisely. You may be a workaholic. Your routines are very important to you; you can get distraught if someone messes with your daily habits. Your health may be a concern to you, but since your Moon is harmoniously aspected, I'd say you're generally healthy. Nevertheless, watch for any hereditary diseases or problems with food or alcohol. The square with Mars suggests to me that you can quickly let out your anxieties. You like discipline, organization and cleanness; you are determined in the pursuit of your goals. You may have a vocation to work directly with people. Your moods may change quickly.

MERCURY IN CAPRICORN

With Mercury in Capricorn, you speak in a very structured, pondered way. You are very analytical and it shows in the way you communicate. You're a realist, but people may think you're more pessimistic. You definitely tend to be pessimistic at times, as well as distrustful and sceptical. You like to research, to gather information before speaking. You're concrete in your thinking, logical and organized. You take your time to make decisions; you weigh all the pros and cons carefully. Probably not the one to daydream or have many fantasies; you prefer the realistic and achievable. Although you're mostly serious, you can be playful sometimes.

MERCURY IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Capricorn Mercury is similar to Mercury in the house of Virgo. You are probably a perfectionist person, determined and organized. You analyse everything, yourself and your emotions included. You're very critical, especially of yourself. You hold everyone to high standards; once again, yourself the most. Like Capricorn Mercury, you can have pessimistic tendencies. You probably repress your feelings and rationalize them instead. Additionally, your knowledge can progress through daily life experiences and through your body. You should practice meditation and mindfulness because your anxiety and stress may have a direct effect on your bodily health.

VENUS IN PISCES

Venus is exalted in Pisces. This sign is intuitive, empathetic and emotional, which are traits that Venus likes. You feel everything and negative energies really get to you, so it's important that you find a partner that gives you emotional stability. You make a good lover, for you are caring and sensitive to people's needs, especially your partner's. Venus here gives you ethereal, alluring vibes. You can seem almost magical to people. You can be very protective of those you love, selfless; you can even sacrifice yourself for them. You're a daydreamer, you live in your own fantasy world. You have great aesthetic taste and you're quite romantic. However, be careful not to be taken advantage of; your too-good nature can land you someone whose intentions are far from the best.

VENUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Venus here acquires some Scorpio traits, namely the need to get a deep connection with someone. You are a person of extremes, not of middle-terms. In this sense, you can get effortlessly get people to open up to you, to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets. Since the (H also rules other people's money, you may get rich through an inheritance or a good marriage. Also, people may trust you with their money. In love, too, they aspire to learn everything about their partner. You seek transformative relationships, ones that will allow you to experience a different range of emotions, another dimension, even. Casual relationships are probably not your thing. You can get too controlling and dominating, so beware of that. Also, financial security is important to you; you may even have a job that has directly to do with money.

ARIES MARS

Here, Mars is in its rulership. You are quite reckless and impulsive in your actions. You like to be the first, to be the pioneer (much like Aries is the first sign of the Zodiac). You have a knack for leadership and people tend to be happy to follow your lead. You are quite competitive in just about everything; you can have a sour loser. You are quick to get mad, but after you explode, your anger will be gone in an instant. You are great at achieving goals because Mars helps you to stay motivated and determined; you are quite persistent and usually get what you want. You can also work well under pressure. Laziness is not in your blood. Your independence is quite important to you, as are your opinions. You can be quite stubborn and difficult to argue with, simply due to your relentlessness.

MARS IN THE 9TH HOUSE

Your Mars is in the house of Sagittarius. This placement allows you to acquire the necessary willpower for the journey to the expansion of knowledge and discovery. Your actions should help you with the acquisition of further knowledge, as well as ideas and strengthening your freedom. This placement goes against the need of routine imposed by your 6th house placements; Mars here wants you to get out there, be free, have fun, think about life, yourself and the universe. You have strong morals and philosophical ways. This placement may make you strongly seek, hunt, even, the truth of the fundamental questions. On another note, you can develop an attraction to foreign people and may wish to move away from home swiftly and without hesitation. This can be abroad too.

JUPITER IN VIRGO

Jupiter is in Detriment in Virgo. Whilst Jupiter is all about philosophy, the higher mysteries and expansion, Virgo seeks for the concrete, for what it knows, for the logical and rational. Therefore, this placement requires work. You are sceptical, you need to think and analyse everything before you come to a conclusion. Growth is achieved through responsibilities and being useful to others. A bit of idealism would be good, Jupiter struggles in Earth signs. You may think that you know more than you actually do, that you see the bigger picture when that is not true. Be careful not to grow an ego. Your beliefs will be challenged in this lifetime. You have a desire to help people, and in relationships too you want to do everything in your power to aid your partner.

JUPITER IN THE 2ND HOUSE

This placement generally brings good luck when it comes to money and other worldly possessions. You may also like to spend money, more on your loved ones than on yourself. You may be big into giving gifts. In order to reach that emotional security, you may wish to surround yourself with material items that, to you, hold great value and importance. Once you understand how better to acquire that stability, you may become rather generous with your money. You want a comfortable lifestyle. Like Venus in the 8th house, you may be good at managing your possessions, thus causing others to go to you for financial advice. You may not show it, but you have strong philosophical convictions, which may prove to be impossible to change.

SATURN IN CANCER

Saturn is in Detriment here, which makes it four planets in Detriment in your chart. You may feel a strong need for emotional safety, which could manifest as a fear of abandonment. There may also be some emotional blockages present that you struggle to overcome. Saturn retrograde, being the planet of Karma, may difficult your mission in life. You could be stuck on an unresolved trauma from a past life. This may be represented by a figure of authority in this life, perhaps your father. Instead of attempting to reconcile your past, try to accept the world changing around you. You may be too afraid to venture into the world and to open your heart; accept that it is part of life. Find people that give you that security, but don’t pour out your entire soul to them; find a balance. Not everything can be kept in our hearts, but not everything should be shared, either.

SATURN IN THE 12TH HOUSE

This is quite a strong and powerful placement: you have the planet of karma in the most karmic house. Also, according to Hellenistic Astrology, Saturn has its joy in the 12th house. You may be afraid to mess with the subconscious because your emotions may overtake you. Saturn is related to blockages and yours may be due to paranoia, which is characteristic of Neptune and Pisces. You may repress parts of yourself that you are not happy about, which makes you feel better, but, at the same time, paranoia can set in and make you wonder if that is the right thing to do. That aside, you may also struggle with poor self-esteem and doubts about yourself and life. There can be problems of guilt of some sort, perhaps even related to your life itself. It is very vague, but my thoughts about this placement are, in short, that, from birth, there have been deep traumas within you that have blocked your inner peace. What does are, I do not know. ⬛️

#astrology #game ask #my stuff

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thegeminisage · 3 years

Note

wAit i actually do want ur thoughts on how much u think michael was talking total shit i nthat bar

(here’s the post for context)

well firstly i think it’s an interesting juxtaposition between lucifer, the “bad son” who ostensibly doesn’t lie but merely tells uncomfortable truths*, and michael, the “good son” who not only lies all the fucking time, but knows the exact worst possible thing to say to anyone at any given time. I JUST THINK THAT’S NEAT.

(*lucifer lies a lot in late seasons too because of antag decay, but like, the original concept of him was one of uncomfortable honesty.)

michael is willing to lie to get his way and does so frequently - starting with going back on the deal he made with dean, to leave him after they killed lucifer. he also does it when he shit-talks every last one of our protagonists in turn in 14.10, the episode the gifs are from. he starts with jack - telling him he’s nothing but a job, and dean wasn’t sad when he died, when we know that isn’t true (jack is visibly upset by this, which is part of why he chooses to use his powers later; michael successfully manipulated his enemy into doing harm to himself). after that michael goes in on cas, telling him that god doesn’t care about his world because it’s nothing but a failed draft (interestingly, cas is also visibly shaken by this).

then, before sam and cas enter dean’s mind, michael says that he WANTS them to do that - because his body might be all chained up, but in there, they don’t stand a chance. this is also untrue, because the whole purpose of him talking shit in that gifset to begin with is to stall so his monsters can rescue him. dean DOUBLES DOG DARES HIM to snap his fingers and nuke them all, and he doesn’t because he can’t. he didn’t want them in dean’s mind at all. he’s in trouble the whole time they’re in there and he KNOWS it.

as for what he said to sam, dean, and cas - yeah, this was also deeply untrue. the first thing he does is take a shot at cas; he claims that dean doesn’t care about cas, only feels obligated to help him out because of cas pulling him out of hell, and that cas, known fuck-up, is almost not worth the trouble. of course, WE know that isn’t true, and DEAN knows that isn’t true, and, being that cas was just looking through dean’s worst memories a few moments ago, and likely saw his own death there, HE probably knows it isn’t true too. (look at his face there compared to sam’s; he’s quite unbothered by the accusations, but shortly after looks away as though remembering something. the sheer magnitude of the lies michael is telling is what leads cas to figuring out in a moment that what michael is actually doing is stalling.)

michael takes a swing at sam next, and this punch seems to hit the mark a little better - michael claims that dean was happiest when sam wasn’t around so it could be just him and john, alone together, just the two of them. it’s not in this gifset, but he also says “deep down, [dean] knows that you will always abandon him, again and again,” and sam shakes his head furiously.

of course with what he went through at lucifer’s hands, sam has every reason in the world to be afraid of archangels, but i like to think he’s thinking about running away in flagstaff - i imagine the older sam got, the more he began to understand about the differing ways he & dean were abused by john. michael is striking at sam’s guilt for leaving dean alone to go to school, because he knows EXACTLY what dean’s life with john alone was like (more on that in a sec), but he’s also unknowingly striking at that flagstaff guilt. knowing something in your head and believing it in your heart are two entirely different matters - but i think logically sam is emotionally intelligent enough to know, most of the time, that the person at fault for dean’s abuse is his abuser. at the very least, he can be certain that dean was NOT happy when left alone with his father - dean’s neediness has been brought up in this series almost more times than i can count.

but both michael’s attack on cas and his attack on sam are ALSO attacks on dean, because dean will worry that sam and cas WILL think it’s all true - which is why michael says it. sam and cas are there as dean’s support system because dean isn’t strong enough to fight michael on his own. michael is SMART and the smartest thing to do is to drive a wedge between dean and his rescuers as quickly as possible.

dean’s face here is absolutely INCREDULOUS. not only is this evidence that everything michael is saying is wildly untrue, but that he knows exactly how untrue it is - after all, he’s in dean’s head. michael’s goal isn’t to expose an ugly truth, it’s to strike at insecurities and weak points with untruths. the very next thing he says to dean is “you don't need them. you don't even like them. they're not your family, they're your responsibilities. they're a weight around your neck, & deep down, you were desperate to get away from them - that's why you said yes.”

dean goes from incredulous to disgusted in a big hurry once michael starts implying that dean believes sam’s going to abandon him again, and he gets out-and-out angry once michael actually does hit on the smallest kernal of truth - that dean sometimes felt burdened by the responsibilities of caring for his family. i think dean only getting truly angry THERE is indicative of how much bullshit the rest of it was.

...including (told you we’d get back to this) the fact that dean was happy to be left alone with john. as we can see from his face - his “michael-is-lying” face - dean was NOT AT ALL HAPPY that it was just the two of them. consider:

john is a control freak - he expects instant and unquestioning obedience from his sons at all times. dean explains to sam later (and john himself confirms this near the season finale) that john equates control to protection. "dad was never disappointed in you...he was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around." "when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all i could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone, vulnerable." john, in his insane quest for vengeance and in his constant paranoia, wanted to control every possible aspect of sam and dean’s lives.

when sam leaves he’s not under john’s control. when sam and dean withhold information from him (that sam has been having visions) they aren’t under his control. when they talk back or disobey orders (when a young dean leaves the motel room to go to the arcade instead of watching sammy, when sam won’t accept his hunt midseason, when sam refuses to shoot him in order to kill yellow eyes) they are not under his control. even when dean doesn’t take care of the car as he was asked to, he’s not under john’s control. he’s slacking.

and EVERY time this happens john gets angry. he demands to know why didn’t didn’t call about the dreams. he snaps at him about the car. when john came home from flagstaff and found sam missing, he was furious. we don’t know exactly what happened but we can tell it was not good. how much worse would it have been when sam went away for good instead of just two weeks?

i don’t think john’s reaction was as rash as the one in flagstaff - because he knew sam wasn’t dead, and sam’s college dreams weren’t dean’s fault, he didn’t wind up beating dean for it - but i do think it was longer-lasting and in many ways worse to deal with. he basically threw a 4-year temper tantrum that he couldn’t MAKE sam stay. and with one son missing there was just one left to take it out on. again, dean’s abuse is the fault of his abuser, NOT SAM, but no: dean probably did not have a good time while sam was gone.

what’s absolutely twisted about this is that the feeling seems to have been mutual - sometime in those four years, john started letting dean go on hunts by himself. this is explained away in the now-iconic “i’m 26 dude” line but john is such a control freak that it seems unlikely it was a matter of finding dean old enough to have earned his independence. dean could have turned 40 and if john was still alive and hunting yellow eyes he’d still expect dean to go right where he put him. i have a different theory:

dean says in season 14 that john used to send him away from sam when he was angry, so dean associates being split up from them with failure and punishment. it’s very likely that not only was dean NOT happiest when it was just him and john, he was actually SO unhappy that john simply didn’t want to be around him anymore.

hence the incredulous face.

[spn masterpost]

#liz answers asks #anonymous #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #liz makes stuff #long post #sorry it took me so long to answer you my answer got long.#youm ade the fatal mistake of asking me about one of the episodes that ties for my favorite #(this and 5.18)#and btw all of these headcanons are true in #broken road #just so you know. like john'll say it in a couple of chapters: dean made him miserable lmao #what a piece of shit #br meta #kinda

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thisdreamplace · 3 years

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i would like to know your opinion on the eiypo. specifically when it comes to people being abusive, or racist, etc. i see a lot of times some coaches will blame people who naturally are the victims of that & that they created that. personally it bugs me. or say you live in a toxic household, i see how the reflection could be you giving your anger away, but what if you stay calm, & just don’t allow people to affect you? of course the others are still acting those toxic ways, but if you say you’re a victim of that stuff, would you consider that the victimizing that people use when you want someone to act the way you want them too? through manifestation. like i see people say things like abusive people are only that way because you assume it. i understand the whole concept of attracting partners who are abusive cuz u feel you deserve that, & that is something that a person can change so they can attract better & not settle. but what about children? like a child who went through that, couldn’t it just be cuz they were young, it’s not there fault. but growing older they need to take responsibility on there own needs, & surround themselves with more positive people or people that they vibe with better? i hope this made sense, it’s something on my mind, & i’d like to know ur opinion if that’s okay:)

Everyone is you pushed out is really a sensitive concept for reasons such as you explained. It can be heavy. So I will try my best to explain it all.

So right off that bat, eiypo is not a blame game. It's not a "this is all your fault" type of approach. I think people who greatly misunderstand the law often see it that way, and it puts them off. But no, that is a huge misunderstanding. As within, so without. That's all it means. When you speak of "creation" in this way, you're doing so from a egotistical lens. You have to understand manifestation isn't special. It's natural and automatic. Most of the population isn't consciously creating their reality, it's happening automatically based off of their conception of self. So, no one is creating harmful scenarios through choice. It's happening automatically, based of their foundation which I'll explain more later. I think that's important to understand.

Another thing I want to say is you're seeing eiypo through a very law of attraction based understanding. And honestly, the law of attraction and eiypo don't really mix well, for the very reasons you're confused about. You talk about people being victims when they're choosing to be calm but still having to deal with abusive behavior. The mirror of life isn't surface level. The 3D isn't reflecting your actions, it's reflecting your core concept of self. Your core beliefs that live within you. So it doesn't matter if you're nice, quiet, and calm on the surface. If you think people can be abusive and you feel insecure or unsafe on a deeper level, well you may end up experiencing that type of undesirable circumstance. Did this person ask to experience that? No. This isn't about victim blaming and keeping that mindset isn't helpful for anyone. However, the 3D can only show you what lives within you. That's the way the mirror works.

And then you talk about people attracting certain types of people. Once again, that's a misunderstanding of eiypo and it's sounding very law of attraction based. You're not attracting any type of person. It all goes back to life being a mirror. When you hear someone say that "people show up how you assume so" it's a literal statement. So, the truth is, no one is this horrible type of person. Everyone, at their core, is love. What happens is, based off your self concept, you may manifest an unlovely version of a person. Is this person showing up abusive because that's just who they are? Nope. They're showing up that way because on some level, you assume that type of person exists and you believe that's a possibility for you to experience. The difference between what I'm saying and what you're saying is that, if you wanted that person to fully change, they would. If you went within yourself and decided "no, I am worthy. I only experience lovely versions of people. I am deserving, the people around me treat me with respect, etc etc etc" That person you once called abusive would change with you. They would become lovelier, nice, more caring, and respectful. They have no choice but to mirror your inner world. Because the more you choose love, the more you allow the illusion of fear based experiences to dissolve and you allow love to shine through. Because that's the real meaning of everyone is you pushed out. It's not a "you attract what you are." Instead, you experience what you are, within.

It's not about manipulation. You don't need to say a word to anyone. You change yourself within, a real change. And you know that since eiypo and this world is a mirror, everyone and everything in it has to reflect this change. It's a lot more deeper than just attracting certain types of people and that mindset allows you to keep avoiding full responsibility. You're not going to run from undesirable people, if you're choosing to keep believing undesirable people exist. You're always going to be met by who you are, as this world is a mirror. So why do that? Choose to believe in lovely things for yourself and for everyone.

When it comes to children, once again, it's not a blame game. Especially when it comes to children. How can anyone even think a child is choosing to manifest something undesirable? That's so weird to me. Most people don't even know the depths of manifesting, let alone a child knowing it. As a child, you're simply more subject to what is happening around you. Of course, no child knows any better. Through our childhood experiences, we begin to build our self concept which leads to the world we manifest automatically. That's all. Jen from I Am Love says that, when our Godself decided to come to this life, we already agreed to go through everything we experience. So therefore, once again, no one is at fault. It's not a blame game. We are put into these experiences at birth and eventually, the point is that we are meant to remember who we really are. We start dissolving all these illusions we thought were real and begin taking back our power. We dissolve this illusion of reality.

So to be clear, no one is purposefully choosing anything. Even we are ourselves pushed out. What happens is that, on a certain level, people believe bad things can happen and bad people exist. In that way, we become open to undesirable experiences. It can be that unspecific. It's not about seeking out more positive people that you vibe with. It's about understanding none of that is real anyway, behind every unlovely circumstance is love, and it's up to us to allow those unlovely illusions to dissolve. We do this by remembering who we truly are, God of our reality. Everyone is you pushed out, means ultimately, there is no separation between us and others. We are all one and connected. This is why people mirror us at all. Because ultimately, they are us.

So further, there's not even a point in wondering about other people and what they're manifesting or how. Because this world is a mirror of you anyway. You're going to be stuck in a trap of assuming and wondering about others, and you're never going to get a concise answer because it's all just mirroring you anyway. So focus on your own world. Focus on lifting yourself up and lifting up everyone around you. Make your world heaven on earth, because you have that ability. Rather than continuing to perpetuate undesirable experiences because you think people are separate from you. They aren't.

I hope this clarifies things for you and helps deepen your understanding of what eiypo really actually is. 💖

#eiypo

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someone-worth-racing-for · 3 years

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Hey just read ur opinion on those who are really mean to Carlos (or any other drivers )and I couldn’t agree more .For me personally ,I’m a huge fan of Carlos and Max so it breaks my heart every time some haters throw bad words to them.But I just have a theory here that maybe harsh to some people (sorry if it bothers you or anyone I didn’t mean that)I’m really surprised at how fans power influence others opinion on certain drivers. a bit like Collective unconsciousness actually when u HAVE TO hate the drivers cuz others do.It’s somehow unfair as drivers who have more fans tend to be more easily welcomed with anyone.Sometimes people go like it is what it is BUT IT IS NOT .EVERY ONE SHOULD LISTEN TO THEIR HEART AND WHAT MOST PEOPLE THINK DOES NOT HAVE TO BE RIGHT.on the other hand, I’m really passionate about the races and I get really angry with them if drivers I like didn’t drive well.and I guess someone who says they hate the drivers because of some vibes are just making excuses of jealousy even without recognizing it.At the same time ,they use large numbers of fans to make it sound like valid ,it just not right .Also,they make meaningless comparisons trying to prove their drivers are better meanwhile I was trying my best not to be distracted by their thoughts.

Don’t get me wrong,everyone can hate Carlos as long as u have a proper reason (I accept the truth he is not the most well-behaved on the grid 👐🏼

Please stop hating Focus on the ones u love ❤️

Will u be so kind to share ur opinion on it?

U don’t have to answer if u don’t feel like it

Again, I sincerely apologize if u are offended by my words,that’s the last thing I wanted to do

English is not my first language so sorry for the language mistakes XXX😂

Thank you for telling us your opinion @datgyalyvie and of course I will answer your message (don’t worry, English also isn’t my first language) And I also really wasn’t offended about any of your words, because you stayed respectful all the way.

Like I have already said in one of my posts before - I think that many people who hate now/have canceld Carlos only did so, because they have seen other people (maybe their friends) doing so, without questioning it or think about it for more than just one second.

I also know that there are still many people out there, who actually still like Carlos, but who are too afraid to say so, because they fear that some accounts here (once again maybe some of their actual friends) could ‘cancel’ them as well for likeing the wrong driver.

And that’s just silly. We aren’t in the kindergarten anymore. Everyone can have their own opinion and I really ask myself if those friends are real friends, if they would really cancel your friendship because you don’t agree with them!?

You just can’t like everyone, that’s simply impossible, but that’s also okay, as long as you stay respectful. And also once again I really don’t get it why so many people seem to find join in talking/hating about someone the whole day long. Doesn’t it make them depressive? Why don’t they just ignore the ones they don’t like, go on with their lives and focuse about something that makes them happy and causes a smile in their faces? Everyone’s life would be so much easier, if they would do so. But I think many just love the attention they get with it and also to have the “power” over people, when they tell them which driver they are suppose to hate and which one they are still allowed to like.

I’m not the biggest Daniel nor Seb fan, but do I talk about that every single day why I don’t do so?! No - because I don’t see the point in it. I really prefer to talk about one certain Spaniard I really, really like the whole day long (Can you maybe guess which one I mean here!?) It just brings me way more joy and I think it’s also better for my mental health. But yeah, that’s just my opinion. Many people seem to see that different, but I doubt it will work for them and their health forver that way. So, it also obviously works the other way - I don’t have to like someone because so many others like him. I just have my own opinion. And for the record, I have said I don’t like them and NOT that I hate them.

If you really felt personal attacked about whatever Carlos has done/said in the past, then I can really understand it why you don’t like him anymore - as long as you stay respectful. Just leave him be, ignore him and go on with your life, you just can’t change everything or everyone. I mean, it’s also alright to call someone out (as long as it’s not here, because it probably doesn’t make any sense to do so here, because I really doubt that any of the drivers will ever see it here on Tumblr), but after you have done so, please just go on with your life. Do yourself a favor and also your mental health with it.

So, I just wish for everyone to listen to their hearts, instead of what other people say, go your own way and do the things that make you happy and not what other are expecting from you.

Stay positive and respectful people! It’s really not that difficult.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz

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delicrieux · 4 years

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Omg I loved the last one shot you wrote with the reader being in the resistance base and taking care of Kylo! I would love to see another part for it and see what will happen when the reader discovers the truth of who he is.

OMG ur one shot with kylo and him being injured i absolutely adore it and need a continuation !! ur writing is amazing too !!

thank u everyone for ur kind words and support 🥺🧡 u be asking i be giving . i mean .... prepare for some angst? yes? 8k words baby. also, same goes as always, if u want a continuation let me know ! xx

tags ( i wasnt able to tag some people!:( ): @taina-eny -- @shesakillerkween -- @leilei-draws -- @mitsuhkai -- @olivebolivee -- @fav-fan-fic -- @punxataniunderworld

requests are open! | masterlist | part 1.

Long tendrils of smoke rise slowly, spiraling into a clear, starry sky. Jet fuel ignited by a match; angry, red sparks glittering in the dark. It’s hot. Though it’s not the familiar, comforting heat of the wilderness, of the jungle you live in, nor is it the scratchy, dry heat of the deserts you grew up surrounded by. This heat is different, molding, tangible and felt deep within you. It spreads, achingly almost. Shortness of breath, of thought; the world is too quick, too fleeting for you to catch up and everything spins so wonderfully. Desire; the world is wax dripping from your fingers; red dots, red hues, bright orange flames. But that desire twists, rags your body and grows to...

Rage. It hits you in waves and you tremble. Violent shivers and horror; anger fueled by such uncontrollable passion that it goes beyond you, reaching for something, for anything to grasp onto. It destroys. It destroys everything around you. It’s a machine coming from within you; the small specter of purity now devoured by such hate directed at no one in particular that you come undone — nothing left, not even you. Just anger and power — a combination of the most terrible kind.

But this rage is not your own. It’s borrowed. Adapted to you. Fitted perfectly for your flesh, yet still a foreign entity latched onto your bones, no, this goes deeper, latched onto whatever makes you — you.

It is so easy to slip into it that it hardly registers. That raw energy within you twists and burns and you want to hurt someone because you are so hurt that you feel like you might die. One life to save yours; then, however many should follow, anything to keep that pain at bay. You don’t consider it much, you don’t have the capacity to. Blisters; it feels like you’re standing on the surface of a sun.

Where did this anger come from? Who deformed you so horribly? There’s a pull — a gentle tug that feels like a caress from a lover — that wants to turn you back; to purge the rage, the red, the dark, and bring you back into the light. But the pain stays, persistent, at home within you. It’s trying to tell you something. To make you understand. To make you feel what he feels.

And then—

You fall out of bed, breathless and terrified and soaked head to toe in cold sweat. You scramble away from your bed in blind panic, trembling and pressing your back against the icy wall of your bedroom. Your heart beats like a wild drum; your pulse is loud and violent in your ears. You raise your hands to touch your face, to grasp onto reality, to make sure that you are still you. A sigh of relief escapes you and all your energy with it. You slump, cast your head down in shame. You had never felt so... Strongly. You had felt anger, grief, passion— but never so visceral, never so raw. It terrifies you that you are even capable of feeling so, in a dream or not.

Whatever it was that had possessed you had left you feeling hollow. Numb. All your strength had been wasted in destruction of dream worlds that were, up till now, mostly pleasant. Whatever it was you don’t want it to return, ever. The pain was too much. The hate too real. And the potential of that power... Frightening beyond compare.

Your room is bathed in pleasant morning light - dawn is always beautiful and silent. You had slept for possibly only a few hours. You get up, your knees cracking from the weight of your body. Using the wall for support you decide to get ready. You will not sleep. You cannot. The carnal fear of the darkness behind your lashes is reminiscent of that of a child seeing scary shapes in the night.

You’re early to breakfast, though the cafeteria is already festering with life. You give a few waves to your colleagues, offer a few tired smiles when they chirp “Morning, Seven!”. With your tray full you stride to your table, noting that one seat is already occupied — July. He regards you with cold indifference, quietly drinking his coffee. If he is surprised to see you up so early, he does not show it.

Suddenly you hate the silence. The stiffness. The cafeteria echoes with snippets of chatter and laughs yet your table is a crypt — stale and uncomfortable. You can’t be alone with your thoughts. They still don’t feel like your own.

“Hello,” is your lame attempt at conversation. July grumbles something, chewing on his food, “decided get an early start today.” You explain yourself, not that you need to, but you feel better letting him believe this lie and yourself, too. “Taking pointers from you.” You add, taking a sip of water. It feels like a blade going down your throat. You hadn’t even noticed how parched you had been.

“Great,” July mumbles, “congratulations. You’re finally taking this seriously.”

“I’ve always taken this seriously.” You bite back, “War is no trifling matter.”

He snorts, “Could have fooled me.”

You don’t like his tone. Then again, it is your fault for engaging him in the first place. No one to blame but yourself.

In an attempt at casualness, you shrug, “You are still mad at me for not getting rid of our guest, aren’t you?” You don’t say his name. July would find it suspicious. You don’t dare share it. It was a secret passed on to you as a show of trust. You can’t break it, not even among friends.

A frown pulls on his face, cool, steel eyes locking yours, “You’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He is not the enemy.” You reply coolly, chest heaving with controlled frustration, “I conducted the interview. I did what we had all agreed on. I relayed the results and you were part of that discussion as well, if you had forgotten already. No threat was detected.”

“At the time.” He says hotly, setting his cup down harsher than intended. It echoes, a cracking, unpleasant sound, “There was no threat at the time.”

The wild flame in his eyes takes you aback. He had always been paranoid and it mostly never had any backing to it. But now he speaks with conviction; grits his words and laces them with honesty. He knows something. Something you don’t.

You sit up straight, swallowing down your concern before it reaches your face. “Elaborate.”

He looks away suddenly, irritated, scowling almost. Familiar tendrils of anger slither around your throat and your grit your teeth. You know better than this, better than arguing with him, better than stooping to his level of mindless shouting. It takes all of your willpower just to keep your mouth shut.

“Ah— Someone stepped out of bed on the wrong foot, as it seems.” Q’s pleasant voice chirps as they promptly plop down beside you, “Seven. July. Do hope the arguing will at least wait till lunch.”

“Fat chance!” Vendetta grins, sitting beside July and dropping her tray on the table with a silent click, “Look at them.” She snickers, “I know who’s fighting who at combat training today.”

“Perfect timing, you two.” You blur, your eyes drilling into July’s profile, not once wavering, “July just said something interesting about our guest.” The temperature, the warmth your two friends brought with them, seems to drop as their laughter abruptly cuts off, “In fact, he was almost insistent that our only patient in the Medical Wing is a threat. Know anything about it?” You finish quietly. You almost expect exasperated stares, surprised faces, hisses of “What?!” and “July, not this again...”. But nothing changes. Nothing comes. Just quiet admission. First blossoms of guilt.

You had always assumed that if your group of four would ever break into three it would be July as the odd man out. Not for any particular fault of his, but out of pure convenience. Vendetta is charismatic; Q is adaptable; you are compassionate. July is, despite his brilliance, almost deliberately difficult. The three of you fit like puzzle pieces, harmonious. You never withhold information from them, never needed to. The four of your share everything, no detail left behind.

Though it seems that your observation was paltry. They share looks and you realize that it’s no longer a quartet but rather a triad. You are left to sink or swim on your own.

“Seven, we...” Vendetta starts, thoughtful, gentle; her hand reaches for your own across the table but you pull it away and she stills, disappointed, “We...” She glances around, “We were going to tell you, but...We...”

“—Had no proof.” Q mutters bitterly, their face uncharacteristically blank, “Besides, of course, the mystery of his past, his sudden appearance, his... Unpleasant behavior.” They squeeze out the last part with a sour little smile.

“Seven, please, listen to me.” V tries to catch your attention, yet you stubbornly stare into your plate of food, “There is just...Something not right with him. It’s like this inching in my chest, I...I think I heard him...talking in his sleep again. Something about a base, but I-” At this you look up at her, and her face crumbles into a soft frown. “I would never lie to you, you must believe me. I just--“ She sighs, frustrated, “I just don’t know what, but something is wrong. I can feel it.”

“I told you not to trust him,” July states, “I said it since you—“ He points accusingly in your direction, “decided to drag him in.” He scoffs, “Should have left him to die.”

Something cracks within you. Something that sounds close to a ceramic cup shattering on linoleum. It spills over like hot liquid all over you, scalding. You pull your chair back suddenly. It’s a knee jerk reaction that halts the chatter and the laughter and the mindless bits of gossip as all eyes turn to you. You say nothing. Just stare. The unspoken “How dare you” fizzling at the tip of your tongue that now feels too big for your mouth. Your muscles cramp up; dull pain in your upper arms, your legs, your chest. You’re trembling again, eyes wide, dry, stinging.

“July.” Q hisses, “Even if we feel something amiss, he is still a person.”

You remember it clearly — the evening you met July. He wore a hard shell, scarred from life before finding the base, before finding a purpose. He was hard to approach and those who dared to glance at him withered away into the shadows. But you saw a glimmer of hope, of light; saw something in a man that has been wronged and has done wrong and now wants to devote his life to protect. He regarded you with the same cold stare, measuring you, challenging you to turn away like everyone else. But you invited him. You were the one that said that the Resistance is happy to have you. You were the one to offer him a seat by your table, Vendetta chirping and blushing and cooing once he joined. And even if he stayed silent through the conversation, you knew that he was glad to be here. Glad to find companionship. Glad to be among those who too want only one thing: to help.

Then came Q, a year later. A group that was equal amounts tough as it was tender was formed. A group of leaders. Nothing ever felt so right as to sit among them.

Now you feel like you’re drowning.

“You’ve changed.” You rasp, boring into July’s eyes. He does not back down, he never does.

“So have you.” He says evenly, “I have never seen you as irritated as I have this week. It’s affecting you. He’s affecting you.” If you did not know any better, you would say there’s a note of worry in his voice. But you always know better. It’s pity.

You decide that you hate him. You decide that you will never be able to look at him the same way, with the same distant respect, with solidarity. You hate him and you hate that he’s right. You have changed. Everyone has. You aren’t the scared, naive girl that ran away from home in hopes of finding something greater. Greater as in friendships; greater as in happiness. It was never about riches or fame or any other form of empty opulence. You wanted to help because you knew how it feels like to be helpless. And perhaps this week had been the most trying: you had been sleeping little, tossing and turning all night, staying up past dawn as to not draw any suspicion. Had been hitting harder than necessary in training. Had been less lively in conversation. You were one of the best because you needed to be in order to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was the source from which you drew your strength. But now that had shifted subtly in wanting to win. Wanting something for yourself. You always offer everything to the world, why can’t it give you something in return?

“That’s enough, July.” Q mutters calmly, their hand landing on your shoulder, a warm, comforting gesture that fills you to the brim with sadness. “You had said enough.”

You exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to collect your thoughts. Honesty had always been your policy. Honesty is the currency of your group. You are fighters, but you are also diplomats. Vulnerability is the price of compassion.

“I feel responsible.” You finally say, “For him.” You clarify, “I brought him here. I enlisted you to help and share our resources. He is my responsibility. And if you feel that he is unfit to be here, or that he threatens our values in any way, I shall make sure to deal with him accordingly and I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions should it come to it.” You finish dryly.

“He’s not your responsibility, Seven.” Vendetta mutters, “He’s ours. We’re a team. A family.” Q squeezes your shoulder, silently agreeing with her words. Her lips slowly rise into a loving smile, “And we’re worried about you. You seem tired. Let me bring him food today.” She suggests gently, “I can keep him company. That or, I know Michel is dying for a chance to talk to him.”

“You don’t have to carry this weight alone.” Q says, “A little break can’t hurt, can it?” He glances at July, “Once our heads are cooled...We’ll discuss this in detail at dinner. No stone left unturned. If the decision is unanimous, we bring it to the Commander. All in favor?”

“Aye.” Vendetta chimes. You nod stiffly. All eyes fall on July.

“You already know what I think.” He mumbles, “But very well. We meet at twilight.”

The day is long. Hours pass in a slow daze and exhaustion nearly crushes by the time a little over two hours is left till dinner. Dread grows and fester; it’s hard to breathe, and the humid air is constricting. You can’t help but feel how different things had been barely a week ago, and how rapidly and uncontrollably they have changed. It should be just another day in stolen paradise; just another day in the line of days before you are, as the rest, called into the main base. Finally ready. You had felt ready. Now you feel uncertain to the brink of madness. How easily your friends had turned... How easily you had been turned. But despite their concerns you fail to see any hidden evil in the man now know to you as Ben.

But perhaps that’s the point. Evil rejoices in the presence of naivety.

You feel him before you actually see him. It’s a sort of warning bell; a presence carried by the wind. You turn your head slightly, wiping away beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You’re on the porch, in the same spot you had found Ben brooding last night. His footsteps are quick and heavy and his hand latches onto your upper arm, yanking you to face him.

“Where were you?” His question is demanding and a twinge of anger burns in his hazel eyes. All thoughts rush out your head with that; you stare dumbfounded, your lips parting to speak but the words sizzle and die on the tip of your tongue. His face contorts, the prominent anger shifting to confusion, “Have they been keeping you away from me?”

An astute observation. Eerily correct.

“What? No!” You say quickly, shrugging out of his hold and crossing your arms over your chest in pretend casualness, “Just been busy today! Lot’s of shipments, new training regime, yada yada...” He traces your face carefully for a lie, but whether he catches it or not you can’t tell. “How... How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He states coldly, irritation dripping in his tone. His brows knit into a frown and he looks away, peers into the wilderness. Pensive. Something lays heavy on his mind and all your intuition born last night evaporates. Nothing. No whispers. Not even a slither of familiarity. The connection you felt had been cut like a thread with scissors.

Is he actively pretending yesterday did not happen? The thought sounds plausible: he’s volatile and prideful, after all. “What are you doing up and about?” You inquire, matching his cool tone.

He exhales through his nose sharply, “Can you take me to the place you found me?”

You blink. He looks at you, expectant. “I...Sure.” You relent under his stare, “Yea, I... Follow me.”

Silence from his part. His lips are shut tightly as he follows after you into the maze of tall trees. Birdsong; buzz of insects; dangerous hums and hisses from creatures hidden in the bushes. The sun is merely a kaleidoscope of shapes seeping through the branches and leaves. The heat intensifies. You feel a prickling in your spine -- he’s watching you intently. His guard is up and so is yours. After everything you had heard today confusion is the only palpable emotion you can name. Can he see it, you wonder. Can he tell that the tension in your shoulders is because of him. You trust him, at the very least, you thought you did. But now he’s luring you into seclusion.

Or are you luring him? You could have said no. Or you could have agreed and went to fetch your blaster just in case. But you didn’t. Obeyed blindly without question. He is not the authority here, you are.

“That woman brought me breakfast today.” He says coldly. You tilt your head to him, inclining him to continue. That woman. Vendetta.He doesn’t continue. It’s almost like he’s complaining.

“Yes, I asked her to.” You say softly, “I told you already I was busy.”

“You didn’t look busy.” He counters hotly.

“Ben.” You say sternly, stopping, turning to him fully to catch his gaze. He’s so much taller than you that it’s difficult to not be intimidated, “My world does not revolve around you.” He gulps at your words, glaring, “And her name is Vendetta. The least you could do is remember that.”

You continue the trek forward. He’s silent, moody. You focus on not tripping on roots and stray branches; focus on keeping your balance once passing through small slivers of ground between sudden drops to the caves bellow.

Finally, a clearing. Water flows and twists like a serpent, glimmering in sunlight, splashing joyously. The river is long and wide and there is no bridge connecting the two sides, just piles of slippery stones. It’s a challenge getting past it, yet you did so almost every other day. The beauty of untamed nature cannot be compared to anything, and getting lost in it is liberating.

You hop on the first rock, then the second. The water is loud; the current is strong and it splashes your feet.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks silently. You jump and feel the knot in your throat tighten. You wobble and your arms stretch wide to keep balance and you promptly still.

“No, Ben, I’m not angry.” You admit, a bit breathless, but don’t elaborate any further. You are not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. You don’t want to think about it.

“Did you really find me so far out?” He continues questioning.

“Yes.” You mumble, “Why? Do you think I’m lying to you?”

“I never said that.”

“But you thought about it.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now?”

“It’s not that difficult to tell what you’re thinking, you know.” You state sharply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You still. A flare of anger rises from your chest to your throat and it take everything you have to control the frustrated sigh from escaping. Your hands ball into fists. Sweat drips from your forehead. With a dry mouth you turn to him, careful of your footing, finding him closer than you expected and just as irritated as you. His brows are kit into a frown, lips turned downward, chest heaving. A soft breeze kisses your heating cheeks, your shoulders, ruffles his dark hair.

“Exactly what you think it means,” You snap, “you’re always angry, always displeased, ordering everyone around, assaulting” You stress the word, “ or berating if something doesn’t go your way. Being secretive and malicious and just when I think I’m starting to understand you, you demand and demand and I literally can’t say anything or else you’ll be upset and then who knows what you’ll do.” You rant, “And all I wanted, all we wanted, was to help you. But you-” You jab your finger into his chest; an action eerily similar to what July did to you this morning, “-you treat us like we’re your servants. Can’t even bother to remember the name of the doctor that had been taking care of you all week. We could’ve left you to die.”

He grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly, pulling it away from his chest, “I never asked for your help.” He growls.

“But you got it anyway,” You retort, voice dripping with venom, “though I suppose you’re too arrogant to even say thank you. You spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate prick-”

“You don’t know me.” He seethes.

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

He falters for a second, something akin to disappointment flashing in his eyes but it’s gone before you can name it, “You do?” He sounds smug, in a cold, displeased way, “Ah, you do.” His grip loosens and you yank your wrist from his hold, fire raging in your chest. What a condescending look.

You’re so heated that you feel like you might cry. Now you see what July, what Q, what Vendetta see when they look at him - a malevolent, resentful asshole. How could he have fooled you? Was it the pretty eyes and the confused puppy-like stare? His sharp handsome features? Low voice, pleasant when whispered? All a font. You feel ill. Tarnished in some subtle but irreversible way. You don’t want to take him anywhere, you just want him to leave. A part of you wants to run away and leave him stranded, or push him into the water and watch satisfied as the current carried him away.

You genuinely believed you had formed some sort of a connection, as silly as that sounds. You hadn’t known him for long, but what you felt was real and it was special. But this is not the same man that did not let go of your hand, that did not want to left alone in the rain.

You shake your head, “You make me sick.”

He has no reply to that. He looks away, almost ashamed, and you turn back to the stones you stand on, the slippery rock unstable under your feet. The sky lights up with first shades of pink. Twilight is approaching.

The sooner you take him there and back the sooner you can request him to be escorted out of the premises, taken where he needs to go. And then this will all be over. He will be nothing but an unpleasant memory. The thought does not make you feel any better, rather it makes you feel hollow, like a balloon, acutely aware of the emptiness within you.

You continue forward in ill-tempered steps. You just want this to be over. His presence clings to you like second skin. Electricity at your fingertips, coursing through your veins, settling in your bones. You cannot shake it, cannot shake the hurt and the discomfort and-

You slip. For a heartbeat there’s only looming dread but before you can touch the water strong arms envelope you and keep you in place. You feel him breathing behind you, his chest rising and hitting your back. He sets you down back on the rocks, letting go only after you’re out of harms way. His arms drop and the heat with them. Wordless, you continue forward, not sparing him the satisfaction of a thank you.

You suppose wishing for an uneventful journey is unrealistic; trekking through the dense, suffocating undergrowth, fighting through the heavy, still air, all the while a million wild souls observe and track you and wonder are you here to hunt or be hunted. The colors, deep evergreen and rich brown, mute once the sun is is orange and halfway down. Not far now, not far at all. That idea was the only thing keeping you from crumbling into the dirt. But today is not your day, nor his. Everything always happens for a reason, even if that reason is simply bad luck.

You had been lost in your head, and he lost in the maze of looming trees. He’s unfamiliar with the territory - you were his guiding star, ushering him to where he needs to go. But you were too absorbed; too preoccupied with your blossoming hurt, with the near obsessive need to feel it whole so you could never forgive him and not feel an ounce of it once he goes back to his damned life outside your base. But the jungle is an obstacle course that demands attention and worship. Each step careful, each parting of leaves intentional and gentle. It either allows you to advance, or it does not.

You have no one to blame but yourself. No one to curse at for the forming bruises and muddy skin. No one to yell at for the stabbing pain at your rib cage, and no one to shun because of one fatal mistake. A misstep. A confusion of left and right. The fall was instant and painful and long.

Birds gawk and spill into the violet sky like ink. You lay in the dirt, your body aching with each intake of breath. Water roars; small droplets from the waterfall sprinkle on you and you wonder just how far down had you fallen. The clearing is unfamiliar to you, but right now everything is. Ben groans beside you; you see him sit up slowly out of the corner of your eye. He pushes his hair out of his face and exhales. You can’t move. You forgot how to.

You feel cold. Something hot and sticky runs down the side of your temple, pulsing down your jaw.

“...Seven?” His voice is rough and rushed and he instantly falls by your side, his hands cradling your face, “Hey. Seven, can you hear me...?”

You remember the leaf covered ground giving out; remember falling into darkness and hitting your back harshly on the steep decline and skidding through sharp rocks and branches; remember suddenly being plunged into icy water and spat out into the air before tumbling to the ground and smacking your head into something hard and blurry.

His fingers gently wipe away the dirt from your face, “Hey, you with me...?” He calls gently, his voice silent, seeping with worry. Through your haze and confusion your find his eyes - such a pretty hazel, now darker in the shade - and manage to squeeze out a painful, crooked smile.

“...Hi.” You whisper, almost voiceless. He cracks a smile, but his lower lip quivers.

“Hi.” He mutters, “Are you okay? Can you sit?”

You try to move but it proves to be too difficult. Noticing your struggle and sluggish movements, he gently eases you into a sitting position, his hold strong but not forceful, not even an echo to what it had been on the rocks. Your head spins, too heavy, buzzing. You gingerly lay it on his shoulder. Water laps by your feet. You are dripping from head to toe. The breeze makes you shiver, and he carefully wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pushing strands of wet hair from your face.

“Do you know where we are...?”

“The jungle.”

You somehow sense he doesn’t appreciate your sarcasm.

“You’re hurt.” He laments. Weakly, you clasp onto his arm and slowly pull away from his shoulder. You’re so close your noses brush. You can feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You see worry in his eyes. You feel a twinge of life light up in your chest.

“I’m okay.” You mutter, even if it is obvious that you are not.

“I’m sorry...” He utters, his eyes, half-lit and tender, pouring into your soul. His fingers brush your cheek, trembling lightly, lastly settling on the side of your jaw, “I’m sorry,” He repeats in a breath, “This is all my fault.”

Your heart spurs to life; the same pleasant buzz of energy flows back into you in forms of butterflies. The aching relents, the sharp pain in your side easing as if soothed by a cold touch. Your hazy vision sharpens and for a moment you can see everything in its minute detail, before all goes back to normal. The pulsing in your head stops, blood drying by your temple. You blink a few times, your brows knitting into a frown, lips parting to intake a slow breath. Your hand reaches to graze his cheek.

It’s back. What ever this fragile, beautiful thing is, it has returned to you.

“Who...are you?”

Vendetta had been right, there is something different about him, but perhaps not in the way she had intended.

“I’m Ben.” He says softly, “Just Ben.”

“No...” You observe him, “You are not.”

You feel a pull in your chest, as if you were a moon beckoned by his gravity, “How do you do it?” You ask, not quite certain what you’re referring to. A thousand questions swim in your mind and you shut your eyes, trying to focus on just one. But he still pulls you in, somehow, and gently you rest your forehead on his, each simple touch sparking a feeling of this is right and this is how it should be. Like a current of a river taking you where you need to be.

“I’m not doing anything.” He admits softly against your lips with an ache in the back of his throat.

Your eyes pry open, “Liar.” is all you say with quiet disappointment.

You untangle yourself from him and rise onto your feet, swaying a bit and he hurriedly jumps to aid you but you hold out your hand to stop him. His arms fall by his sides. The roar of the water momentarily absorbs you completely. It’s dark glimmer makes your stomach drop. You look up. The sky is already budding with stars, the last light dying by the horizon.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the base now.” You mutter, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your wet clothes cling to your skin, leaving no bend and curve obscured to his watchful eye. But it doesn’t bother you, at least not as much as it should, “Before we lose light completely.”

He nods solemnly. “Why did you want to see where I found you?” You ask, knowing he will not deny you an answer. It’s that feeling, that connection, open communication that leaves him vulnerable to your prodding.

He glances away from your prying stare, his jaw locked tight. Your chest swells as you regard him — a picture of divine loneliness. You almost fall pray to it, to those whispers, to those instincts that urge you to rush to his side and comfort him. He sighs heavily, his shoulders falling. “I wanted to see if you would go with me.”

“What?” You sputter, eyes wide in disbelief, “Why?”

“Because I want you to join me.” He seems to find his voice, the first uncertain notes glossing over with purpose, “To leave with me.” The corner of his lips quirk into a half-smile, “Have you ever seen the snow?”

“No...” You admit, taking a step back, “No, I haven’t. The Rebels need me. I don’t want to leave.” You finish quietly, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s more of a comforting motion rather than a defensive one.

“But you agreed to go with me today.” He says.

“Because you asked.” You counter.

“Then I’m asking again.” He extends his hand in an offering, “Come with me.”

You stare at it, your instincts urging you to take it. But you don’t know what entails going with him; you don’t know about his life and what sort of deal you would be signing by lacing your fingers with his. A part of you wants to agree — the part which you desperately try to explain, but cannot — and the other reminds you of duty. Of your mission. It reminds you of everything you will be unable to do if you take it.

He watches you, half worried and half irked as you stare at his hand with distant eyes. He can’t read your mind, can’t hear snippets of your brooding thoughts, but he knows you’re considering his offer, and he knows that this is all a charade which will end in his victory. He knows you will accept — it is now impossible for you two to be apart, the consequences of that severe enough to burn out a star.

But you’re guarded. Your mind sits behind a wall that can’t tear down — he’s not close enough, and you won’t let him. It is most likely an unconscious effort, a shield of some sort that your untamed energy had built in order to protect you from the likes of him. He likes that. He always enjoyed a challenge: everyone always danced around him and to find someone actually worthy of his attention is a rare sight on its own. That being said, he could invade your mind, could hurt you, could force you to spill all of your secrets in one breath. But he won’t. He wants you to come to him by your own volition. He wants you to allow him into your mind because you want him to see and feel and hear everything that’s hidden behind those pretty eyes and tender smile. Therefore he will not be forceful or rough; instead he will open your eyes - sway you, offer you something for your kindness, because he cannot fathom the fact that some things in life have no price. But he knows that you will join him - sooner or later matters little in the grand scheme of things.

Though, it is his fault he is so terribly impatient.

It’s frustrating to think that the Force would connect him to you out of everyone in the universe. That must be why he’s feeling this tightness in his chest, this, if he wasn’t so prideful to admit it, fear festering inside him — you’re a member of the Resistance that is not only Force sensitive, but also now linked to him. If the Rebels should become aware of this sensitive information, there is no telling what they would do. In the First Order you would be hailed like royalty; showered with praise and opulence and given authority to do as you please, given the life so many in your base believe he has. But the Resistance would not be as kind, if they would be kind at all - they would use you, abuse you, transform you into a weapon or a helpless little lure. Because they would know he would come looking for you. He is now destined to always look for you; destined to follow you across the galaxy and back if it meant you standing by his side in the final battle. They would change you into something unrecognizable. The safest side is his, and his shadow is the only place you’d find solace. He could train you. Protect you. Allow you to harvest the power that is capable of so many beautiful, terrible things.

He knew you were Force sensitive when he first laid eyes on you — the silence was confusing and heavenly and at the same time oddly irritating. Everyone else was an open book full with loud, useless mussing, overloaded with trifling information of which the only value he found was the exact coordinates of your base. He could return any time he wished and destroy everything in a slow, arduous way that would break you down and rebuild you, make you see that he is doing you a favor if you were so stubborn that it would come to that: you had saved his life, and now he is trying to save yours. And despite your proclamation that you can tell what he’s thinking, he finds great difficulty understanding you. Kindness is alien to him. Kindness had been ripped out of him by betrayal and replaced by hate. It is the only real emotion, and the only source of his strength. If only he could tear you away from those people you call friends, then you could finally understand.

But knowing you had the Force dormant within you wasn’t enough, he needed to test you, needed to know just how far your powers went.

He didn’t expect it. To be connected. It wasn’t until you touched hands did he feel your happiness as his own.

Though it’s unstable, your connection. Wild emotions sometimes ebb and flow and pass one person to the other. And he, too, in moments of surprised vulnerability forgot to keep himself tempered and in control. His anger, hatred, all things wretched and deformed have slipped into your dreams and your day to day life. A part of him, now permanently a part of you. It felt like he finally found something he had been unknowingly searching for — a missing piece of him that has returned to make him whole. Without you, he would feel like carved bark, a half-finished project incapable of reaching its full potential. To let you go is not an option anymore.

Stronger together, he reminds himself in a scolding tone. He is not supposed to care about you, rather of what’s in you — raw, untamed power, a well of untapped potential. You are his half, and he is yours. You are connected by the Force, and there is nothing else to it. Cannot be anything else.

The human shell is hardly his point of interest.

“No,” You say, taking a small step back from him, from his offer, from the temptation, and casting your gaze down into the gleaming water, “no, I can’t go with you. I have to stay here.”

You don’t dare to look at him and see just what expression he is wearing, though you guess he’s not too happy by your rejection. You cheeks heat uncomfortably - his gesture was noble yet crafted so carefully that you suspect an ulterior motive behind it. You can’t throw your life away, not before you understand what’s actually going on between you. You clear your throat awkwardly, sparing a blank look at the swaying trees and trying to think of the best route to return home, “Come on.” You utter, “We shouldn’t be standing around here. Not safe.” You add silently.

Though you can’t help yourself. You spare a glance at him and freeze up -- it looks like you slapped him, his eyes wide with hurt and pale face blotching red. He slowly retracts his hand, his motion stiff and mechanic as if he does not know what to do with it if he’s not holding yours. It feels cold again, and you are fairly certain it has nothing to do with the lukewarm water dripping from your clothes.

Snow. You see it in quick flashes -- a white, hazy storm -- that fulls you to the brim with dread. What was it that Vendetta had said? A base somewhere existing in his memories, a place he will return to, a place where he wants to take you. A palace hidden in the snow.

July, in all his brutality, was right: you had been fraternizing with the enemy. Ilum, the planet of frost and snow and home to the Starkiller Base of the First Order. And someone from that same Order had offered you to come with.

It’s a different kind of pain -- you’d prefer the headaches after a day of mental gymnastics, the dull pain of muscles after training, the sharp stabs of a sprained ankle, the pulses and red flashes of an open wound. Anything would be better than this winter in your soul. You feel tired, in an incurable, empty way. As if you lost a half of something integral that you will never have again. Love can bloom only so much before it withers.

You turn away from him and approach the trees, not entirely certain if he’s following you or not. You feel like you’re a cloud in the sky, heavy with rain and thunder but unable to release it. The capacity for that had been robbed from you. He, you realize, is the first person in the line of people that you won’t be able to save. He’s going where you can’t follow. He’s another chess piece on the board that is this war - and one day you will face him among blood and slaughter.

It is hard to believe that mere minutes ago he had been cotton on your fingers, almost destroyed by longing he can’t explain.

Ben...To you the name is now forever cursed.

It is night when you return to your room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind you on the alabaster floor. You collapse onto your bed, your head heavy thoughts, each more confusing and cumbersome than the last. Your agreed meeting at twilight was completely forgotten after the tumble. Somewhere half-way through the jungle you recalled that your friends might be missing you.

The door to your room slides open and you look up - Q. They watch you for a silent moment, assessing the damage: messy hair, dirtied linen clothes, blood dried on your cheek, tired, deep eyes that face the world without truly seeing anything. They clear their throat, giving you a smile, “When we noticed your absence and the absence of our esteemed guest,” They start, their voice even, diplomatic, perfectly neutral, “it is suffice to say we were frightened that you had been lured to a trap. Fallen to an early grave.” They approach you easily, taking a seat beside you and landing a hand on your knee, “Though, fall you certainly did from what I can tell.” They finish with a note of amusement.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, “He wanted to see the place where I found him and we got lost.” You explain, sparing the details. They accept your answer, even if it’s full of holes. “Did the meeting commence?”

“After we unanimously decided that you aren’t stupid enough to get yourself killed.” They huffed, “V was especially eager to send out a search party. I must admit that I was, too, swayed by the idea. July, however, as always, shot us down. Had more faith in you than us. For that, I apologize.” They pause, pensive, “But you care little for that, I suppose. You want to know what we decided.”

“Yes.”

“Your vote still counts, Seven. And if you want, we can call a-”

“No.” You cut them off sadly, “No, I agree with your decision, whatever that decision might be.”

“Then first thing tomorrow morning he will be taken to the nearest station,” They say softly, “and released from our care.”

You think you could feel sorrow if you were not so exhausted - right now the only thing you want is to shut your eyes and forget the world exists entirely. You nod stiffly, replaying the dream you had this morning. Flames like hands grasping for the sky, chaos and wind and blood -- but the smoke dies down eventually, and now you stand in the aftermath. There is nothing left, just ash.

They tap your knee once for good measure and stand up, sparing you a rueful glance.

“I may not know exactly what your, ah...situation is, per se,” Q utters, “but know that if you ever wish to share it, you can come to me. Or any of us. Even July. He may be tough, but he still cares about you. In the only way he knows how.” They stand there for a beat, waiting for you to say something, anything really, but you don’t. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Q leaves and the door shuts and you wonder if today had been real or a factitious, terrible nightmare. Perhaps you never woke up, perhaps you are still sleeping restlessly, trapped, unable to open your eyes and look at the sun with a smile while saying, “It was just a dream.”. The pain had passed leaving nothing behind. The night is dark and endless and the bleak light of your bedroom illuminates your surroundings without an ounce of warmth. Still silence, suffocating air. This blanket of loneliness lays heavy on your shoulders before it all piles and piles and--

You, laying in bed, shivering, tears crawling down your cheeks and lips red from biting, and Ben, in the Medical Wing, heaving, watching the broken glass bottles glimmering on the floor, supplies smashed, sheets thrown about haphazardly in sudden rage, feel the same scorch of heartbreak.

hope you liked it!

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poptod · 4 years

Note

hey there! hope i’m not bothering u. maybe a snafu x reader after the war where he tries to impress them at a bar with war stories but y/n was an air force pilot and it turns into a debate of who was more badass during the war? sweet at the end maybe? i’m addicted to ur writing lmao. thanks again for always answering my requests!

notes: not a problem at all :) unfortunately the power has been out at my house for a day or two so this is a tad late, but youve got fun ideas so i dont mind writing them at all. hope you like this one too

It had to be past midnight – somehow despite that fact, you were still wide awake. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't taken your sleeping pills, or the pounding loud shouts of the bar's drunken patrons, but you did not lag behind your friend. She'd dragged you there, saying something about getting free drinks since she was banging the bartender. Before either of you knew it, she was off flirting with another man (which the bartender did not like), and you were ordering your third drink. Not the most you'd drunk in one night, not even close, but it was enough to give you a pleasant buzz, allowing you to relax against the bar counter and look out across the crowd.

Within the next several hours most of the crowd had filed out, making way for a new wave of soldiers, ones that had just arrived home and were celebrating their life still belonging to themselves. You were once part of that menagerie; the only difference was you had become a marine before the war ever started, and while you were there for the beginnings of the war, your contract with the marine corps ended soon after. It left you feeling apart from both citizens and soldiers – someone who didn't know the horrors of war, but who was traumatized enough that society didn't care to love them anymore.

Unlike many returning soldiers, you did not turn to alcohol to fix your issues. For the most part you distracted yourself with work, working and working till there was nothing in your head but work – there was little else in your life besides work now, the one exception being your friend, Penny. She made sure you ate, made sure you got outside and had human contact. For that you will always be grateful.

Your attention wavers from her only when one of the returning soldiers stands right beside you at the bar, ordering a bottle of beer before noticing you, his posture suddenly changing as he does so. His back straightens out a little, his hips a little more forward, elbows on the bar behind him so as to show off toned forearms and a skinny waist. He stares for a little while – you pay him no mind. When he gets his drink, that's when he actually speaks to you.

"What's a doll like you doin' here?" He says, and you almost roll your eyes. What a typical start.

"Keepin' a friend company," you answer him quietly, taking a swig of your own drink. It's not entirely a lie, although you feel you're keeping less and less of her company the more she drifts off to the side, caught up in the stare of a rather handsome man with a fair amount of scruff.

"Really? You come here often? I'm - jus' curious. I've never been here before," he says, clarifying that he isn't that stupid so as to use that specific line, a clarification you appreciate.

"This is my first time. My friend though, she comes here often, says she likes the atmosphere," you tell him, nodding in the direction of Penny, who is currently in a corner with the stranger. "You're a soldier, right?"

"Yessir," he says with a proud nod, "just returnin', actually."

You nod absently, looking out across the general crowd before you at last meet his eye. In the neon red lights you can barely see him, the shape of his face against the black mass of people, the color of his eyes against long eyelashes that flutter when he scans you up and down. All you can tell about him is his voice – rough and deep, drawling his words and humming his thoughts.

"You meet many marines?" He asks, and you can already tell he's gearing up to tell you some horrid stories of the war. Unfortunately, you don't know him well enough yet to know if he's going to tell you the truth, and a small part of you hopes he doesn't tell the truth. The truth is gorey and dangerous and heartbreaking, and you're not ready to live out such memories and tales again. Not yet.

"I've met a few," you say vaguely, watching the way a grin cracks across his face as he chuckles smooth and low.

"All I gotta say is you're lucky I ain't no army kid, those assholes are weak as all hell," he says, something you fully agree with, and something that has a sweet giggle coming involuntarily out of you. He smiles even bigger when he watches the way you laugh.

"My father was a marine," you say, coming down from your high. "He said the same thing."

"He's right, y' know... me n' my troop, we was out on that godforsaken island in the Pacific, hot as hell every day – humid, too. We saw hell n' back, shootin' at Japs n' gettin' shot at, sitting in all those damn trenches, up to ya knees in mud, and there go the fuckin' army soldiers, prancing around like goddamn deer. Funniest shit I ever seen, though to be fair, I don't think any a' us had much to eat that day," he recalls fondly, but you can tell he's suppressing the worse memories. You don't ask on that – it'd be rude, and it's not a subject you want to talk about. Nonetheless, he continues. "An you know, you're sittin' in mud all day n' night, you're gonna get pretty dirty, right?"

You nod attentively. If there's one thing you're still good at after your time in the marine corps, it's listening well.

"So we're all covered in mud, and they come by in a neat row, with their freshly washed hair and white as all hell skin – I made a bet with this one fella, Burgie, a' said they'd get so sunburnt after a week on that island, they'd be cryin'. I was right, of course," he says, motioning with his hands as he told the story. At the end he rubs his nose and turns back to you, watching for your reaction, and loving the way you still manage to enjoy his story.

"So you're tellin' war stories now?" You ask, leaning in closer and smirking imperceptibly when his breath catches in his throat. "What's your best story, then?"

He doesn't skip a beat, another one of those sweetly impure smiles coming across him as he starts.

"Hell, there's a lot to choose from. I do remember though," his hand comes up to his shirt collar, unconsciously toying with it, "this one Jap snuck into our camp, still don't know how, but he was one a' those damn kamikaze soldiers, the radical ones. He shouted somethin', don't remember what, but everyone went for their guns – I did too, an' we all pointed at his chest, cause it's easier to aim that way, y'know? But the bombs were tied to his chest, so a' aimed at the head. Shot him dead center between his eyes," he tells you with an air of pride and a hint of disgust. You don't blame him.

"That's a good story," you say with a small smile.

Anticipation creeps up on you as you wait till he's done prattling off little details, just waiting till you can watch the light die in his eyes as you tell him your own war story.

"I think my best marine story would have to be when I was flyin' over this active war field, there's fighter pilots everywhere in the sky, and sometimes it's hard to tell which jet belongs to which side in the moment. Everythin' goes by fast, but I saw this Jap flagged plane drop a bomb the size of a whole person. Immediate reaction was to shoot at the bomb, and I got pretty lucky – it blew up midair, and I was far enough it didn't hurt me," you say, unable to stop a grin from coming to you when the man slowly realizes that he's talking to another marine.

"Oh, you're a marine too, ain't you?" He says, but it's not a question – no, it sounds more like a challenge, and one you're completely willing to participate in. "Where you stationed?"

"I was in Hawaii at first," you say quietly, and he immediately gets the implication. Although you both now know what you saw, and the topic is in your heads, neither of you explore that further. "Later got stationed at some place in the Pacific. Like you. Though, I was on the ocean, not an island."

"What's your kill count?" He asks, and he leans forward just a little bit, drawing closer to you.

"Does it really matter?" You ask in return.

"'Course it does. You gonna be out here tellin' me you didn't count?"

"I didn't," you say truthfully. "A bit hard to see how many y' kill from a thousand feet in the air."

"Y'ever do parachute drops?"

"Once," you say. "Did you?"

"Nah, parachute drops ain't nothin' compared to the shit I did," he says, dismissing the notion as if it wasn't important. Now he's trying to impress you – again.

"Really?" You ask, almost sarcastic, but you manage to hold that part back. "What is it that you did then that was so much more terrifying and dangerous than freefalling through the atmosphere?"

"Try carryin' mortars on ya back in searing heat, n' all the while you n' ya company's out takin' a little hike 'cross a whole island filled with Japs," he says cockily, angling his chin upwards in a motion that accentuates his already sharp-as-hell jawline.

"Wow, a whole island," you say sarcastically, but he sees the humor behind it.

"Hey, Japan's an island too an' they big enough that they got the whole nation in uproar," he points out.

"Whatever makes you feel better," you say, taking a sip of your drink.

"What's your rank anyway?" He asks as he puts his drink on the counter, crossing his arms.

"I'm a major," you say, and once again the light dies in his eyes. You almost want to spare him the embarrassment of telling you his own rank, but you are curious, and it's just too fun to let him off. "What's your rank?"

"... corporal," he answers quietly, and you have to hold back a laugh. You try really hard, you really do, just so hard not to laugh, but you end up snorting anyway, and you can't even begin to work on your smile.

"Alright, corporal," you say, still trying not to laugh. Placing your own drink down on one of the bar coasters you turn to him, curling his loose tie around one of your hands and pulling him forward, practically devouring his nervous delight. "Y' really wanna play this game?"

"I'm the one who started it, ain't I?" He says, and you admire his tenacity to talk back to a superior officer.

"What's your full name and title, Corporal?"

"Corporal Merriel Shelton," he answers softly, his eyes suddenly stuck on the words that form on your blushing lips. "Ma' friends jus' call me Snafu, though."

"Mmm," you hum, looking him up and down much like he'd done to you earlier, "the hell you do to earn that kind a' name?"

"Oh, I'm just reckless, baby," he says with a smirk, gaining the confidence needed to lean into your touch more. You can feel his hips almost pressed against yours, the feeling doing nothing but making you pull his tie even more, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of your lips.

"Mind showin' me?"

"Not at all," he says in the impossibly low voice of his, and with that you're his, if only for the evening.

#merriel snafu shelton #snafu x reader #the pacific hbo #rami malek #rami malek character #gender neutral reader

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