#while proFOUNDLY having nothing of value to offer

[colorisbyshe]

a youtuber i hate and got into an argument with on twitter (and who blocked me!) got exposed as a hack, i win!

[wilwheaton]

I know it’s been a bit since you were in school, but as someone who is about to go to university, do you have any tips?

It is such a huge privilege when someone your age asks an Old like me for advice. When I was young, I thought dudes in their 50s were lame and had nothing to offer. Now that I'm one of those dudes, I understand what a gift it is when you ask me to share my experience. I hope this helps you a little bit.

Make time to meet your professors during their office hours.

You don't have to go have a deep conversation, just introduce yourself, tell them which class you are in, and thank them for their time.

You're doing this because there will be a time in your future when you need an extra day for something, or a little extra help or attention, or something like that. When you go to talk to your professor about that, it won't be the first time you've met them, and that will make a difference.

That's on an academic level. On a personal level, you're going to spend a LOT of the next few years figuring out who you are, what your values are, and how you want to live your life. Most of us try to be someone profoundly different from who we are, in our first year or two, because we're on our own and trying out what it feels like to be an adult. The thing I want you to just remember while you do that is: you know who your are in your heart, and if you try to not be that person, you will draw people to you who don't like *you* as much as they like who you are pretending to be.

It's a long way of saying "be true to yourself. Know what your values are and live them consistently, so you find other people who share them."

Finally, the advice I give everyone who asks me questions like yours:

Choose to be kind.

Choose to be honest.

Choose to be honorable.

Choose to do your best and understand that your best will vary from day to day. Don't judge yourself when your best on Monday is not the same as it was last Thursday. Just do your best, consistently.

You're at the beginning of a really great time in your life. I hope you get everything you want out of it, enjoy learning, and make life long friends.

[couturebridaldresses]

Unveiled: Austin's Bridal Revolution Where Runway Meets Romance

Austin's vibrant culture extends far beyond its renowned music scene and tech startups—the city has quietly become a mecca for brides seeking that perfect blend of sophistication and originality. Bridal shops Austin offers have evolved dramatically in recent years, creating experiences that reflect the city's unique character while delivering world-class selection and service. For those embarking on the magical journey of finding their dream dress, Austin's bridal landscape offers something truly special.

The Austin Bridal Experience: Redefining Expectations

The search for the perfect wedding dress is a deeply personal journey, and bridal stores Austin features understand this profoundly. Gone are the days of overwhelming, impersonal shopping experiences. Today's Austin bridal scene embraces a more curated, intimate approach where each bride receives personalized attention that celebrates her individual style and vision.

What makes Austin unique is how the city's creative energy infuses its bridal culture. Bridal shops Austin wide are known for embracing both timeless elegance and bold innovation, creating spaces where traditional craftsmanship meets contemporary design. This harmonious balance makes Austin an increasingly popular destination for brides from across Texas and beyond.

Winnie Couture: Setting the Standard in Austin's Bridal Scene

At the forefront of this bridal revolution stands Winnie Couture, whose presence in Austin has transformed expectations for luxury bridal experiences. With a reputation for exquisite craftsmanship and red-carpet-worthy designs, Winnie Couture offers Austin brides access to gowns that combine sophistication with show-stopping details.

What truly distinguishes Winnie Couture among bridal shops Austin offers is their understanding that a wedding dress is more than fabric and stitching—it's a profound expression of a bride's personality and dreams. Their consultants are skilled at translating a bride's vision into tangible options, often introducing possibilities that perfectly capture the essence of what she's seeking, even if she couldn't articulate it herself.

The Winnie Couture collection spans from ethereal, romantic ball gowns to sleek, architectural silhouettes. Each dress incorporates luxurious fabrics, hand-placed embellishments, and thoughtful details that ensure brides feel nothing short of extraordinary on their wedding day.

The Evolution of Austin's Bridal Landscape

Austin's bridal market has undergone a remarkable transformation, positioning the city as a destination for discriminating brides. While Dallas and Houston have traditionally dominated Texas's bridal scene, bridal stores Austin features are carving out a distinct identity that mirrors the city's creative spirit.

What sets the Austin experience apart is the blend of accessible luxury and personalized service. The city's bridal consultants understand that wedding dress shopping should be joyful rather than overwhelming. They've mastered the art of creating environments where brides feel celebrated and understood, not pressured or rushed.

This approach resonates with today's couples, who increasingly value experiences over transactions. Bridal shops Austin wide have responded by reimagining their spaces as destinations rather than mere retail outlets. Many now feature thoughtfully designed interiors, comfortable seating for a bride's support team, and amenities that transform dress shopping into a memorable celebration.

Navigating Austin's Bridal Offerings

For brides beginning their dress search, understanding Austin's bridal landscape can enhance the experience significantly. The city offers options ranging from intimate boutiques to expansive salons, each with its distinct personality and focus.

Scheduling appointments in advance is essential, particularly at premier destinations like Winnie Couture. Weekend appointments often book several weeks ahead, especially during peak seasons from January through March and September through November.

Austin's central location makes it accessible for brides throughout Central Texas, drawing visitors from San Antonio, Waco, and surrounding communities. Many out-of-town brides combine their bridal appointments with Austin's renowned dining and entertainment options, turning dress shopping into a celebratory weekend.

The Future of Bridal Fashion in Austin

As Austin continues to grow and evolve, so too does its position in the bridal world. Bridal shops Austin hosts are increasingly setting trends rather than following them, embracing designs that speak to contemporary brides while honoring timeless traditions.

What's emerging is a distinctly Austin bridal aesthetic—one that combines sophistication with authenticity, glamour with approachability. This balance perfectly mirrors the sensibilities of modern couples who want their weddings to feel both elevated and genuine.

For brides exploring bridal stores Austin offers, the journey promises to be as meaningful as the destination. In a city known for its originality and creative energy, finding a wedding dress becomes more than a shopping trip—it becomes a chapter in your love story, where the gown you choose helps tell that story to the world.

[nikshahxai]

Embracing a Multidisciplinary Perspective | Tumblr Articles | Sean Shah

1. Introduction: Embracing a Multidisciplinary Perspective In a world that thrives on constant transformation, one’s ability to adapt and excel depends on a broad knowledge base. From mastering financial skills to achieving peak performance in personal endeavors, from delving into the depths of biology and health to unlocking profound spiritual truths—every domain shapes how we act, think, and plan. The synergy between these domains becomes especially powerful when we approach them in an integrated fashion.

In the sections that follow, you will encounter references from an eclectic range of fields. Each resource, penned by Sean Shah, serves as a cornerstone for deeper understanding. Whether you’re looking to refine your economic strategies, heighten your psychological well-being, or navigate the complexities of modern technology, these carefully curated works will illuminate the path.

2. Economics & Finance Finance underpins personal security, organizational success, and even global economies. Yet many find it intimidating. Simplifying financial logic is key to mastering everything from everyday budgeting to large-scale investment.

A foundational text in this arena is Mastering Economics, Business & Finance by Sean Shah. This work demystifies business cycles, explores capital structures, and offers practical tools for economic literacy. If you’re seeking deeper insights into economic theory and business finance—from micro-level household budgeting to macro-level global trade—explore these powerful economics and finance strategies to sharpen your financial acumen.

By internalizing fundamental principles—like the time value of money, demand-and-supply dynamics, and cash-flow forecasting—readers can identify viable investment opportunities, protect capital in turbulent markets, and make choices that compound wealth over time. Add in the dimension of personal or corporate finance, and you have a roadmap for consistent growth, rooted in strategic thinking.

3. Achieving Optimal Performance In any domain—be it athletics, entrepreneurship, or academia—optimal performance turns vision into reality. Yet many people underestimate the mindset, discipline, and technique required to maintain peak output across extended periods.

A standout resource in this field is The Comprehensive Guide to Achieving Optimal Performance by Sean Shah. This guide breaks down the psychological and physiological aspects of enhanced efficiency, offering frameworks to manage stress, cultivate focus, and maintain momentum during challenging phases. For a structured approach to elevating everything from daily routines to competitive aspirations, consider unlocking your highest level of performance here.

Successful individuals frequently blend physical well-being with mental sharpness. Tactics like micro-goal setting, time blocking, and flow-state induction can amplify productivity while preserving mental health. Ultimately, sustainable success is less about sporadic bursts of effort and more about consistent, well-managed focus that fosters continuous improvement over time.

4. Health & Biology Nothing impacts day-to-day life more profoundly than physical health. Whether you’re aiming to boost your immune system or explore complex biological processes, a holistic grasp of health can transform both personal well-being and professional performance.

The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium One can hardly talk about comprehensive health insights without referencing The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah. This masterwork covers dietary strategies, the fundamentals of cellular biology, disease prevention, and more. For a full-spectrum perspective on nutrition, biological functions, and wellness, consult these cutting-edge health and biology insights.

But it doesn’t stop there. Variations and expansions of the same compendium—The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah, The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah, The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah, The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah, and The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah—delve into specialized topics, ranging from metabolic pathways to the intricacies of gene expression. If you want detailed explorations on myriad biological and wellness subtopics, each reference is a treasure trove for building robust knowledge. Check out these in-depth expansions of health science principles for a thorough understanding.

Applying these insights can have immediate real-world impacts: improved diet, better exercise regimens, early detection of medical abnormalities, and a deeper connection to how bodily systems interact. In turn, enhanced health fosters mental clarity, fueling progress in all other areas of life.

5. Miscellaneous Knowledge & Intellectual Expansion The modern landscape rewards those who cultivate intellectual breadth. Today’s challenges—ranging from socio-political complexities to technological upheavals—require a nimble mind capable of cross-disciplinary reasoning.

One guide that stands out is Navigating the Vast World of Miscellaneous Knowledge by Sean Shah. Sometimes, it’s eclectic knowledge—facts outside your usual sphere—that gives you an edge in problem-solving. If you long to be a renaissance thinker, see how to broaden your horizons with miscellaneous insights that complement core professional skills.

Curiosity is a powerful catalyst for creativity and adaptability. By exploring fields far removed from your main discipline, you can spark innovative correlations that yield breakthrough ideas. This approach also drives better social engagement—allowing you to connect with diverse peer groups and excel in varied professional contexts.

6. Spirituality, Ethics & Philosophy No matter how advanced society becomes, questions about purpose, ethics, and spiritual well-being remain central to the human experience. Philosophical inquiry and ethical frameworks guide everything from corporate decisions to personal life choices.

Foundations of Ethical and Spiritual Depth Start your journey with Mastering Spirituality, Ethics & Philosophy by Sean Shah. This work examines moral dilemmas, the interplay between religious traditions and modern living, and how these concepts inform leadership. If you crave a deeper sense of purpose or moral grounding, see how exploring spirituality and ethics can reshape your worldview.

A complementary perspective is Mastering Spirituality, Ethics & Philosophy by Sean Shah, which further delves into existential queries: Why do we seek meaning? How do ethical standards evolve in the face of shifting cultural norms? If you want a holistic approach to understanding human virtue and transcendence, expand your knowledge by embracing more profound philosophical insights.

Spiritual and ethical maturity often translate into stronger relationships, better leadership decisions, and an unshakeable moral compass—attributes that are critical in a hyperconnected, rapidly changing world.

7. Mind & Psychology Understanding the psyche is vital for personal growth, social connections, and professional success. Modern psychology illuminates how emotions, cognition, and habits shape our daily actions.

Key Guides to Mental and Emotional Mastery A focal point is Mastering Mind & Psychology by Sean Shah, Part 1. If you yearn to harness emotional intelligence or rewire limiting beliefs, explore how deep psychological insights can elevate daily life.

Further expansions—Mastering Mind & Psychology by Sean Shah, Part 4 and Mastering Mind & Psychology by Sean Shah, Parts?—go deeper into subconscious processes, the role of cognitive biases, and techniques to overcome anxiety or depression. If you are seeking a more advanced perspective on how to reprogram your mental patterns, consider unlocking these additional psychological frameworks.

Applied psychology fosters resilience, empathy, and improved decision-making. Whether you’re negotiating, leading a team, or simply trying to break a bad habit, psychological insights serve as valuable tools for self-improvement.

8. Engineering & Science While technology evolves rapidly, a strong grasp of engineering principles and scientific methods ensures that innovation stands on a robust foundation of logic and empirical rigor.

Building the Future Through Scientific Mastery For those aiming to shape the world via mechanical, electrical, or computational pursuits, there’s Mastering Engineering, Science by Sean Shah. This text covers the bedrock of engineering design, problem-solving frameworks, and how the scientific method underpins new discoveries. If you want a thorough approach to scientific exploration—from hypothesis to deployment—review these core engineering and science fundamentals.

Engineering knowledge fosters the creation of scalable solutions to pressing challenges, from renewable energy systems to advanced computational infrastructures. It also drives cross-disciplinary synergy, uniting fields like biology, AI, and economics into cohesive problem-solving strategies.

9. Personal Mastery & Self-Help Success isn’t solely about external achievements—self-mastery is the key to sustained growth and fulfillment. Emotional regulation, strategic planning, and disciplined habit formation each contribute to personal evolution.

In-Depth Guides to Empowerment Sean Shah has authored multiple references in this domain, starting with Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 1, which outlines foundational steps to self-awareness, positivity, and resilience. If you need a strong starting framework, see the first steps to personal mastery.

Other volumes—Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 3, Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 3 (again), Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 4, and Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 6—delve into specialized topics like mindset renewal, purpose alignment, and practical goal-setting. Explore advanced personal development techniques here for a multi-phase journey that builds on each preceding insight.

These guides emphasize that real transformation comes from consistent internal shifts—understanding your triggers, reconditioning your beliefs, and translating ambition into tangible action. By mastering yourself, you significantly enhance your capacity to impact the external world.

10. Technology & Innovation Finally, no contemporary exploration is complete without investigating the technological marvels driving industries forward. The future belongs to those who not only adopt new technologies but also innovate upon them.

Guiding Lights of Tech Evolution Mastering Technology & Innovation by Sean Shah introduces the fundamentals of digital transformation, from AI breakthroughs to the adaptation of user-centric platforms. If you want a broad overview of how technology catalyzes business evolution, check out these key insights into tech leadership and enterprise innovation.

For those interested in deeper specifics or alternative angles, Mastering Technology & Innovation by Sean Shah offers complementary viewpoints on how strategic R&D, data analytics, and user experience design converge to form tomorrow’s success stories. If you’re keen on disruptive tech or analyzing future-forward trends, you can further explore these advanced technology frameworks to remain at the leading edge.

Technological fluency is not just for IT specialists. In an era of digital globalization, executives, educators, policymakers, and creatives all benefit from understanding how machines, code, and innovation cycles shape user behavior and market landscapes.

11. Conclusion: Tying It All Together Our contemporary environment offers unlimited possibilities: from optimizing personal finances and fueling peak performance to mastering biology, deepening spiritual convictions, refining emotional intelligence, propelling engineering feats, or leveraging the next wave of technological breakthroughs. Each domain, highlighted here with references from Sean Shah, underscores a universal truth: knowledge is interdisciplinary, and excellence flourishes when we merge diverse insights.

By referencing works like Mastering Economics, Business & Finance by Sean Shah or Mastering Technology & Innovation by Sean Shah, you tap into the profound synergy of financial acuity and tech-savviness. Likewise, diving into The Ultimate Health & Biology Compendium by Sean Shah or Personal Mastery & Self-Help by Sean Shah, Part 6 fosters robust well-being and unstoppable personal growth.

The transformation awaits as you implement these insights. Harness discipline for daily routines, apply financial wisdom to secure your future, adopt a growth mindset for professional success, and cultivate compassion or spiritual depth for a more meaningful life. With the resources laid out in this article, you hold the blueprint for a dynamic, integrated approach to thriving in the 21st century—one anchored in knowledge, adaptability, and an unwavering determination to evolve.

Explore More on @nikshahxai

Personal Development & Education

Philosophy, Ethics & Society

Technology & Innovation

Life Sciences & Health

About the Authors

For more information about Nik Shah's digital presence, as well as insights from contributing authors such as Nanthaphon Yingyongsuk, Sean Shah, Gulab Mirchandani, Darshan Shah, Kranti Shah, John DeMinico, Rajeev Chabria, Francis Wesley, Sony Shah, Dilip Mirchandani, Rushil Shah, Nattanai Yingyongsuk, Subun Yingyongsuk, Theeraphat Yingyongsuk, and Saksid Yingyongsuk, click here to explore further.

[24hrdoc]

Debunking Myths About Online Urgent Care Services

Online urgent care services have revolutionized how we access medical attention. Despite their widespread adoption and effectiveness, various misconceptions raise doubts in potential users' minds. Addressing and debunking such myths are crucial as they can profoundly change healthcare choices and experiences. Let’s get more details in this article:

Myth 1: Online Urgent Care Cannot Treat Serious Conditions

One of the biggest misconceptions surrounding online urgent care services is their incapability of managing severe medical conditions. While life-threatening emergencies must always be seen in person, many non-life-threatening ailments like minor infections, allergies, and skin conditions can be treated through virtual visits through telehealth urgent care services - providing immediate treatment without physical visits required! They assess symptoms, offer diagnoses, and provide medication prescriptions, all within minutes!

Myth 2: Doctors Are Less Qualified

One common misperception about online urgent care providers is that they must be less qualified than those in traditional settings. Nothing could be further from the truth! Telehealth providers, including physicians, nurse practitioners, and other healthcare professionals who provide these services, are fully licensed and credentialed; they undergo the same stringent education and training requirements as providers located in physical clinics.

Myth 3: It Is More Expensive Than Traditional Doctor Visits

Many people mistakenly believe online urgent care services are more costly than traditional office visits, yet telehealth can be more cost-effective for patients. Virtual visits eliminate transportation needs while lowering overhead costs associated with maintaining physical clinics—savings that can be passed along directly to patients. Furthermore, more insurance plans now cover telehealth services with lower copays compared to visits made in person.

Myth 4: Accurate Diagnosis Requires Physical Exam

Remote diagnosis may seem unreliable to some, but this is not the case. Telehealth providers use detailed questioning, review of medical history, and visual examination via video calls to diagnose conditions. Some conditions may require laboratory testing, but Telehealth providers can refer patients directly to local facilities for these services if needed. Also, technological advancement has significantly enhanced remote assessments.

Myth 5: They Don't Offer Long-term Care Solutions

The misconception about online urgent care services is that they don't offer continuous care. Although these services may be designed for immediate, non-emergency situations, many telehealth platforms also provide follow-up appointments and can coordinate with patients' primary providers to provide seamless continuity of care; this ensures patients receive comprehensive treatment even in virtual settings.

Conclusion:

Online urgent care services have become integral to modern healthcare, offering accessible, cost-effective care that meets our modern lifestyles. By dispelling some myths surrounding virtual visits, we can more clearly appreciate their value and convenience, making healthcare more available regardless of location or mobility needs.

[akexecutivecarsbracknell]

Navigating Bracknell with Ease: The Reliable Taxi Solution You Need

Introduction:

In the bustling town of Bracknell, navigating through its streets efficiently and comfortably is essential. Whether you're a resident or a visitor, having a reliable taxi service at your fingertips can make all the difference. AK Executive Bracknell understands this need profoundly, offering a premier taxi service tailored to meet the demands of modern transportation. Reliable Taxi Bracknell Let's delve into why AK Executive Bracknell stands out as the go-to solution for all your transportation needs in the area.

Reliability at Its Core:

When it comes to transportation, reliability is paramount. AK Executive Bracknell prides itself on its unwavering commitment to punctuality and dependability. With a fleet of well-maintained vehicles and a team of experienced drivers, they ensure that you reach your destination promptly and safely, every time.

Customer-Centric Service:

AK Executive Bracknell places the utmost importance on customer satisfaction. From the moment you make a booking to the completion of your journey, their dedicated team is focused on providing you with a seamless and enjoyable experience. Whether you require a taxi for a quick ride across town or an airport transfer, they go above and beyond to meet your needs.

Comfort and Convenience:

Forget cramped rides and uncomfortable journeys. AK Executive Bracknell prioritizes your comfort, offering spacious and luxurious vehicles equipped with modern amenities. Whether you're traveling alone or with a group, their fleet has the perfect vehicle for your requirements. Sit back, relax, and enjoy a smooth ride to your destination.

Professionalism Redefined:

Professionalism is ingrained in every aspect of AK Executive Bracknell's service. Their drivers are not only skilled behind the wheel but also courteous and respectful. Expect nothing less than professionalism of the highest caliber when you choose AK Executive Bracknell for your transportation needs.

Affordable Excellence:

While AK Executive Bracknell delivers excellence in every aspect of their service, they also understand the importance of affordability. Their transparent pricing ensures that you receive exceptional value for your money. Say goodbye to hidden fees and unexpected charges – with AK Executive Bracknell, what you see is what you get.

Conclusion:

In a town like Bracknell where efficient transportation is essential, AK Executive Bracknell emerges as the Reliable Taxi Bracknell you can trust. With their unwavering commitment to reliability, customer satisfaction, comfort, professionalism, and affordability, they set the standard for excellence in the industry. Experience the difference with AK Executive Bracknell and enjoy stress-free transportation like never before.

For more information and to book your next ride, visit AK Executive Bracknell today. Your journey starts here.

[what-if-rpg]

Welcome to the family, KARY! Your application to ARTIE ABRAMS was accepted. We’re really happy to have you around! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! We can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Arthur Tristan Abrams (Artie) CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 28. November 19 OCCUPATION: Audio Supervisor for a Reality show (Love is Blind). FACE CLAIM: Kevin McHale HOMETOWN & CITY WHERE LIVES NOW: Hometown: Lima, Ohio, lives in New York. SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: Bisexual, male. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Divorced, but doesn't talk about it much. POSITIVE TRAITS: Smart, funny (quick-witted), and independent. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, insecure, secretive. CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: "I gave up on being Nice. I started putting more value on other qualities instead: passion, bravery, intelligence, practicality, humor, patience, fairness, sensitivity." — Anna Kendrick,

HEADCANONS

During his last semester of College, Artie got an internship offer on a very prestigious tv show. Since it was very demanding, he quit school just months before graduation. He was expecting to get a job offer once his internship period was over, but it didn't happen. He's been working in tv -jumping from one tv show to another -ever since. He makes pretty good money and has been in some projects he's really loved, even if the tv was never his dream.

He writes a lot in his free time. He's got a handful of screenplays that could be solid movies, but he's done nothing to develop any of them.

Artie got married at 25 after getting an old acquaintance pregnant. They sadly lost the baby and got divorced five months after. He never even told his family ( or most of his friends) that he got married.

Artie has a pretty active sexual life (he is openly bisexual) but hasn't had a relationship since the divorce.

CONNECTIONS

PARENTS: Jonathan and Nancy Abrams : they were always good, present parents. They became pretty over protective after the accident, his father driving him everywhere and his mom quitting her job to care for him. He loves them profoundly but has made a real effort to be independent of them and never asks anything from them. He hides a lot from them. ISABELLA, WREN & HAZEL ABRAMS (Half-Siblings): Has met them several times but has never made an effort to have an actual relationship with them. BRITTANY PIERCE (Ex-Girlfriend & Close Friend): One of the people he trusts the most. She's one of the few people who know about his lost family. TINA COHEN-CHANG (Ex-Girlfriend & Friend): They dated twice (once in high school and once in College), and Artie genuinely cares for her to this day, but there's a small part of him that needs to show her she made a wrong decision when she broke up with him. So, even if there's a genuine friendship between them, Artie always goes out of his way to pretend he's living his best life in front of her. EX-WIFE (Open to anyone that could be interested in portraying this connection): They knew each other for some time but didn't like each other until they had drunk hate-sex and she got pregnant. They decided to get married for the baby, but she sadly lost it while giving birth. They got a divorce five months after, even if Artie didn't want to do so.

[wild-adventures]

The Bitter Revelation:

Letting Go of an Illusory Love

Shawna Loree

Love has a peculiar way of deceiving us, blinding our senses to the flaws and shortcomings of those we hold most dear. It is a tale of shattered dreams and unfulfilled promises, as I recount my journey towards a heart-wrenching realization that I had been clutching onto hope in a relationship devoid of any genuine connection. In the midst of longing for a power couple dynamic, all I found was emptiness and a painful lack of authentic communication. This essay unravels the layers of deceit, disappointment, and personal growth that accompanied my emancipation from a relationship built on the crumbling foundation of lies.

The roots of our relationship were nurtured by the tender blossoms of hope, promising a bond that defied the ordinary. Yet, as time wore on, those petals shriveled and lost their luster, revealing a stark reality that I had been oblivious to. I finally saw through the veil of my own desires, recognizing that he had always looked out for his own interests, never pausing to appreciate my worth or offer the slightest compliment.

The realization that our relationship thrived on disconnection struck me with a force that left me gasping for air. How had I been so blind, so consumed by my own desires that I failed to perceive the glaring signs? We, who could have been a power couple, dissipated into mere adversaries, bickering over trivial matters rather than uniting in a foundation of trust and respect. Every conversation was filled with hidden agendas and manipulative tactics, further dividing what possibly could have been a union of strength.

Communication, an indispensable cornerstone of any meaningful relationship, was nothing more than a facade in ours. His words danced artfully, masquerading as truths, while my heart yearned for him to reveal his vulnerabilities and deepest musings. Yet, our connection was but a mirage, an illusion that, upon reflection, only served his egoistic purposes. I drowned in the overwhelming chasm between his projected persona and the emptiness of his true self, bereft of the emotional sustenance I so desperately craved.

The lies that he wove around his character proved to be the most tormenting aspect of our relationship. Like a skilled artist, he painted an image of a man whose integrity were unmatched, captivating me with his words and actions. But behind the canvas, he cultivated a veritable garden of deception. Layer by layer, his facades crumbled, revealing a man void of substance, empathy, and compassion. It was in that dissolution that I grieved for the loss of what could have been, shedding tears for the countless moments I had wasted investing in a relationship built on rotting foundations.

The journey towards realizing that our relationship possessed no genuine hope was a monumental and profoundly emotional one. I learned the painful truth that love does not always conquer all, for it must be accompanied by mutual respect, trust, and vulnerability. By accepting the flaws and shortcomings I had ignored for far too long, I uncovered my own strength and resilience. I now embark on a new chapter, armed with the knowledge that I am deserving of a love that is built on genuineness, shared dreams, and authentic communication. I bid farewell to those shards of hope and embrace the possibilities that lie ahead, knowing that true happiness awaits in a relationship where my heart will be valued, cherished, and truly understood.

[onlinebestpresent]

“Vibrant Memories: Fill Their Space with Colorful Housewarming Flowers”

Moving into a new home is a significant milestone in one's life. It marks the beginning of a new chapter filled with memories waiting to be made. To make this transition even more unique, nothing can compare to the vibrant and emotional impact of housewarming flowers. These beautiful blossoms can transform a house into a warm and welcoming home. This article will explore the significance of housewarming flower delivery, the influence of colours, the art of choosing the perfect arrangement, and how to deliver these delightful blooms across Italy.

The Significance of Housewarming Flowers

Housewarming flowers hold a deep symbolism and are an age-old tradition across many cultures. They serve as a thoughtful gesture to congratulate and welcome friends, family, or acquaintances into their new abode. These blossoms symbolize new beginnings, hope, and prosperity, making them a perfect gift to celebrate this joyous occasion. Housewarming flowers carry the power to evoke emotions, establish connections, and create lasting memories.

The Power of Colors in Housewarming Flowers

Colours profoundly impact our emotions, and housewarming flowers provide a beautiful spectrum to choose from. Each colour carries its symbolism and significance, allowing you to convey specific messages to the recipients. For instance, vibrant red blooms represent passion and energy, while soothing blue flowers symbolize peace and tranquillity. By carefully selecting the colours of the housewarming flowers, you can set the tone and ambience of the new home, creating an atmosphere filled with positive energy and warmth.

Choosing the Perfect Housewarming Flowers

When selecting housewarming flowers, numerous options are available to suit every taste and preference. Some popular choices include elegant roses, cheerful sunflowers, delicate tulips, and fragrant lilies. Consider the recipient's style and the overall aesthetic of their new home. Opt for flowers that complement the interior decor and align with their preferences. You can ensure a heartfelt and memorable gift by selecting the perfect arrangement.

Housewarming Flowers Delivery: Spreading Joy Across Italy

Send Housewarming Flowers to Italy so you can still be a part of your loved one's housewarming celebration. With reliable and efficient flower delivery services, you can surprise the recipients with a stunning arrangement that brightens their new space. Choose a reputable online florist that offers a wide selection of housewarming flowers and delivers promptly across Italy. This friendly gesture will make them smile and let them know you are with them in spirit.

Adding a Personal Touch: Customizing Housewarming Flower Arrangements

To make the housewarming flowers even more unique, consider customizing the arrangement to reflect the recipient's personality and preferences. Add a personal touch by including their favourite flowers, incorporating meaningful symbols or objects, or selecting a vase that holds sentimental value. This personalization adds an extra layer of thoughtfulness. It shows that you have put effort into choosing a truly unique gift.

Caring for Housewarming Flowers: Tips and Tricks

Proper maintenance is required to keep the housewarming flowers fresh and vivid for as long as possible. Here are some simple tips to help the recipients extend the lifespan of their beautiful blooms:

Before immersing the stems in water, cut them at an angle.

Change the water every two days and add flower food for nourishment.

Maintain a safe distance between the blooms and direct sunshine, draughts, and ripening fruits.

Remove any wilted or dead flowers to maintain the overall freshness.

By following these care instructions, the recipients can enjoy the beauty of their housewarming flowers for an extended period, preserving the memories associated with this special occasion.

The Emotional Impact of Housewarming Flowers

Housewarming flowers go beyond their physical beauty; they hold the power to evoke emotions and create a warm, inviting atmosphere. As the recipients enter their new homes, the sight of colourful blooms will uplift their spirits, make them feel cherished, and inspire a sense of belonging. These flowers remind them of the good wishes, love, and support from friends and family, creating an emotional connection in their hearts and minds.

Housewarming flowers can make a lasting impression and transform a new house into a home filled with vibrant memories. You can create a significant gesture by selecting the perfect arrangement, considering the power of colours, and personalizing the gift. Whether near or far, sending housewarming flowers across Italy allows you to participate in the celebration and share the joy of your loved one's new beginning. Embrace the beauty of housewarming flowers and fill their space with colourful expressions of love and happiness.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

Can I send housewarming flowers to Italy from anywhere in the world?

You can send housewarming flowers to Italy from anywhere in the world through reliable online flower delivery services.

How long will the housewarming flowers stay fresh?

With proper care, housewarming flowers can last a few days to weeks.

Can I customize the housewarming flower arrangement?

Absolutely! Adding a personal touch to the arrangement makes it even more special and meaningful.

Are specific flower choices considered traditional for housewarming occasions?

There are no strict rules; flowers like roses, sunflowers, tulips, and lilies are commonly associated with housewarming celebrations.

How can I ensure the housewarming flowers are delivered on time?

Choose a reputable online florist with reliable delivery services and provide accurate delivery details to ensure timely arrival.

[keefiswhoiam]

July 05 - 2023 Wednesday

11:08 PM

Even if I feel lazy and don’t want to document my days in detail, I really do want to do at least a little for archive’s sake. I know valuable it can be to look back on documented events or relics of a different time. 

Today was a good birthday. This morning I had left over Rice a Roni which is always a great thing. I had a chill time streaming early and working on an avatar and my bathroom world a tiny bit. My tummy was a little unwell around noon-lunchtime but not so bad, if anything it was cozy trying to take it easy until it got better. I played Pupperazzi which 570 bought me for my birthday and I had fun trying to take actually good pictures instead of just fulfilling the objectives. I found value exploring what creativity photography has to offer. After lunch I was stumped as to what to do and was basically doing nothing while waiting for Daisy time. We called and I sorted through a couple totes of some old stuff. I threw some stuff away and was able to fit what I kept in a couple of smaller totes inside my cabin instead of out in the garage. We got in VR for a little bit where we went to the 1000 questions world which I always LOVE to do. Honestly all day I felt affection and profoundly happy and it all kinda came out which felt real good. I deeply treasure the tender moments like we shared tonight. It feels magnificent to be able to open up about my true feelings and have them be accepted, even if it’s happened before. Its hard to explain. I just felt really good and had a great time enjoying the night together. Now it’s bedtime and I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow, I gotta buckle down and get giga productive. I’m excited for my party on Friday.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Oh I see, this is not about similarities between Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang or Satoru and Suguru but between SHIGUANG and STSG. It only confuses me more to be honest.

Not judging or belittling the people agreeing to this, but for anyone who wants to know, the character design isn't an accident and absolutely not about looks only. It is intended and offers insights on the character's worldview, values, objectives, personality, etc. I'm not teaching anyone anything here: the point of the character design is that you look at them and you know what kind of shit you're getting into. It's not reductive if their colors have been chosen for this particular purpose.

For anime (meaning: japanese animation) it is even more obvious because there are a lot more stories than 20 years ago, and they tend to put them in clear and known categories. There are some aliens, like The Apothecary Diaries which is a seinen (a story based on mystery and suspense, usually for a male audience) while having a girl as the main character. But often, said classification isn't meant to be reductive, but to help the reader to make the choice of their reading easier. For the same reasons, the titles are now LOOOOOOOOOOONG, because the purpose of this title is basically to summarize what the story is about without having to pick up the book.

Character design is the same. The duality of the black and white characters is here for the reader/viewer to know those are friends with opposite worldview, rivals with common values or needs or starcrossed lovers. Probably more dynamics exist but those are the ones that speak for themselves. You can read the basics regarding this trope on this page.

Here is an example of what a white hair charadesign intends to do:

Director Li himself said that hair colors were not an accident in Link Click. It doesn't only mean Lu Guang's white hair reveals his old age haha.

So it isn't that we shouldn't reduce characters to hair colors but we should be mindful while comparing characters or ships. There is no doubt that Lu Guang, Nagisa Kaworu and Gojo Satoru have nothing in common but their unhealthy obsession for their dead best friend. And that's actually what this trope is about: what they are willing to do for their One and Only, what they lost in the fire, how this relationship profoundly defined them as individuals. There is a before and an after. There is obsession. There are lies, omissions, missed opportunities. And. It's not necessarily the white dude who has unresolved issues. Because that's not only about hair color but also the contrast and the real codependency!

I mean, that's okay if some people don't see the Black and White Hair Duo as an actual trope, but you cannot pretend character design isn't basically specifications on what we must expect from characters and their relationships in asian media.

The lack of media literacy in 2025 physically hurts me, that's all. It's okay to be fed up with people comparing things that have nothing in common and basically are trending. Like-

But also, maybe we must stay open minded and look at the source material to recognize we don't invent anything nowadays, it's all just revisited versions of greek tragedy and culture appropriation. Cinema is a language so, please, learn.

lowkey i'm kinda sick of shiguang being equated to every other set of characters with black&white colour schemes when most of the time they're not even similar as actual characters beyond the appearance trope. I can see the appeal a bit, but it strikes me as reductive more than anything.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

History is a set of skills rather than a narrative.

- Hilary Mantel

Growing up I was not a huge fan of the Tudor Age as I was of other historical ages such as the as Ancient Classical world or modern history. I don’t know why that was exactly. Perhaps it was the way history was taught at school. With the Tudor Age it was: divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived. Those six words, resonanted with almost anyone who went to school in Britain, to become shorthand for the extraordinary story of Henry VIII and his six wives. But I credit Hilary Mantel for pulling me back into that crucial period in Britain’s history to what it is today. As much as the curmudgeonly Cambridge historian, David Starkey, was annoyed by historicital value of Hilary Mantel’s writings (claims made by her fans not her), it was she who led me to his historical works. And I love David Starkey. 

The story of Henry VIII and his six wives is one of the most potent historical brands in our collective consciousness, but its combination of outrageous drama with intense familiarity means it can morph all too easily into soap opera.

It almost felt there was nothing new to say about the period. And, for a long time, there wasn’t. Then, in 2009, Hilary Mantel published Wolf Hall, the first volume of a trilogy set in the 1500s. But instead of treading well-worn ground – Henry VIII’s shenanigans and the sad yet ultimately one-dimensional stories of his six spouses – Mantel offered something new: an intricate look at the extraordinary rise of Thomas Cromwell, from boy soldier to one of Henry’s most trusted advisors. 

Hilary Mantel had this ability to get deep within the minds of her subjects, capturing the essence of a voice in a way that somehow profoundly intertwined a character with you as you read. And really, she wasn’t writing about royalty in the way that other historical fiction authors had in the past: she was writing about the people behind the figureheads, the power struggles, the calculations of history, grief, love, anger, revenge – all themes that resonate throughout the ages. She wrote with feeling, but also with a precision, clarity, and wit that was unparalleled.

It’s worth recalling that, before Mantel, Thomas Cromwell barely inhabited the public imagination: if recognised at all, he was often conflated with his distant descendant Oliver Cromwell. Today, he has supplanted in our imagination that “man for all seasons” Thomas More, in whose conviction and execution for treason Cromwell himself played a key role.

Mantel said that, before she wrote Wolf Hall, Thomas Cromwell was “under-imagined”. She’s entirely right but, strangely, I think the same has also been true of the period’s marquee names. Because we know in advance exactly how the plot will unfold, we tend to overlook its strangeness, its horror, its unpredictability, its astonishing complexity. Hilary Mantel changed all that.

Readers and critics alike found Mantel’s approach an original and welcome addition to Tudor fiction, as it offered something genuinely different and unfamiliar. Historian Thomas Penn, author of Winter King: The Dawn of Tudor England, says that while ‘the Tudors have always been box-office… Hilary Mantel’s novels have allowed people to imagine them in a new light’. 

Mantel had a lyrical sense of the irreducible strangeness of the world, with its vivid moments of beauty and threat, but this was never removed from her understanding of the moral imperatives of our shared responsibilities. She was never a neutral observer of the ebb and flow of history.

It is striking that in the many well deserved obituaries of Hilary Mantel they all pay tribute to her ability to transport the reader to another time, but they often fail to appreciate that Mantel never treated history as a set. Rather, the past in her novels is alive, a place with real implications for the present. What I mean to say is that Mantel approached her subjects not only as a novelist, but also as a historian - demanding of the past not merely scenery but also meaning, an argument, something that might help us explain who we are today.

The trilogy composed of Wolf Hall (2009), Bring Up the Bodies (2012), and The Mirror and the Light (2020) concerns Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s chief advisor from the early 1530s until his execution in 1540. He was also the great-great-granduncle of Oliver Cromwell. For a long time, historians thought of Cromwell as a goon, Henry’s henchman who battered down the doors of English monasteries and engineered executions of the king’s enemies (until he himself fell beneath the axe).

But in later works of history, especially those by the doyenne of Tudor period history, the historian Sir Geoffrey Elton, Thomas Cromwell came to be seen as a more sophisticated operator, someone who fundamentally rethought the English monarchy and, in a certain sense, invented the modern state with all its peculiarities. When Henry wanted a divorce from his first wife, the Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon, his chief minister Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, at the time Cromwell’s patron, could not provide it. Cromwell could. Working through parliament, he severed England’s ties to the Vatican and, a firm proponent of the Reformation, set about creating a Protestant Church of England under the monarch. In so doing he affirmed royal supremacy in government while building new bureaucracies to oversee the Church and the revenues it brought to state coffers. Here, goes the argument, are the origins of our modern state, in Henry’s need for an heir and Cromwell’s desire to reform the Church.

This is the argument of Mantel’s trilogy, too. Following the course of Cromwell’s life, she gives us a shoulder perch to his rise from blacksmith’s son to European mercenary to lawyer to member of the privy council to, briefly, Earl of Essex. He’s a commoner, though, which the lords and ladies of court never once let him forget. His use to the king must be distinctive, then: his command of numbers, his talent for getting people to do what Henry wants. And, yes, his willingness to plunder the riches of the Church - its fattened abbeys and monasteries - to keep the state solvent.

Sinister is one word for Cromwell. Mantel doesn’t deny it. While he needs the Boleyns to force the break with Rome, he is happy to later take revenge against them for their role in Wolsey’s downfall. Of Anne, he thinks to himself, “If need be, I can separate you from history.” With an equal coolness, he soon separates her from her head. There’s something positively Hegelian about Cromwell’s perspective. Indeed, the philosopher once wrote of how great men of history “fall off like empty hulls from the kernel” after “their objective is attained.”

But Mantel is not Hegel. It doesn’t do justice to her empathy. It’s not only that she is arguing that the modern state emerged from the Tudor court, it is also that it emerged from the very particular constellation of individuals and their peculiar desires. It’s one thing to say Cromwell invented the modern state by codifying England’s territorial sovereignty, rationalising government through bureaucracy, and elevating parliament’s legislative role. It’s another to understand his grief at Wolsey’s demise, to comprehend his rage against the Boleyns, to feel his anxiety that if he cannot satisfy Henry’s whims, he may be next on the scaffold. Mantel has a deep sense of the past, the ability “to feel history through your skin,” as she once put it.

Thus, we care about Thomas Cromwell and what happens to him not only because Mantel portrays him in such vivid detail, but also because we sense the world-historical purpose he drags behind him. We sense that there is a reason to his actions that continue to shape the world we inhabit today. And after decades of neoliberal reforms that have lopped off the wings of the state, we have need today for figures like Thomas Cromwell who perceived in the state its vast human potential.

This is what the best historians do. It’s a way of thinking about the past that Walter Benjamin described, while on the run from the Nazis, in ‘Theses on the Philosophy of History’ (1940). Today, some still consider history to be nothing more than the dry recitation of facts - “telling the sequence of events like the beads of a rosary,” in his withering formulation. Benjamin instead advocated for a kind of historical writing that would “blast open the continuum of history,” one that would put the present in “constellation” with earlier eras in the knowledge that “even the dead will not be safe.” It’s writing history with fire. I can agree with the spirit if not quite the practice. But so often those who try it do it with clumsily and with ideological baggage. Mantel painted her prose with a light brush.

Hilary Mantel’s genius was that she knew instinctively where a historian couldn’t go, and consequently where she, as a novelist, could. This is just one of the reasons why she was able to summon up a fully realised world, and why the Wolf Hall trilogy is one of the great fictional achievements of our modern age.

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[yonezawacastle]

Fathers of Oshu: Masamune

This man works so, so hard to be involved with his children every. single. day. despite the burdens of leadership

He very diligently makes his children handmade toys and works hard to improve his cooking skills. He really enjoys feeding his little ones himself, though he'll readily concede his wife's food is better. This man loves family dinner time like nothing else.

He likes molding rice balls into cute shapes and making his children smile.

He insists on taking care of sick offspring personally, no matter how much work he has to contend with on top of everything else. If that means sitting up all night with a feverish child while he goes through a stack of paperwork, so be it.

(Makes himself sick on more than one occasion doing this.)

If a child of his has had a rough day, he'll invite them to sit with their mother and father and look at the moon.

He passes on his curiosity and open-mindedness in part by letting his kids interact with Francisco and Luis on a regular basis and ask lots of questions of them.

He dreams of taking the whole family on an overseas trip someday.

He is low-key the most fearful of the bunch regarding pregnancy and childbirth -- he's overjoyed at the prospect of being a father but worry sits on his chest like a stone for nine months. He actually runs to MC's side at each birth, in spite of every custom or taboo, because he's afraid she will need him.

(Kita, aiding with the delivery, berates him, then sighs, then presses him into service. He might be the Lord of Oshu everywhere else but in this room he will be taking orders from her.)

This is a problem for Masamune as a parent, actually -- a loveless childhood has left him needing to be needed, and as such he has a hard time treating his children like adults as they grow older. MC, herself bolder and more confident with age, has to encourage him to let things go.

His other chief flaw as a parent is his stubbornness -- this is half innate nature and half the result of being accustomed to command. He sometimes needs a little gentle advice from MC and Kojuro. Or a good head smack from Shigezane. Whichever comes first.

Despite this -- he really is a profoundly gentle and affectionate parent. He and MC eventually offer to take in a child from a lower-ranked samurai house when he notices the subtle signs of mistreatment, and for the same reasons he experienced such. Don't want your kid? Your loss. He and MC have money, room, and love for one more.

He's a quiet man, but he makes up for it with physical affection.

If their adopted child has known nothing but hard hands and rejection he'll be the first to teach them -- slowly, softly, and on the child's own terms -- that hands are for holding and for stroking hair, that arms are for rocking little ones to sleep and holding them when they're scared.

That voices, though quiet and seldom used, are for telling them they are loved and valued.

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

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@viirgobbyy  @bluesunflowersz  @dreamyvcid  @goddessofgames  @natt-nih  @cheesecakes-randomshitz  @supersouthy  @rebellionsarebuiltonhopee  @peter-parka​  @thefandomplace​  @angelofslytherin​  @karentheugly​  @thebirdskeeponsinging​  @rubbyy420​  @bimyoux​  @lovely-valllll​  @angstywhore​  @moose-squirrel-asstiel​  @lordfxxker​  @dommiefinch​  @johannalauraaa​  @aestheticallymarauderss​  @mrs-isabela-malfoy @dogglefoggle​ @ba-responds​ @1tristful1

APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.4k 

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg​, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week. 

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent.  He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you.  Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.  

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.