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outofangband · 2 years

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I reread this fic I wrote last December and noticed a bunch of little mistakes so I rewrote it with edits and additions because I’d been wanting to revisit it for awhile anyways

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

Anyways, Húrin in Angband plus a new short epilogue in Brethil

Not super gory but warning for blood, torture, Morgoth being Morgoth, enforced nudity, and unreality. vague The Wanderings of Húrin related warnings for the epilogue

He had been strapped to this table through leather and metallic cords crossing over his wrists and ankles, pulling them taut for a long time. Certainly long enough to memorize the geography of the uneven wood beneath him. Húrin wondered how much was meant to deliberately cause discomfort to whatever unfortunate soul was restrained there or if the craftsmanship of the fortress was simply that poor. It was clearly an old table. He had earned a smack to the face for offering to fix one of the legs. Not that he was any master with woodwork of course but basic repair he could manage. Húrin wasn’t sure whether the orc who had struck him had completely understood his snipe, not all of them spoke the same tongues as him and several would punish him for opening his mouth at all.

“I thought you wished for me to speak!” he had exclaimed to one of the balrogs after they had discovered him coughing up blood following a particularly vicious beating.

Indeed there had been one instance when two demons had been subjecting him to various tormentsfor what must have been hours. Agitated and in agony, Húrin had kept up a steady stream of his own commentary, finally prompting one of them to attempt to force a metal device into his mouth before the other grabbed its companion’ arm

“You cannot gag it, we need it to talk!” They had snarled. There was a pause between the two.

Húrin had actually laughed though he had regretted it immediately as pain pierced his likely broken ribs. He imagined that they had not wanted to admit that there was no point in keeping his mouth free despite their torments.

The table beneath him did not allow for restful sleep. This Húrin was fairly sure was deliberate. The uneven bits dug into his already torn up back and muscles would start to seize up as soon as he had even begun to get comfortable enough to nod off. Consequently, he had been drifting in and out of a restless half sleep.

When he did sleep, His dreams were unusually mundane, inconsequential at home but wonderful heartaching blessings here.

He stood in the small chamber just beyond the main hall, listening to Sador discuss his work.

“I began the chair,” said Dream Sador, “But, Lord Húrin, I could not finish your instructions.” With an apologetic look he held up the scribbled notes Húrin had left for him. Dream Húrin had to squint to read them and even this was a challenge. He grinned sheepishly.

“Right, I can see why you might not have managed,” Húrin took the parchment with the messy writing back, “Hopefully it was nothing important.” He shouldn’t have written it in such a hurry. It probably was important

Dream Húrin glances down again at the notes. The words have shifted to formless scribbles like those made my a frustrated child. Dream Sador looks unbearably grim.

The door to the chamber opens.

Húrin jolted. He had already awoke several times to what he thought was the door opening only to find himself still alone. This time however, the sound had not been created by his mind.

Morgoth approached him at his typical leisurely pace. A facade of casualty that Húrin knew was at least in part to hide the injuries Lord Fingolfin had given him. The thought wasn’t a comfort exactly but it gave him strength to do the one thing he knew he had to; endure.

Not that there was an alternative

He wasn’t completely taken by his pride, he would not deny that the ‘sessions’ with Morgoth himself were worse than what he had to suffer from any of his servants.

The Vala did not speak as he looked to the other table in the room, the one Húrin was not currently chained to. That table held a number of unsavory instruments, ones Húrin had since learned required more precise handling than most of the orcs usually favored. When Morgoth turned to him however the man saw he was holding a simple blade.

“Have you come to bring me death?” Húrin asked lightly even as every fiber of his being wished to shut down while faced with the vile creature, “If it transpires that my kind face Lord Námo, should I deliver a message from you?”

Morgoth did not speak immediately. Húrin felt a shifting in the air, leaving him short of breath. He imagined the other was playing a similar game to him; schooling any reactions to a taunting mask but while Húrin was steeling himself against the instinctual horror, Morgoth was likely trying to resist the urge to kill him on the spot. Or maybe he was giving himself too much credit.

He opens his mouth to break the deeply tense, unpleasant silence that has fallen between them. But something slimy, oily fills suddenly his mouth and he gags on nothing. Morgoth watches him with satisfaction for a moment before the illusion breaks.

“Hush,” the monster finally spoke in an unnaturally soft tone that frightened Húrin far more than a roar of anger would have. Húrin was loath to obey but could not think of much to say in the eerie silence. Morgoth stood over him now. He was acutely aware of how small and fragile and naked he was under the light of the crown his captor perpetually wore. It was sense of vulnerability that went far beyond the inherent embarrassment of being nude in front of others, let alone one he so hated. Indeed he had never felt much embarrassment in his own nakedness before here.

Morgoth moved the knife between long fingers. Húrin watched it, almost mesmerized yet still missed the moment the blade was first brought to his skin. The cold he felt before the pain. It spread throughout the area, hardening in his empty stomach, becoming more acute with each dragging motion of the knife. The marks were not deep but they brought blood all the same and Húrin knew that the apparent lack of force put into them was deceptive. Whatever was made here would not fade for some time, if ever.

Perhaps worse than the pain from the knife was the fingers of Morgoth’s other hand splayed lightly just above where he worked with the blade. Any touch from the fiend was nigh unbearable.

Húrin tried at first to guess what it was the other was drawing. He was sure it was a deliberate design, some symbol like the foul brands he had already been given. But trying to put sense into the lines and curves as blood trickled down his chest soon made him dizzy and he gave up. He did not need to make himself any more vulnerable in Morgoth’s presence.

“Look,” Morgoth instructed in the same deceptively calm voice. Húrin was glad for the order because it was one he could plainly disobey. He did not look, gaze fixed upon the ceiling above him. Try as he might he could not stop himself shivering as Morgoth almost gently ran his fingers through the bloodied mess, resting just above his naval.

“Look. Surely the script is one you can read.”

So it was a word that had been carved. Húrin did not look.

The fingers that gripped his chin were familiar now. They tilted his face down to face the now finished mark. Húrin defied in the only way he could, closing his eyes. The soft laughter that caressed him then felt like poison in his blood.

Many years later

Brethil Forest

The wild man slept poorly, curled on the hard ground despite the cot in the corner. He spoke in his sleep too, harsh whispers the guards claimed were in orc tongue though Manthor knew they had not gotten close enough to make anything out. Dirty nails dug just below the ripped collar of his shapeless tunic, indenting into an old scar that stretched across his chest.

He is reluctant to wake him. If Húrin Thalion is deep enough in sleep that he does not jolt at Manthor’s presence in the doorway, Manthor feels he should leave him be though he doesn’t want the guards to be his only company upon waking. He settles onto the cot that Húrin has rejected. It is far from the finest of beds but surely a good deal more comfortable than the ground of the cell, or the hard earth they had first found him on. Casting a sharp look at the guards, Manthor waits for the man to awaken and watches blood pool beneath his fingers over the old carving.

(Author’s note: between this and Morwen’s ordeal in CYHAW and my other stuff, I apologize to the family as a whole)

Other author’s note: I hope this is ok! Let me know if you have feedback! I want to write disturbing things because I want to be a horror writer

#the silmarillion #the children of húrin #Húrin #morgoth #melkor #Manthor #Sador #short writings #in the Iron hell

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fuwaprince · 1 year

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Hi blog, me AGAIN *crowd boos*

Time to dump my hurt feelings into a post before they manifest into something else!

If I begin to talk about vulnerabilities irl no one will let me go on for long... or just sit with me while I think about it and cry... they don't like to hear about homelessness and abuse. About tragedies. About my life!!! About my shadow and heartache! That's really what it is...

No loved ones are willing to listen to the gorey and intense details of my recovery process here (offline) and I can't bother introducing my cascade of problems to a new therapist in 45 minutes only to meet every other week and hope I do something besides bitch. What's the point in that? There's no medical treatment for poverty. No pill for fixing social exclusions. There's no warmth for me there.

To call it a psychological problem on my behalf would be to deny the reality that this problem exists outside of my head. This isn't a matter of mindset or addiction to pain.

I am not addicted to suffering. That is not why I am unwell.

It'd help to know where I could barter someone (who I somehow already deeply trust) to physically hold me. 5 minutes. Lights off. Barely any seeing. Barely any talking. Just a moment of embracing safety and a peaceful quiet.

You don't get to eat positivity for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No one thrived off of just hearing the words "you need to take care of yourself" over and over again.

Can offline people care to do more for each other? I'm asking out of skepticism, not entitlement. Is the world really this helpless to each other now? I don't believe it and it makes this whole thing even more tragic.

It's too much to care for, for them. It hurts them too much to listen or see me crying the way I do alone. It sincerely will bother them for days and weeks to the point of self medication and it's even worse for them knowing I'm not getting better in their eyes. Hair falling out. Bad skin. Peeing in the middle of my worst moments out of fear. Yellow infections smeared and old brown blood. Malnourishment. The times I drop to the floor for a bit. It's disturbing watching someone you've never seen before FINALLY let themselves out. Can you imagine? The quiet friend you know who never cries finally feels vulnerable enough to cry in front of you. Do you perceive him as the most fucked up, helpless and PATHETIC human being on Earth for it? A lost cause? You ask your friend to take off their bandages to prove they aren't exaggerating and they're just as shocked as you are when maggots fall out. What do you do? Leave in disgust or stay? Cry harder than them and tell them that's not normal?

Whatever you do, please don't respond with marginalization. Please don't tell them they don't matter to you because you don't believe they're worth the time of day if they won't be getting better. Please believe your quiet friend is still right there in front of you, quietly trying their best... and if you can't say anything nice at all, tissues are a great resource to pass along instead of demoralization. Is there a way to treat the severely and chronically ill that isn't turning away from them when they ask for help?

Everyone else is already on fire around me and whatever I have to say is such a hazard that they don't want to risk burning up even more by being around any emotional flares. I see the real dangers in it. So they run and scream "fend for yourself"... they treat it like it was my goal to destroy their last shreds of peace... and it never has been!

Why is that perceived as evil and malicious?? Especially when the same group of people suggests "maybe you should reach out". Oh but not to you... And not anyone who I called a friend. And not any of my loved ones or family members. Hm. Well... who does that leave besides my ugly reflection in the mirror?

Imagine your friend saying, "would you like institutionalization or imprisonment? because I am not qualified to just talk to you like a human." Like wtf are you a chatbot????? Did the Creator forget to program your empathy???????

Now I have an "ick". My ick is hearing "grow up! MAN up!". The amount of times I've heard man up makes me not want to be a man at all.

It makes me think being a man = being treated like a machine and at that point why stay running? It isn't for me. It's not as simple as just turning off a switch to escape this either.

Can't blame anybody if they aren't in the mood to sit with someone else's feelings (can be draining) but it's lame when what I get back is unsolicited to do lists At Best... Well, that's not true. Someone hugged me briefly- before scolding me for my inadequacy in a friendly manner. Someone else used my desperation to be held as a gateway to keep touching me (not okay with that btw, that's just how they choose to be and who I'm stuck with if I want to continue having rides to school). I'm starting to get annoyed and frustrated for even trying to reach out. For even trying. I'm trying to be optimistic. Pretending I know there's helpers out there and that I just have to find those people. Pretending that it's okay if I only get worse as long as I'm not alone. It's hard to cope.

Like if I went up to one of the few people around me and asked for a hug shyly, they'd sigh and tell me what I ought to do instead is pick myself up by the brastraps and start doing chores (which are conveniently beneficial for them most times- although I was once assigned "go have fun" which led to some hedonistic indulgence in Bayonetta). Chores are good to do, yeah. Maybe I should clean your place after you CREATE A MESS THAT WASN'T ALREADY THERE for the purpose of me cleaning it and see if it makes me feel any better. Maybe you can reassign one of the chores you actually had onto me. Work is a great discipline. Maybe I needed that too since I like being useful (please use me but don't just use me) but actually- what I was seeking was just a moment of comfort. A 5 minute hug without many words. Maybe just to hear "you aren't alone" but in person... reading it online or writing it to myself is nice. I know humans will always want more but this feels so small to ask for.

If I saw myself, I would hug me. I would hug a stranger covered in piss and shit and ON FIRE with a fire blanket if it meant they could go on with their life knowing a caring someone stopped to extinguish their flames. It won't matter how they caught on fire. I'll understand that things don't just spontaneously combust. I'll understand that they needed help and I won't say a single word if I can get away with it because I don't usually offer many words irl. I wouldn't wait to be asked after glancing over. I wouldn't turn away to let them continue screaming. That's somebody's person. Somebody's kid. My Earth family.

Do burning houses ever put out their own flames? Or is it always other people? When people see their neighbor's home is on fire, do they pray that the universe sends them a rain cloud and call that angel's work? Do they yell at their neighbor "grab a hose" when they see he is trapped in the second story and cannot reach through flaming walls?

I would like my next to do list to be suggested without shame... I want it to feel like a gentle reminder. I don't want it to feel like "Shut Up, Leave Me Be, and Do What I Say Instead Since You're Too Stupid To Think For Yourself". I thought about it btw and I have a long to do list as is. The problem is actually doing it all somehow.

My only answer is to go on without humanity and learn to be a rock or just be happy with the online connections I'm lucky enough to have. I can search for pictures of hugging and try to make it work. I can ask a chatbot to describe it in detail again so I can read it to bed. Wanting anyone is why I'm suffering, or am I just blaming myself for yearning for something so basic to compensate for the members in my Earth family not caring enough to take responsibility for each other? Because communities have been corrupted for so many years by hate and forced isolation that they think it's a way of life? Why keep imposing that way onto ourselves and each other?

Why do we choose "You're disordered? As in acting out of order? How about: Solitary confinement, you threat to society. Here, here's a hammer. Go smash some rocks into pebbles and it'll make the world a better place. You might learn something instead of bothering me."

I just don't see how that's ever going to help the poor human who knows what to do already and can't get himself to do it. Or can't do it alone.

Why do we choose that over "I feel you. I'm here. You're not alone. I'm here. Trust me, it's okay to cry in front of me. I cry too. I promise things will get better. You're brave. You're strong. Thank you for being my friend. Thanks for reaching out to me. I'm glad you're alive. Let's take care of this. Let's get you cleaned up.".

Can I hug myself all alone? I need to clone myself for a group hug because the robots around me forgot they're human too. Or maybe I'm the robot and I need to know my place. Crying. So much

#long post #bring back empathy #bring back love #let it return please

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infisonicosm-moved · 2 years

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i will say i do love some nice smut but thats all people ever write about now and it’s tiring seeing the same thing over and over. if you’re gonna write smut at least maybe try to bring something new to the table? or even a multi part fic that isn’t centered around smut but still has a tasteful amount ya know? all of it now is just straight up fucking and hardly even a plot with it. some of the stuff i see i start reading and back out bc its so unrealistic or just straight up (potential tw?) give off r*pe vibes bc its so aggressive and lowkey scary😬 (i get thats not for everyone but yall know which typa fics i mean)

i very much enjoyed reading ms honey and have gone back and read it a good number of times it’s genuinely one of my favorite fics. i also love the other stuff you have on your master list. i miss seeing the sweet and fun fics or even angst. like break my fucking heart please. i know that they don’t usually get as much attention but numbers shouldnt matter and ik its hard to not let it. i highly encourage you to keep writing the stuff that you write bc i eat it up everytime. i was so sad back when you got rid of your master list or whatever happened bc i love your writing and im so glad its back

I know exactly the type of fics you’re describing in the first paragraph. I love a good pwp fic but it does get boring after a while! I want lore to the relationship I’m reading about! Give me a nasty argument and ground breaking make up sex! Give me heartache that only one other person can comfort and fix! Give me sappy love at first sight fics! Theres so much you can build around smut if you give it a try!!!

Ms.Honey is one of my proudest works so I’m really happy you enjoyed it 💕I’ve cut back on my writing because of the response I wasn’t getting. I don’t write for numbers. But exposure is everything when it comes to your favorite authors being successful and a simple like won’t cut it. There’s been people who come to me privately and praise me for my work but I would have never known they like it cause they don’t interact with it. It’s hard to keep posting when you don’t know if people are even enjoying it. That’s why I always make sure to reblog and make a comment on anyone’s writing.

It doesn’t need to be this long extravagant written review but just let us know you liked it and maybe including your favorite part does wonders for us writers.

#tea time with shelly

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lauralifeleaf · 2 years

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Another Problem: Chapter 15

Hey, sorry for the long wait! I've not been doing good mentally, and it has caused me to procrastinate a ton. I am thankfully doing much better but still struggling. I hope to get back into this more next year so I can write something more for you all. That being said, please be patient when it comes to chapter updates. I have a life outside this, and I only can write when I have the energy and time. Before you ask, no one has been giving me a hard time, just myself, which is sadly normal behavior for me. I feel bad when I can't update or do anything I enjoy, and it makes me worry I'm letting you all down. Luckily, I am out of the little stump I created and back into writing this weird story. I plan to add more filler chapters (cause why not) to expand on some of the other's backstories before the present time. Also, to remind you all, you can ask me questions about my AU or OCs. Don't be shy just to come by and say hello as well. Anywho, enough of me rambling. Enjoy! <3 Laura

The rest of the lunch break was nice, besides the teasing remarks from Roxanne and Penny. However, I had a witty comeback that shocked the others before some burst out in laughter while others stared in shock. It was nice to be back and to see everyone interact with each other. I wish I could break out of my shell and be confident like them, but it takes time. Maybe with the new job, I can start boosting my confidence.

I waved the others farewell, grabbed my things, and began heading to the daycare. I decided to take the tunnels as I needed the time to myself before I helped entertain kids for the rest of the day and a break from the bright lights. Other than the occasional sounds of S.T.A.F.F. bots patrolling and pipes hissing, it helped collect my thoughts on things I needed to do before I go rest later tonight. I decided to check my to-do list on my phone that I was given while I continued walking through the tunnels.

"Let's see... make sure the rock wall is safe, fix one of the light fixtures in the West Arcade, and fix one of the ball dispensers in Gator Golf. I'll save Gator Golf for last so I can check one rock wall," I told myself as I turned the corner. Unfortunately, I bumped into someone, making them fall and me to stumble. "Oh, sorry! I wasn't paying attention." I lent a hand and helped the worker up. I heard a scoff from them before they mumbled, "Oh. It's you. Surprised they fucking let something like your ugly ass stay online."

My ears drooped at the harsh words, making my mechanical heartache. "Please refrain from swearing while you're working, ma'am. We may be away from guests, but it's better not to make a habit of it," I reminded them with a fake smile, unable to stop my automated response. "Whatever, weirdo. What are you doing down here? You need a checkup or something?" they asked coldly. I shook my head, "No, ma'am. I was on my way to the daycare to help the attendants until closing." "Good. 'Cause I already have enough on my plate." They then bumped into me purposely as they walked away.

After turning the corner, I could unwillingly hear their insults about me. Their female friend, who was registered as Karla, snickered, "Yeah, Jackie. She's not even good enough to be considered an entertainer. Honestly, it makes the others look like a joke. How could the company want to make someone like a scaredy cat that could cause an accident to be an entertainer? She's not even good to look at! What a weak excuse for an android!" They then laughed as they walked around the corner, leaving me alone in the dark hallway.

I felt tears wanting to escape my eyes as I sniffled quietly. I then hugged myself to comfort myself. I continued to walk to the daycare in silence. This was sadly a regular occurrence for me with some of the female staff during the later hours of the plex being open. They had caused me to be more insecure about my appearance than I already am. They always joked about my appearance regardless of who was in earshot. The rumors didn't help either.

It wasn't my fault I was built like this. To enjoy and do things that others could consider childish. To only eat specific foods and drinks. How I couldn't sit completely still no matter how hard I tried. I was just built this way.

Freddy always told me that I shouldn't be ashamed of being myself. It's not that I'm ashamed of being myself; it was more of a fear of being judged. Now that I would be an entertainer, I would have to deal with the constant stares more.

Honestly, I didn't know what caused others to treat me differently. I had always been nice to others and never caused any issues to make them act this way. At least to my knowledge. Was it something I said to someone or just out of spite?

I had asked the twins about it, not wanting to bother Freddy or the others, without going into too much detail. They said that it also happens to them from time to time. The only difference between them and me is that they know why they are treated that way while I'm left in the dark.

I felt my bag shuffle, causing me to escape my depressing thoughts. Chip's head poked out, and his fur looked like someone with a bedhead. He yawned before climbing up my bag strap to ride on my shoulder. He nuzzled my cheek, making me smile a bit, "Hey, bud. How was your nap?" He looked at me and shrugged as we arrived at some stairs. He could tell that something had happened but chose not to ask.

It wasn't long before I heard the familiar jingle of the daycare theme. I shook off the encounter from earlier as best as I could, knowing that Sun and Moon would ask why I looked sad as I opened the doors leading to the outside of the daycare area. It wasn't too crowded, but still busy enough that I struggled to navigate through the crowd. Then, making sure my rimless shades were on and I was calm, I walked toward the daycare entrance.

According to some pictures I've seen in the museum in Rockstar Row, the daycare got a massive remodel. The daycare doorway now had stars scattered across the wooden door, and the handles were decorated with a sun and moon to match the attendants. In addition, the inside had been decked out with all sorts of things to keep the children busy and happy. There were more slides, jungle gyms, and a space pirate-themed playground in one of the corners. It also had a designated area for naptime with pillow forts, beanbags, and stars. It was appropriately named Naptime Palace, which I thought was cute. The only thing kept the same was the ball pit under the balcony.

I smiled as I heard the children's laughter from behind the door. "You ready for the chaos?" I jokingly said as I gently grabbed Chip to hold as a plushy. He looked up at me in confusion, making me giggle. "Act like your a plush for a bit. I know you don't like being carried like this, but I wanna surprise them," I explained to him as I grabbed the door.

Chip nodded as I opened the door, going limp to appear like a plush. I closed the door before I heard the sound of bells in the distance. I looked over at the desk and saw Mia typing on the computer in front of her. "Hi, Mia!" She turned her head and smiled before walking over to me. "Violet! Finally back from your grand adventure?" I nodded, knowing she was referring to my lockdown. "Yeah. It was quite lonely and depressing, to say the least, but I'm glad to be back."

Mia frowned a bit, "They didn't mistreat you, did they?" I shook my head and faked a smile, "Not at all. I just got stuck with my thoughts, which took a toll on me. Nothing to worry about." Before Mia could push any further, a group of kids saw me. "Ms. Violet!" I turned to the group and smiled, "Hello! How is everyone?" They all shouted good as my ears wiggled in delight. "I am glad to hear."

They all began to bombard me with questions, speaking over each other as I stood there, overwhelmed by the amount of attention. I was luckily saved when Chip got fed up with being a plushie and broke free from my grasp, scaring Mia and surprising the children. "Whoa! Cool!" a young boy around six exclaimed going looking at Chip.

"Let me introduce you to Chipper, or Chip as he prefers to be called. He doesn't have a voice like you and me, but he does understand what we say." Chip fixed his fur before bowing to the kids. "What does he do?" I smiled, "Well, he helps takes care of me. We all know how I can be a bit clumsy sometimes." The kids giggled as Chip made a silly face.

Mia clapped, "Okay, everyone! Now that our surprise guest is here, you know what that means?" "Arts and Crafts time!" Sunny popped out of nowhere, making me jump as the kids cheered. The kids and Mia headed towards the crafts area as Sunny brought me into a hug, "Good afternoon, Starlight!" I giggled, "Hey, Sunny. How is your day going so far?"

"Super duper! Moony and I haven't fought once. Though it might be due to Moony inviting Ms. Mia to watch a movie tonight," he whispered excitingly, putting me down. "Oh? Is that allowed? I know she's your assistant and everything, but isn't it against the rules to have day staff stay overnight?" I asked curiously. "I made sure to inform Officer Vanessa about Ms. Mia staying tonight. Even if Moony still thinks we can't trust her."

I tilted my head in confusion at the comment. It's not that it was a surprise for Moon to trust others, but I found this weird. Like Monty, Moon hated Vanessa with a passion. I never understood why, but I didn't feel like asking since it wasn't my business.

"That sounds like fun. Will you be joining them?" I asked as Chip hopped onto my bag. Sunny nodded as he grabbed my hand, "Now, enough about me, how about you? How are you, Starlight?" I walked with him to where everyone was and sat down on the padded floor, "It's been okay. I got to meet Bonnie."

I opened my bag and heard Sun dramatically gasp as he sat down, "He's back?!" I smiled and nodded as I got out my sketchbook and a pencil. "And he didn't even bother to come to meet us?" I jumped slightly as I turned to see Moon coming from his station. He snickered before sitting beside me, "Good to see that you haven't changed much." I sighed as I smiled, opening my sketchbook. "Nice to see you too, Moon. How did last night go?"

I felt him glare at me, "None of your business." Me and Sun giggled as Moon blushed in embarrassment. It was quiet for a bit before Moon cupped my face and forced me to look at him. "How long did you rest last night?" I lowered my ears in embarrassment as Sun looked at Moon. "Now, brother, you can't just-"

"Three hours." A huge frown appeared on their faces as they looked at me. While Moon was more of a disappointment, Sun was with concern and worry. "Starlight. You need to rest, or else your battery will get ruined," Sunny whispered, trying not to draw attention to the kids around us. "I'm fine, Sunny. I just had to deal with Chip's aftermath after everyone left. He wasn't too fond of me not giving him much attention last night. It wasn't my fault I crashed on the sofa instead of my bed," I whispered as I removed Moon's hands from my face.

"After you help me with naptime, you're taking a nap. No exceptions. No excuses," Moon stated sternly as Mia walked over with art supplies for the twins. I pouted, "But-" "I'll let you use my beanbag."

I looked at him in shock before my eyes lit up. Moon never let anyone use his beanbag, not even Sun. It was a dark blue with stars and planets printed on the fabric. It was a seat for him, but it was big enough to sleep in for someone my size.

"Wait, really?!" He sighed as he saw me basically vibrating in my seat, "Only if you actually recharge and rest." I nodded excitedly as I opened my sketchbook to the page I was working on last night. It was a rough sketch of a dragon emerging from a cave with smoke surrounding it.

Grabbing the pencil I had gotten, I began adding details to the drawing. I could feel Sunny trying to peek a quick look, making me cover up the sketch. "Come on, Starlight! Can I pretty please have a look?" he pleaded with puppy eyes. I blushed and shook my head, "I'm not ready to share yet. Soon, but not yet."

Sunny smiled as he patted my head comfortingly as he went back to his little art project. I sighed in relief at him dropping the subject. Though part of me wanted to share what I drew, it was more of a challenge than performing in front of others. Though, I should try getting out of my shell since I won't have as much privacy anymore.

I stopped drawing, turned to an old drawing I made a while ago, and gently tore the page out. Next, I turned it upside down and slid it next to the glitter glue Sun was using. I then turned to another page, did the same thing, and slid it to Moon. "Here."

They both looked at me in confusion as a shade dusted my cheeks and ears. Sun, being curious, turned the paper around, and his eyes went wide. It was a drawing of him in his jester outfit and sun headband, sitting on the balcony above the ball pit. He was silent as he studied the illustration.

In one of the corners was a miniature cartoon version of his old look that I was able to find in the museum. Sunny then hurriedly took Moon's paper, much to his quiet protest, and looked at it with a smile. It was the same, but instead of his being on the balcony, it was on his beanbag. The cartoon version of Moon, however, gave more of gremlin vibes.

"I-I drew these a while back. I wanted to give it to you both as a thanks for dealing with my weird behavior, but anxiety got the better of me," I explained as I played with my hair anxiously. Sun hand Moon his drawing before bringing me into a big tight hug. He began babbling about how amazing it looked as I smiled in relief.

"You sure have changed since we last were together. You never showed us any of your drawings before," Moon commented in suspension. "Since I'm going to be in the crowd's eye more, I thought I would start getting out of my comfort zone and test myself. After all, I probably won't be getting any more privacy from now on." Moon studied my face before standing up, most likely to start mentally getting ready for naptime. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay? Can't have my favorite weirdo getting hurt anymore," he teased as he ruffled my hair.

I whined as he chuckled at me fixing my hair with a playful pout. "See you in ten, shorty. Hope you have a song prepared for naptime." Moon walked away towards Naptime Palace, holding the drawing in his hand. I plopped my head down on the table as I relaxed my nerves before helping Sun and Mia with the kids.

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0nlyposersfallinlove · 19 days

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Help me.

I'm moving on.

It hurts.

I don't want to be moving on. I want to hold on because what if you come back? What if I am enough to change your mind? I don't wanna be over you and the feelings be gone just for you to come back and us not be able to fix it because I've moved on.

It gets better every day. I miss you a little less. This morning I woke up and didn't feel so sad for the first time. Didn't think of you immediately as my eyes opened. Even felt a little angry like "omg whatever. I get it. You don't love me anymore. Shut up about it already. I'm unwanted I know, but there's dozens of girls who want me who I have to tell that I'm married cuz I don't want them. I want you."

I don't WANT to be missing you less. That means the love is going away. That it really is over. We really aren't meant to be.

Baby, if you see this, please stop me. I don't want to move on or grow unless it's to grow with you or move on to a better life with you. I don't want to be getting better and being the man I KNOW you need and I KNOW you still love and want to deep down under all the pain I've caused.

But I am.

Help me. Stop me from doing this.

Please.

Before it really is too late.

I love you.

Please realize you still love me too before it's too late and I'm saying "Haili, you could've had me back in September. Look at all this stuff I wrote about you. We COULD have been what we always dreamed of. But now it's too late."

Damn you for that, if it happens.

Damn it all.

Damn your stupid protective brain for not seeing that you're missing out on something magical if you'd just take a leap of faith. Damn you for letting your head win and changing you into a cold cynic like I used to be.

Here's to hoping that you come to your senses. Here's to hoping that I was enough or said enough to change your mind.

I hope you see that we were, and still are, magic.

It was real.

It IS real.

I love you. Always and forever. Until the end of my days.

Please don't wait for that end to realize you're still crazy in love with me too. That all the cliches, Tumblr posts, sad songs, and stupid quotes WERE and ARE real. And they were made for people like us. That you and I together are a miracle. That what we have is what everyone else dreams of. That we rule the world and we're the ONLY people in existence right now that have this blessing. That no one else will ever be so lucky. Literally "I'm the luckiest guy in the entire world.

Baby.

Come back to me.

We CAN get it back to good. We're so close. Stop denying it already. I understand why you feel the way you do because I was the same way for years. Please don't make my mistakes. Please let me save you from years of heartache.

Just let me in. Let me heal you. Cherish you. Love you. Give to you every chance I get and not take. Let me open your eyes to true love finally.

Please. Before it's too late.

Please give yourself to me again?

Just once?

One more time is all I need to prove that it's not a fairy tale or a pipe dream anymore.

Just give me a chance, love.

Let's be soup snakes again. But for forever this time.

I love you.

Please find me again?

#whatsername

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dfroza · 3 months

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

for july 4 of 2024 with Proverbs 4 and Psalm 4, accompanied by Psalm 15 for the 15th day of Astronomical Summer, and Psalm 36 for day 186 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 4]

Gather, children, to hear your father’s instruction.

Pay close attention so you will understand,

For I am passing down to you important precepts.

Do not abandon these valuable life lessons.

Back when I was young—the very image of my father,

and yet from my mother’s view, still her only boy—

My father, with his years of experience, became my teacher.

Father: Son, grab on to every word I say to you—hold them close—

stay true to my instructions as you live, and they will serve you well.

Whatever it takes to gain Wisdom, do it.

To gain understanding, do it! Never forget this!

Never stray from what I am telling you.

If you don’t forsake Lady Wisdom, she will protect you.

Love her, and she will faithfully take care of you.

Gaining sound judgment is key, so first things first: go after Lady Wisdom!

Now, whatever else you do, follow through to understanding.

Cherish her, and she will help you rise above the confusion of life—

your possibilities will open up before you—

embrace her, and she will raise you to a place of honor in return.

She will provide the finishing touch to your character—grace;

she will give you an elegant confidence.

Hear my words, my son, and take them in;

let them soak in so that you will live a long, full life.

I have pointed you in the way of wisdom;

I have steered you down the path to integrity.

So get going. And as you go, know this: with integrity you will overcome all obstacles;

even if you run, you will not stumble.

Tighten your grip around wise advice; don’t let it slip away.

Protect Wisdom, for without her, life isn’t worth living.

Do not start down the road of the wicked—

the first step is easy, but it leads to heartache—

do not go along the way of evildoers.

Stay away from it; don’t even go past it—

and if you find yourself anywhere near it,

turn your back and run as far as you can in the opposite direction.

For evildoers are so twisted they cannot sleep unless they have caused harm;

they’ll lie awake all night until they figure out a way to cause someone to stumble.

For they feed on evil the way most eat bread;

they drink violence the way most guzzle wine.

Yet the way of those who do right is like the early morning sun

that shines brighter and brighter until noon.

Evildoers travel a dark road because they love to hide their deeds in darkness;

they can’t see the perils ahead that cause them to stumble.

My son, pay attention to all the words I am telling you.

Lean in closer so you may hear all I say.

Keep them before you; meditate on them;

set them safely in your heart.

For those who discover them, they are life.

They bring wholeness and healing to their bodies.

Above all else, watch over your heart; diligently guard it

because from a sincere and pure heart come the good and noble things of life.

Do away with any talk that twists and distorts the truth;

have nothing to do with any verbal trickery.

Keep your head up, your eyes straight ahead,

and your focus fixed on what is in front of you.

Take care you don’t stray from the straight path, the way of truth,

and you will safely reach the end of your road.

Do not veer off course to the right or the left;

step away from evil, and leave it behind.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 4 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

It’s perfectly natural to envy those who are successful. It’s even natural to want to imitate them. But what about those who’ve gotten ahead by doing the wrong thing? Sometimes it seems crime does pay, the good do die young, and the wicked do have more fun. But it only appears this way; it is not reality. In reality the success of wrongdoers is short-lived. God is against them, and their house is built on the sand. Even if it seems to be a grand house, it will soon come crashing down.

•

Fathers have a crucial role in instructing their sons. It’s easy and natural to teach children about some things: how to take care of a car, how to hit a ball, or how to mow the lawn. But what about deeper things, the kinds of things that make life worth living? These are much harder. They must not be left for someone else to do. Paul wrote, “And, fathers, do not drive your children mad, but nurture them in the discipline and teaching that come from the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4). Instructing children in the ways of God is crucial work.

[Psalm 4]

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

Answer my prayers, O True God, the righteous, who makes me right.

I was hopelessly surrounded, and You rescued me.

Once again hear me; hide me in Your favor;

bring victory in defeat and hope in hopelessness.

How long will you sons of Adam steal my dignity, reduce my glory to shame?

Why pine for the fruitless and dream a delusion?

[pause]

Understand this: The Eternal One treats as special those like Him.

The Eternal will answer my prayers and save me.

Think long; think hard. When you are angry, don’t let it carry you into sin.

When night comes, in calm be silent.

[pause]

From this day forward, offer to God the right sacrifice from a heart made right by God.

Entrust yourself to the Eternal.

Crowds of disheartened people ask, “Who can show us what is good?”

Let Your brilliant face shine upon us, O Eternal One, that we may know the undeniable answer.

You have filled me with joy, and happiness has risen in my heart, great delight and unrivaled joy,

even more than when bread abounds and wine flows freely.

Tonight I will sleep securely on a bed of peace

because I trust You, You alone, O Eternal One, will keep me safe.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 4 (The Voice)

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

A recurring theme in the psalms is the dwelling place of God and its importance in worship. This Davidic psalm considers the moral qualities of the person who wishes to approach God.

[Psalm 36]

For the worship leader. A song of David, the Eternal’s servant.

Sin speaks in the depths of the soul

of those who oppose God; they listen closely to its urgings.

You’ll never see the fear of God

in their eyes,

For they flatter themselves—

convinced their sin will remain secret, undiscovered, and so unhated.

They speak words of evil and deceit.

Wisdom and goodness, they deserted long ago.

Even as they sleep, they are plotting mischief.

They journey along a path far from anything good,

gravitating to trouble, welcoming evil.

Your love, O Eternal One, towers high into the heavens.

Even the skies are lower than Your faithfulness.

Your justice is like the majestic mountains.

Your judgments are as deep as the oceans, and yet in Your greatness,

You, O Eternal, offer life for every person and animal.

Your strong love, O True God, is precious.

All people run for shelter under the shadow of Your wings.

In Your house, they eat and are full at Your table.

They drink from the river of Your overflowing kindness.

You have the fountain of life that quenches our thirst.

Your light has opened our eyes and awakened our souls.

May Your love continue to grow deeply in the lives of all who know You.

May Your salvation reach every heart committed to do right.

Give me shelter from prideful feet that hunt me down

and wicked hands that push me from Your path.

It is there, far away from You, that the wicked will be forced down,

face to the earth, never again returning to their feet.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 36 (The Voice)

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autimulti · 6 months

Text

Anger – quick daily fix with music

See the most up-to-date version of this article here

You have probably already read how I deal with emotions so you will know I don’t take prisoners. When something comes up, I deal with it. The sooner the better.

Autie, know thyself

So, let’s quickly have a look at anger. I am going to discuss the day-to-day angry feeling we may get when someone jumps the queue, or is rude, or insensitive 😡. This method works well for this specific kind of instance. A few minutes of music non-therapy will work wonders to keep those outbursts at bay! 🙅🏽

If you have some more deep-rooted anger issue, there will be a post coming up soon about that! 💜

This is how I perceive anger. Anger is a complex emotion. It is a container for other, often conflicting, but also very powerful feelings 🌋. For me it is recognisable by two distinct strands:

Exuberant energy, and/or

Painful sadness

You may experience anger differently. If you do simply use the same strategy but adapt it to your personal flavour! 🧠

So, I will show you how I deal with each separately. Remember, the idea is of letting go 🏖️.

By knowing myself, I know which approach to use on each occasion. Although I have been known to change approach on occasions if one is not successful 😉.

This is the kind of thing that can be done in a park, while working out, or locked in your room 🤔. Whichever suits you best. If you, on occasions, find me bobbing my head in and around the local parks with a big smile on my face you’ll know I’m probably just practicing a little music self-therapy 😁.

These are the steps to take:

Choose whatever music is going to shake you to the core and fill you with the emotion you targeted ✅

As you gradually release whatever feeling it is, select happier and less emotional tunes ⏫

End with happy, intense, expressive tunes that will resonate in your head for a little after you switched off your “ghetto blaster” 🎚️

Resume your daily life knowing that you Love Yourself ❤️‍🔥

It really is this simple. Let’s see how I would take each path according to my own taste and preference, just in case it can help you identify your own practice 🧗.

Exuberant energy

So, let’s assume someone has upset you. Maybe they stepped on your foot. Or maybe they just looked at you annoyed because you exist.

In that case, the first thing I do, is to clearly declare my feelings openly:

You’re a fucking piece of shit

yes, I have been know to be a little expressive.

It is 2:42 so, I tend to play it 3-4 times on a loop, until I’m bored, really.

Once I get sick of it, I start switching to more relaxed lyrics

Everybody rave now now, now, now, now, now, now …

Much more positive than the last song, right?

so I keep it up …

and then …

and on …

And some more …

And will keep going as long as necessary

180-220 bpm, sweat it out!

Eventually I will keep smiling. and life can resume!

Painful sadness

We are dealing with the same situation as in the next column. However, sometimes, if I am home, safe, and alone, I might opt to let out the sadness generated by the anger.

So, start with something like …

And you’re standing on the edge face up ‘Cause you’re a natural A beating heart of stone You gotta be so cold To make it in this world Yeah, you’re a natural Living your life cutthroat You gotta be so cold Yeah, you’re a natura

This definitely applies to whoever pissed me off …

https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/4VrWlk8IQxevMvERoX08iC?si=1e191b04622a4017&utm_source=oembedThen hang from the chandelier while drying the tears …

Singing from heartache from the pain Taking my message from the veins Speaking my lesson from the brain Seeing the beauty through the Pain!

Oh yeah, I’m feeling it … and some of this too …

https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/1JhuXhMiTBavuRXQTsGOdV?si=566fb84689bb489c&utm_source=oembed

Eventually, the vibes start to change

https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/3dYD57lRAUcMHufyqn9GcI?si=86ac4c77cd924882&utm_source=oembed

and then a bit more …

https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/0TDLuuLlV54CkRRUOahJb4?si=f6354989a9dd4a93&utm_source=oembed

and finally …

Quick fix of self-love with music self-therapy. Do you have some strategy to help you manage daily stresses? Share in the comments.

Find more information on developing adaptive coping mechanisms.

#Adaptive #CopingMechanisms #Emotions #LettingGo #Music #Psychology #Resilience #SelfAwareness #SelfLove #SelfManagement #SelfTherapy

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youfoundbethany · 2 years

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Hey you…

There are days when the universe screams at me, repeating the phrase: “if they wanted to, they would…”

And those are by far the hardest days here, and for me, personally. Because there’s a simple logic to it that I can’t dismiss completely.

(I’ve been meaning to write this for a few days but it exhausts me even thinking about doing so and then, I think about the hurt it might cause and I don’t want that either…)

Then, inevitably, the universe shifts my focus and turns me towards things like: “if it’s tough to make a decision, you can put it off until you know for sure what you want to do…” Which sounds bad, and I’m paraphrasing it, but the gist is, not to make rash decisions when you’re emotional - not to give up on relationships or people until you know, unquestionably, that’s what you want to do.

So when I stepped away, it was hard… because it was based on the former, not the latter - and this feeling that this would be all there is here…I want more, but I’m not the kind of person who issues ultimatums, my mind works exactly like the former…

But I will admit, it was a rash, emotional decision that caused a lot of harm. I kept waiting for you to move on, because then I would know you were happy, better off without me, and I had made the right decision.

(These things never come out how I want them to…)

There are times where I’m trapped in a universe screaming: “if they wanted to, they would,” but then, I realize… it’s very different for you, for us… and there’s only ever been a finite amount of time for you to try to do whatever it is you want to do… it makes me nervous that I make you nervous, because a) I can’t fix that no matter how badly I might want to and b) I fear I can’t compete with your image of me.

I keep getting afraid that I’m making a mistake here, but it’s like this gift, isn’t it? At some point, we began retrograding back to the beginning, but better. I’m a better person than I was then, better able to love softly, gently. And you’re a better person, too.

My mind has gone back to that time recently and I keep thinking about things going on in your world - and the major heartaches you were also experiencing. I think about how that was shaping you then, how it’s shaped you since. How badly things might have gone on that trajectory.

And I’m sorry these are words and not actions… or maybe they are, idk. Because I know that’s your love language… and I do try… but sometimes, I need words and black and white.

Most of all, I hope this doesn’t hurt, because I’m not trying to do that.

Just sending out jumbled thoughts where they hopefully do the most good.

0 notes

callsign-foreigner · 2 years

Text

You’re as Cold as Ice - Part 6

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader (Iceman’s Daughter)

Phantom had decided against speaking with Rooster. She fought with everything in her to not go out there and try to comfort him. Even after all the heartache he caused her, she still wanted to be there and comfort him. But she knew she would just be backtracking on all the work she had done on herself over the last few years. She wasn’t supposed to welcome him back with open arms. Not now anyway.

Phantom tuned back into the scene before her.

Nick, who had spent way too much time playing with the pilots, was now resting on Phoenix’s shoulder, fast asleep. Everyone seemed ready to head back to base. Phantom figured she better snag Nick and take him back to her parents’ house before it got late.

Phoenix walked over to Phantom, Nick fidgeting as he moved.

“You know, you could’ve told me”

Phoenix said with a shy smile, keeping her voice low. Phantom didn’t have to second guess as to what Phoenix was referring to. She shrugged and returned the smile

“I know. I just didn’t wanna put you in the middle of a sticky situation”

Phoenix nodded her head and was about to hand off Nick to Phantom when someone stepped in between them.

“I can take him.” Rooster said tightly, opening both arms to pick the boy up.

Phoenix locked eyes with Phantom and let Nick go as soon as the mother nodded.

Phantom knew Bradley was going through some internal shit of his own right now with Nick and all, the least she could do was let him carry him to her car.

Rooster picked Nick up and laid his small head on his shoulder. Nick tried to get comfortable again and wrapped his arms around Rooster’s neck. Rooster only closed his eyes for a second and turned to Phantom, waiting for her to lead the way.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow at training” Phantom said the Phoenix and the group behind her. They all waved and murmured little goodbyes of their own.

Phantom lead Rooster out of the bar, and towards her car. Propping open the back door, she was about to turn to grab Nick from Rooster when she stopped in her tracks.

Rooster had his eyes closed as he tightly wrapped his arms around Nick. He was breathing deeply and Phantom noticed a few tears fall from his eyes.

She tried not to feel guilty, but damn. It was hard not to.

Rooster just slightly swayed back and forth as he held Nick, relishing in the moment. He didn’t think he’d cry when he held his son, but he was quite wrong. He had never loved something so much in his life. He prayer to whatever being was in the sky, that he would make it back home after this mission to his son. That he would make it back home, safe, and try to fix what he had broken.

He wanted more moments like this.

Rooster opened his eyes to find Phantom looking at the boys, her expression unreadable.

He sniffed and sat Nick in his car seat, making sure to cover his head so he wouldn’t hit it.

After he buckled him up, he quietly shut the door and looked at Phantom. She was leaning on the front of the car, staring at the starry sky. Rooster made his way over to her and spoke in a soft tone

“I’m ready to be whatever he needs me to be. Whenever he needs me I’ll be there, I promise. After this mission, I’m gonna be there. “

Phantom only nodded.

Rooster seemed to grow annoyed at her lack of words. She was always quiet, he knew that. Part of the reason he had pursued her years back. But this silence wasn’t the same as before. This silence was defeating and he knew she had much she wanted to say.

“You should go on and chew me out. We both know you wanna” he said as he took a step toward her

Phantom pursed her lips and shook her head repeatedly, still not looking at him

“I don’t want to chew you out.”

Rooster moved so he was in her line of vision

“But you got something to say. So say it.”

Phantom finally looked at Rooster, and she felt the tears start to well up in her eyes as she smiled sadly.

“Did I do something wrong? I just-I just uhm. I never knew-“ she sniffled and began talking more rapidly.

“-I just never knew what happened. I thought we were okay. I thought we were good but then you treated me like a stranger and I didn’t know what I did”

Phantom now had small tears rolling down her cheeks. Rooster’s heart broke. he knew she hardly ever cried, even in front of him.

“I just wanna know what I did. Because for the last 5 years, I’ve been blaming myse-“

Rooster grabbed her shoulders

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just-“

Phantom looked up expectedly at him, tears straining her cheeks and her eyes glossy. Waiting for an answer.

Rooster tried not to admire how beautiful she looked, even when she was breaking down right in front of him. But he couldn’t help it.

He moved a strand of hair behind her ear and placed his palm against her cheek.

“I was going through some internal crisis with the Mav stuff. And I thought, that if I was distracted, I couldn’t focus on proving him wrong. That I could still make something out of myself, even when he set me back. I just started getting too into my head and thought that everything that wasn’t flying, wasn’t important. If I could take it all back I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat for you. And for Nick. But I know I fucked up. There were plenty of other ways to do it and I picked the worst one. I’ll reap what I sow. But just know that I’ve thought about you, every damn day since you left”

Phantom sighed and leaned into his palm.

“This is gonna take some time. You know that right? I know you’re sorry and I know you wanna be there for Nick. You can see Nick whenever you want, I won’t keep you from him anymore. But just know it’s kinda hard to train my brain to re-wire its thoughts on the whole situation. I’ve got issues.”

Rooster smiled. A genuine smile.

“Baby, look who you’re talking to. Legit a walking magazine company”

Phantom raised a brow, confused

“Ya know, cause I got so many issues?”

Phantom scrunched her nose and giggled before throwing her head back in a REAL laugh. She hasn’t laughed like that in ages.

She couldn’t stop, even as Rooster tried to shush her, suddenly remembering Nick was asleep in the car right next to them.

“You’re such a dork, oh god”

Phantom wiped her eyes and choked out a few laughs as Rooster wrapped his arms around her and smiled

“What I’m tryna say is, I’m here. If you’re willing to have me, I’m here. I wanna be there for you and Nick. Not just because I’m his dad. But because I wanna make a life where both of you are in it. I wanna be a family.”

Phantom slid her arms the best she could around Rooster and nodded. She looked up at him and watched his golden brown eyes stare back at hers. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

So she started leaning her head, touching his.

She closed her eyes as they leaned against each other and sighed

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, Bradley.”

_______________________

IM SO SORRY ON THE LATE UPDATE

I’ve been busy asf at work and I’m going on vacation next week so I’ve just been everywhere but here’s the next part! Hope you guys liked it, fyi this series may be like 12 parts, Atleast that’s what I’m calculating!

TAGLIST:

@justanothermagicalsara

@rosiahills22

@luckyladycreator2

@cloudederin

@mirandastuckinthe80s

@certifiedsimp14

@alanadetigy

@taylxr0

@krmy2386

@txtxdxxr

#bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #pete mitchell #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #nick goose bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

#i am reposting this fic i wrote in October cause i didn't realize all my suptober fics are kinda gone #and i really liked this one so here you go #i edited just a little but not a lot so sorry about mistakes if beta's wanna beta with me that would be dope #destiel #wormstachewrites #my writing #fic #deancas #destiel fic #dean saves cas from the empty #selective mutism castiel #cas deal with the trauma of the empty #castiel is scared of the dark #dean #cas

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 3 years

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. ��Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars fic #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x Reader #OCAC

565 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing viii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 1, 964

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“I can’t believe this!” Jeonghan puffs while he drops his belongings loudly onto the table in the study lounge, causing a few other students to turn and glare.

“Would it kill you to be quiet?” Jungkook grumbles, picking at the edge of the paper of his textbook, eyes never straying away from the content of the page.

“No. I will not be quiet because I thought football bros were bros for life!” Jeonghan whines.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s kind of concerning when you put it that way.”

Jeonghan simply waves the other boy off before he leans forward as if he has something important he has to say. Jungkook knew him well enough to know that it would either waste Jungkook’s precious study time or be something so out of the ordinary that he can’t help but be intrigued.

Jungkook shrugged and takes the chance, anyway.

“Namjoon bailed.” He deadpans. “Again!”

Jungkook stiffens ever so slightly but feigns disinterest with a noncommittal hum.

“Really.”

Jeonghan nods his head, or shook his head—it was hard to tell because he was all over the place and he seemed more displeased than anything.

“I never thought we’d lose our own captain to a girl.” He sniffs.

Jungkook sighs, already done with the conversation because somehow no one can ever mention Namjoon without mentioning you now, apparently because the two of you were hanging out much more frequently. He’s bitter. And he’s confused—because he’s attempted patching things up with you but you only would ever reply to him with curt responses than the enthusiastic ones you used to flatter him with.

JK: hey. there’s a new cafe outside of campus. U wanna go?

Smarty Pants 🐰: Im busy. Next time? :)

JK: are u free tonight?

JK: im heading to the library later. wanna meet up for some ramen first? On me!!!

Smarty Pants 🐰: sorry jungkook, meeting w administrators for pastoral care matters

Smarty Pants 🐰: Do you need help with the content?

JK: oh… it’s fine, just wanted to hang out with you. We haven’t done that in a while

JK: jimin said u finally have some free time next week? Let’s catch up! i’ll treat u to some banana bread :D

Smarty Pants 🐰: i have plans with joon. which day were you thinking?

JK: Anytime. When are you meeting hyung?

Smarty Pants 🐰: we kind of have plans every day, here and there. could I get back to you?

And that was it. The blow that Jungkook knew he deserved but couldn’t deal with. You had tried your best to avoid any personal interaction with Jungkook and he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“They’re kind of perfect for each other, don’t you think?” Jeonghan interrupts Jungkook’s sour mood when he recalls all his failed attempts at trying to meet with you personally.

Jungkook blinks then furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Joon and your friend _____.” He knocks on the table. “Bunch of nerds together.” He adds with a snicker.

Jungkook stiffens, hands clutching his textbook tighter.

“You say that like there’s something wrong with being a nerd.” He says slowly.

“There isn’t. Really.” Jeonghan defends. “It’s just so … fitting. Captain of the football team who’s lowkey a softie and an art nerd with the overachiever on campus. Their IQ’s combined are probably in the 300 range.”

Jungkook scowls.

“Haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘opposites attract’?” Jungkook asks sourly.

Jeonghan scoffs. “Yeah. Like you actually believe in that cliche phrase. Come on—we all know you’re likely to end up with someone who’s more like you than different.”

The insinuation doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, but he can’t chew Jeonghan out for it anyway. He didn’t know the nature of your friendship with him, nor was he aware of the history the two of you shared.

“Never say never.” Jungkook shrugs.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before taking out his laptop and settling into a comfortable position.

“I think he’s going to ask her to be his girlfriend soon.” He says off-handedly as if he assumed Jungkook gave a shit.

He did, and his heart drops to his stomach.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls out when he spots you slip past him at the foyer outside the humanities building.

You twirl around at the sound of your name being called, and your eyes widen when you spot Jungkook walking towards you with furrowed brows.

“J-Jungkook?”

Why you sounded so scared to see him, he wasn’t sure. But he knows that he’s frustrated because it’s the first time he’s seen you after the game where you and Namjoon left to hang out at the exhibition, despite his desperate attempts at calling you out to hang out with him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Jungkook frowns, cutting straight to the chase.

You splutter for a response, and you realise that you’re basically gaping at him when you clutch your folders tighter to your chest.

“I’ve been busy, Jungkook. I told you this.” You softly remind him.

Jungkook scoffs, and he feels his mean bone grow; feeling the need to correct you because you were smart—and both of you knew that your excuse was lame.

“Really?” He says dryly. “Too busy to hang out with me but not with Namjoon?” He can’t help how bitter he sounds, especially when he’s heard from the rest of the football members; including Jimin and Taehyung that you were spending a suspicious amount of time with the captain.

You furrow your brows at him when Jungkook stares you down, waiting for a response.

“That doesn’t change the fact I was busy.” You huff.

Jungkook frowns at you, clutching his backpack tighter with his hand as he notices the way you avoid his eyes by dropping them to the ground.

“Why are you being like this?” Jungkook accuses, tone already on the offensive.

You gape up at the boy, brows scrunched in displeasure.

“Me? I’m not being anything. I told you that I was busy and we would rain check, didn’t I?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, frustration pooling in his stomach. “Somehow you’re only busy whenever I want to hang out, right?” He scoffs sarcastically. “I thought we were good.”

You stiffen, knuckles turning white when you grip your belongings harder.

“We are.” You say curtly.

“No, we’re not.” Jungkook retorts. “If we were then you wouldn’t need to find shitty excuses to get out of hanging out with me.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You feel yourself grow more exasperated with Jungkook the more he can’t realise the fact that you were still finding a way to navigate the throes of your relationship with him.

“They were not shitty excuses.” You snap. “Listen, we can meet tomorrow for coffee if you really—”

“That’s not what this is about!” Jungkook exasperates, breathing out in a huff.

You purse your lips. “Then what is it, Jungkook? You came up to me and started accusing me of lying to you because I couldn’t meet up at the times you proposed.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw when he notices the way your voice gets increasingly sterner when you talk to him. It only reminds him of the way you used to chastise him when he was younger when he’d do something that was ‘immature’ but standard for a teenaged boy.

“I apologised!” He cries. “I’m sorry I was a dick before this but I’m really trying to fix things between us but you’re—”

“I’m what, Jungkook?” You interject with a frown. “I’m doing my best at healing?” You add softly. “An apology won’t erase what happened.”

Jungkook feels himself deflate, especially at the way your eyes dart away when he attempts to look into them.

“I know it won’t but I just want things to go back to normal.” He sighs.

You screw your eyes shut, finding the words to say before you look at him with such sad eyes that he nearly pulls you close just to comfort you so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper, gripping at the hem of your sleeves. “It may be for you but it’s not the same for me.”

Jungkook releases a sigh so loud that your eyes widen, as he attempts to think of something better to say—to offer.

“I really am sorry.” He lamely apologises, his voice sounding a lot like a scolded child.

“I know.” You nod. “But you don’t know how it feels to have …” You swallow. “Whatever. We’re good. I just need time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook furrows his brows when you turn away to stalk off, but he grabs at your elbow to turn your body to face him. Your eyes briefly make contact with the way he’s gently holding onto you before they tilt up to meet his confused gaze.

“How it feels to have what?” He pries.

You sigh, shaking off his grip. “Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m being sensitive.” You deprecate immediately.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the spite in your tone, especially when you say it so firmly and seriously when you dismiss him.

“I want to fix this—us.” He pleads desperately. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

As if his words set you off, your eyes snap up and blaze with the pent up fury and anger you’ve been suppressing the entire time.

“Me? Be honest with you?” You scoff. “Real fucking funny. Because when I was honest with you, you turned it on me and took advantage of my vulnerability.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What—?”

“You want honest?” You fume. “Fine. I’ll give you honest but you better listen closely this time because I won’t be repeating myself again.” You poke into his chest, even if it’s fierce and stern, he feels the heartache pouring through. “You were my best friend, Jungkook. You were and are someone important to me and you fucked me over because you knew I couldn’t say no to you. You knew how I felt and you took advantage of that fact just so you could get what you wanted and go.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, confused at the information you were throwing at him.

“How you felt—?”

You cut him off again with a huff. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. Why else did you think I did all the shit you wanted?”

“I-I don’t understand.” Jungkook stutters, head caught in a loop when you glare at him harder.

“You knew every bit of insecurity that I had and you weaponised that against me just so you could keep me close.” You say softly. “You knew, either way, I would’ve stayed because I’ve always been there, Jungkook.”

“You’re confusing me.” He deadpans, grabbing onto your shoulders so you were forced to stare at him.

He notices the glistening of your eyes as he feels his heart constrict when he realises you’re trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

“Well, you did it first so it’s only fair.” You sniffle. “You can act like shits fine because you weren’t the one who was attached. I was. So just let me have this time to myself to figure things out because I can’t even be around you without being sad, Jungkook.” You whimper.

He calls for your name but you're already furiously rubbing at your eyes as you curse under your breath as you spin on your heels to hurry away.

Jungkook gapes at you as he attempts to process what you just said, but before he can get another word in—you're leaving him to feel the weight of your words in the footsteps that draw further and further away.

482 notes · View notes

e-wills-afterhours · 2 years

Text

Affairs Of The Heart, Chapter 5

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

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

Hiccup's mind was reeling, both a roiling mass of thoughts and a frozen well of disbelief. His fingers trembled with joy and fury, gripping Astrid's arms, indecisive whether to push her away or pull her closer.

Her lips were agony pressed against his; soft and sweet but imbued with a venom to kill the last vestiges of his common sense. For two years, he wanted to taste her kiss again; he craved it for far too long. As an unspoken and desperate hope was finally realized, the bile rose in his throat, bubbling up as a sickening reminder of how wrong it was.

A nauseous rage rippled through him. The pads of his fingers pressed into her skin with a bruising force. He tore her away from him with a gasp of relief and guilty disappointment. He could breathe again, and he hated that. He despised himself more for resenting the parting of their lips.

"No." He muttered, staring at their feet: three boots and one prosthesis, caked with black sand. "No!" he repeated, trying to convince both of them they did not want it. Or, at the very least, they did not want to want it.

Astrid tried to reach for him, to touch his face with a tenderness that might shatter him. "Hiccup-"

"No!" He jerked away, scowling; and the proud and fierce Astrid Hofferson balked. Anger swelled inside him, feeding off the renewed energy of suppressed heartache working its way to the surface, two years too late. "You don't get to do that, acting now like you need me!"

Astrid reached up to stroke the end of her braid: a mindless habit whenever she needed something to busy anxious hands.

"I never stopped caring," she replied evenly. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. That's why all this hurts."

Hiccup could not imagine she understood the extent of the pain she had inflicted on him, and was continuing to inflict right there, on that beach. How laughable it was, then, that she claimed to be suffering too.

He scoffed, squaring his jaw. "Then, why now? Why here, when there is nothing either of us can do to fix it? You're going to marry Stefnir! So what is it about stringing me along that is so damn appealing?"

There was concentrated blame in her eyes, directed at him, as if he was the cause of everything. "I can't seem to get over you! That's my problem–mine, as much as it is yours!"

Hiccup scoffed. She wanted to be both victim and perpetrator.

"Obviously it's my problem, since I can't ever seem to get away from you!" he snapped. "I've tried, then you kept coming around and making it impossible for me to get past this; to get past us–whatever we used to be! I'm tired, Astrid. Tired of not being anything more than your entertainment!"

"Is that what you really think I was doing?" she asked, eyes alight with outrage.

"Am I wrong?"

"I don't get any pleasure from this, Hiccup! Don't you think I would've stopped it if I could? But it's you; it's everything that is so infuriatingly you!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Let me just become someone else to make your life simpler!" Hiccup snapped.

He did not know why they continued to shout and insult when it accomplished nothing. Before the lingering ghosts of old, mutual attraction came to light, there was nothing to debate, nothing to lament. Their misery was their own, and there was nothing to be gained between them. It would have been better to remain ignorant. There were no prizes to be won for their candor now.

"I don't want you to be anyone else, Hiccup! I just want..." Astrid smoothed her hands over her hair, glancing toward the night sky.

"What? Want what? Me, to be content with being your man on the side? To act like the past two years didn't happen?"

Astrid stared at him, her gaze unwavering as it bore into him with its disarming significance."You. Hiccup, I want you." Her voice was faint and small, barely above a whisper; defeated and vulnerable in a way Hiccup was not prepared to handle. Not when that tone was wrapped in those words. "I want you to myself," she added, "and I want you to come alive again, like you used to be. You're the one I want, not Stefnir."

And there it was. The final blow laid, in the admission that she wanted him.

Hiccup could not bear the weight of his unhappiness any longer. Two years of a meticulously crafted wall between himself and his feelings crumbled in an instant. Knowing Astrid's heart made everything impossibly worse, because there was no erasing it from his mind as they trudged down their diverging paths. She was unobtainable, wanting him while she was with her husband-to-be; and Hiccup, wanting her still while he was with his future wife, whomever that happened to be. Looks of longing would always pass between them, around Berk and in the Great Hall; but they would go home to other people with the knowledge someone else was touching the very skin their fingers yearned for.

His chest tightened. For the first time in a while, he was truly vulnerable, and Astrid could destroy him totally if she desired it.

"Don't," he pleaded, voice breaking. He stepped back, shaking his head with an extended hand to keep her at bay.

"This whole thing is a mess I don't know how to un-complicate," Astrid took a step forward, advancing on him while he was falling apart.

He was unable to do anything but stare into those plaintive blue eyes, gorgeous and damning. Her hand slid over his shoulder, down the ridge of his collarbone to his chest, stinging him with its unnecessary affection.

"Don't," he practically choked, seizing her wrist to stop its lethal descent.

"I should do what's expected of me and be happy with Stefnir. I've really tried, you know. I don't have much of a choice. It was supposed to be easy for me because doing what's expected is all I've ever done, but...I just can't..." She hesitated, caught on her words. The entire world seemed to stop spinning for them. "I just can't seem to fall out of love with you."

The proverbial coil in Hiccup's stomach snapped. He could not speak; he had no more words to give. He was transfixed by his hand on her arm, and her hand on his chest. It was the first contact between them in a long while that was not repulsive, but no other touch could compare to how badly it hurt.

Astrid's other hand caressed his cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed as her thumb brushed over his skin. He supposed it was meant to be comforting, like the way she swept her searing fingertips over the angles of his face, coming to rest feather-light on his chin. She traced the old scar there. Then, that same torturous hand was gliding around to the back of his head, through his hair, with an almost demanding reassurance. Feel better, it insisted; be okay with this.

He surrendered to her, leaning forward as her touch urged him to do, until his forehead was against hers. Everything in him felt limp and expended, so he relied on the support from the same person who had beaten him down until he had no fight left. He released her wrist and placed his hand on her lower back, wanting her closer to him, for he had no more strength to push her away. He wanted to give in and be consumed by the fire.

She had always made him so woefully pathetic.

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

Astrid's breath hitched when Hiccup guided her body up against him. She had forgotten how gentle he could be, especially when he had been fuming at her only moments before.

There had been a change in him–a relenting that she had not anticipated: an instant failing of his temper. She felt the tension evaporate from his body, morphing into palpable defeat. She had not intended for things to unfold that way. She had only wanted to talk to him, to explain; but then Hiccup's lips had been as wonderful as she imagined they would be, even two years later.

She should not have kissed him and she knew it.

The sluice gate opened to release a torrent she was not sure either one of them could stop now. He had thought she was toying with him; that she somehow liked all those days enduring his cool indifference and the melancholy of braiding his hair. He did not understand that it was an addiction, that she was compelled to be near him by something stronger than herself. If her presence was painful for him, then his was equally as painful for her. She could not keep herself from placing her hand on the glowing iron, burned by the fact that she was getting married ,and it was not to Hiccup. But it should have been, though it was never supposed to be.

Her hands roamed over him, exploring what was familiar and strange: the maturing form of the boyish frame she once knew well. His back and shoulders were broader, more defined, from riding dragons and a heavy blacksmith's hammer. He was solid beneath his tunic like she never would have guessed. He was still tall and lanky like the boy she initially fell for, but with the new, subtle musculature of the man she fiercely wanted. He was Hiccup, with all the unique allure of his inelegant awkwardness that kept her tethered, spinning helpless in his gravity.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his. He withdrew slightly, but she cradled his head and held him in distressing proximity. She could sense his discomfort, see the clenching of his jaw, and feel the reluctance in his touch.

"Why?" he murmured, frayed. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"You know why," was her unsatisfactory reply; but she had already said it once: four letters of emotional condemnation. She would not explain herself a second time.

Their noses brushed as they shared a breath, hot, moist, and teeming with the energy of a gathering storm. Astrid could smell him: a combination of soot from the forge, leather, and the salt of the sea breeze that permeated everything around them.

"Hiccup," she whispered, imploring him for an equal response she had no right to ask of him.

Her head tilted, seeking the faintest contact that was jarring to the core as her upper lip skimmed across his. She felt every nerve, every fiber, thrumming with a need for another taste of him. Just one more shot.

"We shouldn't do this," he said, though his words held no real conviction. She could feel the enunciation of his words as their mouths hovered so close that the space between them was negligible. "We shouldn't..."

Then everything that was prudent and wise was lost in the way their lips melded together, firm and desperate. There was a rush of satisfaction, and Astrid hoped he felt it too; because that kiss, mutually sought, was incomparable to any other sense of fulfillment she had ever known.

She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the warmth of his skin in her palms like a promise that he would stay; that he would not recoil again.

He was kissing her back, slow and uncertain. With a conceited thrill, she realized no one else knew his lips as she did; and with a wave of shame, she knew he could not claim the same exclusivity. So, she kissed him harder, more fervently; crushing their mouths together in the hopes it would erase any traces of Stefnir that lingered there. She reveled in giving Hiccup what should've been his.

At that point, with boundaries crossed, it did not matter what was supposed to have been. After all, their people were never meant to live with dragons. Astrid was not supposed to have noticed the scrawny, fumbling boy who was never going to amount to anything great. She was always supposed to marry Stefnir–that had been decided long ago; and she should have never found a distraction from that duty to her family. But Hiccup had changed the course of everything that ought to have been, setting a new trajectory that wrested her violently from the perfect plan that had been laid out for her life. Just like that, he was at the center of everything. What was supposed to be was smothered to death by what actually was: his lips moving against her own.

She captured his bottom lip when breathing was imminent, drawing back with a parting suckle that she never felt Stefnir deserved. But he probably did. He was her intended, and he deserved it in a way Hiccup did not. Yet, there she stood miles from home, wrapped up in the attention of a man she could never be with like it was the last time. It could very well be the last time, if one of them managed to come to their senses.

It really needed to be the last time, for their sanity, for their dignity; and for the truth that it was never going to go anywhere but face-first into the dirt.

But, Odin help her. Astrid would never let it be the last time.

Hiccup gazed at her with a conflicted desire, breathing a little too heavily to be alright with any of it. His hand was still insecure and conspicuous on her back. He held her close to him, but not close enough.

She inched forward, feeling the rapturous guilt as her body fit against his with a flawlessness that insulted her scruples. Hiccup shuddered–or maybe she did–and his arms came around her in the death throes of his reservations. Stefnir faded into a distant second thought that was nearly imperceptible as Hiccup initiated another, more assured kiss.

Her hand ran through his hair; soft russet between her fingers that were no longer encumbered by false pretenses. Her other hand returned to his chest, gripping his tunic because it was the least dangerous thing she could do with it.

Somehow, she thought she could take a breath with their lips still connected, but Hiccup persisted; and everything became open-mouthed and ragged gasps. Suddenly, they had bounded into new territory, hot and urgent–and further than she had ever gone with Stefnir. The kiss was terrifying and exciting, wonderful and wrong. She leaned into Hiccup, coming up on her toes just as his knees buckled. They fell, and Hiccup caught himself. He was half-sitting, half-lying, propped up by one hand as Astrid landed in his lap, straddling him on the damp, black sand. Their position was ridiculous and compromising; perfectly shameless as if they had coordinated it.

And they did not stop. Not even a moment's pause to collect themselves.

She yanked on his clothes, dragging him up to meet her by fistfuls of green tunic. Two years of trying to behave, of trying to move on like a couple of mature adults, was wasted effort now. They had been contents under pressure, fated to explode in either screaming or colliding passions; or both, as it so happened.

Their kiss was clumsy and aggressive, too much grazing of teeth. Then Astrid found his tongue, coaxing it with a timid flick of her own. She melted into him when he responded in kind. A whimper escaped her and Hiccup sat up straighter, tightening his grip on her arms. His hold was possessive and it made her dizzy. She battled him, brushing her tongue against his in a bid for dominance; because they were equally matched in foolish desire and brazen stupidity.

His hands traveled down her arms with deliberate pressure, truly feeling and learning her. Astrid was too aware of his fingers and his blacksmith's callouses. Her arms were innocent expanses of flesh, but every bit of skin Hiccup touched became an erogenous zone. And they were heat: two blazing entities suffocating as they burned up all the air between them.

She was stroking him, rubbing over his chest like she was trying to ignite more sparks; stir up more friction. There would be nothing left of those pitiful, anguished teens. What would emerge from their ashes was anyone's guess. Maybe something beautiful, but likely something more tragic. The present was all Astrid could think about; not tomorrow or the next day. Not the regret, nor the mortification; not the queasiness in her stomach whenever she looked at Hiccup as she hung on Stefnir like the dutiful bride.

With much difficulty, Astrid wrenched her mouth from his. She stared into his eyes, so dark in the silver light of the evening. They both were breathless.

She could not bear to think about the humiliation to come; and though Hiccup was the only other person who would know, it was disconcerting because it was him. He mattered; what he thought, what he felt. Would he blame her? Hate her? Resent her for the heavier load they now had to carry?

"Hiccup," she murmured, moist lips brushing his cheek, "I shouldn't have...I'm sorry." Because an apology was in order, though she could not pinpoint one thing. She was sorry for all of it.

Yes, a little remorse was called for as she ground her hips down into his lap.

"This is wrong," he insisted, grasping her waist as her body rolled beneath his hands.

"I know, I know." She tilted her head back with a frustrated, hungry moan.

Hiccup closed his eyes, leaning forward until his head rested just beneath her collarbone, and his face was flirting with the valley of her breasts. She held him there, embracing him and gazing up at the unblinking, voyeuristic stars. He held onto her hips, mindful of the spikes of her skirt. She moved over him, dragging woolen leggings over leather.

"We have to stop this," he rasped, contrary to the way he pulled her closer. He mapped her contours as she rocked their lower bodies together.

Astrid wanted the fabric barriers gone. She wanted to feel the warmth of his fingertips gliding over her thighs; and his breath tickling her breasts. But that would kill them. If nothing else, that surely would.

"Hiccup, I don't want to stop," she admitted.

He had to do it. As unfair as it was, another burden was on him. Astrid could not be the one to end their tryst; to choose to submit to her conscience and be faithful to Stefnir. She had indulged too much; drank too greedily from the forbidden. Hiccup had to be the responsible one that pushed her away, rebuffing her advances for the sake of their mutual sanity.

He glanced up at her, and she captured his lips. There was no way she could not kiss him. She was not strong enough to resist him anymore.

"This won't go anywhere," he murmured between fervent pecks. "This...we're only doing more damage."

Astrid knew that, but she could not bring herself to care as much as she should. Astrid moaned against his thin lips, absorbing every last bit of pleasure from their indiscretion. She could feel his excitement, swollen and hard, against her inner thigh. The awareness of his arousal turned her blood to fire.

"Tell me to stop," she pleaded. "Hiccup, you have to tell me-"

A firm, lengthy kiss interrupted her. It was scalding.

"I won't," he told her. "I can't."

"Why?" Their mouths ghosted over one another, teasing that time.

"Because I can't seem to fall out of love with you, either." He answered.

Astrid sighed, tasting and savoring the words in the breath they shared.

"Because I'm an idiot," he added.

"Hiccup..."

She groped at his belt, absent of any higher thought as the buckle clinked enticingly.

Then Toothless warbled, and it snapped Hiccup out of his trance. His brow knitted together over half-lidded eyes, and Astrid felt his caresses falter. His eyes flickered down to her staggering attempt to undress him; and there was the shameful rush she had been waiting for: the inevitable result of throwing prudence to the wind.

"You have to get off of me," Hiccup said, common sense returning with a vengeance. "Y-you have to-"

Astrid scrambled off his lap, covering her mouth to stifle the sudden urge to vomit. She could not look at him, staring out at the black waves glimmering so benign in the moonlight. Their last kiss was still tingling on her lips, beseeching for more. She despised herself for it. What had transpired between them, so desperate and brief, was over. All that remained in the aftermath was embarrassment and the threat of bitterness to follow.

"I'm sorry." Her throat was dry and her voice, hoarse. She swallowed hard and strode toward Stormfly, eyes downcast.

She was going to flee that beach and hurry home to Stefnir. She would never go near Hiccup again; she would spend the rest of her life as the loyal wife Stefnir expected her to be. No more blurred lines, overstepped boundaries, or challenges to convention.

"Stop," Hiccup said gently, and it was a request. Long fingers encircled her wrist with the sweetest grip. "Wait."

Astrid sighed. Turning back to him, she willed herself to hold it together; to retain some self-respect. She was the instigator, and she knew it. He knew it. She had propelled them into calamity, trying to step back when it became too real, making an already horrendous situation more complicated because she was selfish.

"I'll go back to Stefnir," she declared. "I'll leave you alone. I won't speak of this to anyone. You can just-"

Hiccup kissed her, and she wanted to disappear, closing her eyes and grimacing. He had shook his head while she spoke, then boldly claimed her lips to add further insult to reason; and it was a deplorable thing, because she could only relish in it in spite of her reservations.

"I don't want that and neither do you," he replied, sounding annoyed, fed up with her hurtful vacillating.

Astrid did not know where he had found the sudden confidence to speak for them both, even if it was true.

She stepped back from him into the open arms of her renewed sense of responsibility, because it was safe there. Everything was predictable, and everything was simpler.

She mounted Stormfly, tucking her hair behind her ears with trembling fingers.

"I'm going back to Berk. No one knows I left. They'll be looking for me." She blurted out before Hiccup could argue.

She was going back to Stefnir and her parents; back to the Astrid that did as she was told: the girl that everyone could depend on. Her word was her bond and she did not give in to unrealistic fantasies.

"Whatever this is, Astrid, I'm not leaving it here."

A shrinking, but audacious part of her was glad he was so determined. That whisper of temptation wanted her to stay on Dragon Island and find out just how far they were willing to go, where they would stop, and if they could truly dissolve two years of a sullied relationship.

But she nudged her dragon with her heels, retreating into the night sky and leaving Hiccup where he stood.

----------

Stormfly returned to her stall with very little guidance. She flapped her wings and cocked her head to the side, considering Astrid with curious yellow eyes. Astrid tried not to look at Stormfly. Her dragon did not need more reason to fret over something beyond her capacity to understand.

"Good girl. Thanks for the flight," Astrid cooed, stroking Stormfly's snout before leaving the stables.

If she was lucky, she could make it to her bedroom without any further interactions. She needed to collect her thoughts and sort through all of the indecent rubbish without Stefnir or her parents adding to the pile.

But that would have been too easy; the kind of good fortune of someone actually deserving of it.

Footsteps and the eager jangling of armor captured her attention like a skittish rabbit in a snare trap. She turned around with swelling dread, recognizing that particular melody of rattling metal. She knew well the towering, chiseled frame before her eyes even met his face.

Stefnir hurried toward her, alight at the sight of her. He was impressive in the interplay of bright moonlight and shadow, flashing off his armor and defining his wealth of muscle. She wiped her sweaty palms on her tunic with a wavering smile she hoped was convincing in the darkness.

"You weren't at dinner," he said, quirking an eyebrow. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd gone."

He hugged her and she tensed, fingers curled and rigid above his shoulders. Her hands trembled and she settled for patting his back awkwardly, uncertain what feelings might be betrayed while holding him.

"I was out flying," she replied, wiggling out of his embrace without being too conspicuous. A tender hand on his chest was affectionate enough, but she withdrew it almost instantly. Her expression was placid though her insides squirmed.

"Where to?" he asked, rubbing her arms like he always did-which suddenly felt like a foreign and unwelcome contact. She wished he did not want to feel her skin. His hands were too large and assertive in a way she previously had not noticed.

"Just...around. I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." She was trying not to sound too perturbed.

His touch repulsed her more than it should. For the first time, she had another caress to compare it with.

"You should tell me before you just up and leave like that," Stefnir told her with a small, exasperated smile much too similar to a parent's mild criticism.

"I didn't realize I needed an escort."

She was a dragon rider, damn it. She'd been pioneering dangerous stunts on her Nadder before Stefnir had even named his Monstrous Nightmare.

"As your future husband, don't you think I deserve to know these things?" He tugged at the end of her braid, childishly emphatic, as if she could not understand his meaning otherwise.

"Maybe if you believe I'm doing something duplicitous?"

Stefnir chuckled, gripping her waist and pulling her flush against him. She bristled everywhere their bodies met as he leaned in.

"I know you better than that," he whispered.

He kissed her and she screwed her eyes shut, lips tightly pursed beneath his. Her mouth felt besieged, tender and abused from earlier. She wanted to shove him away, no longer accepting those thicker, rougher lips.

His hand snaked beneath her braid to the nape of her neck, holding her where she stood, frozen in place by her family's inescapable commitment to his.

Sacrificing her own desires for reputation and honor was the Hofferson way.

As Stefnir held her, a dragon flew overhead, camouflaged against the black of night like only one species she knew of. And it was all she could do to keep from screaming.

#hiccstrid fic #hicctsird #affairs au #because I couldn't leave y'all on chapter 4's cliffhanger

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dfroza · 4 months

Text

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

for june 4 of 2024 with Proverbs 4 and Psalm 4, accompanied by Psalm 78 for the 78th day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 6 for day 156 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 4]

Gather, children, to hear your father’s instruction.

Pay close attention so you will understand,

For I am passing down to you important precepts.

Do not abandon these valuable life lessons.

Back when I was young—the very image of my father,

and yet from my mother’s view, still her only boy—

My father, with his years of experience, became my teacher.

Father: Son, grab on to every word I say to you—hold them close—

stay true to my instructions as you live, and they will serve you well.

Whatever it takes to gain Wisdom, do it.

To gain understanding, do it! Never forget this!

Never stray from what I am telling you.

If you don’t forsake Lady Wisdom, she will protect you.

Love her, and she will faithfully take care of you.

Gaining sound judgment is key, so first things first: go after Lady Wisdom!

Now, whatever else you do, follow through to understanding.

Cherish her, and she will help you rise above the confusion of life—

your possibilities will open up before you—

embrace her, and she will raise you to a place of honor in return.

She will provide the finishing touch to your character—grace;

she will give you an elegant confidence.

Hear my words, my son, and take them in;

let them soak in so that you will live a long, full life.

I have pointed you in the way of wisdom;

I have steered you down the path to integrity.

So get going. And as you go, know this: with integrity you will overcome all obstacles;

even if you run, you will not stumble.

Tighten your grip around wise advice; don’t let it slip away.

Protect Wisdom, for without her, life isn’t worth living.

Do not start down the road of the wicked—

the first step is easy, but it leads to heartache—

do not go along the way of evildoers.

Stay away from it; don’t even go past it—

and if you find yourself anywhere near it,

turn your back and run as far as you can in the opposite direction.

For evildoers are so twisted they cannot sleep unless they have caused harm;

they’ll lie awake all night until they figure out a way to cause someone to stumble.

For they feed on evil the way most eat bread;

they drink violence the way most guzzle wine.

Yet the way of those who do right is like the early morning sun

that shines brighter and brighter until noon.

Evildoers travel a dark road because they love to hide their deeds in darkness;

they can’t see the perils ahead that cause them to stumble.

My son, pay attention to all the words I am telling you.

Lean in closer so you may hear all I say.

Keep them before you; meditate on them;

set them safely in your heart.

For those who discover them, they are life.

They bring wholeness and healing to their bodies.

Above all else, watch over your heart; diligently guard it

because from a sincere and pure heart come the good and noble things of life.

Do away with any talk that twists and distorts the truth;

have nothing to do with any verbal trickery.

Keep your head up, your eyes straight ahead,

and your focus fixed on what is in front of you.

Take care you don’t stray from the straight path, the way of truth,

and you will safely reach the end of your road.

Do not veer off course to the right or the left;

step away from evil, and leave it behind.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 4 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

•

[Psalm 4]

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

Answer my prayers, O True God, the righteous, who makes me right.

I was hopelessly surrounded, and You rescued me.

Once again hear me; hide me in Your favor;

bring victory in defeat and hope in hopelessness.

How long will you sons of Adam steal my dignity, reduce my glory to shame?

Why pine for the fruitless and dream a delusion?

[pause]

Understand this: The Eternal One treats as special those like Him.

The Eternal will answer my prayers and save me.

Think long; think hard. When you are angry, don’t let it carry you into sin.

When night comes, in calm be silent.

[pause]

From this day forward, offer to God the right sacrifice from a heart made right by God.

Entrust yourself to the Eternal.

Crowds of disheartened people ask, “Who can show us what is good?”

Let Your brilliant face shine upon us, O Eternal One, that we may know the undeniable answer.

You have filled me with joy, and happiness has risen in my heart, great delight and unrivaled joy,

even more than when bread abounds and wine flows freely.

Tonight I will sleep securely on a bed of peace

because I trust You, You alone, O Eternal One, will keep me safe.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 4 (The Voice)

[Psalm 78]

A contemplative song of Asaph.

O my people, listen to me!

Hear my instruction; soak up every word of what I am about to tell you.

I will open my mouth in parables;

I will speak of ancient mysteries—

Things that we have heard about, things that we have known,

things which our ancestors declared to us again and again.

We will not keep these things secret from their children;

rather, we will tell the coming generation

All about the praise that is due to the Eternal One.

We will tell them all about His strength, power, and wonders.

He gave His holy law to Jacob,

His teaching to the people of Israel,

Which He instructed our fathers

to pass down to their children

So that the coming generation would know them by heart,

even the children who are not yet born,

So that they might one day stand up and teach them to their children,

tell them to put their confidence and hope in God,

And never forget the wondrous things He has done.

They should obey His commandments always

And avoid following in the footsteps of their parents,

a hard-headed and rebellious generation—

A generation of uncultivated hearts,

whose spirits were unfaithful to God.

The sons of Ephraim were master archers, armed with all the necessary equipment,

yet when the battle hour arrived, they ran away.

They were not loyal to their covenant with God;

they turned away and refused to walk in it;

They did not remember all the wondrous things He had done,

even the great miracles He had revealed to them.

He did miraculous things in the presence of their ancestors

as they made their way out of Egypt, through the fields of Zoan.

He split the sea and made them pass through it;

He made the waters to rise, forming a wall of water.

Every day He led them with a cloud;

every night, with a fiery light.

He cracked open rocks in the wilderness

and provided them with all the water they needed, as plentiful as the depths of the ocean.

He caused streams to burst forth from the rock,

waters to rush in like a river.

Even after witnessing all of these miracles, they still chose to sin against God,

to act against the will of the Most High in the desert!

They tested God in their stubborn hearts

by demanding whatever food they happened to be craving.

Then they challenged God:

“Can God fill a table with food in the middle of the desert?

He split open the rock, and water gushed out;

streams and rivers were overflowing!

But can He also provide us with bread?

Can He supply meat to His sons and daughters?”

When the Eternal heard these words, He was furious;

His fiery anger erupted against Jacob;

His wrath grew against Israel.

This all happened because they did not trust God;

they did not have faith in His power to save them.

Nevertheless, He gave instructions to the clouds in the sky

and swung open heaven’s doors;

He showered them with manna to soothe their hungry bellies

and provided them with the bread of heaven.

(In that day mortals ate the bread of heavenly messengers.)

God provided them with plenty of food.

He stirred up the east wind and blew it through the sky.

With His might, He whipped the south wind into a storm;

Like dust from the sky, He caused meat to fall on them.

Birds, like sand on the seashore, fell to the earth.

They landed all about the camp,

all around their tents.

God’s people feasted on the food-blessings, and their stomachs were filled;

He gave them exactly what they desired.

But before their bellies were soothed,

while their mouths were still full of food,

God’s wrath came at them like a tidal wave

and swallowed some of the bravest, strongest among them

and quieted the youth of Israel.

Even after all this, they continued to sin

and still did not trust in Him

or in the incredible things He did.

So He abruptly ended their time; they vanished like a breath;

He ended their years suddenly, with terror.

After He took some of their lives,

those left turned back and sought God wholeheartedly.

After all they had endured, they remembered that God, the Most High,

was their Rock, their Redeemer,

But even then they tried to deceive Him with their words

and fool Him with a web of lies.

They were not consistently faithful to Him,

and they were untrue to their covenant with Him.

Yet by His great compassion,

He forgave them

and decided not to put an end to them.

Most of the time, He held back His anger

and did not unleash His wrath against them.

He was mindful that they were human, frail and fleeting,

like a wind that touches one’s skin for a moment, then vanishes.

Oh, how often they disobeyed Him in the wilderness

and frustrated Him during their time in the desert!

Over and over again, they tested God’s patience

and caused great pain for Israel’s Holy One.

They failed to be mindful of His great strength.

They forgot all about the day He saved them from the enemy,

When He displayed all sorts of signs and wonders in Egypt,

and all the amazing things He did in the region of Zoan

When He transformed their rivers into blood

so that they could not drink from their streams.

He sent armies of flies to bite and torment them

and hordes of frogs to ruin and devastate them;

He handed over all of their crops to grasshoppers

and the fruit of all their labor to locusts;

He sent violent hailstorms, which smashed all their vines,

and ruined their sycamore-fig trees with biting frost.

He handed over all of their cattle to the hailstorms as well

and struck all their herds with lightning.

He poured His burning wrath upon them—

anger, resentment, and trouble—

sending a company of heavenly warriors to destroy them.

He carved out a road for His wrath;

He did not spare any from the sting of death

but handed them over to the fangs of the plague.

He killed all the firstborn of Egypt,

the first products of their manhood in the tents of Ham, the Egyptians’ ancestor.

But then He guided His people like sheep to safety

and led them like a flock into the desert to freedom;

He took them on a safe route so that they would not be afraid,

and He allowed the hungry sea to swallow all of their enemies.

He led them to His sacred land—

to this holy hill, which He had won by the power of His right hand.

He forced out the other nations which were living there before them,

and He redistributed the lands as an inheritance to His people;

He settled the tribes and families of Israel peaceably in their tents.

Even after all this, they disobeyed the Most High God

and tested His patience

and did not live by His commands.

Rather, they regressed to their fathers’ ways and lived faithlessly—disloyal traitors!

They were as undependable and untrustworthy as a defective bow,

For they triggered His wrath by setting up high places,

altars to strange gods in His land;

they aroused His jealousy by bowing down to idols in the shadow of His presence.

God boiled with wrath when He witnessed what they were doing;

He totally rejected Israel.

He deserted His own sanctuary at Shiloh,

the tent where He had lived in the midst of His people.

He handed His strength over to captivity;

He put His splendor under the enemy’s control.

He handed His people over to the sword,

and He was filled with anger toward His chosen ones;

He was burning with wrath!

A great fire consumed all the young men,

and the virgin girls were without the joy of their wedding songs.

Priests met their doom by the blade of a sword,

and widows had no tears to cry;

they could not weep.

Then the Lord awoke like a man who has been asleep,

like a warrior who has been overcome with wine.

He forced all His enemies back;

He defeated them, weighing them down with everlasting disgrace.

He even rejected the tent of Joseph as His home

and showed no favor toward the tribe of Ephraim.

Instead, He favored the tribe of Judah—

Mount Zion, the place He adored.

He built His sanctuary like the mountain heights;

like the earth, He created it to last forever.

He chose His servant David,

and called Him out of the sheep pastures.

From caring for the ewes, who gently nurse their young,

He called him to shepherd His people Jacob

and to look after Israel, His inheritance.

David shepherded them with the honor and integrity of his heart;

he led them in wisdom with strong and skillful hands.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 78 (The Voice)

[Psalm 6]

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

O Eternal One, don’t punish me in Your anger

or harshly correct me.

Show me grace, Eternal God. I am completely undone.

Bring me back together, Eternal One. Mend my shattered bones.

My soul is drowning in darkness.

How long can You, the Eternal, let things go on like this?

Come back, Eternal One, and lead me to Your saving light.

Rescue me because I know You are truly compassionate.

I’m alive for a reason—I can’t worship You if I’m dead.

If I’m six feet under, how can I thank You?

I’m exhausted. I cannot even speak, my voice fading as sighs.

Every day ends in the same place—lying in bed, covered in tears,

my pillow wet with sorrow.

My eyes burn, devoured with grief;

they grow weak as I constantly watch for my enemies.

All who are evil, stay away from me

because the Eternal hears my voice, listens as I cry.

The Eternal God hears my simple prayers;

He receives my request.

All who seek to destroy me will be humiliated;

they will turn away and suddenly crumble in shame.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Voice)

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