#resiliency-in-starlight

[not-bcring]

dragcns-den asked: “In every moment a choice exists. We can cling to the past or embrace the inevitability of change and allow a brighter future to unfold before us.”  —  (( Makoto @ Nagito - after all the craziness has passed, seeing how things are going with the after-game Dr2 babs on the island. Because Nagito deserves the chance to interact with the Hope Boi again  lol )) @not-bcring​

Originals Rp Meme || Accepting

There’s only a soft smile in response, how honored he was truly to be able to speak with Makoto again. Then again, he’s honored whenever anyone wants to speak with someone like him. Nagito knows well what he means by those words, and he certainly believes them himself. Though sometimes, to keep that brighter future, certain weeds have to be trimmed. Or at least, one would think so.

“I would expect no less from you, after all you’ve made quite a change for the future in the name of hope yourself. Those who cling to the past are who need to be cut out so that the future can remain bright, or it’ll simply keep cycling back because of those few people, don’t you think?”

✩   「 resiliency-in-starlight 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Nagito is an interesting soul, to say the least, and Makoto knows that he’s barely scratched the surface of what lies within the fellow Lucky Student. Although, now that he’s known more commonly as the Ultimate Hope, perhaps Makoto no longer has any right to the title? Yet, no matter what he’s called, Makoto still feels a tie towards it. ‘ Luck ’ is what brought him to Hope’s Peak. To his friends. And yes, to the tragedy that befell them... But also eventual victories, hard-earned through sacrifice and stubbornness, and the bonds forged in the fires of the Hell that overtook the world. A devastation that is slowly but surely being set right, greatly thanks to the help of those now confined to Jabberwock Island.

Sometimes, Makoto wonders if the others comprehend just how much he owes to them... To everyone. With as much praise AND criticism as he gets— especially now as he works to rebuild Hope’s Peak and the symbol it provides for the world —it can be easy to feel like other get overlooked in a shadow he has no desire to cast, nor does he try to make span any longer than it already has. Unfortunately, the previously despaired don’t have much choice but to remain set aside... for the moment. Makoto has no intention of forcing them on the sidelines inevitably. They deserve the same fresh start that everyone else is getting. 

Whether or not they believe it. 

❝  Well... I wouldn’t put it exactly that way.  ❞  Makoto replies, a light, slightly-nervous laugh lacing his words. Not out of any unease towards Nagito, but simply a habit of sharing his opinions that he has yet to shake. After a lifetime of people preferring he be quiet, it’s difficult to accept that his words hold as much value as others now seem to think. Looking at Nagito, the shorter male beams with a more easy-going smile,  ❝  I prefer to think of it as— those who cling to the past, especially if it’s a dreary one, can be shown a better way. People aren’t incapable of change, no matter how difficult that change may be to achieve.  ❞   

Looking back in front of himself, Makoto’s voice softens, as does his expression. Appearing more thoughtful as he takes in the expanse of the sky above them,  ❝  I have to believe that... Because that’s what Hope is. It’s not giving up, even when things are at their darkest. It’s seeing the light, no matter how dim.  ❞  Grimacing, Makoto’s gaze falls to ocean before them instead. Taking in the steady crashing of the waves. Beautiful... but deadly in the right circumstances.  ❝  I know that some people can be more... challenging than others. But- if our first instinct is to cut down what doesn’t fit in the world we’re trying to create, then....  ❞  

❝  How long until it gets easy? Until we cut before we even try. Before we think to try... Before we know it, we could lose some of the most beautiful flowers just because we mistook them for weeds.  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」   ❝  Is being a Simp really such a terrible thing?  ❞  He’s genuinely curious, not fully understanding the connotations. Frankly, he’s not entirely sure he knows what the specific qualifications for a Simp are.  ❝  Being one simply means that you find a thing or person quite smashing, doesn’t it?  ❞

Why should someone be embarrassed about feeling strongly?   「 ☆ 」 

[technodromes]

Meme / @resiliency-in-starlight

22. What’s the last thing you’ve heard someone say about you behind your back? 

🧠 "Eh. I think the last I actively heard someone say was 'that big guy got the nastiest stomach ulcer I've ever seen in my life'. I get to hear such nonsense all the time. Do these pea brains think my auditory canal is impaired?"

[lawain-dimensional-heroes]

@resiliency-in-starlight​

there's a quick tag setting in xkit rewritten like there is in xkit itself actually! that's what i've been using

Really now? That’s good to know! That’ll make the transition to beta a lot more smoother considering that-- while most of my tags have some text on the left with their actual named tags on the right (with tags such as White Angel | Hanaka and Prism Dragon | Maroon being examples of those) I normally tipe in the names of the character or verse itself to look for it. 

[molesreprise]

@resiliency-in-starlight​        asked:

   ❝     “I don’t get how people like winter so much. Winter is hell.” { I offer uhhhHH, Damien, unless there's another muse of mine you want to interact with! }   ❞

From ;; winter starters

        Christophe looked up from lighting his cigarette as he heard the current season being complained about. There was a lot to hate about winter but he personally wouldn’t go as far as calling it ‘hell’ unless hell was just mildly inconveniencing and annoying to only some people. Which, based on when he’d briefly died as a kid, it definitely hadn’t seemed that way.

        “ Mozt people probably juzt like it for ze holidayz. ” He offered as an ‘answer’ as to why people liked the winter season so much with a slight shrug, “ Z’at and ze znow. ”

Those were his best guesses on why people liked the season so much. People did always seem to like getting free gifts and a lot of people seemingly had a, what he’d call weird, obsession with snow.

        “ I wouldn’t zay the season iz ‘hell’ z’ough; Juzt inconvenient. Probably better to deal with z’en ‘genuine’ hell. ” He added, deciding to tack on his own thoughts of describing the season.

[sobmeuolhar]

Não é possível mudar uma pessoa sem que ela também deseje. Mas, é possível adoecer e arruinar a própria vida tentando fazer isso.

@sobmeuolhar

[fxtelism-moved]

Thanksies, you two! ;v;

@resiliency-in-starlight, @lesserden

[teapottroubles]

A Long Overdue Tag Dump ! Characters Pt. 4!

[heartfullofleeches]

Android Yan makes me think of my beloved Mono I think of them every day 🤩🤩🤩

While Mono admires the surprising resilience of bodies as spongey as the average human possess, they still stress over the fragile line of its limits. They're fascinated by the pain tolerance of a darling would can fall down and get back up without complaint, but at the same time they're praising darling they're coming up with new ways to human proof their ship-

Darling: Guess I hit my head harder than I thought.... It really isn't as bad as it looks.. I should still be fine to help you with the repairs..

Mono: Negative. Now if you'd be so kind as to remain inside this bubble chamber I have created in order to preserve your safety.

[Darling removes the pen clipped to the pocket of their shirt.}

Mono: You are smarter than this, Starlight. Do you honestly think that will work?

Darling: Im not trying to break out. I'm writing you about how much I appreciate your company that you'll never get long as I'm stuck in here.

Mono: ....

Mono: - .... . -.-- / .... .- ...- . / -- . / -.-. --- .-. -. . .-. . -.. .-.-.- / .- -... --- .-. - / -- .. ... ... .. --- -.

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」   That voice... He knows that voice.

He knows that face too. And that biting, remorseless tongue...

Best to keep his distance, lest he bother her.

She seems... busy, anyway.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, semi-public, pussy fingering & eating, cunnilingus, angst, villain!Reader, Touya being a tease, Touya being Touya

A/N: in a world where love struggles against fate, you are left broken and alone after losing Touya Todoroki, who sacrificed everything for a future he knew he would never see

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The stars glimmered like scattered diamonds across the velvety black sky, casting a soft, silvery glow on the world below. 

You leaned back on the blanket spread out over the cool grass, eyes fixed on the twinkling lights above. 

The evening was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

"Are you always this mesmerized by the stars, or is it just because you're with me?" a low, teasing voice broke the silence.

You turned your head to see Touya smirking at you, his turquoise eyes glinting with amusement. His white hair, a stark contrast to his scars that told stories of pain and resilience, was messy, bangs falling directly into his eyes. He lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you rather than the sky.

"Maybe it's a bit of both," you replied with a smile, feeling a familiar flutter in your chest at the sight of his roguish grin.

“You know, it’s ironic,” Dabi’s voice was low and contemplative, “that stars are just burning balls of gas, and yet, people think they’re beautiful.”

You turned to look at the sky. “Sometimes the most beautiful things are the ones that burn the brightest,” you replied softly.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he turned his head to meet your eyes again. “Is that why you’re here with me? Because I burn brightly?”

You laughed, the sound soft and melodious in the quiet night. “Maybe. Or maybe because you make me feel alive.”

His smirk widened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve got a way with words, you know that?”

You shrugged, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the night air. “I guess I just know how to speak my mind.”

Dabi’s hand lingered on your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re something else,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your skin. “C’mere.”

He pulled you closer, and you shifted until you were lying against his chest, your bodies pressed together. The warmth of him seeped into you, chasing away the chill of the night. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close as you both gazed up at the stars.

“They look so close,” you whispered, your breath mingling with his. “Like we could just reach out and touch them.”

“Maybe we can,” Dabi replied, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Maybe all it takes is the right moment.”

His hand began to move, sliding down your back in a slow, deliberate caress. 

You shivered at the contact, your body responding to his touch with an aching need. 

He teased the hem of your shirt, his long fingers slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. “You’re cold,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me warm you up.”

His hand moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist before slipping under the hem of your skirt. 

You gasped at the sensation, your heart racing as his fingers found the soft, warm flesh of your inner thigh. He gripped you there, his touch possessive.

“Dabi…” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let me take care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, fingers dancing over your skin in a way that made you ache with longing. He found the edge of your underwear and tugged it aside, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter than the stars above. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “So perfect.”

"Do you ever wonder what it's like up there?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and contemplative. "To be among the stars, weightless, free?"

You turned your head to look at him, his profile illuminated by the starlight. "I think it would feel like this," you replied softly, your heart swelling with the truth of your words as you moaned while his fingers probed at your slick entrance. "Like we're floating, just the two of us, in a sea of stars."

He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I can see that."

Touya’s other hand was intertwined with yours, his touch a steady, comforting presence as he kept on rubbing your clit in slow little circles, enjoying all of your whimpers.

For a moment, you both lay in silence if not counting your quiet moans and gasps, the universe stretching infinitely above and around you. 

Touya shifted closer, his body a warm line against yours. "You know," he said, his voice taking on a teasing note yet again, "if we're floating in the stars, maybe we should make a wish."

You parted your lips, "What would you wish for?"

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something intense passing through them. "That's a secret," he murmured, leaning in so that his lips were just a breath away from yours. "But I have a feeling it might come true tonight."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. 

You melted into him, feeling the world around you disappear as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with a gentleness that contradicted his rough exterior.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine. 

Dabi's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his other hand kept on petting your pussy.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breath. "I don't want to waste another moment," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I want you, all of you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you nodded, unable to find your voice. 

Dabi's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in for another kiss, this one more urgent and demanding. 

You responded eagerly, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat under your palms. 

With a growl of need, Dabi's lips left yours to trail hot kisses along your jaw and down your neck. 

You were moaning, slowly rolling your hips and parting your thighs further to grant him more access to your needy pussy, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, sucking lightly until you moaned his name. 

“Your fingers are so warm,” you pointed out within a moan. "Dabi..."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with a mix of affection and raw hunger. "Say my real name," he commanded softly.

"Touya," you breathed, and the effect was immediate. 

His grip tightened on you, and he claimed your lips once more, the kiss filled with a new intensity. “Say it again.”

“Touya.”

He tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and discarding it to the side, leaving you just in your lacy bra. His lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone, and further still, until they reached the swell of your breasts. He took his time, kissing and nipping at your skin, each touch leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"Touya, please..." you moaned, your fingers tangling in his pure white hair.

He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Please what?" he teased, his voice a low purr. "You'll have to be more specific, princess."

Your cheeks burned with a mix of frustration and desire. "Please, touch me," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, I'll touch you," he promised, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "But I'm going to take my time. I want to make sure you remember this."

True to his word, Touya's free hand and lips moved slowly, exploring every inch of your skin. He kissed down your stomach, his fingers tracing patterns along your side, until he reached the waistband of your skirt, and slipped hands beneath, tugging your panties down your legs and removing them completely.

You gasped eagerly, parting your thighs further. 

His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, so eager for him, so exposed just for him. 

Your lips were slightly parted, swollen with anticipation, their hue a subtle contrast to the deeper tone of your thighs. The delicate arch of your hood was visible, framed by the soft contours of your outer labia. Slightly parted beneath, your inner lips revealed the tender pink of your inner pussy walls.

He leaned in, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thighs. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. His fingers traced teasing circles around your most sensitive spot, never quite touching where you needed him most. 

The anticipation was maddening, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire. "Touya, please," you begged, your voice shaking.

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Patience, princess," he said, his fingers finally grazing over your slick folds. "Good things come to those who wait."

You cried out at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. 

The softness of your lips dissolved against his skilled tongue. As Dabi tasted you, a deep, primal moan escaped from his chest. Under the gentle insistence of his tongue, your lips yielded, their tender folds wrapping around him, infusing warmth and your subtle essence into the very air Dabi breathed.

“Oh, yes!” You half-sung, rolling your head back, slipping your hand into his hair.

Dabi’s tongue slid between your lips again, parting them in a cascade of plush softness. Your sweetness coated his tongue, rich, viscous, and searing, sending shivers cascading from his dick right to his heavy balls. His rough hands traveled upward, tracing the curves of your hamstrings. “Delicious,” he groaned, more to himself than to you.

You were rolling your hips, moaning like a cheap whore.

His lips remained pressed to your pussy as his hands glided down your legs to bracket your muff with his thumbs and forefingers. Your outer labia felt like velvet beneath his touch, while your inner folds greeted his hungry mouth home warmly with a sticky kiss.

“O-Oh, just like that, Touya,” you begged, tangling his strands between your fingers as you braced yourself against him. 

He traced his tongue along your lips before pressing it gently against the delicate, pink pearl of your clitoris. 

You bucked your hips in response. 

Carefully, Dabi parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing the soft pink pussy within as he devoted himself to you - kissing, sucking, and lavishing your cunt with fervent attention.

“Da….” Suddenly, your clit throbbed in Dabi’s mouth. A high pitch whimper cut off your words. Your stomach heaved, your ass shook, and you fed him your muff with an up and down grinding motion that ran your drenched pussy all over his scarred face. 

And he didn’t protest, at all - instead, he drank all of your juices, grinning widely to himself.

Then, he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in to capture your lips in a deep kiss. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close against his chest. 

You looked at him, a question in your eyes, but he simply smiled and gently tapped your nose. 

"Tonight was just about you," he whispered, his voice soft.

You snuggled closer against Dabi's chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. Your thighs rubbed together, easing the lingering tremors of your climax and the slickness that still clung to your skin. Each small movement brought a soothing warmth, melding you further into the safety of his embrace.

"You're everything to me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You smiled against his chest, placing a little kisses here and there through his shirt. 

Then, the realization hit you. In just a few days, the war would begin. The case was still wide open, unresolved. And knowing Touya's intentions, a sense of dread began to loom over you, casting a shadow on the brief peace you'd found in his arms.

The beauty of the scene was lost on you as you reached out, your hand trembling, to touch Touya's scarred cheek. The rough texture of his burned skin felt like a harsh reminder of all the pain he had endured, all the battles he had fought - and the one he was about to face.

"Touya," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please, don't go. You don’t have to fight. Your father is not worth it. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"You know I have to," he said quietly, his tone firm and unyielding. "This is something I've needed to do for a long time. I can't run from it anymore."

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the sight of him. You shook your head, your heart aching with a fear so profound it felt like it was tearing you apart. "But you're talking about facing death, Touya. You're ready to die. I can't... I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."

He sighed softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that was almost tender. "I've been ready for death for a long time. I'm not afraid. This is my choice, and I have to see it through."

A sob escaped your lips, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless. "Please, Touya, don't do this," you begged, your voice breaking. "Stay with me. We can find another way. There has to be another way."

For a moment, he remained silent, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, without a word, he pulled you tightly into his arms, holding you close. His embrace was warm and strong, but it felt like a cruel irony against the cold reality of what he was about to do.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He rested his chin on top of your head, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion that did little to ease the ache in your heart. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, princess."

The stars above continued their indifferent dance, bearing silent witness to your pain. The night seemed endless, the weight of his decision pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. But in his arms, there was a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the storm. "You mean everything to me," you whispered against his chest, your voice trembling. "Please, Touya, reconsider. We can find another way."

He lifted your chin with a gentle hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own, but there was no hesitation, no doubt. "I know you're scared," he said softly. "And I hate that I'm causing you this pain. But this is something I have to do. For myself. I’ve been waiting way too long."

His words pierced your heart, but you could see the determination in his eyes. He wasn't going to back down. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you pleaded, he was set on his path.

"I love you," you choked out, fresh tears streaming down your face. "I love you so much, Touya."

His eyes softened again, and he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I love you too, princess," he whispered. "More than anything."

You clung to him, your heart breaking even as you tried to hold onto the strength he was showing. "Just promise me one thing," you said, your voice trembling. "Promise me you'll come back to me."

He held you tighter, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't promise you that," he whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Because I don't intend to come back. This is my final fight. And I need you to understand that."

The weight of his words crashed down on you, a wave of despair so intense it left you breathless. You pulled back slightly, staring up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "No," you choked out. "Touya, no. You can't leave me like this."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. "I'm doing this for us," he said quietly. "For a future where we don't have to live in this fucking fake society full of corrupted heroes. Even if I'm not there to see it."

Your sobs grew louder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. "Please," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please!"

He remained silent. After a moment, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried against his chest. He didn't speak, didn't try to offer any more reassurances. He just held you, his presence a fleeting comfort in the face of the inevitable.

The stars above continued their indifferent dance, and you felt left alone, even though just moments ago you felt like on the cloud nice, like you were the happiest girl in the world. The cold night air was biting into your skin. And as you sat up, pulling your knees under your chin, sobbing into the night, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had just lost the most important part of your world.

Weeks passed after the final war, a bloody and chaotic conflict that left scars on everyone involved. 

Miraculously, Touya survived the initial clash. But his body, already weakened and ravaged by years of abuse and battle, couldn't hold on. It was just a matter of time.

You stayed hidden, lying low like a shadow in the aftermath, avoiding detection and keeping your head down. As a villain, you had no place in the new world that emerged from the ashes of the old. You heard whispers and rumors about Dabi's condition, but it wasn't until you spied on his little brother, Shoto, that you learned the heartbreaking truth.

Touya's body had finally given up. He died quietly, his fiery spirit extinguished at last. The funeral was a quiet affair, attended only by his family. From a secluded spot, you watched, concealed by the shadows, unable to make yourself known or claim a place by his side. Your heart ached as you observed the quiet procession from your hidden vantage point, the weight of your grief anchoring you in place while others mourned openly around his grave.

Weeks later, on a night eerily similar to the last one you had spent in his arms, you found yourself standing before his grave. The cemetery was silent, the headstone cold under your trembling fingers. The stars above glittered with a cruel indifference, much like they had that fateful night.

You sank to your knees, tears streaming down your face as you traced his name carved into the stone. "Touya," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Why did you have to leave me?"

The night offered no answers, only the cold wind and the distant, twinkling stars. 

You pressed your forehead against the headstone, your sobs the only sound in the stillness of the night. "I love you," you cried, the words spilling out in a torrent of grief and longing. "I love you so much."

The world felt emptier, lonelier, without him. Above you, the stars glittered coldly in the vast, dark sky, indifferent to your suffering. They were the same stars that had witnessed your last moments together, their cruel constancy a sharp contrast to the fleeting nature of your happiness.

And as you knelt there, broken and alone, you couldn't shake the feeling that you would never be whole again.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Guarded Desires: Part 3

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Padawan!Qimir x Princess!Reader

Summary: After an assassination attempt on your mother, she’s asked a favor from the Jedi Council to watch over you and your family until the assailant has been caught. As a result, your mother’s old friend, Master Vernestra, has her padawan, Qimir, be your bodyguard. Based off my imagine here.

Series Masterlist

Throughout the day, Qimir remains at your side. He remains reserved and serious for the most part. You continue to ask him questions about his training and the Jedi way. He finds amusement in your excitement and curiosity, but it's also refreshing.

When Master Vernestra informed him that he as well as other Jedis and padawans would be protecting your family for a time, he didn't expect you to be this way. He's never met any form of royalty. He assumed that they'd be serious and reserved. You clearly proved him wrong.

He's known you for less than a day and he already sees how strong, resilient, funny, caring, and fun you can be. He expected you to be uptight. He was ready to be ignored, but you have made sure to include him in conversations and learn more about him. It feels nice. Nice to be seen as not just a Jedi but also a person. Someone aside from being a Force user and symbol of peace.

At the end of his first day accompanying you, Qimir reflects on his interactions with you. They cause his heart and stomach to go aflutter. He feels himself growing fond of you already and he feels guilty. Jedi aren't supposed to form close attachments to people. He scolds himself as he falls asleep in the room he's been provided in the palace. He can't fall for you. It's not the Jedi way. He needs to distance himself emotionally, he decides as he slowly falls asleep. The last thing on his mind being you.

______________________

You could tell your parents were stressed. With the assassin still at large, the King and Queen did their best to remain level-headed and resilient during this time. But you knew better.

Your parents continued to hold council meetings, each of them ensuring the council that the Jedi would be taking care of things. However, from what Qimir has told you, there aren't any leads. It's been a week since Qimir and the Jedi arrived, promising you safety and protection. Yet, they have nothing to show for it.

You suggested a day trip to the shore to distract your parents. Only your family and your respective Jedi protectors would be accompanying you.

You're building a sand castle with your sisters while your parents lay under the suns. You look up to see Qimir and Master Vernestra watching you. The other Jedis securing the area.

"Do you like Qimir, Y/N?" your sister, Ada, asks.

"Qimir is my friend, so yes, I like him."

"Do you like him like how mama and papa like each other?" Your other sister, Aspen, asks.

You look at her a little confused, "Why do you ask?"

Ada answers, "Because you look at Qimir the way mama looks at papa!"

Your eyes widen in shock and embarrassment. Have you been looking at Qimir a certain way? Sure, you two have grown closer over the week and you find peace in his companionship but do you like him in that way?

You open your mouth and then close it. You're not really sure how to answer. So you decide to change the subject. After all, your sisters can be blabber mouths when they want to be, "How about you find more shells to decorate our castle with?"

"Okay!" the twins reply in unison, both scrambling to their feet and running through the sand, picking up any shell that catches their eye.

You proceed to join your parents in their sun bathing. You sigh, sitting beside your mother. She turns to you, "What troubles you, starlight?"

You smile softly at her, "Nothing, mama. Just think this was a much needed break."

"I agree," she says, patting your arm, "Are you and the padawan still getting along?"

You nod, "Very much so. He's taught me a lot about the Jedi and he let me practice with his saber a few days ago! He-"

"I'm not sure I like him," your father says.

Your brows furrow and you quickly glance over your shoulder to Qimir and Vernestra. They seem to be discussing something, but feeling eyes on him, he turns to you and waves.

You wave back and turn your attention back to your father, "Papa, he's harmless."

"Maybe I should speak with Vernestra about switching Jedis. I don't like how close you're getting to the boy."

"What?! No! Papa-"

"If suitors see how close you're getting to him, no one will offer for your hand."

You look at him confused, "Suitors?"

Your mother gives the King a warning look, but he ignores her, "You're almost twenty-one. We've put off suitors long enough. The council want you to be married by the time you're twenty-five, at the latest."

"But why? I've proven myself to you time and time again that I don't need to be married to be seen as a competent leader. The people already respect me-"

"They'd respect you more if you were married to an equally, if not more, competent king."

You scowl, bringing yourself to your feet and walking away. You need to distance yourself from your father right before you say or do anything you'd regret.

__________________

Seeing your retreating figure, Qimir looks to his Master and she gives him a nod. He immediately goes to follow you.

"Hey! Princess Y/N! Wait!" he calls after you but his cries go unheard as you trudge further and further away from your family.

"Hold on! Don't go too far!" he grabs your wrist to stop you. You turn to reveal your red, tear filled eyes.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

"The usual," you mumble with a sniffle.

He's not sure why, but Qimir pulls you into his arms. He wraps his arms around you in a hug and you're frozen. You weren't expecting a gesture like this from him, but it feels nice.

So you let yourself wrap your arms around the Jedi, allowing yourself to cry into him as he holds you.

You two stay like this until your cries subside and you slowly pull away. You chuckle, wiping away any remaining tears, "Thank you, Qimir. You didn't need to do that."

He gives you a shy smile and a shrug, "I know, it just felt like the right thing to do."

You look over his shoulder and see Master Vernestra watching you two. You wince, "Looks like your master saw all that. Will you get in trouble?"

He shrugs, "Maybe, but I don't care....did you want to head back?"

You look out to the water, "Can we just sit here for a little?"

"Sure," Qimir says as he follows you to sit in the sand. You scoot closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder. He thanks the Maker that you can't hear or feel how hard his heart is pounding right now.

[lawain-dimensional-heroes]

“Okay? (Didn’t even ask for it but okay?)“

[brynnterpretations]

THE BOYS' MUSIC TASTES ☻

Click each character's name to see a custom-made playlist for them with song-to-song transitions!

Annie January (Starlight)

Since she was thirteen, Annie has religiously listened to female-led pop-punk such as Alanis Morissette, Garbage, No Doubt, Veruca Salt, and Hole. Even when she was, by all extents, "a good Christian girl" who was expected to shut up and sit pretty, Annie held a fierce nature that she expressed through her music tastes. To avoid being exorcised from her mother (half-joking-half-not-joking), hid her CDs in her old toy chest at the foot of her bed. She keeps them on a neat shelf in she and Hughie's apartment to this day.

Billy Butcher

Billy is an OG punk fan, particularly of the British variety, with his favorite bands being The Clash, Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, Ramones, and Black Flag. Ever the rebellious spirit, Billy's music reflects that, and has since he was a child; when times with his father were particularly rough, he'd head down to the nearby record stor with his little brother and haunt the aisles looking for something of interest, where he found his to-be all-time favorite band, The Clash.

Frenchie

Frenchie enjoys psychedelic-rock (and just straight psychedelic) music in both French and English, with some of his favorite artists being The Mystery Lights, Juniore, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, The Limiñanas, and Allah-Las. At first influenced by his heavy-stoner friend group in middle school, Frenchie began developing his own tastes into what they became to this day through a lot of house-shows, concerts, and drugs: per the name, the bands he's into are intertwined with social drug use.

Hughie Campbell

So, obviously, Billy Joel — but, believe it or not, Hughie does listen to other music. He loves '80s and '60s music, specifically Daryl Hall & John Oates, The Beach Boys, Elton John, The Monkees, and TOTO. His music taste came from either the radio (Eagles, Wham!) or his Dad (The Animals, The Beatles), and Hughie prides himself on having an old-school taste in music, no matter how mainstream the bands may be.

Kimiko Miyashiro

Kimiko loves jazz (particularly its "bebop" subsection) and R&B from the '40s, '50s, and '60s, with a particular love for Ella Fitzgerald, Etta James, and Billie Holliday. When she was unfettered from the Shining Light Liberation Army, Kimiko didn't have much music to choose from besides an old Waklkman she swiped from a snoozing man on the streets of Brooklyn. For the next few years, she wore the Walkman and its headphones thin. Currently, she owns a sick vinyl player with an impressive catalogue of Dinah Washington records.

Marvin T. Milk (Mother's Milk/M.M.)

If it isn't obvious enough from his shirts, old-school rap. Growing up in Harlem, M.M. was both surrounded by the rap scene and deeply connected to the values it held (and continues to hold) of Black strength, resilience, and culture. From childhood to adulthood, M.M. has broadened a diverse taste in '80s to '90s rap and hip-hop from mainstream to obscure, and especially loves Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, and Run—D.M.C.

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 1: Mortal

1884

The night had gone poorly. As the bandits descended upon Sirona, she thought about what a hassle it would be to regenerate IF she regenerated. 

I will try to survive despite having nothing left on this earth. 

Though her body was resilient, she was currently bleeding out. Sirona could heal quickly from most injuries. But at the moment, the woman was testing her limits. It didn't matter, though; she had nothing more to lose. Death was an old friend of Sirona's. She did not fear him. 

For a split second, right before the predatory men tore her apart, she was blinded by a bright beam of light. It shot across the forest, and the monsters were gone, decimated, reduced to dust—a stark contrast to the rest of the bodies surrounding her—the ones she had dispatched. 

Rapid, heavy footfalls approached her. 

How careless to not notice another...

She knew she was utterly defenseless, crumpled on the dirt floor, her body rendered useless by the countless bullet wounds that littered her abdomen and lungs. She sensed that the end of her life was near. The woman took a final look at her surroundings; the church she had attended all of those decades ago, long reduced to ruins. The woods she would play in as a child. Sirona had lived a long time and had yet to age since she turned 25; she was permanently suspended like this and had been for well over a century. 

Everyone the woman had once known and loved had either died of old age or had otherwise been slain.  While she maintained a vigil over the town she grew up in, Sirona had kept her distance, not interfering unless there was a danger to the populace. 

She supposed that the town was the last thing she had in her life that still mattered to her. No one would mourn her. That's alright, Sirona thought. What was she to expect from this lonely existence of hers?

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her chin raised indignantly in the face of death.  At least, I want my end to be dignified…

Except the final blow never came. 

"Are you alright?" a surprisingly calm voice called to her. The voice was unfamiliar… yet… it felt like she'd yearned for it her entire life. 

The blood loss had taken its toll on her. She was veritably delirious. Her vision blurred. For anyone else but Sirona, this would be lethal. 

Her breath caught in her throat, and she coughed violently. Blood spurted from her lips as she looked up at the stranger before her. He was beautiful; his hair was like starlight, silver and seemingly sparkling under the moon's luminescence. He was tall and lean with broad, capable shoulders. From the second she looked into his enrapturing eyes, she knew she wanted to know him. Truly know him in a way that no one else could. His gaze held hers momentarily before breaking the connection and kneeling to examine her injury. 

She broke out of her reverie—Preposterous, pull yourself together. 

The stranger sighed, looking forlorn as if he, too, was about to lose something. "There is nothing more that I can do for you besides grant you a quick death,"

The woman was too weak to attempt a tough facade. Her voice cracked, "Please, don't lose hope for me yet. I am not as frail as most." 

Sirona's vision obscured further. She would be losing consciousness soon. It became increasingly hard to breathe.

His eyebrows knit together as he considered what she said. She had suffered from injuries in the past, but nothing this severe. The odds of survival seemed slim, but there was still a chance her body would miraculously reconstruct itself yet again. The blood loss had caused her to turn numb from the cold. She couldn't feel anything at all. 

"What's your name?" he whispered, probably to keep her conscious.

The stranger beside her was so warm despite his cold demeanor. That warmth… she craved more of it. How cruel life was to make her experience such warmth and yearning in her last moments. Something unattainable right before her closing eyes, as if taunting her.

"Sirona," she forced her body to say.

"I am Xavier," he suserated to her. He moved to wrap his arms around her.

Xavier. The whisper of his name in her mind and the warmth that enveloped her were the last things she remembered before blacking out. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

"Leave her alone!" Sirona cried.

"And what are you gonna do about it, runt?" The beastly boy said as he threatened to kick the little girl who was already curled up on the ground from a previous blow. The town's children had been playing in the nearby woods when the little girl accidentally threw a ball that hit the brute in the head. Before anyone could react, he began to hit her. She was new to town; Mom and Dad told Sirona she'd come from the ocean. She was surprisingly tenacious but ultimately no match for her attacker. None of the other children were. 

"Hit her again, and I'll make you regret it!" Sirona screamed louder. At this point, many other kids began to get animated, their voices rising in volume, the noise likely to attract the nearby adults. 

The boy started laughing at her and gave the new girl one final kick before Sirona shrieked and ran towards the bully; she had never felt so enraged. She instinctively placed her hand upon his head.

The contact caused the boy to scream. Her hand was a harbinger of death. She felt invigorated. When Sirona looked at her arm, it was cloaked in a green-black mist. But she was too angry at the boy to care. 

"Sirona, stop!" her mother shouted in horror as the other children suddenly noticed what was happening to the boy. His body became shriveled and gaunt, and his screams became weaker. Sirona was forcefully pulled away by her father. 

"Lemme go!" Sirona thrashed around, desperate to feel that power rushing into her again. 

"Sirona, calm down this instant!" Hearing her father's angry voice, her fury dissipated. Sirona looked back at the boy. He was snot-nosed crying but was alright, and the color had returned to his cheeks. 

"What did you do?" her father demanded with wide eyes. She looked at the shocked faces around her. Everyone looked at her as if they had never seen her before. Sirona didn't understand what had happened. 

"I did something bad," she began to cry, just as shocked and afraid as the onlookers. 

After that day, everyone in the village treated her differently, even her parents—everyone except one: the new girl. After the incident, she approached Sirona and whispered, "I don't care what anyone says; that was pretty impressive." She outstretched her tiny, bruised hand. "My name is Nysia." 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

When Sirona awoke from the memory, she recognized her town's familiar sights and sounds. Of course, they would not recognize her, but she found herself comforted by the place she once called home. 

Realizing that her anonymity had been effectively destroyed, she bolted upright from the ramshackle clinic bed she had been lying in. Oh no. They knew her face now. She would not form attachments, not again. The loss had become far too much to bear. She looked at her body, taking stock of her injuries… they were gone. It was not a surprise, but it suggested that a significant amount of time had passed. Her body had never healed instantly. 

"I have treated many people in my time, but none who could survive an injury like yours. It was as if God himself was nurturing your recovery," said the kind-looking, older doctor. 

"How long have I been here?" she demanded roughly, wishing she did not need to hear his answer. 

"Only a few days. A girl whose healing ability can cure any ailment that afflicts her. No infection. I assume the dead band of marauders was your doing? A very odd state of affairs."

She tried to keep her face from blanching. She had been caught. However, her healing process had been vastly expedited from the norm, especially after that injury. Whoever this man was, he was very skilled in his craft.

These past several decades, she had lived in seclusion. Her garden was the only company she needed. 

Sirona admitted that, at times, her life could be lonesome, but she would rather have a day of loneliness than an eternity of mourning. She was accustomed to her hidden cottage. She had only broken her unspoken rule only once. Heartless as she yearned to become, Sirona could not sit idly by while a child was in danger. 

She protected the town but as a ghost. When the occasional highwaymen and bandits tried to raid her town, she always showed them a swift end. Though she did not know the townspeople individually, she loved them in her own way. As long as she was around, no one would lay a malignant finger on them. 

She moved to stand, "Thank you for your help, but I must be going now!" She tried her hardest to keep the panic rising from boiling over the edge. As she stood, the older man laid a hand on her shoulder, a tinge of recognition in his eyes. 

"There have been rumors of a guardian spirit that has protected this area for over a century. She came to me when I was a child… I will never forget her eyes; they were gold with just a hint of purple. I was deep in the woods, playing by a stream, when I fell into the water and bumped my head on a rock. The next thing I knew, I felt warmth and light; I opened my eyes to see her. I thought she was an angel. She must have healed me," he paused fleetingly as if savoring the memory, "Then she walked me back to the town's edge. That day, I realized that my life's purpose is to help people as she helped me. I never did get the chance to thank her… until now." A knowing glint appeared in his eyes. 

I remember that day. It must have been 60 years ago now. A little boy. Around the age of 5 or 6. I found him lying motionless in a creek. He would have died that day had I not intervened, bled out, or drowned. I healed him. I asked him his name when I was finished, William. 

After helping the boy, she found a small shrine had been put up in her honor. Her people occasionally left her gifts. The one most dear to her was a simple line drawing of herself standing next to a child. She could only assume it had been William who had penned the illustration, for he was the only one at that time who knew what she looked like. 

Sirona found herself speechless at the revelation.

"William," she said as a smile broke across her face. As she studied him, she saw the remnants of the little boy he once was.

William chuckled. "You remember me! Don't worry, I'll take your secret to the grave."

Relief flooded into her at that. "Thank you for everything," she said gratefully. William's voice sounded as she began to get up and walk away. 

"Before you go. Please have dinner with my family, you saved my life. I know that nothing will ever make up for what you did for me, but take pity on an old man who wants to try."

Sirona froze. Maybe she was weak, but the prospect of a warm meal and feeling like part of a family again lured her in. At the thought, she smiled.

"One meal…"  She conceded.

"Wonderful!" 

Still… one old memory haunted her above all the rest: Everyone around you dies, and yet here you are; you just get to keep on living. She jolted herself out of the thought. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

In the following months, Sirona spent more and more time in the town. For the first time in decades, she considered the place home again. However, she would often get the feeling that she was being watched. She was almost sure she saw her strange silver-haired savior from the corner of her eyes. But,  she would convince herself that it was just wishful thinking.

In her younger years, she had been a healer. She began those duties again, helping William with his patients, and when standard medicine failed, she used her power to heal them. Her powers always came at a cost. If she overexerted herself, a deathly state would settle in. Her cheeks would hollow out, her skin would shrivel, and in extreme cases, she would fall unconscious for days at a time. Sirona was sure that if she were to push herself far enough, it could result in her death. 

For the first time in a very long time, Sirona felt happy. The feeling felt so foreign to her, but she relished in it. I can help people again. She had been a social creature long ago, and as she spent more time with the townsfolk, she realized she still was. She had always intrigued them; everyone knew she had done her best to keep them safe for generations. They were in awe of her now that she was in the open, beloved by all.

However, the townspeople were not the only ones who had taken notice of her. Sirona had killed many bandits and highwaymen during her years in seclusion. Men had lost friends or brothers, even fathers and grandfathers, to her, and they long prayed for retribution. 

It was late. Sirona often spent her nights in the clinic with William. It had been months since she woke up after the incident. After over a century, she finally regained her purpose—so many people needed help. 

Sirona had no idea how William managed this clinic alone for so long.  

Tonight, Sirona was helping William prepare a poultice of borage and chamomile for a young boy who had stepped into a shrub of poison ivy while playing in the woods.

Suddenly, Sirona heard gunshots and screams of terror. Her eyes caught William's, and they both rushed outside. 

The scene before them was something out of Sirona's nightmares. Buildings were being set aflame, and the townspeople, the people she now called friends, were being slaughtered. 

She had become careless, failing to maintain her vigil over the town. Her presence should have lessened threats; instead, it had put targets on their backs. And she would never forgive herself for that. 

There was no time to wallow in her folly, however, she needed to act. 

"Take care of the wounded!" She looked at William and saw the expression of devastation on his face. 

"NOW!" she yelled. 

The urgency of Sirona's tone caused William to break out of his trance. They both knew what was at stake. 

The old man burst into action. First, he focused on the children that he knew were still trapped in the burning buildings. It became clear to her that this had been meticulously planned. Without an accelerant, these buildings would never have gone up in flames so quickly. 

Sirona focused diligently on the bandits. The landscape was covered in carnage, and she witnessed one man, above all, commanding the masses to destroy the people she cared so deeply for.  

As soon as she left the clinic, some bandits abandoned their previous victims, turning their attention to her. She had honed her hand-to-hand combat abilities over the years but never faced up against the number of villains now advancing upon her. 

She chose to dispatch to the one closest to her first. The man aimed his revolver at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Sirona did not even feel it. She had never shown these people mercy before, and now, for the first time, Sirona knew she would feel joy while killing these men. She grasped the forehead of the man and siphoned his life force, the action healing her cheek and instantly invigorating her. She would be damned if they touched any more of their people. 

After seeing what Sirona had done to the previous man, the others seemed much less brave. The fear on their faces was delicious. 

They chose to commit this horrific act, and Sirona was their atonement. 

The other men all raised their guns and fired. She was unable to dodge the onslaught of shrapnel. She was peppered with wounds and felt the searing pain as they punctured her heart and lungs. The rate of fire was beyond her ability to react. She couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. She had to destroy these people. 

As they were trying to reload, she broke the wrist of one of the men, preventing him from firing again. Another chose to take her on from behind, attempting to drive the butt of the rifle into her skull. She caught his wrist with one hand, his jugular with another, and squeezed as she siphoned his energy. As he died, his eyes bulged in his skull before closing forever. 

She was a wolf patrolling her territory. 

The next couple of men had finished reloading and shot again with their rifles. These bullets further damaged her lungs and punctured her throat. Although she was now feeling the effects of her injuries, she felt unaware of them. Her vision blurred, and her eyelids became tediously heavy, but she knew she had to go on for them. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed William drag another child from a burning building. He was suffering the effects of smoke inhalation. William was coughing and sluggish. The man was old but cared so much for these people that he would do anything for them. Above all, she wanted to protect him, but of everyone in the town, he was the most capable of helping their people, and she had to allow him to go about his task. Sirona again felt the rush of adrenaline as she advanced upon the men; she dropped low and kicked the legs out from under one of the attackers; as he fell, she stomped on his throat, crushing his windpipe. 

The next man shot her again, this time in the shoulder; she looked down, seeing the butchery that had become her torso, blood. She knew she had to act fast. Her regenerative abilities gave her heightened resilience and strength, but she was acutely aware that her limits had long since been surpassed. Sirona's wounds could not heal as quickly if there were obstructions. Despite her fading consciousness, she needed to keep going. She threw a kick high in the air to strike another attacker in the chest, throwing him back. She used the advantage to launch herself on top of him. She clawed at his throat. The more she was injured, the more savage she became. The severity of her injuries meant that her momentary blackout was imminent. She just had to hold out; she had to. As Sirona dug into the artery in the man's neck, she relished in his screams.

In her ecstasy, she had forgotten to keep up her awareness of her surroundings, she had allowed someone to come upon her back. He gleefully clenched her chin in his hand as he tried to slit her throat. As the man she had set upon lay dying, she snapped her head to face her latest attacker. He was the leader of the group she saw earlier. He sneered at her, almost a grimace, as Sirona returned his gaze. He had brought about this carnage, he had caused the devastation of her people. He would die. Unlike the others, he did not wield a pistol or rifle but a sword. Good, all the more easy to tear him apart. She screamed as she launched herself towards him. She shoved him up onto a nearby wall.

She needed to know the reason he had chosen them to torment, "Why?" she choked out. 

He chuckled, "Because of you."

She saw nothing but red as she siphoned the energy out of him. When he was depleted, she realized how many more reinforcements there were, there were too many for her alone to handle. Blood filled her mouth, and she coughed. She could hardly see beyond the black veil upon her vision. She could no longer fight, there had been too many blows to her organs. She could only pray that her fight bought at least some people time to escape. 

At last, she fell. 

Everyone around you dies, and yet here you are.

[midgetmoth]

I did a thing.

(I made an ava oc a while back and then went “what if starlight au” and it took a while but I made him)

Original name: The Resilient One

oooo~! Loving the design of yours! Might draw some art of them later if you don't mind it <3