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galos-writing · 3 years

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Hey love! can I request the reader tells the Abbe she is pregnant after he succumbed to his desires only once! His reaction and what happens, please? Love u <3

Sure thing, sweetheart! I just finished to write it, and I’m quite proud of it! I hope you like it like I do ^///^’’ Enjoy!

That night, the madhouse was silent. Well, almost.

Unless the screams from some sleepless patient, the only noisy room in that building was upstairs, the Abbé’s room.

The two of you have been secretly hiding feelings for each other for some months. You didn’t want to surrender to the heat that grew inside of you, every time you looked at him. But you were sure that your infatuation was reciprocal. His eyes were sweeter than usual, when he looked at you, and he used to use kind words to you.

His gaze became more curious, inquiring on your body over time. His desire for you was growing up, as he looked for any kind of phisical connection with you.

The sexual tension between the two of you was obvious, but it ended that night.

Your moans filled the room, as he sucked at your pure skin. At first, he gently nibbled on it, but his bites became harder and harder. He was already inside of you, and began to thrust, and your moans became louder. He cupped your mouth, looking at you with a lewd gaze, and he licked his lips.

«B-Be quiet, darling, this is just the beginning-!» he sighed, his face blushing, while he kept thrusting into you. His bed was creaking, the room was cold, the only thing that you two could feel was your trembling voices, the heat of your body as it melted with the other. His hands kept exploring your breasts, belly and thighs, they seductively massaged your soft skin. In your ear, you could hear his shaky breath. His thrusts became rougher, and his sighs became light moans.

«Ah-Confess your sins, my child-» he loudly moaned, caressing your cheek; his hand moved to your neck, tightening it lightly. Those words turned you on more.

«Father...» you muttered, trying not to moan too loud «Forgive me for my sins...I’ve-ah!- I’ve loved you with all my heart...-.» you groaned, letting out every lewd sound from you. You felt your climax to approach as he increased his pace, and sinked your nails in his back, scratching it. He let you hear his voice as he reached the climax, too, and relaxed by your side. Both of you were heavily breathing; you looked at him. You cupped his soft cheek, and analysed every single part of his face. He sweetly looked at you, and kissed your forehead, hugging you. Your satisfied expression vanished, as a dark thought invaded your mind.

«What’s the matter?» he asked, his beautiful face took a worried expression. You looked at him, your e/c eyes were filled in tears.

«Do you think we made a mistake?» you asked, your voice shaking again, and not for the pleasure. He didn’t know how to reply. Tears started to wet your face.

He kissed you; his lips were warm, and soft. You felt your cheeks glow a fiery red, and his too.

«Darling...» he whispered. «Do you love me?». You nodded, without hesitation. He softly giggled, and kissed you again.

«Me too...this wasn’t a mistake. It couldbe for me, because I’m a priest, but not for us.». You smiled.

«Despite that...» he added, his kind expression changed, it was extremely serious. «We won’t tell anyone what just happened, and we won’t repeat it again. Got it?»

You were caught off-guard by his bluntness; so much, that you began to cry. You quickly got dressed again, and ran out, reaching your room.

After that night, the two of you stopped talking. Just like two complete strangers.

Weeks were going by, and you began to feel sick.

Immediately, that one doubt occupied your mind, after you showed your first need to throw up. “Shit” you thought.

“It can’t be, I had just one sexual intercourse with…” Your thought was interrupted. You didn’t want to remember that night, it hurted. But you hve never felt so much pleasure, and those memories were not totally negative. Sometimes, when you were alone in your room, you liked to touch yourself thinking of that night.

Other weeks were going by, and your belly grew a bit. It was official.

You were pregnant.

You were quite happy for the pregnancy, but your concern focused on the judgement of other people in Charenton, then in town. People were very gossipy.

You wanted so much to go away, you didn’t want to put the Abbé in trouble, so you decided to talk with him.

«Abbé.»

He jmped. He didn’t expect you suddenly calling him like that. He turned around, and obviously faked a smile. He was a master in it.

«Yes, darling?» he replied, kind as usual; you guessed he didn’t want others to notice the difference of behavior he had with you before and after that sexual intercourse.

«I wanted you to know that I’m leaving Charenton.» you announced, your tone was cold like ice. His smile vanished, as he got a lost expression. He immediately composed himself.

«Sure, if you feel uncomfortable by staying here, who am I to tell you to stay, I guess!» he exclaimed. You heard a kind of sarcasm into the last part of the sentence. He was someone, in fact: the director of the madhouse, the one who took your virginity, and the father of the baby.

«Can I just know the reason why? If you have a problem, I can try to fix it, so our establishment can improve!»

«I don’t think you can fix your own “problem”, Abbé. Abortion is illegal.» you just said. His eyes widened.

«You don’t mean.»

«I do mean.»

His green-blue eyes were filled in tears, and he covered his mouth, as some weak sounds escaped his mouth. You couldn’t understand if that was a happy or a desperate reaction. You found a response when he ran to hug you. He tightened you, and you felt a lot of love in his arms. He then kissed you; for once, you felt truly loved in your whole life, like a bride with her husband.

You cried too, as you kissed him back; your heart was hammering in your chest.

«What am I supposed to do?» you asked, drying your tears, and looked at him. He smiled, his gorgeous eyes still weeping.

«We are supposed to go away.» he replied. You were confused.

«W-What?»

He just took off his gown, and looked at you.

«I’m happy that I made this mistake with you, Y/N...if that means I must abandon my role, I will happily quit it.» he said, his eyes were shining in happiness.

«But you lived to be an abbé!» you exclaimed!

«True, but I cannot ignore my responsibilities.» he just said. He remained silent, as he slightly approached you. «And I have to admit it, Y/N, I wanted so badly to put on a family. I needed it, with all my heart!»

Silence.

«Leave this place, and wait for me, in some safe place. I have to attend to some chores, I’m joining you later.»

@darknessisafriend

#imagine #scenario #joaquin phoenix #joaquinphoenix #jp #quills #abbe de coulmier #abbe de coulmier scenario

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 3 years

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Hi! If u wouldn’t mind helping me out, I’m trying to figure out whether I use Se-Ni or Ne-Si, I’m fairly certain I’m ExTP 3w4. Thought I was ESTP but sensors I’ve met irl tend to be a lot more hands on & in the moment than me. I’m not v in tune to the physical world, ex. the light in my room flickers on/off sometimes & I don’t even notice it, my sister had to point it out to me. I’m terrible at sports/dancing bc I have poor spatial/bodily awareness. Other times certain sensory inputs are (1)

completely overwhelming to me & I’m v dramatic abt them, if something smells bad or I’m cold I have to get away asap or I get moody. Sometimes I put effort into my appearance but usually I don’t, I only want to impress specific ppl. I don’t particularly like being in charge but in group projects I’m always thrust into the decision making role bc no one else wants it & I just want to get it over with. When I’m not breathing down ppl’s necks things just go to shit -_- I avoid working harder (2)

than I have to & chose my major (animation) specifically bc it’s fun/doesn’t feel like work & I wouldn’t have to write long essays/do math. Speaking of math I don’t like when things have 1 definitive answer & I don’t like things I can’t make relevant to myself. I preferred English/phil classes bc u can argue p much anything & I’m an expert bullshitter. Psych was fun until we had to learn actual chemicals/brain parts. I like looking at graphs/statistics & I love making lists. Idk what type my (3)

mom is but she’s constantly irritated by me bc I ask her questions she thinks I should just google, but I don’t rly care abt the answer, I just want to discuss. She also hates tht I talk abt what the world “should” be like, she’s just like “go fix it then” & it drives me crazy bc I wish I COULD but it’s NOT that simple. I procrastinate a lot. I wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist but I’ll work at something until it’s more than decent bc I hate letting people down. I hate when ppl watch me (4)

work, I only want them to see the result. I’m v risk averse (except when it came to my career path lol) & do everything I can to ensure I won’t fail. I compare myself to others to see how I measure up. I’m always trying to improve myself; I think that’s why I dwell on my negative qualities so much & why I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. I’d rather impress ppl than serve ppl to gain their approval. I’ve always wanted to be famous & it shocked me when I found out most ppl don’t.(5)

The thought of having “fans” actually makes me uncomfortable but I want to elevate my social status to spite ppl who used to look down on me. I couldn’t stand just being average, I want to be undeniably important and worthy of love. I don’t rly know what I want in life besides this vague need to succeed. I’d be happy doing a variety of things, but I hate menial labor/repetitive tasks. I need alarms for everything bc I zone out so much; literally as I was writing this I was on a walk & had (6)

to sprint back home bc I forgot I had work until my alarm went off. My living space is a mess, I’m fine w it. I hate accountability (can’t drive, too much responsibility/possible crashing). I can form habits if I see a good reason for them, but consistency is hit or miss (sporadically eating healthy vs 100+ day duolingo streak). I have no respect for authority/tradition & only follow the law to avoid punishment. Ppl say I’m creative/funny but I think I mostly just combine/jump off other (7)

ppl’s ideas & improve them. When I write stories ppl complain there are no sensory details/phys descriptions. Ppl tell me I’m eccentric but I’m just doing my own thang idc abt social norms. Love thinking up unrealistic romantic scenarios, romance is my fave thing to talk about. I feel guilty talking abt my obsessions so much but I GOTTA. I don’t trust myself to judge myself accurately bc I’m always trying on new personas, but the things I talked abt here are all persistent traits (8)

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Hi anon,

So I do think you probably are a high Ne user from this, and 3 is possible, but I think you’re an ENFP - some of the traits, especially surrounding leadership, sound like they’re coming from low Te; your attitude towards math (not that FPs can’t be good at math or TPs all like it, but TPs often do want a single answer and like the consistency of math even if they’re not into it as a specialty) and the attitudes towards eccentricity and new personas seems more like Fi than lower Fe. I’m not totally positive, and your focus for this question was Ne vs. Se so you may have left out things that led you to type as a Ti-aux, but at the very least I’d recommend looking at aux Fi.

I would also look into 3w2 or 2w3 instead of 3w4 - the part about being important and worthy of love makes me think both 2 and 3 are involved in the core.

#mbti #enneagram #enneagram 3 #enfp #entp #Anonymous

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eucanyon · 4 years

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·ﾟ☀ i am so hype to be here nobody gets it and even MORE hype to be bringing my baby boy canyon ....... i already can feel that everyone is absolute chef’s kiss and i cant WAIT to plot w u all ! my name is 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 , utilizing she / her pronouns and knowing nothing about percy jackson but trying my absolute best . i do prefer dis.cord for plotting so if you’d like to swap users that’d be grand , without further delay ( i googled if it was ado or adieu but apparently it’s all wrong throw the whole phrase away ) below the cut you can read a bit about canyon !

⟨ MASON GOODING. CIS MAN. HE / HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 is actually a descendent of ZEUS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY - TWO year old PRE-LAW from CHICAGO, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 & 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄 .

— 𝐁𝐈𝐎 .

‘ you gotta work twice as hard to be half as good . you gotta be twice as good to get half the recognition . ’

it’s the earliest phrase he remembers hearing . his grandparents , a duo running the local church services just a block away from their chicago inner city apartment , fill the shoes left by a mother who left her wedlock-born son in the hands of people more capable than she and a father nobody had ever met . his clothes come from the church donation bin and his toys are hand-me-downs from neighborhood kids outgrowing their phases . he pays for football like most of the boys on his team , camped out in front of grocery stores and shopping malls with a bell and a collection bucket with a nervous spiel of “ please help us earn new pads for our football team ” spewing from each child the moment they make eye contact with anyone sympathetic enough to turn their way .

canyon’s held to a higher standard than the neighborhood kids . he comes home before it even starts to turn dark , he has a closet full of perfectly ironed shirts that he tucks neatly into his waistline every sunday morning , he calls anyone that even looks a few years older than him sir or ma’am . he spends afternoons in a rigid schedule : help grandma cook and clean , football practice , homework , and a half hour of television before bed . he gets a choice , if he wants to invite the neighbor’s kids over for that sliver of free time , or keep it to himself . it was a source of embarrassment for him at first , to have a bedtime matching that of his elderly caretakers , but after a certain point , it becomes a source of pride for canyon — he’s lauded by teachers and coaches alike as the best behaved and most respectful ( albeit , also the quietest ) boy of any group he inhabits .

he struggles in school at first , and not simply in the social element . his teachers express concern by his absolute silence , but given that he answers questions and doesn’t cause any issues for them , concerns are brushed off . his handwriting leaves much to be desired and his literacy skills are behind his grade expectations , but he excels when offered oral options for responses and follows logic like a champ . though his grandparents can’t quiet afford a formal tutor , but his teachers offer a bit of informal help in the often time that his grandparents run late to pick him up . they note to his grandmother that canyon is a workhorse , putting in much more work than what is asked for and seeing a steady improvement in his grades due to this . she’ll smile , and canyon will repeat their mantra in his head on the way home .

his mom appears every few months over major holidays , bag of trinkets in tow . canyon quickly learns that ignoring the toys means she’ll talk more to him than about him to his grandparents as if he’s not there , curling up in her lap like a cat vying for her attention . he shoves straight - a report cards and mvp trophies into her hands as long as he can remember , one thanksgiving she comments on his hair getting too long and by christmas he’s gotten it shaved clean . every comment she makes he squeezes for some semblance of recognition , a baby bird screaming out to a blinded parent : ‘ see me , i’m here . see me , if only this once . ’

his father is a forbidden topic in the house and his mother skirts around conversations of him , which bothers canyon , but his community is that of a village - raising mindset . older brothers become mentor figures , uncles become surrogate fathers , grandfathers pass down tokens of wisdom . it seems no household is truly ever without the nurture of a parent figure , and canyon grows up acutely aware of how lucky he has it in his little apartment complex telling the story to himself every night : a mother who loved him enough to give him the life he deserved , a father clearly not worthy of being in the picture . canyon , a boy with the bare minimum , sees it as more than enough .

a pudgy , quiet child following a robotic schedule doesn’t quite inspire the vision of a progeny to the king of the gods . canyon’s only friends are the ones he’s grown up with and the cousins subbing in as the siblings he was never given , his grandmother being perhaps the first person he tells anything to . but he can’t bring himself to open up when his mother begrudgingly confides a secret in him , taking him out for ice cream as an early birthday gift . he has half a mind to let his grandma know she showed up to her visit under the influence , high off whatever would make her deranged enough to tell canyon his father is a shapeshifting greek god who will be reaching out to him to hone his powers in a few days — but he quickly realizes that snitching would mean even less time spent with a mother who already only sees him in minimal increments . as with everything in life , he keeps it to himself , a move that would pay off when he’s approached by perhaps the most terrifyingly imposing man he’s seen in his life at a church service the day before his birthday .

his father is , despite all the obvious flaws , perhaps everything canyon has dreamed of becoming . they talk briefly during the service and make official introductions before he escapes into the day , promising to return and explain more in time . and he does . canyon’s sure to keep to himself who he’s quietly chatting with in the back pews every sunday , but he and his father talk at length in the relative secrecy of hushed voices in a boisterous sermon . the man doesn’t explain much about how he met canyon’s mother , nor what he does in general , but fills in all the gaps left by his mother’s erratic attempt at a conversation . the man buys canyon a new set of cleats for his birthday and notes to him that he can continue to fill in the gaps if he considers spending his summers away . he’ll make it happen , canyon simply has to agree .

and he does . his grandparents are less than thrilled to think that he’ll be away from them for three months and the fact that he’s making a lot of these details up as he goes nearly gets him caught , but his father helps him conceive a ruse so convincing , they’ll be able to leave his grandparents out of the whole demigod conversation .

and it seems almost as soon as he had found something resembling the parents he so longed for , they leave him perhaps more alone than before . his mother is jailed for a sequence of bad decisions and zeus makes himself a figure less and less , eventually becoming clear to canyon that he too will skirt along with the bare minimum , claiming him at 13 and tapering off the effort he exerts as canyon begins to make a name for himself throughout the american demigod scene . his camp friends ask if he’s planning to attend eonia and canyon makes it clear that he refuses , a full ride scholarship to howard university the only thing in his sights for the future . he wants to detach himself from the culture being force down his throat by these demigod hypocrites , he wants to be adamant in his pride over being a black american fighting for change .

a change of heart comes perhaps on a whim . his father makes an offhand comment about “ what a shame ” it is that canyon doesn’t see himself as cut out for demigod school . the boy , now every bit a young man after his growth spurts leave him at an imposing 6’3 and football shapes his body into a vessel of solid muscle , commands the energy of every group he’s thrust into , a pillar of his community and recognized as the one who will bring their neighborhood into greatness . driven , intelligent , and powerful , canyon grows into his role as the champion , and it becomes apparent that his father wants to push the vision of his own contribution forward where it counts , and canyon — the one born into nothing , wants to grow into something .

eonia welcomes him with open arms and before he even opens his mouth , it’s apparent that he carries himself like the son of a king : though he is quick to distance himself from his father who he had once so - idolized . in his head , he sets out to become something notable without the need to precede himself with his father’s name ; canyon is a force of nature all by his own creation , and he refuses to credit his own well - earned accomplishments to a father who was hardly that . he plans to use eonia to close the demigod chapter in his life , hoping he can hone his powers enough to then never use them , hoping to remain solely involved in the mortal world with no mind given to the demigods’ drama . he plans to attend law school directly upon graduating and become the next spearhead of a political movement with the goal of true justice for all disenfranchised people in mind .

— 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 .

canyon ellis has made a name for himself despite his relative silence , a reputation preceding him even without the influence of his godly father’s name behind him . if anything , canyon represents what the ancient greeks perhaps idolized zeus to be — minus the hedonism that brought upon so much of the chaos plaguing his tales . a boy brought into the bare minimum becomes a man making due with the bare minimum , and canyon is known for a rhetoric that can prove a point out of anything . he’s an introvert in extrovert’s shoes , often spotted around teammates or other members of his clubs though he’s oft the last to say a word , choosing instead to observe in silence with those intense stares he’s become so well - known for . intimidating is perhaps an understatement when you pair his stature with his energy , the strength in his reservation and the discipline in his blood , standing tall and unwavering in his beliefs . he speaks with intention and though he’s most known for his serious side , he carries himself with a humble confidence that allows him to speak his truth with ease and stand up for what he believes in most , unafraid to call out those on the other end of his remarks . though he’s stern and admittedly reserved , he’s not shy , and pushes himself to reach beyond his areas of comfort in order to truly live up to the expectations he places on himself : expectations that are perhaps too high for him to realistically achieve in this lifetime .

though intense , canyon has a soft spot for those closest to him and though he won’t be the one stirring up the entertainment , he’s often biting back a smile at the antics of his loved ones , one of his catch phrases being “ i get the joke , i’m just not laughing because it’s not funny , ” followed by a pat on the head . he’s stern but not entirely humorless , kind but no - nonsense , and tends to hold himself to a certain standard of seriousness in most circumstances . he’ll let loose on the occasional night out , but there’s a sense of tension to him that seems clearly prepared to leap back into his leader shoes and fix whatever disaster may present itself . a projection of strength , poise , and dignity , canyon’s aptitude for leadership is equally his greatest strength and his biggest weakness , imbuing him with a moral compass and a sense of empathy that sometimes makes the world too black and white for him , refusing to see any circumstances that may complicate or excuse something .

his views on loyalty are severe and have left him with a handful of people he’s all but erased from his life , burning bridges without second thought though many in his circle advise him to reconsider . there’s right , and there’s wrong in his world , with nothing in between despite the fact that sometimes , there isn’t as clear cut of an answer as he claims there to be .

pair this with the trauma of his abandonments during the upbringing he faced and it comes together to result in a boy walking in a man’s shoes , fingernails digging into palms with the fever of all the words he bites back , fueled by a crusade for justice to give him some sense of worth — perhaps the only thing holding him together at this point .

— 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 .

AESTHETIC : uphill runs fueled by answer by tyler the creator blaring through your headphones , the perfectionism of a virgo and tenacity of a taurus , falling asleep to the swan by camille saint saens , vision obscured by hot tears , the flex of your jaw as you bite back a comment , the unsettling rumble in the air just before the strike of thunder , kendrick lamar blasting from your classic mustang , picking up the pieces of a shattered porcelain bust , the primal sense of connection in a team huddle , thunderous pounding of your pulse in your ears , being voted “ most likely to become president , ” a wide stance with arms crossed over your chest , power drawn from unity , never division .

my inspos for him were chiron / black from moonlight , erik killmonger from black panther , and batman lmao . i guess maybe some steve rogers ?

he’s the captain of the rugby team !

grew up playing football but the moment he casually played a rugby match at camp and interlocked into a scrum was the moment he was forever converted and has loved the sport ever since . he plays as a lock .

as a pre - law student , he’s in mock trial , as well as in the social justice collective . he is vice president of the black student collective and is an active and passionate member who is outspoken about black identity on campus

#EUINTRO #* ◞ 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝐦𝐞 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝑔𝑜𝑛’ 𝐝𝐨 𝖙𝖔 𝑚𝑒 . ❪ 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 : INTRO .#❪ yes this is a mess no i do not have the brain cells to clean it up #canyon is how i live my vicarious 'i have my shit together' fantasy

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xmjcx · 4 years

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OKAY so my inbox is going a little crazy and I know some of u are super mad LMAO so I thought I would just *explain* my thought process with Sailing Through for those of you who want to know jnidfksm

The way I see it, Anna and Captain Kristoff have soooOoOooO much still to learn; not only about each other (come ON they met four weeks ago under, you know, not very good circumstances lmao) but about relationships (which neither of them are experienced with) and their evolving roles

It was always really important to me that Anna was the one who was in control of their emotional and physical relationship from the beginning: if she wouldn’t have started to fall for him, then he would have just... I think he would have always loved her but like, from afar, and respected her and cared for her and been protective etc but just. never kind of pushed her romantically - she was always going to be the one who would have to take the lead on that front

BUT then we have Captain Kristoff who has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders; he has a ship to run, IMPORTANT stock to transport (life saving vaccine, kind of a big deal) as well his crew to consider. he’s been preparing for this his ENTIRE life; this is very much his world that Anna has been thrust into, not vice-versa, and she’s growing in confidence because he’s making it his priority to train her and to push her not only for her own sake, but for his own mental health too

HOWEVER she’s getting like. not even over-confident, she’s just really coming into her own on the ship with him and she’s really blossoming but at the same time THIS IS NOT HER WORLD, she’s still a little naive and has a lot to learn. so like, with the Olaf thing obviously it’s kind of distressing that he held a gun up to child’s head (lmao sorry it’s not funny but just. kinda funny) h o w e v e r his reasons for doing it were actually kind of just???? like, he was never going to murder a child obviously but it’s not just himself that he has to worry about. he listened to her (& like, he was right to do so) but really it was kind of stupid of him to bring an infection risk onto the ship like that. I know I haven't specified or made it super clear but everyone on the ship is vaccinated but that’s not really the point like there’s still a chance that people could get sick, he made it clear to Anna early on that there is NO CURE so, u know

anyway I’ve kind of lost where I was going with that but my point is that he’s slowly opening up to her, she’s the one leading their personal relationship for obvious reasons and because of that he’s making the mistake of letting her lead him in terms of his duties as Captain which is just. silly of him because even though he’s taking all this time to train her she’s still only been on the ship for four weeks, he has been preparing his whole life for this so. he needed something to make him realise that actually he can’t just listen to everything she says and do whatever because it makes her happy because it can lead to really dangerous situations given their lifestyle (WHICH I STRESS SHE KNOWS VERY LITTLE ABOUT SINCE SHE’S NEW TO IT )

so like. Kristoff trusts her because she’s the one leading their relationship but actually she’s not trusting him in the same way (YET) and she really needed a strong lesson to show her that actually, he really does know what he’s doing, this is his life, his world, and she still has a lot to learn about it. she needed to see that actually, she needs to trust him and it’s not like the old world that she knew; sometimes shit things happen and she has to learn how to handle herself before something worse happens

OK I think that’s everything. I’ll add something else if I remember looool but yeah I promise I'll fix it but I JUST. wanted to make it clear where I was going with this and I didn’t want to have to type this out 12378932 times (ok not that many there’s not really that many of u lmao but u know what I mean) and also it would have made for a preeeeeetty long authors note on ao3 so um yeah. if there’s anything else I think of then I'll add to this but yeah I’m pretty sure that’s everything

thanks for coming to my TED talk lol

#Sailing Through #rambling thought processes #idek #here's my justification LMAO

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nautiscarader · 5 years

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Robstar 29

Incorporating two prompts I got on FF: starfire comes from another planet to save her species by finding a mate (and bringing him home to the others).raven meditating and picking up starfire and robin in another room.

()(Ao3)(next>>)

Sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, Raven closed her eyes and attuned herself to the movements of the spheres, gently floating into the air. Her dark room allowed her the comfort necessary to achieve such mental state, and thanks to her astute mind and training, there was very little that could have disturbed her.

Unfortunately, that very little happened to occupy the room next to her.

When Raven felt the sudden, overwhelming spike of emotions, she lost her balance and fell to her bed, flailing her legs and arms, like a spinning top thrown out of its perfect rhythm. It took her a moment to realise what was the cause of the interruption, when another burst of positive, glowing energy reached her through the walls, confirming her worries. As a trained empath, Raven could easily detect the emotions of her friend on the opposite side of the wall, despite its thickness, strengthened by various materials meant to stop sound or vibrations penetrating it (and truth to be told, Raven and Beast Boy were partially responsible for that addition).

But Raven didn’t need superhearing or x-ray vision to know what was going on the other side. Her hyper-active friend, Starfire, glowed like a bright light in the darkness, and in her state, it was a flame so vivid and colourful Raven was worried it might become a wildfire soon. A much more subdued source of energy appeared in the form of her boyfriend, and she was sure the spike of energy occurred exactly when Starfire began undoing her clothes. Raven has seen the pattern before, and knew it was only a matter of time until their desire would explode, and the only reason why it hasn’t yet was because the two were probably talking about something. And though she wanted to go back to her meditation, Raven wondered what they were talking about…

- Robin… - Starfire asked timidly, undoing buttons of her shirt - Shall we engage in another play of the roles? - A roleplay? - Robin approached towards her and placed a single kiss on her now-exposed shoulder, while his hand brushed her thigh. - I’m all ears. - No, you’re not. You’re all you. - Starfire spoke - Or is that one of verbal phrases? - Yes, yes, it is Starfire. - Robin chuckled. - So, what was that roleplay idea?

As if a trumpet was blown right next to her ear, Raven jolted in place at the same time as Starfire leaned and whispered her idea into Robin’s ears. Their auras mixed and pulsed with a new kind of desire she hasn’t felt with them so far, only strengthening her curiosity. And whether she wanted to or not, she has become a witness of some colourful spectacles of emotions in her room, and reluctantly understood that there was no point in trying to go back to her meditation.

- And? - Starfire asked, blinking - Does my idea possess enough kink? - Yeah, I’d say so… - Robin gulped, and took a step back - Ready when you are…

Starfire cleared her throat and floated a few inches above the ground, watching as Robin’s face is torn with a pretence grimace.

- Greetings, human - she spoke in a stoic, and near-regal tone. - I am Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, and I seek your help. - An… an alien! From another world! - Robin spoke, watching as Starfire twirls around in mid-air. - That is true. I am a magical princess from another dimension.

She bowed and moved her arms, drawing a flaming arc above her head.

- I have come here to seek help of your people, for you see, my planet is dying.

She floated towards him and cupped his face, staring into his eyes as she gathered strength to fully articulate the naughty idea that has been sitting on her mind for quite some time.

- I, and many others, are in a dire need of a mate. Wars have diminished our supplies of men, and so, we were sent to other worlds to find… the most suitable of them…

Raven felt how their foreplay changed when Starfire’s voice became more and more salacious, and without becoming fully aware of it, Raven’s hand gravitated towards her sex, and she began mashing her pussy and clit first through her fabric, and then directly, as her fingers slipped underneath her costume.

- W-wait! - Robin protested - Does- does that mean that I- - If you’d be chosen, you’d travel to my planet to help us reach numbers from before the war. But I need first to test you if you are worthy of becoming the saviour of my kind.

She undid the security locks of her costume, and one by one the blue-purple armor fell to the floor, increasing Robin’s pulse witch each piece. On the other side of the wall, Raven wondered what the two were doing; she deduced they must still be in the foreplay stage, but with each second, their energies glowed more and more brightly, until suddenly, a flash appeared in her mind, at the same time as last piece of Starfire’s costume fell to the floor and she was dragged into Robin’s laps.

Their lips met in a hungry, ravenous kiss that lasted only a few seconds, as Starfire broke it looking deep into Robin’s genuinely confused eyes.

- Robin of Earth! Is this necessary for procreating? - We call it “love” - he added, placing another kiss on her exposed bosom - Don’t you have that? - I feel my people will have a lot to learn from you…

Starfire smiled and allowed Robin to overtake her, pushing her to the bed, while his kisses slowly ventured down, alongside her voluptuous breasts, flat belly and down her long legs, deliberately missing her wet sex. He looked up, hearing an annoyed gasp from her, and he only returned a cocky smile, while his arms kept her legs from impatient flailing. He stared for a moment at her radiant face, enveloped with the red halo of her hair, before he dived between her legs, listening to the sweet music of her moans produced when his tongue met with her lips.

Rave could feel the same spikes of energy, and could almost see Starfire’s back arching and her levitating in the air as Robin caressed her. She ditched all the pretence and threw aside her cape, and relaxed on the bed, raising her legs to get her hands better access to her wet sex. She drained the emotions, fed on them, and she came close to her orgasm at the same time as Starfire coated Robin’s face with her juices, after his lengthy set of licks and kisses.

- Is… is this what happens before mating? - Starfire asked, continuing her naive play. - Sometimes, if a man cares about his woman… - I think I made a good decision, then…

She reached her arms and pulled Robin towards her, tasting herself on his lips, as her boyfriend got comfortable between her legs. His hands gravitated towards her hips, and with no effort, he gently pushed them against her body, slowly puling her behind up, until Starfire caught onto the idea and helped him maintain the highly erotic position.

- Ready? - I certainly am. - she nodded.

With her legs locked underneath her arms, Robin had the perfect view of her pussy, adorned with a small bush of fiery, red hair. He grabbed her thighs again, and staring into her widened eyes, he hilted himself in, slow at first, and then, as Starfire’s voice grew, faster, until she was babbling, begging him to speed up. With a quick grunt he fulfilled her promise, and next thing she knew, he was balls deep inside her, feeling her body twitch and quiver as her nerves were suddenly set on fire with the rapid thrust.

But Robin did not respond to that, knowing well her raised voice was nothing to be concerned. Soon her cries turned into moans and wails, encouraging him to continue his noble quest, her voice breaking and quivering as her body rocked under Robin’s constant, rhythmic thrusts.

- Ro-Robin! Please do not-not stop the mating! - I’m not… gonna.

Robin flexed his feet and leaned over her, pressed his lips against hers as his hips mercilessly pounded her, diving his cock in and out. And behind the wall, Raven was spasming and writhing, inches away from her own orgasm. She felt the animalistic, primal intent they both had, and genuinely wasn’t sure if the two were just role-playing, was they just taunting each-other, or if they really wanted to do this.

And it was that new emotion that drove Raven over the edge, making her slam her hips against the bed, at the same time as Robin collapsed onto Starfire, his cock filling the condom with burst after burst of his seed, while her walls clenched around him, milking him for more. Her moans became a continuous wail, and if she wasn’t so tired, she’d gladly levitate them into the air.

- Robin… You truly are the best choice I have… - Are all women on your planet as beautiful as you? - he asked, when he caught his breath, and started toying with her hair. - Some… some are… - Then how about we do it like this: you get to keep me, and we’ll get some other folks for the rest. Deal? - I agree, Robin! You shall be my personal mate!

The two giggled, and rolled back and forth on Starfire’s bed, basking in the powerful orgasm they just went through, completely oblivious that just a few feet away they have pleasured their friend. Raven stared at the ceiling, her chest still moving erratically up and down, while her thoughts raced her mind slower and slower.

On one hand, she knew it was wrong, and she shouldn’t have spied on them; on the other, the pure, unabashed intent that emanated from the emotions, was very, very real, even if it was a made-up scenario. But the worst thing was, she desperately needed to live through it again, perhaps this time with someone who would be up to the task…

As if on command, the door to her room opened, and beast Boy walked in, with two packagaes of Chinese food.

-Hey, they Rae, brought you-Woah!

He flinched when he saw her lying half-naked on her bed, with her glistening sex relfecting the lttle light her room produced.

- Uh, is something wrong?

But before he say anything more, two dark magical tentacles brought him to her, and soon Raven didn’t need her magic to keep him by his side. She rolled him to his back, straddled him, and unapologetically tore his suit apart, revealing his naked body underneath it.

- I’d take what they were having. - They? - Beast Boy asked, curious at her behaviour. - I’ll explain later.

And with thatt, Raven began moving her hips up and down, coating his cock with the copious amount of her juices that only helped her reach her cause.

#robstar #lemon #fereality-indy #Robin #Starfire #Teen titans #nautiscaraderfics

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cottontail20 · 5 years

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Fairytales Can Come True

Summary: Still grieving Vision’s death, Wanda Maximoff feels entirely awkward and out of place at Tony Stark’s funeral. But then, Morgan Stark approaches asking if Wanda can fix her ‘brother ‘..ScarletVision, one-shot, Endgame fix-it.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026298

Vision was dead.

Wanda Maximoff was thrust back into that painful reality, into the midst of a battle in which she had tried and failed to avenge her lost love, and before the dust had settled on the battlefield, more painful realities had come.

Natasha Romanoff was dead, having sacrificed herself to retrieve the Soul Stone and return them all. Natasha, who had trained her in combat, helped Steve rescue her from the Raft. Helped her learn how to mask her accent, and keep under the radar when they were on the run. Natasha, who had risked her own life to save Wanda's, and make sure she knew that she wasn't alone.. Natasha Romanoff was dead, gone, and Wanda had never had the chance to say goodbye, and thank her for all she had done.

And then, shattering the initial elation at their enemies crumbling to dust, came the news that Tony Stark was dead, too.

Wanda felt horribly out of place at Stark's funeral, surrounded by so many people who loved him, or at least knew him in a way that Wanda had never allowed herself to. For awhile she had stuck close to Sam, and Bucky, the only person who seemed as awkward about being there as she was, and she'd had a nice heart to heart with Clint. But now Bucky and Sam had both gone to see Steve off on his quest to return the Infinity Stones, and Clint, understandably, was occupied with reconnecting with his wife and children. --

This left Wanda standing awkwardly in a corner of Stark's beautiful Lake House, clutching a rapidly cooling mug of tea that had been pressed into her hands by an older woman with a sympathetic face but whose name she couldn't remember (Jane? No, that was Thor's ex.. Janice? Maybe it would come to her), quite some time earlier.

While Natasha's death was a deep personal loss, and the absence of Vision was an enormous gaping wound in a heart that already been shattered too many times, Wanda Maximoff's feelings about the death of Tony Stark were a great deal more complicated. She didn't have the grief-fueled hatred for him that had plagued her in her youth. She knew that Stark wasn't a monster who had taken her parents from her. And, he was at least partly responsible for the creation of Vision, who had become the love of her life. But as much as she knew this, there was a little part of her that couldn't completely let go of his admittedly small role in her parents' deaths. Because of this, Wanda did not feel Tony's loss as keenly or painfully as some of her friends did.

Or at least, not in quite the same way, or more accurately, for the same reason. For a moment, Wanda's eyes fixed on the dark haired little girl tailing her Mother around the House as she received everyone's condolences. Wanda knew how it felt to lose your parents. Morgan Stark still had her Mother, of course- but she was only five, so much younger than Wanda had been when the bomb destroyed her home. No child should have to lose a parent that young.

So, rather than grieving for Tony Stark, about whom her feelings were still hugely complicated, Wanda found herself grieving instead for a fellow daughter who had lost her Father too soon. Becoming lost in these thoughts, her eyes beginning to sting, Wanda didn't immediately notice when said fellow daughter came to stand in front of her. Morgan tugged at her skirt to get her attention.

"Oh, hello" Wanda, slightly surprised, wiped her eyes, set aside her now stone-cold cup of tea and crouched down to the little girl's eye-level so she could speak to her properly. "Your name is Morgan, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh. And you're Maximoff."

"I'm Wanda" Wanda chuckled, "But Maximoff is my last name. How did you know?"

"Daddy told me" Morgan looked around for a moment, as if half expecting her Daddy to appear, and Wanda felt a pang of sympathy for the child. The little girl tilted her head to one side, small hands toying with the hem of her dress. "Can you fix my brother?"

"Your brother?" Wanda's brow furrowed, very confused. So far as she knew, Morgan was an only child. However, her eyes briefly flickered over to Peter Parker, the Spider-Man. Wanda had caught only a brief glimpse of Peter after the battle, but the boy had been inconsolable. He was currently conversing with his Aunt and a teenager with sandy blonde hair whom whom Wanda didn't recognize, though she knew he had been standing near her during the ceremony at the lake.

"Well, he's kinda like a brother, 'cause Daddy helped make him" Morgan continued. Wanda's heart leaped into her throat.

"Is.. Is his name Vision?"

"Yeah! He's in Daddy's shed. You wanna come see?" Morgan held out a hand.

Wanda did, very much. But she was also aware of the questionable morality of following a small child somewhere without their parents knowing where they had gone, so scanned the immediate area for Pepper Potts. It didn't take long, because as it turned out, Pepper was already watching them. She had the red-rimmed eyes of someone who had been crying a lot recently, but managed a small smile, nodding her consent. So, Wanda took Morgan's small hand, letting her lead the way. --

Wanda wasn't sure why she was surprised to find that the shed was not, strictly speaking, just a shed. It had been Tony Stark's, after all. While the building certainly looked like a shed from the outside, inside was a fully functional high-tech lab.

Morgan led Wanda past numerous work tables of half-completed projects that would now never be finished, past numerous robots and gadgets.. and then she spotted the cradle, so similar to the one from which Vision had been born, humming with energy. Wanda let go of Morgan's hand, running to it, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. There, inside the cradle, was Vision. He was still the dull grey color that he had become after Thanos had ripped the Mind Stone from his head, but otherwise, he looked as though he could have been sleeping rather than dead. Both his crushed skull and the gash in his chest had been painstakingly repaired, and someone had gently closed his eyes.

Wanda laid her hand on the cradle, her hearts racing as she summoned the small wisps of red energy to her fingertips. Hope swelled in her chest. She could read.. Something. Vision wasn't all there, but neither was he entirely gone.

"Daddy's been trying to fix Vision for a real long time" Said Morgan, plopping herself down into a small chair not far from where Wanda stood.

"Was he?" Wanda didn't move her hand, but pulled her eyes away from Vision long enough to look around a bit. The area around the cradle was set up differently.. it had a personal touch, more like someone's bedroom than part of a lab. A stack of books Wanda recognized as Vision's sat on a small table beside the cradle, along with a framed photograph of Wanda and a disguised Vision from one of their visits together. The lump in her throat returned, along with a sudden rush of affection for Tony Stark, and an equal rush of guilt for never truly understanding who he was.

"Uh-huh" Morgan continued, swinging her legs. "He fixed all his boo boos, and he talks to him when he's working. I talk to him too, sometimes. But he couldn' wake him up without his magic stone.."

"The Mind Stone.."

"Daddy always said 'It might be different if Maximoff was here'."

"See.." Wanda's eyes drifted back to Vision inside of the cradle. It wasn't difficult to join the dots. Since Wanda's powers came from the Mind Stone, Tony had thought she may be the final piece in the puzzle of restoring Vision.

"You're here now" said Morgan. "So can you fix my brother?"

"I don't know.." Wanda flashed a small smile in Morgan's direction, already growing fond of her. How could she not? The little girl was adorable. "But I'm definitely going to try."

"Yay!"

Wanda chuckled. Then, nervously, she pressed a button to open the cradle. Summoned the scarlet energy to the tips of her fingers once more.

"Morgan, stand back a little, okay? I'm not sure what's going to happen."

"Okay" Morgan slid out of her chair and took a few steps backwards.

With a shaky breath, Wanda bent over the cradle, pressing her glowing hands to the sides of his head. Focused hard, on what was left of Vision, on what she knew of him, her own memories of who he was, all the quirks and foibles he had developed since his birth, focused on the love the two of them had shared.

Color sparked on Vision's skin, the vibrant pinkish-red Wanda had come to know so well. Flickered, as if it was trying to spread, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Vision.. Vision, wake up.." Wanda begged, devoting every ounce of energy she had to this, to him. "Come on, Vizh.. please.. Feel me." And then, because it was the only thing she could think to do, she leaned down and kissed him.

The effect was almost immediate. Color bloomed and spread, dull grey transforming into red, silver, teal, and gold.

"Wow.." Morgan's jaw dropped.

Vision's eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright, gasping.

"Vision.." Wanda threw her arms around him, happy tears in her eyes. "It's okay.. You're okay.."

"Wanda.." Vision slowly came back to himself, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, drawing her close. "W-What happened? Thanos.."

"He's gone now.. He's gone" Wanda peppered kisses over his face. He was here. He'd come back to her. "He's gone, and you're with me."

"I'm with you.."

"Yeah!" Morgan piped up, jumping for joy, and Vision's surprised eyes moved to the little girl. "Maximoff kissed you and you woke up, just like Sleeping Beauty!"

"Wanda" Wanda corrected her gently, "But yes, he was a bit like sleeping beauty, wasn't he?"

"Uh-huh" Morgan clambered into Vision's lap. "Hi, brother!"

Vision looked at her a moment, his brow crinkling. An almost memory.. A small voice, crayons and a coloring book resting on his cradle..

"Morgan.." Vision's hand ran through the little girl's dark hair, a small smile spreading over his face. "You're Morgan."

Wanda laughed and kissed his cheek, her heart so full.

All too soon, certain painful realities would crash on Vision just as they had crashed upon her. But not yet.

For just a few moments more, they would enjoy their fairytale.

#scarletvision #scarlet vision #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #the vision #vision m #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #morgan stark #Avengers #avengers endgame #avengers engame spoilers #endgame fix it #endgame spoilers

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maggotmouth · 5 years

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hullo it nora, back for more mess. this unhinged little nightmare is cecily who i first birthed around 3 years ago and i am so excited to finally be playing her again. feral wolf girl who loves silk babydoll dresses and bubblegum but would also cut your femoral artery if she was bored. is the eptome of that “somethin dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” trope. amma crellin meets harley quinn meets addy hanlon. ( pinterest )

APP.

( nora. 22. gmt. she / her. ) it might be HER FRESHMAN year but I still think CECILY DE ROSA looks exactly like FREYA MAVOR and sometimes I think the FEMALE is actually them. Of course I’m wrong, as they’re 19 and studying THEATRE while living in FIDELIS here at Lockwood. The GEMINI can be rather PUCKISH and CANDID, but also kind of SELF-CENTRED and HYSTERICAL. Their most played song on Spotify was CELL BLOCK TANGO by CATHERINE ZETA JONES AND THE COMPANY OF CHICAGO, so I think that says a lot.

BACKGROUND.

tw death suicide murder proceed w caution

born as ‘lamia romana’ in italy to catholic parents. her father was a struggling alcoholic and incredibly depressed. when cece was 4, and her brother was 3 her father fed the gas pipe through the back of their car whilst they prepared to go on their family holiday because he knew suicide would leave his wife and children penniless so he decided the most selfless thing would be to take them with him

cecily (lamia) and her brother luc by some miracle survived the accident, but were left orphaned. they were sent to a convent where they were raised by nuns. cece was incredibly religious. it became her whole life. she was devoted to god completely, almost crazed, because in the absence of parents she transferred the need for a guider and protector onto this spiritual other evoked by her religious beliefs.

she always had a strained relationship w her brother because she believed he wasn’t as devoted to catholicism as she was. when she was 13 he claimed that god wasn’t real and that she was a freak, and in a violent rage cecily thrust a crucifix through his throat. it was completely out of character for her. she screamed until her throat went dry. eventually, when the nuns managed to tear her away from her brother’s body, she was taken to a psychiatric hospital in manhattan where she stayed for two years. driven to madness, she convinced herself that she had been possessed by the devil the moment she killed her brother, and soon she began to accept her fate, as not holy, like she had anticipated, but in fact it’s ungoldy antithesis

when she was released, she was adopted by an american distant aunt and uncle and sent to a manhattan boarding school under the new name ‘cecily de rosa’. see also: st. trinnians. lifted of any religious obligation, cecily grew wild. she delighted in acting up, cheeking her superiors, causing havoc and chaos, terrifying the other girls. sex became her weapon – she would seduce the boys from the local comprehensive and drop them like flies. to her, it was merely a game.

uses sex as a weapon, a way in which to manipulate men, having filmed sexual liasons with both a former acting coach and a TA to use for the purposes of blackmail.

her expulsion from school was threatened after she streaked the school naked and doused in pig blood, but her academic prowess was an asset to the school, so they learnt to put up with her antics. she applied for yale but didn’t get in.

she atended juliard for a year but was thrown out for indecency

theatre-wise, one of Cecily’s most commendable traits is her sheer tenacity and lack of inhibition – she is willing to do whatever it takes to climb to the top, and kick as many other people down as necessary on her way there. tthis unhinged hunger for success was evidenced when, in her breakout role, cecily played Tamora in Titus Andronicus. feeling the presentation of one of shakespeare’s most terrifying women was ‘pussy-footed’ and dulled down for a male audience, cecily took matters into her own hands, and during the famous banquet scene where Tamora is fed her own sons, she ate a pig’s heart live on stage – receiving both awestruck and horrified press reviews for her performance -- and getting expelled from her drama school. (thats why she is now at lockwood)

she is in a sorority house n the gymnastic squad. she speaks fluently in four languages. the kind f sociopathic lana del rey writes songs about.

was raised Roman Catholic, and although she is now estranged from religion, it’s still an integral part of her identity. She holds it partially responsible for the need to repress emotion she still experiences. The only time she allows herself to truly feel, without perceiving it as a weakness, is when she’s performing

cecily was raised with dual-nationality and is multi-lingual. Her parents frequently spoke both Italian and English around the house, leading cecily to do the same. She is also somewhat familiar with Latin, having studied it alongside Literature, Contemporary Dance and Theatre at a manhattan-based performing arts boarding school.

ethereal wood elf. plays flute and does ballet. her favourite tv shows are making a murderer and dance moms. she is big on Tchaikovsky and Bukowski. poetry to cecily is soup of the soul, despite the fact that the only things she really feels are apathy and mild disgust. her poems mostly centre around the beauty of violence -- writing about it often prevents her from committing violent acts -- and also her cat.

loves gettin fucked up. always high on sometin -- cocaine, ecstasy, love, her own ego.

had her first taste of alcohol at 15 and has stayed fond of spirits ever since. likes literature of the macabre, isn’t fond of social media, and loves knee high socks and glitter. she bites her nails, will only take cold showers, and doesn’t drink coffee. loves cats. is vegan.

she sleeps like a cat, regularly but short amounts of time, and is usually found awake at night stalking the streets in the pursuit of self-destruction. she views herself as pansexual because she is attracted to people rather than genders but she thinks men are trash. probably biromantic or homoromantic. she loves the chase. she likes meaningless sexual liasons, but if hearts are broken in the process, even better. hearts are breakable and she believes those who have them are foolish.

aesthetic: peroxide hair in a bathtub, bleach, glittery socks under spaghetti strap heels, silk slip dresses, glitter smeared beneath eyes, split knuckles, nose bleeds, a bubble of blue gum snapped against cherry flavoured lips, orange peel, knee-high socks, tartan two-piece skirt and blazers, kate moss posters ripped out of vogue, littering a bedroom wall, yearbook photos tacked together with red thread, clip in highlights, stick on earrings, french music humming from a crackly gramophone, a hip flask covered with hello kitty stickers

PLOTS.

i currently have NO PLOTS for her so everything is open. if you want a cousin / ex-lover / friend with benefits / bully, or are dying for a specific connection, let me know or like this post and i will msg you!! LOVE U ALL xoxo

more plots all of these are plagiarised:

“you were drunk and you climbed in through my apartment window and I’m not really sure how you managed it because not only is the fire escape broken but you are really fucking plastered wtf please, teach me your skills?”

“i set your kitchen on fire ‘by accident’ because i hate your guts, and you know it was me but you have no evidence”

“we’re in a breakfast club style all day detention”

“you came over for ‘help studying’ and my roommate came home five minutes after we were done hooking up and you got roped into a conversation about her dogs and everyone is uncomfortable”

“we’re friends but it’s a really toxic relationship made up of trying to one up each other all the time”

“I caught you writing gay porn in the library and now you’re terrified i’ll tell everyone, but really i’m just waiting for the next instalment”

“i asked you to help me sneak my cat into my dorm but we got caught by the janitor and now we’re both in the principal’s office”

“you saw me come back to my apartment covered in blood one night, but you’ve never asked about it because you’re scared that yours might be the next blood i’m covered in”

“you broke into my apartment while I was out for whatever reason and when I came home I knocked you out and now you’re unconscious on my floor and idk what to do?”

“i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“you keep dragging suspicious sacks up to and down from your apartment and I don’t know what your deal is or why I still wanna bone you”

“we’re in the same rocky horror troupe”

“i stayed over at your house and woke you up in the middle of the night to have sex while your roommate is asleep and every time, your room mate yells “STOP FUCKING, JESUS CHRIST” right when we’re about to finish”

“we used to have a thing but now we hate each others guts and can’t be in the same room without yelling at one another”

“i had a drunk one night stand with your brother last year and i threw up in your room, and now we’re in a class together and it’s really awkward.”

#tw:intro #tldr - crazy bitch like 4 plots

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asfeedin · 4 years

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‘I recognize this weird silver lining of the terminal cancer experience.’ How metastatic breast cancer prepared me for the coronavirus pandemic

Three years ago, at age 45, I found a lump in my breast that would mark the end of my life as I knew it.

I am not alone: In 2020, approximately 276,000 women in this country will be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer. Most will be cured. Their treatment will challenge their bodies and psyches, and they will be left with scars on both. But ultimately, most women diagnosed with breast cancer will come out survivors and get on with their lives.

A small percentage of women, like me, will not be so fortunate. We are the roughly 6% whose cancer has already spread to other parts of our bodies by the time it’s found. Metastatic breast cancer has no passage and no cure.

“ Having terminal cancer in the midst of a global pandemic can stir up all kinds of worries: Will I get this crazy virus and die alone? Will all the clinical trials for live-saving breast cancer drugs stop? Will my doctors be too distracted to give me thoughtful care? ”

I can still see the face of the oncologist, whom my husband and I were meeting for the first time, as she uttered, “We’ve seen some abnormalities on your scans.” I remember trying to listen as she explained what this meant. She began sharing a lot of information, which my husband and I tried to follow. We held hands tightly as this oncologist whom we didn’t know explained that my cancer, initially considered small and treatable, had somehow managed to jump the fence and spread to my liver and bones. My prognosis went from excellent to unknown, but likely grim.

My future unwound right there in that cramped exam room, under too-bright lights, with a strange woman who was apparently now responsible for keeping me alive. In that moment, I was kicked into the mystery of this dangerously stubborn illness, forced to find my way.

Since my diagnosis, I have lost a lot and I have grieved a lot, over and over again. Loss, grief, assimilation. Repeat. With each cycle, different pieces of me are stripped away. Sometimes it’s physical — different breasts, a thrust off the cliff into early menopause, and the challenging side effects of never-ending cancer treatment. Then there are losses of identity and purpose, roles I have long played, or roles I thought I might play in a future I once found reliable. Living with metastatic cancer requires a persistent relationship to uncertainty, loss of control and the prospect of death.

In the beginning, this new reality was terrifying. I am the mother of two young children. It is exquisitely vulnerable, if not impossible, to metabolize the fact that I may die before they finish elementary school. Yet I recognized early in my journey that I would have to try, because to live in a constant state of fear and distress would keep me from whatever precious moments I have left with them.

During this COVID-19 pandemic, it has been said (but bears repeating) that we are all navigating frightening and uncharted waters. We are a tribal species now being forced apart during a crisis. None of us knows what the next month will look like, and increasingly, it seems we may not even know what the next year will look like. Some predictions are dire; others are steeped in denial.

Alongside this collective trembling, each of us must also contend with our own personal circumstances. Whatever stress was present before March 15 will likely be exacerbated during this time. For many, it will be economic. For many, it will be familial. For me, it’s my own brand of existential dread.

“ In order to stay balanced amid this chaos and show up for my family, I have a moment-by-moment practice of staying present to what’s right in front me — whether it’s the freckle on my daughter’s cheek as I watch her learn to read, or the moon rising over the fog, or the emerging scent of spring. ”

Having terminal cancer in the midst of a global pandemic can stir up all kinds of worries: Will I get this crazy virus and die alone? Will all the clinical trials for live-saving breast cancer drugs stop? Will my doctors be too distracted to give me thoughtful care? Will I have to change treatments, again, to something so toxic I can’t home school my children? The list goes on. My anxiety levels have risen sharply in the past month.

But at the same time, I recognize this weird silver lining of the terminal cancer experience. My baseline is ridden with so much uncertainty that I feel very prepared to handle this collective moment we’re in. It’s as if the world has joined me for a brief sojourn, and I rather enjoy feeling less alone in the topsy-turvy reality of my life.

So I walk the delicate line between life and death, and I embrace this unexpected path for the spiritual boot camp that it is. It’s not all bad — facing mortality offers a clarity of the heart that cannot be bottled or shared. It is the gift in the wound. Facing mortality also forces me to reckon, repeatedly, with the anxiety that naturally creeps into my human body trying to survive. The metastatic cancer experience is appropriately called a roller coaster. I have seen the highs when my treatment works and the lows when my treatment does not work.

In 2019, I changed treatments seven times because they were not working. That’s a lot. It’s unbelievably scary. In order to stay balanced amid this chaos and show up for my family, I have a moment-by-moment practice of staying present to what’s right in front me — whether it’s the freckle on my daughter’s cheek as I watch her learn to read, or the moon rising over the fog, or the emerging scent of spring. This practice, like all practices, takes attention and perseverance. But it also builds muscle and resilience; it has allowed me to keep my feet on the ground in the midst of tremendous uncertainty.

Someday, our collective will get to the other side of this virus. Maybe in a couple of months; maybe not until a vaccine is developed in 2021. I can see the light shining at the end of this difficult tunnel. I can feel the warmth, the relief, as we breathe free and learn to touch each other again.

But I can also feel how my path will, once again, diverge from the world of normal into the precarious world of cancer. When we are through this, I will still be here with this cancer, with this relentless uncertainty, practicing how to stay present with all the beautiful moments I have left.

Leda Dederich is a mother, educator and patient advocate based in Berkeley, Calif.

This essay is part of a MarketWatch series, ‘Dispatches from the front lines of a pandemic.’

MarketWatch photo illustration/iStockphoto

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Tags: article_normal, breast, cancer, coronavirus, Experience, Health, lifestyle, lining, living, metastatic, pandemic, prepared, recognize, Silver, terminal, Weird

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cinful-stories · 7 years

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Bees? (Albert Burckhardt x MC)

(In honor of the release of Albert's story yesterday! I apologize for the lengthy fanfic spam, but I had some story ideas that I had to experiment with. This is one of them. Enjoy!)

(No warnings. MC adores nature and pushes for environmental conservation in this story. This is also a reminder to cherish your environment while you still have it!)

It was a particularly balmy day in the kingdom of Stein. Summer was encroaching on its final month, and its waves of scorching humidity had kept most of the palace staff indoors. The absence of the royal gardener had caused an infestation of brittle weeds to invade the palace walls. Grasshoppers were thriving among the blades of lush grass, and ants scurried along the cracks in the pavement, both unafraid of perilous footsteps pounding down on their spines. Aside from the hyperactivity of nature, there were minimal signs of movement in the Garden of Stars that morning, and that was precisely what Albert had planned for when he had invited the Princess of Wysteria out for a leisurely stroll.

“I hope the weather isn’t too warm for you, Your Highness,” the rigid knight spoke warily.

The man’s fingers tugged impulsively at the collar of his military coat, discreetly trying to expel the broiling air that had been contained inside without having to disrobe. Pellets of perspiration were dripping down his chest, causing his uniform to cling to his skin; however, his unwavering countenance did not betray his suffering. It was rare when he had the opportunity to engage the princess in private conversation, and he was determined not to sacrifice a single second for the sake of feeling a breeze on his skin. From beside Albert, a wistful sigh emitted from the princess’s lips.

“No, the weather is fine, Albert,” she mused, her eyes glimmering as they observed the scenery around her. “I couldn’t imagine being cooped up in a meeting on a day like this. It’s gorgeous out here!”

Albert nodded in affirmation and continued to peer at (y/n) from above his spectacles. Her skin was radiating with a healthy glow under the morning sun, and her cheeks held a dewy sheen to them. A faint blush had been painted across her nose, and her eyes were wide with enchantment as they darted back and forth, soaking everything in. Albert had to admit that the princess's admiration for nature was rather endearing to witness.

“I’m glad I could offer a reprieve from your duties, Princess,” he murmured, preventing his glasses from sliding down his face with a gloved index finger. “Are you sure you won’t be missed at today's meeting with King–”

“Sir Albert, look!”

In a flurry of fabric from her skirt, (y/n) whirled on her heels and sprinted up the path leading away from the garden’s centerpiece – the fountain. The princess’s golden heels stumbled through the grassy trails and sunk into the soil, undoubtedly coating her ankles with earthy sludge. Utterly bewildered, Albert watched with quizzical eyes as the Princess of Wysteria knelt down in the garden and began pulling at something lodged in the ground.

“P-Princess, what on earth are you doing? You’re going to ruin your clothes!” the royal knight scolded, trotting over to examine the damage she had done to her skirt.

“Don’t worry about my skirt. Nico made certain that I packed plenty of spare items for our stay,” she muttered, gripping something in her hand and standing up.

Cradled gingerly between the princess’s fingers was a single, white rose. Its petals were as light as freshly fallen snow, but the flower was beginning to droop and display signs of withering.

“I figured since it was already starting to die that Byron wouldn’t mind if I took this one,” she explained, her fingers moving to part her hair.

Albert observed silently as (y/n) tucked the rose behind her left ear. It was a beautiful sight, and she looked positively stunning. Moments passed by without speech as the pair locked eyes. A warm, summery breeze rustled the grass around their shoes, and a blue jay screeching from the branches of a nearby tree.

“Uh, y-you aren’t saying anything. Does it look bad?” (y/n) inquired meekly, the faint pink color turning red on her face. Her eyes were casted downward, and a hand flew self-consciously toward the flower.

“No! The rose is fine, but—” Albert began, scrambling for a fitting explanation.

The Princess of Wysteria had visited Stein on multiple occasions at the request of King Byron. It was known for miles that Byron Wagner had been searching for the next queen of his beloved country, and (y/n) had easily become the most suitable fit for the role. She was dedicated, poised, and trained diligently in politics by her tutors, but she was also beautiful, adventurous, and bold. It was an undeniable match, and it was rumored that Wysteria would soon accept Stein’s proposal of marriage; however, this was a unfortunate series of events for Albert. As loyal as he was to his king, he could not resist the magnetism he felt from the princess. It took everything he could muster to mask his feelings.

“—King Byron will be wondering where you got that stain from. It is not becoming of the future Queen of Stein to conduct meetings in filthy clothes,” he spat coldly, crossing his arms over his chest to contain the shattering of his heart.

The princess scoffed playfully and began tugging at her skirt.

“I suppose you’re right. If I’m ever going to get Byron to show an ounce of interest in me, wearing a clean dress is a good place to start. Let’s go back inside.”

Just as (y/n) was about begin walking, a blur of movement beside her head caught Albert’s eye. Hovering around the petals of the white rose was a plump, yellow bee. Its small wings were fluttering at an astonishing rate, and its spindly legs were prepared to station themselves in her hair. The knight could feel his heartrate increase rapidly as his hand fumbled for something beneath his coat. If the princess were to get stung on his watch, Nico would never allow him to live it down.

“Princess, don’t move,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave and rumbling in his chest.

“Albert, what are you going on about? I thought you wanted me to get a change of clothes,” she protested, giggling sweetly.

“Please, just remain still,” he ordered, revealing a silver dagger from his inside pocket. The metal blade gleamed menacingly in the daylight and casted a blinding reflection on the princess’s forehead.

“W-What’s happening?” (y/n) yelped, her voice quivering.

Suddenly, Albert lunged toward the princess and thrusted the blade at the rose in her hair. The flower’s petals sailed into the air, having been ripped off from the stem with the slash of his small sword, and the bee flew alongside them, hovering tantalizingly above Albert’s head.

“Albert!” the princess growled, snatching the hilt of the dagger out of the knight’s hand. “It’s inhumane to slaughter what’s left of the bee population!”

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) regained her composure and lowered the dagger, holding it firmly against her thigh. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her lips were moving downward in a sorrowful frown.

“Since a lot of florists have been using harmful pesticides to protect their plants from insects, bees have been dying in mass numbers across Wysteria. The death toll is so large that they have been formally announced as an endangered species. This has been having a harmful effect on the environment ever since, and the flowers that would normally thrive are wilting faster due to an absence of pollination,” she explained.

Albert gazed down at the princess dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the significance of such a microscopic creature. Why would a princess of a prosperous nation care so much about the population of bees?

“So you see, we should be trying to protect the remaining bees, not trying to slice them up with daggers,” (y/n) said softly, placing a gentle hand on Albert’s bicep.

A faint blush spread rapidly across the man’s face as he was rendered powerless by the young princess. Ripping his gaze away from her glistening orbs, his eyes fell upon the unsuspecting bee looming over his head. It was truly amazing to process that a tiny insect could potentially save the world.

“I suppose if such a creature means so much to a future queen, then I can at least try and do the same,” he replied, his voice emerging as a light whisper.

(y/n)’s face illuminated with relief, and her mouth parted into a grin.

“Thank you, Albert.”

The pair continued to lock eyes. Their skin was both glistening and coated in a soft blush as they looked into each other’s orbs, completely lost for words. Albert’s glasses slid off of the bridge of his nose and tumbled into the grass, but he didn’t mind. He was still able to see his princess in such a close proximity. Before he knew what he was doing, he began to incline toward her face, and his fingers felt for her chin. The tips of his glove traced along her jawline and ran along her cheek. Her arms wrapped themselves around the nape of his neck in a wordless response, and her head tilted in his fingers. They began to draw closer, closing the gap between them and igniting the summer’s powerful heat, aching to exchange a long-desired kiss…

“Ah—! Albert, help!”

In a huff of embarrassment, the knight stumbled back from the princess and whirled around to face the direction of the scream. One arm was already drawing his sword from his hip and the other was yanking the princess behind him in a protective gesture.

Standing at the entrance to the garden was Nico, his arms flying around his head. His countenance was scrunched up in agony, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Nico?” (y/n) called inquisitively from behind the knight, peering over his arm at her flustered attendant.

“I-I came out here to f-fetch you for the meeting in a few minutes,” Nico stuttered, swatting at his leg with the palm of his hand, “but a bee stung me on my thigh!”

“Oh, Nico! I’m so sorry. Let me help you inside,” (y/n) coddled as she hurried toward the butler, nodding an apology at Albert before coaxing the boy indoors.

Left standing in the middle of the Garden of Stars, Albert chuckled jovially to himself.

“Perhaps bees are worth saving after all.”

#obsessed with tsun tsun knights #don't judge me #save the bees #midcin #fanfic #albert burckhardt #nico meier #ikemen series #cybird

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miyaio · 7 years

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Lucina? :o

i’m the first to admit, i always feel very shaky writing lucina! there are certain aspects of her character that are featured less ingame, which then invariably are the ones i want to take a gander at. when i make my attempts at lucina, tho, these are the things i try to keep in mind:

- her sense of duty as a leader: to copypaste from a string of tweets on a somewhat different yet still relevant topic, i think lucina's identity as a leader is very deeply ingrained into most aspects of her personality b/c she sees it as a duty, as s/t she has a responsibility to earn and to maintain, rather than s/t owed to her as a birthright. there are flashes of this throughout her supports and maingame dialogue, especially in her judgment scene if robin is her parent. (or her spouse, ig, but Yuck) it also comes out a lot in the third drama cd, where lucina repeatedly makes it clear that she cannot and will not order the kids to follow her back to the past and essentially abandon all they’ve fought for up until that point. she’s willing to go alone when she reaches mt. prism, even if it hurts to face the concept--the other kids’ choices are not hers to make.

imo a lot of this stems from the very tumultuous nature of her upbringing, where she was likely passed from chrom to his spouse to regent!lissa (a concept i am in love with) w/o very much chance to act as an “understudy” to a sitting ruler, for lack of a better term. being thrust into a leadership position by adolescence, in an apocalyptic world where pretty much all adult guidance is gone, ironically made lucina feel less sure of her worth as a leader. still, i think she does her damndest to uphold this role and be that bastion for the other kids, while also feeling somewhat self-conscious about the boundaries this might create. i know i’ve mentioned in a few of my lucisev fics that lucina feels a tension between her role as the future kids’ leader and her desire for more equal-footed friendship (or romance!),

- her earnestness: as she wryly lampshades in the ch 6 cutscene, lucina is not exactly good at disingenuousness or deception. she tends to come at most things with frankness and honesty, and is disgusted with herself when she must do otherwise--see the build-up to the lucina’s judgment scene once more. one other thing i think about a lot in this context is the end of ch 6, when lucina must hold her head high, carry a carefully polite conversation with chrom, and then walk away from her dead father and the place where she grew up without showing any sign that any of it means a thing to her. it’s a fic i’d like to write at some point, actually! i imagine that must have been tremendously difficult for lucina, and the ch 13 cutscene is then all that shame and loneliness and burden just bursting forth. this isn’t to say that i think lucina is emotionally weak and bad at hiding it--if anything, definitely not the former, and only kind of the latter.

rather, lucina is in her comfort zone when she approaches things earnestly, whether it’s fighting alongside chrom or genuinely wanting to learn about owain’s over-the-top system of weapon nomenclature. her suspicion towards robin aside, she’s very willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, and thus she generally connects well with the..........less serious among the kids. pretty much all her hot springs scramble convos exemplify this perfectly, and her candor in conjunction with her seriousness also colors her interactions with more withdrawn kids like laurent and gerome. it’s a trait of hers that shows up in situations ranging from comedic to dire to romantic, so i try to have it shine through in her dialogue in particular.

- her atrocious sense of humor/fashion: yes, i do actually think the comedy traits are important! i think they give a bit of levity to lucina’s character--she can be quite grim if she’s left to keep herself in Serious Future-Changer mode for too long. since i most often write her with severa, the latter’s scathing wit and witticisms tend to go over lucina’s head in ways i find endearing. i’m all about fallibility when it comes to characters who are usually very composed, so it’s?? refreshing, maybe, to have lucina wear a nightshirt w/emmeryn’s face on it or take one of severa or owain’s severa-isms/owain-isms too literally. again, this is kind of colored by the context and pov that i usually write lucina in, but it’s a trait w/a good mix of non-gimmicky humor and a bit of sadness beneath it. lucina does admit at several points that she finds herself at a loss abut enjoying frivolous things when she has that luxury for the first time in her life. leave it to me to turn everything into navel-gazey weepypasta www

#the kakuseis #arthoure #bounce that assk it's the roundest

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setsunameioh · 7 years

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'You’re a princess and I’m a knight. We fall in love and are the cutesy couple ever. A enemy kingdom attacks our kingdom and in the heat of a battle you’re kidnapped right in front of me while I’m unable to do anything about it.' AU prompt for your Beika Periodicals! Heiji as a samurai and Kazuha as the hime would be nice.

I ended up playing a bit fast and loose with the actual overall prompt, since it was a bit specific for my tastes, but still ended up with something that I hope you’ll like, anon! I ended up writing two scenes in response to this one.

One Hell of a Princess

If there was one thing that he was certain he’d never understand, it was why there were people who were actually jealous of his current position. It was true that while on the outside, it was a rather impressive one- especially for someone with his own personal history, but the fact that they said such things just went to show that they didn’t understand what they were talking about.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had even asked for his current role, so much as it had been thrust on him without him having much say in the matter. Sure, he’d agreed to it at the time, but given the alternative… well, almost anything would have been preferable to that.

Thus he found himself in his current role- one serving as the personal bodyguard to the only daughter of a noble family. One who was destined to one day marry the future emperor, a genuine princess. On the surface, it didn’t sound like that bad of a job- but anyone saying that had clearly never actually met his ward, a headstrong young woman by the name of Toyama Kazuha.

It wasn’t as if he disliked her- on the contrary, really. There were many who might claim that they got along too well, and that he was too quick to forget his own position. That was hardly a surprise, given that it had been made amply clear to him from day one that hardly anyone other than the young princess and her parents actually wanted him around, be it at the royal palace, or Lord Toyama’s private manor. That kind of pressure was something he was used to dealing with, though, so to be frank, it didn’t really bother him.

No, the problem lay in the fact that, to be quite frank, the young princess didn’t actually so much need a bodyguard. It wasn’t that she lead such a secluded life that she rarely had any occasions to put herself in danger- if anything, it was the opposite. While that might make it seem as if there was all the more reason for him to keep watch over her, the truth of the matter had become quite clear, from almost the first day he had met her.

The princess was very much capable of handling herself. If anything, the ones who needed protection were the fools who would dare try and harm her in the first place.

Like, for example, right now.

“Don’t ya think ya should go a bit easy on them?” Tilting his head just so, Heiji made no move to stop the scene that was unfolding before him. It wasn’t all that often that one got to witness a finely dressed princess toss a man twice her size over her shoulder- except if one was him, of course. It was a sight that he surely never tired of, though. “I’m sure they’re all real sorry about tryin’ ta rob ya by now, Princess.”

“That’s a fine thing for you to say!” Finding that there was no more real threat to be had from the groaning men on her feet, Kazuha turned sharply on her heel to face him, narrowing her eyes. “Where was it that you wandered off to in my hour of need, Heiji? Are you not supposed to be my guard?”

“Supposed ta be is a good way of puttin’ it, Princess.” Heiji observed, merely arching a brow. “But somehow I don’t think this counts as yer hour of need, seein’ as ya pretty much put the fear of ya into them. Record time too, I might add. Besides, you were the one who wanted ta make this trip without any additional escort, not me.”

“Well-” Opening up her mouth to protest this, Kazuha just as quickly shut it, realizing full well that he had a point. “I suppose that is a fair point, but nevertheless, it does not change that you abandoned your charge. What was so important that you left me by myself, to be assaulted by bandits?”

“Nature’s call.” The mischievous smirk on his face made it utterly clear that he did not mean that in the poetic sense, but rather, in a far more basic sense- which Kazuha very quickly realized, her face turning a bright shade of red that only made Heiji’s smirk grow. “When I got back, ya were already doin’ pretty well with takin’ care of those fellows yerself, so I thought I would just sit back an’ watch. Turns out ya didn’t need my help this time either.”

“W-well, I suppose if that was your reason, it cannot helped.” Coughing into her hand to cover her embarrassment, Kazuha took a step forward, dusting off her robes. “The question of what we should do with these bandits remains, however.”

“Just leave ‘em be.” Heiji noted, getting to his feet, letting out a slight yawn as he took a few steps forward. Casting a lazy glance towards the three men, he found himself quickly assessing the lot of them. “Don’t ya see the way they’re dressed? They’re probably nothin’ more than a bunch of desperate peasants, fool enough ta think ya were an easy mark.”

“Desperate?” Kazuha asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she once more turned on her heel, turning towards the men who had been foolhardy enough to attack her. It was true, what he said- their manner of dress was rather haphazard and worn, as if perhaps this was their only change of clothes. “For what reason?”

“Taxes, of course.” Heiji said simply, coming to stand by her side. “I hear the lord in these parts is rather infamous fer havin’ high ones. Just cause yer old man’s fair ta those he looks after, doesn’t mean that the rest of that lot are. Isn’t that right, ya lot?”

In unison, the three men gave a quick nod to his words, all but confirming his theory. Glancing over towards Kazuha, Heiji gave her a somewhat easy grin, one that only grew as she returned it with something of a sour look. “Come on now, ya know that I know all about that sort of thing, s’ why I got myself into so much trouble in the first place. Why don’t ya spare ‘em this time, Princess? I’m sure they regret their actions, an’ from the looks of it, they didn’t really seem ta do all that fightin’ back.”

For a long moment, she seemed to consider his words, before she finally released a sigh. “I suppose if these men were simply driven to desperation by such an unfair practice, I cannot entirely say that their actions were unreasonable. However,” her voice cracking loud and sharp like a whip, she fixed her gaze on the three men, that alone being enough to send a chill down their spines, “…if they should repeat such actions again, they should be aware that others might not be as forgiving as I am.”

“What part of ya is forgivin’?” Heiji couldn’t help but quip- only to find that it was now his turn to flinch at her scathing glare. “It’s only just a joke, relax a little!”

“It is because of things like that, that the palace servants keep saying you fail to understand your place.” Kazuha couldn’t help but observe. At the kind smile that spread out on her face, melting her stern expression away, Heiji had to force himself to look away- least feelings that he knew he was not supposed to have for her were to rise in his chest. “But that is part of what I like about you, Heiji.”

“Well, I should hope so!” Masking the beating of his own heart with a broad, cheerful grin, Heiji folded his arms in front of his chest. “If I fall out of yer favor, they’ll probably be sendin’ me right back ta the gallows, after all. I can’t have that!”

Ah, saying that had been a mistake. He’d realized that almost as soon as he had blurted it out, and quickly found himself cursing his foolishness for saying such a thing. The tight, drawn expression on her face was proof enough as that, the smile of hers that he had come to love vanishing from her face without so much of a trace.

Of course she would react like that. Among those who chattered behind her backs about her choice of bodyguard, he knew that there were plenty who spoke of him as something of a childish whim. That the moment that he fell out of her favor, he would return right back to where he had been when she had saved him- in line for the chopping block.

Truth be told, he still didn’t fully understand why she had gone so far for him, considering that the two of them had only briefly met before that. But he knew that for Kazuha, this was no mere whim on her part- she was serious when she claimed that she would employ him as her own bodyguard, and that any of those who wanted to take up a claim against him would have to do so in the face of her father.

Really, what a headstrong princess. They were alike, in that manner- always the type who didn’t listen to those around them, so long as they were certain that they were doing what was correct. Had he her status, he probably would not have found himself in the position that he had back then, three years ago- but it was obvious that people would take the words of a princess over those of someone without so much as even a past to his name.

“W-well, anyways, ya heard the Princess here.” Deciding it was best to change the topic, Heiji took a step forward, addressing the three would-be bandits. “I’d reckon ya should remove yerselves from her sight, before she decides ta change her mind.”

“Wait one moment!” Her voice cracking out in such a way that only that of a noble’s could, Kazuha took a step forward, carefully gazing at the men, her eyes studying their features. For a moment, it almost did seem as if she was going to change her mind- before a warm smile surfaced on her face, and she reached into her inner robe, pulling out a small pouch she had hidden there. “Before you go, take this with you.”

“Are ya sure?” Heiji asked, quirking a brow. “Ya don’t have ta go that far.”

“I am quite sure.” Kazuha said simply, placing the pouch in the hand of the nearest man, pulling back her hands before he could attempt to give it back to her. “I have more than enough money to spare, a luxury which these men clearly do not have. What use are nobles if we cannot even take care of the people that we are tasked to look after?”

Unable to help himself, Heiji felt a bright smile cross his face at her words. Really, this princess sure was a handful- not only was she headstrong and stubborn, but she was also filled with ideas that a young lady of her status probably shouldn’t have- at the very least, not according to her fellow nobles.

She was the kind of woman who didn’t care what others thought about her, and would instead march straight ahead if she knew what she was doing was right, regardless of anyone else fell into step behind her. That might have been how it was in the past, before they had met each other- but now, she would always have someone following behind her, as if they were the shadow to her bright light.

She might be a right hellion of a princess, but she was his princess.

“Ya know, it’s not yer job ta do this.”

Most times, the role that he had found himself carrying was a simple one. The princess that he was tasked with watching was more than capable of taking care of herself, leaving very little in the way for him to do, as much trouble as she could find for herself. That was how things were most of the time.

This, however, was not one of those times.

“You got this injury because of me, I would say that makes this very much my job.” There was a stubborn tone to her voice that made it abundantly clear that she would accept no arguments. If there was blood staining her elegant kimono, then she paid it very little mind. The cleaning of it wasn’t nearly so pressing a need as was the treating of Heiji’s wound, as nonchalant as he was trying to act about the whole thing.

It wasn’t a very deep gash, after all- he’d taken worse than this and lived. There could have been a better location for it, he supposed, not pleased with the way that it fell over the long healed burns on his upper chest, something which made the cleaning of it a rather bothersome thing. The burns themselves weren’t something that bothered him much anymore- they had happened a long time ago, back when he had still merely been a child.

There had been a fire, which was about all that he could remember- in fact, he remembered very little, if next to nothing from his own childhood. That too, had ceased to bother him as the years passed. If there had been anyone looking for him, they would have likely found him by now.

“Need I remind ya that it’s my job ta look after ya, Princess?” Heiji pointed out, merely arching a brow- but his rather nonchalant facade melted away the moment she pressed the wet rag against his chest. Letting out a rather sharp hiss as it stung, he averted his gaze from her, trying to act as if he hadn’t just made such a sound. “Just look over there, yer givin’ the one who is actually supposed ta be doin’ this a near conniption.”

“Pay him no mind.” There was a command in that, slight though it was, to which Heiji merely found himself rolling his eyes. He’d spent a significant portion of his life ignoring the orders of nobles, and he wasn’t exactly about to start now- even if the one issuing it had saved his life.

He’d saved her life a few times since then, so as far as he was concerned, that made them more than even. This reckless, headstrong princess who would charge forward no matter what the situation was, found herself in her fair share of danger- but that which she could get out of herself, and that which she couldn’t. That night’s trouble, had fallen very squarely in the latter category, and he shuddered to think what would happen if he had arrived even just a moment later.

He couldn’t claim that a knack for finding trouble wasn’t a trait that they both shared- nor was reckless, headstrong behavior. Kazuha would claim that it was destiny that had brought them together- to which Heiji could only laugh off, knowing that there was no such thing.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” Kazuha began, withdrawing the cloth that she had been using to clean the gash on his chest, once white rag now stained red. “It has already ceased bleeding. If it had been any deeper, we would have had need of someone to stitch you up. Perhaps next time, you will remember to actually bring your sword with you.”

“I found one when I got there!” Heiji protested. “Besides, I seem ta remember that you were the one who charged in there, even knowin’ that old man wasn’t on good terms with yer father. Ya might have been right, an’ ya might have shown up just in time ta save that kid’s father, but ya could have at least waited fer me.”

“He did nothing wrong.” Kazuha insisted, almost puffing out his cheeks. “The accusations levied against him were false, you said that much yourself! I just… did not expect them to be trying to cover for their master’s own crime by accusing him. Nor that they would attempt to go so far as to silence me in order to protect him.”

“Or that they would…”

Judging from the expression that crossed her face as she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, Heiji knew that her thoughts were dwelling on what that man had said to her back then. Namely about who he was planning on pinning the blame on for her would-be murder. Her rescue and subsequent employment of him had raised more than a few eyebrows amongst the noble folk, and there were any number of nobles who expected that it was only a matter of time before he turned the very sword that he had vowed to protect her with on her.

A ridiculous claim, really. He’d certainly caused a fair bit of trouble in the past- but it wasn’t as if he was a murderer. It was true that he had a knack for running into dead bodies, perhaps because he had escaped death once himself- but he had very little to do with the actual creation of them.

“Don’t tell me yer worryin’ about somethin’ like that!” With a bright smile, Heiji reached out, lightly ruffling her hair. The elaborate hairstyle it had been placed in that morning had long since fallen into disarray, so it wasn’t as if it much mattered at this point. “Somethin’ that small doesn’t matter. Besides, ya know there’s no way that I would let anythin’ happen ta ya, Princess, troublesome as ya are.”

It was probably for the best that there was no one around but the doctor at the moment, who gawked, open-mouthed, at what he surely construed as a rude gesture to someone far beyond his own station. He’d never been much of one to care for such things, though- and he sensed that perhaps that, in part, was a bit of the reason as to why Kazuha liked him. Her role- and the duty that she would one day have to carry out- were things that she chafed at. Even with a father who was almost notorious for not restricting her freedoms, there were still things that she simply could not do.

To have someone in her life that willingly ignored such things, and just simply treated her as another human being, was something that she clearly cherished.

“I do not think you did anything wrong either.” Kazuha noted, lowering her head, so that he wouldn’t see the faint shade of red that her cheeks had turned at his touch. Besides, if she looked upon that blinding smile for much longer, she was sure to feel things that she knew she was not allowed to feel. “You were only doing what was right.”

“I mean, I did maybe, accidentally incite a small rebellion.” Heiji pointed out, his grin only growing. “That’s unquestionably a thing that happened. An’ well… some other stuff too. Turns out there’s a fair number of people out there who don’t really like it when ya speak the truth.”

“I quite like it myself.” Kazuha noted, drawing in a long breath, before she reached up, brushing his hand off of her head. “Come now, let me finish treating you. We still have to present ourselves in front of father to explain this whole ordeal, and I cannot have you bleeding out in front of him while doing so.”

“Yes, yes.” Dropping his hand to his side, Heiji watched as she busied herself, gathering up the cloth that would be used for bandages. “As my princess commands.”

#detective conan #hattori heiji #toyama kazuha #i will fully admit that i did not do much research for this but it is only a mere oneshot #anyways like hell kazuha would ever become the damsel in distress type of princess #as usual i came up with an unnecessary amount of backstory for this simple oneshot au #anonymous #asks

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the-record-columns · 5 years

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July 17, 2019: Columns

Willa Mae Lankford, this one’s for you…

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Note: The Record’s Editor, Jerry Lankford, was blessed with a mother who was one of the kindest souls I ever knew. Willa Mae Lankford would have been unknown to me except for Jerry, and I thank him often for allowing me to get to know this wonderful lady. Willa Mae was a faithful reader of my column and would often call me with a kind word or a comment, but no column I ever wrote made her laugh and reminisce like the one which follows today — my Fourth of July Mother-in-Law from Hell column. Thank you Willa Mae, I miss you.

During the Fourth of July week, and, for most of my adult life, this story has come to mind around this time of year. Well, truth is, it hits me at other selected moments, too.

This event took place nearly 50 years ago, during my association with the family of my first wife, Debbie - the Hamby’s of Purlear.

Her father’s name was Albert and, as you might imagine, through the years I got to know his brothers. Among them were Woodrow, Chelsie, and Grady, the preacher.

It was a long-standing tradition in the Hamby family to have a big picnic on the Fourth of July. The Fourth was a special holiday to those Hamby brothers. Albert was a veteran of World War II who had fought on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. He and his brothers served their country proudly. They knew all too well the price of freedom, and never took it for granted.

The two Hamby brothers I remember best from those days are Woodrow and Grady. Woodrow was a big man who enjoyed life to the fullest. He always had a smile on his face and something of a twinkle in his eye. He also had a thick head of beautiful wavy, silver hair - with a matching silver mustache. I used to say if I had to have gray hair, I would hope it could be just like Woodrow Hamby’s.

In those days, Woodrow worked for James Richardson at the Foster-Richardson Rest Home on 421. I’m not sure what Woodrow’s job there was, but I feel comfortable saying he wasn’t the chaplain.

Grady Hamby, on the other hand, was indeed a chaplain, theologian, preacher, minister, and an all around righteous guy. It usually didn’t take him long to tell you about it, either. Grady lived away somewhere, and it was always something of an event when he returned to Wilkes County.

At least, it was to him

Well, on this particular Fourth of July, the Hambys, along with assorted in-laws, outlaws, and hangers-on, gathered for the annual picnic. The food was, as always, wonderful. Stony Hill Baptist Church-wonderful, in fact. The only real exception where the food was concerned, was that of my mother-in-law, Shirley Jean Ina Marie. She was forever trying to repackage some of Colonel Sander’s chicken, or a frozen pie, as her own.

The picnic was held under a shelter, with the food on one end and tables on the other. On the end with the food stood Uncle Woodrow, sweating profusely as he tended hamburgers and hot dogs on a charcoal grill. You could smell charcoal lighter fluid all the way from Purlear to Big Ivy. At the other end of the shelter was the Reverend Grady - expounding, pontificating and, in general, holding court as only he could. Truly, Uncle Grady loved the sound of his own voice.

Everyone was getting pretty hungry, so the oldest brother, Chelsie, called the gathering to order. After a greeting, and after recognizing his wife, Mae, as the best cook on the premises, Chelsie asked his brother, Grady, to return thanks.

Grady was proud to oblige.

He grabbed onto one of the poles, which held up the shelter, leaned back and began to do what appeared to be squat thrusts. I thought he was warming up for a marathon run, or was getting ready to work out.

I guess in a way, he was.

After loosening up for a while, Grady began to pray. Now folks, I have been to a lot of reunions and homecomings, and I have heard a lot of blessings, but this one capped the stack. Uncle Grady went way past being thankful for the food and a safe journey, and quickly moved on to conditions in the state, the nation, and the world.

All the while that Grady prayed, Woodrow stood silently puffing and sweating over the hot dogs.

Grady continued the blessing; clearly planning to leave no stone unturned. Before we knew it, he had eased seamlessly into something of a sermon and had several of Debbie’s cousins squirming.

About that time, the fire blazed back up and Woodrow could wait no longer.

“Wind it up, Grady!” Woodrow barked, “My weenies are burning!”

There was a thunderous silence, broken only by my uncontrollable laughing, and a soft “Amen” from Uncle Grady.

The weenies were saved, but Woodrow and I were not.

My mother-in-law never forgave either of us.

Encourage our Israeli friends

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

July/August 2019 marks thirteen years since the month long 2nd Lebanon War. Ehud Olmert was Prime Minister. George W. Bush was US President. Kofi Annan led the United Nations. The Iron Dome was not yet operational. Those leaders have changed, the Iron Dome is now a superstar, but Iran’s terrorist Hezbollah leader Nasrallah remains. Although threats have increased with missiles and tunnels, Christian support for Israel has multiplied, too.

Often folks ask what can be done to encourage the people of Israel and how Christians can play a role. While everyone has a different mission, here’s one example of how The Lord led a group of Christians back in 2006.

A few days after the Second Lebanon War, I placed a call to my executive assistant and began by saying, “Arlene, I think the Lord wants us to go to Israel as soon as possible.” Her surprised response was, ”Earl, why would we go now?” Aside from feeling pressed by The Lord to make the trip, the thought which came to mind was, “When friends are in crisis, true friends go and stand with them.” A full-force organizational whirlwind began and in 7 days Arlene, along with my wife, Kathleen, recruited 25 Christians to journey with us to Israel. Some did not even have passports but they signed up on faith and God made a way for passports to be processed almost overnight. When asked about our agenda, Arlene succinctly put it in four words: ENCOURAGE OUR ISRAELI FRIENDS.

The trip was a working solidarity mission rather than a classic Biblical tour. We set our schedule day by day as we had no time to map out a plan. For several years prior, God had been opening doors for me to senior ranking Israeli officials. This proved invaluable as I reached out to these contacts to schedule visits and briefings. Our group traveled to Haifa where the mayor welcomed us to his city with a briefing and refreshments at Haifa’s municipal building. He spoke about the harmonious history between Arabs and Jews in Haifa and how “the Hezbollah War is hurting all people in the city.”

Officials at Rambam Hospital then welcomed us with a briefing and allowed us to visit civilians and IDF soldiers alike. We walked from room to room leaving smiles, encouragement, and prayers behind. We learned that Rambam Hospital is staffed by skillful Jewish and Arab doctors alike who treat everyone who comes through the doors of the gleaming, state of the art facility. At Rambam, we also visited their bomb shelter teeming with 75-100 children including those of the hospital staff. Beforehand, we managed to run into a store and buy some toys to distribute. With their children nearby, the Rambam staff could continue treating the war-wounded patients with the assurance that their own children were safe.

On another day, we rolled into Tiberias only to find a “ghost-town’ in the usually bustling tourist destination loved by Christians worldwide and where Jesus spent so much time. The few people we encountered were business owners and security personnel. We finally found an open restaurant and when several employees saw us walk in, they treated us like celebrities. Tears filled their eyes and expressions of surprise and gratitude came pouring out. Even the mayor came to welcome us. Everywhere we went our message was clear and simple. “We are Christians from the United States. We are friends who are here to stand with you.”

We traveled north again to Rosh Pina where arrangements were made for an IDF spokesman to brief us. During his talk the “red alert” air raid sirens began blaring warnings of incoming rockets forcing the group into bomb shelters. A Katyusha rocket fell nearby causing the ground to actually quake. The IDF Colonel expressed the value Israelis place on human life saying, “I’m sad and concerned to see innocents killed. To protect ourselves against Hezbollah is very complex. Hezbollah recruits poor people by promising to make them strong and happy. Now they are human shields. Israel wants peace. Not one Israeli is happy about war but Hezbollah is happy when there’s a missile strike and overjoyed when Israelis are killed or wounded. Now Hezbollah is a military monster and it’s impossible to have a clean war. To extract cancer, we must open it.”

In Rosh Pina, everyone in our group faced a serious decision. The Lord pressed upon me to go further north to the front lines to encourage the men and women of the IDF standing ready with tanks and awaiting orders. I asked the group to pray before making a choice - go to the front lines, or return to Jerusalem. Half decided to go to the front lines while the rest traveled south to Jerusalem with a mandate to remain at the Western Wall to pray for our friends, IDF, and all Israelis. Our team made it to the front lines due to hiring a brave driver. Imagine the IDF soldiers’ shock to see American civilians there! Honestly, we looked like typical American tourists wearing shorts and hats with cameras around the necks of many. Tank battalions were lined up single file along the side of the road. We stopped so that the team could walk up and down the lines, giving out small American flags on sticks, shaking hands, offering prayers for safety, and words of comfort. I’m sure some of those soldiers are still talking about those crazy Christians. We spent the night in a hotel where the world’s major media were also camped out. No one really slept as bombs fell most of the night rattling the windows. The next day we boarded the van making our descent on curvy roads. We were the only vehicle (outside of IDF tanks) traveling these roads as Katyusha rockets landed on either side for miles. It’s a mystery to me how we were permitted to travel this road and even more of a mystery that we had a willing driver (who, by the way, was very well paid).

Finally, we reunited with the part of our team which stayed and prayed for us in Jerusalem. But, our mission was not over. War impacts everyone. Not just those on the front lines. Next stop was a senior citizens home in Jerusalem where elderly people sat waiting out the war, praying for their grandchildren in the IDF and IAF. All had been evacuated from the north.

We hugged the elderly men and women and grasped their hands. While hugs, smiles and hand-holding are universally understood, through a translator we shared our message of friendship. Tears puddled in their eyes and we later heard their message back to us: “We are one.” And that is exactly the message we wanted to communicate.”

While the media didn’t report the displacement of Israelis, over a third were either in bomb shelters, evacuated south or left Israel altogether. Needless to say, tourists were not flocking to Israel at that time. Therefore, even when we rode the buses in Jerusalem, we made it a point to announce, “We are American Christians here to encourage you and let you know that we are your friends. You are not alone!” For many, this was a positive turning point in Christian-Jewish relations.

Two days before we were scheduled to fly back to the United States, we made a decision to visit Magen David Adom in Jerusalem to donate blood. As you can imagine, there was a blood shortage. When the staff saw 25 of us walk in, they were initially very surprised and then extremely grateful. Never had they experienced so many American Christians wanting to give blood at the same time. For them it was a surreal moment. To us, it was a privilege. Giving blood seemed like such a natural thing to do but one that spoke loudly in terms of the love for Israel we wanted to express. Thank God for the help of the bi-lingual nurses as all the required forms were in Hebrew.

As it was then, so it remains today. Arabs and Jews are under constant threat from terrorists in Lebanon and surrounding countries. God’s heart, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, loves ALL people but HE has a special place and profound role in history for the apple of HIS eye, the Jewish community and the land of Israel - their ancestral homeland.

If you are planning a trip to Israel, and I hope you are, ask God how HE would have you to bring love and encouragement to HIS people. Just be open and obedient to HIS reply. I know the 25 “crazy Christians” who embarked on this journey with me back in 2006 had a major impact on all those whom we encountered. Now, 13 years later, there is still more to be done. Please remember to pray daily for the peace of Jerusalem and for all of Israel.

Christmas in July

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolina

West Jefferson is situated for a lot of enjoyment.

It’s a nice drive up the mountain and it’s cooler than the lower elevations. The people are friendly and if you enjoy quaint walkable sidewalks with a good amount of public art, you are likely to enjoy your visit.

Several years ago, we visited the Christmas in July festival. It was a great event. I recall that was when we had our first interview with well know musician and acoustic instrument luthier Wayne Henderson. We have enjoyed our visits with Wayne over the years and have a great appreciation for his work and encouragement for talented young musicians.

This year, I visited the 33rd Annual Christmas in July Festival on Friday. The weather was comfortable, and the diverse music seemed to be enjoyable for all those in attendance. After the presentation of the Color Guard and the singing of the National Anthem, muskets were fired. It was a respectable blending of patriotism and heritage, honoring the past and those who have and do serve.

There was much excitement when the honored guest showed up. Mr. and Mrs. Claus arrived on a vintage fire truck and made their way to the stage area. Everyone seemed pleased with the greetings from the jolly couple. With a few words from Santa, Christmas in July official kicked off. The food vendors were busy, and the music went on for hours. It was a comfortable feeling of old and new friends getting together.

I had the opportunity to talk with good number of people and enjoyed greeting several dogs who were also in attendance with their humans. I had a nice chat with Jeff Martin from Jefferson who is now in his mid-20’s. He shared stories of his youth, when his family visited Christmas in July. At that time the event was held on Main Street. His family attended every year and he recalled how much fun he and his siblings had visiting all the vendors and playing games. With only smiles he shared these memories and said it was a special time.

When I meet younger people who are excited about their local and hometown festivals, it’s reassuring that these events will have a future.

The West Jefferson Christmas in July Festival is administered, produced and entirely worked by volunteers. It’s a labor of love that celebrates mountain culture, heritage and traditions and it all started to celebrate the Christmas Tree industry. Ashe County is ranked among the top areas for Christmas Tree growers in the United States and the area has sent its share of Christmas trees to the White House.

What a wonderful way for volunteers to honor the Carolinas and celebrate their hometown. I hope that the same spark of excitement and purpose that inspires current volunteers will also inspire younger volunteers. We understand it’s a lot of work and commitment. However, when you go to bed with aching feet and a sore back the night the event is over, you know that you have had a part of something very special.

All the smiles, laughs, chicken on a stick, pictures and good times are in part because of YOU. It’s a wonderful thing when we celebrate life together and, in the Carolinas, we have many great opportunities to do so.

One thing is for sure, if you enjoy a nice mid-year visit with the man in red, he certainly has a vested interest in showing up at a Christmas in July Festival in a place that is a national leader in growing Christmas Trees.

See you in West Jefferson friends.

Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at [email protected]

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krissysbookshelf · 7 years

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