#finding fulfillment for myself or meeting anyones expectations for me ever or ever being a good person

[strawbebyjam]

if discord sends notifs when you leave groups or close dms. well i dont need or want to know that. thank u

[sadnymi]

"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Until They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [chapter 5]

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Note : this chapter can be read as a standalone

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating, angst, death, sexual harassment ( not the main characters)

Please understand that this chapter will delve into darker themes. I urge you to pay close attention to the trigger warnings provided.

words: 3,971

Reading Time : 14mins 26sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream, weaving its tendrils into the very essence of my being.

In the labyrinth of our minds, there exists a chamber where memories are stored,

guarded by a sentinel of the soul. This guardian, born of instinct and necessity, shields us from the piercing arrows of past pain.

It enshrouds our recollections in a veil of forgetfulness, concealing them from our conscious sight.

Yet beyond this protective veil lies a deeper truth—a truth of scars left untended, wounds left unhealed.

Shielding us from the torment of certain memories, like the haunting recollection of my own death .

My name is y/n Celestia daughter of Seraphina Celestia and Leopold Celestia

"My Dark Lord," my stepfather bowed reverently, and I followed suit, mimicking the formal gesture. "Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Seraphina Celestia, and my stepdaughter, Y/N Celestia." I lowered my head in acknowledgment, following the protocol instilled by my mother.

I was only eight when I first saw him, the young boy standing next to the dark lord with so much pride , observing us with an inscrutable gaze.

"Daughter of Leopold Celestia," our lord addressed me, rising from his seat and approaching us. "The heir of the Celestia family."

"I promise to protect her until she comprehends her role, my lord," my stepfather pledged, his voice resolute as he affirmed his duty to safeguard me until I reached maturity.

And that's when I realized my cue to depart had arrived. Mother's words echoed in my mind, admonishing me never to bring shame upon our family. I was to comport myself as befitting a princess, fulfilling the expectations laid upon me. I had made a solemn vow to Mother—to be obedient and dutiful in all things.

As I lingered in the adjacent chamber, awaiting their return, he appeared and settled beside me. "He's not your father?" he inquired gently.

"No, my father died before I was born " I responded matter-of-factly, devoid of the sting of grief or the weight of sorrow. "Mother deemed him a coward, claiming his demise stemmed from weakness and his inability to protect us."

He regarded me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity, giving me more attention than anyone ever did "And she believes your stepfather to be an improvement? That he is stronger and will safeguard You ?"

"I am bound to obey her," I murmured softly, casting a cautious glance over my shoulder to ensure our conversation remained private.

"So, do you like her ?" he probed, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Mother insists that in this world, emotions must be set aside," I replied, my tone tinged with resignation.

"She’s so annoying ," he remarked, prompting a rare burst of laughter from my lips. "What's so amusing?"

"I find her annoying , too," I confessed, still scanning our surroundings for any prying ears.

"And what of you? Do you hold affection for your mother?" I ventured, seeking to reciprocate his candor.

"I hardly know anything about her," he admitted

"I'm sorry," I offered sympathetically.

"Don't be," he replied with a shrug. "I doubt I'm missing much."

His response elicited another smile from me, a glimmer of camaraderie shared amidst the confines of our respective familial burdens.

"What about your father?" I inquired.

"We're good,"

"Do you obey him?"

"It's more of an understanding between us," he explained.

"Has he... has he ever hurt you?" I whispered softly, afraid of my own voice reaching the wrong ears and causing trouble.

"Of course not. Does yours?" he asked with genuine concern.

"When I do something wrong," I admitted, looking away. His hands found mine, and as our eyes met, I noticed the red bruise from yesterday. Panic set in, but his reassuring grip eased my anxiety. "He's the one who did this,? " I nodded hesitantly , then he squeezed my hand comfortingly.

"Don't be afraid, Y/N."

Come on, Y/N, we need to hurry if want to see where the hat will place the newcomers," Sarah's voice echoed from outside my dorm. I pulled away from the kiss with Mattheo, trying to compose myself.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," I replied,giving him a warming glance to not make any sound and trying to sound normal as much as I can

"You need to go, Mattheo, right now," I whispered urgently, breaking away from him once more.

He leaned in to give me one final kiss before responding, "Tell her to fuck off." His playful tone didn't match the seriousness in his eyes.

"Don't be so rude," I chided, cupping my face he smiled softly “ I will need to have a word with Lorenzo about how a cock blocker his girlfriend is “ I blushed and smiled shyly at him I was still a virgin we were seventeen but the topic still made me nervous Sarah said she did it with Lorenzo penny did too they said it’s wasn’t even that painful and after the first time it’s only about the pleasure , Mattheo never pushed me, giving me the time I needed.

"Y/N, I swear to God," Sarah's voice grew impatient, and I called back that I was coming. Grappling my scarf, I hurriedly put it on, realizing I had no time for makeup to conceal the red marks left by the boy smirking at my struggle.

But then it happened—I forgot to hide my sleeves. Panic gripped me as I noticed that where his eyes were on, Mattheo touched my hands softly, his expression turning from anger to hurt.

"You said he had stopped," he said, with me trying to hide my hands again Tears welled up at the sight of the pain in his voice.

"Mattheo, please," I whispered, shaking my head. "He didn't mean to, I—"

"I'm going to fucking kill him "

"I want one," I whispered, my head still resting on his chest."Why can't I have one right now?"

"Someday, baby," he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"Why not now? Because I'm useless to the Dark Lord? Sarah joined the Death Eaters, Penny is going to..." My voice trailed off, frustration tainting my words.

"You are not useless," he said firmly, sitting up straight and meeting my gaze with seriousness. "Someday, I will let you rule this whole thing."

A smile spread across my face at his words. "You're so sweet."

"Oh, Lord, don't call me sweet in front of anyone, or I will have to kill them," he teased, eliciting a laugh from me.

"You know, I'm starting to get offended by you always wearing red," he remarked after a moments of silence .

"It's just a color, baby," I replied, trying to brush it off . But deep down, I knew it was more than just a color. Some wounds take longer to heal than others, and some keep on bleeding long after. Wearing red was my way of concealing the scars, a reminder of the battles I've fought and the pain I've endured.

cuddling within his embrace, I savored the peaceful moment, surrendering myself to the security of his arms enveloping me.

I tilted my head, resting my chin upon his chest, allowing myself the luxury of studying his striking countenance. Every contour, every scar, every nuance of his face captivated my attention, as I immersed myself fully in the sight of his handsome features

“ matt ? “

“ yes love ? “

“I'd love you until my last breath”

At my mother's funeral, I stand as a solitary figure, ensnared by a profound numbness that eclipses the mournful symphony of raindrops around me. The gray clouds and cascading rain envelop me in an abyss of numbing sorrow, the sting of her disdain piercing through me despite her cruelty.

*I feel utterly alone, adrift in an ocean of pain and loss, burdened by the weight of a secret I dare not share with anyone.*

The truth about my father's death, recalling the last conversation I had with my mother. I shake my head, taking hesitant steps back, hoping no one notices my absence at her funeral.

Then, I run. Far away from the somber voices and vacant stares, seeking solace beneath the shelter of a tree, I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

"Y/N," a voice interrupts my solitude, and I startle at the sight of him standing before me.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here," I exclaim, my voice trembling with fear as I scan the area, ensuring no one else is nearby.

"Calm down, it's okay," he reassures me, brushing away my tears with a gentle touch. "I would kill anyone who dares to interrupt and puts that terrified look on your face."

I know he means it, and that's precisely what terrifies me.

"Please, Matt," “ you know how dangerous it is , if anyone saw you with you “

we do know, as the heir of Slytherin he cannot have a weakness no one should know about our relationship people in our world will use it against him taking advantage of the situation , my voice barely above a whisper. With one hand, he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"It's okay," he murmurs into my hair, placing soft kisses there.

“ y/n ? “

“ yes matt “

"I know you're hiding something."

"I will talk to my father,I will ask him for permission to kill him."

"He's a loyal soldier to your father; he won't just allow it," I shook my head, standing up and making my way toward him.

"I hate the thought of you with him in the same house."

"He stopped hitting me, I promise," I tried to avoid his gaze. He knew me so well, even without speaking. He could feel my pain as much as I could feel his. Our souls had a language of their own, and he would catch my lies.

"Then I would just do it."

"No, no, stop it, mate, please."

Walking back and forth, his hands tangled in his hair, I approached him, attempting to calm him down. I reached out for his hands, hoping them with mine

"Then marry me," I took a step back, trying to understand his words.

"What?"

"Marry me. We are old enough now. Marry me, and I will tell my father I will do it your way. I will let him plan a wedding. I will—"

"I can't let you do it. They will ruin you. Those people will do anything to take your place. Even if that’s mean using me to get to you, No, God, I don't even trust your father enough. "

"Stop thinking about anyone else for a goddamn minute," he walked away, yelling angrily. "Stop caring about anyone else. I'm tired of holding back; I feel like you're tying my hands."

"So what? Let you go and hit my stepfather to death like last time? And then stand there trying to explain why you did it, blaming it on a misunderstanding. You know what happened last time."

“"No, I don't," he replied, his gaze piercing with anger. I despised the fact that we are fighting

"Please, I don't want to fight," I sighed, closing my eyes. I hoped that whatever was wrong between us would dissipate when I opened them again.

"And I'm tired of you always running instead of facing the situation. This weakness you've convinced yourself of is just an illusion, cause deep down you can’t move on from being

the little girl who was afraid to disobey him," he retorted with frustration.

"That's it, the tears I was holding, I couldn't contain them anymore. I pushed him away from me, crying heavily.

"Baby, I didn't—" he realized his own words, attempting to hold me. I pulled away, screaming, "Don't you dare fucking touch me," trying to reach the door.

Just as I was about to pass his tall frame, Mattheo moved his arm quickly to block my way. He didn't touch me, only reaching for the wall to stop me from leaving . I flinched, and squeezed my eyes shut while raising my arms in front of my face. My body expected a hit as my mind told me that I just made a fool out of myself.

Silence fell around us. Realizing what i just did , I was ashamed, and the hurt in his eyes made me sob heavily.

"Baby," he came closer, and I was shaking.

"I would never... never hurt you. Did you think I was going to?" Pain, a lot of pain, echoed in his voice and eyes, and it was all my fault.

"I'm so, so sorry. I know you would never. Please don't be hurt. I'm so sorry," saying while sobbing

"Stop apologizing, baby, please," he uttered softly, bridging the gap between us. His hand extended tentatively, wary of any residual fear.

"I would never hurt you, love " he reassured me. Our fingers intertwined, a subtle tug pulling me closer, and I wrapped my arms around him, letting the tears wet his t-shirt.

"I know. I'm so sorry," I repeated, taking a step to look into his eyes just for him to cup my face softly.

"I would burn any hand that ever thought about touching a strand of your hair. The thought of you being hurt makes me want to burn them all down. I would never hurt you, baby."

"I didn't know why I reacted like that. I'm so sorry. It's like my body has a reaction of its own," I confessed, and he kissed my forehead while wiping my tears away.

"No, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I shouldn't have scared you. Fucking hell, I'm so sorry, baby," he apologized, and I nodded, letting him kiss me softly, his lips moving cautiously with mine.

"We both were. I let what happened get to me, and I'm sorry. I think we need a break—" he tried to talk, but I shook my head.

Please, Matt, I hurt you. You hurt me I think we need some time to calm down ," I pleaded.

"You didn't hurt me," he insisted.

"I will see you at the beach house. He agreed to go this year as well. I will come to Sarah's once you arrive. We'll go earlier; he has an early business," I explained.

"Baby—" he began.

"It's okay, Matt ," I stepped back, going to the door, turned around one last time,

"I love you." He said it softly like a prayer with his eyes on mine , and my tears ran once more.

Once Sarah saw me, she got away from Lorenzo. "Are you okay?" I nodded, wiping my tears away. "Can you take me home?"

Being at the beach house this year without my mother was a new experience, the absence of her presence leaving the house darker, more sinister, as if it had taken on her essence. I tried to maintain a deliberate distance between myself and the monster I had to tolerate, struggling to divert my attention to the rhythmic sounds of the ocean and the invigorating breeze. I resisted the urge to reach out to Mattheo, to ask Sarah about him.

"What are you doing?" His voice cut through the air like a knife, and I hated the tremor that ran through my body.

"Just reading," I replied without turning around, feeling his hand on my shoulder in the most unsettling way. He had never touched me like that before, and I felt disgusted.

"Did you spread your legs for him, princess?" His words were like venom, and I recoiled, taking a step back.

"What?" I managed to utter, my heart racing with fear and confusion.

"Don't act so innocent. I know what's going on between you two. I wasn't sure until he almost killed me that night I hit that pretty face of yours. I did that on purpose, you know?" His smirk made my skin crawl, and I instinctively moved towards the door, trying not to alert him.

"You're sick," I shot back, my voice trembling as I attempted to make my way to the door without drawing attention.

"You know that time I brought those women to the house in front of your whore of a mother? I was thinking of you the whole time while fucking them," he taunted, his words like daggers piercing my soul. "Sometimes I think about him fucking you as well, my princess, my innocent girl."

I ran to the door, screaming, when he grabbed my hair so hard that tears sprang to my eyes immediately.

"Look at this skin, so soft, and that fucking body," he murmured, his grip tightening as I struggled against him trying to fight him as much as I could

"He will kill you. He will fucking kill you, and I will let him. I will stand here watching him burn you alive, and I will watch every single second of it." I shouted at him believing every single word of it

"Shut up, you stupid slut," he spat venomously, his words like acid burning through my soul.

"It's about time he arrived with Sarah. I will tell him. I will let him burn you alive, you fucking monster," he continued, pulling me even harder until I felt like he would tear me apart. He threw me onto the sofa, hitting me in the face before gripping it so tightly it felt like my bones would shatter.

"so bad we'll be already dead before that," he taunted, relishing in my fear and confusion. "Oh, how I love that look. It's almost the same as your father's before I put that dagger in his heart, and the same as your mother's before I choked her to death. Your stupid, stupid mother thought I needed power and you needed a father. It didn't take her long to agree, to hand you to me on a golden plate," he sneered, his words dripping with malice.

"He's going to kill you either way," I retorted defiantly, refusing to cry as I met his gaze with anger and frustration.

"Will he, princess ? Then you won't get rid of me because I'll search for you in death too," I threatened, my hand holding my hair clip With lightning speed, I lunged at him, aiming for his neck, and he screamed as it pierced his skin.

Seizing the opportunity, I scrambled to my feet and made a run for it, he caught me by my leg

and I kicked him as hard as I could, trying to break free. He locked the doors with a fucking spell , trapping me inside, and panic surged through me as I realized he must have planned it all along.

I pulled my phone and run straight to my room decided to get out through the window or the roof

Grabbing my phone and running straight to my room locking the door behind me “Alohomora” I said but nothing happened “Alohomora” I screamed it again but the window is still closed he must have put a spell to make sure I can’t use it trying to calm myself down I grabbing my phone, I dialed Mattheo's number, my voice trembling as I spoke.

"Mattheo, you were right," I confessed, my heart pounding with fear. "He should have died."

"I'm on my way," he assured me, his voice filled with urgency.

"I think it's too late—I just wanted to say it back," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes as I struggled to open the window. "I love you. I love you so, so much. From the first time I saw you, you were the most precious thing I ever had. I love you, and I will love you in every life I live. I love you. I don't want to die without saying it one last time."

"You're not going to fucking die baby I’m coming hold on for me okay? " he replied firmly, and i river of tears started to fall

I ended the call, tossing the phone aside, and focused on finding a way out, my heart filled with determination and love

Unlocking the room, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. With no sign of him, I moved carefully downstairs

“ princess come here , I promise I will forgive you for that small accident “

“ you can’t hide forever princess “

Close your eyes and breathe he can’t hurt you- if you can’t see him that’s mean he won’t be able to see you

“ comon , daddy hates waiting princess, he’s going to punish you when he finds you “ shut up - shut up - shut up

Then I hear it—the sound of his steps, each one drawing him nearer and nearer

“ he’s not coming you mean nothing to him you know? Why would the heir of the most powerful house care about someone insignificant, someone so worthless like you “

“ liar “ I screamed and then it was red all over again all I saw was red

I I brandished my wand and shouted, "Incendio!" The flames engulfed the house swiftly, consuming every inch of it in a fiery embrace.

"Stupid bitch," I muttered under my breath, knowing he couldn't use a spell on me directly. If he wanted my death to appear normal, he couldn't risk casting any spells on me. That's why he had put a spell on the house, making it impossible for me to utter the spell that could have been able to kill him

"Alohomora" he yelled, and all the doors unlocked. I sprinted towards the kitchen door, fleeing the inferno, blood from my nose and lips staining my trembling hands.

Glancing back, I saw no sign of him before finally escaping. However, just as I thought I was in the clear, a heavy pain and the choking sensation of my own blood overcame me. Falling to my knees, I noticed a knife protruding from my back, its blade emerging on the other side.

In agony, I screamed as I pulled the knife even deeper. "Thank you, princess," he uttered, kissing my forehead. "I'll tell them you died bravely, and I promise to take care of your inheritance."

He got up, and the cruel realization hit me that the last thing I might see before death was his sinister face. Collapsing to the ground, I screamed for the last time, my voice giving up. I felt the onset of death, a gradual release of my grip on my soul.

In those final moments, I thought of my friends, the things left unsaid, but most of all, I thought of Mattheo – my sweet Mattheo, the only love I had ever known. I wished to see his face one last time, contemplating all the things we never got the chance to do.

Suddenly, I felt hands on me, perhaps imagined, as he softly wiped away tears and blood from my face.

"I once said I'd love you until my last breath, didn't I?" I mustered a weak smile, extending my shaking hand to hold his on my face.

"You're not going to die," he insisted, and I prayed to see him clearly one more time.

"You're not going to die, love. I won't allow it. Keep those beautiful eyes on me, okay?"

I struggled to keep my eyes open, but darkness descended rapidly, making each breath a challenging task.

“ I’m so sorry “ kissing my forehead , my hands, and I never wanted to be alive as much as I do right now

"I'm going to fix it, love. I'm going to fix everything, I promise."

Clutching onto the sound of his voice, I felt everything fade into darkness.

Tag list :

@hereticdance

[growinguparo]

Hii! this is my first post here and i'm not sure about what to say, but i hope someone can help me. I'm really new to all of this, this world of aromanticism, it's like i found something that was missing. i just came to realize being aroace this year, so i'ts just a few months of knowing that i'm aromantic, but i'ts years of being aromantic and honestly, i couldn't say i'm not confused, but i really want some advice on how to.. accept myself. because, honestly, i reaally love romance movies and books, and i grew up thinking some day it would be me, but what if it isn't, what if it's not going to be me, like ever. how do i lead with that? how do accept the possibility to not fall in love like everybody else does, and meet someone to stay together for all life an get married. i know i don't want to get married, but this idea is internalized in my head, how to be happy without romance? without a partner to take care of me, to support me, to help me. maybe one day i'll wake up and realize that i've fallen in love and that i'm not going to be single forever and that i can be just like people expect me to be. but what if i don't? what if that day won't come and i'll be "Loveless". i really loved that book Loveless and i't just felt like maybe it wasn't that bad to be like this, i also watched Koisenu Futari and honestly, i never felt so part of something, like i've found the REAL happiness for me, not that one that people always talk about, saying that is the only happiness, to date, get married and have kids. i know most people feel fulfilled with this, but what if i don't? i'm not everybody else, i don't need to live based on people's expectations. if anyone reading this, feel something similar, please(if you like) share your experiences :) thank you for your attention

tbh my first impression here is that you've already figured out what i think is the most important part: the fact that what will (most likely) make you happy is different than what seems to make everyone else happy. and you being happy is the goal. you've figured out that you don't want that traditional romantic relationship, and that that's okay. that's awesome!

i also love that you were able to see yourself positively within Loveless and Koisenu Futari in a way that felt authentic to you. representation helps us imagine what our life could be like. if you can't see yourself in a traditional marriage, what can you see yourself doing? you could live a life like in Koisenu Futari. allow yourself to imagine a life you would be happy and authentic in. try to be free with it, not shooting down ideas because they're "unrealistic". (btw - this might be hard. there are nearly infinite varieties of romantic relationships that are spoonfed to us from birth. coming up with your own ideas is harder than being spoonfed, so don't get discouraged.)

if you haven't already i'd suggest reading about relationship anarchy. it's basically the idea that no one type of relationship is superior to another, and within your relationships you can do whatever you want forever, tailoring them to your needs and wants.

besides that, i think acceptance takes time. you're altering your view of yourself and your future and your place in the world. you've had your whole life to get used to one reality, one self-image, and now you're changing that. it takes time to get used to.

there are also some very real material concerns that come along with being aro. to name a few: navigating the world as a single person is harder legally and financially. western society is built on individualism and we are trained to only seek emotional support from a life partner, even though that is a blatantly unstable way of living even for allos. that can result in single people struggling to find continued support throughout their lives.

accepting being aro doesn't mean the hard parts go away, and ignoring them will not help. it's like accepting being gay - there are real material concerns that come along with being gay, but you can still love being yourself and love being gay. and you can fight to make the world a better place for people like you, if you want to.

followers, any advice?

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

Chapter 3 Kid x Reader x Killer- And then there were two

Chapter 3- Is that all this was

Content Warning: Angst, Hurt no comfort, there will eventually be comfort- you just ain't gonna find it here, Kid is a warning himself soooo

Chapter 1- Is that all this was?, Chapter 2

I am so sorry for how long this took me. I was recently in a car accident, and with college starting back up and my new job, I think my brain was pretty much melted. I'm hoping I'll be able to get back into a normal writing schedule, so fingers crossed. In the meantime- Enjoy the new Chapter!

A bright light streaming in from Kid’s cabin window found its mark on his face, bringing him out of his less than restful sleep. The man brings his arm over his face, not ready to go out and start his day, but it seems his movement and the sound of the bustling crew up above was enough to draw him even further away from sleep’s alluring grasp.

Groaning out a small string of expletives, the arm covering his face lowers and drags the hand down his face. Waking up alone made the whole ‘waking up' thing a lot harder than he remembered it being- he was much more used to slinging an arm over another body to stall or having one of two people gently rousing him. This morning’s experience just adds yet another drop of regret for Kid’s words from yesterday.

Regardless of his difficulty getting out of the bed, Kid forces himself to roll out of bed- quite literally- and gets dressed for the day. Now that he was a little more aware of his surroundings, the fact that enough of his crew was on deck to cause a bit of commotion gave him some pause. They have been at the safehouse for a couple of days now, so Kid is a little surprised more people aren’t on the shore celebrating being on land again. 

Going up the stairs to get to the main deck, Kid opens up the door only to bump into the last person who would want to see him at the moment. “Ah… Good morning, Captain. I take it you slept well since it’s well past noon, and this is the first anyone has seen of you today.” The tone was unfamiliar and- while not cold- it wasn’t exactly a warm greeting either.

“I actually slept like shit. Couldn’t get comfortable with all the room I’m not used to.” Kid grunts out with a hint of defensiveness, refusing to look away, no matter how much he wants to. Y/n’s shoulders tensed and they clenched their jaw.

“Well, not to worry, Captain. I’m sure you’ll be able to get someone to warm your bed soon enough. If you’re lucky, they won’t jump to any unsavory conclusions.” Never afraid to get to the point and be cutthroat about it- there’s a reason why Y/n fit in with the Kid Pirates so well. The sardonic smile loosely held on their face and biting tone would make just about anyone flinch, and though it was brief and minute, Kid was no exception.

“Y/n-”

“Now, if you’d be oh so kind to get out of my way, I have more duties to fulfill to do my part on this ship. After all, I haven’t proven myself to be worthy of this crew yet, right?” With that, they push past the broad-shouldered man and begin to make their way downstairs. Until, that is, a hand wraps around their bicep to stop them.

“Would you let me speak, Damnit?!”

“I think you said enough yesterday, Eustass.” Y/n’s tone was now frigid, leaving no room for argument. “Besides, you have your ever-important alliance meeting soon- you don’t have time to chat with the likes of me.” With that, they yank their arm from Kid’s grasp and stomps downstairs, waiting until they know he isn’t going to follow to let the tears they’ve been fighting to finally glide down their face.

Kid, not expecting to have this kind of conversation with Y/n this soon, heaves out a sigh before steeling himself and walking out on deck. The crew appeared to be hard at work, cleaning the deck and making sure any valuables were being stocked away to be put under deck. Wire passes by his captain but stops once he sees the confused look on Kid’s face.

“Y/n thought it would be a good idea to clean up for our… guests. They’ve been a bit on edge- probably just nervous about the meeting with Apoo and Hawkins.” Once he finishes filling Kid in, Wire goes back to helping the rest of the crew out. 

There are still a few more hours before the meeting was to begin, so Kid decided to help with a couple of boxes before going into the safe house to work on his side of the negotiations. Killer had helped him set up the parameters of the agreement, to start him off but has most likely left him to his devices after yesterday’s events. The massacre killer would most likely come around to notify him of the incoming ships and will probably stay throughout the meeting to ensure no bloodshed erupts from Kid’s less-than-appealing temper.

This alliance has to go well. 

*      *       *      *      *      *      *

“I can’t do it, Kil.” Y/n sighs, their head resting on his chest and arms wrapped loosely around his waist. “Everytime I look at him I feel like I’m going to implode. I’m so angry, but I love him and want to forgive him, but he hasn’t even said sorry. One second I want to punch him, the next I want to cry and have him comfort me… What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re hurting.” Killer’s left hand is placed atop their head, his right is wrapped around the back of their shoulders, keeping them close.

“You were dragged into this, and I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to pick sides between your par- whatever we all are.” Y/n cutting themself off from calling them lovers cut both of them. And despite having no more tears to shed, they hiccup- grieving the relationship that apparently never existed in the first place.

“Look at me-” Killer, holds their chin to bring their eyes to meet his mask, “I love you. You are my partner. And no matter what he says, Kid does too- his head is just too far up his own ass.”

It wasn’t the first time Killer had said he loved them, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and every time made Y/n smile.

“I love you too, Killer,” They took his mask-clad head in their hands and brought it down to place a kiss on his forehead, and then resting their own against his. “But I can’t stay. Not right now.”

Killer stiffened and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know quite yet. I just need time and space away from him.”

Killer doesn’t respond. While he understands their need to go, he can’t help but to worry about their safety- this is the New World, not the South Blue. His hold tightens around Y/n, knowing this could be the last time he gets to do this for a while. “I get it. But please, be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me- I’ll be totally fine. Look, if his plans stay the same, you all should pass by Wano within the next month- and no matter what, I promise you to come back. Nothing will get in my way.”

The usually stoic man had a slight tremble to his frame, never loosening his grip around one of the two most important people in his life, despite feeling like they’re slipping through his fingers. “You better.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

“I swear.”

“And make sure that moron doesn’t do anything stupid either. Ok?”

“That’s a big ask, little one, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Kil.” 

With their conversation having come to an end, they both stand there, soaking in each others’ warmth and touch, for a few more moments before Y/n pulls away, kisses his mask once more, and makes their way out of the small cabin- leaving Killer alone, wondering how things could have gone this wrong in not even 48 hours.

Taglist: @claxdoesntknow @teddyitalia @baelien-queen @heilee @iamn1ya @gnarlycrys

[indignantlemur]

Hey :) watching the Canada nationals today and it struck me: andorians would probably love figure skating?? Thoughts?

I've had some thoughts about this myself, actually! Thanks for the ask!

When I look at Andorians as I've written them and consider how they would view various activities, ideas, etc, I go through three questions which I feel would have informed their historical mindset:

(1) Does it contribute to the safety and prosperity of the Clan or the Empire?

Historically, Andorians couldn't afford to waste much in the way of time, energy, or resources. This had a huge impact on their attitudes towards anything deemed frivolous or reckless or wasteful, which is much more severe than the average Human might expect; if it doesn't serve the Clan or the Emperor, then it's not important enough to waste resources on. That sort of ingrained thinking is slow to change. In fact, it's really only been in recent centuries, starting just after the Unification of Andoria, that their cultivation of the arts and leisurely pursuits has really taken off. They experienced a wild renaissance period shortly after the Unification, during which resource-intensive but culturally vital accomplishments were made and traditional artforms were refined and popularized on a much wider scale than ever before.

This new peace brought about by the formation of the Federation has set the stage for a second renaissance, though what this new era will bring to Andoria and its people is yet unknown.

(2) Does it burn more resources than it earns?

Rapid metabolism, life in high energy-cost environments, and resource scarcity do not do the Andorians any favours. Historically, the Clans had to be very choosy about where they invested time, food, materials, and people. Anything that didn't help to provide for the Clan was dismissed as fanciful at best, and a dangerous waste of resources at worst. Life.in recent centuries has been much less harsh, allowing for a great deal of leeway where none existed before, but old attitudes linger nonetheless.

(3) Does it fulfill some cultural or religious need which might make it exempt from the previous two requirements?

Historically, calculated expenditures of valuable resources were made to boost morale, to strengthen bonds between families, and to create a sense of community. Festivals, rites, fêtes, you name it. If it could keep the populace happy, the Clans would find a way to make it happen. For the longest time, these events were the sole exceptions to the first two points - and for good reason. Even the most wretched of peoples need more than the bare minimum to thrive. Andorians are no different than anyone else in that regard.

So: figure skating. Let's take a look at it.

On the one hand, I feel like Andorians would be excellent at figure skating between their inherent strength and balance (their antennae being integral to their sense of balance, our course), and Andorians are certainly well known in canon lore for being big on the arts. Post-Unification Andorians place a huge emphasis on art and culture, which bodes well for the adoption of figure skating as an art form.

On the other hand, however, figure skating is a huge energy sink in a culture that has a significant stigma against wasting precious resources. Andorians are most suited for short, brutal bursts of activity as a result of their average metabolic rate. Developing in a resource scarce environment as they did, this shaped the Andorian view on acceptable activities and pastimes. Sustained activity, such as marathons, would be done when necessary (and certainly Imperial Guardsmen would have to meet a bare minimum endurance requirement to qualify for field assignments) but otherwise not pursued recreationally on a large scale.

Consider also that a number of Andorian-origin sports developed as a replacement for their ancient raids and battles. Post-Unification, sports and displays of martial prowess were an outlet for a people with a great deal of natural aggression and nowhere to direct it. Eventually, as time passed and the old ways of constant warfare lost their hold on Andorians as a whole, competitions of skill became as much about prestige and honour as cooperation and unity.

Looking at the question from that perspective, I could see a number of winter sports being popular with Andorians - cross-country skiing, sledding, ice climbing, even speed skating. I suppose it would come down to a question of whether or not figure skating would be considered a sport in their eyes versus an artform based on dancing.

Based on how I've written Andorians, I think they'd initially dismiss figure skating as Human nonsense based on their own cultural mores, but perhaps would gradually warm up to the idea over the decades until younger generations embraced it. It might start as a novelty for rebellious teens, or maybe as a niche hobby for a select few that would eventually gain traction with the wider populace. Certainly, by the time we hit the TNG-era, it might be fully adopted and embraced as a pastime amongst Andorians.

...I think that was all mostly coherent and sensible. Feel free to ask follow up questions! ❄️🇨🇦⛸️

[only-mostlydead]

Hello. Today is my 30th birthday, and I am in bed recovering from surgery. To entertain myself, I wrote up a list of 30 things I'm glad I learned before I turned 30, and now I'm sharing it with you. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't.

30 Things I'm Glad I Learned Before I Turned 30

You can decline to be weighed at the doctor's office. Seriously. Unless they're dosing meds or need to report it to your insurance for something, you can say no thanks. And if they have to weigh you, you can request that they don't tell you the number.

Fed is better than not fed. There are days when my stomach won't tolerate anything except cheese puffs, so I eat the damn cheese puffs, without judgment. Feed yourself the best you can, and know that this will look different every day

Eventually, people will always tell you who they really are. Believe them the first time (this one comes from my mom).

Not living up to family expectations is very often a good thing. Your life needs to make you happy. You are your own person with no obligation to be what they want you to be.

Having a creative hobby that you're not "good" at is important. For me, it's watercolors. I do them because they bring me joy, not because I'm trying to be good at them. That's not to say that I don't love what I paint - I do. But there's no pressure for it to be anything other than fun.

Your job doesn't have to be fulfilling - it can just be a fundraiser for the things in your life that do bring you fulfillment.

Mental health is every bit as important as physical health. Don't neglect either.

When you have nothing to be sorry for, say thank you instead. Thank you for listening instead of sorry I bothered you, thank you for helping me instead of sorry I needed help. I'm not always good at this one.

Throw away the clothing with holes. You deserve clothing that doesn't have holes.

Your clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around. Your body is the thing that carries you through your life. Clothes that don't fit are just scraps of fabric who aren't meeting their performance goals.

Everything is figure out-able. This one also comes from my mom.

Laziness doesn't really exist; it's almost always a response to something else (burnout, low self-esteem, etc).

Being your most authentic self is scary. It's also 100% worth it. Life has gotten better every time I've been even a tiny bit more myself.

There is no timetable for when you should hit certain milestones. You are not behind. You are on your own time.

Femininity means whatever I want it to mean, not what society tells me it means. Everything I do is feminine because I say it is, and no one can tell me otherwise.

Your job doesn't care about you. If you disappeared from the face of the earth, they would replace you immediately. You should bring them the same energy. You're the only one who will look out for you.

Use your PTO. Every damn second of it. When I started my current job, I was told that no one used all of their time off. I do. Every year.

Dieting literally does not work. Scientifically. Reading up on the Minnesota Starvation Experiment, Famine Response, and why BMI is literally sexist, racist bullshit changed my life.

Doctors might be experts in their respective fields, but they are not experts in what it's like to live in your body. Whenever possible, find one who makes you an active participant in your care plan.

Wear whatever the hell you want. Life is too short to worry what other people will think.

Live theatre, good meals, and beautiful tattoos are always worth the money.

Anger isn't inherently bad. Most of the time, it's your signal that something is wrong. This is the most impactful thing my therapist ever taught me as an ex-vangelical who grew up hearing that anger was a sin.

Don't put down the things that bring others joy. If they're not hurting you, themself, or anyone else, why waste your energy?

You cannot miss out on the things that are meant for you. If you miss it, it wasn't meant for you, and you should probably be grateful you missed it.

If I'm too much, go find less.

You are always responsible for your actions. Diagnoses, negative life experiences, and the like might explain bad behavior, but it doesn't excuse it. You are responsible for you.

Your feelings are always valid, but they are not always correct.

Go outside. Every day if you can. Even if it's for 30 seconds. Go get some fresh air on your face and look at a tree. If you can't make it outside, open a window, even just for a minute. Your brain will thank you.

You can leave. Hate the fitness class? Leave. Party too loud? Leave. Doctor not listening? L e a v e. As the famous tumblr post goes, if it sucks, hit da bricks!

You need nothing days. Days where you intentionally do absolutely nothing and feel zero guilt for that. Sit in bed, binge a Netflix show, eat some snacks, and don't think about all the things you're not doing. Let yourself rest, dammit.

[newtonsheffield]

Idk about your comfort level with the topic so please feel free to ignore this but I just wanted to say I feel the same way about dating. It just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me, and I don’t want to put all this time and energy desperately looking for someone out of a societally-shaped fear of not being in a relationship. Have people told you things like “oh, you still have so much time, it’ll happen for you,” and “it’ll happen when you least expect it,” “you’ve got to put yourself out there more,” and if so, do you have a good response to that? I get told this all the time and I know they’re not coming from a malicious place but I’m tired of hearing it. Especially when I want to carve my happiness out of other things, and not spend my life feeling like I’m missing out.

Anyways, whether or not you answer (which of course is totally up to you), thank you for sharing that on here because it made me feel less alone. My thought process was basically if someone as cool as Molly thinks this way then maybe I’m not in the wrong and there’s some truth to that concept.

First of all, the fact that I would ever be considered cool is... concerning. I am the biggest dork you'll find.

So here's the thing, yeah people say that all the time. They can't seem to help themselves. Random friends of my Mum think it's coffee table conversation, and it's really uncomfortable. And It's a little disheartening and annoying because obviously, yeah, if it was an option I would want it, but it's not for me for whatever reason right now. I live in a small area and I'm just... not meeting people right now and honestly, I've sort of lost interest in the whole awful process of it all for it to come to nothing and that's fine. I'm focusing on myself.

Comparatively, my sister has known her husband since she was 20 and she was married at 23. So like... Yeah. There's that that people love comparing to.

I usually say this: "Yeah, I'm obviously in a really different point in my life than I thought I'd be when I was younger. I would have thought I'd be married by now but I also thought my husband would be Daniel Radcliffe."

But in all seriousness, I am at a different point in my life than I thought I'd be, and all the things I watched my sister grow up and do with her husband, I'm doing by myself. But I'm not going to stop myself from actually living my life, waiting for something that might never happen. I used to work with someone who didn't want to travel until she was married or get a dog before she was married and like, yeah, cool. But what if that doesn't happen?

Don't limit yourself that way.

I'm open to things if they happen, but I'm not seeking them out. I still have a pretty fulfilling life and here's the truth that we as human beings don't want to admit:

If you weren't enough for yourself, another person won't magically fix that.

Like I said, I'm not sure anyone should be taking life advice from me but that's my two cents

[kleenex-tissues]

Yours Truly (8)

AO3 here

Ch. 8: First Comes Love, Second Comes Marriage, Then Comes Jagged Pushing a Baby Carriage

No matter how many times Marinette lied to herself, she knew that deep down, she was not over Adrien Agreste. It was supposed to be an adolescent crush, not one that would follow her so closely to adulthood, and quite frankly, she was a little tired of it. Adrien was her best friend. He came to her for advice and comfort, and she cared for him in ways that weren’t supposed to breach the line of platonic. Hugs, cuddles, and all the other displays of affection his father couldn’t afford him. She loved him, but not in the way he would love her.

Sometimes, it was difficult to be his main support system. Alya and Nino tried their best to fill in the gaps, but they were no stand in for the bond shared between Marinette and Adrien.

She knew he was Chat Noir. After all, she had to learn eventually to fulfill her duty as the guardian. However, she did not wish for him to know her identity. Laying that secret on his already heavy shoulders would be too inconsiderate for her to even consider, so she sufficed with being his friend in and out of the suit. Even though he may not ever know she was Ladybug, they still shared that unconscious bond that placed trust in one another above all others.

It was painful, knowing that he had overcome his crush on Ladybug but hadn’t fallen in love with Marinette in turn. She knew it was unfair, but part of her would always resent the fact that he couldn’t seem to love either side of her. Yet, she loved him, so she let him lay his head on her shoulder. She let him lay in her bed and cry after his father banned Adrien from setting foot in the office, the one place he could see him. She held him and stroked his hair and rubbed circles on his back. She let him consume all of her love, without ever expecting anything in return.

And today, Adrien told Marinette that he realized how terribly he had treated Kagami when they had dated. He had left her to the wayside often, expecting that she would replace the love he had for Ladybug without giving her anything back. He had led her on when they were kids and he wanted to try learning what it was like to love someone again. He decided Kagami deserved to have the chance he couldn’t give her the first time. She had never stopped loving him.

Marinette smiled and encouraged him to go for the girl, but her stomach was twisting. Had he not done the same to her? Thrown her to the side when all she did was be there for him?

She pushed the feeling down, forcing herself to believe that this jealousy was an emotion reserved for someone she loved, and she wasn’t supposed to love Adrien Agreste anymore.

To: d.w.redbird@xxxxx.net From: maridesigns@xxxxx.net Subject: Growing Up

Hey Damian,

Have you ever fallen in love before?

It’s kind of a bad feeling.

It makes my stomach ache and my hands shake. I find myself jealous of my friends. I resent Kagami because Adrien wants to fall in love with her. They dated once, a long time ago when I told myself I loved someone else, even though I knew I couldn’t get over him.

He didn’t give her a chance, and I suppose I never really gave Luka one either. We were too busy chasing each other’s shadows to give anyone else the love they deserved.

I fell in love with Adrien when I was 14. I made a calendar based around his schedule, brought him sweets from the bakery, and tried countless times to confess to him. It never did work.

I know he loves me now, even if it's not in the way I wanted.

Maybe one day I’ll stop loving him, and be the friend I’m supposed to be.

I hope you didn’t feel your first love the way I did.

Au Revoir, Mari

–

Marinette fidgeted in her seat by the café window. She was supposed to meet Penny Rolling here an hour ago, but the meeting got delayed due to an akuma attack. Penny was stuck on the other side of town by a police brigade and Marinette was, well, fighting the akuma.

It had been a quick but annoying battle. Mr. Pigeon – no, Mr. Ramier, had been akumatized for the hundredth time after he found that his favorite pigeon to feed had been hurt when a car ran her over. It was an accident, of course, but his emotions overtook him nonetheless. He cried, caused a little more destruction than normal, and was de-akumatized. Ladybug left him with a card for a great therapist and sent Chat Noir home before his feather allergy made his face swell any further.

It was a simple open-and-shut case, but Marinette couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Hawkmoth hadn’t sent out any akumas this week prior to today’s attack, and it was an easy one, at that. Every week was different, she knew that. Some weeks brought a few large and difficult attacks, others many smaller ones interspersed throughout. She hadn’t had such an easy week as Ladybug in years. This was not normal. Hawkmoth had to be planning something.

She made a mental note to talk later with the kwamis about how to handle the situation, maybe send a letter to Su-Han at the Guardians’ Temple. After he had returned to the temple two years ago, they had been corresponding on how to best handle the situation. They had many theories regarding the identity of Hawkmoth and his ultimate plan for the miraculi.

Marinette had wandered herself deep into her thoughts, barely able to register the notification on her phone. It was probably Penny, apologizing for being late. She doubted she’d need to read it, but she checked her lock screen anyway.

Instagram - Just Now

Dukethomas20 is now following you.

An eyebrow quirked. She didn’t know anyone named Duke, but sometimes she would have fans from her design account follow her personal account. It probably wasn’t a big deal.

Just as Marinette went to click on the account, a breathless voice sounded behind her and shut out all thoughts of the notification. “Mari, I’m so glad I’m not too late!” Penny had finally arrived, stepping closer to the young girl to give her a hug. “These stupid akuma attacks are gonna be the death of me. If I have to hear Jagged try to sing the akuma out of their transformation, I think I’ll just let Hawkmoth take the reins.”

Marinette laughed and hugged her friend back. Penny was the manager and wife to world famous celebrity, Jagged Stone, and a recurring patron of MDC Designs. Not to mention, her honorary aunt.

“I’m glad you got to make it here. How have you been?”

Penny released her, moving to sit across from her at the small round table. She was nervous, Marinette could tell, so she placed her hand on the older woman’s to remind her that everything was safe with her. Penny swallowed and a shaky smile grew on her face.

She leaned in close to Marinette and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

Marinette practically flew out of her seat in excitement. She threw herself around the table and into Penny’s arms, cheering for her. Penny and Jagged had wanted a baby for a couple years now, so the fact that it was finally happening filled Marinette with glee. She felt that the people she loved should always get to have these happy moments. She would save Paris and make the reality happen.

Penny snaked her arms around Marinette and cried into her shoulder, glad that the time had finally come. The two couldn’t be happier and if Marinette had pulled Penny out of her chair and was holding her up, no one in the café would judge her for it.

Realization dawned on Marinette that she was holding Penny high in the air. She set her back down gently, even going so far as to push in the chair for her. Penny was pregnant, so Marinette was determined to do everything possible to protect her and her unborn child. She apologized for being overzealous, but Penny waved her off, merely motioning for her to sit with a generous smile.

“We want you to be the godmother,” Penny said.

Marinette was taken aback. Sure, she babysat Manon for a long time, but that didn’t mean she was qualified to be a godmother! It was a huge honor, but she hesitated to respond, afraid of her ability to fulfill the job in case an accident happened.

Penny knew she was getting ahead of herself. Mimicking what her niece had done for her earlier, she grabbed Marinette’s hands and squeezed. “I know you’re overthinking this, but Jagged and I talked about this. There’s no one that we trust more.” Marinette blushed. “You’re kind and smart and responsible. You would be the best possible role model for our baby. We would love nothing more than if you would take this honor.”

This was a big commitment, but hearing Penny’s words of affirmation, Marinette knew what her answer was.

“Yes,” she gushed. “I would love to!”

[renee-writer]

Loved Her First Chapter 86

AO3

“No daddy.” She rolls her eyes, “I don’t wish to court anyone.” A week after she entered the mystical realm of womanhood, he finds time to talk with her. They sit in her room. She is brushing out her curls, so like her mama’s. He sits on the chair beside her bed.

 

“A grand thing.” He has never hid his feelings from her, or any of his children, “as I am not ready for you to.”

 

“Daddy, why does it have to be this way? Just because I am now able to bare children,” this was a point her mama was careful to go over with her, “why do lads want to court me? I have plenty of time to bear children. Mama bore Caelan and myself very late in life.” She works her curls into a braid securing it with a ribbon.

 

He sighs. “I know. Lads, they, well, you are a beautiful lass and quite eligible, as my daughter. It makes lads eager to take you as their bride.”

 

“Mama says I must do more ladylike things now,” she pulls a face of disgust, “like sewing and cooking. It isn’t fair daddy. Caelen ‘s life hasn’t  changed and we are the same age.”

 

“My darling Ainslie, you have a certain role to fulfill as does your brother. I know it seems unfair but, you are becoming a lady now. Ladies are expected to do certain things and not others. The same as lads. Caelan will be spending more time with me, learning to be Laird someday. You will be spending more time with your mama, learning to be a wife and mother.”

 

“Oh daddy, you know I adore mama but I would rather be riding Dawn and inspecting fences with you.” Her face crumbles as tears fill her eyes.

 

From the moment of her birth, she had him wrapped around her finger. Her tears are a horror to him. He moves, drawing her into his arms. A compromise is in order.

 

“How’s this. You do as you need to learn to become a lady and then, on Saturdays you and I will take a long ride?”

 

She sniffles against his chest. “You promise?”

 

“Aye, I promise.”

 

“Alright, if I must.”

 

He lifts her head, thumbing away her tears. “You must. It might not be as bad as you think.”

 

“Probably much worse but I shall endure it, for Saturdays.”

 

“Good lass. Now, off to bed with you.” He stands and she climbs under the covers.

 

“A tale daddy.” Since they were weaned, he has tucked them into bed and told them a tale to help them drift off. Caelan has recently told him that he is to old for such. His baby girl, though, still requests them. He clings to the tradition, knowing it will also end.

 

“Aye, which one?”

 

“How you and mama meet?” She settles in to listen.

 

“We were running from the English. I had fell off my horse, injuring my shoulder. We were hiding out in a old cabin when Murtagh came in dragging the most beautiful lass I ever laid eyes on, dressed in what we all assumed, was a shift…”

 

 

“Anything you wish to ask me?” It is the morning of Finn’s wedding. Jeremiah is both proud of and terrified for his child. His child, now a man, insane.

 

Finn, looking so much like his mama, stands tall and assured, in his kilt. They have discussed this night and what to expect. Jeremiah is confident that he will be fine it is just… He has trouble seeing him as a man grown.

 

“No papa. I wish to thank you for all you have done. I know it isn’t  easy being both mama and papa. I heard people saying that they were surprised you didn’t give me to Auntie Faith and Uncle Ian for raising. Thank you for not doing that.”

 

Jeremiah blinks unexpected tears out of his eyes. He didn’t expect to be crying yet. Not until the end of the ceremony, but his son’s words touched his heart. “You are welcome son.” He hugs him, “I love you. I would have done nothing different.”

 

“We are old Jamie.” Claire says as they prepare for the wedding, “Having a grandson getting married.”

 

He laughs as he straightens his kilt. “Aye, but a blessing. We have lived to see this.”

 

The easy feeling grows a bit heavy as they both think of Brianna.

 

“She would be so proud.” She replies. He nods, blinking tears out of his eyes.

 

“Aye.”

 

The Fraser’s and Mackenzie ‘s enter the council house. Hope, Grace, and Mercy, join Germaine, Joanie, and Henri-Christian. When their grandparents enter, Ainslie and Calaen join them. They are stilled by the gravity of the situation. The adults stand across from the elders of Odina’s tribe.

 

A hush comes over the gathering as Finn enters from the west and Odina from the east. Odina’s  mother and Jeremiah step up and place the traditional blue blankets over them. Usually that would be his mama’s job but… The blue represents the sorrow and problems they experienced as single people.

 

Traditional prayers are said. The romance of it all has Ainslie tearing up when the priest recites, “ Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. No you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth for the other. Now there is no more loneliness. Now there is two persons but there is only one life before you. Go now to your dwelling, to enter into your life together. And may your days be good and long upon the earth.”

 

Jamie  approaches them, removing the blue blankets and covering them both with one large white one.

 

Odina gifts Finn a black and red belt, placing it in him, with a blush. They exchange other gifts, he presents her with bison meat and corn, she gifts him with tanned skins and blankets. They both show they can care for each other.

 

More blessings are said, a compilation of both their traditions. Jeremiah recites Protestant prayers over the couple. The priest offers Cherokee ones.

 

The couple are announced to be joined in matrimony. They laugh and kiss as their families lead them out. They will feast before being lead into the marriage hut to consummate their marriage.

[manicdepressivebipolar]

Its been a while...

Good day,

I think this will be the first time using this application connected to my phone. I guess this looks decent?

Okay let's start.

Today is April 9, 2023 in Philippine time.

2023 has been a year of growing my success building my financial strength and reflecting on my personality. But before all of that why I wanted to share this story of my rise above my broke era is that I want to humble myself and be really thankful for God or any higher being that was guiding me along the way.

Year 2022 a summary.

2021 I was at job that pays as little as 8-12k a month and I was trying to make ends meet from my schooling, my rent and my daily needs. I opted to find a job that sounds futuristic - I switched to an online job. This was one of the best decision I had in my life looking back. 2022 I was having double job, I invested on tech to keep my two jobs and it was working. Since one of my job was paying high enough to cover both of my jobs I continued on even though I know it was ruining my physical and mental health. I was an HR Director and a web designer on the side. I decided to leave my job immediately  when I found myself crying and dragging myself to work on a daily basis. It was literally killing me.

I did not have any back-up job or whatsoever. All along I was relying on my savings. The wrong turn was I was using it for my leisure and not looking for a new job. Anyway, I got broke and went into different loan sharks to make ends meet. This was another and one of my biggest downfall ever.

I landed a job after 6 months from a finance company in the US. It did not pay me well at first but I did not have much choice. Slowly, I was able to pay my depths and gaining back my social activities but everything seems to be a blurr moving forward 2022 from there then - I kept going out, partying, being with strangers to have fun and did illegal things on the side up until the last day of December.

It did not really affect my financial but I know I was still in depth.

from June of 2022 till November 30 - I was juggling three jobs. Just to pay everything already. I eas making my life work, I was paying what I owed people and banks.

Until I decided to let go of one job that really helped me rise up. I could not keep it due to the stress it was giving me on a daily basis. I kept my fiance job due to its flexibility in working terms as a digital nomad and one job that I got as a blessing from my friend which was a direct hire in Texas, USA.

Since December I was earning alot more than I was expecting. Slowly, I was rising from my era of being broke.

2023.

My salary increased by 10,000 pesos in finance and the other job paid as it is but I had alot of extra hours worked so, I was living comfortably by January. I was able to buy the phone that I wanted, I got a free PC from my company, I was paying my own place and bills without anyone helping and I get go help my boyfriend while he kept going in fulfilling his dreams in being a doctor here in the Philippines.

When my boyfriend passed the board exams. We promised that 2023 was a year of us fulfilling our dreams, meeting our goals and establishing our professional career while we were fixing our relationship and making our bond more stronger including our family.

2023.

Looking back at my 2022 and comparing my situation now, I am really blessed. God or any higher being that helped me out of that dark hole, humbles me every single time. I also want to take credit for never giving up on the situations I was in. I kept going. I kept myself from being humble without losing my stand on my personality at work.

I had so much day and reason to give up already in life but there is always that voice "matatapos din to", " I will have the life that I want" and " kaya ko to". Those simple motivation in my head really kept me going.

My boyfriend landed a job, I kept going and earning. Both of us is building our financial stability and strength, earning together, saving, treating ourselves on the side and finally hindi na kami magugutom.

I remember, before halos wala talaga kami makaen. We needed to tipid the things we have. We relied on the little money we have to eat on a daily basis. But now, we have abundance of money, food, other supplies and we can treat ourselves and or family. We are so lucky!

I know we are still starting but as early as now I just want to be thankful with all the blessings I am receiving, my boyfriend is receiving and I hope this continues and everything we manifested will be soon be true.

From negative balances to an abundance as of today. I can't help shed a tear or cry a river of tears on this journey. It truly is a miracle and just really leaves me in an awe on how I did everything.

[ackledot]

nobody asked for this but here's my Death Note: Soul Eater AU headcanons (this ain't super well-thought through, I was just having fun with it so)

• Light & Misa are both Meisters, with Ryuk & Rem as their Weapons respectively OR Light & Rem are Meisters, Ryuk & Misa are Weapons and Misa is dead set on getting them to swap so she can be Light's weapon (Light is totally against this idea and claims it's because Misa's already created a bond with Rem and he wouldn't want her health to decline just so she could be his weapon) (also cue Ryuk thinking this is fucking hilarious and just going with it, so he teases Rem about being her weapon but she fucking hates him for it lmfao)

• L is a Weapon who nobody has ever actually seen in weapon form, like everybody is actually pretty sure he's a Meister bc he just has to be, right? but no, he's definitely a Weapon and he has no actual Meister (Watari just happens to be a Meister, but doesn't ever use L to anyone's knowledge), he doesn't abide by societal norms for Weapons and Mesiter to the extent of playing his role 'correctly'

• L deems Light to be a Meister fucking immediately, off-the-bat, which he also does for Kira, "He's extremely good at manipulating people. Meister and Weapon. Mentally and physically. Kira being a Meister simply gives him more control and power. If he's a Weapon, he's surely not flaunting it. And if he's got a Meister, he's not letting them use him. At least I don't think so. It's not in his nature." and fuck he's right on the money and Light pretends to be weirded out that L knows so quickly he's a Meister bc Weapons are always seen as 'stronger' physically, but L understands Meisters must be strong as well in order to carry their Weapons and Light's all 'Dammnit, he got me. He knew I'd want to defend Meisters natural strength as a Meister myself. It's exactly what Kira would do... Although it's something any self-respecting Meister would do, isn't it? Would it have been more suspicious if I'd said nothing about it at all?' and yeah all that BS, ofc if L uses this societal stereotype upon meeting Light, "Yes, well Weapons are typically stronger than their counterparts, no? It's in their DNA, after all" ugh and L is fucking so amused as his reaction lmfao

• And to add to that, if the world where L is a Weapon, Light doesn't know this but I think once he finds out, if ever, he's all like 'So did he say all that crap because he thinks he's better than me?" Ego trip of the century.

• If Misa is a Meister, she LOATHES it after meeting Light. She tried to stay positive with the thought of 'Aw, we have so much in common, Light!' but she fucking lives for the thought of being Light's Weapon. So ofc since she cannot fulfill that role of being used by Light (oh boy...) she's keen on following his commands to a T if she's able. 'Since I can't be his Weapon... I'll do this for him instead!', 'I can still be helpful to Light as another Meister!'

• Rem is down BAD- she is so fucking in love with Misa and she lets Misa make the worst decisions that end up hurting Rem too, like going into battles and making risky plays, swinging wide, etc just bc Misa knows that's what Light wants and how Light expects her to fight or wtv and Rem fucking hates Light sm still and the thought of Light being her Meister makes her shiver, she doesn't know how Ryuk does it

• Oh, Ryuk. He fucking loves being Light's Weapon low-key. Light is super fucking aggressive as Kira + risky (part of why he expects it from Misa since she's the 2nd Kira) and Ryuk lives for it bc entertainment is his top priority obv, but he fucking hates when Light is practicing as himself at school or wtv

• Extension on that. Yeah, Light when he's acting as Kira and serving justice to criminals, he's fucking ruthless. He's doesn't ever purposefully increase someone's suffering just because, as he thinks swift justice is for the best and no one deserves to be tortured extensively for their crimes. It's better if the world is rid of them sooner rather than later. But Light at school is a completely different person. When sparring or fighting as a student he takes a more defensive position. This is partly just to make a statement of how he couldn't possibly be Kira to anyone who would even ponder it, for whatever reason. But also because an overly aggressive nature is looked down upon by his father, especially.

• L fucking psychoanalyzes Light's fighting an absurd amount. Like he fucking clocks Light's behavior so fast, "It's almost more suspicious how opposite your fighting style is to Kira's, Light. After all, wouldn't it make more sense for you to fall somewhere between more offensive and more defensive?" And Light fucking hates him for it omg. And ofc this makes Light more aware of this and he tries to subtly be more 'normal' rather than completely differing how Kira thinks and acts, yk?

• I feel like L and Light's wavelengths would be like... really fucking extremely compatible, their souls are fucking near-perfect for each other and people like almost pick up on this???? But at the same time, it seems like L and Light's personalities clash despite them having similar ideals and bc they're both so intelligent the conversations they have sometimes go over people's heads and no one can tell if they both realize the distinct feeling of compatibility their souls have like...

• So Rem and Ryuk are scythes, Ryuk is harder scythe to handle I think, but he's slimmer and the angle of his blade is smaller, while Rem in weapon form looks WAY too fucking big for Misa to be able to even carry let alone swing around as a fucking weapon in battle (I think Rem could also resemble one of the scythes we've already seen Misa with in official art n stuff, but a more unique design for her weapon form is appreciated)

• L is a chain scythe (lol) and as was already implied, he's totally a Lone Weapon. Again, he never really transforms or anything, even a single body part and he just lets people assume he's a Meister w/o a Weapon partner. But fully transformed, L is actually a chain scythe, super fucking cool

• Other characters, finally!: Near is a Meister 100%, but he doesn't have a weapon, Mello is a Weapon and he fucking hates it for a while, esp when he's young and he and Near are still under the impression that L is actually a Meister. I think Matt is a Weapon too, not really relevant but it's Matt and ppl like him so yeah, he's a Weapon

• Near actually uses Mello in-weapon, I think, just ONCE??? Maybe... In a world where he's still solving the Kira case post-L fucking dying, I think that one time he and Mello work together could possibly be the one time Near is seen in his role as Meister, yk?? I'm just not sure how that could work within the storyline and I don't think it does but ... It's there

• Mikami is a Weapon, I think. And I think Light is able to use his to an extent as well and Mikami totally gets off on it

• Takada is a Weapon too just bc I think her rubbing being a Weapon in Misa's face would be funny if Misa were a Meister lmfao, otherwise Takada being a Meister makes more sense but the dinner scene w Misa and Takada while Takada is all like "And does he rub his fingers down your blade... Oh that's right. I apologize, I forgot." SO FUNNY, i can't

• uhhh who else is there??? The Task Force.... Matsuda is a Meister, I think and Aizawa is a Weapon and if the warehouse were to happen in this AU, Matsuda absolutely uses Aizawa to shoot Light and fucking just...has amazing aim despite no one ever seeing use a Weapon before that wasn't just like a normal as gun and yeah it's fucking sick. Ofc that makes Aizawa a gun which I think totally fits. Mogi isssssss, I think based on vibes alone he's a Weapon, idk what kinda, maybe also a gun??? I think gun Weapons get like... More incentive to be officers in this AU ig??? If we're working with a similar governmental and law systems as in canon, like gun Weapons totally have an advantage here, on top of decent Meisters idk

• Soichiro is a Meister and Light 'wants to be just like [him]' type shit except him using a scythe is like... Totally off-kilter, but Soichiro also understands he wants to be a strong Meister and most of the strongest Meisters have Death Scythes so... Yk

• for fun, I think Sachiko is just... A normal ass human, by technicality, like she could be a Meister but she's never tried to pick up a Weapon or anything so who knows, she doesn't really care enough to find out

• Sayu is a Weapon, I said it. She's the black sheep of the Yagami family, and I think some offhanded comments about how naive and malleable she is could be made by Light or Soichiro or something but at the end of the day, Sayu is one of the few Weapons within the Yagami family and it's kind of an odd occurrence

-_-_-_-_

I might add onto this later, who knows, but for now, this is it!

[lovelymomosstuff]

I would most definitely want to visit Vietnam again and definitely we'll spend time together when I'm back. You can take me to all the places you'd like me to experience!! And same goes to you if you ever find yourself in California I'd like to take you around and show you all the fun and memorable places here ✨

I did not know there's tinder for the computer?! I have been using just the phone app, and it's hard for me to type and I have boy nails 😂 You're very considerate as I said before Thanh you put allot of effort into responding to me and even take notes... I really appreciate you. It does not sound dumb at all don't say that!

No need to ask for forgiveness I understand we have a drastic time zone difference. You simply responding whenever you're available to do so or have free time I'm happy enough I promise. Please rest more Thanh you need it especially with the occasional nightmares and poor sleep.

Knock knock back to you Thanh, I'm happy to hear that you're experiencing new things such as going to the supermarket alone. It may sound mundane, however every little first time experience counts towards doing something you'd never expected yourself to accomplish keep on living 🌟

I have expectations from myself. I don't want to let myself down ever again. The goal is to live a fulfilling life, and even if that means working a little harder. Or even doing things I currently do not like doing. Delayed gratification is the best reward as you can learn to appreciate the little things.

I think it's important for me to be clear with what I say to you. Because you are still learning English, and your profile does have the language exchange tag. I want to type as clearly and consciously as possible :)

I understand as a women, and perhaps the general conception on this app could give a bad reputation. I personally am direct with what I am curious of, want to know / understand. Once again I do apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable initially Thanh! And yes I did meet someone in Vietnam through tinder, but she wasn't local. Why *screaming* 😶

You're a smart lady I don't doubt that you wouldn't understand what I'm saying. When I speak on the phone with my clients for the first time they always assume I'm white 💀

The thing with English is... Obviously I also went to school to learn English in America they taught us the formal way to speak, write, and compose "properly" however it depends who and what circumstances you need to use formal English. I personally have a decent mixture of both formal and informal English depending on the situation.

You & I are human beings, and I appreciate your honesty. I don't expect anyone to be perfect. However acknowledging, and being able to control your emotions is maturity. I like that

PM

Your texts are definitely entertaining Thanh I enjoy responding to you, and the way you deliver your text I have full comprehension of it so far don't worry! I definitely am still learning to not be distracted by people who aren't worth my time...

Working hard is subjective. There are people currently working more than myself providing for families, or simply put meal on their tables. I think my little bit of hard work isn't going to kill me.

[alexzandriathegood]

Set Intentions for Yourself or Fail Spectacularly

This year, I've been questioning myself more and trying to understand what I mean when I say “I am an artist.” I’ve found myself feeling so unsure in the past that the statement invariably evolved into the question: “Am I an artist?”

Watch the video (available 3/20 at 4pm PST): https://youtu.be/r2UnQY58tGs

What are the thoughts and actions of a real artist? These were actually  hard questions for me to answer, years after I had already decided I wanted to dedicate as much time and resources possible to making this a reality for myself. After a series of unrealistic expectations and failing business strategies I felt so lost. This made me dive even deeper into the advice of art PHONIES on the inter-webs, anyway I digress, there will be plenty of time to address those individuals later.  

This year, I had to focus on what in the actual F I wanted to accomplish in order to lead a fulfilled life in the arts. The definition of success couldn’t come from anyone but myself lest I be vulnerable to unending insecurity about what I am producing, why I am doing it, how, and all the other variable minutiae that come with being an artist in this day and age. By the way, I am totally not pretentious or anything, I just studied a lot of vocabulary growing up so your girl has a distinguished lexicon OKK?? 

So I’ve been becoming more concrete and creating my own (reasonable) standards. It goes like this… Alex is a real artist because she: 1. Creates value 2. Creates something out of nothing 

3. Makes people say “ooo” and “ahh” 

4. Exchanges her art for money 

Firstly, I must affirm my position within my particular context in society as an artist. My original purpose is to create value. I exist to satiate the human need for beauty. If I lose sight of the necessity of my position then everything else falls apart. Second, if I for some reason deem the particular arrangement of pixels on my computer screen to be valuable — it just is. Same for any set of brush strokes on a canvas or ordering of clay on an armature and beyond. Regardless of medium, cost, or the acceptance of my methods, simply for the reason that I position myself as an artist, whatsoever I deem as art simply is. Thirdly, I must make my work as widely available to the public for both critique and celebration. For my work to add value it must be experienced. Finally, money is a proxy for power and social standing. If I am able to continually exchange my art for money within a capitalistic context, then I affirm my value not only as an artist but as a participating member of society. #4 Surely deserves its own post but for now I’ll just leave it at that. If you know, you know. These are four very basic principles which I am using to guide my thoughts and behaviors to align them with my ultimate goal of being a “real” artist. And guess what. This has already produced results for me. I was able to create smaller, more manageable goals in service of my guiding principles. For the first time ever, I debuted in a Los Angeles art gallery this January and again in February and March. Also my art has been accepted into a show in NY for April! 

Setting a clear path for myself has slowly revitalized in me that confidence I lost endlessly churning in circles. And I mean countless tough hours where I felt this MUST pay off, just because of the sheer amount of work I’m putting in. But NOPE! There was no rubric for my performance so there was no way to assess its success.  (Access its success?) And so everything good and bad all blended together into a big sad pile of failure. It was impossible gaining any sort of clarity from those muddied waters. It’s possible this new breakthrough is the product of some maturity I’ve developed as I’ve undertaken this whole art thing. So now I feel it upon my heart to say that if you’re an emerging artist, set your own standards and find a way to reward yourself when you meet them. If you’re an established artist, the world needs more people like you so please mentor someone! Until later!

[hindiimages]

The Art of Being Completely Independent

The woman who measured my temperature is younger than I am. Her skin is flawless and glowing, unlike mine, which is dry and dull. I am only now noticing that her face is nearly smiling, as her eyes are almost full of smiles. She wears a crisp, white shirt over a teal cardigan. Her accents in the gold necklace are also teal. I stare down at the back of my hand and notice a coffee stain on my sweatshirt's arm.

As she examines me, I explain that it was just a cold and that I was going to be away for 2 months. Sweetly curious, and excited for me as a stranger, she asks me where I'm heading. I tell her it's a small Vermont community. I respond that I am not working from home, but I simply want to go on a trip. She wants to know if she knows anyone up there and if I'm visiting friends or family. I answer no again. Now my voice is shaky. I can see the confusion on her face. Alone? She asks. I smile. She smiles.

Also read: Koi Kisi Ka Nahi Hota Quotes

It's not the most bizarre thing in this world to give up my New York apartment and subway traumas and move to a farmhouse with mountain views for less rent. People find it strange that a single 36-year-old woman can leave New York to live alone for six months. People are not comfortable with me being alone at a time when most people expect that I will be settling down. They expect me as a woman to tell them that I don’t want to have children or believe in marriage. This will give them permission to stop worrying about me. Even though I wish I was one of these women who could display her disinterest in these normal paths, I'm not. I'd love to find love. I always thought I would have kids. It's not happening. But, what I am realizing is that it isn't a question of whether or not these things are for me. Yes, sounds great. I'm more interested in the question: at what cost?

Women's late thirties may be the end of their fertility. But they also appear to signal the start of a higher level of self-discovery. Many of us, including my friend and childless woman friends, are starting to take a closer look at our lives as we enter the pressure cooker. When life seems to be going in a certain direction -- like the ending of most movies, books, and stories for women -- then it doesn’t, you must ask yourself where you are headed. Forcing myself into this was a hard but necessary step. It's also the best thing that has ever happened to me. This was how I began to accept writing seriously, after so many years spent trying unsuccessfully, but with great ambition, to have it all. While on many fronts, I find myself diverging from the path that I always imagined, I did discover love.

It becomes complicated when you realize that you are responsible for creating and caring about a new person, when it may be the last chance you have to achieve what everyone else is aspiring to. I enjoy sitting alone in my apartment. This is something that I've accepted recently as my absolute favorite thing to be doing. But, I worry about my future self and the vengeance I will feel for not dating earlier. My inner child is constantly haunted by the parental chorus saying there is no greater power than having children. Even though I've spent decades chasing love, I don't feel more complete and fulfilled than I do right now, in my own company.

I get a lot of laughs when people tell me that I love being alone. I would love to be with someone who loves and cares about me. If I decide to interrupt my writing with a Tinder dating date because I must meet my love of mine tomorrow, then I don't have to make the decision whether to go out and have children. I weigh whether interrupting what I'm doing is the best option.

Even now I have too many options for how I want to spend my free time. The question of whether I want children is still an enigma. These days, I question if it is true that I desire children as often or as frequently as I contemplate another snack. My deepest conviction is that I don’t desire children. My suspicion is that any desire is only a superficial concern about how far I'll be without them. In the same way, I feel at home without a partner. Emotionally, I feel out of place when my hair's natural, wild, and exactly how I want it. Emotionally, the same goes for me when I don’t want to venture outside when it’s sunny. Because the only ground I want is the ugly territory of my mind. And I’d rather be able to do that from the safety of my own couch.

To my friends and relatives, I claim that I'm moving to Vermont to start writing. A self-made "writers' retreat" I created. Being completely alone for two weeks is another matter. I want not to feel bad doing the things that feel right to me. I want to exist in an environment where there is no partnership so I can be who I am for myself and not think about how I should be for another person. I want the freedom to just be me, without having to think about what I should do. I want it to feel good to look at myself in the mirror. I don't need to pretend I did anything or spend money to try to emulate someone else. I want the uninterrupted joy that comes from being alone to be able to trust it later when many people tell me it's not enough. I want the ability to discover what it is I really want even when no one is available to explain.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Words, Words, Words

Prompt: Hey, prompt idea! I would love some roman angst where after POF he stops talking and the other assume that he's mad at them when in reality he is unable to speak. As a selective mute myself, I would love to read a fic like this! - anon

it's been a while since I've posted fresh Roman angst and WOW did this jump out at me and go hey do you wanna project really really hard onto a character? 

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Roman is nonverbal for a lot of this story and some of the things he does when he’s upset by that are self-destructive, nothing explicit

Pairings: the found family kick aint stopping

Word Count: 4128

He didn’t do it on purpose. He swears, he—he didn’t do it on purpose.

  He just couldn’t talk.

It—it hurt, of…of course, it hurt to—to see the fallout of his bad decision explode with such…disastrous consequences. It hurt to see Patton so upset and confused because everyone was expecting him to have answers that he didn’t and—and Roman will take the blame for that, that’s his fault. And it hurt to see Logan so upset even when he was just there in his lowdowns and he—he didn’t have to be so cruel to Logan, that’s his fault too. And it—

  …it hurt to see that he really is just as awful as Remus, even if J—

  No. It doesn’t matter.

  Roman messed up. Really, really bad. And he’ll take the blame for that, he will, he—he knows he hasn’t been the best at accepting the blame in the past, but…he’ll take this one.

  But he didn’t do this on purpose.

  Roman doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s Creativity, or whether he’s the Ego, or what, but sometimes he just…can’t speak. Sometimes his words machine will just…stop working and he won’t be able to speak. He can normally still write or text, and he can understand when others talk, he just can’t say anything.

  The others don’t know, at least he’s never told them. He doesn’t want to be a bother—or have them start to make fun of him when he can’t defend himself—so he normally makes his writing days the ones where he can’t speak out loud. It’s a good way to make sure no one’s worried about why he’s shut up in his room all day or why he’s not speaking much at dinner. Plus, what kind of a prince would he be if he couldn’t talk?

  Don’t worry, he knows he’s not a prince.

  But the others like Prince Roman. Or rather, they like the narrative function that Prince Roman fulfills. So he does his best to make sure they…get that.

  But he didn’t mean for it to happen, not like this.

  He…he knows he messed up after the wedding. He sunk out and made it to his room and fell to his knees, hurt from everything and then some. The bruises hadn’t shown through his costume or gotten too far down his sleeves, but he—he still felt them. He tried to get up and make it to the shower to just wash off the day—the week—the month but getting his arms up to peel away the costume left him panting and he just wanted to curl up and sleep until everything stopped hurting.

  He managed to get himself into the shower and felt his tongue become lead in his mouth.

  He cleared his throat to try and make a noise but all that escaped was a soft rush of air.

  It…hurt.

  It wasn’t gone by morning. Most of the time he can sleep it off or—or if he just gives it some time he’ll—he’ll be fine but it wasn’t gone. His tongue lay there, useless, and he couldn’t say a word.

  That was okay, though, he could—he could make this a writing day. He wouldn’t dare touch anything he wanted to make for Thomas, his hands would shake too much and he—he doesn’t know what Thomas wants anymore so he wouldn’t get it right even if he could try.

  No, no, he could…he could write things for him today.

  Not as a reward for his atrocious behavior, not anything that would be read by anyone else or be useful in any way, but just to…to get some of the worst bits of him out so he wasn’t absolutely abominable when the others wanted him again. Yes, today he could…write.

  ‘Writing,’ what an interesting word for being willing to sit and bleed for others to see.

  Roman’s words don’t so much as pour out of him as much as he sets his fingers on his keys and then can’t control his typing. He just—it hurt and he knows that no one else would want to hear about his hurt so he pours them out into the blank spaces in the white page and tries to imagine that maybe, maybe, someone would read them and see how badly it hurt and pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay.

  If maybe, if he wrote a story good enough, if he made it hurt enough, someone would care.

  He sits there and pours into the blank document until it’s panting and weary from the torrent of words, until his hands ache and the tips of his fingers are worn warm and raw from the click-click-click of the keys. Until the hurt he feels gathers up into a small, dark well just under his tongue, right in the bottom of his jaw, itching and screaming to get out. It leaks out down his arms, making the inside of his wrists tingle as he types.

  No one will read this, no one will see it. These words won’t see the light of day anytime soon.

  And Roman’s tongue is still made of lead.

  He takes his words and lets them tumble clumsily out of his hands, trying in vain to scoop them up and shove them out of his mouth instead but his tongue won’t cooperate. He knows he can’t talk, that he can’t force it, that trying to make it happen will only lead to more pain.

  But he wants to try.

  When his words aren’t back by the next day, he swallows what’s left of his pride, which isn’t much, and goes out to face the others.

  He finds Patton first. Patton doesn’t acknowledge him, so he sits politely down on the couch with a notebook and waits, trying to see if his words will come out through the pen instead of his tongue. But Patton doesn’t talk to him unless he’s asking if Roman wants a drink and well, Roman doesn’t—doesn’t need words for that.

  Patton looks so disappointed in him.

  He wants to try. He wants to open his mouth and tell Patton he’s sorry. Sorry for everything. He wants to. He wants to.

  He opens his mouth and his tongue deflates, useless, just enough for him to sigh and hunch his shoulders in defeat.

  He doesn’t want to disappoint Patton, he wasn’t trying to disappoint Patton, he wants to apologize and be better, but he can’t.

  Perhaps that is the true disappointment.

  Logan is next to appear because Logan is Logan and Roman loves him and Logan always gets his cup of coffee in the morning before breakfast. He walks down the stairs and also does not look at Roman which is fine because that is what Roman deserves but he wants to try.

  He opens his mouth to call out to Logan or Patton but his tongue is so heavy and he can’t. He can’t speak. He should be able to speak, he should be able to say something to Logan, he should be able to tell him how sorry he is but he can’t and he’s useless.

  His pen stands frozen on the notebook pages, leaving a big, dark, useless well of ink.

  Logan sits down on the couch with a book and his coffee. He doesn’t look up at Roman. Roman stares at him, pleading, hoping that Logan will look up and meet his gaze, and maybe, just maybe, he can see how sorry Roman is and it will—something will be better.

  “Don’t stare at me, Roman, it’s rude.”

  Roman’s cheeks burn as he looks away. Logan didn’t move his eyes from the book once.

  He picks up the pen and watches it drip onto the page. The pages are wet, now, so much so that when he tries to pull them apart they stick together, the lines threatening to tear as he tries to separate them.

  He leaves them be.

  The next few hours are spent in a loop of trying to open his mouth to say something and only a soft rush of air escaping. He tries to hold it behind his hand and say please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so awful, I’ll be better, I promise, but the words won’t come. His tongue is taunting him, he decides, by pressing insistently up against the back of his teeth until he has to open his mouth only for it to refuse to produce words.

  He wants Logan to explain to him that talking works for him too. That the vocal chords and the muscles of the throat moving together build up pressure behind the larynx, which then chops up the stream of air to produce a steady oscillation for a sustained sound. He wants Logan to say it in that voice of his that makes it so everything makes sense so of course, Roman, you can speak, it’s okay. Everything is okay.

  But Logan would never say that, not to Roman, because Roman’s words aren’t worth Logan’s time.

  When Virgil comes downstairs, he tries. He really tries. He opens his mouth and everything and takes a deep breath and—

  Virgil marches straight over to Logan and sits down, his head on Logan’s shoulder and the two of them could not be paying any less attention to Roman.

  The wind gets knocked out of him. His mouth falters closed. He tries to open it away but his jaws are stiff and gummy, his teeth aching in his mouth as he tries to just talk. He just wants to say something, he just wants to apologize, he just waits to be sorry and have them all know he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, but they won’t know because he doesn’t have words.

  The words he wants to say are queuing up at the back of his throat, weighing his mouth down and he wants to say them, but he—he—he can’t. He wants to tell Virgil that he’s sorry he’s been the worst friend ever, that he’s sorry he’s so awful to their famILY, that he’ll go away and leave them all alone if that’s what they want but he can’t say a damn word of it out loud and he’s going to cry.

  But he can’t because crying isn’t words and the only thing the others want from him is words.

  If Virgil notices him trying, which he probably doesn’t, he’s kind enough not to say anything.

  Roman is terrified when Remus comes.

  Because Remus is loud and loves nothing more than to make Roman’s life harder. If Remus knew he was nonverbal right now, his best bet would be to leave as quickly as possible because he—

  Wait, no.

  If Roman wanted it to be best for him, he would leave as fast as possible. But Roman doesn’t know anything anymore so he doesn’t move.

  Remus, as it turns out, doesn’t care about Roman—which, why would he?—and instead flops proudly onto the floor and begins to talk animatedly with Logan about something.

  Roman wants to say sorry. Sorry that he’s never done anything right when it comes to Remus, sorry that he thinks being compared to him is the worst thing possible, sorry that he’s Roman and Remus is stuck with him.

  But his tongue is lifeless.

  So he is quiet, flipping aimlessly through his notebook, looking for something to give his words back.

  Was he selfish yesterday? Did he use all of them up on something no one would ever see? No, no, that’s not how it works, he just—he knows he should be able to talk, maybe if he just waits a little longer, his words will come back.

  But then Janus appears.

  And Roman needs to be able to talk now.

  Because he needs to tell Janus that he’s sorry. That he messed everything up and he’s awful and he knows it and he’s so, so, so sorry. And he needs to know that it isn’t a lie, that Roman is genuinely sorry and he just needs to speak, if he could just open his mouth and say something and say that he’s sorry and—and—

  Janus stops and looks right at him.

  Roman’s breath catches in his throat.

  Janus’s eyes narrow.

  Please, please, I’m sorry, let me say I’m sorry, I can’t speak, I want to speak, let me speak—

  Janus’s face cools into stone and he deliberately turns away.

  Roman wants to scream.

  He scrambles away from the living room and his hands fly to his hair, squeezing, pulling, trying to rip the sound from his throat because it won’t come otherwise. Trying to reach deep inside and find something, some word, some sound, some thing just to make it so he can talk, say he’s sorry, say anything.

  The computer screen blinks mockingly at him. Come on, it taunts, where was this agony when you were pouring your words out onto me yesterday? Why do you ache so badly now when you know you can’t do anything about it? Is it worth it?

  Nothing will ever be worth this. To have them there, right in front of him, and not be able to tell them how sorry he is.

  A silent scream is the best he can do.

  It doesn’t stop. His tongue doesn’t flicker back to life. Even after two days, three days, four, he still can’t manage to speak. He can’t manage to open his mouth and make a single word come out. He tries. He sits down in front of the computer and glares at the screen, forcing his mouth to make the shapes and forcing his vocal chords to make the sounds.

  He never gets further than a single word.

  He rushes, slurs, cheats in any way he can, and doesn’t even manage to get to the end of a sentence.

  He’s panting, in tears, trying, trying, trying so hard to say something, anything, because if he can say one thing, he can say more, and if he can say more, he can tell them how sorry he is.

  Roman would gladly give up all the words he doesn’t have to be able to say ‘sorry’ again.

  (Logan, downstairs, glances up from his book.

  Virgil is sprawled next to him on the couch, his head resting against Logan’s thigh. Patton is sitting on the other end, Virgil’s legs in his lap as he talks to Janus. Janus sits in the chair, his own book forgotten on his lap. Well, almost forgotten as he tugs it out of Remus’s grasp as he makes…something on the floor.

  “It’s been quiet recently,” he remarks to himself, “almost…peaceful.”

  Virgil shifts. “Yeah, I know. I kinda like it.”

  “So do I.” He glances down and, after a moment of hesitation, slides his hand into Virgil’s hair. “Is this alright?”

  “Yeah, L, that’s fine.”

  “Aww, you two are cute.” Patton grins at them. “It’s been nice lately, hasn’t it?”

  “Mm.” Janus tugs the book out of Remus’s reach again. “Remus, I certainly understand what you want with my book.”

  “Art, Janny.”

  Janus rolls his eyes fondly but his gaze softens as he takes in the room. It has been quiet. A good kind of quiet.

  He doesn’t know it didn’t happen on purpose.

  That Roman isn’t being quiet on purpose.

  He didn’t do it on purpose.

  Because when has anything Roman’s done on purpose been right?)

——————————————

Thomas sighs, his hands on his hips, as Patton and Logan begin to bicker for the third time in the past ten minutes. Across from him, Virgil is fidgeting uncomfortably as his gaze flicks back and forth between Janus and Thomas.

  “Guys, are you really not going to do anything about this?”

  “Oh, yes, because that’s how we solve every problem, just make me deal with it.”

  “Okay, first of all, I said you guys meaning you and Thomas, second—“

  “Oh, here we go, another lecture, oh goodie.”

  “That is not what I’m doing—“

  And now Virgil and Janus are fighting too. Thomas resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. Barely. Just barely. He shakes his head. The Sides aren’t normally this hard to manage, typically it’s just a matter of everyone actually understanding what’s going on and then one of them will propose a solution and they’ll all wrangle it around from angle to angle until he finally gets a workable one.

  Not this time.

  He’s not sure why nothing’s working, but everything that’s been proposed just sounds like another problem, not a solution. Why coming up with ideas is so hard today, he doesn’t—

  Wait.

  Has…has Roman said anything today?

  Thomas glances at Roman. Roman stands where he always does, watching the others with a strangely blank look on his face. Thomas frowns. Roman…Roman doesn’t look great. He looks paler than usual, his face is a little poofy.

  “Roman?”

  Roman looks at him, his brow quirked.

  “Do you…have any ideas?”

  Roman’s face falls and he swallows. Thomas’s frown deepens when Roman shakes his head sadly.

  “Hey, wait,” Virgil says, turning to face him, “Thomas is right. You haven’t said anything all meeting.”

  “You have been remarkably quiet. Especially for you.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “Have you not come up with a single idea?”

  “Okay, guys, wait—“ Thomas tries.

  “No wonder we aren’t making any progress,” Virgil cries, throwing up his hands, “it’s because the guy whose job it is to come up with ideas isn’t doing anything!”

  “That…would explain it.”

  “Come on, kiddo,” Patton says, looking at Roman, “you must have something.”

  Roman just shakes his head again.

  “Of course he doesn’t want to share it with us,” Virgil growls, “he’s probably waiting for us to figure it out for him because he’s still mad.”

  Patton sighs, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. Even Thomas wants to flush from the disappointment in his voice. “I understand being mad at us, kiddo—I’m not happy about it, but I understand it—but taking it out on Thomas? That’s really selfish of you.”

  Roman flinches, his hand going to his chest. Janus rolls his eyes.

  “Oh, Roman doesn’t know what that word means, remember? He’s all about selflessness, not selfishness, no, not a single selfish bone in his body, Roman.”

  Virgil snorts.

  “I am also disappointed,” Logan sighs, “but not surprised. But seriously, Roman, I think this temper tantrum of yours has gone on long enough.”

  “Watch out, he’s gonna say it’s not a temper tantrum.”

  Is…is this how they are to Roman all the time? Thomas stares at the other Sides in confusion. Has he just never noticed how mean they are to each other before? Or is this…new? He looks back at Roman and opens his mouth to say something when he notices Roman’s hand is still on his chest.

  And…moving.

  His thumb is tucked against the top of his fist and Thomas watches as it circles once, twice, and stops. Once, twice, and stops.

  “Roman,” he says softly, cutting through the growing voices of the others, “Roman, why are you sorry?”

  “What?”

  “Thomas, what’re you—“

  “That—this—“ Thomas makes the sign himself—“that’s the ASL for ‘sorry.’ Remember?”

  Logan looks back at Roman who does it again. “So it is. But—Roman, why are you communicating using ASL, which none of us are fluent in? Most of us aren’t fluent in, my apologies, Janus—“ Janus waves him off— “why not just say that you’re sorry?”

  “Roman,” Thomas asks, still quiet, “can you speak?”

  They all watch in silence as Roman slowly shakes his head.

  “What do you mean you can’t speak?”

  “Probably just that, Virgil.” Logan adjusts his glasses.

  Thomas spares him a glance before refocusing on Roman. “Are you okay, buddy?”

  Roman looks at the ground. Virgil watches him for a moment before leaning to Logan.

  “I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no.’”

  “How long has this been happening?”

  “Yes or no questions, guys,” Thomas reminds, “and…not too many.”

  “Right.” Logan takes a breath and when he speaks again, Thomas furrows his brow at how much softer Logan sounds. “Roman, has this been happening since the beginning of the meeting?”

  Roman nods.

  “Has it been happening for longer?”

  Another nod.

  “How long,” Virgil asks warily, only for Logan to hiss ‘yes or no’ in his ear, “right, um…has it been happening for longer than a day?”

  Roman nods, studiously avoiding eye contact. Janus bites back a curse.

  “Roman, have you not been able to speak since the wedding?”

  When Roman nods again, Thomas has to bite back a curse of his own. Virgil doesn’t.

  “Fuck, Princey, why didn’t you tell one of us?”

  “With what words,” Janus spits, “and who’s to say we would’ve believed him?”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs, reaching for him, “I’m so sorry.”

  At this, Roman shakes his head furiously.

  “Hey, hey, easy, Princey, it’s okay, what was that for?”

  “He seemed to really dislike the idea of Patton apologizing…”

  “What were you apologizing for, Roman,” Thomas asks instead, “before we—before?”

  Roman nods.

  “Yeah, bud, you were apologizing, do you remember what for?”

  A nod.

  “He’s saying ‘yes,’” Virgil murmurs.

  “Yeah, we got that.”

  “No, I mean—“ Virgil sighs— “you asked him what he was apologizing for and he’s saying ‘yes.’ That means anything you could ask him if he’s apologizing for, he’d say yes.”

  “So…” Logan looks back and forth between them. “He’s apologizing for…everything?”

  “Yeah.”

  And Roman nods.

“Oh, sweetie,” Janus says softly and whoa, that’s…unexpected, “you don’t need to do that.”

  Roman’s mouth hardens stubbornly as if to say yes I do.

  “You can’t be blamed for not being able to speak, Roman,” Logan says gently, “it’s not your fault.”

  “Kiddo,” Patton calls when Roman still looks unsure, “are you mad at us?”

  Roman’s head snaps up and he shakes his head frantically. Patton holds out his arms to soothe him.

  “And we’re not mad at you, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Let’s call it here,” Thomas says, giving Roman a nod, “we can figure this out later.”

  “What do you need, Roman,” Virgil asks, “how can we help?”

  “That’s…definitely not a yes or no question.”

  Thomas frowns. Then he reaches out a hand.

  “Hey!” Remus pops up, manic grin and all. “What’s shakin’, bacon?”

  “I do not think bacon shakes, Remus.”

  “Sir Francis Bacon?”

  “What?”

  “You two gotta stop watching Phineas and Ferb,” Virgil mutters.

  Remus just grins and turns, freezing when he sees Roman. Thomas blinks and Remus’s entire demeanor changes.

  “Ro-Bro? Roro, you okay?”

  Roman looks up at him. Remus lays a hand on his shoulder.

  “You nonverbal?”

  Roman nods. Remus wraps his arms around Roman’s waist.

  “I’m taking this,” he announces, “bye!”

  Thomas chuckles as Remus sinks out, Roman in tow, even as Patton and Virgil rush after them going ‘let us help!’ Logan just rolls his eyes fondly and follows them. Thomas catches hold of Janus’s cloak before he can leave too.

  “Are you guys always like that to Roman?”

  Janus gives him a strange look. “You mean are you always like that to Roman?”

  “What?”

  “We’re you, Thomas,” Janus says bluntly, “we’re the physical manifestation of what goes on in your head. Or have you forgotten that your main way of problem-solving is to summon metaphysical color-coded versions of yourself and talk to them?”

  “Your point?”

  “The way we act is how you see us. We behave how our respective parts of you behave.” Janus gives him a look. “If you think we’re being mean to Roman, what does that say about how you feel about your Ego or your Creativity?”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

  “Take better care of yourself,” Janus says, softer now, “and it might surprise you.”

  “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

  “I think,” Janus says, looking far too smug as he pulls away, “you mean that you can’t help yourself.”

  Thomas scoffs as Janus disappears but after a few seconds, his words start to make sense. He turns to grab his laptop and opens it, finding a blank document and watching the cursor blink.

  The others might not be able to listen to Roman, but he always can.

  “Alright,” he mutters to himself, “let’s see what Roman’s got to say.”

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[husbandohunter]

Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

Something angsty pls? Thank you!

Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?

(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)

Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death

(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :> 

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

You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition. 

Why?

The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow. 

"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"

You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you. 

I…don't quite understand…

Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.

What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?

And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart. 

He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."

At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.

"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.

“I'm sorry.”

…

What is love?

Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.

I see, love is conditional.

Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted.  Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies. 

They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.

Unconditional love only exists in dreams.

Or so you thought to believe.

One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.

Red eyes.

It was the first time that someone had looked your way.

Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled. 

Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow. 

"My, how pleasantly surprising."

While the other part was stained with black cinders.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.

"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"

He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"

"And if I may ask why?"

"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."

You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"

"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."

"You know my name?"

"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."

He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."

“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."

You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."

"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine." 

"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"

Why am I telling him this?

"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."

"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.

"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."

"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."

"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."

"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."

"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.

"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."

A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."

Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."

When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.

Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…

A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.

Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),

I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.

Bien à vous,

H.

"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."

And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.

-------

It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.

"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.

"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"

"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"

You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"

"Ah!"

Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."

You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."

"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."

The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.

"Go on. I'm listening."

And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.

From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.

"Will you write to me again?"

The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."

Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.

You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart. 

The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own  fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.

Anything.

"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."

Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.

"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."

"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."

But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers. 

"No!"

"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."

"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.

"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."

"Clement you don't understand!"  Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"

Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!" 

"Tch."

An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.

"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"

While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass. 

"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"

I can't live without him.

I can't live without him.

I can't live without him.

Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life. 

And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.

-------

"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.

"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"

"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"

"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."

Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.

Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.

He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger. 

Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.

"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."

"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"

Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"

A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."

"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."

Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?

Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.

"Are you scared?"

Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.

You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."

"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."

-----------

The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.

Ha. Serves him right.

Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.

With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.

"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."

Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?

As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.

Was it worth it?

You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted. 

The inheritance.

Their attention.

But most of all, him.

And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize  you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort. 

"You're nothing without me."

Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.

"G-hka--k..-"

"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"

You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.

"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."

His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.

Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom.  That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.

Because you would do anything for him.

You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.

Right?

…

Please come back.

Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence. 

Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie. 

"Come back to me…Hector."

Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.

A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.

Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.

Worthless. It's who I am.

And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.

(Crack).

Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.

(Crack. Crack).

But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?

(Crack).

Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along.

Dottore...no, Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.

It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.

"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"

Everything was worthless.

You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.

There was only one thing left to do. 

------

"Ugh, where is it?!"

It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.

"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"

Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.

"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."

Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-

An intruder!

Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.

"What in the abyss...?!"

Except it wasn't dark.

"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."

Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!

"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."

"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."

The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.

"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."

It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.

Hector.

Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."

"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"

"Enough."

Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.

"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."

As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"

Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."

Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.

"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."

"...What do you mean?"

You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.

"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.

" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.

The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"

Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.

"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”

Just like how you broke me.

Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.

Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.

Ah, this cannot be death.