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ibrithir-was-here · 1 year

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Another little Corinthian Bros drabble, this one set after they actually start to like eachother. Inspired by the recent ask by @karalynlovescake and @lunaticus tags on that ask. Thanks for the inspo!

Rest for the Wicked

Dreams and Nightmares didn't sleep, They didn't need to sleep, they weren't created to need or even want sleep. They especially weren't meant to shirke their duties to catch a quick cat-nap. Not even the cat-shaped ones.

The Corinthian of course made it a point of pride to do what he shouldn't.

The Corinthian had, point of fact, spent plenty of time in bed in the Waking World, but none of his time spent there had involved anything at all restful. And he hadn't had even the faintest desire to visit his place of origin for so much as a five minute doze when he'd been free to wander the Waking. There was too much to see, to do, to taste.

And yet somehow, now he found himself sprawled out on top of a hill in Fiddler's Green with the Kid curled up next to him, head resting against the Corinthian's shoulder. The younger nightmare's breath went softly in and out, making his eyelashes flutter over his eye teeth as his consciousness floated in some lower level of awareness, mimicking sleep as closely they could get here in the Dreaming.

The Corinthian looked down at him, watching as his chest rose and fell, completely at ease. So calm, so vulnerable. As if totally unaware that he lay next to the horror of all horrors to stalk the Dreaming.

But then, wasn't that the younger nightmare's calling as well?

Perhaps it was the Corinthian who should be afraid, wary of the sleeping menace that could rouse at any moment and turn on him after having lulled him into a false security, only to strike when he least expected it.

The Corinthian reached out and brushed away a lock of too long hair that had once more fallen into one the Kid's eye-mouths as it gave a tiny snore.

Oh yes, blood curdling terrifying this one.

It felt strange, to rest like this. To be a position he'd been in so many times and yet not have it be colored by the cravings of lust nor hunger. To look at his companion in this moment and feel…fondness. Protective.

The Kid had worn himself ragged these last few weeks, trying to prove himself to Dream, trying to prove himself to the Corinthian. He'd taken each new assignment with intensity, if not relish. With exactness, if not enthusiasm. He'd done all that he'd been asked and more.

And the Corinthian could see that it was draining him, even as the Kid knelt at Dream's feet and gazed up at his Creator with a fervor that the Corinthian remembered he once had felt (perhaps still did, deep deep down). The Kid might have smiled under Dream's praise, but there were dark circles below two of those smiles.

It had been when he'd seen the Kid stumble almost into a wall as he'd walked away from the throne room that the Corinthian had decided enough was enough.

"But I'm supposed to go do a nightmare right now. If Lord Dream finds out I skipped it--"

"You won't be able to terrify anyone if you trip over your own feet the moment you try to saunter down a flickering hallway. Now you come with me and let me worry about Dream. Worse comes to worse we tell him I talked you into playing hooky. Which is true. "

And he'd taken the Kid off to a far corner of Fiddler's Green where he knew he'd be able to get some shut eye. The old verdant dream liked the Kid, he wouldn't tell on them once he saw how worn out he was.

Actually most of the Major Arcana and staff liked the Kid, for all the pranks he pulled and mischief he got up to you couldn't really help but like him. It was part of his make up, the part of the Corinthian that was meant to draw you in to make slipping the knife between your ribs that much easier.

Only with the Kid the knife never came, not if he could possibly help it anyway. He had no compunctions about frightening dreamers who really deserved it, but he much preferred a good spook to a slaughter.

And that was precisely the problem.

He was meant to be the new Corinthian, meant to be the black mirror held up to show humanity the horror inside them, the depths they could sink to, so that they would never wish to do so within the Waking. It was brutal, disturbing work. Necessary work Dream would say. It was the reason he'd called the Corinthian his masterpiece.

And Kid was just too darn soft to go as dark as he should to do it.

The Corinthian wondered if this was a result of Dream attempting to curb what he saw as the overly savage tendencies within himself when the Dreamlord crafted his replacement, and overcorrecting…

Or, if it was some flaw he'd passed onto the Kid himself. Something inherent in his nature that made this new Corinthian also lacking, also unable to fulfill his Creator's expectations as Dream had hoped.

Was it simply in the nature of their being to disappoint, in one way or the other?

And if so…what did that mean for the Kid? Would Dream decide to be content with the flawed product he had as long as the Kid stayed within the bounds he set?

Or would the Lord Shaper decide that third times the charm, and sweep the dust of both of them off his hands?

All three of the Corinthian's sets of teeth clenched at the thought, and he tightened his grip on the young sleeping nightmare.

No, no he'd break his parole and skip out to the Waking World with the Kid in tow if it even came close to feeling like that might happen.

The Kid might not want to go, of course, might think he could reason with Dream, think if he pleads at his Lord's feet, he'd be shown mercy.

Well-- the Corinthian thought, looking over once more at the Kid, the Kid he'd never have known if Dream hadn't kept him around to train him--perhaps Dream did have some mercy.

He just didn't fancy testing how far it would stretch.

Yes, the Corinthian would get them out if he had too. He'd run before and he could do it again. True, Dream had been imprisoned then, but he'd figure something out. He--they, were the Corinthian.

And they wouldn't go down without a fight.

#my writing #the corinthian #corinthian bros au #the second corinthian #dream of the endless #fiddlers green #the sandman #sandman fic #sandman au #sandman

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anakinskywalkerog · 2 years

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The Jedi and the Loth Rat (Episode 8)

Kanan Jarrus x Padawan!Reader

Link to Episode 7

Warnings: death (and mention of grief), fighting, a fun lil canon swap

Summary: In search of your parents, you and the ghost crew infiltrate an imperial mining facility on Lothal.

Word Count: 4.7k

Kanan stood on top of the Ghost as it sat parked, looking out over the grassy plain of Lothal, deep in thought. The crew hadn't been back here in a while, not since before you'd been taken by the Grand Inquisitor. So much had changed, since then. Almost all of the change had been good—you'd grown in your power, strengthened your abilities, and become significantly wiser in the ways of the Force. You'd also admitted that you'd been in love with him. Kanan smiled. Sometimes he still had a hard time believing it—that he was free to adore you, to kiss you when he wanted, that you wanted him to—that you loved him too. He knew he would always be there for you, always be ready to be whatever you needed, whether that was in a romantic capacity or not. Still, now that you had opened yourself to him in that way—now that he knew what it was like, to lay beside you as you slept, to touch your face, to feel your body against his—he had to work hard to push down the fear he felt deep within himself that you'd eventually grow tired of him, or develop feelings for someone else. He knew he would never grow tired of you.

And then there was the issue of the emperor, just one of the secrets he still kept from you. Kanan worked hard each morning to clear his mind of this particular worry, to make sure you couldn't intuit this truth through his moods, his presence in the Force. Kanan had never lied to you, except perhaps by omission. The fact remained that you were hunted, that the emperor and those closest to him knew of your abilities and desired to identify you, and destroy you—or worse. Kanan wished he were stronger in the Force, wished he were more enlightened, enough to dislodge these worries permanently, to live in the present. The best he was able to do was push them to the back of his mind, and he did so forcefully, packing them up neatly and hiding them from view. He'd come up here to the top of the ship to find you, and he saw you now, your back to him, seated as you were in a meditative position on top of the cockpit. He stood, quietly, waiting for you to finish.

"What worries you?" he heard you ask, as you turned around, looking to him. Of course, though he had packed up certain thoughts, his mood was still heavy in the air. It was hard to get anything past you, these days. As the two of you had grown closer, romantically, emotionally, and...physically—Kanan felt himself getting distracted, only for a moment—your Force connection had grown even stronger than before, stronger than any Force connection Kanan had known in his life. It meant that keeping things from each other was difficult, if not completely impossible.

Kanan sighed, walking forward on the ship to sit down next to you. "Plenty," he told you, reaching for your hand, pulling it toward him to kiss your fingers. "But nothing you need to be concerned about." You narrowed your eyes at him, ever suspicious of secret-keeping.

"Kanan," you said, and he felt you adding a level of Force command to your voice, a habit you had perfected almost unknowingly. "You can tell me. We need to trust each other, you and I. It will make everything easier from here on out, if you treat me like your equal."

"Equal," Kanan repeated, laughing. "You are far above me in many ways, Y/N. You know this."

"But not in how in love I am," you responded, your voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Right?" You stuck out your chin, resting your face on Kanan's shoulder.

Kanan laughed. "Right," he said, leaning in to plant kisses all over your face, holding your cheek with his free hand. "I am the most in love. One of the only areas in which I surpass you, I'm afraid." You smiled, and he knew you thought he was wrong. He'd let you believe it.

"So, if you're the most in love," you said, imploringly, sending shivers through Kanan's whole body as you crawled, moving your body closer to his. "Then..."

"Yes?" Kanan asked, looking into your eyes in anticipation. You looked up at him through your lashes, angling your face up toward his, brushing your knees up against his knees.

"Then you'll tell me what's worrying you," you finished, plopping back onto the metal of the ship. Kanan moaned, laughing. The fact was that you now knew how enchanted Kanan was at your very being, how little he was able to refuse you, and you'd begun to use it to your advantage. It was annoying, and adorable. Kanan turned his body to face yours, keeping one of your hands in both of his.

"The truth is," Kanan started, and he felt your body go still, your eyes on his face, because you'd felt the tone shift more serious. "I'm not who you think I am, Y/N." You leaned forward.

"Can I ask, now?" you probed, your eyes wide, your tone tentative. "Can I ask you about Caleb Dume?" Kanan inhaled quickly. As always, you had surprised him.

"How do you know that name?" he asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"When we...connected," you said, tenderly, trying to communicate through your eyes a sense of loving acceptance. Kanan felt this forgiving, calming feeling surround him, and he knew you were pushing out with the Force, trying to dispel his anxiety. "When I learned of your feelings for me, when I saw your memories of us through your eyes...I heard and saw other things, as well." Kanan nodded. This made sense.

"Caleb Dume is my name," he said, looking away, out at the plains. "My given name. I shed the name Caleb when I fled Order 66—when I fled my past. My true identity." You were now stroking his hands, cupping them in your own. "There are things about me that you don't know, Y/N. Things you wouldn't like. Things I don't like." Kanan heaved a deep breath. Underneath his voice was his worry, and he knew you felt it. His worry you would leave him when you found out who he truly was—when you found out that he had betrayed his master, that he had run away from those who needed him. That he had deserted his ideals. That he had been a coward.

"I don't need to know everything you've done to know who you are, Kanan," you said, pushing Force calm over him once again. "Some things in the past—they don't matter anymore. What matters is who we are now." Kanan nodded. This sounded very wise, but he didn't fully believe it.

"Did you discover the answers you were looking for?" he asked you, changing the subject for the time being. "Do you know where we should start, in looking for the truth about your parents?" He felt your discomfort at the changing direction of the conversation, but you didn't push it with him.

"I keep seeing flashes," you said. "Memories, I guess. Of the same place."

"Well, we should start there, then," Kanan said, standing up, reaching out his hand to you. You took it, allowing him to help you up. "What place are you referring to?"

"It's a lake," you said, as you turned to walk back in the direction of the upper hatch of the Ghost. Kanan placed a hand on the small of your back. It was a slight gesture, but one that mattered. You felt the care he meant to communicate. He smiled. "A lake my parents took me to, when I was young. I keep seeing it—the way it looked when my parents and I swam, the sun shining on us." Kanan felt the shift in your tone, and began stroking your back with this thumb.

"We'll find out what happened to them, Y/N," Kanan said, and you turned to look at him, your eyes full of anxiety.

"What if they're alive, Kanan?"

"If they are," Kanan said, turning to face you, "I won't rest until we've found them, and brought them home."

"Should we go over the plan, again?" Hera asked, sitting in cockpit of the Phantom.

"We know," Zeb said, rolling his eyes from the co-pilot's chair. "We drop Kanan and tiny a half a mile out. From there, we fly around the rocks to the southern side of the lake, scouting as much as we can from above."

"Then we wait for...well, who knows," Sabine added, standing with you and Kanan near the back of the small ship.

"Just be ready for anything," Kanan told them, and at his words, you felt your insides squirm. Kanan put his hand on your arm. He could always feel your fear, now.

"Coming up on the drop point," Hera told you, as she lowered the ship, but didn't land it. Sabine pressed the button to open the ramp.

"Good luck," Sabine said as you and Kanan jumped the remaining meters to the ground below. The jump was a long one, but, given that you and Kanan had a knack for manipulating the Force, you landed comfortably.

"Whatever happens," Kanan told you, "I'm with you."

"Right," you said, pushing aside your fear. You didn't know what you expected to find here—the place had been calling out to you through the Force, but you were wary of what that might mean. You lead Kanan as you headed in the direction of the lake. It was surrounded by rocks on the western and southern sides, and you'd decided those rocks would be a perfect place to scout out the area, should you run into any unexpected visitors. You began to climb.

"Careful, Y/N," Kanan told you, as he watched your foot slip an inch or two on the rock. He climbed beneath you. Though it wasn't as if you were climbing a cliff, the rocks were sharp and hard, and falling would not be pleasant.

"I've got it," you told Kanan, feeling his hand on your ankle, trying to make sure you didn't fall. Your mind was racing. Why had you seen this lake in your visions? What might you find here?

The two of you climbed on. You pulled yourself up to a landing in the rocks, close to their peaks, a spot that gave you just enough cover to hide, but held a view of the lake below. You heard Kanan pull himself onto the landing beside you.

"Um, Spectre 6? Are you seeing this?" you heard Sabine ask you through the comm attached to your belt. You peered through the rocks at the lake.

It looked nothing like the lake from your memories. The place of your childhood had been remote, surrounded only by natural beauty. The lake you looked down on now was surrounded by buildings, low bridges built over the water in multiple directions. Everything was metallic, built, and disrupted. The water, you saw, had turned an unfamiliar color.

"It's an imperial mining base of some kind," you heard Hera say through the comm. "It looks like they're extracting some kind of raw material."

"But what?" Kanan asked through his comm, his eyes on your face as you beheld the monstrosity below you.

"Will they stop at nothing? Will they leave no stone unturned?" you asked, turning to Kanan, your eyes widening, desperate with an ache for your home world. "Will they destroy every last bit of Lothal?" Kanan had no words of comfort to offer you. He couldn't tell you it would all be all right, nor could he tell you that Lothal might be spared the imperial tyranny you all had come to know so well. Instead, he pressed his lips against your forehead, pulling you close to him, communicating instead that he understood your pain, that he wanted to bear it with you.

"It's the water," you heard Zeb say through the comm. "What they're mining for. It's in the water." You puzzled through this, looking down again at the bridges running over the lake. When you squinted, you could see large, metal devices moving beneath the surface of the lake.

"But what about the fish? The plants?" you asked, feeling the aching pangs in your middle. At this admission, it clicked into place in your mind. You turned to Kanan.

"It's the barinnium," you told him, speaking quickly. "That's what they're mining for. Barinnium."

"What's barinnium?" Kanan asked, keeping his eyes on your face.

"The mineral that colors Lothal's atmosphere. In large quantities, barinnium can be made into explosives." Your eyes clouded as you remembered your parents voices—how they had explained to you what the colors meant, the ones you had seen in the sky when the Empire attacked. "Powerful explosives."

"What does this all have to do with your parents?" Kanan asked, feeling anxious as he looked back down at the facility.

"I don't know. But they knew about the barinnium," you said slowly, thinking hard. "What if the Empire took them because of their knowledge of Lothal's natural resources? What if...what if they're being held prisoner, here?" You scanned the facility beneath you, frantic.

"Y/N," Kanan said, tugging at your arm, trying to get you to look at him. "We wouldn't even know where to begin to look. Maybe we should end this scouting mission now, and come back later, when we know more of what we're dealing with. We can make a plan." You shook your head quickly.

"Kanan, my parents could be down there," you told him, pleading. "Turn back if you want. But I'm not leaving." You scanned the buildings beneath you, looking for a weak point. You didn't see any guards, but you assumed the facility was rigged with other traps—imperial probes, at the very least.

"I'm not leaving you," Kanan said quietly. "I will follow your lead." You nodded, looking back up at him, pure gratitude in your eyes.

"There," you told him, pointing beneath one of the bridges. "See what I see?"

"A vent," Kanan responded, nodding, understanding your train of thought.

"Exactly," you said, your eyes zeroing in on your target. "That's our way in."

You hung on for dear life, the bridge above you, you clinging underneath it with your arms and legs like a spider monkey. Slowly, you crawled, hanging underneath the bridge, Kanan crawling behind you.

"Almost there," you told him, looking at the vent ahead of you, and he nodded, slowing his crawl as he too clung to the underside of the bridge.

"I can...I can feel them," you said, stopping your crawl, distracted by a murmuring in your head.

"Y/N? What is it?" Kanan whispered, his voice sounding uneasy.

"I...my parents," you tried to say, but your vision was starting to cloud as you concentrated on the voices in your head, feeling the images again, the faint impressions of memories. "I can feel them." The Force tugged at you, and you looked up, past the bridge you hung from, up to one of the higher ones. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. It couldn't be.

"Y/N," Kanan told you again. "Y/N, what's going on?"

"I see him!" you said suddenly, your eyes going wide. "I see my father!" You crawled out from under the bridge, pulling yourself up onto it.

"Y/N, no!" Kanan said urgently, following you up onto the bridge.

"I can hear him speaking to me," you said, turning back to Kanan, your eyes still clouded. You broke into a run, leaping from the bridge you were on to the adjacent one, and then up onto the higher one you'd seen. You were sure. You felt his presence. You couldn't believe it.

"Y/N! Wait!" Kanan yelled frantically, running to jump and follow you up onto the higher bridge. You let him catch up to you, standing up on the upper bridge, whirling around.

"He was...he was just right here," you said, confused. In the back of your mind, you noticed that there were no alarms sounding—no probes coming in to detect your presence, no security of any kind. In your distracted state, you registered this, but it was not your main concern.

"Father!?" you yelled, and Kanan grabbed your arm, shushing you.

"Y/N, we need to leave," Kanan said, his voice filled with dread.

"We can't! I saw him, Kanan! We need to find him—them—they're here! I just..." You shook your head, feeling some of the clouded-ness fall away, fear taking its place. "Where...?"

"Ah Jedi," you heard a familiar voice say, and the clouds in your mind left you completely, the feeling of ice filling your veins. "So easy," the voice continued. "You Jedi always hunt yourselves." You turned to face him, the presence you had sensed too late. The Grand Inquisitor.

Kanan stepped in front of you, lighting his saber. "You will never touch her again," he spat, and you felt the anger pulsing through him, the rage he felt for the inquisitor in front of him. You too lit your saber, pushing aside your fear.

"Always the gentleman," the Grand Inquisitor mocked in his eerily calm voice. "She is but the bait, Kanan Jarrus. And so easy to manipulate," he said, looking at you as you peered from behind Kanan's stance. "The quality time I spent with your apprentice gave me much to work with." The inquisitor smiled a wicked smile.

"Where are my parents?" you asked, and you hated how small your voice sounded, how much fear you had let slip from your vocal chords.

"Quite slow on the uptake, your padawan," the Grand Inquisitor said to Kanan. "They're dead, young one. Killed, years ago. And yet, you still search for them." The inquisitor laughed. "You Jedi truly underestimate the weakness that is compassion." You swallowed hard, pushing aside all of your feelings, concentrating on the Force. You and Kanan needed a way out of this, and you sensed that the only way out was through. You held your saber high.

"You underestimate the strength," Kanan said, his voice a commanding volume in his anger, "that it is to care for another." He walked forward, ready to attack, to defend you to the end.

"Such heroics won't be necessary," the Grand Inquisitor said slowly, as if he wanted to draw this out—as if he were enjoying it. "Your padawan is already well acquainted with pain."

It was quick as a flash. If you'd blinked, you might have missed the movement, Kanan rushing at the Grand Inquisitor, closing the gap between them instantaneously. At the same time, you felt all of your muscles stiffen, felt yourself held in the Force, unable to move your arms or legs.

"Kanan!" you shouted, wanting to run to his aid, wanting to help him in this fight, but you remained still as you watched Kanan and the inquisitor swing their lightsabers, fighting in the world's most perverse dance.

"I won't let him hurt you!" Kanan shouted as he fought. "Not again!" You watched as he pushed with the Force, the Grand Inquisitor thrown back a few steps. You knew Kanan was holding you here, using his effort to keep you out of the battle, and you hesitated to use the Force to push back against him to free yourself. You didn't want him to waste any of his energy on you. Not when his opponent swung at him, again and again.

You watched with horror as the battle continued. It was difficult to see who had the upper hand, both fighters very skilled. You reached out with the Force, trying to sense a way out of this mess. The battle seemed to be taking place in slow motion. And then—instantaneously, with a gasp—you felt what would happen before it did. The Grand Inquisitor reached up with the circular hilt of his blade, hitting Kanan across the face, using the Force to push him back and off of the bridge.

"No!" you yelled, as you felt the Force bind break, you falling to your knees. You looked over the side of the bridge, looking for Kanan, for his body, for anything—but you saw nothing. You reached out with the Force, trying to feel his presence, but felt only blankness, only cold, only lack.

You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. It couldn't be real. The pain rocked you in waves as you searched, frantically. You felt your vision closing, closing into blackness, your line of sight narrowing to the size of a pin. You took ragged breaths, trying to get oxygen to your lungs, but you couldn't seem to feel your body. It couldn't be. Kanan couldn't be—

"Dead," the Grand Inquisitor finished for you, triumphantly. You cried out, not able to stop yourself, falling onto your hands on the bridge, your lightsaber at their side. You knew it was true. You knew, looking down at the large metal devices churning under the surface of the water, that there would be no resurfacing for anyone who fell into those depths. You tried to keep the sobs inside of you, but they came out of their own will. Your wonderful and perfect Kanan, your guardian, your protector, your teacher, your everything. You couldn't handle the weight of the coldness you felt descending upon you. It was all your fault. You'd brought him here—you'd said you needed to continue, you wouldn't let him turn back—all because of a trick. The Grand Inquisitor had tricked you again, and you'd been stupid enough to fall for it. It was your fault. Kanan was gone.

"Yes," the Grand Inquisitor said, feeling your anger, your fear. "Let it in, padawan. Let in that anger. Let it fuel you." The sound of the inquisitor's mocking voice brought back your vision, but not your breath, not your feeling. All you felt was an immense cold through the Force, as if everything around you—air, water, sky—were ice, were nothing, were the vacuum of space. It was heavy. It was uncaring. But somehow, you could move through it. Somehow, the cold gave you strength. Your eyes turned cruel. You stood up, taking your saber in hand, feeling the darkness flowing through you.

"That was a mistake," you told the Grand Inquisitor, and even you didn't recognize your voice. You saw the villainous being falter at the sight of you.

"Why? Because you have no one left to die for you?" the inquisitor asked, pulling back his wicked smile.

"No," you told him, raising your weapon, your eyes zeroing in on your target. Your kill. "Because I have nothing left to fear."

You felt, for the first time, the Grand Inquisitor's fright as you rushed at him, your weapon moving faster than light, than sound. These moves were not the lightsaber combat variations you'd learned in your training. These moves didn't seem to be coming from you at all. Rather, as you fought, you felt the current of the coldness around you lashing out, fueling your power, all of the energy of this entire place working to destroy your enemy. You wanted blood.

Kanan came to slowly, his head swimming. He felt blood on his face, wiped it out from under his nose, trying to sit up. His vision was blurry. He felt the coldness before anything else—the depth of it startled him. Y/N, he thought desperately. Where were you? He must protect you, he must—

The Force tugged at him, and he looked up. He saw, far above where he had fallen onto one of the lower pipes snaking under the bridges, two lightsabers, one red, one blue, flying through the air. As he focused in, he watched as you fought the Grand Inquistor, and felt out through the Force.

Y/N he thought again, this time in fear—for he recognized the source of the coldness that surrounded him. He felt it emanating off of you, felt your fury, your anger, your grief, felt it all as you channeled every bit of strength you had at the being in front of you. As he watched, he caught a glimpse of gold cross your face, a dark, amber color that froze his insides. He wouldn't have thought it possible, that this current in the Force could be in your presence. He needed to get to you.

Kanan climbed, pulling himself up onto one of the lower bridges, working with his injured muscles to get closer to you. Miraculously, his lightsaber had remained in his hand despite his fall, and he hung it from his belt as he climbed. He watched as you fought, watched as you took out one side of the Grand Inquisitor's lightsaber.

"Such heroics," he heard the Grand Inquisitor say to you. "They won't bring him back."

At these words, Kanan felt a tidal wave in the Force, an energetic bomb rock through him as you screamed. It was the most horrible noise Kanan had ever heard, the coldest, most painful sound. He watched from below as you swung again, breaking the other side of the inquisitor's saber, the force of your anger pushing your opponent off the bridge entirely, compelling him to hang off the side, gripping with his gray hands.

Kanan jumped. He had to get to you. He must make sure you didn't do anything you would later regret. He pulled himself up onto the bridge you were on, too far away from you for you to see him.

Kanan watched as you looked down at the Grand Inquisitor, hanging beneath you. A fall from this height would be fatal, Kanan knew, and you seemed to know it too. Kanan saw you lower your saber to the inquisitor, hesitating.

"You have no idea what you've unleashed here today," Kanan heard the Grand Inquisitor say. Your eyes were locked on the villain's. The two of you seemed to be communicating without speaking. You lowered your lightsaber.

"There are some things far more frightening than death," the inquisitor said, softly, and, stunned, Kanan watched as the gray dark-sider let go of the bridge, falling willingly to his death.

Shock rippled through the air, through Kanan, and through you. He watched you as you stood, saw your eyes trying to parse the meaning of what the Grand Inquisitor had said. Kanan felt the cold lessen in you, felt you fighting back against it, with the Force. He hurried toward you.

"Y/N," Kanan said, calling out to you as he closed the gap between you. You looked up in disbelief, gasping. You made a sound, half cry, half wail as Kanan reached for you, pulling your body into his arms as it fell limp against him.

"It's okay," he told you, pressing his arms around you tight. "It's all okay now."

"I thought you...I thought..." you choked out, but you couldn't finish your sentence through your sobs. Kanan pushed Force calm toward you, expelling the coldness, creating an energetic bubble of light around the two of you.

"I know," Kanan said, understanding the source of the cold feeling, but pushing away his own fear for now, his thoughts only on you. "I know."

You looked up, the tears streaming out of your eyes, grabbing onto Kanan's face, onto his head. You kissed every inch of him you could reach, and he leaned down to meet you, your arms around his neck pulling him closer, pushing your cheek against his. He cherished this reunion more than you could ever know, but in the back of his mind, as he wiped the tears from your face, was the image of you, a golden glint in your eye, commanding a great cold in the air. Kanan pulled you to him, feeling your cries grow quieter and softer, your hands grabbing onto his arms, as if you needed to make sure he were real.

"We're okay," Kanan repeated, and he stroked your hair, looking up at the Lothal sky, wondering if he had, for the first time, told you a lie.

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post Episode 9!!

The Jedi and the Loth Rat Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 Episode 8

tags: @orangehightops @jedi-archives @taina-eny @sonikenu

divider credit: @djarrex

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yeonban · 7 months

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Send “What was your first impression of me?” and my muse will describe what they thought about yours, immediately after they first really interacted.

@planetarii asked: "What was your first impression of me?" you already know im going to say william and langris

❛ What a strange question... ❜ The vice-captain mutters softly, and he wonders where this question may have come from at such a random moment of their day. Still, William is well-known for being quite the giver of surprises (both positive and negative, much to their dismay) and so Langris supposes he ought to simply go along with the other's flow. ❛ I used to mainly pay attention to other people's strength levels at the time, so I'm afraid that's all I reviewed you on during the first week or so. That said, you were clearly one of the better captains, and one of the few... no, the only one I was willing to be subservient to and work under. And as you can see, that hasn't changed to this day. If you ask me, I doubt it'll change anytime soon either. ❜

A pause, and Langris makes an effort to remember every detail of their first few meetings - a demanding task, considering his previous disregard for other people's lives - but doable, since this is William they're talking about; perhaps the only person the Vaude heir has always paid at least some amount of attention to from the very start. ❛ If you'd also like to know my first impression on your personality... forgive me for saying it, but I thought you were much too lenient, and much too kind. I viewed the ease with which you forgave our mages' failures and the sympathy you felt for everyone despite them not deserving it as a liability that was bound to slow us down, but... I suppose I was wrong in that regard. ❜ A rare admission of his failures, a sign of vulnerability that only William has ever been granted the right to be privy to.

It's downright ironic, in hindsight, that the primary reason behind Langris' decision to open up towards his now-lover is the very kindness he used to consider worthless. How strange, to think that if William had reshaped his personality based on the advice he'd received on this front, Langris would have never grown comfortable enough in his presence to rely on him in any way, much less to feel the sheer fondness and adoration he presently does. ❛ You've always been amazing, William. Both as a mage and as a person. I've simply been too full of myself to notice the latter, back then. ❜

#muse: langris vaude.#planetarii #* langris vaude. / ic.#Plant I am SQUEEZING YOU like a STRESS BALL #THEY'RE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO UGH!!!#Langris being okay w admitting his failures around William bc he Knows he won't be judged nor punished for them... what if I eat my fist #AND THEN THE LAST COMMENT TOO I'm never getting over them your honor. @Langris you and your pathetic homosexuality istg...

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txciaz · 3 years

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Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #help idk what im doing

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attack-on-kiwi · 3 years

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Are you still doing the fluff alphabet? If so, would you be willing to do it for Bertl? I'm not sure if you write for him, it's okay if you don't.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Bertholdt is indifferent to what the two do. Most activities that his s/o points out are okay in his book, though he isn’t a fan of anything that forces him to stand out too much. As long as he’s spending time with them or watching out for them, he’s happy to do anything. That said, he does have a particular fondness for hiking or fishing. Both activities are peaceful and let the two enjoy mild physical activity while basking in one another’s company. There’s no stress to speak as they can just focus on their tasks at hand.

Cuddling is nice once he’s over his nervous disposition. If his s/o doesn’t mind his clammy hands and overwhelming warmth, he likes to have them secured in his arms, playing with their fingers for countless moments. Perhaps the stilling of time is why he is drawn to such an innocent passtime.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Bertholdt is drawn in by their smile. He doesn’t deserve such kindness- definitely not from someone as beautiful and admirable as themselves.It’s no stretch to say that Bertholdt’s idea of his s/o is quite inflated by how he imagines them to be an all superior and perfect individual. He’s too overcome by feelings of insecurity and stress that he’s latched onto their kindness. That smile draws him in and promises a moment of respite in this unnerving hell of an existence he bears.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He tries to ground them. He will not take any unnecessary touching in the case that they do not respond well. He’ll instead look to calm them by speaking in a level tone and guiding them through their episodes. He hates seeing them upset or panicking, and he would rather not set them off even more. Bertholdt will assess the situation as best he can, but don’t expect a passionate embrace or overly comforting words. He will just remind them that they are here and he is here. The two can sort out the issue if need be and go from there. If the situation calls for it or if his s/o approaches him for physical comfort, he has no problem embracing them for several minutes, quietly letting them seek whatever it is that is going to help them come down.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Bertholdt is too nervous and aware of his fate to give much thought to a future with his s/o. Ideally, he would like to have weekend breakfast with them and his father before taking a light stroll to a park that’s filled with happy children. He wants to take them out for sweets and to walk fearlessly hand in hand. Nothing too extraordinary. A secure life where they can live comfortably with their loved ones and enjoy their mundane lives would be ideal.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Bertholdt isn’t entirely submissive, but he does prefer his s/o to take charge. He’s a bit of a pleaser when it comes to the relationship, so he’s willing to do most things his s/o wants.

However he does have limits to his patience and if he wants something done, he’s not afraid to mention it. He’s not a shy and nervous wreck all the time, after all. If his s/o and he have been together for a while, he is much more comfortable speaking out and suggesting they try something new. It takes a lot of patience from his s/o, and most of his demands are too subtle to even give a second thought.

If Bertholdt feels like something is not going how it should, he’s quite skilled in putting a stop to it.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Getting Bertholdt angry is hard enough in the first place. His s/o either put their life in extreme danger or crossed a boundary with hi,. Bertholdt will not stand for it and will have to take time for himself. During this period of tension, he’s prone to guilt tripping and manipulating his s/o into feeling awful about the fight. Whether they played a large role or not, Berhtoldt feels the need to really emphasize that they can’t be hurting him because all he does is to ensure the two can be happy.

He doesn’t mean to be so erratic when he’s angry, but he rarely experiences anger, and being hurt by someone he finally let in scares him to no end. It’s no excuse for his irrational (at times) behavior, but it’s important for the two to have patience with one another.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Once he gets past the initial guilt of being in a relationship when he’s got the mission he has, he does feel something akin to gratefulness. If anything, he just feels immense selfishness for getting involved with someone. His mind is constantly in overdrive and is unable to rest for a moment enough to really see just what his s/o puts up with for him.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

His entire identity is a secret. Regardless of whether his s/o is from Marley or Paradis, he keeps his true self under wraps. Bertholdt is conditioned first and foremost to put his own freedom and wishes first. That means that his mission comes first, and unless he has known his s/o for years or feels extremely strong about them, he will never share anything remotely incriminating. Even if he does feel comfortable enough to share, information will be scarce and seemingly irrelevant to the bigger picture. He can’t help this tendency. He has had to be careful of every word that comes out of his mouth as it could mean life or death, and he’s not willing to risk more than necessary as he feels he’s already pushing it too far.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

The fact that he was even open to having an s/o shows that they’ve brought down the many walls (lol) he’s put up around his heart. Bertholdt’s defense mechanism is to hide and to put up a front, so when someone is able to give him enough confidence that he’s willing to love them even remotely, they can say they’ve impacted him in a way most others never have.

Bertholdt is someone who will usually partake in activities if asked, so there’s not much on the path of trying new things, but trying them with his s/o definitely feels more fulfilling to him. Even if it’s just an evening hike or going to a market when allowed, Bertholdt feels more vulnerable. His s/o is usually unaware of this until he is caught smiling at them shyly, a glimmer of his true feelings dancing across his expression.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes and no.

Bertholdt will get jealous if someone is getting too friendly and touchy with his s/o, but it takes a lot for him to step in. In fact, it’s the rarest sight to catch him towering above someone, using a steel glare and his notable height to intimidate whoever is making heart eyes and assorted moves at his s/o.

Though he is prone to jealousy due to fear of his s/o leaving him or finding out they don’t want to be with him, he is still most likely not going to step in. Bertholdt has resigned himself to the idea that he is not worthy of a long term partner and to always be prepared in the event that his s/o will leave him. When in private, he might try to guilt his s/o by saying they made him feel jealous because of how close that person was getting to them, but most times he will just hide in their neck and huff when prodded with questions.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Bertholdt never kisses anyone long enough for there to be a cohesive report on the topic. His kisses range from split second pecks to softer slightly dragged out kisses. There’s never anything fancy going on.

He likes it when his s/o has to work to get to his lips, be it they are too short or too tall to comfortably reach him. He thinks it’s endearing that they would want to kiss him even tho it can be an inconvenience to get to his lips.

Kiss his neck and he will pass out from the blood running to his cheeks. Oh, yeah. He’s a huge blusher when it comes to kisses.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It’s likely Bertholdt never utters the words until his last moments. He doesn’t have the luxury of expressing his true feelings. Whether or now his s/o is by him during those moments, their face flashes in his mind and while he’s wailing for someone to help him, he’ll think to himself, “I didn’t even say it! I didn’t even get to say it!” And then you guys know how the rest goes.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Bertholdt wants to get married. The idea of sharing his life with someone who is his better half warms his heart. If he were to propose, he’d like to do it on an evening where he and his s/o have just had dinner and are floating on a little boat through the waterways. He’d have a whole speech planned out, but the anxiety of asking would eat away at him and he rushes into the stuttering question. When his s/o says yes, he’d be too terrified of picking up the ring since he’s sweating so much, so he’d ask them to take no offense and put the ring on himself. He doesn’t want it to slip and fall into the water.

Marriage with Bertholdt is traditional. He’d like his s/o to live a carefree and comfortable life, so he’d prefer to be the one working while they stayed home or took part in whatever they aspired to. He could see his s/o opening up a bakery. They would have two pets, a dog and a cat, or maybe just two dogs that roam around bringing comfort and joy to their early morning patrons.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He sticks with calling them their name or a short variation of it.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When you strip away the nervousness he is inevitably feeling, Bertholdt is as sweet as one would think plus some more. He has a difficult time verbalizing just how he’s feeling, so he takes to making sure his s/o doesn’t need to deal with more than they have to.

This means Bertholdt will pick up chores or errands they haven’t had time to do or he’ll patch up their clothes. He makes sure that they don’t come back to more work. If they need to be held, he’s there for them. All they have to do is initiate it- that’s all he asks. He’s good at comforting them. He’s warm and large enough to fully embrace most people. He never feels like he’s doing enough or if he’s doing what he should be, but he means well.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Most people will never know Bertholdt and his s/o are an item unless his s/o is upfront. He’s not going to actively hold their hand or kiss them in front of anyone, but he won’t push them away if they want to cling to his arm. Having Reiner as a friend helps- the guy is more than happy to tell people to piss off when they try flirting with you or Bertholdt and if Bertholdt is okay with it, he’ll even tell others so they are in the know.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s smart and picks up on cooking easily. If his s/o wants a certain food, it only takes him a few moments of studying a recipe to get it correctly. The food always turns out delicious- better than the recipe itself, some would say. He uses this to his advantage when his s/o is particularly upset with him. It’s hard for him to really put into words how sorry he is, so he hopes the food is a good segway into the conversation.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He tries to be a classic romantic, but it’s hard when you have a whole can of worms eating the back of your mind at all times.

Bertholdt likes bringing them flowers when he can, and if that’s impossible, he will try to get his hands on some dried/pressed ones and see if he can encase them in resin and accessorize the items. He likes giving them gifts that last long, so they have a small collection of trinkets from him.

He is always there to lend them an ear. Even though he can’t talk much about his own problems, he is more than happy to help them sort out their feelings. Even if he could speak to them about his problems, he would rather focus on them. In a relationship, he’s overwhelmingly giving so long as his s/o stays by him no matter what it takes.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

If he has any reservations, he will let them be known, but once he is convinced his s/o is not just saying something but willing to see it through, they have his whole support. He will be willing to go through great length to help them succeed.

However, if their aspirations interfere with his own goals, he will try to subtly sabotage them or try to convince them to focus on something else. This will cause a huge rift in the relationship

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Bertholdt is content as everything is. He’s fine with having an s/o and living the same day with them. It’s peaceful when it can be, and he’d rather not risk all of that for something that may not be worth it. If his s/o wants to try something out, he will follow along but will step in if he feels they might get hurt or get the two of them in danger.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Bertholdt knows his partner inside and out. The way he knows every detail about them is pretty relative to how little they know about him. As a way to make up for not being completely honest with them, he does his best to get to know them and everything about them so that he can accommodate them reasonably. He doesn’t feel too bad about this either. He’s more comfortable giving, so he enjoys seeing his s/o light up when he remembers a tiny detail about them.

Though Bertholdt is knowledgeable about his partner, he is not the poster boy for empathy. Most of their concerns feel minor compared to the larger pictures, so he has a difficult time finding the mental capacity to even care. This surfaces in how he will tell them to be logical or offer them more realistic advice on their concerns.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is not the most important thing to him. Though it is true that he values his partner immensely, he is sadly anchored to the fact that his mission comes first and that his selfish desires of wanting solace for his loved ones will have to be but a byproduct of a successful mission. No matter what, his life and his future are going to be most impacted by said mission, so once everything is dealt with, he will prioritize everyone else.

That being said, just because his mission comes first does not mean that Bertholdt is immune to slip ups regarding his personal life. There are times when the stress and fear of losing his s/o will push him to do something ill advised so that he can secure their safety. If they ended up dying as a result of his mission and actions, he’d never recover.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

If his s/o starts complimenting him between their sweet little kisses, then Bertholdt will begin blushing and trying to escape. He doesn’t straight up run away, but he’ll cover his face with his hands as his cheeks heat up. If they ask him what he’s doing or coo to him he’ll try to choke out a flustered “I’m fine” while clearly not being fine. His s/o has the power to make him weak in the knees and must learn to utilize said power to the fullest.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Bertholdt isn’t going to initiate any form of intimacy, but once his s/o has him in their arms, he’s actually a cuddle bug. His favorite is to quietly hug them and rest his face in their neck. Sometimes he’ll kiss them wherever he can. The feeling of their hands dragging over his back and their nails scratching his scalp helps him forget that the world is terrifying just for a moment. If he falls asleep on them, it’s said that he can go the whole night without fumbling or kicking anyone.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’s good at putting those thoughts in the back of his mind. He doesn’t really give into missing them as often as he could, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss them. When he has a chance to breather, he’ll offhandedly wonder if they miss him too.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Unless he’s decided they are important enough for him, he won’t go out of his way to put his life on the line or anything. As I’ve previously mentioned, Bertholdt’s way of prioritizing his relationship is by prioritizing his mission.

#bertholdt hoover #bertholdt hoover x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #fluff alphabet #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyojin imagines #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

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elusiveink · 3 years

Text

Mr. Emergency

My entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial this week! I know - me, writing? Incredible. This is entirely unedited, I'm not gonna lie, but I'm proud to have written something for the first time in a very long time.

MR. EMERGENCY - a scientist returns to her lab to find it not quite how she left it. 1136 words, no warnings, teen rating/SFW.

The crunch of broken glass under her feet made her realise something was wrong.

The lights were off in the lab and what little security she’d run into had been drowsy and bored as ever. This part of the campus was sparsely populated at night – her colleagues would have clocked out and headed home hours ago. She paused mid-step, her foot hovering over the floor. The quiet background music of the city at night was all that she could hear: the occasional rush of traffic, wind blowing between buildings, creatures scuttling in the shadows to search for food. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she heard muffled voices coming from outside. A hair-raising moment of observation proved it was just a pair of drunk students wobbling their way home, and whilst it didn’t quiet her thundering heartbeat she felt somewhat silly for her moment of terror.

She was alone. The thought wasn’t completely comforting.

After some groping, she managed to find the light switch. Her first impulse was to turn it straight back off again. She didn’t – she knew, against all her experience of a quiet life as a semi-recluse far away from any kind of action-movie drama, that she wasn’t dreaming. Something deep within her felt resigned, having already predicted this outcome. Instead, she did what she supposed she did best (and she also supposed got her into this mess in the first place): she started to observe.

She carefully stepped over the glass – empty beakers and test tubes and dishes that had been swept from the shelves and cupboards they lived in, presumably to just throw an extra spanner in the works – and twisted to look around her. Most of the lab, she now realised, had been tampered with, even the areas she had very little to do with. The freezers of animal blood and urine had been raided and scattered and smashed with no regard for how useless they were to anyone who wasn’t studying the fertility cycles of bovines. A microscope – a very expensive microscope, she noted with a wince – was in several pieces on a table, and the centrifuge had several large dents and two panels missing. Anything that could be opened had been opened, adding papers and pencils and pipettes and trays and the odd photograph into the chaos.

She could also smell a sharp chemical stench from the store cupboard, and hoped that the room would be well-ventilated enough for any noxious mixes to air out until she could leave. Those kinds of chemical reactions were not, strictly speaking, her area of expertise.

The last time she’d visited, she’d been proud of herself for a sudden moment of foresight. She’d expected something to happen, and she wasn’t surprised when the decoy she’d planted in her freezer was gone. But even as she pulled on her gloves, she noticed that her filing cabinet was not quite where it should have been.

She felt her chest tightening as she pulled it away from the wall. How much was due to her spiking stress levels and how much was the disease catching up to her, finding a weakness in this little bit of exertion, she couldn’t say. The safe behind it swung on one hinge, obviously, glaringly, completely empty.

Almost.

The icebox with the vial of solution she’d tried to hide – the solution in a literal and metaphorical sense, the cure she’d been seeking for so long, the one she was sure would finally save the world (and perhaps win her a Nobel prize in chemistry, but that little desire remained unspoken) – had vanished. She knew this, even as she reached her hand in and felt for it, as if it had instead just become invisible and would still be hiding there somewhere. What she didn’t expect was the calling-card left behind.

A note, in barely-legible handwriting, and a single burnt match. She thought about her diary back home – or, what used to be home – torched into little more than ash, years of research turned to dust, laptops and hard-drives disappearing from her room and her office with no trace. She had a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach that she didn’t think was related to whatever was slowly but surely claiming her body cell by cell.

She also thought about a bizarre encounter at a coffee shop that occurred just days earlier, with a man in a suit and an arm-sling, his two very grumpy, very quiet friends and a very, very big gun. At first she’d been secretly excited – her strain of the virus was incurable, unlike some of the others she’d discovered, and she knew her time was limited. She felt like she was starring in her very own crime drama, somewhat invincible, and had wondered on the way back to her flat what her old university friends would have made of her now. She’d been naïve. She knew how high the stakes were, now, and she felt as far from a daring, adventurous noir heroine as it was possible to be. She felt vulnerable, and she felt afraid, and she felt lost.

She lowered herself to the floor and leant against the wall to regain some composure. She could almost taste her lunchtime tuna sandwich paying her another visit in her throat, but she swallowed it down and took big gulps of air and withdrew her phone with shaking hands. Her eyes refused to focus on the words on the screen and scrolling through her contacts was harder than it should have been. Harder still was pulling up one name in particular, the one without a photo and that stupid name she hated with a passion but hadn’t known what to change it to – Mr. Emergency.

There was nobody she wanted to call less than that slimy-looking bastard who really ought to be introduced to a shower and a sharper razor. Possibly a couple of strong mints. She could practically smell his stale-cigarettes-and-coffee breath wafting out of her phone, and she grimaced.

This was no time for superficiality, she told herself. Because, if she was honest, her best hadn’t been enough. She’d screwed things up. Whether she liked it or not, she didn’t have many other options left.

Steeling herself against the wall and before she could think twice about it, she hit dial and waited. The call almost went to voicemail, but at the last second the call picked up and she realised that had gotten herself into a pile of shit so deep that sunlight and fresh air was a distant memory. She’d passed the point of no return so long ago the last exit sign was a dot on the horizon.

That was alright, she decided before Mr. Emergency could begin speaking, it made this decision a whole lot easier.

#flash fiction #flash fiction friday #writeblr #amwriting #my writing #fiction #writers on tumblr #short story #writing #uhhhh shit ive forgotten all the tags ppl use #its been a while hasn't it? how has everyone been?#im on summer break so i want to get back into the swing of writing even tho i have no wips #this is unedited but if i like it i might post a more polished version #eventually #lets not get ahead of ourselves

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gaytransbimbo · 3 years

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hi yes so detective mode person here I have a few more theories so huh apologies again for the long post I'm so sorry but OH MY GOD

So ep.1 we have Leah telling them about this fucker Jeff right? But the girl was like so over him on the island thus WHY THE JEFF CARD? I'm gonna go with the theory of her trying to convince them she is a "young girl in love" and "pathetic" as she calls herself. Now now after all these shits happening in the island, this is not a way of talking about one's self. She survived, she found out it was a set up, an experiment (I have a theory of Nora coming clean after the shark and telling them everything) so THEY KNOW they're part of an experiment but, well, they cannot really leave the island yet so when "rescue" comes they go.

SO - the Jeff card - weird and out of the fucking blue when we know the story. Theory, Leah tries to confuse the agents, meaning she knows the thing is not over. And then we jump to ep.6 when the Creepy Agent visits her privately. Leah opens up. Tells him about the mussels. Tells him all about the paranoia she felt towards Shelby and the island; "things got dark". But now now her body language is like - guarded but open - a bit defensive before opening up a bit again.

And then Creepy Agent starts fucking with her head and we see Leah's eyes hardening bit by bit when - thinking about it - it could be about the stuff he says reaching her and bringing out a perfectly logical defensive reaction of snapping. "You are looking at me like I am some criminal" he didn't look at her like that AT ALL and we know her mind is reaching out for things -not rightly so most of the time- but there is still a grasp on what she is saying. But in this scene we see it playing out more like delirium. Instead of starting to defend herself clearly - Leah snaps out, standing and hitting him. Her hands fall away from around her body and the snapping words and hits are not defensive but attacking.

A lot like how she came at Shelby on the bitch. Not at all how she reacted with Nora after she found her on a tree and woke up the next morning. Leah went from attacking to stalking, the delirium under full control by the end of the season in the island and I don't think the delirium in this scene with the Agent is in character.

And then the nurse comes in and Leah doesn't even TRY to step away from the woman. She doesn't try to calm down the words and show submission or even step the fuck away! Leah wasn't cornered physically in this scene - first reaction should have been her backing away toward the bed to create some space between herself and the sedative. But she chose to run tight between them and toward the bathroom and the bathroom doesn't have a door??? which means she'd be completely trapped in there. But she didn't get to it, Creepy Agent catches her and she is put down.

Now now jumping a bit to ep.10 Leah's manipulation skills are out of the fucking world. I'm talking about the garden. Young gives her a phone and she seems to soften completely and apologize for trying to go to maps app. BUT she doesn't fucking soften because Shelby has already given her the note and Creepy Agent has already pulled his harsh shit in ep.6 and Leah does not fucking trust Agent Young at all. But we still see her softening and turning submissive and apologizing AND LISTEN NOW THIS IS THE REAL LEVEL OF THE MANIPULATION SKILLS AND HOLY CRAP AM I AWED MAN.

ep.6 we have the recruitment scene in the hospital when Creepy Agent comforts Gretchen of using truth "under an artful sense of deception" or something. And YO GUYS okay the girls are using the truth of the island as a way of manipulation. They know what is going on and they are trying to get as much information as possible. Leah knows what is going on and is playing the vulnerable girl with obsessive issues.

NOW THIS MIGHT BE ME LOOKING TOO MUCH into shit. This could be a theory worth to be thrown out of the window and never seen again. But if this is right at some extent HOLY MOTHER OF GOD my head is blown because if this is correct then Leah like faked the whole delirium thing in ep.6 and wasn't afraid to be drugged to get the Agent out of the room and her fucking head.

this was long (sorry) and stretched to a point of not standing on steady bases but fuck me I'm bored and this show is incredible. I stand by the point that my theories are better than the Gretchen stupid experiment of destroying patriarchy. like what the fuck patriarchy is a part of capitalism you won't get rid of it without completely taking down a system of exploitation fuck me.

omg you are back i love u

and ooo interesting points! i remember someone pointing out how similar gretchen’s breakdown in the clinic and leah’s in the banker is and that it's a parallel.so maybe leah did it on purpose too... i totally agree that it’s super out of character for her to talk about jeff (or anything) that openly... unless she wants to throw them off!!! she definitely doesn’t buy their lies and she doesn't trust them. i also remember reading a theory that leah fabricated her “breakdown” to see how fast the nurses would react + what medication/responses were available and that it was perhaps a way to check if it would be safe for shelby to eat shellfish and go into shock so she could escape. assuming they planted the escape together which i highly suspect. I don’t think Leah acting her breakdown scene is unlikely tbh i can see it

#the wilds #the wilds theory #the wilds theories #asks

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sslasherss · 4 years

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what happens the first time jason shows his s/o his face? does he show them willingly, or does his s/o convince him? how would they react??? I'M SORRY I HAVE SO MANY FEELS ABOUT THE LORGE BOI OKAY

This is probably out of character, but I really wanted to write something disgustingly sweet & tender :P What version of Jason am I basing him off of? Probably a mix of pt 2 & remake tbh.

RIP mobile users.

—–

Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure how you had ended up like this, face pressed so close to Jason’s mask that you could see your own breath pluming across its surface. One moment you had been laughing, launching yourself into his arms as he hooked an elbow around your waist - and the next, one wrong step had sent you both tumbling to the ground.

Jason’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling against your own. His broad, muscular body had broken your fall but now here you were, trapping him beneath you. Well, you were certain he could simply toss you off of him if he wanted; but he hadn’t moved an inch. For that matter, neither had you.

This was possibly the closest you had ever been to him, the closest he had ever let you be to him, and you didn’t want it to end. You stared at him with wide eyes, lips parted in a soft oh as you shifted on top of him. Your legs were beginning to go numb from the awkward way they were tossed across his hips. Straddling him. You didn’t care.

Your hands inched upward, toying with the neckline of his grey t-shirt. There was a sliver of skin showing, pale in the dim light, between t-shirt and mask. His skin was always so warm, soft despite his line of ‘work’. Slowly your hand travelled up, trailing across his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck.

Jason watched you through lidded eyes, a sigh escaping his hidden lips. It wasn’t until your exploring hand reached the edge of his mask that he froze up, his own hand snapping up to stop you. Even then, he was so gentle.

“May I?” you whispered.

You expected refusal, of course, but your heart still plummeted as he turned his face away. Jason scrambled to his knees and you slid from him, the floor cold even beneath your jeans.

He stood - and you stood too, eye level barely reaching his broad chest. Jason never spoke - yet he didn’t need to. The tense way in which he held himself, the tilt of his head that made eye contact impossible. It spoke volumes.

You had seen Jason tear the limbs from victims, seen him blood splattered and enraged, and it had never made you bat an eye. But this, seeing him so vulnerable, it hurt. Without thinking you reached out a hand, cupping his cheek - Jason flinched, but allowed the contact. “I won’t judge, you know,” you murmured. Then, standing on your toes, you pressed a kiss to his mask.

He relaxed then, shoulders slumping as he leaned into your touch.

You smiled, heart swelling with love. Yet you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss him properly. “I love you,” you murmured against the cold mask, “you know that, don’t you? Whatever you’re so afraid to show me, I’ll love that part of you too.”

His hand twitched, perhaps to reach out to you, before dropping heavily back to his side. For a moment the two of you just stared, not quite meeting each other’s eyes. Then Jason turned to you, his one visible eye downcast. Large hands made sweeping motion toward his face, gesturing for you to… close your eyes?

Anxiously, you obeyed. Eyes fluttered close, heart skittering in your chest. You knew what was coming, had longed for it for so long - yet with your deepest desire within grasp you found your pulse quickening. You supposed many people would have built up an image in their mind, would have a - probably inaccurate - mental picture. You never had. Jason was just - well, Jason.

But as you heard the click of his mask unlatching and the quiet shuffle of nervous feet, your breath hitched.

A tap on your shoulder told you he was ready. You gave him a moment to step back, heart aching to see him, and your eyes fluttered open.

The mask sat on the coffee table in the corner, Jason’s face on full display. Yet even still he tried to hide from you, head tilted away, calloused hands covering the right side of his features. When you stepped forward he scrambled back, a little gasp caught in his throat.

Gentle, oh so gently, you pried his hands from his face. One hand stayed laced with his while the other cupped his cheek, turning him to face you. He simply huffed in response, finally allowing you to see him in full.

The left corer of his lip pulled upward, a deep crevice revealing uneven teeth. Yet it wasn’t his left side that caught your attention but his right, where almost every inch of skin seemed marred. His right eye milked over, either by cataracts or damage you couldn’t tell. When his gaze shifted to you, that milky white eye didn’t move in time with his right. The entire left side of his face was a misaligned; blind eye sitting lower than the other, his jaw jutting to one side in a considerable underbite. He didn’t even have an ear; just a mess of overgrown cartilage.

You couldn’t deny that Jason was an… acquired sight. But God, he was gorgeous.

Jason twitched under your gaze, eyes downcast as if waiting for rejection. Yet he didn’t pull away when you reached up to ghost a hand across his cheek. Instead he smiled, twisted lips curving in a way that didn’t seem possible.

Your own lips tugged into a smile as you leaned in close. It was making him uncomfortable - this affection, this closeness - but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him. “I love you,” you murmur again, lips pressing to his jaw, “I love you, and I love your face, and I’m so grateful that you trust me enough to let me see you.”

He was shaking under your gentle touch, shoulders hunching as he wrapped his enormous frame around yours. You thought he might have been holding back tears - but Jason never cried, so you gave him the benefit of pretending not to notice. Instead you looped one arm around his waist, tugging him close to pepper kisses across his face. You started with his neck, giggling as he squirmed under your attention. Before long your attentive touch moved to his jaw, travelling across the expanse of marred skin.

Finally you let your kisses wander to his twisted lips. He flinched at first, tensing up, but as soon as you huffed out a little sigh he melted.

His lips moved in tandem with your own, skin so soft despite the way it looked. You could have lost yourself in his embrace, soaking up his warmth. You pushed closer, desperate for his touch as you deepened the kiss. His inexperienced showed in his awkward movements, teeth bumping against yours - but it was perfect.

When you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, Jason whined. Such a tiny sound from such an enormous man caught you off guard and you giggled against his mouth - but soon enough his arms were around you. Pulling you closer, desperate to feel you against him.

By the time you broke away, your cheeks were flushed crimson. A laugh escaped you and for a moment you were left reeling. Even better was the sight of Jason, grinning so broadly as he held you close. You reached up to brush a hand across the left side of his face, wishing you could stare at him all day.

After a moment he snapped back to reality - and he must have remembered he was still on display because he reached for the hockey mask still lying on the coffee table, movements flustered. There was panic in his eyes - panic that only dimmed when you caught his hand in yours.

“You don’t need that around me,” you assured gently, “I won’t stop you, but do you think you could keep it off? Just for a while?”

His hesitance was clear, brows furrowed - but then he nodded, the mask dropping back onto the table with a dull thud.

“Perfect,” you murmured, reaching up for another kiss.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #Anonymous #fic

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mbti-notes · 4 years

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Hello! I'm an INFJ and I wanted to ask if you had any advice for a very opaque/blank mental state when reflecting. Asking questions such as who I am, what I want to be, or what my ego looks like don't prompt me to figure my life out, rather, they make me confused and stressed. I try to think what makes me so ego-heavy (e.g. I get insecure when someone mentions that your blog is bad or your ideas are misguided; I have very little ability to care for things other than my 'success') but the [1]

[con’t: ‘reasons’ change every time I think. That’s why I tend to be solving completely different ‘problems’ each time I think. I thought my intention for pursuing development was negative but even when thinking about that I don’t come to clear solutions. What can I do? Thank you.]

Any good idea becomes a terrible idea when you don’t know how to apply it properly. You’ve taken the concept of “development” and made it personal by turning it into an “identity” issue, otherwise, you wouldn’t feel insecure upon hearing criticism. This is exactly the kind of mentality that I reject and explicitly warn people against. There is no self-help idea out there that is “universally” applicable to everyone everywhere, because every person has their own unique set of issues, and one theoretical framework cannot hope to adequately cover all of the possible problems that human beings suffer. If life were that simple, the field of psychology would’ve hung up its hat a long time ago.

Transference is a common issue that comes up in therapy. When you make yourself vulnerable to someone’s influence (which is what you’re doing when you reach out for help), you’re likely to transfer your issues onto the person who helps because you are invested in how they evaluate you. For example, some people transfer their parental issues onto me, such as wanting to impress me, fearing my “judgment”, rebelling against what I say, feeling inexplicably triggered or defensive, etc. I have zero interest in that drama. My role is simple, I volunteer my time to provide a change in perspective to people who ask me for it, nothing else. You seem quite invested in how everyone evaluates you, but I have absolutely no desire to “judge your worth” in the way that you fear.

The fact is that you aren’t psychologically ready for the kind of development that you’re attempting. To put it in ego development language: you’re attempting level 5 development when it sounds like you are still at level 2. Why do you believe that you can just skip over all the hard work in between? You can’t. Life goes like this: You live, you make decisions, you make mistakes, you learn from them, you grow incrementally. You are clearly very afraid of feeling like a “failure”, and that insecurity is what motivates all of the defensive Ti rumination and intellectualizing. What you haven’t yet understood is that you must dive in and make the mistakes in order for the lessons to sink in, sink all the way into your soul - mistakes and failures are ESSENTIAL to the learning process. Keep trying to avoid and sidestep this fact and you’ll get nowhere. You’re impeding the learning process with your own fearful perfectionism. Are you trying to avoid living your life because you’re scared of living your life? Then confront your fear first rather than pretending to reflect on intellectual matters like “who am I?”

Stop lying to yourself and start being completely honest about what it is you want. You obviously want “success” of the sort that will get you external validation from society (level 2 success that is also related to Fe development). Yet you feel guilty for wanting it because you’re trying to live up to some image that you yourself created of being someone who’s “above it all”, when the reality is that you aren’t above it at all. Being in denial leads to being blank when you look within, because you don’t want to see the truth of what’s inside. You say that looking within makes you stressed? Of course it does, because, on some unconscious level, you already know that you’re not going to like what you see, as you’d rather see yourself in fake images of perfection. If level 2 success and validation is what you truly desire, then that is precisely what you should pursue - be true to what you really are. One day, perhaps, you might realize that you want something different, but until then - until you “make the mistake” - you can’t predict what else there is for you, and it’s pointless to speculate about it. Speculative ideas don’t magically become life lessons, since mere speculation makes it all too easy to engage in self-deception. It is only the hard-earned, real-life, sink-into-your-soul lessons that facilitate genuine growth.

#infj #perfectionism #development #self help #ask

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lokiarsene · 4 years

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I really love your blog and reading your analysis and thoughts are always very intriguing and eye opening at times too. I'm not very good with words so excuse the mess that is this message... I just saw the anon who didn't listen to your reply at all and accused you of 'armchair diagnosing' and how it is 'bothersome' to have their illness applied to a character, I just wanted to say that's not true at all and as someone with depression it really does help me to know that I'm not really alone.

continuing… And I just wanted to say thank you for everything, I really love what you do and checking your blog really is a highlight of my day.

Art isn’t created in a vacuum. Many ill artists have throughout the course of human history used art as a medium to channel their illnesses, either as a coping mechanism, and expression of it for catharsis, or as a deliberate way to show what they’ve endured. Even those who did not know what they suffered still found a way to express it, and it’s only after the fact have psychologists, biographers, literary researchers, and even just regular people been able to draw parallels or recognize patterns because of their own experiences. This is even easier–and perhaps wiser–to do when the person you are comparing yourself to is a fictional character.

Neon Genesis Evangelion is the most famous example of depicting mental illnesses in modern Japanese media. Hideaki Anno was severely, suicidally depressed as he developed Evangelion, and channeled that pain into the story, the characters, and themes. Every single character in that cast has traits of clinical depression (at the very least) because the creator had depression, and was exorcising those particular ‘demons’ through fiction. He did this knowingly, consciously, and willingly.

That’s why Evangelion has struck a chord with people of different ages, across different cultures, and indeed with different mental illnesses. I do not have clinical depression, yet depression and suicidal ideation are traits of my illnesses. Ergo, I can understand how it feels. It’s the same pain with a different cause. That’s why Evangelion is an incredibly grueling yet emotionally satisfying piece of media, and it’s why I heartily recommend everyone watch it (although don’t watch it alone). It’s also very obviously one of the major inspirations for Persona 5 Royal and Akeshu, which I will not elaborate on because of spoilers.

But why did I bring that up? Well, you mentioned how my post about Akechi and BPD helps you, as someone with depression, realize you aren’t alone. It takes courage to admit that to someone; you are voluntarily revealing personal information about your health to a stranger, and to all the strangers who read this post. That’s incredibly brave. What’s more, by stepping up and saying that, by reaching out, you are removing yourself from loneliness and isolation.

Does that make sense?

One of the major themes of Evangelion and the crux of all the characters’ individual arcs, is a thing called “Hedgehog’s dilemma.” As the show describes it, this dilemma is the pain caused by people when they get close to each other: the closer you are to someone–the more you care about someone–the more susceptible you are to hurting them or being hurt by them, because your feelings for them are so strong. Some people are so afraid of this possibility of pain that they refuse to get close to anyone–but that only causes pain, too.

You know how it’s somewhat of a meme these days to joke about submitting to “the mortifying ordeal of being known”? That’s Hedgehog’s dilemma.

Evangelion also respresents the idea of the fear of being alone–and the “mortifying ordeal of being known”–and the fear of getting too close with another concept called an AT Field: an Absolute Terror Field. An AT Field is an invisible barrier that protects Eva units from being physically harmed, yet it’s a shield that can be broken through if enough damage is done, and thus make the Eva and the pilot vulnerable. The show also goes on to say that all humans have an AT Field around their hearts. AT Fields are an invisible, intangible form of defense that breaks down when we bond with others. Again, to let someone into your life is to invite the equal potential for happiness and pain.

So why do it? So why risk pain simply for a chance at happiness? Why bother letting anyone in at all? Because loneliness and isolation is making the possibility of pain into an absolute certainty. Loving others, reaching out to them, getting to know them, trying to understand them, is removing pain as a certainty, and balancing it with the equal potential for comfort and happiness. There is a very obvious parallel here with something in Persona 5 Royal, but I do not want to get into it because of spoilers. I would be happy to answer it in another ask, though.

Humans are social creatures. We socialize every day, in varying ways, to varying degrees, with varying levels of intimacy. We are never alone–which isn’t something I say to make you paranoid, or to dismiss the loneliness you felt, feel, and may feel in the future. I say that because I myself am an incredibly lonely person. I feel it to debilitating degrees, even now. And the only remedy to this loneliness is to make an effort daily, no matter how small, to reach out to someone else. To do something for them. To take the time to leave a comment, or check in on them, to send them a meme or a joke or a piece of art I think will make them happy.

This isn’t advice I dispense without personal experience or without medical evidence to back me up. One of the tasks given to me by my psychologist in therapy is to once a day, every day, write down something I did for someone else or something they did for me. By doing this, I am making the conscious choice to bring my attention things I do every day that prove I am not alone. This is one of the many ways to treat cognitive distortions (yes, yes, I know, but my therapist licherally said that we are going to help heal and dismantle my cognitive distortions, because that’s what Dialectic Behavioral Therapy and Cognitive BT does, and I couldn’t help but laugh and think of Persona 5).

Now, what does all that have to do with Persona 5/Akeshu, depicting mental illnesses in art, and this ask? Well, Persona as a series is all about creating relationships with others. It’s so blatantly obvious and so inextricably woven into the core themes of the game that I almost don’t think I have to point it out. I think people (even fans–even myself!) can lose sight of that crucial tenet of the series.

Persona is also a series about exploring the internal self and the external expression of the self. One of those forms of expression is socializing. Another is art. Sometimes, the act of exploring your internal self comes with the realization that you are ill. That means your external expression of that self will reflect, at times, some traits of that illness. You are not your illness–there is more of “you” than that–but your illness is a part of you, and can make itself known in how you express yourself.

So. What does that have to do with your ask? Because you, by sending this message–by following this blog, by keeping tabs on any of the rambles me and Mod Sirea make when the fancy strikes us–are making a deliberate, willful choice to keep your loneliness at bay. You are creating a barrier between the pain of loneliness and your Self–capital “S” self, or your “heart” if you prefer. You do that without even knowing it, and I bet you do something like that every day. Every person you talk to, every Tweet you read, every text you send; every person you sit next to on the bus or in class; every cashier, barista, wait staff, etc. that you speak to is you making connections with others, however small, however fleeting, however brief. Even if these people do not know “you,” do not engage with you in a personal way, you are still experiencing life with them.

You realize you are not alone, and you assert that you do not want to be alone, and so you make yourself “not alone.” You look at your loneliness and say, “no, not today.” You stand up to your illness, to your fear, to your pain, and you do not let it win. That’s brave. That’s powerful. That’s strength. Even if you don’t feel brave, or powerful, or strong. Maybe you might not like being called that, either. I know sometimes I don’t. But I also know that sometimes the only way we can be strong is by being tested. We endure, and endurance is resilience is resistance is strength.

And Akechi and Akiren would be very, very proud of you. I know I am.

#mod krist #long post #Anonymous #this is the ask tag

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crossroadsimagine · 4 years

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🎭 Could I get a match up for fruits basket and noragami? Im collaborative and a team player. I'm socially flexable and a good communicator. I love investigating and I'm rule oriented, if I agree. I'm creative and live theater and writing. I can interact with people I don’t know on a personal level and find common topics to discuss or talk about topics i haven’t thought about. I'm emotionally distant but in observant of others! I have chin length pink hair and hazel eyes. I'm also 4'10! Thanks!

☰ Matched with Ayame

You will catch his eye almost immediately and he won’t waste much time at all in approaching you, while your appearance is what initially draws him to you, he will quickly fall in love with your personality and who you are as a whole. He can be pretty forward, suggestive and flirty with you rather early on, but he doesn’t over do it and will tone it down if he notices you pulling away or feeling uncomfortable by him.

Though he is pretty direct he won’t ask you out right away because he will want to get to know you better and on a deeper level first, rather then just jumping into a relationship without really knowing each other. When he does ask you out it will seem really random and out of the blue, but he will actually put quite a it of thought into when and how he should ask you out.

But he also won’t make a big ordeal out of asking you out or at least not in a public way like drawing a crowd or anything, instead he will take you somewhere the two of you can be fairly alone or a place where people won’t really be watching or paying attention to the two of you. Something surprisingly simple for him like taking you to a rooftop, park, botanical garden or even the zoo or a play. This way the two of you can spend time together and he will ask you out plain and simple towards the end of the evening, expressing his feelings for you as well for you can truly understand how he feels for you.

Once the two of you begin dating, he is very affectionate, caring and attentive though he may not always seem like the best listener but when it comes to you, he pays close attention to the things you say. Because he is so attentive, he can be very good when it come to making plans for dates together or when it comes to getting you presents particularly for special occasions. Of course, because he does make and design clothes, he can often times design clothing for you whether for gifts or just randomly because he had an idea for you.

He can make a point to design things he knows you with like whether it’s making a replica of a dress or outfit from one of your favorite plays or movies or just listening to things you didn’t like about your clothes like maybe wishing for better pockets or wishing clothing fit your body or curves better.

He can be kind of childish at times and even seem pretty impulsive and impatient particularly when he’s bored, but he also has a very patient and understand side to him when it comes to you. Though he can often nudge you out of your comfort zone he is very reassuring and loving, he won’t force you to open up to him or do things you aren’t ready to. You can be emotionally distant but he won’t mind and will just see it more of a trust issue, like you are afraid to show a vulnerable side because you’ve been hurt in the past.

He will work to prove himself to you and show you how you can trust him and depend on him in any circumstances, he’ll wait for you to open up and let him in on your own without him having to push you. He adores how creative you are because this means you are both creative and love the arts, he will love hearing your opinion on arts in general and takes a keen interest in what you like to write and will really show a curiosity in reading things you have written if you will let him. He will focus many dates on more artistic and creative ideas, going to the theater, museums, gardens, historical sites, sightseeing or hands on dates like taking dance lessons, pottery, art, paint classes and more.

He does adore how much of a team player you are and how flexible you can be, he tends to see you as the more level headed and reasonable one. Which makes him really value your thoughts and point of view on different matters especially when it comes to important decisions or problems.

When it comes to a holiday like Valentine’s Day, he can go a little bit over board unless you insist, he doesn’t, but even then, you are still going to be showered quite a bit with gifts. However, his gifts aren’t just the typical chocolates and stuffed animals that most people like to do for Valentine’s Day, instead he will plan a special get away perhaps a trip somewhere special or just to relax for the weekend. Along with this will come the meaningful gifts, things he knows you like and collect maybe it’s jewelry, books, art supplies.

There will also be a romantic dinner either out at a nice restaurant or at home which ever he thinks you will enjoy more, this will likely be before the two of you leave for the trip or while the two of you are away on the trip particularly if you would rather go out, this way he can take you out to a new fancy restaurant and really spoil you. Because he will plan a trip like this it won’t simply be a one-day occasion to celebrate the holiday which he takes as a holiday to show you just how much he loves you it’ll be a 2 to 3-day affair.

Over all he is very caring, considerate and completely loyal to you and will constantly show you his love for you, he isn’t overly protective of you and doesn’t get jealous easily because he has complete trust you and the relationship the two of you have. He can be a bit insecure at times worrying that you deserve better or he’s not good enough which is why he can go out of his way often to shower you with love and attention.

However, he rarely openly talks about his own insecurities because he doesn’t like to feel like he’s bringing you down and likes for you and the atmosphere to be cheerful. He does stand up for you and will always have your back no matter the situation and he really encourages you to do whatever you want to do in life and he will be behind you and support you the whole way.

☰ Headcanons Between you two

■ Ayame is very affectionate and loving with you and tends to even be quite romantic particularly when it comes to special occasions or holidays. But he can even randomly surprise you with gifts, from flowers, jewelry, things you collect etc.

■ Hates seeing you unhappy and can go quite out of his way to cheer you up, even if it’s just by doing simple things like going for a walk, taking you out to eat, stargazing, or even just talking or telling you stories to try and make you laugh.

■ He is affectionate and not afraid to be the dominant one and smother you with attention and affection, in fact, he can even be very smothering at times because he does genuinely adore your attention and being near you but none the less, he can come across as clingy.

■ Tends to go out of his way to try and impress you or when you over even after the two of you begin dating, he will like surprising you and seeing your eyes light up when he gets you something special or plans something special for the two of you.

☰ Other Possible Matches

● Yato

Yato absolutely adores you and makes it pretty obvious from the first time he meets you, he’s not afraid to point out how cute you are. He finds your appearance adorable because of your short stature and pink hair and will even flat out compliment your appearance, telling you how cute you are nearly every time he sees you. Though his attitude towards you may not initially seem like he’s interested in you romantically and chances are he probably won’t have romantic feelings for you right from the start and instead treats you as a good friend. Though he can be rather intrusive and clingy when it comes to getting to know you and even more so once he does begin developing feelings for you. He can be affectionate with you but can also be kind of awkward and shy at other times, but he really cares deeply for you once he does develop feelings for you which makes him very understanding and attentive with you.

● Momiji

Is very caring, friendly and attentive with you right from the start, though he does not show an immediate interest in you romantically. He just wants to get to know you and be friends with you at first, but it really doesn’t take very long for him to develop feelings for you. But at the same time he does not rush to turn things into a romantic relationship and instead will build a strong friendship with you first and kind of ask questions to see if you may be interested in him, but will not flat out ask you out or ask you directly if you like him in a romantic way. He will be very loving, encouraging and reassuring with you when the two of you are dating, he wants to bring out the best in you and help you with any and all problems and above all else cheer you up when you are down and constantly show you how much he loves you.

#Match up #Match ups #Valentine match up #Fruits basket #Noragami #Ayame match up #headcanons

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jinxthequeergirl · 5 years

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Not the villain (pt.3)

Crowley x reader

Summary: in the weeks leading to your coronation you spend more time with crowley,Aziraphale catches wind of crowleys plan and Haster becomes more of an issue than either side would have guessed.

Warning: none

~~~~~~

"This here is my trusty steed Bentley. Who you've already had the pleaser of meeting him but not formally."

Crowley introduced you to the tall solid black horse and you marveled at him. "Wow he's really something isn't he?" you brought your hand up to his snout and stroked it softly allowing him to lean into it. "Oh you are a pretty boy aren't you? Yes you are!" Crowley stood back and admired you with a slightly tilted head and content grin.

In the weeks leading up to your official corrination which also happened to be your birthday. You spent more time with Crowley. You had some how managed to convince Aziraphale you didn't need him at every waking hour.

Then again it wasn't hard since he spent most of his time now making the most of his library. When you step inside to visit your friend you found it hard to spot the man for now books that used to sit on the rows and rows of selves now sat in large towering stacks.

Nedless to say he wasn't going to stop you from doing what you wanted and you wheren't going to drag him from What he wanted.

Crowley lifted you onto Bentley and took the rains leading the both of you onto town.

As the both of you went out to shop and perhaps get lunch. Aziraphale sat happily in his window seat, nose in a book and a spot of tea beside him.

"Aziraphale where is the queen?" he jumped splashing tea back on to him. "Oh gabriel!" he stood up placing the book down and looking up at Gabriel. "What a lovely surprise..."

"Yea yea where is she?"

"She's...out.."

"Out? Alone?"

Aziraphale nodded happily. "That's right she's not a child she can go where she pleases with out a guardian...plus people respect her no ones going to-"

"See that's where you are wrong Aziraphale.hell has apparently sent a demon to kill her! Now that she's out alone who knows what sort of trouble she's in!"

Aziraphale turned pale. "They sent a demon?...any idea who?"

Gabriel shrugged picking up a book from one of the shorter stacks. "I assume that Crowley fellow...they trust him with most things..." Aziraphale quickly ran to the doors. "I'm so sorry Gabriel I need to find y/n!"

And with that he quickly ran to the stables to gather his horse and head into town to find her.

You and Crowley had your arms stuffed with treats and goodies from the town market. "Crowley!" you placed the few items you had in your arms on a near by table and dragged him to the center of a group of dancing people in the town center. "What are you doing?"

"WE are going to dance!" you pulled him close to you and posisoned him. "Y/n I can't dance very well."

"Trust me neither can I." he arched a brow at you as you attempted to follow along with the groups movement. "Aren't you supposed to know how to dance?"

"I never payed attention to my dance lessons. My mom would tell me they where pointless since a queen has the choice to dance or not to dance."

He laughed as you spun yourself around. Crowley on some level very very deep down knew he was going to have to do something to kill you. But for the past few weeks he found that thought slipping away and instead of anticipating how to get rid of you he anticipated seeing and spending time with you.

And before you knew it he was following along with the dance fully. He lifted you up and spun you around before placing you back down.

You laughed gleefully as the dance finished and he dipped you. "I thought you wheren't very good at dancing."

"You've changed me."

You smiled looking into his eye's wondering what they looked like behind the glasses he wore. You reached up to snag them from his face.

Crowley lifted you up still holding you in his arms staring into your eyes before shutting his eye's bracing himself for you to take his glasses from his face. And just as your fingers brushed the rim something caught both there attention.

"Aziraphale!" they both said spotting the man riding in on his horse. "Come on!" you grabbed Crowley hand ready to run to Bentley but he had spotted you.

"Princess!" you winced and stoped to look at him still holding Crowleys hand in your.

The diffrance and only thing at the moment that put Crowley above Aziraphale Was the fact that Crowley didn't treat you like royalty he treated you as an equal or if he did he treated you like a queen.

Where as Aziraphale treated you like a delicate little princess who couldn't handle herself.

"Aziraphale? What a pleasent suprise! I didn't expect you to see you here." Crowley smirked at you. You had picked up on a lot of things from him.

"Y/n I thought I clearly instructed you to stay away from him!"

"Aziraphale for heavens sake please! He hasn't done a single thing to hurt me! He's not a bad person!"

"I don't think You have all the facts my lady." Crowley raised an eyebrow challenging his friend.

"And you do?"

Aziraphale averted his attention to you. "Y/n please take my horse back home I need to have a word with my old friend here."

"No absolutely not! Crowley is my friend too whatever you have to say to him you can say to me too."

You stood infront of him slightly and Crowley smiled at you and Your protective action but saw the serious look on Aziraphale.

"Ah you know what..." Crowley pulled you aside taking your free hand in his. "Why don't you take Bentley here back home give me a chance to talk to Aziraphale."

You opened your mouth to protest but he continued flashing a charming smile at you. "If you have Bentley you instantly give yourself no choice but to return him?" you smiled.

"Alright I'll go!"

"Fair well your majesty" he kissed your hand before you walked over to Bentley and departed for the castle.

"So what exactly was the plan? Get close enough to her so you build up trust? Then what poison? Maybe that's to simple for you."

"Now Angel I can explain!"

"Oh please do I'm dying with anticipation."

Crowley rolled his eye's and walked past Aziraphale stoping momentarily to see that he was following. Once Aziraphale turned to join his friend Crowley began to explain himself.

"It is true my job was to kill her so that chaos would fill the kingdom's...but...."

"But?"

He sighed. "Something happened and that first time I couldn't bring myself to do it...then she found me that night and I still couldn't...how can I?"

Aziraphale watched him talk with a raised eyebrow. "She's so good and pure! You can't just kill some one so perfect you know?"

Aziraphale stopped and smiled.

"Well Crowley I'll be damed!"

"Wait?"

"Well if I didn't know any better I'd say you've fallen in love with the princess!"

Crowley stoped and looked at his friend with his jaw almost to the floor. "I am anything but in love with y/n...I mean sure she's sweet, and her eyes! They hold so much in them!" he stopped and laughed as he went into a story about you. Aziraphale just stood there listening with a know it all expression waiting for him to realize.

Crowley did stop taking note of his friend and slowly let it sink in. "Oh no..."

Aziraphale laughed and pat him on the back. "Oh crowley..."

"I-i can't be...no I..am I?"

"I'm afraid so!"

That night Crowley returned to his castle. Still in awe about his discovery he flopped down onto his throne, took his glasses of and rubbed his face in distress.

He grabbed a goblet from almost thin air and prepared to drink from it when it began to speak. "Crowley!"

He sighed looking at the front of it. "Haster?"

"Is it done?" Crowley gulped. "Well you see I've devised a plan to get close to her so I can do it when shes most vulnerable..." Haster stared at him though the goblet. "Get.it.done."

Haster's vison of Crowley dwindled away and he turned from the mirror he used to contact him.

"Well?" another demon asked. "Is it true?"

Haster nodded. "It is."

"And?"

"We'll have to do it ourselves it seems"

Haster growled as he walked away. "How do you suppose we get rid of Crowley AND the Angel?"

Haster smirked. "Don't worry about that.

Tagging:

@writer-of-camelot

@lemoncitrusgurl

@a--1--1--3

@sophiematskiv

@ibjessjess

@dadzawas-eyebags

@eagelandbutterfly

@tatums-a-penguin

#crowley x reader #good omens x reader

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teamdrake27 · 5 years

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Home "Open Heart" "Choices Fanfic".

Pairing: Ethan x MC.

Author's note: It's been a while since the last time I wrote a fanfiction. I hope I did okay. English is not my mother's language so forgive me if there's some mistakes. 😇💜

- Kate leans closer to him, so close that their lips are almost touching but then she suddenly stops, leaving only an inch between their lips. Ethan breathes in sharply. Every wall he built falling as he aches to taste those lips again.

"How long are you going to resist, Ethan?" He feels a burn inside his chest as he hears his name on her lips for the first time since Miami. He was burning with desire.

"Come on...kiss me!" She said seductively.

He was struggling, so much struggling. He wanted this and he knew that he doesn't have that much self control around her to stop himself.

Just when he leaned to kiss her-

"You're drooling on the documents, Ethan!".

"Huh?!"

He jolts awake to find Harper standing infront of him, hands on her hips as she watched him sleep and drool over the documents. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand then rubs his tired eyes in exhaustion.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't work that long?! Look at you! You'll die alone on that chair of yours!". The mention of death reminds him of the condition of his only family, Naveen. He frowns.

"Thank you for waking me up, Harper" He says putting on his sweater. Even though you interrupted such an amazing dream.

"Seriously?! That's all you have to say?" She says clearly annoyed.

"I'm not in the mood for your life facts and lectures, Harper. I'm happy with how I'm living. I'll see you tomorrow" He says as he walks past her outside the office. She sighs frustrated as she walks out of the office to allow him to lock it.

"Keep telling yourself that, Ethan" She said before leaving him to lock the door. He knew that it was a lie, though he never shows his true feelings and emotions to anyone in this world except two people. Dr. Banerji and Kate. It's probably the hardest days of his entire life. He lost his friend a few weeks ago and now he is losing his only family, Naveen. Not to mention his strong feelings for the new intern that are torturing him day and night, even when he is sleeping. He can't rest at all. He hasn't felt that exhausted in his entire life. But despite all the exhaustion he decided to check on Dr. Banerji before he leaves. Not that exhaustion stopped him before.

Just when he reached the room. He realized that Naveen isn't alone. She was there covering him with the blanket. Tears falling down her cheeks as she stared at the old man lying on his death bed.

He never saw her crying before. It pained his heart. He knew that she cared deeply for people even when she didn't know them for that long, but her crying was a whole new level. But then he remembered. This is the first time she may lose a patient. Though deep down he hoped not. I won't lose him!

As soon as she realized someone's watching her, she wiped her tears quickly, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat before she walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Are you okay?" He asked concerned.

"Yeah, it's just...he is a really good man, he doesn't deserve this..." she broke down at the end of the sentence as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"We'll find a way, Kate. Don't give up!" he couldn't help but wrap her in his arms. She needs this, he needs this. Seeing her reacting like that makes him feel weak. She was his rock since the beginning of this. She was the only one who let him believe that this isn't the end. That there's hope. But now he felt like the end is near. She clinched his shirt tightly as she rubbed her face in his chest. He tightens his arms around her as he smells her perfume aroma. This smell. He hadn't smelled it that close and deep since that night in Miami. It sent chills down his spine. He didn't want to ever let go...but he has to...

After a while, they pull away at the same time. He clears his throat adjusting his coat.

"I know that there's still hope but I just couldn't help it when I saw him...now that I got to know him..." She said avoiding eye contact with him. She felt embarrassed, she doesn't like to cry infront of anyone. No matter what happens to her, she always waited till she was alone to let it all out. Crying always always made her feel like she is so vulnerable infront of people. But then Ethan isn't just any people. She always felt comfortable around him despite his sarcastic remarks. He seemed to understand her more than anyone. And she needed him.

"It's quite alright, Rookie. We're all human and have our moments of weakness. It's pretty normal" And with that she no longer felt embarrassed. He understands her and knows what to say exactly.

He felt really happy that she felt comfortable enough to let it all out infront of him. It means a lot to him considering the fact that she always smiles infront of people even when she is hurting from inside. He was good at reading people and that always came in handy for him. He gave her a tired smile before squeezing her shoulder gently.

They made their way together to the exit as they walked side by side.

"So...why did you stay that long? It's 2 am!" He asked concerned.

"I could ask you the same question" She said side glancing at him.

"I was working and I fell asleep!" He admitted blushing slightly.

"Oh! So you do sleep!" She said amused.

He rolled his eyes "Yes, Rookie. I'm human not a machine".

They exited the hospital.

She chuckled "I know, it's just...whenever I come to the hospital, I find you working. No matter what time it is".

"Yeah, I have been overworking myself for the last few months and you know why more than anyone..." He said the last sentence almost as a whisper.

"I do. But 'you can't save people if you don't take care of yourself'" she said using his words against him.

He chuckles "You're impossible, Rookie!" He said smiling to himself. No matter in which state he is, she always manages to make him smile and feel better. He never understood how she did it, though that was a part of who she is, and he loved every part of her.

"I think it's better if I drive today" She said walking to the driver's seat of his car.

"And why is that? What makes you think I'll allow you to drive my car?" He said raising an eyebrow at her.

"You're tired that you may fall asleep while driving so yeah and I'm not asking by the way, Dr. Ramsey!" She said opening the door and getting in the car.

He shook his head at her as a smirk made its way to his lips.

"I'm tired, not drunk, Rookie!" He exclaimed but got in the passenger's seat anyway. He knew arguing with her is useless, she is so stubborn. Not to mention, he doesn't have enough power to protest.

He loves this bossy side of her. Everyone who came to Edenbrook always was afraid of him. But she seemed to see everyone for who they really are and he was glad that she did because if she didn't, he wouldn't have gotten the chance to know this amazing woman and spend time with her. She was never afraid of him. He felt like a normal human being around her, which made him feel really comfortable to open up to someone other than Naveen. It was unusual and refreshing. He smiled at the thought.

The whole ride they sat in silence. Electrified silence that is. Them being alone in a small space always worked them up. Just like when they hid in the supply closet.

When she finally reached his home. Just two minutes walk away from hers, she turned to find him already asleep. He looked so peaceful. Vulnerable. Like a little baby. She got to stare at his face and recognize his features this close for the first time and it was like she is seeing him for the first time. He is so beautiful. She thought to herself. He looked so peaceful that it ached her knowing that she has to wake him up. She reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead gently. She wanted to touch his face so badly and she couldn't help herself as she stroked his cheek gently.

"Ethan?" She said softly. He hummed before he half opened his beautiful deep blue eyes tiredly.

"Wha- what happened?" He said jolted awake when he realized she saw him sleeping. At least I'm not drooling again. He thought to himself.

"You fell asleep" She said softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Perhaps you driving was a thoughtful idea" He said smirking slightly.

She laughed causing the sides of his lips to quiver farther "You might be my boss in the hospital, Dr. Ramsey. But I'm your boss outside of it" she stopped smiling when she realized what she just said.

"Damn right, you are..." he said in a whisper. They locked eyes and his eyes looked so intense. It was like it takes every single bit of his power not to reach out and touch her.

She couldn't breath as her heart started beating fast.

"Ethan..." She said softly, leaning a little forward.

He knew in that moment if he allowed himself to give in to temptation, he will not be able to stop himself this time. So he had to hurt her. He clears his throat causing her to look down as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

He got out of the car and she followed suit. Their eyes met again as they stood infront of his door awkwardly. She would be mad at him if she didn't see how much he is struggling with pain through his eyes. He is hurting as much as she is.

She smiled sadly at him "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then".

She stepped closer to him, dangerously close that it made his heart beat so fast. Is his dream in the office is becoming reality?

She leaned forward slowly and pecked him softly on the cheek, causing his face to move slightly in her direction.

"Good night, Ethan..." She said softly before she started making her way down the street to her home. Though it didn't feel like she is going home, it felt like leaving it.

#dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #choices oh #choices fandom #choices game #choices lis #choices fanfiction #teamdrake27

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pizzahorse · 5 years

Text

Replica

Title: Replica

Description: Who is the shadow and who is the caster?

[Read on AO3]

Lena stared at the face in the mirror. It was one she'd only actually seen a couple times before, during the eclipse, although her image was the last thing she'd seen before being banished to the shadow realm (twice), so it was deeply ingrained into her psyche. Magica De Spell.

Except it wasn't quite Magica. The curvature of the face and beak matched almost to a T, but white plumage revealed itself where green would normally be settled. There was a faint trace of purple eyeshadow from the day before (Lena had a habit of not wiping off her makeup before bed). The hair was different, too, although it had recently begun to take on a similar style to that of the witch. Her bangs were more or less the same, swooped to the side and colored, but still… There was a stripe down the edge of it where she'd grown it out, blue where Magica's was purple, but if she turned to the side at just the right angle, the resemblance was almost uncanny. The hair had been a subconscious decision on Lena's part, merely wanting to try something new, but one that led her to take a good hard look at herself when she finally noticed.

Half-awake, the face in the bathroom mirror startled her. So familiar, yet so foreign. She blinked, trying to find her way back to reality, but found nothing changed. She knew it was her own image, because she saw that same image just about every day. And yet, this morning, it felt like there was a little bit of her aunt staring back, too. The longer she stared, the more unsettled she became, until she finally pulled back her fist and slammed it into the glass.

It was hard enough to shatter it into hundreds of pieces and rattle it so much the medicine cabinet to bounced open, resulting in several bottles clattering into the sink or onto the floor. It was a wonder the thing stayed attached to the wall. Lena drew her hand away and without its support a few fragments broke off and fell into the sink with a clink.

For a moment, she stood, hands braced against the sink as her form quivered. Her chest felt like someone was squeezing it, like there was so much pressure she could barely breathe. The world felt far away, and only the coolness of the porcelain beneath her fingertips kept her grounded. She didn't bother examining her hand after her outburst. It stung, a little, and small red droplets were beginning to show on the surface, but they went unnoticed.

Lena finally backed away from the mess she'd made, not stopping until she felt the wall behind her, sliding against it down to the floor. She curled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in the space between and wrapping her arms around them. She choked out a sob, trying to muffle her whimpers in the hopes she wouldn't be discovered.

Of course, in a house with two ex-spies and an extra curious ex-spy's granddaughter, very little went unnoticed in this household. Webby had heard all the commotion from down the hall, and it was mere moments before a light knock came at the door.

"Lena? Are you okay? I heard a lot of noise."

If Lena answered now she'd definitely hear the thickness in her voice, and if she tried to get rid of it before speaking Webby would definitely hear the sniffle. Her keen senses were invaluable on adventures, but when it came to trying to hide things in the manor, they made it nearly impossible. Maybe if she was quiet, Webby would go away.

"Is this a prank? You know your traps hardly ever work on me."

Lena should have known better than to think she could get rid of her that easily.

"Lena?" she knocked again, louder this time. "I'm coming in. O-Okay? I just want to make sure you're alright."

If she'd thought about it, Lena could have gotten up and locked the door. Not that that would have stopped Webby. At most it would result in a minor delay in her entering, although it would really only take her a few seconds to completely rip the doorknob off. So perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't thought of it.

Webby entered slowly, the old door squeaking on its hinges and announcing she had made good on her statement. She was indeed entering the room in which Lena sat, curled into herself, and upon seeing her friend in such a state Webby closed the door behind her and rushed over.

"What happened?"

There was no way to hide the fact she was crying, but Lena looked up anyway, swiping a hand across her eyes. Unfortunately she'd momentarily forgotten about the cuts on her knuckles and ended up smudging some blood on her face. She realized her mistake when she looked down at her hand, then back up at Webby who was more than a little concerned.

"It's not a big deal," Lena spoke softly, trying to keep her voice level.

"You cut yourself! Let me see," Webby gently grasped the hand and examined it, turning it over so she could see both sides. It looked worse that it was, now that the red liquid had been smeared around. When she looked up, Lena had buried her face into her free arm, but her unabashed sniffling could clearly be heard.

"I don't think it's bad, but it definitely needs to be bandaged. "Let me-" Webby stood quickly, observing the cracked mirror on her ascent now that she was facing it, piecing together the clues around the room and speculating what may have occurred when she was absent. There would be time later to find out the actual story from Lena, but right now she had to focus on gathering a towel, an antiseptic, and something to wrap up the hand.

She wet one edge of the towel with warm water, crouching down onto her knees with all the supplies so she could get to work. The cuts were small and the bleeding had mostly stopped, but it would definitely bruise and be sore for awhile. Nothing to be too worried about. It had looked a lot worse than she let on when she'd first seen it, although Webby had initially lied about it not being bad, Lena's hand was in much better condition than she'd thought.

"This might sting," Webby warned as she poured some of the disinfectant on a dry part of the towel, before applying it to the still open wounds. She thought she saw Lena shrug an acknowledgement, but she wasn't sure. In any case, her friend had grown quiet while Webby went about her task, her breathing leveling out and her sniffling growing infrequent.

She was worried there might be some glass in the wound, but a thorough inspection indicated it was a fairly clean injury to begin with. That was good. Webby may not have been a doctor, but her grandma had taught her enough about first aid that even a doctor would be impressed with her training and knowledge.

"We should get that blood off your face, too," she stated, once she had finished wrapping the hand up with gauze and tape.

Lena glanced down at her knuckles, noticing Webby had finished her work, and curled it back over her other arm. She stared, expectant, until the other duck took the initiative and used a clean part of the wet cloth to wipe the red from her cheek. She also took the opportunity to dab at Lena's eyes, clearing away some of the salty dampness that had soaked into her feathers, along with dark traces of leftover eyeliner that had gotten horribly smudged amidst everything.

Blood in her feathers, runny makeup, hair all askew, Webby had to admit this was probably the most vulnerable she'd ever seen Lena. She had caught glimpses of this Lena when she sometimes woke up from nightmares, crying and shivering in her bed, but the light was always dim and the focus was on consoling her friend and helping her get comfortable again. Lena was always so confident and sure of herself, and it broke Webby's heart to see her pained like this.

When she was satisfied, Webby disposed of the towel into the hamper, and put everything back in its place before washing her hands. This included everything that had been knocked from the cabinet above the sink, and it gave her an opportunity to better examine just how damaged the bathroom mirror was. It would definitely need to be replaced, but what exactly had driven Lena to smash her fist directly into it? The cuts being on her fist indicated that it wasn't an accident, as if she'd slipped and tried to catch herself (badly). No, all the evidence indicated her actions had been deliberate.

Webby settled herself next to her friend, barely touching, but close enough they could feel each other's presence. They sat quietly for awhile, burning questions on the edge of Webby's beak, but she knew better than to try to pressure Lena into talking. She'd open up when she was ready. Patience was the best way to get her to explain.

Eventually, Lena leaned her head on Webby's shoulder, at the same time reaching out her hand to grasp the others, entwining their fingers as she peered down at the bandage.

"I don't want to grow up. I'm… afraid."

Webby waited for there to be more, but when Lena didn't elaborate she decided to take a gamble and offer a response. "I think everyone is a little afraid of growing up. You don't have to change just because you get older."

"But I am changing. Every day I feel like I'm morphing into her. I'm so terrified that one day I'll wake up and I AM her. I look so much like her, as if I'm some kind of a clone. I came from her shadow so I'm not exactly my own person. She might still have some kind of hold on me I don't know about. She could come back and control me again."

It was so rare for Lena to admit she was afraid of something, even it it was evident to those around her. So hearing her admit to being scared must have meant this was a fear far different from the norm.

"She won't. I won't let her get to you. I love you too much to let her do anything to you ever again."

"I look in the mirror and I just see- I just see-"

Well that more or less explained what had occurred. Webby turned to her friend, using her free hand to cup her face. "When I look at you, I see Lena. You are Lena. You always will be. That doesn't have anything to do with what you look like on the outside. It's the person I know who's on the inside that counts. If I went blind and I couldn't see you, I'd still know who you are. What you might look like on the outside does not define who you are on the inside. You chose to fight Magica at the bin, you chose to try to rise up against her before the eclipse. Even without a body, Lena still existed. You still existed. I know who you are. You're not Magica. You're my best friend. I've known who you really are since the day I met you. I never stopped believing in you. You ARE a real person. You'll always be real to me."

Lena swallowed back the lump in her throat, mirroring Webby's gesture and cupping her face as well. "How do you always know the right thing to say?" she grinned fondly down at her.

"I just speak from my heart. And you- you're in my heart. That makes it easier," the slightest bit of color appeared on her cheeks as Webby made her confession.

The other duck hmmm-ed lightly in response, leaning down so their foreheads were touching. She was still scared, a bit, but this felt so warm and safe she could almost forget her trouble. Lena always tried to be brave, and fearless, like she didn't have a care in the world. Maybe her desire to appear tough was a remnant from her time with Magica, and the need to keep any sort of emotional vulnerability hidden. That was all over now, and the truth was it was extremely comforting to have Webby pledging to protect her. For perhaps the first time, Lena felt secure. If Webby believed in her, believed she could be good and believed she could be better than her lineage, maybe it was true.

"I'm sorry about the mirror."

"Don't worry about that. It can be replaced. You can't be replaced."

Lena pulled away, sighing as she gazed affectionately into Webby's eyes. "I don't deserve you."

"Of course you do! You deserve everything. The world! You went through so much and you still came out of it all being the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met."

"Then you've got to get out more."

"Stop it! I'm serious. You are amazing and beautiful and nothing can stop me from being your friend. Not threats, not curses, not disasters, not even Magica. I'd like to see her try to get to you now!"

"Thank you for giving me a chance. I literally wouldn't exist without you. I'd be stuck as a part of Magica's shadow. Some days, it feels like I still am. But seeing your face every day, it helps me stay grounded. I can never forget it was you who brought me back, and it's you that constantly reminds me I don't live under Magica's rule anymore. I get to be free. There's no way I can repay that, but, if you ever think of anything comparable, I'll do it."

"Lena, you silly darling. Your friendship has paid me back enough. I've never met anyone like you, and I never will. There's only one you, and it'd be impossible to find a replacement that's just as amazing as you are."

Before things got too sappy, Lena came up with an excuse to change the topic. "This is kind of starting to hurt. I didn't think this through."

"Let me see," Webby lifted the hand to her beak, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. "You have to tell me if you need help with anything while it heals. I'll be right there to assist you."

"I think I can handle it."

But she had to admit to herself it felt nice to have someone around to care for her. Someone to pick her up if she got hurt, someone looking out for her. After so long of having to be guarded and having to face the world on her own, she could finally afford to let herself bask in the compassion allowed to her.

They lingered in each others company, quiet and still, until the smell of the housekeeper cooking breakfast drew them out. Despite the rough start to the morning, both were now in good spirits. Life was full of obstacles and adversity and bad memories, but maybe, if they had each other, they just might get through it all together.

Support this and other stories! https://ko-fi.com/gemology

Commissions? http://gaygemgoddess.tumblr.com/post/180466681766/

#DuckTales #Webby #Lena #Weblena #Lena De Spell #Webby Vanderquack #DuckTales 2017 #Webbigail Vanderquack #Webbigail #DT #Fanfiction #Replica

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laxiq-archive · 6 years

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➳ ♡ . * ˚┊ h a p p y ⏤ 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓃 ⏤ d a y . * ₊ ˚ ✧

☾ vιιι.ιх.хvιιι // ʟᴀᴜʀᴇɴ’s 𝟷𝟿ᵀᴴ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ☽

ପ . * ˚ ₊ for those who don’t know lauren...,

she is: ♡ very witty ♡ kind hearted ♡ beautiful ♡ amazing 12/10 recommend you follow her

let me tell you a bit more about her.

firstly, she is horrendous with words. every now and then i could use a compliment, or when i’m sad i would like some soft words to make me feel better . .

so i tell her . . her response 90% of the time? “yeet.”

♥︎ “u always look above decent.” ♥︎ “⏤i will give you half of my liver.” ♥︎ “basic human how r u.”

you get the point.

secondly, she has a terrible sleeping schedule and it makes me feel conflicted. let me tell you why. we live in different time zones so it’s easy for me to stay up late to talk to her. but i try to keep in mind that midnight for me means two in the morning for her. so i suggest she sleep, she refuses, and we keep talking. she’ll sleep late then wake up early for work.

she makes me feel bad because as much as i want to talk to her when she gets off work, i know she’s tired so she should go to sleep early. but she doesn’t want to go to sleep early and the selfish part of me is glad because we get to talk more, but the rest of me feels very guilty because it’s not good for her.

thirdly, lauren has an awful diet. i feel like she eats ramen every single night. like??? it’s not healthy!! not healthy at all!! but she does it!! like, you better calm down there naruto. and i know y'all saw that post of me telling her to drink water. it’s because she had only consumed red bulls!! also not healthy!!

i could go on to tell you about other stuff she does.

- reminds me every chance she gets that i’m short - leaves our relationship on read - the numerous times she’s fallen asleep on me - made me sad once . . or twice . . thrice - etc. etc.

what i am trying to tell you is lauren is not perfect. she has her flaws, she makes me sad at times, and i always wonder what she thinks of me because she’s never serious . . it’s all these negative things that reminds me just how incredibly human she is.

i adore everything about her, even these traits of hers. she is very bad with words but an incredible communicator. she’s willing to sacrifice sleep so we can talk about stupid stuff. she’s so real with me, not afraid to hide parts of her life with me, even the ugly stuff, and i really admire her these things about her.

she’s someone i talk to so often that it’s become easy to tell her stuff that i wouldn’t tell other people. so often that it’s easy to tell / show her how much I care about her. so often that my day feels incomplete strange if i don’t talk to her. she’s apart of my daily routine and i'm so blessed to have her apart of my life.

today is her nineteenth birthday, and i just want to attempt to put my feelings into words, just for her, on this beautiful thursday. ‧₊˚ ଓ

‧₊˚✧. нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ нαppy вιrтнdαy deαr lαυreɴ нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ ‧₊˚✧

➳ ♡ . * ○┊ 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓃,

this is kind of hard; you already know my feelings. i was thinking about what to say to you now . . and i want you to know the depth of these feelings. but how do i express them to you? i’m not entirely sure to be honest. so i’ll just say whatever’s in my heart and hope my sincerity can reach you, despite the distance between us.

a few months ago we met on this horrid site. i remember wanting to talk to you because i would read your tags and laugh, so i did my best to initiate a lame excuse of a conversation with you. ever since then you’ve become someone i cherish dearly. i want you to feel bliss every day of your life but that’s too unrealistic. so i hope that every day you heal, even if it’s just a little, and steadily grow into the person you want to be.

truthfully, from the beginning, i felt very comfortable with you. maybe it was because of your carefree attitude, or maybe it was the kindness you showed me? perhaps it was our keysmash convos. whatever it was, it felt really natural to talk to you.

since that day, my comfort has been growing with each joke, with each intimate moment, with each confinement. that comfort has recently evolved into something deeper. with you, i have reached a level of vulnerability. i feel like i could show you all of my weaknesses and i trust that you wouldn’t use that information to hurt me.

ah, the depth of my love for you. where do i begin? you’re constantly on my mind; i see things that remind me of you, i hear songs and i wonder if you would like them. i worry for you when an hour passes and i haven’t received a response from you. you’re literally the only person i have no issues with when it comes to messaging back and forth all day every day.

you already know that i sometimes act motherly to you because i truly want what’s best for you, right? i don’t intend to be annoying, and i know i can come across as just that sometimes when i constantly ask if you’re tired, or what time you work, or when i very lightly nag you for doing something dumb. but i do that all out of love. wow, i really do sound like a mother i am so sorry.

i am not sure how else to explain to you my love for you. it’s like . . you’re my favorite human. i’m interested in everything about you ⏤ from your thoughts to your lifestyle to just you in general. i hope that someday in the future we can meet and go to an observatory. we can talk and watch the sun set before learning about the stars, it’ll be great i promise.

i won’t ever forget those moments i spent on my vacation. when i was alone in my hotel room and i got really bad paranoia at night and freaked out. none of my friends were answering my calls when i needed them, and i felt like i was really going to die if i didn’t escape my thoughts. but while my friends didn’t return my calls, you texted me that entire time. you made sure i was okay, tried to calm me down, and made me feel better.

i don’t think i ever really thanked you back then, but that meant so much to me. the first night it happened i felt a sense of security with you, and i was able to feel the warmth of your heart in that cold hotel room. i am so thankful for you. above all you’re my friend, and i hope we can be friends for a long time. you have such a pure soul, i don’t want to lose a person as good natured as you.

i haven’t told you this as much as i should but i really do appreciate you. whenever i’m upset, which is like every other night, you don’t dismiss my feelings, you don’t get annoyed, nor do you comment on how often i get the blues. instead, you worry about me and urge me to talk about what’s bothering me, while still respecting my boundaries. you’re patient with me and let me vent to you and while you’re bad with putting your thoughts into words, you still do your best to comfort me. you’ve shown me so much compassion and love, more than i deserve, really.

you also encourage me to become comfortable with the parts of myself that i’m shy with, which is so amazing. you make me feel good about the sides of me that i am insecure about and if that isn’t supporting someone else’s growth i don’t know what is.

you have such a kind and understanding heart, i value you very much.

i look forward to the future days where i can learn more about you ⏤ things you don’t like, like corn dogs for example; things that upset you, like ladies yelling at you, another example; and just see more of you. i want to have more talks with you about things that don’t matter and things that mean the world to you, and i want to enjoy your presence even though we’re miles away from each other.

what i’m trying to say, in a nutshell, is in this short amount of time you’ve become my best friend. i love you very much lauren and i wish nothing but the best for you this year. happy birthday my goblin. 💘

⏤ 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 ପ♡⃛ଓ

#➳ ❤︎ . * ˚┊lauren: bday wishes ‧₊˚✧#for the past week i've been staying up till like 3 to write this . . .#when im really tired it's easy for my heart to open up so i waited until the night to type this #so i'm sorry if this whole thing is cheesy but i tried to be as sincere as possible #i made so many drafts because each night i wanted to say more but in the end i decided to keep our intimate moments between us #i can't really do much for you on your birthday but i hope through this post you can feel my affection #anyways happy birthday lauren! ♡ i love you!#also peep the naruto references: ☾ ○#gothyonq #long post.#reytxt.

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