#i have every right to be angry at you for repeatedly overstepping even after i tryed to be nice and warn you

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

.

[harrysweasleys]

speechless // h.p

Summary: Can you do a Harry Potter x reader where reader is exactly like Richie Tozier and she defends him from Draco and his Slytherins? And Harry falls in love with her from then and everyone is teasing him?

Warnings: language ofc!!!

Word Count: 6k 

A/N: ok first off I cannot express my love for Richie Tozier enough. he’s a precious baby and I love him. also I’m so close to my next hundred! thank you all! (gif isn’t mine) xxxx

—

“Oi, mum sent me a package!”

Ron peeled open the box in front of him, repeatedly hitting Hermione in the ribs as he ripped the paper off the box, his face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

“I hope it’s a wig,” you piped up, “Because something really has to change about your hair.”

Ron glared at you, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor and kicking it under the table, “Ha, hilarious.”

He continued to rip at the box, eventually managing to tear it open. His eyes widened, his smile falling shortly after.

“Oh, is it a picture of yourself?” you pursed your lips and nodded condescendingly, “That’s the only thing that could have made you look so depressed.”

Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, however Ron kept a solemn expression as he took out the contents of the box, which happened to be a very old pair of dress robes — the collar was off-white and frilly and the thick sleeves were clearly moth-eaten. You put a hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, not wanting to make Ron’s mood any more sour than it was at that moment.

“Mum sent me...a dress?” Ron’s voice was defeated as he stood up, holding the dress robes at their full length.

“Wow,” you struggled to hold your laughter back, “I didn’t think anything could get worse than your hair but that’s awful.”

“Is there a bonnet?” Harry joined in on the teasing and reached into the package, taking out what appeared to just be a frilly mess, “Aha!” You grinned at Harry’s pleaser reaction.

Ron scowled at the two of you, walking away from the table and approaching his younger sister, “Ginny, these must be for you.”

Hermione started giggling, catching Ron’s attention. He peered back at her, silently asking what her problem was.

“They’re not for Ginny, they’re for you, they’re dress robes.”

Ron’s face lost all colour, making the situation a million times more amusing for you. Harry continued teasing his friend, Ron becoming more agitated by the minute. You tuned out the conversation where Hermione explained to Ron that they were dress robes, and focused on the breakfast plate in front of you, loving how every now and then Harry would nudge you and make another joke.

Ron stuffed the robes back in the box, wanting to hide them from the eyes of fellow students. Most of the Gryffindor table had seen them by now, everyone had a good laugh, but the last thing Ron wanted was to catch anyone else’s attention.

So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.

“Weasel, what was that?”

The four of you turned your attention towards Draco Malfoy, who sauntered over to your section of the Gryffindor table with his goonies by his side.

You immediately fought the urge to stand up and punch him in the face — a natural urge when around Malfoy.

“I guess considering how poor your family is, those awful dress robes are all you could afford,” Malfoy smirked at Ron’s flushed face, which was now facing the floor.

You stood up, “Oi, we didn’t ask for a conversation with an arrogant asshole today.”

Malfoy’s eyes shot daggers at you, Crabbe and Goyle flexing their ‘muscles’ as if trying to warn you, “How dare you—”

“—talk to me, yeah, I’ve heard the speech before,” you cut him off, crossing your arms across your chest, “Now, leave, thanks. Seeing your face made me lose my appetite.”

As if rendered speechless, Malfoy rolled his eyes and stormed off, followed by his two shadows. You smirked and sat back down, continuing to pick at your breakfast silently while Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled at you.

“What’re you all staring at?” you asked, not bothering to look up.

Ron shook his head, “I reckon I’ve never seen Malfoy speechless before.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s a gift, I leave people speechless.”

The three of them laughed, the conversation going back to normal as you finished off your breakfast, mentally preparing for another loooong day of classes.

— —

“There’s gonna be a ball?” you scoffed, turning to Hermione wide a bewildered expression, “We’re expected to dress up? Oh, the nightmare.”

She tried to stifle her smile so McGonagall wouldn’t call the two of you out, “It’s not horrible, is it? I think it’s about time we do something fancier here.” She glanced quickly over at Ron before turning her attention back to you. But, being as attentive as always, you caught her not-so-subtle glance.

You widened your eyes, faking a gasp, “You already know who you want to go with, don’t you?”

She shushed you quickly, trying to make sure no one heard your outburst. You could see the blush rise to her cheeks, already giving you the answer you needed. You knew damn well she had feelings for Ron, but she really did try her hardest to hide them.

“Y/N! Don’t just be blurting out stuff like that,” she forced a neutral expression, “And no. I don’t know who I want to go with. Nor does it matter.”

You nodded, not believing her, “Whatever answer floats your boat, I guess.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Well, who do you want to go with then?”

You turned away from her, eyes subconsciously darting towards Harry — who was so zoned out he didn’t even notice your glance — and turned back to Hermione, “No one. No one’s good enough, of course.”

She rolled her eyes, “I call your bluff.”

“Well call whatever bluff you want,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and turning away from her to face McGonagall, “Can’t fight the truth.”

She didn’t press the subject any further, but continued to peer at you through the corner of her eye, thankfully missing every time you looked over at Harry.

You couldn’t deny, Harry Potter was a catch. He was cute, fun to be around, and had recently fought off a dragon. I mean, the whole package, right? It wasn’t hard for you to develop a crush, the feelings came so naturally.

However, you were fairly certain the dark haired boy didn’t feel at all the same about you. He never showed interest, nor did he go out of his way to be with you. It stung a little when you’d catch him watching the perfect little Cho Chang make her way through the Great Hall, but you weren’t going to let it bring you down. He wasn’t yours, after all.

“Now, next time we meet I will be giving you dance lessons—”

You had finally tuned back in to what McGonagall was saying, trying your best to seem as if you hadn’t just floated off.

“—So, the rest of your class is a free period.”

You stood up hastily, grabbing Hermione’s wrist and walking over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, the two of them standing up and grumbling about dancing.

“Boy, oh, boy,” you let go of Hermione’s wrist and placed your hands on your waist, “A dance, huh? What’d ya think about that, Ronald? You gonna ask anyone?”

Ron’s face went blank and Hermione stomped discreetly on your foot, telling you that you had overstepped your boundaries. You hoped she’d forgive you for this.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, looking between you and Hermione. You were destined to set those two up, nothing was going to stop you.

“You sure? C’mon, handsome lad like you’s gotta find a date. And you Hermione, you’re, ya know, smart and fun, don’t you want to bring a date as well?” you grinned, knowing damn well how uncomfortable you were making them. They both shifted awkwardly, stealing glances back and forth, none of them knowing what to say next. Ron’s feelings for Hermione were just as obvious, really.

“Well, I’ve made things weird, haven’t I?” you smirked, placing your arm around Harry’s neck. You ignored the way goosebumps formed at the contact, choosing to believe it was from how warm his skin was.

“Yes, you have, thanks,” Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at you.

“Apologies,” you bowed slightly, “Let’s leave them be, Harry.”

Harry, laughing and sharing a confused expression with Ron, followed you out. You took your arm away from him, stealing a glance back to see that Ron and Hermione were still standing in awkward silence, and turned into the hallway.

“Nice work, maybe they’ll finally work up their courage,” Harry grinned at you, nodding approvingly at your set up, “You’re a natural matchmaker, Y/N.”

“See, they just needed a push, is all—oof,” you were cut off, bumping forcefully into a body of someone much larger than you. Your sight went dark, the only thing you knew was that the person tended immediately upon impact.

You pulled away, noticing the deathly glare Crabbe was now sending you.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you sighed in relief, “It went dark for a second, I thought I saw the end.”

Harry coughed to hide his laughter, pulling lightly on your sleeve to tell to you walk away. His tugging only became more aggressive once Malfoy stepped out from behind Crabbe, the same pissed off expression as always laced into his features.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy,” Harry glared at him, the tension between the two of them rising significantly in a short amount of time. He let go of your sleeve, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders.

“It was unfortunate, you know, that the dragon didn’t kill you,” Malfoy said lowly, clearly loving the fact that his friends laughed at his comment. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure what they had found funny. Was it a joke? What had he said that was so funny?

Harry rolled his eyes, motioning his head for you to follow him, and so you did so without question.

“You know, I was mistaken,” Malfoy’s voice echoed down the corridor, making both of you turn around once more. You were feeling both bored and angry — it was quite a strange mix. You were used to Malfoy’s taunts, having sat by while all of your friends — you included — fell victim, but a part of you particularly hated the way he spoke to Harry.

“Oh, yeah? About what? Please, for Merlin’s sake, enlighten us,” you snapped back, “We’re just dying to know.”

Malfoy’s eyes scanned your face before approaching the the both of you one more. Harry’s shoulder was pressed up against yours and you could feel his ragged his breathing had become. Malfoy always found a way under his skin and it bothered you a great deal.

“About Potter, I actually hope you do make it to the end, it’ll make your death that much more bittersweet,” Malfoy sneered, “For those who care, that is.”

“Gee, I always believed we Gryffindors were petty but that’s a whole new low,” you smirked, taking a step forward after pushing Harry back, telling him to let you handle the situations, “You know, I’ve come to a conclusion about you, Malfoy. The reason you’ve never said anything logical in your life is because you waste your breath insulting the people that you think care about your opinion.”

“Excuse me?” you had never seen Malfoy looked more appalled than in that moment. It was rather amusing.

“Was my English not easy enough for you to understand? Point proven,” you sighed dramatically, turning away from him and nudging Harry in the shoulder, “Oh, one more thing, Malfoy.”

You turned back to face him, “suck my dick.”

And with that, you turned back and walked away with Harry by your side, neither of you wanting to turn and gauge what Malfoy’s reaction would be.

Once you two were around the corner, Harry turned to you with wide eyes and his mouth broken into a wide smile. If this was the reaction you’d get for shutting down Malfoy, you’d gladly do it any day.

“That was epic, Y/N!” his hands grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly, “I’ve never actually had anyone stand up for me like that before, what made you do it?”

“Oh — I dunno,” you shrugged, feeling quite proud of yourself, “I stick up for my friends, I guess.” Friends. How you wished Harry could be more than just your friend.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, taking his hands off of your shoulders and shaking his head in disbelief, “You know, I think I found the perfect friend in you. I love Ron and all but that was something else...”

As he trailed off, you noticed the way his eyes darted between your lips and your eyes. Although that should make you weak in the knees, a part of you instinctively pulled away, flushing brightly at the encounter. You told yourself it was probably just the heat of the moment, the thrill of the comeback.

“Eh, no biggie,” you shrugged, “Asshole needs to be put in his place sometimes.”

You nodded awkwardly and began to continue in the path you were headed, until you noticed Harry was no longer by your side, still standing rooted where you two were not five seconds ago.

“Harry, you—,”

“I’m good, yeah,” he cut you off quietly, a light smile on his lips, “You’re the best.”

“I’ve been told,” you grinned, trying not to let his words get to you. He chuckled, walking forwards and standing next to you, eyes still staring into yours with intensity you didn’t think you could bear.

Awkwardly looking away, your cheeks heating up, you motioned your head down the hall, “We should get going before Hermione and Ron come after me like an angry mob.”

Harry nodded, eyes wide and turning away from you, shaking his head like he was clearing his thoughts, “Good point.”

And so the two of you walked off towards the common room, the silence tense and unsure, but not comfortable. Did Harry really mean what he said? Calling you ‘the best’ and all? It was flattering, especially coming from him, but did he mean it the way that you wanted to take it?

Fighting a mental battle, you stayed quiet until you reached the common room. You flopped down on the couch, nearly being hit by a firework that Fred and George were trying out in the corner of the room.

“How long do you think it’ll be before—,”

The portrait door swung open and a very flustered Ron and Hermione stumbled in, both looking tremendously irritated and uncomfortable.

Hermione stormed up to you, dragging you up by your collar, “You and I need to talk. Right now.”

Shocked by her outburst, you nodded, “If you wanted to get me alone you could have just asked—,” noticing her expression, she wasn’t in the joking mood, “Yikes, sorry, okay, let’s go upstairs.”

She continued to drag you up, the anger fueling her sudden burst of strength. You did feel kind of bad about leaving her and Ron, but it wasn’t like you openly said anything about her feelings towards him.

Upon reaching your dorm room and noticing it was empty, she shut the door and pointed a finger at you accusingly, “You. Why would you do that? That was humiliating!”

“Oh come on,” you sat on the edge of you bed and brought your legs up, sitting criss-crossed, “It couldn’t have been that bad. Did he ask you to the ball?”

“No!” she seethed, sitting down on hers as well, “All he said was that he indeed noticed I am a girl.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “Four years in and he finally notices? I knew he wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the chandelier, but wow.”

As if she agreed with your comment, the anger seemed to disappear from her face. She rushed off her bed and sat next to you, shoving you over slightly so she had space on the tiny bed.

“I think he’s already got his eye on someone. It’s not fun.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. Hermione’s eyes shot up, giving you a quizzing look as you clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Oh! You like someone!” she grinned, lifting her hand to poke you in the shoulder, “You know about my feelings, I need to know about yours.”

“I don’t have feelings,” you defended, fighting back a blush and taking your hand away from your mouth, “Don’t turn this on me.”

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” she smirked. You scolded yourself for having been obvious. Of course, the ever-so intuitive Hermione would catch onto who your crush was. It was an embarrassing attempt to hide it on your part.

“Listen, Hermione,” you pointed a finger at her, “Tell anyone and during the next dinner, they’ll be serving your head on a silver platter.”

She giggled, ignoring your threat and crossing her fingers over your heart, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Squinting at her, you figured you’d be able to trust her. She had been your friend for years and kept all your previous secrets. She might be able to keep this one as well.

“Fine,” you gave in, throwing your head back in frustration, “You��re right. It’s Harry.”

She gave you a toothy grin, wiggling her eyebrows, “Now, I have to set you two up.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you shot back, pointing your finger and shaking your head, “You’re gonna take his deep-rooted love for Cho away and, well, that’s just plain rude.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s barely ever spoken to her. It’s just an appearance thing,” she waved her hand, brushing off your comment, “Besides, I heard Lavender Brown say that Cho and Cedric Diggory are hanging out.”

Not overly shocked by the information, you leaned back onto your pillows, “Good for her. Diggory is a right catch if I say so myself.”

Hermione smacked your knee, “Sit up! Listen to me, you don’t need to pout, let’s just go down there and I’ll work my magic.”

You glared at her, not utterly convinced she was able to do much, but you followed her back downstairs nonetheless, figuring it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen was that Harry would not feel the same, distance himself from you, then you’d lose Ron and Hermione as well because they were his friends first and then you’d be left alone to suffer in self despair while they galavanted in friendship—

“Hey, Harry!” Hermione greeted a little too cheerfully once you two entered the seating area of the common room. Already embarrassed by her attempt, you didn’t notice the way Ron and Harry immediately stopped talking upon your entrance, sharing a look that could only mean ‘don’t say anything.’

“Er — hi, Hermione,” Harry smiled awkwardly.

You sat down on the couch next to Ron, who was eyeing Hermione with awe. He was so smitten, it was a miracle no one else noticed the way he looked at her.

“Ron, you’re pathetic,” you leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Ask her. Don’t make me threaten you into doing it.”

Ron shot you a look, “Not bloody likely.”

You turned away, shrugging, and stared into the fireplace. Harry was seated on your other side, not saying much, but the way he kept looking over at you made you think that he did actually have something he wanted to say.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, Cho is going to go to the ball with Cedric,” Hermione said, pretending it was no biggie but checking over repeatedly to see Harry’s reaction.

Upon noticed he didn’t say anything, she leaned closer to him, “Did you hear me Harry? Cho’s taken.”

Harry looked at her, eyes darting back and forth between you, Ron and her, “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Guess that means you can ask someone else,” Hermione grinned, leaning back.

You scolded yourself for telling her. She was being ridiculously obvious and it pained you to see her efforts. Did she think this was going to anywhere?

“Er — I guess,” Harry shrugged, glancing over at you for a millisecond before turning back towards the fire, “I guess I’ll wait and see how things go.”

Your heart did a slight flip. He didn’t mention having any other girl in mind, maybe that meant he didn’t. Which still gave you a shot, technically. Even if he didn’t see you that way just yet, maybe you’d have to turn on the charm. Flirt, make him see that you were actually interested.

Granted, flirting was never really your area of expertise. You weren’t good at it, nor did you really have any experience. But maybe, just maybe, with Hermione’s strange help, you’d be able to find a way to get him to notice you.

Plan Flirt with Harry was now in action.

— —

Over the next two weeks, things had been going relatively well. Hermione had toned down her strategy and was making you seem like much more of a natural.

You and Harry had even shared a few lingering touches, whether they be your hands touching at the table during dinner, or his elbow touching yours when you were sat in the common room. Nothing overly intimate, but enough to send sparks flying through your body at the feeling.

You had also noticed the way Ron and Harry seemed to drop whatever conversation they were having when you entered the room. Sure, they could have been discussing Hermione and Ron’s feeble attempts at his own flirting, but the way Harry would glance at you during meals and classes sent your head spiralling with the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were talking about you.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it was hard not to when the ball was getting closer by the day and neither you, nor Harry, had a date and he still hadn’t shown interest in anyone else.

“He asked me!” Hermione stumbled into the dorm room in excitement, causing you to jump out of your skin and nearly drop the book you were reading.

“Ron?” you grinned, sitting up, “Oh, that’s great, Hermione! I knew—,”

“Not Ron,” she rolled her eyes, flopping down on your bed, on top of your legs, “Viktor Krum.”

“Ohhhh,” your eyes widened, “You go, girl. Have you seen his jawline? I’d let him cut me with it, hot ass—”

Hermione laughed, pretending to shoot you a glare, “That’s my date you’re talking about.”

“Right, sorry,” you joined in on her laughter, closing your book and placing it on your night table, “But I really am happy for you.”

“Thanks,” her cheeks went pink as she turned to face you, “Can we go sit in the common room? It’s just Ron and Harry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you sighed, flicking the warm blanket off of you and following her downstairs. She was radiating joy, and even though it wasn’t Ron that had ended up asking her, you could tell she was really looking forward to this date.

“Just ask her,” you heard Ron snap quietly once you two started making your way down the stairs, “I see the way she looks at you.”

“I can’t!” Harry snapped back, trying to keep his voice down, “She can do better anyways.”

“Yeah, bloody right,” Ron scoffed, “You fought a dragon.”

“It’s not the same, Ron, I— shush, I hear footsteps.”

The two of you walked into the room, noticing once again how Harry and Ron dropped their conversation upon landing sight on you two. So, Harry already had plans on asking someone to go to the ball. It hurt, you weren’t going to deny it. Of course he had someone else. He was Harry Potter, for goodness sake. Charming, funny, loyal, and brave. All the qualities to make a girl swoon.

“What are you two ladies gossiping about?” you pretended to be fine as you sat down on the opposite couch, placing your hands in your lap and trying to steady your now irregular heartbeat. Jealousy was slowly coursing through your veins and you hated it.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, a fake look of innocence on his face. Ron nodded along, neither of them being very convincing.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Ron smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging Harry in the ribs. Harry, glaring at his friend, gave him a nudge right back. You chose to ignore the comment, focusing more on the look Hermione was giving you.

“Hi, Ron,” you replied back, not sure why he was grinning while glancing back and forth between you and Harry. He was always very strange.

Hermione sat down on the armrest of your chair, crossing her arms and nudging you in the side, telling you to start doing something.

“Harry, are you trying to figure out the second task?” you blurted out, not sure what you could have said that wouldn’t make the situation weird.

“Of course,” Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes avoiding yours, “I think I’ve almost got it.”

You grinned, “Oh, that’s great. I knew you’d be able to figure it out.”

Hermione seemed more pleased by your comment, leaning back and letting the situation unfold.

“Harry’s real smart, you know,” Ron nudged Harry in the side again, a teasing expression on his face, “One of the smartest.”

“Thanks,” Harry glared at Ron, speaking with gritted teeth before turning back to you, his face softening, “I had help, though.”

“Modesty isn’t gonna make you win, y’know,” you smirked, admiring his honesty, “Take credit. Be proud of yourself.”

Harry’s cheeks were pink and he brushed the hair out of his forehead, “Thanks, Y/N.”

You could tell he was flustered, but you figured it was probably because of the compliments. Harry never really knew how to reply to them — you had noticed that over the years. For someone who was the bravest person you had ever met, he sure didn’t know how to deal with people.

“Oh, Ron, Ginny wanted to talk to us,” Hermione sat up quickly, clapping her hands together. Ron raised an eyebrow, questioning her silently, before standing up.

“She did?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yes! She did,” Hermione sent a discreet wink in your direction before turning to Harry, “We’ll be back shortly!”

“Well, Y/N, Harry, be safe you two,” Ron picked up on what Hermione was doing, smirking as he made his way to exit the room, “Have fun!”

Harry glanced at Ron, his eyes wide. The two boys shared a look before Hermione dragged the ginger boy out the portrait hole behind her.

“Head on a silver platter, Hermione!” you called after her, your heart beating violently, “Head on a silver platter!”

The portrait swung shut and the room went dead silent. The only thing you could hear was the thump of your heart and the sudden nervousness that spread throughout your body at being alone with Harry.

You wanted to seize the chance and make a move, but you had just heard him talk about asking a girl to the ball, so was it a good idea? Probably not.

But as you looked at him, watching the way the flames flickered across his face and the way his messy hair stuck out in different directions, it took everything you had in you to not rush over there and tell him everything.

“Can I tell you something? Don’t tell Ron and Hermione,” he piped up quietly, turning to face you, the blue of his eyes making you weak. You were thankful he spoke first, it prevented you from spilling your guts and making a fool out of yourself.

“Sure,” you replied, getting up and walking towards the couch he was sitting on, making yourself comfortable on the opposite end.

He sighed deeply, “I haven’t figured out the egg.”

“You haven’t?” you spoke, shock evident on your face. You felt bad for acting so surprised, but you couldn’t help it. He had seemed so confident when he told you he had.

He shook his head silently, shrugging, “I don’t know what to do with it.”

You blinked rapidly, turning over to face the golden egg that was sitting on the table, “Why didn’t you want to tell the others? Hermione could probably figure it out.”

He turned to you, face pale, “No, don’t tell them. I just thought I’d tell you, I don’t know, I trust you.”

You fought back a grin, hiding your smile behind your hair so you didn’t look like an idiot. He probably didn’t mean it as a compliment but you took it as such.

“Well, I’ll help you, then,” you nodded, holding out your pinky, “I know we’re not children, but I pinky promise.”

He grinned, linking your pinky with his. For someone who had been through so much, he really did have soft skin. It was annoying. Pleasant, but annoying.

“I’m glad I have you around, Y/N.”

His gaze was so intense and wholesome that you struggled to hold back.

“The sappiness is gross, but I’m glad to be around,” you beamed, pulling your pinky away and turning back to your corner of the couch, leaning your head back and enjoying the softness of the cushion, your mind going back to the conversation you had heard between him and Ron. Who was he planning on asking?

Now was your chance — now or never.

“So — uh — who are you asking to the ball?” you asked, so silently Harry had to lean closer to you to hear it.

He stammered, “Oh — er — I dunno, yet. There’s a girl I have in mind but I don’t think she sees me that way.”

Your heart sank, but you turned to face him with a neutral expression, “I call bullshit. Who wouldn’t want to go with you?”

He seemed to think over your words for a second, a glimpse of fondness on his features, but he turned away and shook his head, “She’s different.”

“How so?” you regretted it as soon as you asked, knowing Harry was about to gush about some girl when you wished more than anything it was you he’d be gushing about.

“She’s bold,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Not afraid to stick up for herself or the people she cares about. She’s smart, too, always has an answer for everything. A good friend — the best, really. And I know she’d be better off with someone who wasn’t me.”

You nodded, processing his words and trying to think of the girl he could be talking about. It completely crushed you, hearing him speak so highly of someone, but you knew that if anything, he’d be the one better off without you.

“Why’d you think that?” you began twiddling with your thumbs, avoiding his eyes, “Did she tell you or is it an assumption?”

“She didn’t tell me,” he quickly replied, shaking his head, “But she’s got such an incredible spirit, I’m worried I’d ruin it. You know, it’s funny. I always looked at her like she was just a friend, just someone that I’d got lucky to have around, but then one day, she did something, and it kind of clicked. After that, I couldn’t look at her the same. She was so much more beautiful, so much more radiant and lovely and I knew from then on that she was just... different to me. And I tried to tell myself she was never going to see me that way but the more I was around her, the harder it was.”

You bit your cheek, trying your best to hold back your oncoming emotions.

“Well, she’s lucky,” your voice was weak, shaky even, as you turned to face him.

His smile was clear as day and the love struck expression was still on his face as he turned to look at you, causing you to speak up one more, “What did she do that made you change your mind about her?”

The smile vanished from his face and the awkward expression returned. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck and then through his hair, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.

He dropped his hand and faced you, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “She stuck up for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words echoing in your mind. You nearly missed his hand reaching across the couch and grabbing yours, linking his fingers and running his thumb across your skin.

Had he been talking about you? It would make sense, you had stuck up for him against Malfoy a few weeks back, but had it really impacted him to the point where he was falling for you?

You didn’t want to complain, but you couldn’t believe it. You thought back to what he said, about seeing you as a friend and then as something more, that you were different and beautiful, even. It was nearly impossible to believe him just off of his words, you had embarrassingly dreamt of him admitting his feelings and it felt too good to be true, but his gentle tough and soft gaze grounded you to reality. He was telling you the truth.

“I’m talking about you, if you hadn’t caught on,” he tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace, his nerves evident in his shaking hand and pale complexion.

You still couldn’t forumulate the words to say. For years you had always been the one to make a comeback, leaving others speechless — but now, you were the one speechless.

“Me?” you stared at him with wide eyes, heart violently thumping against your rib cage, trying to burst out and reach his, “Me?”

He retracted his hand rather quickly, “Unless — you know, unless you don’t feel the same.”

“No, wait,” you reached across and grabbed his hand, finally finding the courage to flash him a smile, “I do actually. I do feel the same.”

Relief flooded over him, his face regaining colour and his shoulders slouching back, “Oh, thank Merlin.”

The joy that had spread through you was indescribable. You didn’t think there could be a better feeling. Your heart seemed to swell and the tingling sensation in your fingers was everlasting. It was like a high you didn’t want to come down from. God bless Hermione and her intuition of leaving you two alone.

Plan Flirt with Harry had been a success.

— —

Hermione and Ron had quickly been informed of the confession between you two, both of them saying they had called it years back. Which didn’t make sense considering you didn’t have feelings for each other years back, but you let them enjoy their moment.

You had helped Harry try and figure out his second task, as promised, spending many a nights up late in the common room and telling each other things you wouldn’t tell someone if you were ‘just friends.’ You were having the time of your life, really. He had grown comfortable being intimate — holding your hand on the way to class or pecking your cheek in the Great Hall. (Hermione and Ron teased you two to no ends about it.)

Eventually, Harry had asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball — which you responded with ‘well, duh.’ So, as the night of the dance came around — you were actually looking forward to it now — you had gotten ready with Hermione and strolled down to the Great Hall, ready to finally dance the night away with the boy you had fallen for.

Reaching the stairs, you noticed him and Ron standing at the bottom, both looking out of place. Ron — donning his ugly dress robes — had worked up the courage to ask one of the Patil twins. Which one, you didn’t remember. He had asked her out of desperation, it was rather sad.

“It’s embarrassing to be seen next to you, Ronald,” you tapped him on the shoulder once you arrived at the bottom. He spun around, his face laced with humiliation.

“They’re ancient,” he groaned, lifting his arms to show you the frills.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you,” you winked and ruffled his hair, turning to face Harry.

His eyes scanned you up and down in your dress, but you were too focused on how good he looked to feel at all self conscious. You had only ever really seen him in sweaters and his Gryffindor robes. This was a whole new level of glo-up.

“You look gorgeous,” he grinned, linking his hand with yours and pulling you closer to him, “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You tossed your hair over your shoulder, grinning, “Well, what can I say? I’m a catch.”

“That you are,” he nodded, sticking out his arm for you to take, “We have first dance since I’m Champion.”

You nodded, linking your arm in his and standing by his side. You weren’t exactly a good dancer, but if you had Harry by your side you’d be too focused on him as opposed to the crowd around you.

“Shall we go in then, Champion?” you turned to face him, chin held high.

“We shall,” he replied in the same noble manner, chin up, and began leading you into the ball.

He was well worth the wait.

[mimymomo]

Don’t Forget To Say I Love You Part 2

So, after more than a month, I’m finally back and working on this au. Can I explain my absence? Well...no, no I can’t fully explain this. I saw how popular that first chapter was and I just...wanted to distance myself because I thought there was no way to live up to the hype. But here I am back again with a much lighter chapter this time (well, as light as you can get in this au). 

Thank you Annika for beta-reading this!

First part found here!

...

Rays of golden sunlight bled through the window curtains. The sound of chirping birds and angry honks from frazzled drivers filled the compact apartment despite the windows being sealed and locked. Eurydice laid in her queen-sized bed, head and body bundled under no less than a dozen throw blankets with her back turned to the window, the symphony of the outside ruckus falling on deaf ears. She was too in her head to pay attention to anything that fell outside of the thin walls of her quaint apartment, the rest of the world be damned. 

She laid in darkness, the air hot and positively rank from days of unbrushed morning breath. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in days, three days to be exact. It had been three days since the bar, three days since meeting that boy...Orpheus. Three days since the start of the last six months of her life….

Eurydice poked her head from under the barrage of blankets, the brightest of the light momentarily blinding her. She gazed at the bedroom room wall, counting the cracks and holes and every price of chipped away light beige paint. Littered about the rest of the wall were large sheets of paper, ripped straight from a calendar, held up with long pieces of tape and mismatched thumbtacks. The months spanned from March to September. In the top right corner of each day was a number, scribbled sloppily in red sharpie. 194 on Wednesday, March 6 - three days ago - all the way to 0, Monday, September 16. 

Of course, my last day alive is a fucking Monday...

Three, now four, x’s marked the March 7th, 8th, and 9th in a stingingly sharp red. One hundred and ninety days left. 

She’d skipped the past two days of classes, choosing instead to stay hidden away in her bed. Was there any point in pursuing a degree she would never get to use? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to break loose from the prison that was her apartment. So there she lay, still and dejected, wallowing in her hole so deep and dark she couldn’t manage to escape. 

Anger stirred inside her, turning away from the wall and stuffing a spare pillow over her face. Maybe she would suffocate and blackout? At this point, she wouldn’t care that much. Some time alone, in the dark, without the constant thoughts obnoxiously swimming in her mind would do her nicely. She wanted to scream, kick her legs and throw her arms into the air. Wanted to yank her choppy, unkempt hair straight from her scalp and repeatedly bang her head against the wall. Her life, her plans, all cut short by a chance lapse in careful judgment. She wanted to hate him- that stupid boy from the bar, Orpheus. She wanted to stay in her room and never see him again, just in a way of malicious spite. Curse him for what he unwillingly caused.

Yet.

She wanted to see him. She yearned for his touch that she only previously felt so briefly. Calloused yet, gentle fingers slightly warm to the touch. He was a musician. She pictured him sat by a window, guitar perched in his lap and fingers bandaged from years of strategic strumming. Sheets of half-scribbled scattered around him in a chaotically beautiful mess. She ached to hear his soft, harmonic voice, would he whisper sweet musings in her ear in the middle of restless nights? Sing soothing songs to whisk away the ashen clouds. Was his laugh just as beautiful as his voice? Gods, she could only imagine.

Eurydice removed the pillow from her head, turning back to face the wall, back to all the numbers in red. Back to the dates that mocked her, crossed out and counting down to the end. What do I do? 

What could she do? Death was imminent. A high-speed train coming to town that she would have to board no matter how much she protested. So, what was she going to do until her ticket got punched? Was she going to lay there and wallow at the lost what-ifs and missed chances? Or, what if she gave in to the urge? Follow that nudge in the back of her brain that crawled and scratched at her mind. The urge that was desperate to see that boy again, the boy that condemned her to her fate. The boy with the beautiful hazel eyes, a warm glow and syrupy sweet voice, light and fluttery. 

Come home with me!

Brown hair rumpled and up in every which direction. His eyes pleading, desperation filled irises. The tone of his voice- so hopeful and pitched. He reached for her- a strand of light pulling her through the pitch-black sea. Her own singing siren, would she answer his incessant calls?

With great endeavor, Eurydice pushed her body up and off the bed, the tips of her toes curling and brush against the touch of the old raggedy carpet.  She knew where she had to do, what she had to do.

Slowly stepped into the quaint hole in the wall she called a bathroom, Eurydice flipped up the switch, the angry shine of the fluorescent light bulbs, burning holes in her corneas. She gazed tiredly into the mirror, greeted to puffy, red-rimmed and purple discoloration in and around her eyes, the warm light brown hint of her skin now fading into a pale, sickly color. Jet black hair, greasy from lack of washing, a rumpled mess sticking out from each and every direction. 

Eurydice cringed at the sight, barely recognizing her own reflection after avoiding it for days on end. She reached out to grab the purple toothbrush from off the stained sink, squeezing the remaining mint green paste on top of the bristles, frayed from repeated use. Without thought, she spun around to turn on the shower and began brushing her teeth. Scrubbing each tooth with lackadaisical effort, aiming to prolong the decision she just committed to only moments ago. The bathroom filled with hot, misty steam, the young woman's reflection vanishing from her mirror and her eyes. 

She spat, gargled and stripped, stepping into the shower.

It was hot. Each droplet of scalding hot water burned her skin at the touch. She would be the color of a ripe tomato by the time she left, but Eurydice couldn’t bring herself to care. The stings felt nice after a while. Dipping her head under the raging shower head, Eurydice closed her eyes and breathed. The air thick and moist, water rushing in her nostrils. For the first time in days, the young girl felt some clarity in her head. Under the rushing, low-pressure water, burning the pores of her honey skin, Eurydice’s mind was free. Like a bird released from the confinements of their cage into the embrace of the clear blue sky, she free. Even if it was only for a short few minutes, she lapped every second up. 

    Then, the shower ended.

Clothes were haphazardly thrown on, hair was brushed and twisted into some semblance of purposeful upkeep, and make-up was shakily applied. She nabbed her backpack, wallet, and keys and stalked out the door. Her future awaited. 

…

She stood frozen in her spot, unable to take the next step into the building. She had to do this, she had to see him. She gathered every ounce of courage she could muster and took a step forward, pushing against the door and stepping inside. 

It was dead. Eurydice scanned the room but the only other person she saw was a middle-aged man with graying, salt and pepper pushed back hair who was nursing his bottle of beer close to his lips. No Orpheus anywhere. Damn it. 

As she began to walk closer to the bar counter, a body suddenly popped out from out of the back room. Wispy brown hair, brown leather suspenders and a red bandana- Orpheus. He was carrying a hefty blue crate filled with what Eurydice assumed was bottles of liquor, cautiously taking meticulous, routine steps backward. Even while doing heavy labor at his job, he was graceful and radiated an aura of serenity. Eurydice, with small hesitant steps, made her way over to the bar, passing unoccupied tables and undisturbed pool tables until she reached her destination. With a good amount of distance from the counter, Eurydice watched as the lanky bartender restocked the shelves, he was still humming the same song from before. She cleared her throat, “mhhmm, hmmm.” 

“Yes, sorry! What can I get you-” Orpheus quickly stopped mid-sentence to stare at Eurydice, his throat running dry. The air was thick and felt oddly silent without the sound of his incessant humming. 

Eurydice felt herself beginning to shrink away under his intense gaze. However, she noticed that his stare wasn’t heated nor angry but instead nervous and doleful. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he repeated slowly as if she would disappear if he had said anything more. She couldn’t blame him for that reaction though, she did abandon the poor boy without a second thought, just a few days prior. They stood there in silence, neither of them knew what exactly to say. There was so much they wanted to ask, to spew out into the open, yet neither of them could find the words and both petrified the other would run as soon as they opened their respective mouths. 

“I thought-”

“I don’t hate you,” Eurydice blurted out, cutting Orpheus off and leaving him speechless. 

“But, I, I thought you said...I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries a few days ago! I didn’t mean to. Sometimes, Mister Hermes says I move my mouth before I think with my head...”

Eurydice wrung her hands and rocked from back to forth on her feet, from the balls of her heels to the tips of her toes. “No, I’m sorry. I was having a rough day and when I noticed my arm, I just…” Overreacted? Was screaming and crying truly an overreaction when realizing your worst nightmare－only having six months to live at the ripe young age of twenty-four－was becoming a reality? “I just...reacted.” Eurydice finished. “I didn’t mean what I said. Everything was just all happening at once, I couldn’t handle it. But it was wrong to vent all that on you. I’m sorry.”

Orpheus shrugged awkwardly, fiddling with his hands and stroking the side of his neck, “it’s okay-” 

“No, it’s really not,” Eurydice shook her head, gazing softly at the babyfaced bartender. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I was being a dick and I can own up to that...can you forgive me?”

Orpheus smiled, his teeth astoundingly white and straight, “of course, Eurydice.”

Eurydice’s eyes widened at the sound of her name falling from his lips, “how do you know my name?”

Orpheus gapped, floundering around a bit, “ohjeezIrealizethatsoundsquitestalkerish. I’msosorryEurydice!” Eurydice gave no response, choosing instead to stare down the boy until he spat out his excuse. “You dropped this as you left.” Fishing around in his pockets- pants, side and back, and front of his dirty apron, until he pulled out a rectangular plastic card. He handed it over to Eurydice, letting the girl flip it over. She gasped, it was her student ID. 

“Oh! I, I didn’t even realize I dropped this...thank you.”

Orpheus ran his fingers through his hair, the ends sticking up wildly even after his hands were removed, “it’s okay. I’m glad I was able to give it back to you.”

Eurydice leaned against the bar, placing her elbows on the countertop, head in her hands, “I’m surprised though. Most people never pronounce my name right, especially without me verbally saying it to them a few times. But you got it right on the first try.”

“Yes! I mean, of course, I did! It’s Greek, eurys meaning wide and dike meaning justice. You’re my soulmate, I wouldn’t want to say your name wrong.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow, “wow, you even looked up the meaning huh?”

Orpheus nearly fainted, face flushed an impossible red. “I...I just...I just meant to write it down so I wouldn’t forget it. Then, I realized how pretty it sounded and I wanted to know where it came from because Eurydice isn’t a common name, you know?” Eurydice nodded, attempting to hold back a giggle at the boy’s pure nervousness. 

“Hey,” Eurydice said smoothly, “it’s okay. I actually think it’s kinda cute.” She wasn’t lying either. If any other person had done this, Eurydice would’ve been freaked out beyond belief. But Orpheus, with his complete earnestness, she felt no ill harm was purposely done. 

Orpheus simpered once more and went back to absentmindedly wiping at the counter. “Your name’s Greek, just like mine. Do you happen to remember my name? I mean, I did tell you in passing so I won’t blame you if you don’t-”

“Orpheus.”

His hands stopped, smile wider than a mile, “yeah. That’s it.”

“So, will I ever be able to learn your last name as well?”

“Thrace,” he answered almost immediately. “Can I learn yours as well?”

“Mendoza.”

“Eurydice Mendoza,” he trailed off, a dreamy gloss shining in his eyes, “it’s beautiful.”

Eurydice rolled her eyes, a dusty blush spreading over her cheeks, damn, this stupid boy. “So, Orpheus Thrace, when did you decide to you wanted to marry me?”

“From the first moment I saw you,” Orpheus answered earnestly.

Eurydice was taken aback, but quickly attempted to regained her composure, “that soon huh?” Orpheus nodded his head. “But you didn’t even know me. Hell, you still barely know anything about me.”

“That’s the thing,” Orpheus began, pausing his ministrations and staring at the shiny glass in his hands. “From the moment I saw you, I felt as if I’d known you all along. Like, you were someone I was always meant to meet and get to know. Someone I was meant to fall in love with. And I still feel that way. I want to know everything you’ll let me. I want to spend each and every day learning more and more about one another.” Orpheus lifted his head, his eyes, bright and completely sincere, “I-”

“You’re quite the romantic type aren’t you?”

A flood of dark red crashed over Orpheus’ face. His cheeks, nose and the tips of his ears hot and  aflamed. He ducked his head down, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, “oh, uh yeah...Mister Hermes and Lady Persephone have always said I was a hopeless romantic.”

“I don’t know who Mister Hermes or Lady Persephone are, but don’t apologize for being yourself,” Eurydice replied sternly. “Even if you are a weirdo.”

Orpheus cringed, “weirdo in a good way or bad way?”

Eurydice gave him a serene smile, her eyes soft with an underlying hint of melancholy, “good way. Definitely good.” She didn’t know what came over her, but she felt desperate to confirm to his man that there was nothing wrong with how he was. In her eyes, he was too cute beyond belief. Orpheus smiled back and let out a small chuckle, the blush on his cheeks still an ever present red. Eurydice felt her heart pounding against her chest, stomach tying in knots at the saccharine display in front of her. This boy was just too damn beautiful! She stared for a few seconds longer then cleared her throat, her face growing warm, “and besides, we all got a bit of weirdness in us. No one is normal.”

“You seem pretty normal to me,” Orpheus said.

“That’s because you haven’t gotten to know me yet,” Eurydice smirked with a touch of cockiness tanging her tone. “I got a few questionable habits and interests.”

“Um, will I ever get to learn about said habits and interest?” Orpheus asked trying to feign his own sense of bravo but Eurydice could hear the eagerness bleeding through his words. 

“When is your next break?”

“Oh,” Orpheus shot back, turning to the small analog clock that hung on the sidewall, “I have about…another forty-five minutes.”

“Then, we’ll see in forty-five minutes,” Eurydice said assuredly, hopping off the barstool and walking over to an open table a few feet away. She turned to the stunned boy and gave him a wink before turning back and unloading her the contents of her backpack on to the tabletop. As long as she was here, she might as well catch up on some homework. She’d thought about it and death approaching or not, she was gonna finish this last quarter. She didn’t waste the past four years of her life just to not get her degree. 

She got to work, frantically calculating numbers and equations for her statistics class and typing away a budget proposal for her economics class. 

Minutes ticked by and before she’d realized, forty-five minutes had passed. Orpheus quietly threw off his apron and slunk into the seat opposite of Eurydice, head down and glued to the screen and books in front of her. “Hello, again.”

Eurydice flinched, nearly knocking over her laptop. “Gods! Orpheus, you scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry, did I disrupt your work?” he questioned shyly, fingers dancing in his hair again. Eurydice could tell he was getting antsy, and her yelling at him wouldn’t help that.

“No, no you're fine,” she waved off his apology. “I’m just about down here anyway. I take it you’re on your break now?”

Orpheus nodded, “yeah.”

“Great,” Eurydice grinned, “so, what d’ya wanna know?”

So they talked, and talked, and talked, both quickly losing track of the time. Eurydice studied Orpheus har, like a student cramming before an important final exam. She learned he was twenty-three, his birthday falling in the middle of May, that he’s been working at the bar full time since he was eighteen, and that he lives with his guardian Hermes on the floor above.

“You don’t live with your parents?”

Orpheus smile morphed into something forced, hollow even, “I never met my dad, divorced my mom before she gave birth to me. My mom raised me for a while, ‘til I was about 18 months, I believe? She...she didn’t want me,” Orpheus attempted to say as blase as possible, yet, Eurydice picked up on the hint of emotion in his tone. The hurt. “Said she couldn’t look after a kid. Wanted to go and find her soulmate. So, she dropped me off at Mister Hermes’, and she left. Never came back after that.”

“Oh, Orpheus,” Eurydice cooed sympathetically. 

“I’m fine now,” Orpheus piped up, waving his arms, “it was a long time ago, I barely remember it.” He lowered his hands, “I can’t fully blame her for leaving. I understand the feeling of wanting to meet your soulmate more than anything, I wonder if it’s her I got that from?” He let out a weak laugh, “But, I can’t help but wonder if I ever came up in her mind at all throughout these years? I know that’s selfish to wish someone would think back on when she wasn’t happy, but I...”

“It’s not selfish,” Eurydice pressed, causing Orpheus to lift his head. “You’re a lot kinder than I ever could be. I’d hate my mom for leaving me.” I already do…

Orpheus shook his head. Silence fell between them. Eurydice sighed, “I understand how you feel, about wondering if your mom thought about you when leaving you behind? If she still thinks about you now...my mom is out of the picture as well.”

“Really?” Orpheus asked curiously.

Eurydice gave a quick nod, “yeah.” Orpheus didn’t badger her for more answers, which she greatly appreciated. She turned away from the boy with the sad puppy-like eyes, “look, Orpheus...I’m not sure if I’m ready to full-on dive into being soulmates and romantic and all that. It’s not you or anything, it’s just that...I have some, hang-ups, about this stuff. But, I do think I want to try to warm up to it though.” 

She faced the younger boy, his eyes soft. “That’s okay Eurydice, we don’t have to move fast with any of this. We have time to grow and figure all this out.”

Time. Time. Time.

Eurydice faintly smiled. “Yeah,” she whispered, “yeah, we do have time.”

The college student tentatively reached out her hand, fingers bending at the joint. Orpheus slowly placed his hand in hers, fingertips tickling her palm until his fingers slid into place in between hers. The action was foreign and scary to both of them, to be this close and intimate with a relative stranger. Yet somehow, it was something they both yearned for. Eurydice curled her fingers and gave a tight squeeze, a promise saying she was going to let go. Orpheus lifted their hands to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, right at the bottom of her knuckles. His way of sealing this promise, his way of saying okay. 

“And who might this be?”

The two new lovers jumped, ripping their hands apart as well. They turned to see an older gentleman peering down at them. His skin a dark, velvety brown, with prominent wrinkles, that popped brilliantly against his matching silver suit. His gray hair perfectly cut and trimmed. 

“Oh, Mister Hermes!” Ahh, so this was the mysterious Mister Hermes. “Eurydice, this is Mister Hermes. He runs the bar and has basically raised me since I was a child. Mister Hermes, this is Eurydice, my…” Orpheus trailed off, turning to meet Eurydice’s eyes. How did she want him to introduce herself? She had said earlier that the whole soulmate thing didn’t sit right with her, would she still want to be referred to as his soulmate? 

Eurydice paid no mind to Orpheus’ hesitancy and offered her hand for the man to shake. “Eurydice Mendoza, I’m Orpheus’ soulmate.”

Soulmate. That was the first time Eurydice had said the words out loud. She was someone’s soulmate. She had found hers after years of swearing it off. And despite that gnawing feeling of fear lingering in the back of her mind, an overwhelming wave of sheer euphoria washed over her body. Orpheus was her soulmate, and in the short time she had known him, she was glad to be his. 

The older gentleman smiled a coy smile, “ahh, so you’re the girl who Orpheus has been moping about.” Orpheus began to blush and sputter but the man kept his eyes focused of Eurydice, raising a sole eyebrow at the girl, “‘told me all about your little, confession, a few nights back. You mind telling me what you're doing back here after hurting my boy?” His words were calm yet cold, burning and biting Eurydice after each pause. His hard stare pointed like freshly sharpened daggers. 

The air grew dense, full of tension and scrutiny on the older man's part. Orpheus, halfway regaining his composure, tried to defend his soulmate, “Mister Hermes it’s okay, it was all a misunderstanding. We solved-”

“No Orpheus,” Eurydice stopped the boy in his tracks, “I should explain this.” Hermes said nothing, waiting patiently for Eurydice to continue. The girl sighed, “I was a complete ass. A whole bunch of crap had happened that day and I…” she paused. She twisted her fingers in her lap, was she actually gonna admit this? Was Orpheus going to hate her? Judging by how enamored he seemed to be with her, it didn’t seem plausible but that didn’t calm Eurydice’s nerves. She let out a shaky breath, “I wasn’t ready to meet my soulmate. I actively tried to avoid it due to...circumstances. So when I ran into Orpheus, I was angry and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I said some really nasty things to Orpheus that I regretted right after I said them.”

Eurydice glanced over to Orpheus. Expecting to find shame, she was greeted instead to a face full of understanding, and non-judgemental warmth. She continued, “but, after coming back and really talking to Orpheus, I don’t feel as scared anymore. Maybe meeting my soulmate wasn’t such a bad thing after all…”

Hermes stared the girl down, and the young soulmates held their breaths. However, Eurydice watched as some form of understanding washed over the older man’s face, his eyes softening. “I believe you girl.”

Eurydice let out a sigh of relief, she wished she knew what she did, knew what she said that caused him to believe her. But for now, his acceptance of her would do. “Thank you, Mister Hermes.”

“However,” he countered frowning, “try not to hurt my boy like that again.”

Orpheus blushed, shifting away from the stares of his guardian and his soulmate.

Eurydice gave Hermes a melancholic smile, if only he knew, “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

“Aight then,” he nodded, satisfied with her answer. “ I’ll let y’all finish up here. Your break ends in five, Orpheus,” Hermes winked, sauntering away from the two and back behind the bar, returning to serving customers.

“I’m sorry about… that,” Orpheus frowned sheepishly.

“Don’t be,” Eurydice smiled, reaching out to link their hands once again. “I’m glad you have someone who’s looking out for you.” Orpheus, without wasting a second, interlocked his fingers with hers. 

As the rest of their limited time went on, the two watched as slowly but surely, more and more people flooded the bar. Buzzing bodies, young and old, crowded tables, all around the stage and swarmed the bar counter, clamoring to be served round after round. Orpheus gave another shy smile before rushing back to working the busy bar. Eurydice sat and watched the young bartender, keeping her eyes glued to the boy as he bounced back and forth between guests. She studied his movements as he took orders and mixed drinks, tight and routined as a well-oiled machine, his body language, his cheerful smile and welcoming disposition, how he engaged every customer with the same amount of care and genuine appreciation and attention. She watched the actions of a boy who grew up behind a bar counter, surrounded by drunk bodies, yet still found the light and joy in the craziest of moments. Eurydice could feel the fluttery feeling return, kicking intensely at her gut. 

Orpheus wiped stray beads of sweat from his brow and met Eurydice’s attentive gaze, giving her a modest, yet heartfelt grin before returning back to serving. The molten pit in Eurydice’s stomach began to boil and bubble, overflowing in an array of smoldering heat that nearly caused her to physically recoil. 

What was this? I just met the damn boy for gods sake! She wanted to run, run far from this foreign feeling that was plaguing her mind and body. Yet, she ached to feel more, to draw closer to the boy and let the fiery heat consume her whole. Eurydice thought back to what she told Hermes, told Orpheus, after coming back and really talking to Orpheus, I don’t feel as scared anymore. Maybe meeting my soulmate wasn’t such a bad thing after all…

Did she really mean all that?

She stared back at Orpheus, watching him laugh and entertain each guest with lovable enthusiasm. Yeah, maybe falling for him wouldn’t be so bad?

Eurydice spent the next few hours at the bar talking to Orpheus, Hermes and other random patrons who randomly struck up conversations. Surprisingly, mostly everyone in the bar was a long-time regular. each with their own funny story about Orpheus to tell. Before leaving, she and Orpheus exchanged numbers and he made her promise (innocently asked with such a cute expression Eurydice couldn’t have denied him even if she’d wanted to) to text him when she got back home, a request she honored. They texted the rest of the night until midnight reared its ugly head. 

Goodnight Eurydice! <3

Night Orpheus

She didn’t realize until she laid down for bed that night, but during her time at the bar, she never peered down at the clock on her arm once. Not one quick glance or check. Was this was what love was? Being so enamored that time flies by yet you couldn’t care less?

She drifted off to bed, the sounds of honking vehicles and drunkenly happy civilians blaring outside her window. The lights from the outside world bled through her drawn curtains. And for the first time in days, she slept soundly through the night. 

...

This chapter was not worth the wait and I apologize for that. Enjoy the semi-light tone because it’s not gonna last long. 

I’m not promising when the next chapters out. 

[literarynerd05]

Rant and Realizations

I’ve been sitting here, staring at the screen, trying to figure out how I want to start this. I haven’t blogged in such a long time. Instead, I have been keeping it all inside. I wanted to get back to text based role playing, but the group I found...sucked. I could not follow the posts at all, did not understand what story they were trying to show. Many of them did not even know how to role play in a text based format properly, and this group even had a teaching area where one could learn how to do so! And punctuation...I had to leave it because it was so bad. I liked doing text based role play because it kept me creative and helped me write more, but oh well. Maybe it is a good thing, it would be like going back in time in a way, since I primarily played when in high school. 

Life is hard right now. My PTSD is back and so is my border line personality disorder. I kept asking myself, “Why now? Why is all of this happening to me now?” I have PTSD inducing dreams and it feels like things that I have suppressed are starting to unlock. I talked to my therapist about it and she thinks it is probably because of the stress of how the world is right now. That sucks, but it makes sense. It just makes everything so much harder. I wake up after one of those dreams on the brink of an anxiety attack, having trouble breathing, shaking, a little paranoid. I have been wondering for years if I wanted to know what I have suppressed and now that some of it is coming out, I still do not know the answer to that question. Does knowing make my life easier? Does confronting my inner demons completely keep me from future pain from them? I honestly do not know. I do know that I am scared to have those memories come to the front, scared as to what was so painful that I have suppressed it. 

I keep trying to remember aspects of my childhood because I have suppressed so much of it. I see pictures of myself and I do not have the memory of when it is from. I remember before my mom moved and she and my dad were separated that I played in the medicine cabinet at his and his girlfriends house (the one with the boys that sexually abused me) and I had fun breaking open capsules and dumping into water. But that is where the memory stops. Did I get caught? Did I get in trouble? Why was that stuff where I could reach it anyway? Who was supposed to be watching me?  Basically, I have a snapshot of a moment, not the full memory. I remember when my mom came back from Ohio to pick up her stuff from our house on Beach street, but again, only a snapshot. I just remember that the truck had a hole in it and them loading stuff into it. Then there are the things that I remember but have no visual image of it. I know my dad and I went to Six Flags every summer, but I cannot see it in my mind. I know we got waffle cones before we left, but again, I do not have a visual. It is like my childhood was so traumatic that even my good memories have been hidden from me. I do want my good memories back but they could be so entangled in the bad ones that to have even the good ones, I have to take the bad. I guess that makes sense, take the good with the bad and all. 

The custody court stuff? Or maybe it was just the divorce stuff and the custody was part of it. Anyway, all I remember is I had to go talk to the judge alone and that during winter I believe, my mom and Kevin left me at a friends house to come to Illinois for court stuff. This is what has been really plaguing me lately. What exactly happened? Did the judge even have my mothers history of child abuse? Did I really want to go live there like is in my memory because I wanted to be near my big brother? Or was it really my moms idea and she talked me into believing it is what I wanted? I tried talking to my dad about all of this but he doesn’t remember, or says he doesn’t. I keep thinking that there has to be transcripts of this, somewhere. I have found the barest information on the divorce online, which could be where the custody was as well, the judges name  does sound vaguely familiar. But there is no information about dispositions or things like that. I hope that it is something that I will be able to see if I went in person, after all, it did concern me. Nothing comes up when I search my own name, which makes sense considering that I was a minor. I don’t know why all of a sudden I need to know, but I do. I want to know what all was said and what all happened. I also wonder if it is something that I will have to pay for? 

I hate that more than half of my life is a blur to me, a vague snapshot of what has transpired.

I came close to cutting but chose to start smoking again instead. I haven’t cut in 7 years. I do not even remember when I first did it and why I did it. I know why I did it later on but I do not know what happened to make me do it the first time. 

And I am so ANGRY lately. Angry at the world, angry at the President, angry at my mother. There is a pandemic going on with over 100,000 deaths and she has not checked in with her family. How can someone be so fucking selfish? How can she not care about her children, her mother, her sister enough to at least check in during this very scary time and be like hey, I am okay and I want to make sure you are okay. But she hasn’t. I know, I am not surprised, but I am angry. I will never understand my mother. I know she is sick, mentally. And I logically know that she will never be the mother that I want her to be. Hell, that I need her to be. It is just getting my emotions to understand that, that is where I am running into the problem. Logic is great but sometimes your heart does not understand logic. I see other people posting about how wonderful their mom is and I am so happy for them...but also jealous because I do not have that type of mom. Yes, I do have my Aunt Anne, who has been more of a mother to me than my mother ever has, but sometimes it isn’t the same. I just wish that I had a mother that actually cared. One that didn’t care more for her dog than her children like mine did growing up. One that I can call and talk to about anything and everything. One that hasn’t repeatedly abandoned me. One that does not make me feel like dirt, feel worthless and unlovable. One who celebrates my accomplishments instead of making me feel like nothing is ever good enough. No matter what I did, it was never good enough for her. Why was I never good enough? Why doesn’t she care? I wish...I wish I had an actual mother. It hurts so much that my own mother, the person who birthed me, does not want anything to do with me. Has never truly loved me....That one is the hardest to come to terms with. She has never truly loved anyone, even her children. How does one even process something like that? Where do I even begin? I guess my therapist and I have a place to start. I tend to avoid confronting my feelings about my mother. But...it is time that I start. I will not fully heal until I do. How can someone not love their children? Is this why I have never had a lasting relationship? Why I laugh at the thought of marriage and any kind of commitment? I am realizing quite a bit while writing this. Maybe I am holding onto D because I am afraid to move on...afraid to truly love someone and be loved back. Yeah, D loves me, but he is never going to be able to really admit it or embrace his feelings. Or even love me how I want him to. Maybe I am more in love with the idea of how we were versus still loving him. That is another one that is hard to confront, but I need to if I am ever going to move on fully. I can’t keep looking at the past and at what may have been. I can’t change him. I can’t change my mother. I know she will never be the mother that I want her to be. That I need her to be. I know D will never be the person that I have wanted him to be...that I hoped he would be. Once I start to heal, I need to find someone that actually loves me. That wants to be with me. That wants to be Leo to my Piper. Ben to my Leslie. Jim to my Pam. Luke to my Lorelai. Shawn to my Juliet. 

Realizing all of this is hard. But I can use this to help me move on. To help me become better. To love myself again. To find myself again. 

I am afraid to be completely open with someone because I have been hurt. I have been hurt by someone that is supposed to love me no matter what. How can I trust anyone else with all of me when my mother doesn’t love me? How can I be that vulnerable? That exposed? I feel like everything that I have realized while writing this is why I haven’t sat down to write in so long. 

With the pandemic, I live every day scared, sad, and angry because of all of the senseless deaths. Because our country is not doing what needs to be done. So many people are not understanding how serious this thing is. So many think that it infringes on their civil rights. What do we as Caucasian people know about civil rights? Wearing a mask does not infringe your civil rights, it protects OTHER PEOPLE in case you are infected and are asymptomatic, or even are infected and know and are still going out. The death toll was not even supposed to reach 80,000 until AUGUST. It happened at the beginning of May. Now, not even 30 days later we have hit over 100,000, the highest in the world. Other countries actually shut down and took this seriously so their numbers are nowhere near ours. But we have an imbecile in the oval office that likes to overstep his authority and cares more about himself and the election than the American people. And many people still DO NOT see this about him. He regularly has temper tantrums and storms off. If someone disagrees with him he tries to silence them. I am scared of where our country will be come November because we are not heading in a good direction. People are not social distancing...they are not wearing masks...Our president isn’t taking the pandemic seriously. Tells blatant lies and then gets mad when someone calls him on it. Even his own people. Checks and balances are in place for someone like him but because we are a two party system and his party is so afraid to cross him, he will not be held accountable for his actions and lack of inaction. Instead, this moron gets to run rampant and give the constitution a middle finger. 

Think about it for a minute. 100,000 deaths. That is the population of some cities. That is a number we should never have reached. We need to take a minute...stop and think about the people we have lost. Think about what needs to be done to prevent more deaths. What can we do to slow this thing? We need to have concern for someone other than ourselves! Care about the consequences of your actions on other people! We are the most selfish country only thinking about oneself. 

All of this does not help my depression. But I have to watch a bit of what is going on every day so that I am informed. It honestly makes me cry. When I watched a news clip after we reached 100,000 deaths, I cried. For them, for our country, for those that may come next. 

[angelarthurmorgan]

❛  protector |  when you’re taken for months at a time, things change. but there’s only one man that you can trust.

    ❛ warnings: physical fight, blood

    ❛ genre: angst, fluff

     ❛ word count: 2.6k

You were a girl who could handle herself, somebody that wasn’t afraid to be independent. You had many positive aspects of your personality, and many admired those traits; you were strong-willed, bold, independent, confident, and always prepared for the worst.

But, every human-being has their positive and negative traits. Even though you were somebody many others looked up to or tried to be, you had traits that made you not so good. Hot-headed, jumping into things without thinking things through, you sometimes cared too deeply for the wrong people.

Although you acted as if you didn’t need anybody to lean on, Arthur Morgan could see right through it. He understood that you wanted to do things alone and prove your own worth, and he let you, but he was always there to step in when you overstepped your boundaries. Most of the time, you would throw fits and spew insults and curses right his way, saying that he didn’t trust you enough to be alone and do things on your own, but deep down the both of you knew it was for your safety.

That was something you despised about yourself; you’d get frustrated and beyond pissed when people tried to protect you and keep you out of harm’s way. The self-hate you had for yourself only grew stronger when you realized you had adapted the trait of not being able to trust anybody anymore, not even the men and women you had called a family. It was hard to speak to them, even to look in their direction as it only triggered harsh moments you didn’t want to relive.

You tried not to dwell on the past and what had happened to you, but sometimes it was hard not to at least think about it, especially since every damn time you saw one of your gang members it just flooded back into your head. It was tough on you, it was tough on everybody else and especially Arthur.

A part of you thought that Arthur carried the guilt ten times more than the others carried. After you had been taken and had been gone for around a month, he must’ve felt partly responsible, even though it truly wasn’t his fault. You never blamed him for the position you were put in, maybe the others slightly, but you could never bring yourself to put anything on Arthur. You knew he was struggling with his own past, and struggling to even get through what was happening currently, and he only continued to carry every bad thing that had happened to him on his back. Arthur wasn’t and isn’t the type of man to just let those type of things go, and you knew he blamed himself for all of it.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the body length mirror in front of you, tears welling in your eyes as you observed your entire appearance. Small scars had been engraved in your rosy cheeks, burn scars were around your wrist and on your stomach, cuts that still hadn’t healed were scattered everywhere on your skin. The bruises had faded, but you could only imagine the blue-purple marks as you stared at yourself. It was hard for you to let go, especially when you were reminded of it just by seeing your own skin.

Usually, when you were upset before you disappeared, any of the guys would check up on you. John, when he truly felt the need to, he’d approach you and do his best to be as kind as possible when confronting you but it was difficult for him, but you appreciated it and talked to him sometimes. Javier, someone you had bonded with when you had spare time in camp; you always sang songs with him, attempted to play the guitar which always ended in laughs and giggles, you even tried to learn a few phrases in Spanish just to get closer to him. He’d usually know when something was up, so he’d do his best to comfort you. Lenny, the boy that was like your younger brother, someone who knew exactly when you were having a bad day and he would always talk to you and try to brighten it with jokes or drinks, always a fun person to spend your time with. Dutch, someone who didn’t think much of your state until he realized deep down that everything wasn’t alright, and being the fatherly figure he was he would question you, trying to be as gentle and sweet as possible as you were like one of his daughters. Hosea, who was similar to Dutch in a sense, but noticed it much more quickly and would approach the situation much more gentle and caring, using his wiseness to help you out through whatever you were struggling with. Charles, he spent some of his spare time with you, the two of you would go hunting together and talk about your past lives, he was always so humble and calm you had grown to admire him. He usually was there for you and would let you know he knows what’s up. Even Uncle and Bill would sometimes converse with you about your issues, and they weren’t quite as helpful, but the support was all the mattered — but now when they even noticed that something was wrong, you’d turn them away, leaving them worried and concerned.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the relationship you had with them, as most of them were like brothers or fathers, but you couldn’t bear to even be in a five-foot radius of them. After what they did to you, you couldn’t possibly forgive them. Some of them, like Dutch and John, didn’t seem to get the message about staying away, and that’s when the only man you trusted had to step in. Once you had told Arthur only a little of your story, he made a vow to himself that he’d protect you. He was protective before, but now if one little thing triggered you in a bad way he would be right there to get whatever it was away and spend the rest of his time with you until he made sure you were okay.

Loud yelling could be heard outside your cot in the camp, and you couldn’t help but listen in on it. Acting as if you weren’t eavesdropping, you crawled into your bed and buried yourself in the covers, pretending you were sleeping. It would be believable since all you did was lay in your bed when you didn’t want to deal with any of the camp members, especially since mentally you weren’t strong enough to even leave the camp.

“She really has the audacity to ignore us? It’s not like she can do it for fucking ever! Shit happens, that’s what happens when you run with a god damned gang with people constantly up your ass. We’re always there for each other, she needs to be there for us as well. Whether it be hunting, donating camp funds, whatever the case.”

That voice belonged to no one other than a hot-headed John Marston, who must’ve been angry about a whole ordeal, and seeing you must’ve frustrated him even more greatly.

You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist and digging your fingernails in the palm of your hand, leaving some deeper marks than you wanted. Anger engulfed your whole being as you hopped right out of the bed, stalking over to where John was standing. Many other members observed from afar, knowing not to get between something so heated. You felt your chest grow heavy as you looked John directly in the eyes for the first time in forever; your intense stare could’ve burnt a hole right between his eyes. Without even exchanging any words, your fist flew right to his face as he stumbled backward in shock. You took this opportunity to leap at him before straddling him and holding him down, your fist meeting his face repeatedly as you punched with all your strength. “You fucking left me to die! You fucking deserve this, all of you fucking deserve this.”

In a matter of seconds, you felt someone roughly grab you by your shoulders, ripping you off of John instantly. “(Name), calm down and breathe. Look what you did.” It was a familiar voice, a voice you knew all too well; it was Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but listen to him. Hesitantly, you rose to your feet and there it was. There you saw his bloodied face, scratches and bruises on the right side of his face. Once you saw the aftermath, you couldn’t help but feel regret and sorry, but you refused to show that you cared for somebody that didn’t give two shits about you.

Arthur leaned close to your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think it’s best ya go to your cot, I’ll take it from here, alright?”

You gulped. Half of you wanted to protest, argue that you had the right to fuck John up, he had it coming when he felt the need to badmouth you to the entire camp. Yet, the other half of you wanted to give into Arthur’s request, not only because you trusted him but because you were slowly falling in love with the only person that actually gave a damn. You turned heel and slowly walked back to your camp, but not without shooting a few dirty looks in John’s direction. Fucking asshole.

An angry Arthur was something nobody wanted to deal with, but now everybody was paying the consequences after the stunt both you and John had pulled. Arthur stalked over towards John and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him onto his feet, their eyes both narrowed. “I don’t know what the hell was going through your damned head, those wolves ate all of your god damn brains and common sense. You left her when she needed ya the most, you all left her when she needed ya most.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently if you were in the situation like the rest of us were. Maybe you should have been there, Arthur.”

Arthur held back the urge to punch John square in the jaw when he was in such a vulnerable position. It would’ve felt so nice, teaching him some type of lesson, but he didn’t. “You damn well I’d risk my life for that girl, unlike you cowards. I’d protect her with everything I had. I’d be the men you couldn’t and can’t be. Hell, you probably wouldn’t even save Abigail and your son if your life depended on it.”

John opened his mouth to spit back an insult, a remark, but Arthur quickly cut him off.

“I ain’t gonna fight you, Marston. Just know that none of y’all have any place to say shit, because y’all made her this way and she needs support from her family, not some damned people who are gonna knock her down a couple more pegs when she’s already low enough. If y’all ever hurt her again, I promise you there will be consequences.” Arthur threatened, his voice dangerously low as he refrained from lashing out on everybody and John specifically. He dropped John to the dirt ground with no hesitation before leaving the scene, heading towards where you currently were.

Once he entered your small cot, he noticed you were sitting there with your head in your hands. Your right fist was covered in blood, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was John’s or yours. “L-look at me Arthur, I’m a mess. What he said was somewhat true, I’m useless. How am I gonna be in a gang if I can’t even leave the camp, or pick up a gun and shoot a couple guys?”

Arthur hushed you by bringing his finger up to your lips, wiping away a couple tears with the thumb of his opposite hand. “Nothing that came out of that idiot’s mouth is true; he’s just angry and hurt. Just like you are, (Name). You���re like a sister to him, a sister to the rest of ‘em and a daughter to Dutch and Hosea. One day you’ll be able to trust ‘em again, maybe a little, but for now, you have me and you always will.” Arthur stated, trying to make you understand how the rest of the gang felt.

With nothing else to say, you curled up next to Arthur, resting your head in his lap while he played with your (hair color) locks as a way to calm you and keep himself occupied.

The room was quiet for a while until your hoarse voice broke the silence. “Arthur, I trust you with my whole entire being, I hope ya know that. I mean it.”

Once Arthur processed this information, he only felt guilty. Everyone knew that he beat himself up about his past and about himself, and this was no exception. He was a bad man, he knew it, you knew it, the whole United States knew it and he hated it, and that’s why he felt that this was wrong. “I’m a bad man, (Name). You shouldn’t trust me with nothin’, and you shouldn’t trust me with such a thing, ‘cause if I lose ya it’s gon’ be my fault and I ain’t trying to deal with losin’ somebody I care about again.”

A frown adorned your features as you looked up into his emerald green eyes. You brought your hands up and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to stare straight at you. “When are you gon’ learn that you ain't-a bad man? That you’re just tryin’ to survive, and get through this life and get this country back to what it was ‘sposed to be? Maybe them lawmen think you’re a bad man, but you sure as hell ain’t to me. Look what you just did for me out there, just to protect me and make sure they knew that it wasn’t my fault I’m this way and that is was theirs. I can’t even explain how much of a good man you are to me Arthur, and everyone that doesn’t think so is blind.”

“That’s the most I’ve heard ya say in weeks.” Arthur chuckled, lightening the mood and you shoved him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Thank ya, (Name).” he whispered softly.

“Of course,” you responded before returning back to your previous position, cuddled up with Arthur on your bed.

One day, you would be able to leave this camp and return back to your daily duties. One day, you’d also be able to walk up those who betrayed and look them right in the eyes and smile. One day, you could prove those who thought you were weak wrong. And one day, you would surely get back at those who did those dirty disgusting things to you, but for now, you had somebody to loved and cared for you; and that’s all you needed to get back up on your feet.

Arthur Morgan’s love for you kept you going, kept pushing you forward and you were forever grateful. Even though the two of you had your negatives and issues with each other, you would always come back to him because he’s the reason you were a semi-functioning member of society currently.

Words couldn’t explain your thanks, but you knew he knew, and that was enough for you. All you needed was Arthur Morgan.

That’s all you needed and would ever need.

[warsamongstthestar-keen]

Chapter Three

   After accepting Kanan's offer of joining the crew, she's offered a bunk aboard the ship. Almost immediately after, just as she settles in to meditate on the will of the Force in this instance, shouting and insistent droid babble floods the ship. Opening one eye, she focuses and, as Ezra tries to seek solace from, what is apparently an angry Lasat, the door shuts in his face. The chaotic sounds of the ship disappear, as the Force focuses around her.

   "Master Gormo," she breathes a sigh of relief.

   "Ar'iabel Quinara, what troubles you?"

   "Well, Master, I don't feel as close to Force as normal, it's as though there is some rift, something stopping me from accessing it as I used to, why would that be?"

   "The Force is there, as it always is, it is merely you."

   "Me," she stands then to face her Master's Master, "What did I do? Why is this happening?"

   "It's not your fault, youngling," at youngling, Keen has to hold back a scoff, "It's the fact that you hid your ability, buried the Force deep inside, not allowing it to show. It was self-preservation, and not one of us blames you."

   She slumps down on the bunk, "How? How do I fix it?"

   "Trust in the Force," with that, Gormo fades, and the Jedi is left with more questions than she has answers for. A knock resounds on the door to her cabin, and she answers it.

   "I'm about to start Ezra's training, care to join me?"

   "I don't see why I shouldn't." She smiles, following the Knight out, and onto the top of the ship, finding, not only Ezra, but, also the astromech, Chopper, and the Lasat, Zeb.

   Sitting down criss-cross on the ship, watching the Padawan train. She watches with mild amusement as Kanan has his Padawan stand on his hands on top of the gun turret, telling him repeatedly to focus.

   "Focus. Focus on letting go."

   "Letting go? Rather hold on, if you don't mind." Keen actually smirks slightly at that, Ezra reminding her of a young Caleb.

   "Enough jokes. Focus."

   The boy hesitantly lifts one arm, balancing with the other, he lets out a groan as his Master repeats himself once again, "I'm trying."

   "Do or do not. There is no try," Ar'iabel mouths the words along with the Knight, knowing what he would say.

   "What does that even mean? How can I do something if I don't try to do it?"

   "Well, see," the Jedi then grumbles a soft curse in Aurebesh, "Actually, I never understood that one either, but Master Yoda used to say it a lot."

   Keen decides it's time for her to speak up, "You either succeed or you fail. You don't attempt to succeed. Say you were in a fight, would you say you tried to win? Or would you say you failed? There is no trying with the Force, only succeeding or failing."

   Kanan actually smiles at the explanation, "Sure, trust Yoda's Padawan to understand his strange sayings."

    Keen laughs, whilst sensing boredom radiating from the Lasat on her left. He lets out a long yawn, stretching his arms above his head, "I really thought this Jedi stuff would be more interesting. No wonder the old religion died."

    The Jedi's eyes snap to the Lasat, her eyes glaring daggers at him, although no malice is held behind them. She had felt anger start to fill her mind, which would have clouded her judgement, and had shoved it out to the Force. She could understand, how, from an outside point of view, the ways of the Jedi could be viewed as boring, although Keen had always thought them peaceful until the Clone Wars. She's abruptly pulled from her reprieve when she hears Ezra yelp, her eyes snapping to Zeb who is shaking the turret.

   "Does he have to be here?" Ezra asks, brushing himself off after falling from the turret. Master Quinara lifts herself off the roof, walking over to check on the Padawan learner.

   "He's annoying, but there will always be distractions. You need to learn to focus through them. Here. Let's try something else," Kanan pulls his lightsaber pieces from his belt, fastening them together. He holds it out to Ezra. Keen reaches a hand down into her bag, finding her blades still resting there. She's suddenly reminded of the last time they were ignited, and the carnage that followed, pulling back as though she's been burned.

   "When do I get my own?"

   "Having a laser sword doesn't make you a Jedi."

   Suddenly, Keen snaps at Kanan, "Lightsaber, it is called a lightsaber, Padawan, as you well know!"

   He raises his hands in a calming gesture, closing his eyes briefly, "I'm sorry, Master."

   Ezra glances between the two, "Having one gets me closer," he grumbles, igniting the blade, almost decapitating his Master

   "Careful! There's a control on the side that adjusts the length to your height," Kanan says, pointing to the control. Ezra adjusts the dial, and the blade shrinks to a more reasonable length.

   "Do you have a lightsaber?" Ezra asks Keen.

   "Yes, every Padawan, once nearing the end of their training went to the Crystal Cave on Ilum, finding themselves a Kyber Crystal," she leans against the gun turret, crossing her arms.

   "Kyber Crystal?" Ezra questions, waving Kanan's lightsaber testingly, his poor form almost causing Ar'iabel to laugh.

   "Kyber Crystals are rare. They are strongly attuned to the force, the heart of a lightsaber. It allows the Force to travel through the hilt to the blade. The larger the Crystal, the rarer it is, and the more power it holds. The Empire has destroyed many of the caves, harvesting the kyberite for some project, it's nearly impossible to find a Kyber Crystal in nature anymore."

   "Whoa, cool. Can I see your lightsaber?" he asks, such genuine happiness and curiosity radiating through the Force it's nearly contagious.

  "Ezra! Focus!"

   "Sorry, Kanan." The Padawan jumps down to a lower part of the top of the ship. A crate of empty cans sits between Zeb and Chopper.

   "Okay. Close your eyes," Ezra shuts them tight, while Zeb hands the astromech one of the cans, "Let him have it, Chopper."

   The droid babbles happily, spinning his top fast, the can in his hands. The Master Jedi tracks the object as it soars through the air, the lightsaber swinging to stop the can, only for it to hit the kid in the chest. "Ow!" Ezra grunts, once again swinging the blade. The droid continues to throw the ammo, provided to him by the Lasat.

   "Be precise. Keep the blade," the Knight releases a groan, "up."

   While Kanan attempts to train the boy, the Lasat is finally getting the amusement he wanted, "That's it, kid. Use your body to slow down that trash."

   The trash continues to smack against the unfocused Padawan, resulting in him groaning.

   Keen looks over at Kanan, as the astromech continues to taunt the Padawan. Knowing how she would feel if another Jedi had attempted to tell her Padawan, Qui Gon Jinn, how to train, she's been keeping herself from commenting, but, if this had been the days of the old religion, the boy would've already had some training given to him from a young age. Master Quinara throws caution to the Force and says, "Ezra, I what you to feel the vibrations in air around you," she throws out a hand, haulting the droid before he releases another can. "Can you feel the wind?"

   "Uh, huh."

   "Okay, go deeper, deeper into the wind, into yourself, concentrate on the feelings around you."

    He nods, and she can sense a change, as can Kanan. "Okay, now, tune out everything that isn't that tugging you feel in your gut, even the sound of my voice, that tugging is the pull of the Force, focus on that." She releases Chopper from her hold, the can he's holding flying at Ezra, who swings the blade, slicing it in half just before it can hit him.

   He opens one eye slightly, "I did, I actually did it," he shouts, distracted, not noticing the rest of the cans flying at his face. They hit Ezra knocking him off the flying ship.

   "Kid!" Zeb shouts, as Ezra falls toward the ground. Ar'iabel steps to the edge of the ship, Kanan right next to her. She lets herself loose into the Force, finding Ezra's signature, both Jedi focus on lifting him up, his form floating back to the ramp.

   The focus it takes both Jedi to raise the boy begins to weigh on them both, "Zeb!" Kanan shouts.

   The Lasat leans out of the ramp, grabbing the kids arms, pulling him back onto the ship. "Got him!" he shouts with a grunt, and a collective sigh of relief echoes through the ship.

   The Jedi lower themselves back into the cargo hold, finding the C1 astromech chortling at the Padawan.

   "You weren't focused."

   "Tough to focus when I'm falling to my death," Ezra jokes, trying to lighten the mood after his near death experience.

 "You wouldn't have been falling to your death if you were focused. You're undisciplined and full of self-doubt," Kanan rants at him.

   "And whose fault is that, Master?"

   The Jedi Knight sighs, "It's difficult to teach." He turns to Keen and gestures to a corner of the cargo hold, "Can we talk?"

   She nods at him, having a suspicion as to what this may be about, "Look, Kanan, I'm sorry for stepping over you with Ezra's training, that wasn't my place, I wasn't thinking. I understand I overstepped, and you have every right to be angry with me so if you–"

   He cuts her off, "No, I want you to take Ezra as your Padawan. I'm not even fully trained, I can't train him, it's clear you're the better choice."

   "That's doubt clouding your judgement, Caleb, you have everything you need to train Ezra. I have no right to step in." Kanan opens his mouth to say something, probably protest, "The Force chooses the best Master for the Padawan, and the best Padawan for a Master, I have no right to step in over the Force."

   "During the Clone Wars, Jedi were assigned their Padawan."

   "Yes, after deep meditation in the Force, asking it for advice, not without thought."

   "You train Ezra, I can't," he tells her, turning to leave.

   "Can't, or won't? Can't is not a word in a Jedi's vocabulary!" She shouts at him.

   He turns around, facing her, a finger rising to point at her, "You are better suited to train him, but you refuse to see it."

   "It's not that I refuse to see it, it's that I believe in you, I believe in the Force, and the Force clearly believes you can train that boy!" Kanan storms off into the ship.

   Keen sighs, her emotions had risen during the argument, clouding her judgement, she knows she was harsh with Kanan, and yet she knows he needed to hear that. She senses the Force presence of Ezra standing behind her, knowing he heard every word she and Kanan had said, judging by the sadness she senses from him.

   "Ezra, don't worry, he's stressed, and nervous." She sits down on a crate, and pats the place beside her, "Training a Padawan is difficult, especially one that has absolutely no training. He has never had a student before, but, I meant everything I said, the Force paired you two for a reason, even if you can't see it yet. You have what it takes, and he knows that, he's scared, scared that he'll fail you, or that in him training you, you'll just be more likely to get killed. Ever since Order 66, fear has conquered the Galaxy, you will help him work through his, and he you. Believe in yourself, and in the power of the Force," she ruffles his hair, heading for the ladder, climbing to the common area of the ship.

(Takes place during the events of The Rise of Old Masters)

[innerkonics]

Jhonny.

Request from @aliensgotswag : Hello! Can I request a Mino scenario about the girl being jealous of his pet jhonny? I hope it doesn't sound weird 😅

Word Count: 1493

Note: Okay, so from what Mino has revealed to us: Jhonny is a girl. He called her princess, that’s my only evidence...

 Loving Mino involves a lot of things. Loving his sometimes very stupid conspiracy theories, his competitiveness, his need to always be right and many other things but there is one that stands above them all; the love he has for his cat...Jhonny. No Jhonny, no Mino. Sometimes you feel like the feeling Mino has for Jhonny is something more than love, if that’s even possible. No doubt if the two of you were falling off a cliff he’d save Jhonny without a second thought, he wouldn’t even blink. Most of the time it’s cute and admirable because you love Jhonny too and you love watching them play together. However, other times you can’t help yourself from becoming green with envy...of a cat. You know that it’ll sound stupid to him if you ever brought it up but you couldn’t help it! 

“Jhonny-ah! Jhoooonnnnyyyy” you called for her, wandering around your apartment, searching under every table for the ginger cat. Mino had asked you to look after her while WINNER was away and you obliged seeing as they were going away for only three days. Mino had texted you a few hours ago, saying that he had just landed and would come and get her later. You figured that he’d come round at around this time, seeing as it was getting quite late. You found her in your room, playing with one of your teddy bears which had somehow found its way to the floor. “Jhonny, there you are.” You smiled at her, walking over and scooping her up. You sat on your bed and played with her. You really do love her, you have nothing against her. It’s just that there can’t be two alpha-females under one roof. And you are her. 

“Jhonny, we need to have a chat.” You said to her in your I’m speaking to an animal voice. You like to think that sometimes she can understand what you’re saying, but really you know that she just enjoys watching your mouth move and the sound of your voice. “Mino will be here soon to get you, and I just want to say that I’ve enjoyed this time that we’ve had to bond very much. I think that we’re great friends now.” You smiled, taking her paw and shaking it softly. Then you lowered your eyes and pointed your finger in her face with all seriousness, “but just remember that Mino is mine. Don’t try and steal him. Got it?” Jhonny meowed, confirming that she understood and would not overstep. The door bell rang and you narrowed your eyes at Jhonny one last time, before letting go of her paw and getting up to go and get the door. Jhonny followed close behind you as you made your way to the door - half excited because you half knew that Mino was the one on the other side. On the other side of the door stood Mino, excited not only to see you and his beloved Jhonny; but to take advantage of what he had learnt about the relationship you had with Jhonny. He had always had a suspicion that you were somehow jealous of Jhonny, but he didn’t really want to believe it until Seunghoon had confirmed it for him. Seunghoon had broken a promise that he made to you, one time long ago when you were probably both drunk, and had told Mino that you were sometimes jealous of all the attention he shows to Jhonny. Mino only laughed and called you stupid until he saw it first-hand. It was when the two of you were facetiming and he had asked to “speak to” his “princess”. He noticed how your face scrunched up a little and how you pouted slightly as you held Jhonny up to the camera so Mino could fuss over her. He smiled at the thought of you being jealous as he waited for you to answer the door, the thought made him excited, he loves to tease you. 

 “Jhonny-ah!” Mino practically squealed when you opened the door, rushing past you and enveloping Jhonny in his arms. You pouted and watched as he spun her around and stroked her orange fur lovingly. Jhonny, that traitor. But in all fairness, Jhonny didn’t even do anything, it was all Mino. He watched you pouting and held in his laugh, knowing that he had to make you jealous until you couldn’t take it any longer. “Jhonny, how are you? Was y/n nice to you? She wasn’t? Y/n! You weren’t nice to Jhonny?” He looked at you, a sweet smile on his face. Your face remained stagnant, you were failing to hide your jealousy - which Mino was loving. 

“I was, Jhonny and I are best friends now.” You went over and stroked Jhonny’s soft fur before making your way to the kitchen. Mino followed you, dragging his feet and cooing over Jhonny every so loudly. “Aren’t you going to go home?” You asked him quickly, before bringing a glass of water to your lips. Mino chuckled, 

“why? Do you want me to leave?” He nudged you playfully once you put down your glass.

“I’m just tired.” You mumbled, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Nonetheless, you still wanted to strangle him for not paying you any attention. You sighed mentally at the realisation that Jhonny is the ultimate alpha female and you’re just the...female. 

“Okay then, bye. I’ll text you later.” Mino waved at you, smiling before leaving the room. Your mouth instinctively hung open. Did he really… actually… just...leave?! 

“Is he being serious right now?!” You said to yourself, not able to believe it. You heard the door open and then close and you let out a little gasp. He really did just leave! “Oh...oh my goodness...he just...” you mumbled to yourself, still trying to understand what just happened. He didn’t even ask how you were, didn’t hug you, didn’t kiss you. He just picked up Jhonny and left. What you were feeling now wasn’t just jealousy...but anger. You could feel how scrunched up your face had become. You slammed your cup down and turned around to open the fridge. Suddenly you felt two arms wrap firmly around your waist and pull you backwards, you let out a frightened grasp until you realised what was happening. Mino chuckled in your ear and left a small kiss on your earlobe. 

“Y/n” he laughed, not letting you go as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “Stop I was just joking” he continued to laugh, but you didn’t find it funny. 

“Seriously, let go. It’s not funny.” You whined, hitting his hands which were clasped firmly together. His arms still didn’t budge. He laughed some more at your struggling and decided to pick you up, somehow managing to endure your punches and slaps. He carried you to the door where Jhonny sat waiting peacefully. Mino set you down on your feet and turned you around so he was looking at you. You frowned at him and he smiled widely. He began stroking your hair, like you were a cat. 

“Y/n-ah. How are you? Was Jhonny nice to you?” He paused and put his ear next to your lips before pulling away, suspecting that you’d bite it or something. He gasped. “Really? Jhonny? You weren’t nice to my y/n?” He turned you around so you could both look at Jhonny who was cluelessly looking up at the two of you, probably wondering what on earth was going on. Mino laughed and turned you around again so he could clasp your cheeks in his hands. You were still frowning and he beamed at the sight. You looked so cute frowning with your cheeks squished together. He kissed your puckered lips repeatedly, purposely making mwah noises. He didn’t stop until you let out a whine and beamed at you again. “Y/n-ah, did you miss me?” He pouted at you, you hit him lightly, making him release your cheeks and chuckle again. 

“You’re so annoying.” You failed to stay angry and tiptoed slightly to wrap your arms around his neck, he hugged you back and breathed into your hair. 

“You’re such a jealous baby.” He mumbled, you pulled away with your arms still around his neck. 

“I’m not jealous.” You stated. He rose his eyebrow and you let out a small laugh, realising how silly it sounded when you said it out-loud. “Fine I’m jealous.” You muttered, loud enough for him to hear and not being able to stop yourself from smiling. He laughed again, and so did you before he kissed you again. 

“You’re so silly” he tucked your hair behind your ear, looking into your eyes. 

“But for real, if Jhonny and I were both falling off a cliff and you could only save one...who would you save.” Mino froze, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He gave you a small smile and a slow, nervous chuckle. 

Done...sorry I haven’t posted in a while x

[angstymarshmallow]

A Simple Touch - Drake x MC, A Royal Romance Fanfic

[A little note: Well I did it Maggie @maggiegames. After our conversation, sometime later I tried to write this scene the way I think MC might’ve perceived it  in I hope greater details  since there wasn’t much time for that in this week’s chapter. This is short and mostly just a drabble of thoughts with some dialogue from the chapter. Hope you like it! ]

Hana was the only one that had good enough sense to bring sunscreen. 

Something she didn’t think of while in her quick haste to meet everyone by the beach. Her thoughts had been focused on other things. Things, she probably shouldn’t have been thinking of. 

She remembered Maxwell’s advice earlier in the afternoon; it was supposed to be a fun day - a day spent relaxing, and the civil unrest between suitors were at a standstill. A ceasefire until the next event. 

Nevertheless fun, wasn’t exactly the first word that came to mind when she thought of him. His scowl was usually the first thing. Then his teasing remarks he directed at Hana and usually at the earliest opportunity. Most of the time, it was over something only the two of them bonded over; trivial and mundane which left Hana often at a loss and unequipped in dealing with his sarcasm.

She felt the corner of her lips turn at the thought. Drake and Hana were the closest thing she had as friends in such an intimidating place. She was quickly learning that Cordonia wasn’t for the faint of heart. One misstep could easily cause a scandal. Maxwell had been essential for curbing her knowledge of Cordonian customs, but without Drake and Hana; she wouldn’t have any peace of mind. She didn’t have to be anything more than what she was with them. However, she frowned thinly when she realized her thoughts faltered on Drake again. Not Hana, Maxwell - nor even Liam. Drake. 

It was the third time today that her mind had drifted back to him. And three times were already too many. Immediately, she cursed herself for it. Shaking her head, she tried to shove him to the furthest part of her mind - somewhere she couldn’t reach without trying. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be the person she should be thinking of.

And she certainly shouldn’t be so excited at the thought of seeing him again. He didn’t mean anything to her. Maybe an acquaintance. A friend. A lover- this was the fourth time he refused to leave her thoughts. 

“Who’s going first?” Hana interrupted.

She hadn’t realized she was staring blankly at her friend, until Hana began wiggling the bottle of sunscreen at her. 

Drake didn’t respond. He hadn’t said much after they ate. His gaze was ahead, and seemed more interested in the ocean than paying them much attention. His eyes hadn’t even flickered over her for longer than a few seconds before looking away again.

It was maddeningly frustrating as it was intriguing. She didn’t know why she wanted him to notice her so much; but every dismissive glance only seemed to fuel her resolve. Why did it matter to her? Why couldn’t she get him out of her head? She was in a competition for winning the prince’s his heart, and yet her thoughts always lead back to Drake. Liam was nowhere to be found inside her mind. 

Intending to prove a point, she took the bottle from Hana with a mumble of thanks. “Here, I’ll do you.” She said abruptly, turning to Drake just in time to see his eyes swerve towards her. She watched in satisfaction the sudden flicker of surprise in his usually distant expression. 

Hana’s own eyes seemed to follow suit as she looked in between them.

Seemingly recovered, Drake shook his head at her then gestured to Hana. “This really doesn’t seem necessary.” His tone changed. It was terse, strained.

She rolled her eyes. “Sun safety is no joke.” He looked as if he was ready to object but before he could, she interjected. “Look grumpypants - you see that big ball of sun right there?” She gestures up to the sky with her free hand. “That’s going to leave angry marks all over your skin that’ll hurt by tomorrow morning.”

His jaw visibly clenched, until he finally acquiesced. “Fine.” He muttered gruffly.

“You’ll thank me later.” She replied grinning triumphantly as he turned around.

He was toned as far as her eyes could travel. 

She took a moment to admire the smooth planes of his shoulders, the way he seemed to have muscle in all the right places. Shaking her head, she finally stepped close enough to apply the cool substance to his shoulders first. Then his upper back soon followed, until her soft hands began roaming lower and kneaded the lotion into his flesh. 

She nearly hummed in appreciation as his muscles flexed beneath her fingertips. Damn, Drake’s in such good shape. She thought to herself. Her hands began moving in circular motions, and seemed to echo her sentiment as they idly rubbed the similar spots far longer than they probably should. She never pegged him as that type and yet she was never so happy to be proven wrong as much as she was right now.

She could feel his muscles loosen and relax at her touch. She couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like to be pressed up against him - skin on skin, with muscles she could marvel at. A fleeting thought that had nearly vanished as quickly as it appeared. 

But the thought had made her grip loosen and suddenly clumsy. She nearly dropped the bottle in her hasty attempt to recover. 

“Everything okay back there?”

She hadn’t realized her sudden fixation was transparent. Her shoulders stiffed at the sound of his voice. She had been so preoccupied that her hands had been repeatedly rubbing the same spot. “Is the lady satisfied?” Heat suddenly scalded her cheeks at the idea of being caught admiring him. She was supposed to be proving a point here - not the other way around. “Yup, you’re all covered.” She muttered, casually stepping back. 

She ignored the stab of disappoint she felt when he glanced back at her. There was nothing in her quick study of his expression that indicated it had any affect on him. That she had any affect on him. Her disappointment had quickly turned to hurt until she felt a flare of anger. She focused on that instead. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Put some on your face, or you’ll burn there.” Frustrated ebbed away at her. What would it take for her to break that cool mask of his? She wondered, as she searched his eyes. What would it take for her to get under his skin?

The next words out of his mouth made her blink twice. It made her stare up at him in confusion had her stomach dipped when she replayed his words inside her head. “Then you probably want me to put some on your back.” He said coolly.

She studied him. Nothing faltered. Nothing changed. The only thing difference was the sudden flash of amusement in his eyes; as if he thought of her subtle advances as silly. 

Just what kind of game are you playing here, Drake? 

There were a rare few moments when staring up into those dark eyes - she would had given anything to know what he was thinking. And this was one of those times. She shifted on her feet, and forced her shoulders to relax. She wasn’t going to back down; she was competitive by nature and so she met his gaze with a grin. If he wanted to play her game - then so be it. She intended to win. She always did. “Actually yes, I do.”

He hesitated and she watched in satisfaction as the small pieces of his armor wavered right in front of her. His indecision spoke volumes for their little game and she wondered coolly if he would admit defeat and ask Hana instead.

She watched as his cool mask slowly crumbled. He dragged a hand through his hair as she handed him the bottle. “You’re killing me, Riley.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Good. He really hadn’t seen anything yet and it was about time he was on the receiving end of how he made her felt. How the uneasiness and butterflies lingered whenever he was close enough for her to touch. And touching him even in this way hadn’t been enough for her. Her hands itched to reach out again and she tucked them by her side in order stop herself. She wasn’t quite sure who would win their little game. And she didn’t want to be on the receiving end if she overstepped.

She ignored his sudden smirk and thought better of it. Whirling around, she offered her back and brought her hair to one side. “Better get to it then.”

His touch was not what she had expected. For hands that appeared so coarse, they were gentle on her skin. Soft, as if he knew that was exactly what she needed after a week of competing with other suitors. She closed her eyes briefly and bit back the sudden sigh of pleasure she felt building. It was as if his smooth hands had been made for this; soothing every knot until she felt putty inside his hands. He knew exactly where to touch and she leaned into him without thinking.

It was over all too quickly by the time she finally felt his hands leave her skin. As he stepped away, she immediately missed the warmth of his fingers on her skin.

“Ready to go?” Hana asked.

She ignored the sudden flush she felt, as she beamed a weak smile at Hana. Not trusting herself to speak, she bit her bottom lip and nodded meekly.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Drake’s had begun shaking. A slight motion she would have missed had her eyes not been watching. His cheeks flushed lightly when he realized she noticed, and he quickly tucked them inside the folds of shorts. “More than ready.” He muttered.

When she saw the movement; her stomach had done somersaults at the sight. The butterflies were back again; travelling across her stomach until she tried focusing on something else. Anything other than his steady footing beside her, or the quiet rumbles of her heart beating inside her chest. 

Their hands had nearly brushed and the feeling intensified, changing into a warmth that spread throughout her chest. It wasn’t until he begun walking ahead of her and Hana that the sudden lurch lessened. By the time he was nearly three feet in front of them; the feeling was almost gone.

She uttered a sigh of relief. She was playing a dangerous game; one that she knew better than to play. And yet it hadn’t stopped her from pushing.

For a moment; she simply allowed herself to indulge. She allowed herself to think of a future where they could be something more than just friends, something more than even lovers. A future where Cordonia didn’t exist. Fleeting thoughts that did her no good.

In reality, she knew better. There were no real winners in the game of seduction, and love had no place for a relationship like theirs to survive.  

[seldo]

How does one defeat Donald Trump?

It's a question on the minds of all right-thinking Americans, and on mine. I don't claim to be a political genius, or that this is the right solution or the only solution. But here's what I've got so far; tell me what you think.

First, to defeat Donald Trump you must make him unpopular. His popularity is what elected him, but more importantly it is what drives him. An unpopular Donald Trump will melt down and quit, humiliated. That's what we want. We need "being the next Donald Trump" to be an ignominious fate. We want Donald to never run again, and we want any Donald-shaped monster in future to be terrified of the possibility.

To work out how to make him unpopular, we must understand what made him popular in the first place. To do this, we must look beyond our liberal peers, with whom he is already maximally unpopular, as widespread demonstrations have indicated.

Here's what Donald Trump supporters believe about him (however incorrectly) that they like:

he is not part of the establishment

he is not as corrupt as most politicians

he is secretly racist, just like them, and will look out for white people

he's a strong man who will keep them safe

Anything about economic insecurity and not listening to the concerns of rural voters or the working class is bullshit. Poor people did not vote for Trump (his voters earn above the median wage, unlike Hillary). There are also plenty of rural voters who went for Hillary, and plenty of city dwellers who voted for Trump.

So to defeat Trump, we must make him look highly corrupt, part of the establishment, unwilling or unable to privilege white people over other people, and weak. The first two are easy, the second two more challenging.

Part of the establishment

It's easy to make Trump look like part of the establishment because he is part of the establishment. He is the damn president. Everything bad that the government does, whether or not he had anything to do with it, can and should be tied to him. Every slip in the economy, every problem with healthcare, every sparrow that falls from a tree should be loudly attributed to Donald's mismanagement. Republicans got really good at this and so should we. We can also point to his appointments of CEOs of Exxon, Goldman Sachs and other very-much-establishment companies to important posts.

Corrupt

Making him look more corrupt than most politicians is trivial because he is shockingly corrupt. His casino deals, his mafia ties, his many bankruptcies, Trump University, and repeatedly welching on debts to contractors establish him easily as a cheat, a liar and a crook. His base seemed to overlook or ignore these things as "tough negotiation" or something but we can keep dredging up more tales of his thievery basically forever.

Not racist?

Making him look like he's not secretly racist is very tricky because he is openly racist. He has repeatedly said he believes his superior genes guarantee his success, and that's before you get to his many obviously racist acts, from refusing to rent houses to black people, to failing to condemn the KKK, to demonizing Mexicans and Muslims (neither of which is a race, but racists aren't very bright).

To make Trump look un-racist will not work. What we can do is make him look powerless to act on that. Here we've already seen the most action: protests on the Muslim ban and swift legal action have halted it and may overturn it entirely. Protests against his border wall will likewise do so, and legal or legislative action should come there too. Making him look powerless to enact racist policy, however, is just part of the bigger play: make him look weak.

Weak

Because by far what people responded to in Trump is his strong man persona. He claimed he could do anything, fix anything, build anything, and it would all be great, the best, yuge, people would love it. His supporters bought these empty boasts as promises, so we have to puncture the idea that he can get anything done.

We have to be careful though. If the obstruction appears to come from outside -- from filibusters and other legislative hacks, from well-meaning heroics by democratic appointees, from "the establishment" -- then we bolster his support rather than erode it. Instead it needs to come from within, and here we are aided by Trump's stupidity and incompetence. His failure to negotiate trade deals, his inability to fund the wall, his botched attempt to ban Muslims, his failure to deport illegal immigrants: these are or will soon be his failures, and we can amplify them. This house of cards will collapse on its own, but we need to make sure it falls our way.

The other way to make him not just look weak but really become weaker is to peel off his inner circle one by one. The loathsome, openly racist and anti-semitic Bannon has already overstepped several times, to Trump's displeasure. By amplifying Trump's sense that he is being manipulated and overshadowed, we can use Trump's own ego to get Bannon ejected or diminished.

The repugnant Kellyanne Conway, with her "alternative facts" and imaginary terrorist attacks, is also faring badly in the spotlight. In any other administration her repeated, obvious lies would have already had her fired. In the Trump administration what will get her fired is if news organizations refuse to interview her anymore because her every word is openly mocked. If she doesn't get to speak on television, her power and her value to the administration will fail and she will be discarded after one lie too many. Sean Spicer will suffer a similar fate, perhaps even sooner.

Next steps

What can we do? We can amplify. Every failure must be trumpeted, every policy overturned, every decision nullified by protest or local action. His inner circle must be hounded until they become political liabilities, leaving Trump isolated and impotent. But be selective: don't amplify things that make liberals angry (you'll exhaust yourself, everything he does makes liberals angry). Amplify things that make him look stupid, make him look inept, make him look corrupt and compromised by establishment ties. And above all, make him look weak. If we can persuade his base to abandon him, he will not last as president. from Seldo.Com Feed http://ift.tt/2kxWi0u

[litbythemoon]

I fucking hate that everyone acts like a guy can’t be overstepping his bounds or that you’re being unreasonable for saying he’s making you uncomfortable just because “he’s a nice guy!”No. NO. There is a certain point where it’s waaay too much.

This kid has had feelings for me since we met a year and a half ago, we’ll call him Leo. Always kind of knew he had feelings, was careful to not lead him on and to make it clear I only wanted to be friends. Then it got to me even saying, flat-out that I know how he feels, but I am not interested in him that way. It didn’t help that every one of our friends I felt like never had my back on this. Any time I would express my lack of interest in him I’d get met with the “why not?” “just give it a shot!” “he’s a good guy!” When I explained that I simply was not attracted to him in that way, and I honestly couldn’t ever see that changing I got “well you never really know until you give it a shot!” What the fuck is that??? That’s so goddamn toxic. It got to the point where I started to feel like I was a shitty person for not giving it a chance, even though I knew that I didn’t really want to. Every one of my friends that were mutuals with him made it seem like I was being ridiculous. So I gave in. I kissed him one night. Nope. Just like I already knew, wasn’t for me. It had already been a year since we had met and I had repeatedly said how I wasn’t interested. Oh boy did that open the floodgates. Now I was a selfish bitch for still not being interested in him. I was a selfish bitch for standing my ground. I ended up having to delete him on everything and putting his number under do not disturb on my phone because he could not accept “no” as an answer. Got legitimately angry at me when I started dating someone because “why wasn’t he good enough?” Then he started being a dick to me. Telling me that no one respected me, I wore way too much make up, etc. 

Now, after 6 months of not speaking to him I decided to add him back, maybe things had cooled off. He is still friends with a lot of my friends, I figured it’s been 6 months he has to have moved on by now. Nope. I said at one point just a disclaimer I still only want to be friends. He goes “I disagree.” Now this wasn’t him disagreeing like he thinks I’m lying and I secretly want something more. No. This was him disregarding what I said, as if it’s false. I point out that this is not something you can disagree with. It’s not an opinion I have, that’s how I feel and he has no place to “disagree.” He goes “I disagree with anything that’s uncool.” So I said “you know what’s uncool? Not respecting me as a person and that I am perfectly allowed to not be interested in you. It’s not a debate.” So then he says that my opinions are “wild and insecure” and acts as though I’m being ridiculous. There were a few more things exchanged in between, but that’s the general gist. It really started to freak me out. He has zero respect for my opinion, and will not accept the fact that I said not interested. He always treats it like eventually I’ll give in. I’m pretty sure he even said that to me once. So I text my best friend, who’s also friendly with him. I say how ridiculous this is and how this is essentially a rapist’s mentality the way he’s talking to me - that he’s entitled to me, and that I’m obligated to want him just because he wants me to. Will not accept anything else. But she says essentially that I’m overreacting and that “it’s just Leo lol.” Like if I didn’t know this kid, I would be terrified right now. Hell, I know him pretty well and I’m still shaken up. I already deleted him again and put him back on do not disturb. NOTHING I say even phases him that he should move on and accept it. He tried to tell me to “stop fucking with people who don’t even respect you.” So I said “lmk who I ‘fuck with’ that doesn’t respect me? Because you definitely don’t since you completely disregard what I say.” No reaction, not even an attempt to tell me that he does respect me. Knowing that there’s someone out there so goddamn intent on disregarding what I say my feelings are until they’re what they want to hear is scary to me.