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sissa-arrows · 5 months

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Let’s not forget Albert Camus’s final unfinished novel, The First Man. The book’s title is an appeal to a past of a different kind. The biblical connotations are evident, and it is interesting that Camus thought about naming the first character Adam. This is part of a pieds-noirs or colonialist fantasy that is unexpressed but present: the notion that no man was present on this land before him (“terra nullius”), much like Adam and Eve. This is a world vision that places European settlers and European myth respectively at the center of all things. For example, Camus describes the main character as being born “on a land with no ancestors and no memory … where old age found none of the succor from melancholy which it receives in civilized countries …”.

The First Man becomes a platform for the expression of the white settlers’ resentment. In particular, resentment against the metropole is present throughout, for example, in this exchange between the main character, Camus’s alter ego, Cormery, and a pied-noir farmer who tells him: “I have sent my family to Algiers [for safety] and I will die here. They don’t understand that in Paris.” The farmer’s hatred of the metropole is such that he expresses more respect for the Arabs who violently oppose his rule. The farm owner advises his Arab workers to join the Algerian resistance because “there are no men in France”, that is, the pieds-noirs will lose because of the weakness of the metropolitan French. This is the despair of the white settler; he feels abandoned by Paris and as a consequence, resigned to the rise of the Algerian resistance. The First Man reflects both an inchoate desire to negate this new reality (the coming of Algerian independence) and a long mourning of the old colonial order.

Camus does not challenge the racism of pieds-noirs in French Algeria but instead justifies it. He uses class concerns (unemployment) as an explanation for the xenophobic reaction of the settlers. Through the narrator, racism occurs here as part of human nature, as an understandable reaction from ultimately likeable characters. Camus also uses his modest origins like a weapon, at times inferring that these origins give him an awareness and an authenticity lacking in some of his other interlocutors with more privileged backgrounds.

Camus depicts the French settler as a tragic figure: an admirable hard-working man, an old pied-noir, one of those who “are being insulted in Paris.” In a telling passage, a settler who owns a vineyard is uprooting the vines in his property to ensure that Algerians will not be able to profit from them once they take back their land. When asked what he is doing by Cormery, the settler responds with what is meant to be bitter irony: “young man, since what we have done is a crime, we should erase it.” Yet this destruction of the vineyards harks back to one of the most somber hours of the French conquest of Algeria: in 1840 when General de LaMoricière and future governor-general of Algeria, Thomas Bugeaud, agreed to make the systematic destruction of Arab crops a policy to “prevent the Arabs from enjoying the fruits of their fields.” This uprooting of olive trees and the destruction or confiscation of fields were a crucial moment in France’s conquest of Algeria. Forced to leave that conquered territory, the French once again destroy cultivated land, but this time Camus describes them as being victims of an injustice.

I cannot testify about anything regarding this unfinished novel cause any work I read from Camus I did because I was forced to in school and this one wasn’t part of the « let’s study a book from a colonizer without even acknowledging any bias in it » package deal.

So first of all thank you for the informations you’re providing here.

That being said while I can’t say anything about the book itself I sure can talk about the historical context.

Settlers really have that thing where the pretend they discovered the land that the people there didn’t exist and if they did exist they weren’t indigenous anyway they came from somewhere else so it did not belong to them and if it did belong to them then they didn’t deserve it.

They point at roads and buildings saying « we built that so you owe us » except they never mention the roads and buildings that were there before and that they destroyed. They never mention that these roads and buildings were built by Algerians who were not allowed to use them afterwards. They never mention that building one single highway in order to make pillaging the country easier and destroying the beautiful historical building of Algiers to build something to their taste (aka something that didn’t look Muslim) will never make up for all the deaths they caused.

The settlers love their privileges and think they are above everyone else. They don’t love France they love living in a colony. When the settlers realized that France was losing they were hoping and fighting for an independence of Algeria similar to the fake independence of the US. Aka settlers kicking out mainland settlers and stealing Turtle Island from its rightful people. The settlers loved settler colonialism more than anything to the point where it legit broke families. One of my friend wasn’t allowed to talk to her uncle all her life. When she became an adult her mom told her the reason and it was because her uncle was a settler who didn’t want the independence and went as far as torturing Algerians but he had no regrets and to this day still wishes the settlers had taken Algeria from France for themselves and killed the Algerians.

The settlers in Algeria also stayed long enough that they created their own culture so coming back to France wasn’t an option in their mind.

In a Dying colonialism by Frantz Fanon a white settler in favor of the independence explains how him and some of his friends (Muslims, Jewish and Europeans) went to a conference where Camus was invited expecting him to take a stand as an older progressive and how disappointed they got by his both sidism that wasn’t even actual both sidism because he refused to let them collect money to help the Algerian political prisoners taken by France. Eventually in 1956 he felt useless to the revolution so he left and he came to Paris and that while in France he only felt guilt and disgust. He felt even more useless so he tried to raise awareness around him but people didn’t give a flying fuck. So he started hating them. Hating those French people who were sending their sons to torture and kill Algerians. He did meet good French leftist but he realized that he only felt at home when with Algerians. That he didn’t belong to France. Eventually he went back to Algeria but this time he joined the FLN. (He also says that at first he was scared to be treated differently and then he realized that for indigenous Algerians the fact that he was fighting for the liberation made him a brother just like any other Algerian)

Anyway I’m rambling back to the ask. (For more about the settlers I really suggest Fanon’s book mentioned earlier there’s also a testimony from a white cop who made the right decision and Fanon talks about the role of doctors in favor of colonialism and all for example)

Regarding Bugeaud and his “politique de la Terre brûlée” there’s so much to say. Even the livestock were not spared and were killed with the villagers during his infamous “enfumades”. I can say so much about this piece of shit and the fact that he has a statue in France saying “Loved, honored and missed by everyone he was a great man who pacified Algeria” makes me sick.

Anyway once again thank you for your ask I learned more about how much of a piece of shit Camus is.

#ask #albert camus #algeria #france #dying colonialism #colonialism #Bugeaud

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thewitchqueenofharrenhal · 1 year

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You know at this point I am tired of helaemond ship and their stans. 2 things really irritate me. 1 is how fast people jump into conclusion that they are lovers by young Aemond's words, children hair and Helaena touching his arm during coronation and 2 how much hate Alys and alysmond shippers receive because how can one ship alysmond when Alys bewitched him after Aemond killed her family, took her as war price and r***d her? Like it is established that books are not truest truth source, many things were changed from both team Black and Green. In addition to this, if some people have read history books they would have known how men liked to write history and portray women who weren't just obedient good wifes as witches. Elizabeth Woodville, Anne Boleyn, even Hurrem sultan. Man cannot fall in love, it's always woman who puts a spell on him/seduces him so from strong king/prince he is a victim of abuse. As a history student Fire and Blood as book was really great example of how all women (doesn't matter whether highborn or bastards) are 1 dimensional. It's always woman who provokes war (Trojan war) even though it's a guy who kidnapped her, but no, put all the blame on her and her manipulations 🤦🏻‍♀️ and Alys as character was described by 3 men who never even saw her and I am supposed to believe Aemond after killing Luke became Aegon 2.0 by mistreating Alys? And what helaemond stans do? Portray Aemond as r***st and Alys as evil woman who mercilessly sends him to die when Evan himself said Aemond somehow gained the knowledge of his death when he lost his eye and gained Vhagar because he recalled conversation about Cyclops. So basically whole theory of bewitched Aemond, naive and stupid, sent by 2 older manipulative and evil Alys to die is impossible because Aemond will most likely sacrifice himself. Even in books it was said Aemond from the beginning believed that once Daemon is defeated, all allies would leave Rhaenyra's side. So no, Alys won't have to trick him into fighting Daemon, he will want to do it even before meeting her. It's just so ironic to me that most helaemond shippers also ship Daemyra and they want to drag Aemond to Daemon level, make him a monster and r***st and then turn around and say how Aemond love for Helaena is tragic 😂 also they talk badly about Nettles, because Daemon leaves Rhaenyra for black and bastard girl and then does 1 good thing: tells Nettles to escape and not participate in war anymore. I can't wait for Alys and Nettles to appear

Don’t be mad at me but I lowkey held a candle for the Helaemond ship when I saw Phia and Ewan’s respective portrayals 😭 in my defense it’s something about the Aemon and Naerys of it all! With that being said - If the show decides to go that way purely to garner shock over the atrocity that is Blood & Cheese I will be very disappointed. There is absolutely no evidence that those children are Aemond’s and it would be a real narrative disappointment to make it so for shock value.

The arguments thrown at Alys x Aemond shippers are really absurd and I think it boils down to the hate of it not being the gross stereotypical incest ships you tend to get in ASOIAF. We have some statements claiming Alys bewitched Aemond but they all seem to stem from the same misogyny thrown at characters like Shiera Seastar and Visenya Targaryen or even Nettles herself. We have no real canonical evidence on how Alys would have felt about her family especially considering she was a bastard and seemed to be in service of the Strong Family not an official member of it. Don’t get me started on the consent arguments they tend to flip flop between Alys being a “old creepy hag” one day and Aemond’s victim the next.

Fire & Blood is a unreliable book to follow but I think most points we are provided by it show a romantic slant to Alys and Aemond. Daemyra is the most cursed ship we have to endure especially because Fire & Blood makes it the most unromantic of all - they have no room to criticize lol! Nettles never did anything wrong in her entire life besides be perfect and anyone who slanders her can respectfully block me. I am not thrilled nor excited to even imagine the vitriol Nettles and who ever is cast to play her will have to endure.

I want the three horsemen of the apocalypse lol - Nettles, Alys Rivers and Sara Snow. (even though Sara is undoubtedly fake).

#anon #Alys x aemond #I guess anti Helaena x Aemond not really thoughhhhh. anon seems annoyed at them though so I feel you

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reikeip · 2 years

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Crossroad ♱ Curse 8

Location: Hasumi Temple, Main Hall

Keito: …And he’s gone. Listening to your free will as always, Sakuma-san.

Koga: Hey. What now, what should I do? Well, because Sakuma-senpai wanted me to, I guess I’ll be helpin’ ya.

Bein’ honest, I didn’t understand half the words that came outta Sakuma-senpai’s mouth. Did you make any sense of what he was tryna say?

Keito: Yeah… I can’t read his real motive, but I have a general idea of what he meant.

We’ve known each other for a long time, so I’ve come to understand his pattern of thinking, to a degree.

Koga: …You, are you and Sakuma-senpai really old pals?

I’ve been to a lot of his shows, but why haven’t I seen ya around~? Just what kinda relationship do ya have?

You two are often together at school though. Are you like normal buddies, which has nothing to do with your idol work?

Keito: That’s about right… That guy may call me his friend but, honestly, we aren’t that close. We’ve been involved with one another for quite some time, though.

The first time I caught sight of that guy, it was at a funeral home.

My home is a temple, as you can see. Ever since I was a young boy, I’ve frequently visited places like that to help with my parent’s business.

Back then I was a pretentious little devil, though I’ve been told I still am…

Now I can’t help but blush when I think about it, but I looked down on everyone my age, thinking they were a bunch of morons.

I didn’t fit in well with my surroundings, and became my parent’s work assistant…

In my spare time I’d read books, write, and play with the one childhood friend I accepted to be my equal.

Koga: Ha, you were a gloomy brat, huh? Well, I guess I don’t get along with those my age enough to talk.

Keito: Mhm. Well, one day I, who had such a miserable childhood… happened to meet a demon.

Like a lonely kid hallucinating up some imaginary friend, I discovered that Sakuma Rei.

For some reason, that guy’s pastime seemed to be strolling through graveyards… Whenever there was a Buddhist memorial, I’d catch sight of him in the vicinity or funeral home itself.

At first, I thought I was just seeing things. Even back then, he had such beauty that it felt detached from this world. The first time I looked at him I screamed, and in my shock I found myself unable to stand…

I think that man will make fun of me for it until the day I die.

Anyways. No one could ignore such a beautiful boy as him, so anyone visiting the funeral home would often stop and chat with him.

And, without fail, they’d take an immediate liking to him.

To top it all off, everyone would go asking him for his take on things. All their problems would be unraveled by him, and they’d become eager to seek out his guidance.

That’s how intelligent he was, even way back then.

And not only that, he wouldn’t boast about it, just delightedly talk with others. Anyone would fall in love with someone like that.

Before you knew it, people with no business with any of the funerals would show up—these devotees would turn up just because they were itching to talk to him.

It was eccentric. Men and women of all ages would surround him, listening to the speech of a boy that sat atop a gravestone as if it were nothing.

Respected adults would bow their heads to this little boy and ask for his wisdom.

It was enough to be frightening. But I was childish back then, and believed I was the greatest of them all.

I was haughty—I thought that I was the smartest—that I understood the logic of this world.

For that reason, I’d often challenge Sakuma-san to verbal disputes. Whenever I struck upon something I’d head to the graveyard, telling Sakuma-san all about my new pet theory.

That guy, he listened as if he found it amusing.

In hindsight, I was like a little kid rushing to my beloved parents about some big discovery I’d just made… going listen, listen!

That guy, he’d take the entangled points of an argument I’d painstakingly built up and put them in order—where I was at a loss, he’d provide a breakthrough.

He’d present reference books, and in one fell swoop, a conclusion was bestowed upon me.

Talking to him like that, it gave me a peace of mind. I didn’t have to think for myself, I could ask that guy whatever I’d like and receive his teachings…

Having experienced that, I almost gave up thinking for myself altogether.

But before long, I grew afraid. As long as that guy exists, someone like me isn’t needed.

There was a line between him and everyone else, it was obvious. He was transcendent, he was superior.

He was the sole omniscient and omnipotent god, and we were nothing but his extras.

Being near that guy, it degrades you to such a trifling existence.

I’d only just entered my adolescence when I realized that—I was terrified.

I met someone who reduced my life’s worth to zero.[1] To protect my self-esteem, I ran away…

From then on we didn’t talk much, and I grew up unconcerned with that person.

And then, in high school, we were reunited. Since that guy started up conversations so freely with me, we’ve reconnected, to the point where we started talking again…

But to this day, I haven’t been able to erase the fear I felt back then.

The main character of this story—of this world—isn’t me…

It’s a repulsive feeling when you realize that you’re just a minor character—no, that you’re nothing more than a backdrop who could be replaced by just about anyone.

It was as if I’d become empty. If the story, if the world doesn’t need me, then… Why was I even born?

Do you get what I’m trying to say, Oogami?

It seems like you wish to get close to that guy, but… a human isn’t strong enough to live alongside a god and survive with their sanity intact—it’s impossible.

← previous | all | next →

Okay. So what Keito says here is 零 (rei), which is Rei's name. If you aren't aware, it also means zero or nothing. So he's basically saying: I met someone who reduced my life's worth to rei (zero/nothing). Take it however you'd like to.

#reikeiptls #keito hasumi #koga oogami

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96thdayofrage · 2 years

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Not a single old man among them. It’s yet another reminder that the prejudice that was supposed to just die off with the old generation continues to find new life with the young.

“The time of the Republic has passed in America as the system grows too weak to perform its duty,” part of the group’s manifesto reads. “The damage done to this nation and its people will not be fixed if every issue requires the approval and blessing from the dysfunctional American democratic system. Democracy has failed in this once great nation.”

That’s all a long way of saying “make America great again,” apropos given the hearings on television about the Jan. 6 terrorist attack.

Based on the evidence and documents, the group was planning to riot at the North Idaho Pride event, in addition to several other areas around downtown Coeur d’Alene. We are all very fortunate that a stranger called the police after seeing the group piling into the truck in a hotel parking lot. No telling what would have happened if they had been able to follow through on their plans. More than 50 people were injured, and one person died, in the Charlottesville rally after a white supremacist deliberately drove his car into a crowd of counter-protesters.

That driver was just 20 years old — which means he was taught to hate after the first “Top Gun” movie. That’s how recent we’re talking.

Contrarians always like to take examples such as the mass shooting in Buffalo, N.Y., and make it about one event or one person. Whenever attempts are made to place the racist attack in context, Black people are reminded that slavery ended a long time ago — as if legislated racism hadn’t immediately been put in its place.

You know, for all of the hubbub surrounding book banning, critical race theory and this supposed concern about teaching children to hate, culturally we have done a poor job addressing the white supremacists who are grooming young white people.

The person accused of driving nearly four hours specifically to kill Black people in Buffalo is just 18 years old. He wasn’t around during slavery, the Civil War or the civil rights movement, and yet we all instinctively assume we know the type: The accusations are in sync with the actions of many 18-year-old white males from each of those eras.

Before critical race theory and “Drag Queen Story Hour” were a thing, white supremacy was being taught in this country. Back when men wore the pants, the wife stayed at home and prayer was still in school, white supremacy was being taught in this country. Ruby Ridge from 1992 begat Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, which begat Timothy Wilson, who texted an associate “How did McVeigh do it" before picking a hospital in the Kansas City, Mo., area to blow up in 2020. Thankfully the FBI was able to intercept Wilson — who also considered blowing up several mosques, a synagogue and an elementary school mostly populated with Black children. He was only 36 years old, born long after all of this was supposed to be over.

But culturally we treat the examples of this hate as one-offs. Politicians consider them obstacles to reelection or an incident to talk about for fundraising. What we don’t do is go after it the way Republicans went after transgender children who hope to play sports with their friends.

In Texas, parents can be investigated for providing their transgender children with support, and yet the Lone Star State has been slow to address the continual teaching of white supremacy. At least seven of the 31 who traveled to Idaho are from Texas.

If Republicans consider critical race theory to be an issue worthy of legislation, and they think parents of transgender children should be investigated, why aren’t those same Republicans gung-ho to investigate parents of avowed white supremacists or interrupt the organizations that teach white supremacy?

As far as I can tell, none of the 31 folks arrested in Idaho are old enough to have been around for the first Juneteenth back in 1865. So they were taught white supremacy … but by whom?

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dfroza · 29 days

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for march 30 of 2024 with Proverbs 30 and Psalm 30, accompanied by Psalm 12 for the 12th day of Astronomical Spring and Psalm 90 for day 90 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 30]

These are the words of Agur, son of Jakeh. An oracle of wisdom.

He says, “I am weary, God.

I am weary and spent, O God.”

Certainly I am a stupid man, as dumb as an ox.

I don’t understand the way that most people do.

I have never learned wisdom,

and I have no knowledge at all of the Holy One.

Who has ascended into the heavens and then come back down?

Who has collected the winds in the palm of His hand?

Who has wrapped up the vast oceans in His coat?

Who has plotted the ends of the earth and then fashioned them?

What is His name?

What is His son’s name?

Do you know? Indeed, you do.

Every word of God will be put to the test and proven true;

He is a defense for those who trust in Him.

Take care. Add nothing to what He has said;

for if you do, He will correct you and expose you as a liar.

Two things I ask, O God.

Sometime before I die, grant these humble requests:

Eliminate any hint of worthless and deceitful words from my lips.

Do not make me poor or rich,

but give me each day what I need;

For if I have too much, I might forget You are the One who provides,

saying, “Who is the Eternal One?”

Or if I do not have enough, I might become hungry and turn to stealing

and thus dishonor the good name of my God.

Never run down a servant to his master

because the slave might curse you and you would suffer as a result.

There is a kind of person who curses his father

and pronounces no blessing upon his mother;

A kind of person who is without fault in his own estimation

but has not been scrubbed clean of his own sordidness;

A kind whose look is too haughty,

whose eyebrows arch as he looks down on others;

A kind whose very teeth cut like swords

and whose jaws sever like knives,

All the better to consume the poor of the earth

and the oppressed among men.

The leech has twin suckers;

“More blood! More blood,” they demand.

Three other things are just as insatiable,

no, make it four that never say, “Enough”:

The grave, the childless woman who cannot bear,

the parched earth that cries for rain,

and the fire, which never says, “Enough!”

One who derides his father

and fails to honor his mother in old age

Will die in contempt: his eyes will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley

and eaten by the young vultures when his unburied body lies on the trash heap.

There are three mysteries I find absolutely amazing,

no, make it four I cannot comprehend:

The way an eagle flies through the sky,

the way a snake moves over a rock,

The way a boat glides through the middle of the sea,

and the way a man becomes one with his virgin wife.

An adulterous woman is so cavalier by nature.

When she’s done, it is as if she washed after eating

and then says, “I have done nothing wrong.”

Three situations disturb the earth,

no, make it four that it cannot endure:

When a slave is elevated to king,

when a fool is full of fine food,

When a hated woman finally marries,

and when a serving girl takes possession of her mistress’s wealth.

There are four creatures on earth that are small,

but they are very wise and we can learn from them:

While ants are hardly a strong species,

they work constantly to store up food during the summer;

While badgers are animals without many defenses,

they are wise enough to make their homes in the rocky cliffs;

While locusts live without a ruler,

they all know how to move in formation;

While a lizard is easy enough to catch in your hand,

it is shrewd enough to enter the palaces of kings.

There are three creatures with majesty in their stride,

no, make it four that move with grace:

The lion, which is the strongest of the animals,

does not back down from any other creature;

The strutting rooster, the male goat,

and a king as he goes out with his army.

If you have been foolish enough to insinuate yourself in some high position

or if you have concocted some sort of evil plan,

clamp your hand tightly over your mouth;

For pressing down milk makes butter,

pressing your nose makes it bleed,

and pressing anger makes trouble.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 30 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

The answer to all these questions, of course, is “no one but God.” Agur, like Job, understands the limits of human strength and knowledge. Unlike many, he freely confesses his need and takes refuge in the one True God.

•

Wealth and poverty have something in common. Both situations can lead us to forget God. If we are rich, then it is easy to think it was our skill, our strength, and our hard work that got us there. We forget it was God who gave us the time and talent to succeed. If we are poor, then it is easy to steal and then make excuses for what we did. We forget that God said, “You are not to take what is not yours” (Exodus 20:15). When God’s people violate His teaching, God is the one who gets a black eye.

[Psalm 30]

A song of David. For the dedication of the temple.

I praise You, Eternal One. You lifted me out of that deep, dark pit

and denied my opponents the pleasure of rubbing in their success.

Eternal One, my True God, I cried out to You for help;

You mended the shattered pieces of my life.

You lifted me from the grave with a mighty hand,

gave me another chance,

and saved me from joining those in that dreadful pit.

Sing, all you who remain faithful!

Pour out your hearts to the Eternal with praise and melodies;

let grateful music fill the air and bless His name.

His wrath, you see, is fleeting,

but His grace lasts a lifetime.

The deepest pains may linger through the night,

but joy greets the soul with the smile of morning.

When things were quiet and life was easy, I said in arrogance,

“Nothing can shake me.”

By Your grace, Eternal,

I thought I was as strong as a mountain;

But when You left my side and hid away,

I crumbled in fear.

O Eternal One, I called out to You;

I pleaded for Your compassion and forgiveness:

“I’m no good to You dead! What benefits come from my rotting corpse?

My body in the grave will not praise You.

No songs will rise up from the dust of my bones.

From dust comes no proclamation of Your faithfulness.

Hear me, Eternal Lord—please help me,

Eternal One—be merciful!”

You did it: You turned my deepest pains into joyful dancing;

You stripped off my dark clothing

and covered me with joyful light.

You have restored my honor. My heart is ready to explode, erupt in new songs!

It’s impossible to keep quiet!

Eternal One, my God, my Life-Giver, I will thank You forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 30 (The Voice)

[Psalm 12]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the lyre.

Help me, O Eternal One, for I can’t find anyone who follows You.

The faithful have fallen out of sight.

Everyone tells lies through sweet-talking lips

and speaks from a hollow and deceptive heart.

May the Eternal silence all sweet-talking lips,

stop all boasting tongues,

Of those who say, “With our words we will win;

our lips are our own. Who is the master of our souls?”

“I will rise up,” says the Eternal,

“because the poor are being trampled, and the needy groan for My saving help.

I will lift them up to the safety they long for.”

The promises of the Eternal, they are true, they are pure—

like silver refined in a furnace,

purified seven times, they will be without impurity.

You, O Eternal, will be their protector.

You will keep them safe from those around them forever.

All around, those who are wicked parade—proud and arrogant—and people applaud their emptiness.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 12 (The Voice)

[Book Four]

There are endless reasons to praise God, and many of them are included in the Book of Psalms. Book Four (Psalms 90–106) is made up of songs that praise and celebrate God for His creation, strength, work in history, and kingship. Although these songs are written to honor God, many require something from us. Throughout these psalms is the Hebrew word hallelujah, translated “Praise the Eternal!” That’s not just a passive verb, as in, “Praise be to the Eternal”; it’s an active imperative! We are commanded to praise Him. We are commanded to join angels above, people below, and all creatures in praising Him!

[Psalm 90]

A prayer of Moses, a man of God.

Lord, You have always been our refuge.

Our ancestors made You their home long ago.

Before mountains were born,

before You fashioned the earth and filled it with life,

from ages past to distant futures,

You are truly God.

You turn people back to dust,

saying, “Go back to the dust, children of Adam.”

For You a thousand years is like a day when it is over,

a watch during the night;

there is no difference to You.

You release the waters of death to sweep mankind away in his slumber.

In the morning, we are blades of grass,

Growing rapidly under the sun but withering quickly;

yet in the evening, we fade and die, soon to be cut down.

For Your anger has consumed us.

Your wrath has shaken us to the core

and left us deeply troubled.

You have written our offenses before You—

the light of Your presence shines brightly on our secret sins,

and we can’t run or hide.

For all our days are spent beneath Your wrath;

our youth gives way to old age, and then

one day our years come to an end with a sigh.

We may journey through life for 70 years;

some may live and breathe 80 years—if we are strong.

Yet our time here is only toil and trouble;

soon our days are gone, and we fly away.

Who can truly comprehend the power unleashed by Your anger?

Your wrath matches the fear that is due to You.

Teach us to number our days

so that we may truly live and achieve wisdom.

How long will we wait here alone?

Return, O Eternal One, with mercy.

Rescue Your servants with compassion.

With every sun’s rising, surprise us with Your love,

satisfy us with Your kindness.

Then we will sing with joy and celebrate every day we are alive.

You have spent many days afflicting us with pain and sorrow;

now match those with years of unspent joy.

Let Your work of love be on display for all Your servants;

let Your children see Your majesty.

And then let the beauty and grace of the Lord—our God—rest upon us

and bring success to all we do;

yes, bring success to all we do!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 90 (The Voice)

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otakusmart · 1 year

Text

6 best fantasy K-dramas to watch after Alchemy of Souls

Our Daeho residents' tale eventually ended, leaving an immense void in our hearts that we kept looking forward to watching every week. What can we do, though, to fill that void? Watching another epic fantasy tale is the best recipe for moving on from such an epic tale. Here I am with some of my favorite fantasy K-dramas like Alchemy of Souls that will fill a part of that void.

Hotel Del Luna

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJ3_1v8sB48 When talking about fantasy dramas, we can only pass by mentioning Hotel del Luna, a fantasy drama about a 1000-year-old woman, Jang Man-Wol, who is tied to a tree for eternity as a punishment for her evil deeds. To end that punishment, she has to help the hotel guests go to the afterlife. Our heroine has got looks to die for, but she also has a hot temper that only our hero, Go Chan-Soong, the hotel manager, who is also a Harvard University graduate, can deal with. Along with the rest of the hotel staff, who are ghosts with unfulfilled wishes, Man-Wol and Chan-Soong do their best to provide their guests with a comfortable stay. ALSO READ: Recap on Kdrama Brain Works Episode 1: investigative drama, high on comedy

Sell your haunted house

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwkn_elMC3c Ordinary real estate could be more fun. Thus, our female lead, Hong Ji-a, specializes in selling only haunted houses. Wherever there is a ghost messing around with the residents, Ji-a steps in and sends that ghost away. Despite nailing her exorcisms, Ji-a faces a minor problem, though. Whenever she deals with a ghost, Ji-a's body gets extremely cold, and she can't handle it anymore. Luckily, she soon runs into our male lead, Oh In-boom, a powerful psychic who has yet to discover that ability. Strangely enough, whenever In-beom is around, Ji-a doesn't feel cold at all. Although she is reluctant to seek help, Ji-a suggests they start working on exorcisms together, giving us a powerful partnership that remains on top of my favorites. ALSO READ: 12 Korean Drama OSTs That Every Kdrama Enthusiasts Know By Heart (2023)

Gu Family Book

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itROM2-fy6Q A nine-tailed fox, Gu Wul-ryung, falls in love with a woman, who has no clue about his true identity, hoping he will soon become a human when the Gu family book, his family's heirloom, appears before him. However, things don't go as planned, and Wul-ryung gets killed. Unbeknownst to him, his wife gets pregnant with a child who grows up to be a half-fox and half-human, our hero, Choi Kang-chi. The only way for Kang-chi to live as a human is to use his supernatural powers once he becomes an adult. That way, those powers will eventually disappear, which sure doesn't happen, and Kang-chi has now to make peace with his fate with the help of our heroine, Dam Yeo-wool. ALSO READ: 6 best inspirational K-Dramas to keep us motivated in 2023

Goblin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S94ukM8C17A A former Goryeo general, Kim Shin, gets killed as soon as he reaches the capital after his recent victory. However, he is given a second chance at life thanks to the earnest prayers of the people he helped throughout his life. However, our former general has to pay the price for taking many people's lives on the battlefield. He is now an immortal goblin with an invisible sword stuck through his chest. Sending off his beloved ones one after another makes life seem meaningless to our goblin, who keeps waiting for his bride, the only one who can take out that sword and end his immortality. However, when that so-called bride, Ji Eun-Tak, actually shows up, our goblin has a change of mind. Instead of dying, he now wishes to live happily by Eun-tak's side. ALSO READ: 8 gorgeous outfits IU (Jang Man Wol) wore in Hotel Del Luna

Tomorrow

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhmxDgBxGRk Our cute and soft-hearted teddy bear of a hero, Choi Joon-woong, falls accidentally into the Han river while trying to stop someone from committing suicide. Now, Joon-young lies in a coma and has only two choices: work for an afterlife company for six months or stay in a coma for three years, during which his family will take a severe blow. Although reluctant, Joon-woong goes with the former, so he joins grim reapers Goo Ryeon and Lim Ryung-gu in their mission to save suicidal people before they take their own lives in despair. That mission is for sure not a walk in the park. However, with determination and earnestness, our trio manages to save people and help them get a new chance at life. ALSO READ: Extraordinary Attorney Woo and 22 K-Dramas About Disability and Mental Illness

Mystic Pop-up bar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqaOkAyo0pI In the Joseon era, our heroine, Weol-ju, used to be famous for her dream reading skills, but that unique talent turned out to be a double-edged weapon. Soon after Weol-ju helps the crown prince get rid of the nightmares plaguing his sleep, a despicable rumor spreads about Weol-ju seducing the crown prince to gain money and power. That rumor costs the life of Weol-ju's mother, which leaves Weol-ju devastated, and she then commits suicide. As a punishment for taking her own life, Weol-ju has to help as many as 10000 people settle their grudges. Even with managing to help 9990, Weol-ju is stuck on the last 10 cases, so she enlists the help of Han Kang-bae, a young man with a strange ability where people can only help but tell the truth whenever he touches them. With lots of impressive fantasy dramas out there, it will take us ages to list every single one of them. I picked out some of my favorite ones that I hope you find enjoyable and if you have other recommendations, tell me about them in the comments, and I will gladly add them to my watchlist. ALSO READ: 10 Korean Dramas With No Romance To Kickstart Your K-drama Journey Read the full article

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tu-sugar-mami · 3 years

Text

You're an exchange student part 2:

You can read the first part here

You sit awkwardly on a gigantic chair while holding a lukewarm, barely touched cup of tea with both of your hands. Your back is straight and your shoulders are tense. You're starting to feel a bit sore after being still for a long time but you can't bring yourself to move.

After the incident with the first cultist —or what you still think is a cultist, the redhead girl— the tall lady took away your bug repelent and lighter along with your backpack, putting them on the top row of a nearby shelf where she was sure your little hands wouldn't reach.

If you're honest, you're not sure how you ended up sitting in the chair in front of the gigantic fireplace with many heavy comforters on you providing much needed warmth, feeling like an unexpected but not unwelcomed guest instead of the next sacrifice, but truly you're not complaining. This is thousand times better than to die outside from the cold.

As you sit there innocently waiting for the next important thing to happen, you can see that the two young women who arrived after you are exchanging a few words with Miss Tall Lady while taking off their coats to reveal several layers of winter clothes underneath. It's strange to you, but you pay it no mind. Every person takes different to the cold, after all.

The tall lady starts pacing back and forth in front of you heatedly talking, glancing at you once or twicce, and it's not hard for you to notice the strain and exasperation in her tone. Whatever she's saying sounds serious, but you can only make out a few words like 'offering' 'wrong' and 'mistake'.

Not knowing what to respond your find yourself distracted by the decor. Your eyes roaming every detail of the chiseled fireplace, taking in the most fine of the details. Then, is the stairwell that catches you attention and you can't help but to think it would be a great place to slide on a cardboard box.

"Are you listening to me?" A commanding voice and a snap of fingers brings your wandering mind down from the clouds and your neck snaps to face the woman. Her eyes are a beautiful golden, and you can't believe you didn't notice before.

"Your eyes are mesemerizing..." You say in your language, breathless, the words slipping past your lips almost as in a trance. Your gaze goes a bit down and your fingers twitch with a sudden desire to run them over those blood-red lips and feel for yourself if they are as soft as they look.

Miss Tall Lady looks thrown off by the foreign accent in your voice. It's definitely one she hadn't have the pleasure of hearing before and somehow makes her pause. Her mind might be playing tricks on her but why did whatever you said felt like some kind of compliment?

"Mother?" One of the young women from before asks tentatively. You don't know if you're right but you think the girls are the woman's daughters.

"Take this one to the library. I will follow shortly." Miss Tall Lady says before hurriedly walking away, though without losing her lady-like grace. Your eyes follow an hypnothic sway of hips going up the stairs before you sense a hand being extended towards you, expecting.

"Teacup, please." A blonde, very polite-looking young lady says. You jump a bit in your seat and inevitably blush, thinking for a moment you were caught in your respecful percieving, but to your relief the woman in front of you didn't seem to notice that.

"Uh..." You're not sure what Miss Blonde wants, but judging by the look she's giving you, you suppose she wants to greet you formally, so you do what any other civilized person would do. "Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, miss." You say as you properly position the teacup in your left hand and with your right you shake hers. She's taken aback, but after a second of hesitation a smile breaks and graces her face.

A pair of loud laughs sound from behind the blonde. The young woman with the dark hair approaches you both from the side with an amused grin. "I like this one, Bels."

"An odd one indeed." Miss Blonde replies.

The last one of the unusual trio approaches on the other side of the blonde, the redhead you knocked out earlier. She looks at you intently. "Just so you know, no one besides mother sends me to sleep without consecuenses, little one." and punctuates her statement with a boop to your nose.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your revenge later, Daniela. Let's not keep Mother waiting." You're hoisted up by the hand. The warm comforters falling off your back and piling on the big chair, instantly making you shiver with the lack of heat. The three women walk away and you have no other option than to follow them.

The door is opened and inside you find yourelf gaping at the amount of books stacked on the big shelves. You can count with one hand the times you've been in a house that has its own library, but this one by far takes the cake. "Can i grab a book?" You ask to Miss Dark Hair, pointing to one of the nearestt bookshelves while giving your trademark Puppy Eyes.

"What? You want to read?"

"Book." You say, pointing again insistently to the bottom row of antique books.

"Sure, go have your fun while Mother arrives." Miss Blonde nods and you waste no time to grab the fattest, heaviest book of them all and sit on the floor with your legs crossed, only to sigh in dissapointment as the book is in a language you yet again can't understand. But as you flip the pages you can see that it has very depicting images of old eras that you find fascinating.

You don't notice the time passing as you 'read' undisturbingly, until a big hand is placed on your shoulder and you almost jump out of yor skin, closing the book with a snap, effectively losing the page where the images told you the process to make soap.

"Someone's been studying, i see." The Tall Lady from before stands before you in all her height and you cand help but to rake your gaze all over that goddess until you reach her eyes, not without your flushed face at the end. "So, i brought you here for a reason." She says while her hand motions you to stand. "Here at the Dimitrescu Castle we are in possesion of many doors to knowledge, which does include many books that offer some insight about other countries along with their tongues." You're nodding along whatever she's saying, not a single word ringing a bell in your understanding but to you it would be impolite to leave her hanging. Tall Lady stops in her tracks, in front of a very dusty bookshelf with even older books. Her hand goes from side to side selecting several books which she then hands to you.

You eye the books curiously and you notice that they're a vast collections of translating dictionaries, all varying in length and language. You kneel and start looking through them, being mindful of the most antique and delicate ones. You spot a thin one but with a very familiar dialect and you look up to give Tall Lady a toothy smile. "This one is! Uh... Wait, let's see." You open the book and look through the content searching for words. You stand and motion the lady to lean a bit and start pointing words.

'Student.'

'Cold.'

'Lost'

'Thankful."

As you keep making sense with the few words you're provided, the expression on the lady's face changes to a one of understanding and pity. She pulls out a very fancy-looking pair of glasses out from who knows where and takes the book from your hands, flipping through it's pages, looking for words of her own.

'Stay.'

'Dinner.'

'Sleep.'

'Rest.'

She points word by word and you get the hint. You nod eagerly and smile. Tall Lady smiles back at you and for a second there you feel your heart paralize. You could have sworn you saw a pair of unusually long canines on that pearly white smile. But surely you're just tired, right?

"Daniela, please take our guest to one of the spare rooms." The lady says gesturing to the red-haired young woman.

"Yes, Mother." And the next thing you know your being lead by the arm out of the room.

Once you're gone the tall lady's whole demeanor changes to one of anger and she let's out a frustrated sigh. "The nerve of those villagers. To send a foreigner as the monthly offering! No wonder why the man-thing you brought was insisting it was a mistake."

"They're not respecting the deal, Mother. Should i make them understand who they're dealing with?"

The Tall Lady's pointer finger rests on her lips as she thinks. "No. I'd like to have a word with the leader." She put the book on a the nearrest table with a bit too much force, snapping the poor table in half. "Bela, bring him to me."

---------

Part two is up. Less comedy, more plot. This isn't planned to be long so maybe this will only have one or two more chapters.

@thejennystuttle

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #re8 #my fic #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village

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aerltarg · 3 years

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Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

#thank you for the ask!!!#hope it didnt get too long and rambly afshsjsjs #once started talking its hard to shut up 😂#and im sorry for any possible mistakes #.txt #rhaegar targaryen #targnation #mypost #fandom wank #anti antis #majorton #*answered #asks

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starbuckie · 3 years

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𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld

prompt: “we’re divorced?”

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :) this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died.

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England.

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them.

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions.

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.”

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.”

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light.

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel.

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where.

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips.

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice.

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy.

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her.

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity.

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see.

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.”

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his.

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending.

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky.

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-”

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies.

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’.

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.”

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?”

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?”

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart.

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.”

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.” Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty.

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised.

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.”

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.”

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room.

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!”

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?”

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.”

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed.

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

One step forward...

Shen-laoshi has taken to wearing the clothes Luo Binghe had bought for him.

They fit perfectly, following the outlines of his teacher’s body much more closely than the frayed shirts and worn pants Shen-laoshi had brought with him.

In a way, it felt like the culmination of weeks of waiting. From Shen Yuan barely daring to leave the one room Luo Binghe had declared was his to him leaving unfinished books and half-emptied glasses of water around like he would at home, progress had been slow but, he believes, consistent.

The part of him that wants nothing more than to own all of Shen Yuan couldn’t be more pleased with the latest development. Luo Binghe had been more concerned with providing anything his laoshi might need to bother with the usual perks someone in Shen-laoshi’s position might have expected. Luo Binghe’s busy schedule left them little time for foreign vacations or luxurious nights out. He didn’t think Shen-laoshi was the type to demand designer items and exclusive jewelry. His hobbies were not especially expensive. All in all, he left Luo Binghe with very few options to spoil him like his student wanted to. While Binghe’s ultimate goal was an egalitarian relationship, he very much wouldn’t mind indulging in those more stereotypical aspects of their current arrangement. He was guilty of imagining Shen-laoshi acting coy, asking him for treats in exchange for another type of favor altogether, more times than he will ever admit.

Since he hasn’t gotten the chance to spoil him as he dreamed of yet, letting his eyes feast on Shen-laoshi willingly wrapped in vestments Luo Binghe had handpicked for him was as close as it got. Mine is all he can think about as his stare is glued to his laoshi’s swan neck, so delightfully framed by the shirt’s opened collar.

Luo Binghe has excellent taste in all things.

Shen-laoshi has to be aware of what he’s doing, hasn’t he? After that first misstep, he’d been so careful around him Luo Binghe had regretted his moaning. This has to be a deliberate choice, to drape himself in a physical representation of all Luo Binghe wanted to give him.

Luo Binghe dares to hope it is. Even his occasionally absent-minded teacher must have accounted for how this change would look to his host? It certainly feels more like invitation than rejection.

He’s going to try his luck. At this point, he doesn’t think it likely that Shen-laoshi will take his advances badly. The worse he’ll do is shy away.

Luo Binghe moves to the couch Shen-laoshi is occupying, giddy when his teacher instantly makes room for him. The move is probed by instinctive awareness of Luo Binghe, and completely devoid of the awkwardness that had tinted their interactions when Shen-laoshi had first arrived.

He does tense up a bit when Luo Binghe rests a hand on his thigh, but the way he stays still, continuing to read instead of fleeing or objecting, is tacit permission.

Normally, Luo Binghe might take advantage of such a permissive mood by stealing both the book and Shen-laoshi’s lips, but this time, he’s going to push a little bit further. He applies his mouth to the side of that fair neck, and kisses it gently before bruising the skin.

His handiwork on Shen Yuan’s skin only spurs him on. Luo Binghe’s sole focus becomes worshipping those few centimetres of exposed skin, futilely trying to sate his hunger but only feeding it.

The muffled sound of the book dropping on the floor isn’t enough to stop him.

“Binghe.”

Blood rushes to his head at his laoshi’s breathy tone. If it was intended to be a rebuke, it is a very poor one.

A delicate, rapidly warming hand rests on his arm. “Binghe… What are you doing?”

It’s a tragedy that he has to lift his mouth from his teacher’s neck to reply. “Something I am very bad at, if Laoshi has to ask.” He would have thought it was self-evident.

Witnessing Shen-laoshi’s blush from this angle is mesmerising. Luo Binghe wants to follow its progression with his mouth. “That’s not what… Why now?”

There are no bad moments for this. There are only good and better occasions. “Why not? I’m here, so is Laoshi, and he’s being so tantalising refusing him would be criminal.” For Luo Binghe honestly believes Shen-laoshi knows what he’s doing, resting on Luo Binghe’s couch by Luo Binghe’s side, reading the book Luo Binghe bought him and all prettied up in clothes Luo Binghe bought. Shen-laoshi can be oblivious, but not that oblivious.

The lack of denial to his comment also is a point in his favor.

Luo Binghe returns to the object of his fascination.

“Binghe! Slow down…”

As much as it pains him to admit it, he can’t deny it is a reasonable request. There has to be some level of trepidation remaining in his teacher. The last thing he wants is for the strength of his desire to push him away.

Also, their first time is not happening on a couch. Luo Binghe has many nice, wide, very comfortable beds, all of which he fully intends to christen with his laoshi when the time comes.

Not that he would mind carrying Shen-laoshi to one of said beds. His teacher still weights too little for this to be a hardship.

In response, Luo Binghe presses his teeth to the lobe of his laoshi’s ear. “Anything Laoshi wants, he shall get.” Slowly taking Shen Yuan apart also has appeal.

It just demands a lot of him. Remaining in control when Shen-laoshi’s breathing grows laboured, when his hands refuse to stay limp to instead hold on Luo Binghe for dear life, is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. It’s a miracle that his hands are steady when he undoes the first buttons of Shen-laoshi’s shirt to finally allow himself a glimpse of what it’s been hiding.

It hid no surprise. Shen-laoshi is perfect. Luo Binghe can already tell he'll never get enough of kissing the mole on his right collarbone.

If he's lucky, Shen-laoshi won't either.

"...Binghe…"

He's also certain he will never tire of Shen-laoshi calling for him in this way.

"Binghe!"

With a lot of reluctance, Luo Binghe abandons the chest he'd barely had a chance to get to know.

Only to instantly be assaulted by the vision of his teacher debauched by him, messy and red and nowhere near as unapproachable as he once appeared.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself. "Yes?"

"That's enough, isn't it?"

Luo Binghe stares at his laoshi with betrayed eyes. It very much isn’t? Can he really say such a thing when his voice shook as he spoke, when his cheeks are flushed, when his fingers still tremble on Luo Binghe’s arm? The one he loves wouldn’t be this cruel to him, would he? He did say to take it slow, but this slow? He hasn’t even shrugged his shirt off!

It’s a very good look on him, what isn’t, but the point still stands! “Laoshi!”

He doesn’t have to wait for Shen-laoshi’s reaction to understand his mistake. “Don’t call me that now!” It was enough to snap his laoshi out of his indulging mood; Shen Yuan manages to close his shirt and jump off the couch before Luo Binghe can stop him.

The urge to go after him is very strong.

He doesn’t.

_________________

Shen Yuan isn’t freaking out. He’s too old to be freaking out.

So maybe he’d figured out he’d die alone. He might have made peace with that a while ago. What did he have to offer to a partner? Neither time nor money? What would have been the point of dating in those conditions?

So he’s been single for… a while. A long while. It takes time to get back into things! And Binghe… wasn't making it easy.

It wasn't his fault he wasn't anything like Shen Yuan expected his potential partner to be.

Not that he'd thought about that much.

Binghe was living the life Shen Yuan had left behind. He was attractive enough that Shen Yuan, who had never given another man a glance, couldn't deny it. And he was young. An adult fully grown, but still younger than him by many years.

He wasn't supposed to make Shen Yuan feel the way he does.

Shen Yuan should be a better man than this.

And yet, life had proven, time and time again, that he very much wasn't.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

Monet Issues

Happy COI day! Here's some no-longer-canon-compliant angst because apparently the book itself isn't going to be enough for me :)

No spoilers here, but I know not everyone is checking tags and such right now, so I'm going to tag a few people who have interacted with my fics before (lmk if you don't want to be!). Don't feel obligated to read this though, it's a little dark. @littlx-songbxrd @alastairxcarstairs @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @archeronesta @thechangeling @styxdrawings @upsidedown-cats @fictionally-fantastic @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Fanfiction Masterlist

CW: mention or discussion of alcoholism, physical abuse, bullying, and toxic relationships

(title from the song Monet Issues by Chase Petra, which I may or may not have listened to on repeat while writing this)

Out of all of the people he’d ever snapped at, Alastair Carstairs had never lost his temper with his mother. Not until today.

“He’s the same. He’s the same as he was last spring, before he left, the same as he was ten years ago. He is never going to change. Not for Cordelia, not for you, not for the baby. Why are you still doing this to yourself?” he pleaded.

His mother smiled and sighed. “That’s enough, Alastair joon. Your father is flawed, but he loves us. He’s trying. You’ll understand one day, once you’ve fallen in love and started a family of your own.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Just answer one question then: if this child is a boy, will you allow him to do everything I was forced to do?”

She hardened her expression. “Joonam, that’s just what family-”

“No. Cordelia never did those things, did she? I never wanted her to. You never wanted her to.”

“That was different. She’s… Well, she has a big heart, you know. I knew that you could handle such a burden, azizam. I know that it was difficult, but look at the man that you’ve become. I’m so proud of you. These trials life brings us… they only make us stronger.”

Alastair could feel his stomach twisting as his mother spoke. “No.”

“Alastair-”

“No! I never asked for this! I never wanted this! You told me that I needed to be head of the family in his absence, but now that he’s returned, it’s as if the past six months never happened? As if the past decade never happened? He has been absent for ten years. Cordelia was allowed to simply be a child. Because she had a ‘big heart,’ you say? What about mine? Was it always small, or did you, did Father make it that way? Because I genuinely cannot remember a time before. When was I meant to just be a child? When you sent me away to school, to meet all of the boys who were allowed to simply grow up and make mistakes and learn from them while I was busy trying to keep my father alive and my family together? I didn’t need to be stronger. I was a child!” His voice cracked. “I needed to be loved and protected! I needed someone to take care of me, not the other way around! I needed to feel safe! I was a child!”

He clenched his fists at his sides, seeing white. “It didn’t make me stronger. It made me- it made me broken. It made me bitter and angry, so much so that I pushed it onto everyone else. It made me a monster. Do you know how awful school was? They taught me to hate myself. I became a bully because it was easier to hurt others than let them hurt me. I let nearly every part of me die, just trying to survive it. I knew someone who didn’t, a fourteen-year-old boy who I watched die. And yet I preferred that over the idea of returning home and dealing with Father’s illness again. Do you want to know the truth?”

He took a step closer to his mother, her expression hard and unreadable. “The truth is that the moment I met someone who I thought might actually take care of me and protect me, I ran to him. I trusted him like I’d never allowed myself to trust anyone. And I stayed with him, even as he lied to me, as he left me cold and alone night after night, as he made it clear time and time again that he would never prioritize me over his own whims and desires. I wanted so badly to feel loved that I gave him all I had, all of my time and energy and attention, knowing that he would never return any of it.”

He took a step back, finally feeling the tears that had spilled down his cheeks. “I’ve realized now that I deserve better. I deserved better. You deserve better.” He lowered his voice and looked down. He knew that his mother loved him, that Cordelia loved him, that maybe even Elias loved him, in his own way. He just wished he never had to wonder whether his life would be different if someone had cared about him. “I know… I know you love me, that you love all of us. I know that you didn’t have many choices. You were in a terrible situation. But I can’t stand here and watch you sit in your denial any longer, knowing the prices we have both paid for it.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to respond, but she did not. Alastair did the only thing he knew left to do: he turned and left. As he started towards the staircase, he stopped and spoke one last time. “You were meant to protect me, and you did not. That’s okay, because I’m learning how to be whole again. I’m finding better ways to survive. I am mending my own heart, alone, because it is my only option. But I want to make one thing clear, this is not meant to be the price of family. This did not make me strong, and you have nothing to be proud of.”

Finally satisfied, he retreated to his room without waiting for a reaction.

***

Sona returned to her room after her son stormed off. Her eyes scanned her dresser, a quiet mess of makeup, perfumes, Elias’ house key. She’d only just given it to him, but it was pointless. He always lost them. At least today, he’d forgotten them in their own home, and not at a bar or on a park bench or in some hansom cab halfway across the city. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror, at the purple spot under her eyes, at the wrinkles now set into her face, and thought of the days when she was younger. Did she always look older than her years?

Elias had been older than her, of course. Much older. Despite her young age, she’d been a widow. Not just a widow, but accused of murder. Despite all that had happened since, she could still remember clearly going before the Mortal Sword, confessing all that had happened, and watching herself acquitted and her husband’s death swept under the rug by a society that did not wish to face the reality of what she had endured.

She’d been frightened, terrified, certain that no one would ever love after what she had done. She’d always known that her life would be difficult, that it would be unlikely for her to find a respectable husband, that she would never marry for love. Theodor was supposed to be a catch. She was meant to be the luckiest girl alive. She was young and naïve and blood spilled for it over, and over, and over, until she broke. Until everyone around her could see that she was broken.

She thought that Elias would make her whole. She believed that he would take care of her, that he would love her, that he would provide. She hadn’t known how she could be so lucky, twice.

Now, she wondered if she should have taken off on that milking cart.

She’d thought about it many times, what her life could have become if she’d simply left. If she’d run away, away from the Shadow World, away from all that knew her past. She could have started over as a mundane.

She always pushed the thought aside. If she had run, she would never have had her children.

Her children.

Their lives had been much more difficult than she’d dreamed of. They were never going to be easy, not being who they are, not in this world they lived in. Some pains were unavoidable.

Some were not.

Alastair had been a happy child, once. He’d carried so much love in his heart, perhaps even more than Cordelia ever had. That is why, when he learned the truth, he agreed so readily to help. Because he loved Cordelia, and her, and Elias, so much. He did not yet know that for some, the cost of love was pain and hopelessness.

She allowed him to pay that price, the same one that she had paid, because it was easier than accepting the truth. Even as she watched him grow more and more anxious, as dark circles imprinted themselves under his eyes, as Risa shot her disapproving looks every time she asked him to look after Elias, or take care of Cordelia, or clean up some bottles, she allowed that price to be paid.

She thought that the Shadowhunter Academy could be good for him, that perhaps it would benefit him to be away from the house. She was a fool, and by the time he first returned from school, she could see that the little boy she’d once known had disappeared.

She could see him again, now, fighting to be heard. She could see that her son was finding himself again, but that it was a slow and painful process, and that he was still very far away. She wondered where her old self had gone, and if she could find her, or if she even still existed at all.

She’d always known that Alastair was similar to her. Too similar, it seemed, and now, he had made the same mistakes she had. She knew the pain he felt too well, the pain that she could see in his eyes, hear in his voice. She’d thought that was love, but it was not. She’d learned the hard way, and now Alastair had, too. She knew that it was not a coincidence.

You had the biggest heart of them all, she wanted to tell her son. It’s still yours. I’m sorry.

She did not know how.

She rested a hand on her swollen belly and thought about taking care of an infant while also taking care of her husband. She could no longer not ask anyone else to do it for her.

For this baby, still unmarred by life’s hardships, for Alastair, for Cordelia, for herself, she took a deep breath and gathered her husband’s few belongings. She threw them in a suitcase, along with a short note, and placed it on their front steps, locking the door behind her.

A/N: Thanks for reading! The Farsi words are just terms of endearment, like “my dear.” I just want to say that I don’t necessarily think everything that Alastair said or Sona thought is true (or that Alastair even believed everything he said), I was just trying to get inside their heads a bit. Forgiving (and blaming) parents is really hard and complicated, and I really wanted to explore how Alastair felt about Sona a bit more.

#fanfiction #alastair carstairs #sona carstairs #anti elias carstairs #the last hours #tlh #chain of gold #chog #cog2 #cw alcoholism #cw physical abuse #cw bullying #cw toxic relationship

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 3 years

Text

Lessons to Build - ii: you can’t outrun what is in you

Summary: Two years ago, you break off your 5-year long engagement with Min Yoongi of the Min family and ran off to New York. However, for people like you, running away has never been a lasting solution.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Taehyung x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter. Y/N comes home, we meet Yoongi but not MEET-MEET. Might make you root for Taehyung. Notes: Short chapters for quicker updates is my jam. This took a while because i wasn’t sure how I wanted to present Yoongi yet. But here it is. He may be “kind” but there are other things at play that affected (and will affect) his decisions. Same with Y/N. Also Tumblr won’t let me tag some users. :(( I hope you guys find this update! And thank you for the people finding this fic! Word Count: 1.6k Prologue Lesson I

Home.

Home shouldn’t be something you have to run away from. And yet, the moment you booked your flight, fingers tapping away on your phone - your passport details, credit card, seat number - an undeniable weight has began to made its home on your shoulders. As encompassing as a blanket but as imprisoning as heavy sand.

“What do you mean you’re flying to Seoul? Now??”

Isn’t it funny how things change in less than 24 hours? In a blink of an eye?

Taehyung’s voice is shrill in the background as you toss clothes upon clothes over your shoulder, hopping they’d get at least near the perimeter of your open suitcase.

Around you is your life in disarray. At the back of your mind, you find it slightly disturbing how easily it could fit in several boxes. No roots.

“Yes—“

“Why?”

You pause from grabbing your toiletries. There are things to do here in LA - there’s the campaign, the meetings with investors, your contracts, your would-be dog - your life.

Your mother told you that your father doesn’t want you to make the flight. That he’s fine, and it’s just exhaustion but the waver in your mother’s voice had your heart dropping straight to your stomach. And so despite her half-hearted protests, you’ve turned over your works over email and sent the rest for your assistants to manage.

Seoul may as well be just another place in the map. No, you’re not coming for Seoul, you’re coming for family.

You grab your phone off your bed side table and press it against your ear. “My dad had a heart attack.”

On the other line, you can feel Taehyung consider his words. “I’m coming with you.”

Your hands pause from folding your clothes and you look at your phone and as if seeing your questioning gaze, Taehyung plows on. “Yeontan and I are coming with you.” “Why?”

There are two ways for Taehyung to answer. One easy way is to tell you the truth. That he knows you need a friend, a tether to your life here, someone who will solidify what you’ve built. Someone, something tangible, someone to prove to you that your life here is as real as the life you left.

Going back always runs the risk of regressing, falling back to old patterns, he learned.

After all, he knows the feeling of being forced back to square one.

Or, he could tell you this, “My brother’s been bugging me to visit. And I hate flying alone.”

You don’t mention that he’s flown across the globe more than you could count - even flew to France once because he wanted authentic mille-feuilles - and just nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Okay, Lady, I’ll be there.”

The collapse of the CEO of the biggest chain of hotels and one of the upcoming land developers in an annual gala event can never be kept a secret.

You’ve seen it happen only once before, to Mr. Min. As a young girl, you remember how the media feasted around him like flies, and how shareholders of his company stalked around like wolves under sheep’s clothing.

It was as if everyone was waiting with a baited breath for the old man to die. A final shift of power from the old ways to the new. It was sensational, romanticized by the public - not sparing a thought or two to the families except when they needed something.

That was years ago, and it’s an unfortunate fact that hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t expect this - at least we look good.” Taehyung mutters, decidedly ignoring the occasional flash of camera in his periphery. They were still trying to be subtle, maybe not sure of the “scoop”? Scared of your supposed hidden bodyguards? Who knows?

“You always look good, Tae.” You whisper lightheartedly, forcing calmness in your words.

Around you, people continue to buzz around, grabbing their suitcases from the conveyor, talking on the phone, glancing at their watches. But they too have noticed, and glances towards your way multiply as the minutes pass by.

Taehyung hums in agreement, looking as if he hadn’t just flown across the world. “Yes, it requires effort, but don’t go telling them that.”

A loud shutter sound draws you away from your conversation and you boldly meet the lenses of a masked photographer eye-to-eye. Every bit of the Oh heiress they’ve built up in their mind.

Last time you checked, you were the high society’s prodigal princess. Ran away from home, off to play Cinderella in the United States. Keeping busy with shallow causes, burning through your daddy’s money.

You wonder how they come up with their headlines. You’ve long since given up in appealing towards their journalist’s ethics, but with how creative they come up with stories, you’re a bit disappointed with the headline you last read. The least they could do was make it more fun - a hidden lover? Pregnant? A twist, or something.

You scoff. Although you may have been away for two years, you still are your parents’ daughter. This is child’s play.

Dressed in a black luxury pantsuit, heels lifting you up from the ground and make-up on point, you provide no weak points. Eyes half-lidded you stare straight to the cameras who’ve come out of their hiding, propriety be damned and all.

Oh Y/N is back.

(And if it feels like shrugging on a second skin, you pay it no mind)

“Tae… Tae… Tae!”

Taehyung jostles awake beside you, the hand you were shaking him with falls on your lap. “Wha— What?”

Yeontan’s yip echoes his owner’s confusion. The sound sounding as exhausted as he probably is. Flying has and will probably always be stressful for pets, but Taehyung refused to have someone dog sit Yeontan for this trip saying that he needs to meet his cousins, RJ or something.

Your eyes soften at your friend’s sleepy eyes. Outside the sky is bright, but you too can feel the time difference and jet lag creeping up.

“Sleep this off at the hotel, Tae. I’ll have the driver drop you off.” You’re already reaching out to press the button for the partition when Taehyung shakes his head.

“‘M not sleepy.”

“You’re dead on your feet, Tae.” Fondness laced in your words, you watch Taehyung straighten in his seat beside you and card his fingers through his hair, making the mess look like a ~coordinated~ one.

“I’m not letting you go there alone.”

“I’m going to the hospital, Tae, not war.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. Taehyung spies the way you tuck your hands around yourself, almost curling inwards, almost shaking.

No.

“Could’ve fooled me, you’re dressed to kill.”

You look over expecting a teasing grin on his face but you falter, frozen, at the sight of his eyes. Dark chocolate eyes pin you to your spot, and heat blooms on your cheeks. Suddenly, you feel like your suit is too tight and even in its dark shade - too sheer.

Almost two years of friendship has not rendered you immune to Kim Taehyung.

Like the passing scenery, the moment is gone as quick as it came. Taehyung smiles and lifts Yeontan to his shoulder.

“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?”

There’s no question as to who he’s referring to. “He might be, my mom said he almost hasn’t left my dad’s side.”

Taehyung scoffs, “Like a vulture.”

You want to defend Yoongi but despite leaving the country because of him, you did keep updated. Partly because it’s ingrained to you to stay on top of news relating to your family business and its periphery but also… well, you don’t know what you hoped for.

In the span of less than two years, Min Yoongi dragged their struggling company and made it great again. Competitors lost out, assets were seized left and right, absorbed, repurposed in the gaping maw of a resurging giant.

He’s ruthless.

But you can be too.

Oh Jiyoung is not a young man anymore.

He doesn’t think he’s been young since his mother abandoned him and his father when he was ten. He wasn’t young when he left school at fifteen, or when he went back when he was eighteen.

He wasn’t young when he bussed tables, or worked in shucking oysters Yeosodo with swollen scarred hands. He wasn’t even young when he first met his wife, fell in love and learned what it was like to be loved back.

So, no, he isn’t surprised when he had a heart attack. A little off-put, and a bit terrified but not surprised. He’s lived more decades than he actually expected to already.

Looking down at his hands, he thinks that if he’d kicked the bucket right then and there the only true regret he’ll have is one that involves the young man across him.

Oh Jiyoung is old, but he hasn’t forgotten the mannerisms of a young man. His wife still makes him feel like one after all this years. So of course, he’s noticed the young man across him fiddle with his rings, his feet tapping to a rhythm only he knows.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

Yoongi looks up from his seat to the teasing face of his would’ve been father-in-law. His thumb pauses from rubbing against the ring in his forefinger, he doesn’t answer. He feels the stare of your father bore down on him and he almost shifts like a boy caught in a lie.

Your flight has landed just less than two hours ago, he doubts you’ll give yourself time to rest first before heading to the hospital. Which means, any time now, those doors will open and you’ll be here.

How odd.

As if summoned, the doors open and —

— there you are.

Yoongi’s eyes don’t stay on you too long, not with a tall man hovering behind you, dark eyes trained on him. Your ease at this man’s close proximity sets fire at the back of his neck, and even if he wanted to say hello, this, instead comes out.

“The rumors are true then, huh?”

Tag List: @moonlitmyg @shadowstark @kookiebunnii @loveyoongles @swegstuffsuckers @anpanman-sonyeondan @veronawrites @ariadne-06 @springjade @neverthefirstchoice @creatorspalace End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

#chaebol min yoongi #CHAEBOL TAEHYUNG #chaebol reader #CEO min yoongi #Future CEO reader #model taehyung #foiled arranged marriage #arrianged marriage au #marriage of convenience AU #Yoongi x reader #min yoongi #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts angst #yoongi angst #lessons to build #bangtanarmynet

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nanagoswife · 3 years

Text

Please, Don't Go. - Chapter 6

Summary: Flashbacks come back, but with a twist for Obi-Wan. An encounter happens...

W/C: 3.6k

Warnings: Where do I begin? Descriptions of a man burned alive, angst, murder, mention of blood and burned skin, injuries, suffocation, dark thoughts, I think that's it? (There's a reason I posted a heads up)

A/N: This does have a reference to Karen Miller’s Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space. I don’t mention the character’s name in this because it may be considered a spoiler? I don’t know. But, it’s a legends book anyways😅 anyways, the reaction Obi-Wan has is actually the same as it is with a little spice added. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.

- - -

As he held you, you eventually fell asleep in his arms. You more than deserved it. So, he took the time to admire your sleeping form.

Obi-Wan was determined to commit every detail to his memory. The slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell around you, how warm you were against him. Most of all, he wanted to memorize how peaceful you looked despite recent events. A small smile was on your lips as you were in the comfort of his arms. It was a smile that he didn’t think he would see for a while before he came to talk with you.

That’s when he began to think about what you had shown him. There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for that. Your worries ran way deeper than just your personal situation. You were worried more about your planet, your people, rather than your family. It was truly selfless, yet he still dreaded the fact that you were carrying that burden this whole time.

At first, he started to think of situations that he may have seen that were similar. In truth, there was not much. He’d seen slavery and torture, even been a victim of torture, and there was only one scene that he had seen from you that he had once witnessed. A truly horrid image, let alone witnessed experience. It made him glad that it was only an image for you.

Pained screams filled the air. A pang of guilt pulled on Obi-Wan as he looked to his master. Their eyes met with a mutual feeling. They had both failed to keep the man safe. The two of them still advanced as they could possibly still save him.

That thought was wiped away quicker than a varactyl finishing a hundred meter race. His eyes first settled on the flames licking at the grassy ground. There must’ve been fuel around the small area before catching onto the stake where the man was. He was suspended on this stake and Obi-Wan had no time to try and see how. Instead, the man’s restarted screams broke this thought. The young man watched in horror as the flames quickly consumed the man attached. The agony filled screams, the sight of fire burning a blistering skin, and Maker, the smell.

He wanted to find the people had done this, but he wasn’t able to. The feelings he was having were against the Jedi Code. That wasn’t the only thing stopping him, though. What he was witnessing had frozen him to place and he thought about how that could be him if they captured him. No, it’d be worse. This man was only speaking against working people to death, whereas Obi-Wan would not only be defending this stance, but he’d be trying to send them to jail at the very least.

After that day, he had been plagued by the sight. Everytime he tried to sleep, he was constantly visited by the scene over and over. It had gotten so bad that he refused to sleep at a point. He was nineteen when he had seen this and nothing he had seen before this had shaken him so badly.

If he were being honest, he still was visited by these dreams every now and then. The only difference was that now he had come to terms with it and it wasn’t as horrifying anymore. Not when it was something he constantly re-lived for many years. Thank the Force that Qui-Gon helped him then, and still occasionally does.

Momentarily, he was broken from his thoughts as you shifted the slightest bit, making yourself more comfortable and burying even further into his chest. A smile crept across his lips as he watched your still peaceful expression. He pulled the blanket higher and draped them around your shoulders so that it would provide further comfort in the chilly room.

Then, he started to think about that moment again. Only, this time, it wasn’t the man. In fact, the person wasn’t a man at all. The person now on the stake was you. Accompanying the rest of the vivid details, he was now imagining your agonizing screams as the flames consumed you. He imagined how he watched you die and had no other choice but to stay in place as he was also constrained; held by two guards who forced his eyes to meet yours.

As he watched, something in him snapped as your screams had ceased. The connections, the bond the two of you shared was broken. You were gone. An unbearable pain filled him as he realized that he couldn’t even hold you one last time. You didn’t deserve the excruciating death that you had been subject to.

An anger bubbled in his chest as he thought about how those men had done that to you. They didn’t even let him say goodbye. Instead of being afraid, his anger took over him. He was determined to find the two culprits and make them suffer. Nothing but revenge filled his mind as he knew they were not far away.

In an act of blind rage, he broke the restraints that bound his hands with the force and easily fought off the two that had held him in place. Neither of them had his lightsaber, but that wasn’t a problem.

He made his way to where the two fiends were surely enjoying their recent endeavors. When he opened the doors to the building they were in, the inside was suddenly an entirely different place. The surroundings looked like some sort of hallway with multiple red shields on the way to the end. There was a glance of someone in front of him behind one of the red barriers but it quickly dissipated and the entire inside of the building changed once again.

Though he was confused as the building was once again the actual one, his eyes landed on the two men. They were quivering in terror as he advanced. There was something about it that actually pleased him.

Then, everything was a blur. All he could catch glimpses of were moments where his knuckles were bloodied, some point he had his lightsaber, and then one where he was force choking one of them.

When it was over, the two were in an unrecognizable heap in front of him. His breathing was heavy as he stared at it, lightsaber still ignited.

An overwhelming sense of grief and dread for his own actions overcame him. He crumpled to his knees and started to cry. What had he done that led you to your fate? What took over him that played out this moment? He held his face in his hands as so much conflict flooded through him.

“Obi,” he heard your soft voice accompanied with a gentle shaking motion. Opening his eyes, he looked into your eyes that were filled with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Your words confused him until he noticed his rapid breathing. Not only that, but you brought a hand up and wiped tears away from his face. When had he even fallen asleep?

“Was it what I showed you? Because, if it was, I’m so sorry that-”

“Shh, no it wasn’t that,” he reassured you as he brought a hand to your cheek and rubbed comforting circles into your cheek. “I… I just had an old nightmare.”

You met his eyes and you immediately knew he wasn’t telling you the full truth. The two of you had spent so much time together that you could each read the other well. So, he knew he wasn’t going to get by this.

“Obi-Wan, you were making sounds. It sounded like you were in pain.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. There was no way he could keep this secret. “There was something that you showed me that I once witnessed,” he said as you gently traced patterns on his chest to comfort him. Then, he told you everything. That mission on Antar 4, then how it all shifted to how it was you instead of the man he had witnessed. The only thing he left out was what he saw when he first opened the door to the building. He would bring that to Qui-Gon.

You listened intently and continued your subtle actions that soothed Obi-Wan’s painful retelling. After he finished the dream, you pulled him to you and caressed the back of his head as his face went into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, Obi. It was only a nightmare.”

“What if this is a way the force is showing me that I’d give in? I don’t know what I would do. Y/N, I’m scared,” he blurted out, still pressed against you.

The admission almost shocked you. At the same time, you understood because it also scared you. “Obi-Wan, it’s alright. It wasn’t real and I won’t leave you in life, or in death. I’ll still be with you.”

This seemed to calm him down. His breathing became more even and he began to relax.

“I do want to ask you one thing.”

He brought his head from its spot against your neck and moved so that he met yours, “Of course.”

“Please, don’t go to the Dark Side because of me. Promise me that you won’t seek revenge or act on it if anything like that happens. I want to be your strength to continue on, not your weakness.”

Obi-Wan’s beautiful blue eyes looked into yours with immense adoration and care. Slowly, he nodded.

“I promise.”

Months had gone by and nothing happened. The most dangerous situations they had gone through was occasionally tripping over something. It made the two Jedi more suspicious rather than relieved.

You were also suspicious of it all. Just before this being sent into hiding, you had been attacked by bounty hunters. So why weren’t they trying to find you. It couldn’t be because you all had actually found a planet that good to hide on.

At the moment, Qui-Gon was out trying to contact your brother to find out what was going on. On top of the suspicious quiet, there had been a message saying that conflict was quelled enough that it was safe again.

“Shouldn’t this be good news,” you asked more warily as you watched Qui-Gon disappear into the bushes.

“We need to make sure it isn’t a trick. This could be someone else that would put your life more in danger for their own gain,” Obi-Wan replied. He was waiting very patiently for Qui-Gon to fade far enough to know it was safe.

You were thinking the same thing when you turned around to face Obi-Wan. For a few moments, the two of you stood and waited until he finally nodded the all clear.

Quickly, you made your way into his arms. It was simply a hug, but the two of you felt like it would give something away to Qui-Gon. The two of you were sure that he was catching on to a few changes, like sitting next to each other closely or going out to watch the stars often, but that was all.

Mainly, the two of you would wait until Qui-Gon was gone, or Obi-Wan would sneak into your room after his master was asleep.

The most unforgettable night was only a week ago. It was one of the nights that Obi-Wan didn’t have to go out to get supplies and Qui-Gon went due to contacting your planet as well.

That night, the moon was high and full and positioned perfectly in the clearing of trees that it shed just the right amount of light. That night was already special, as it was the day that your father had been coronated and married your mother.

You were celebrating on your own as you looked up at the stars. Obi-Wan was currently repairing something so he couldn’t come out. So, you sat in the usual spot against the rock, singing songs written in honour of your parents and of the events. They were played every year and were joined in a planet wide celebration. People from around the planet were allowed into the castle’s entrance yard and in the surrounding city for the whole thing.

It was a beautiful demonstration of unity. What went wrong?

“Y/N?”

You jumped as you didn’t notice that Obi-Wan was standing right beside you. You were so swept up in your memories along with humming the songs that you were unaware that he had joined you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright.”

For a moment, the two of you were silent. Obi-Wan stayed standing and looked up at the same patch of stars that you were currently studying.

“What song was that?” His question took you slightly by surprise. Embarrassment filled you as well as you had never sung in front of, well, anyone. Maybe in front of your family and Kenth, but no one else.

“It’s one of the many songs played to celebrate this day. To celebrate my parents. This particular one was for them to dance to. A waltz of sorts.”

You went silent as you remembered watching your parents dance to this. It was a tradition that they would dance to this alone. No one else joined in. It was just the two of them and sometimes you and Davin would join. Only really when you were very young though. That’s when you had an idea.

“Do you dance Obi-Wan?”

“Not often.”

“Would you like to?”

The two of you met the other’s gaze. His face softened as you looked at you and he couldn’t help but nod his head. “Only if you tell me about this celebration.”

At that, you smiled largely. Obi-Wan offered you his hand and helped you stand. He easily brought you to his chest and placed a hand on your waist. You rested your hand on his shoulder and couldn’t help but trace little patterns.

“I didn’t know Jedi could dance,” you said jokingly.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “Well, we do have to mingle during social events often enough.”

“Fair point,” you chuckled.

Then, the two of you started to dance, Obi-Wan leading you to a rhythm only he knew. Like promised, you told him about the celebrations that were always held. You told him how the whole week was a holiday and how it was a festival of sorts. The whole time, you described everything from the food to the decorations. You even told some stories about how you forced Captain Baize to dance with you.

Forcing Kenth to dance wasn’t the only thing you would drag him into, though. There were games, puppet shows, and so many people who came with beautifully decorated pots, clothing, tapestries, and so, so many sweets and deserts. Since you always needed a guard, you dragged Captain Baize everywhere. Sure, he did enjoy coming with you, but he was always hesitant to start. In the end, he knew that you wouldn’t take no as an answer and that he also really wanted to see what was brought in.

As you regaled Obi-Wan with every detail, his smile never dropped and he never broke eye contact with you. He was enjoying how bright you were while recalling these memories. Seeing you like this, he committed the moment to memory. Your smile made you even more beautiful than you already were.

A snap in the distance took his attention from you. You also looked in the direction it came from. Obi-Wan separated from you and guided you behind him. His hand moved to hover over his lightsaber.

“Obi?” you whispered.

“It’s not Qui-Gon. If something goes wrong, be prepared to run.”

For many offputting, silent moments, Obi-Wan was on high alert. Occasionally he would shift you around to a position to better protect you as he sensed the movement of a being. He tried to search for more. Dread filled him as there were two more that he sensed.

Before anything could happen, Obi-Wan sent a message to Qui-Gon through the force. It wasn’t of words, but it conveyed the danger that was rapidly approaching.

“Well, well, well,” said one of the bounty hunters as he emerged from the brush. “Come on out boys. It’s only the padawan.”

You heard the others laugh maniacally as they all followed into the clearing. Immediately, you recognized them all. They were the men who had been after you all those months ago when you first met the Jedi. Their leader was Zacrick Moorlin.

Obi-Wan instinctually guided you further behind you so that his full body blocked you. If it were the last thing he did, he was going to make sure that they wouldn’t get to you. He consciously used the ship’s ramp as protection as well as he could. He wasn’t taking the chance of someone sneaking up from behind.

“Look at how protective he is. Is she really that important?”

“She’s more important than you think,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Oh you won’t? Oh we’re so sorry. We’ll just pack up and leave then,” Zacrick replied scornfully. “No. We’re leaving with her dead or alive.”

You saw as Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense at the remark. Carefully, you placed a hand on his back to try and calm him. If anything were to happen, being that tense would not allow him to properly fend them off.

Your gesture worked. You could feel as he loosened and even became more attentive.

“Now, padawan, I would suggest stepping aside before we force you to.”

“That’s not happening as long as I’m alive.”

“Then we’ll change that.”

Zacrick made a gesture and the other bounty hunters pulled out their blasters, Obi-Wan igniting his saber, and they started firing shots that were easily deflected. The shots didn’t last long, but it was long enough for Obi-Wan to not notice that Zacrick had disappeared.

Before Obi-Wan could search for his energy, the other two began firing again.

“Y/N, ru-” he was cut off as he turned to see that Zacrick had you, an arm around your neck.

There was a knife in the bounty hunter’s other hand and fear pulsed through Obi-Wan. That knife was too close to your stomach.

“Let her go,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Obi, it’s okay,” you said, your breath being squeezed out of you as the arm around your neck tightened.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let his face soften when he looked at you. He wanted to comfort you as much as you were trying to comfort him. Zacrick looked between the two of you and was hit with a realization.

“Oh, so the two of you care for each other, do you? Isn’t this perfect.”

Panic rose in Obi-Wan’s heart as the knife was brought up to your arm and was placed just under the sleeve of your short sleeved shirt.

“In that case, you get to watch.”

The whimper you made as the knife dug into your arm sent a pang of pain through him. He was about to do something until he felt an electric pulse shoot through his body.

“Like he said,” one of the other bounty hunters said, “you’re going to watch.”

His head was forced up by his hair and he had no choice but to watch as your blood began to spill around the knife. He saw as Zacrick tightened his arm around your neck, cutting off all air.

Moments later, your eyelids fluttered closed. Once you lost consciousness, the bounty hunter carelessly let you fall to the ground in a heap.

Obi-Wan didn’t care, he was going to get to you. Surprisingly, they let him go to your unconscious form. He took you in his arms and immediately examined the cut on your arm after checking your pulse. Relief flooded him as the cut wasn’t too deep and your pulse was still even. The relief only lasted a second as anger overtook him. They could’ve killed you. They could have cost you your arm.

After placing a brief kiss to your forehead, he carefully laid you to the ground before standing. His breaths became quickened as only anger filled him. How dare they do this? How could they be so careless? Why did they force him to watch?

As he turned towards the three bounty hunters, fear filled their eyes. Suddenly, he used the force and lifted Zacrick in the air as he crushed his windpipes. It felt amazing. The force seemed to have a new electric flow through him. It rippled in him and made him feel stronger.

“Obi-Wan!”

The voice startled him. Qui-Gon was running out of the forest but stopped a few feet away from his padawan.

“Control your feelings, padawan. Let him go,” Qui-Gon said sternly.

That’s when Obi-Wan snapped back to reality. What was he doing? Revenge was never something he should’ve acted on. No matter what this man had done, this was not the course of action. The worst part was that he liked it until Qui-Gon snapped him from it.

As the bounty hunter was let down to the ground, all three of them quickly ran. If that was how only one would act, they didn’t want to see what both of them could do together.

Obi-Wan was breathing heavily, almost as if he were choking himself and not the bounty hunter.

“I- I don’t know…”

“We’ll discuss it later. For now let’s make sure the princess is alright.”

Obi-Wan nodded, he was almost distraught. The thought of making sure you were still alright brought him out of it.

This was not going to be an easy conversation.

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

#obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan star wars #padawan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #qui gon/obi wan #qui gon jinn #Please Don't Go #obi wan angst

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dfroza · 3 months

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for january 30 of 2024 with Proverbs 30 and Psalm 30, accompanied by Psalm 41 for the 41st day of Astronomical Winter (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 30]

These are the words of Agur, son of Jakeh. An oracle of wisdom.

He says, “I am weary, God.

I am weary and spent, O God.”

Certainly I am a stupid man, as dumb as an ox.

I don’t understand the way that most people do.

I have never learned wisdom,

and I have no knowledge at all of the Holy One.

Who has ascended into the heavens and then come back down?

Who has collected the winds in the palm of His hand?

Who has wrapped up the vast oceans in His coat?

Who has plotted the ends of the earth and then fashioned them?

What is His name?

What is His son’s name?

Do you know? Indeed, you do.

Every word of God will be put to the test and proven true;

He is a defense for those who trust in Him.

Take care. Add nothing to what He has said;

for if you do, He will correct you and expose you as a liar.

Two things I ask, O God.

Sometime before I die, grant these humble requests:

Eliminate any hint of worthless and deceitful words from my lips.

Do not make me poor or rich,

but give me each day what I need;

For if I have too much, I might forget You are the One who provides,

saying, “Who is the Eternal One?”

Or if I do not have enough, I might become hungry and turn to stealing

and thus dishonor the good name of my God.

Never run down a servant to his master

because the slave might curse you and you would suffer as a result.

There is a kind of person who curses his father

and pronounces no blessing upon his mother;

A kind of person who is without fault in his own estimation

but has not been scrubbed clean of his own sordidness;

A kind whose look is too haughty,

whose eyebrows arch as he looks down on others;

A kind whose very teeth cut like swords

and whose jaws sever like knives,

All the better to consume the poor of the earth

and the oppressed among men.

The leech has twin suckers;

“More blood! More blood,” they demand.

Three other things are just as insatiable,

no, make it four that never say, “Enough”:

The grave, the childless woman who cannot bear,

the parched earth that cries for rain,

and the fire, which never says, “Enough!”

One who derides his father

and fails to honor his mother in old age

Will die in contempt: his eyes will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley

and eaten by the young vultures when his unburied body lies on the trash heap.

There are three mysteries I find absolutely amazing,

no, make it four I cannot comprehend:

The way an eagle flies through the sky,

the way a snake moves over a rock,

The way a boat glides through the middle of the sea,

and the way a man becomes one with his virgin wife.

An adulterous woman is so cavalier by nature.

When she’s done, it is as if she washed after eating

and then says, “I have done nothing wrong.”

Three situations disturb the earth,

no, make it four that it cannot endure:

When a slave is elevated to king,

when a fool is full of fine food,

When a hated woman finally marries,

and when a serving girl takes possession of her mistress’s wealth.

There are four creatures on earth that are small,

but they are very wise and we can learn from them:

While ants are hardly a strong species,

they work constantly to store up food during the summer;

While badgers are animals without many defenses,

they are wise enough to make their homes in the rocky cliffs;

While locusts live without a ruler,

they all know how to move in formation;

While a lizard is easy enough to catch in your hand,

it is shrewd enough to enter the palaces of kings.

There are three creatures with majesty in their stride,

no, make it four that move with grace:

The lion, which is the strongest of the animals,

does not back down from any other creature;

The strutting rooster, the male goat,

and a king as he goes out with his army.

If you have been foolish enough to insinuate yourself in some high position

or if you have concocted some sort of evil plan,

clamp your hand tightly over your mouth;

For pressing down milk makes butter,

pressing your nose makes it bleed,

and pressing anger makes trouble.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 30 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

•

[Psalm 30]

A song of David. For the dedication of the temple.

I praise You, Eternal One. You lifted me out of that deep, dark pit

and denied my opponents the pleasure of rubbing in their success.

Eternal One, my True God, I cried out to You for help;

You mended the shattered pieces of my life.

You lifted me from the grave with a mighty hand,

gave me another chance,

and saved me from joining those in that dreadful pit.

Sing, all you who remain faithful!

Pour out your hearts to the Eternal with praise and melodies;

let grateful music fill the air and bless His name.

His wrath, you see, is fleeting,

but His grace lasts a lifetime.

The deepest pains may linger through the night,

but joy greets the soul with the smile of morning.

When things were quiet and life was easy, I said in arrogance,

“Nothing can shake me.”

By Your grace, Eternal,

I thought I was as strong as a mountain;

But when You left my side and hid away,

I crumbled in fear.

O Eternal One, I called out to You;

I pleaded for Your compassion and forgiveness:

“I’m no good to You dead! What benefits come from my rotting corpse?

My body in the grave will not praise You.

No songs will rise up from the dust of my bones.

From dust comes no proclamation of Your faithfulness.

Hear me, Eternal Lord—please help me,

Eternal One—be merciful!”

You did it: You turned my deepest pains into joyful dancing;

You stripped off my dark clothing

and covered me with joyful light.

You have restored my honor. My heart is ready to explode, erupt in new songs!

It’s impossible to keep quiet!

Eternal One, my God, my Life-Giver, I will thank You forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 30 (The Voice)

[Psalm 41]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

Blessed are those who consider the helpless.

The Eternal will stay near them, leading them to safety in times of bitter struggle.

The Eternal defends them and preserves them,

and His blessing will find them in the land He gave them.

He moves ahead to frustrate their enemies’ plans.

When sickness comes, the Eternal is beside them—

to comfort them on their sickbeds and restore them to health.

And me? I cry out to Him,

“Heal my soul, O Eternal One, and show mercy

because I have sinned against You!”

My enemies are talking about me even now:

“When will death come for him and his name be forgotten?”

As they sit with me under my roof, their well wishes are empty lies.

They listen to my story

and then turn it around to tell their own version on the street.

Across the city, crowds whisper lies about me.

Their hate is strong, and they search for ways to harm me.

Some are saying: “Some vile disease has gotten hold of him.

The bed he lies in will be his deathbed.”

Even my best friend, my confidant

who has eaten my bread will stab me in the back.

But You, Eternal One, show mercy to me.

Extend Your gracious hand, and help me up.

I need to pay them back for what they’ve done to me.

I realize now that Your favor has come to me,

for my enemies have yet to declare victory over me.

You know and uphold me—a man of honor.

You grant me strength and life forever in Your presence.

Blessed is the Eternal, the True God of Israel.

Always and Eternal. Amen and Amen.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 41 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

The first four books of Psalms end with a variation of the doxology found in verse 13: “Blessed is the Eternal, the True God of Israel. Always and Eternal. Amen and Amen.” This declaration not only provides a natural break—a seam—between the five books, but it also summarizes an essential theme of the psalms. You see, the Book of Psalms is primarily a book of praise to God for His creation, mercy, and salvation. Even when life is hard, our enemies strong, and our health poor, God can be praised for life itself and the ultimate victory to come for those who trust Him.

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illyaana · 3 years

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Homebound to you - Sasha Blaus

I can't find the artist on Tumblr (again (＞人＜；)) but this is the twitter post!

Synopsis: You are childhood friends with Sasha. This part is on how you grew up with Sasha and how she told you how she's joining the Training Corps. (if I tell anymore, it isn't a synopsis welp-)

Tags: Sasha x Binaural Reader, Fluff, SFW

Word Count: 2226

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The lush meadows of Dauper Village - the place both you called home.

It wasn’t one that you’d see written in the papers about its beauty. It was a hidden gem known by those who were willing to venture out and seek it. The forest welcomed you - the sounds of the woodland creatures and the wind against the bushes reminded you of life when you believed the world was much more peaceful than it was. The scene of an ocean blue stream of water surrounded by small animals was vivid in your memories.

“You don’t want to join me? It isn’t that dirty, trust me,” a 6-year-old Sasha said, gripping tightly onto the ends of your shirt.

Sasha Braus - the girl you’ve known ever since you were a kid.

No one could imagine the daughter of a hunter being friends - close friends - with the child of a scholar, but you both proved them wrong.

Sasha was your first ever friend. She was the one who made the introverted you more social with others.

She was the first person you truly cared for - nothing could’ve changed that.

Sasha played along a stream of water right beside the willow tree you both found the first time you ventured into the forest. She’d jump feet first into the stream, diverting the flow of water into multiple small streams before converging in the front of her feet. She loved seeing the small fishes play with each other as if they were racing to meet a bigger water source.

She’d beg you to join her in the small game - but you never did.

You wanted to steal every single moment with her in your eyes - to let it sink into the deepest parts of your brain.

“I’d rather stay dry, Sasha. My mom would kill me if I go back home with my clothes all wet,” your younger self said, trying to reason with her.

Sasha’s face immediately paled the minute you finished that sentence. She looked to her now soaked trousers. A ring of dried mud formed on the top half of her trousers decorated with dried leaves and vines.

“Why didn’t you warn me earlier?” she said, anger stricken on her face, “Mama is going to kill me now. I didn’t expect it to be this dirty.”

You chuckle at the red-faced girl in front of you.

This girl was meant for greatness - no one could deny that.

The adventurous side of hers could never be tamed.

It was wild and relentless - and you loved it to bits.

“You’re wearing shorts underneath, right?”

She nodded.

You sighed.

“Take off the trousers. I’ll wash them as best as I can and you sling it on your shoulder so that it can dry. That’s the best I can offer,” you told her.

In an instant, she ran to the bushes, took off her trousers and tossed them to you.

“You’re only 6-years old - how can you think like an adult at such a young age?” she said, an inquisitive look painted on her face.

“I grew up surrounding playful 6-year-olds, that’s why,” you said, teasing her, “I basically became their mom - looking after them, making sure they behaved well in public - I did it all.”

As time passed, Sasha became more than just a friend you used to look after.

You both became each others’ rocks - the very thing that kept each other from falling.

Sasha learnt how to hunt - to survive in the harsher world of the forest.

You learnt knowledge - to create and to move the world with a pen and paper.

You never saw Sasha hunt but you’ve pictured it billions of times.

You pictured her hazel-colored hair dancing in the air as she rode her horse. Her golden-brown eyes would focus solely on her target - they would force her victim to shudder and slow down, to become hers. Her muscles would flex under her thin shirt as he pulled the arrow in her hands against the bow - the tip fixed exactly at the weak point of her target. Then, with one swift release, her victim would fall and a rush of happiness would surge within her.

You could only draw it and picture it in your head, but how you wished to see her in action.

She’d always bring a huge portion of the meat she gained for your family. She’d say she caught more than she expected, but you could hear the rumbles from her parents.

Eventually, your families decided to move into one house to reduce the problems faced by the Braus family.

Your family would provide the income - the money to buy resources. The Braus family would help in gaining food and rationing out how much from the resources to use.

Even though your parents hated the idea of moving in with hunters, you were ecstatic.

You imagined a life with Sasha, and you were going to get a glimpse of it.

Every night, she’d come into your room with a cup of tea and talk about her hunt. You, on the other hand, would talk about what you’ve learnt for the day. Even though she never understood what you spoke on, she’d try her best to listen and even ask questions when she didn’t understand.

You taught Sasha how to use a quill while she taught you the wonders of the wild.

Sasha entered your room in the middle of the night. She had her blanket wrapped around her as she held two mugs of tea.

She saw how you continued to study throughout the night. You’d use an oil lamp as a light source as you crammed for all the future tests and exams you were going to face.

She hated the sight of you slowly losing energy. The eyebags under your eyes intensified each day. You didn’t smile as much as you used to. You lost the energy you had when you were younger.

Yet Sasha managed to keep hers, just like you wanted.

“Tea break?” she suggested, pushing a mug into your hands, “I caught a deer today! Tomorrow, you’re eating venison - get ready!”

You shook your head in denial as you placed the mug on the table.

“I swear, Y/N,” she started, agitation clear in your voice, “I will burn all your books if you don’t stop and drink tea with me right now.”

You knew Sasha’s threatens were to be taken seriously. She seriously once burned an essay you needed to hand in the next day.

You immediately closed your book and placed the hot cup of Chamomile tea in your hands. The mug itself gave you warmth, making you sigh in content.

Sasha hopped on your bed, dropping the blanket to her sides. She closed her eyes as she brought the cup of hot tea to her nose, taking it in.

You swear that she almost looked like an angel at that moment.

Her soft locks now reached her shoulders - messy and tousled. The pale moonlight against her skin highlighted her features. The gold flecks in her eyes against the hazel shined - it even showed against the steam wafting from the cup. The scar on her left shoulder from one of her hunts showed through the almost see-through shirt, showing how strong she was as a warrior.

You smiled, leaning against your chair while taking in the beauty in front of you.

“Y/N?” Sasha called.

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

“I should be free by this Friday, my exams end then.”

“Oh...” she said, trailing off.

You walk to sit beside her and place your head on your shoulder. You felt her relax as he placed her head on top of yours.

“Is everything good?”

She begins rubbing her head against yours.

“I’m good. I’m just worried about the future, that’s all.”

“The world must be ending,” you joke, “You’re actually thinking ahead.”

Sasha flicked your forehead, “Stupid - of course, I need to!”

A silence formed between the two of you as you both stared at the sky from your windows. It was pitch black. Stars twinkled against the black canvas, dancing to a song only they knew. The clouds tried their best to hide the beauty of the night, but their efforts were in vain.

“I’m thinking of joining the Training Corps,” Sasha said, cutting the silence.

Your face paled.

“What?” you froze.

“I hate hiding in fear, Y/N. I hate the fact we stay hiding away from the thing that threatens our lives. We should be killing it rather than just killing animals for meat,” she said with a serious voice.

You put both of your finished mugs on the floor and grab Sasha’s hands, forcing her to face you.

“Sasha, you might die. You might never see your parents again, you might lose everything,” tears form in your eyes, “I can’t lose you, Sasha - not now, not ever.”

She smiles while wiping the formed tears in your eyes.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll die the minute I see Titans,” she says.

She pulls you out of the bed, dusting off her shirt.

“We’re going out for a while. Get ready for an adventure after so many years, Y/N L/N.”

You both snuck out of the house and got on her horse. With one nudge from her, you both rode off into the forest. Through the dark greens emerged fireflies that lit the view before you. You spotted the eventful stream, the sleeping woodland creatures and the plants that reminded you of your childhood.

You turned to face the back of Sasha, and you were in awe.

She looked exactly like how you pictured her to look.

Her dancing hair, her flowing skirt, her smile - everything - it was what you imagined.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling yourself closer to you. You pressed your head against her back, earning a chuckle from the horse rider.

“You better come home to me, Sasha Braus. I will never forgive you if you don’t.”

“As if I won’t.”

She signaled the horse to stop at the willow tree you used to spend most of your childhood days at.

She gets off the horse and runs to the tree. Her fingers slowly graze the tree, reminiscing all the memories you both have made right here.

“You know,” she started, “I used to stare at you reading those books of yours under this tree. The wind would blow softly for you when you perched yourself under the tree, but the vines of leaves at its branches would move so much. It was as if they were dancing for you. Even if I brought a drink or a snack, you’d just give me your portion and continue to read those books, but when I wanted you to talk to me, you’d instantly put the book down and give all your attention to me.”

“Well,” you say, “I’d always look up once in a while and see you play with the animals in that little bush there,” you point at the bush covered by fireflies, “I’d see you try picking up squirrels and capture butterflies wondering what goes on in your head.”

You get off the horse and walk towards Sasha.

“I’ll miss this the most when I leave, I think. This small haven we made from trees will always be my first home.”

You hug Sasha from behind, gripping onto her loose shirt.

“It’s happening, isn’t it? I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” you say, sniffles stopping you from speaking clearly.

She shook her head and you sigh, feeling defeated.

“Y/N, pass those exams and get into the Royal Capital. I will enter the Military Police and I’ll meet you within Wall Sheena.”

“I’ll try to get everyone to move. Then, we all will be together again,” you say, building your resolve.

Sasha turns to face you. The minute she sees you, she begins to laugh hysterically.

“You look like a lost puppy,” she says as she touches your cheek, “I’ll miss you, Y/N.”

You press your foreheads against each other. You both instinctively close your eyes, enjoying the small moment you two were sharing.

You couldn’t imagine how your life was going to be without the bubbly presence only Sasha could give. To think there would be no more random rendezvous, no more jokes and no more stories from the girl in front of you made you feel the pain you didn’t want anyone to feel.

But you knew that Sasha had aspirations and dreams - you were in no place to stop her, even if her life was on the line.

The only thing you could do was to cherish this little moment with her before years without her begin.

Soon, a swarm of fireflies surrounded the two of you, giving you a clear view of the woman before you. The bright, flickering lights enhanced the raw beauty only Sasha exemplified. Her eyes stared into yours, begging you to say something.

It was only fair to do this now. If it didn’t happen now, you don’t know when you’ll have the chance again.

“I love you, Sasha Braus. Ever since I was kids I-”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Your lips met under a firefly-lit forest under the willow tree in your safe haven.

Wanna request something or just wanna talk? Go ahead and send me an ask here! If you want to send a request, please check my guidelines to see what I am comfortable with. Thanks for reading <3

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