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just-some-random-blogger · 10 months

Note

riding aemond's magnum dong and "innocently" overstimming him also counts as taming and riding the largest dragon in the world and no one can say otherwise: a fic request ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

pretty pleaseeee mommy ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) *gives you many smooches as bribe*

Stop But Please Don't

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You help your husband relax after a long and irritating day.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, smut MDNI (pwp, oral [m receiving], over-stim, biting, public sex?, brat!reader?, accidental sub!aemond), otto 'yall burning in hell' hightower, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is PWP soooooo dont read it if it makes you uncomfy. NONNIE i hope you still see this its been so long. i love you 💕💕 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @lxdyred @delicious-xx

I clasp my hands together, "there's nothing more I can do for you."

The woman before me pulls her head back. If she was hiding her vexation well up until this point, then now, she was not. Celia's face contorts. She grips her skirt and barks my name out.

I release a breath, "I have been most gracious in-"

She scoffs, "you have NOT! I cannot bel-"

"The guards will see you out, Lady Tully."

"Don't you call me that!" she snaps, finger pointed at me accusingly.

I raise my brows. That's your name, is it not? I turn to my guard. He nods and comes up to the woman and escorts her out. She tries to storm over to me, but when her arm is caught and she's reeled to the door, she changes tune, "wait, wait. Hold on. I must- please Lady-"

"I am not a lady," I shake my head, "I am a princess."

Celia whimpers.

I watch as the guard tells her not to make it difficult.

"Your grace! Wait, I-"

The door shuts.

I let out a breath and clutch my side. My poor Aemond. I cannot imagine going through this everyday.

When my guard returns to inform me Lady Tully has been escorted out of the Keep, I thank him and head off to the library. Once there, I am immediately hurtled with a threat to leave or to have my throat slit.

I find a small tinge of amusement crawl up to my cheeks but I take care not to laugh, "many pardons, my prince-"

Aemond, brows knit, jaw clenched, lifts his gaze from his papers.

"- but I feel your punishment," I walk over to him, hands behind my back, "is far too dire."

Aemond immediately huffs and shuts his eye as he leans back on his chair. He clenches his fists and parts his legs. And though he does not look at me while doing this, I knew it was an invitation. It was affirmed with how his hands latched on to my waist after I gathered my skirts and claimed my seat atop his lap.

"Will you still use your dagger on me, husband?" I mutter while my arm snaked over his shoulders.

He leans his forehead on me, "if you'd like."

I chuckle through my nose as he rubs his face against my jaw.

"I'd like to make you feel better, my dragon," I lean back, clutching his chin.

"I have much to do, wife," he complains.

"I know you've been at it since dawn. Will you not spare yourself a break? If not for yourself, for me?"

Aemond opens his eye and purses his lips. He does not respond, save for the way he leans into my touch.

"Lady Tully was here. She thought she could persuade me to amend the order you gave her husband."

His brows tighten all over again.

"I told her I trust the prince's judgement with my life, and his decision regarding the affairs of her husband was borne out of nothing but sense and logic."

He lets out a chuckle.

I raise a brow at that.

"And spite, and irritation," he sinks deeper into his seat.

I tilt my head, "you didn't."

He rubs my side, "I adore that you think so highly of me."

"You made the Tullys submit more resources than needed because of spite and irritation?"

"Because it's only fair that the backstabbing Tullys pay for the wrongs they've done my wife."

I am unable to hold in my chuckle, "Aemond, we've been wed for two years."

"Mmm and I assure you," he mumbles through a pout, "I've only thought of this for one."

I laugh, "you've been thinking of a way to spite my childhood friend, who I've not spoken to longer than we've been wed, for stealing my childhood sweetheart?"

Aemond simply keeps his lips pouted.

"And does that make sense to you, jester?" I let out an amused breath "What did you wish to achieve? Were you hoping I rekindle the flame with Elmo Tully?"

He groans and straightens up, "I was hoping you see your prince is willing to do many and much for his princess."

I huff and shake my head. He adjusts me on his lap and draws me closer. I cannot help the way my lips curve upward, "and, let me guess, you hope to be rewarded for his?"

I retrace the scar on his cheek. He gives a proud look, "it's only fair."

I roll my eyes and sigh, "very well." I pull away and stand before him, "undo your trousers."

Aemond wastes no time and immediately begins to undo his trousers. In return, I then get on my knees and rest my arms on his lap. I lean my cheek on my elbow as I watch his fingers work.

Once he was free, I swat his hands away and take his length in my hand. He is warm and soft but that was about to change.

Aemond curses as he draws out a deep breath. I look up at him as I shift on my knees, "will you be an obedient dragon for me, love?"

He does not respond. I catch the way his jaw clenches. I tighten my grip on him.

He takes my jaw in his hand, "you are rewarding me for being a dutiful groom," he replies, "be a dutiful bride."

I pull away when he tries to bring me close to his hardening cock. I tilt my head up and ghost my thumb on his tip, "no. I won't be doing that."

"Well, I will not be begging for what I am owed," he quickly huffs.

I blink at his words and quickly lick him, "yes you will."

Aemond growls. The next moment, his hand tightens over mine and he yanks me by my hair. Before he can shove himself into my mouth, there is a knock on the door that causes both of us to freeze, and though Aemond screams an even dire threat, making Vhagar sit on whoever it was, whoever it was walked in anyway.

My heart pounds when I hear the deep voice of his grandsire. Aemond pushes me under the table.

"Your mother is in hysterics," Otto rants, "Aegon has blundered with the fucking-"

"I'm busy right now," Aemond snaps, hands not letting up their grip.

Otto is astounded by the sheer disrespect. He stares at the boy across him and steps forward, "what?"

Aemond shifts on his seat. His hands depart from me. He waves to his desk, "I'm balancing the accounts, grandsire."

I bite my lip at the evidently displeased sound Otto makes, feeling my body grow rigid with dread. I look over my shoulder and wonder if I should pretend I dropped something and quickly stand, but then I realize there was quite a lot of objects blocking me from Lord Hightower. I look up at Aemond and the devil whispers in my ear. I find myself wrapping my lips around him.

Aemond visibly gulps as Otto shifts on his spot and says, "do you think the fucking accounts of the Keep matter if your brother destroys everything I've put in place?"

Aemond is about to respond but he doesn't when I sink down on him. I take care not to make a sound as bob up and down. He clenches the arm rest, nails digging into the wood. He releases a shaky breath, "no."

Otto narrows his eyes. He raises his voice, "what, boy?"

I swirl my tongue around him.

He tenses.

I gently graze my teeth around him.

He holds back a whimper and says a bit too loudly, "no, my lord!"

Otto is satisfied.

He begins to drone about what he expects Aemond to do. I hear him begin to pace around.

The next moment, I nearly choke when Aemond pushes forward. The chair skids, as does the table when he drags it closer. Otto goes silent. Aemond mutters in an impressively steady manner, "I'm writing it down, grandsire."

It takes a moment for him to reply, "very good."

And so for a few minutes, he walks and talks, meticulously explaining what his grandson ought to do, all while I was beginning to drool so much that my hand was getting sticky as I pumped him.

Aemond flinches at some point. He's unable to mask his sounds. Otto goes silent again, and once more, my husband impresses with a save, "f-fucking Aegon."

Otto releases a breath, as if agreeing, "I am counting on you to do this, Aemond."

He inhales deeply then sighs, "yes."

The man nods then heads for the door, "I will have a horse ready for you."

Aemond hums.

The moment the door closes, I pull away and crawl out, panting as I did so. Aemond finally releases a sound and I watch the heaving of his chest. I cannot help but chuckle. I push his chair back and take his chin in my fingers, "what a good boy you were."

He turns to me, still too relieved to not have been caught to say a word.

"How sweet and silent," I rub his lips with my thumb as I hike my skirt up.

Whatever he meant to say gets lost in his throat when I pull my smallclothes off and climb on his lap. I sigh as I sink down on him. He muffles his sounds by biting his lips.

I click my tongue and shake my head. My hands latch on his firm shoulders as I begin to slowly move, "don't be shy, whimper for me."

"Fuck," his hands grab my waist. His nostrils flare, "I'm not going to last--"

"Shhhh," I press a finger to his lips, "I said whimper, not whine."

Aemond lets out a guttural sound as his head falls onto my décolletage. He pants onto my skin as I pick up the pace.

I kiss his head, "peak if you must, my love."

He pulls me flush against him and drops his head back. He breathes through his open mouth and makes the loveliest sounds.

The corner of my lips pull up in amusement, "such a sweet thing."

He groans my name, a warning of his impending climax.

I gently push two fingers into his mouth. Aemond obediently wraps his lips around them, "do you want to finish inside, darling?"

He nods his head and swirls his tongue around my fingers.

"Then you have to let me use you until I peak also."

Aemond's eye widens.

I pull my fingers out of his mouth. I stop bouncing on him. He whines again.

"What was that, pretty love?" I coo as I tuck hair behind his ear.

He clenches his jaw and looks away, debating my words. When he takes too long, I clench around him and move once.

"Mmm, fuck- fine," he tightens his hold on my hips, "fine, fine, use me how you want."

"Are you certain, darling?" I buck my hips.

He sighs heavily, "yes. Yes, please."

I begin to pepper kisses all over his face and move once more. I begin to draw circles on my nub, "what a sweetheart."

Aemond feels his body flush. He releases a strangled breath, closes his eyes, and pulls me into an embrace.

As my movements hasten, I look down on him and cup his cheek. My stomach rolls when I see how red his face has become. I moan, "do you like my praises, darling boy?"

"Fuck-" his arms tighten around me.

"Like it when I tell you how good you are while making you feel good?"

He lets out the shakiest yes I've ever heard. He drools out, "w-anna be good t-to you."

I squeal, "you are."

Aemond breaks into a groan after. He spills into curse words and moans. I feel him pulsing and panting. He cages me in his arms so tight I can barely move or breathe. I whimper as I let him ride out his high.

"That's right," I kiss his temple, "such a dear, my loveling."

Eventually, his grip loosens and he begins to quiver.

"Shh, shh, shh," I soothe, "a little bit more," I continue to attend to my sensitive spot and building high, "you can take a little bit more, can you not?"

He whines, "n- nn- fuck."

I trail kisses up his neck and cheek, "come on, Aemond. Just a bit more."

Aemond feels a tension build in his loins, a paralyzing kind. He leans his head back in defeat and brings his hands under my skirt. He grips my thighs for dear life and speaks my name as a plea.

"I know, my dragon," kiss his forehead, "I'm almost there. Mmm, just k-keep doing that."

Aemond butts into my shoulder then begins to bite into my skin. His teeth sink quite hard, and yet I do not find myself to care as it helps push me further into the edge.

He tightens his grip on me when I begin to grow erratic.

My finger scratch into his nape.

"P-please, fuck- please." Aemond begs. He feels tears lace his lashes as he screws his eyes shut.

I do not respond as I am too busy trying to lose myself. And when I finally come undone, I am unsure which of us is more relieved.

I feel my husband scratch my thighs as I stretch out the blissful eruption that spreads through me. I call out his name as draw out allt the pleasure I can get. Once I'm done, he curses and relaxes against the chair. I slowly melt on him and catch my breath against his ear. I nip his lobe and kiss him, "an excellent job, my dutiful husband."

He grumbles and huffs.

The next moment, he's pushing me off him.

I whine and wrap myself on him, "no!"

"Who's whining now?"

"A few minutes, please!"

"No," he snaps, hands going back to my waist to pry me off, "you heard my grandsire. I must remedy the insolence of my dimwitted brother."

"But I love you," I nuzzle in his neck.

"Well, I don't."

I tighten my hold on him when he says this and does not relent. I manage to pull back and throw him a glare.

Aemond sighs and ceases repelling me.

"Take that back," I warn.

He presses his lips together.

"Don't bully me, sweet boy," I mimic his expression but bat my lashes too.

He makes another sound and rolls his eyes.

"Tell me you love me!"

"I don't."

"Aemo-"

"I love you very much."

"..."

My expression melts into disbelief.

A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips.

I promptly begin to pull away, "well, that was rather repulsive."

"Oh," he barks in offense and prevents me from getting off him, "when I do it, it's repulsive?!"

I shove him by his chest, "that's because you don't say things like that."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to s-"

We whip our heads back when the door opens and Otto Hightower walks in.

#aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you

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spooky-bunnys · 11 months

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Nobody knew why Hanma had been so happy recently. Not even Kisaki knew, which was a surprise to everyone. Cause if anyone would know, it'd been Kisaki.

Many tried asking, but they would just be ignored. It wasn't until about 2 weeks later did they find out, when Toman was watching the news. Nobody was really paying attention to it at first. Not until someone mentioned that Hanma was on the news.

"Holy shit! Is that Hanma!?" Everyone quickly turned to the the television. It in fact was Hanma. He was holding hands with a celebrity apparently. "Wait...is he holding hands with that new singer! Holy shit. Kisaki isn't gonna be happy about this."

Kisaki was not happy about it. Once he was informed that Hamna had been on the news. He was angry. Hanma was a upper members of Toman...and he got caught with a celebrity?! Oh Kisaki was gonna tear him a new one.

But the worst was what the news, hadn't informed them. It was almost 2 weeks before Toman saw Hanma again. They were angry considering he hadn't asked to have the time taken off. At least that's what they thought.

"Oi! Hanma where the fuck have you been? You've been all over the place, considering you were caught with the famous singer, (Last Name) (Name)!" Hanma grinned widely. "Hanma." That confused everyone.

"What?" "His name is Hanma (Name). We just got back from our Honeymoon~" That had sent an uproar in Toman. "Wait! Your telling me, you got married to a celebrity?!"

Kisaki was more then upset now. "Hanma how fucking stupid are you! You can't be in Toman and be married to a celebrity!" Hanma nodded. He knew this already that's why he planned ahead.

Hanma dropped a file on Kisaki's desk. "What's this?" Before Kisaki could even open the file Hanma spoke. "My notice." Kisaki froze. Hanma's notice? He quickly opened the file. It was. Hanma was leaving Toman. "W-What?"

Kisaki couldn't believe this! "You're leaving Toman! For some guy?!" Hanma slammed his hands on the desk, startling the other. "That guy happens to be my husband now. He knows what I did and chose to still love me even after everything."

Hanma voice was filled with venom. His glare made Kisaki uncomfortable. He'd never been on the reviving end of the famous reaper glare. "Why him then? Why now of all times?" Kisaki asked in a quiet voice. He didn't understand what was going on.

His most trusted man was leaving. Hanma gave a deep sigh. "(Name) is pregnant and it's mine. We've been talking about getting married, but when we found out about his pregnancy. We got married the next day."

The room got cold. "I don't want anything to happen to him or my unborn child. So I'm leaving while I still can." This didn't make any sense. Hanma doesn't so anything unless he get the entertainment he wants.

"I know what your thinking Tetta. But I have a family now. I'm not gonna let you, or anyone do anything to them. And if you try anything?" Kisaki slowly looked up. "I'll kill you so slowly that you'd wish you stayed away."

Kisaki knew he wasn't joking. Hanma slowly stood up and walked towards the door. "I've already informed Mikey. Considering (Name) is actually a Sano." Kisaki felt his world stop. A Sano? "So if something happens to him, I'm not the only person you should look out for."

After Hamna left Kisaki pulled up everything he could on (Name). It a deeply covered file was adoption papers for Sano (Name). Apparently he was Shinichiro's kid from when he was a young teen. But he didn't know about the kid till it was too late.

Kisaki stared at the screen. This wasn't part of his plan! (Name) was never meant to be there! How did he even...Kisaki laid his head on his desk. How much worse could his plan get?

#male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #hanma #hanma shuji #hanma x male reader #hanma shuji x male reader

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doe-eyed-fool · 1 month

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Fallen {Chapter Twenty Four}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

It had been about a week since that incident, I was still a little shaken from it. Though, I tried to keep my composure, and act normally. Most seem to buy it, except for two people. Angel Dust, he saw right through my act. He tried to make me feel better. Talking to me, inviting me out with him and Cherri. While I appreciated his efforts, it didn't help much. I tried to put his own worries at ease, but I wasn't much help either.

Then there was Alastor. Even if I wanted to pretend like everything was fine, it wouldn't convince him. He was patient with me and understanding. He did as I asked, and kept quiet about what he did to Liam. Though, telling from the grin on his face, he was satisfied with what he's done.

Today, Alastor had stopped by my room. He wanted to take a crack at trying to cheer me up too. But, the way he went about it was...shocking.

I answer the door, I've learned overtime that his knock pattern was different from the others. He stared down at me with a friendly(?) grin. "Good evening Y/n! How are you feeling?" He asks. I shrug. "About the same." Not great, but not terrible either. Somewhere in between. But, it wasn't a good in between. I knew that much.

"Well, that's not good." Alastor knew it too. "It's because of that, I came by. I wanted to ask you to join me this evening."

"Join you? I don't know Alastor, I'm not really in the mood to be going anywhere. I could tell I was dampening the mood, when Angel invited me out recently. I don't want to do the same with you." I tell him.

"Nonsense! You never let my spirits down! Y/n, I feel like this would be good for you. Trust me, you'll have a blast!" Alastor quickly adds. "And before you say anything, no, this evening will not involve murder or maiming of any kind."

"Then, what were you planning?" I ask him. Alastor offers his hand. "That's for you to find out." I hesitated, but took his hand anyway. "Aha! Wonderful! I assure you Y/n, you won't regret it!" He begins to walk with me, but pauses after taking another look at me. I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"I feel as if we should properly dress for the evening, shouldn't we?" He says before snapping his fingers. Suddenly, we were both wearing new outfits.

I wore a red midi dress with a black bow tied around my waist. While Alastor wore a red suit, because of course it was red.

"Perfect!" Alastor exclaims. "Alright, are you ready, dear?" He asks. "I don't think I will ever get use to sudden wardrobe changes. But yes, I am ready." Alastor chuckles at my comment before leading me out. He teleports us both, as not to draw attention from the others in hotel.

We had traveled to a upscale part of the city, anyone here clearly were proper and fairly rich. I felt so out of place, though Alastor acts as if he's been here hundreds of times. He probably has, now that I think about it.

"I say we should start the evening off with a nice meal. What do you think?" Alastor asks me. I couldn't pass up the chance for food, especially when I haven't ate all day. "That sounds fine." I tell him. Alastor leads me to a fancy looking restaurant.

He informed the host of his name and reservation, and was swiftly welcomed in. Though, I'm sure without one he'd get in. He was an overlord after all.

We were brought to our seats, and given a bottle of wine that was sat in a small bucket of ice. The host told us our waiter would be with us momentarily before excusing himself. "I know you don't drink, so I won't force you. But, if you change your mind..." Alastor says as he pours both of us a glass. "It'll be there."

"Well, it's not like I don't drink ever." I say while taking the glass. "I just, prefer not to over do it. I like to keep it light, you know?" I then took a sip. Wow. This is good. I dare not think about just how much this wine costed alone, on top of sitting down to eat here.

"Understandable." Alastor nods as he takes a sip himself. "I don't think I've gotten drunk in a while. Last time I did, I believe I found myself in a part of the pride ring I'd never been to before. Apparently, in my drunken state, I had bet quite the sum of money on a race horse...and lost."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "How much did you drink?" I ask. "Couldn't tell ya. But my pockets were hurting for a bit after that, I can say that for certain." Alastor chuckles.

"I can't even remember why I was drinking that much to begin with. But I recall Mimzy being there, and when Mimzy and I drink together...The night can take us literally anywhere. I even asked her, and she can't remember why either. But she had gotten herself into some trouble as well." He takes another swig.

"This Mimzy girl sounds like a blast." I say with a smile. "Oh, she is." Alastor chuckles. "Quite the trouble maker too. But, she's a decent woman. Me and her go way back. We were good friends when we were alive." He tells me. "We got each other out of a few sticky situations, every now and then."

"I notice your quite popular with women." I say. "You get along with them better, and it seems you only make friends with women. I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend, or a wife." Alastor shrugs. "I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority."

"Oh, I see." Something about hearing that made me a little disappointed. Not upset. But, I guess I was hoping for something? Then again, this could be a good thing. My delusions and silly emotions could finally settle. At least now, I know for sure I won't get hurt again.

Our waiter then arrived, and took our orders. As we ate, me and Alastor talked about all sorts of things. He told me a bit about his living days. How he was a popular radio host, though that was unsurprising. How he basically came from nothing made something of himself all on his own.

And being a black man in a time like that, it was more than a little difficult. But he did it, and he was damn proud of it too. He told me more stories of him and Mimzy, and from what he talked about, she was a handful. She would get herself into trouble and usually Alastor would have to help her out. But, she would always make up for it somehow.

By the end of dinner, he would take me to a jazz lounge. The relaxing atmosphere, along with a few drinks, had put me a calmer mood. While the restaurant made me a little anxious, this place was the total opposite. Jazz wasn't my most preferred music, but I still liked and appreciate it.

And as I said, it was very relaxing. I take a look around, there was a few couples in lounge, cuddled up next to each other. I smiled at the sight, but it made me a little jealous. My gaze then moved to Alastor. He was focused on the performance, so he didn't catch my stare.

Maybe it was the alcohol finally settling in, but, the lighting of the lounge made him look very handsome. And we were sitting so close, our shoulders nearly touched. My cheeks began to heat up, and I prayed he could hear my heart beating as fast as it was.

"I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority."

My heart started to settle, upon remembering those words. I turn to face the stage, feeling that same twinge of disappointment again.

After that, Alastor and I took a stroll trough the city. We didn't talk much, but it was a comfortable silence. My arm interlocked with Alastors as we walked.

The night here in Hell was different from the one on Earth. Instead of a black sky full of stars, the red sky was a cool maroon. Even the bright pentagram had dimmed down, still bright enough to light the sky, but not enough to hurt your eyes. It was like looking at the moonlight.

"Y/n?"

I looked up at Alastor. "Did you have a nice time?" He asked me. I smile and nod my head. "I did. Thank you." Alastor's grin soften, he turned his attention ahead and kept walking. As we walked, the sound of music steadily grew louder.

Ahead of us, was a street performer, who was playing a saxophone. There was a small gathering of demons who watched him play, some playing money into the saxophone case next to him. He was pretty good.

Alastor suddenly stopped walking, unhooking his arm from mine, and twirled me around. "Alastor?" I gasp slightly. "May I have this dance?" He asks, pulling me close. "I thought I told you, I can't dance." I laugh weakly.

"You did fine the last time we danced." Alastor said, beginning to move. "Don't focus on the dancing, just focus on me." I tried to do what he said, keeping my eyes on him, trying to drown out my thoughts as we danced.

I follow his lead, and like before, he was perfect. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been dancing.

I became less tense by the second, just taking it all in. The soft music in my ears, the beautiful city lights. The very same feeling I had when Alastor held me like this before...I couldn't help but smile, and finally give in. Alastor made it clear, he wasn't interested in romance. But it was a nice thought.

It was nice to pretend for a while. Just for tonight, just in this moment.

As the song slowed to an end, Alastor and I found ourselves closer than when we started. Our lips but inches away from each other's. I half expected Alastor to back away after the song finally ended.

But, he stayed put. His eyes, looking deep into my own. I swore I saw something in his, I had never seen from him before.

It was really nice to pretend...

I inwardly sighed before pulling away from him. "That was nice." I say softly. Alastor was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Yes...Yes, it was."

Tag List! @krak-jj

@martinys-world

@cherry-cola-100

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader

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fleet-of-fiction · 5 months

Text

My Truth

Allow me to introduce myself. Hi...

My name is Lucie. You might remember me from my old blog, lightmylove-gvf. It started out as a really fun, wholesome space. Full of love and laughter. I shared pictures and gif sets and works of fiction. Made so many wonderful connections with many different people. It really was a wonderful place to be. Until it wasn't. And although I've tried my best to step away from certain controversies, it seems that people still have an issue with me and still have my name in their mouth. So I'd like to take this opportunity to set the record straight. Maybe move past some untruths and you can all make informed decisions on whether you'd like to continue following me here on my current blog. Which is also a place of peace and love, I might add. And always has been.

Anyway, read on if you'd like. And if not, that's ok too.

I think it's fair to say that I've always been one of the more "controversial" writers around here. I have never shied away from difficult storytelling, and I never will. But what started out as a completely separate issue quickly snowballed into what could only be described as a personal vendetta.

I'm happy to discuss anything within my writing that might be of issue to a reader. A particular blog took offence to a scene I had written in a chapter of my fic, Backstage. I happened to disagree with this blog, and I tried my best to let them know whilst I understood their stance I did not agree with their point of view. I took this opinion to a discord server I was part of along with several other blogs here to see if they could shed more light on the issue.

The scene in question involved a fictionalised version of Josh and the reader in bed. They had gone to bed together with the full narrative of the reader known. How she was in love with him and wanted nothing more than to make love with him. They had been growing close. And Josh began to touch reader as they slept side by side. We get an insight into the readers thoughts during this moment, and they are very much with consent and enjoying the experience. It's meant to be a nod to what is to come. That their bodies are in tune with each other, even if their words are yet to speak of it. I think a lot of experiences in life play out like that. Where we don't always know what to say, but find ourselves in situations where our bodies can do the talking. Anyway, I digress...

There was a lot of opinions flying around in the server. Some were in favour of my opinion, others opposed it and were in favour of the anon who had sent me alot of hateful messages regarding their view that this scene was nothing more than sexual harassment. I explained in the server that I myself had been the victim of sexual assault/harassment. That I knew what it felt like to get into bed with someone I thought that I could trust only to have them break that trust in the most heinous way. I tried to explain that I didn't think this particular scene was that.

One sentence that I said was screenshotted and shared around with absolutely zero context to it and nothing of the rest of the conversation added to the screenshot. Just one sentence that I'd said which pertained to saying that I agreed that people should be able to get in bed with others and have full rights to their own bodies. I was AGREEING with that. It's there in black and white. But the narrative was skewed by people who didn't want to understand me. I tried to explain about how my personal experiences often lied within power imbalances when it came to things like S/H. But in the end, they gave me no chance to explain myself properly. They didn't want to. They'd seen and heard enough and made up their mind.

But it didn't stop there. People who I thought were my friends blocked me. Told me I was disgusting. Told me I was playing the victim. Because I didn't issue a grovelling apology. But how could I? I wasn't sorry. I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd poured my heart out to them about my trauma and abuse and how in my own experience I didn't view it as the same as what I'd written. I'd put trigger warnings. I'd made sure people had the right to information before proceeding!

I had blogs who had never interacted with me block me. Call me disgusting. Tell me fuck myself. I had anons telling me to kill myself. Anons telling me that I was a rapist and...for some reason...a peadophile sympathiser? I didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. I literally wrote two consenting adults touching each other in a bed they'd both gotten into...consentingly.... with very obvious (although unspoken at that point) feelings for each other. But now, that wasn't the issue. The issue was my own personal feelings on sexual harassment.

I'm the first to admit that I am perhaps not an easily digestable person to some. But I know that I am kind. I know that I have spent hours proof reading and editing fics for other writers on here because they asked for my help. I've supported people though personal issues, and I've championed the work of other writers because I truly believed that this space was a wonderful space for creativity. I still do, to some degree. I am not perfect, and I know that sometimes I can be a little head strong when it comes to protecting people's rights to free speech. I understand that I'm not palatable as a person to people who don't agree that the freedom to write should come with the freedom to write anything.

To those of you who never ever spoke to me and are still sharing things about me with the hash tag #fuck you lucie.... to you I say why have you jumped on that bandwagon? You do not know me. You know only what you've heard from people who were intent on pushing a narrative that was their own. Not mine. You don't know that these people were once my friends. And they shared my work and enjoyed it as I enjoyed theirs. They told me things about themselves and I was happy to know them. These people who then decided I was a terrible human being. Based on one thing I said that was taken completely out of context. It's almost as if they have shared it so many times now with their own backstory that it's a canon truth. I'm the worst human to ever walk the earth. Forget about all the good things I did for you. I'm scum.

If you're still reading this, you're probably thinking boo hoo what a victim complex. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do have a victim complex. Like everyone else here I have mental health problems and I'm on the spectrum. I have trauma. As part of my adhd I have rejection sensitivity which means when I'm cornered I tend to fight back with justifications as to why I behaved the way I did. I guess that's what I'm doing now. Trying to explain myself. Again. Although what good it'll do, I dont know. And I think right now, it no longer matters.

And yet I still see that I'm being talked about. I'm still getting accused of sending anons to other blogs when I was literally just existing here in my peaceful little corner, everyone who had ever taken issue with me blocked or unfollowed. I didn't know what was going on over there, I was trying to just enjoy reading and writing. My anxiety could never cope with sending a hateful anon, I know there's ways of finding out where they come from and revealing the blogs who send them and it's like that story we're all told about peeing in the pool and turning the water a different colour. I don't fuck with that shit.

If, for any particular reason, I've ever hurt anyone here to them I do issue a heartfelt apology because it has never been and never will be my intention. I said some awful things in the heat of the moment when I was receiving alot of hate and death threats regarding the AI edit a friend of mine made with audio from one of my fics. I was under so much pressure. I wanted it all to just stop. I just wanted everyone to be able to enjoy whatever made them happy. I am sorry for the things I said during that time. Im a human being. I am flawed. However..

I do not believe that people lose their rights to their body the minute they climb into bed with someone. And that's precisely what I say in the infamous screenshot. I just hope for anyone who has seen it that they now understand that it was said with love and understanding and support. I would never disregard anyones trauma or triggers. Never. And that is why I believe in giving people all the information they require before consuming media and art.

With all this said, I sincerely hope that it's clear that all I want to do is write. It's all ive ever done and all I will ever really be any good at doing. I'm proud of the fics I've put out here on my old blog and this one too. I don't care about how many notes they get, just that one or two people read it and enjoy it. And I hope you all know that I'm a nice person, too. So are a lot of blogs who have been villainised recently. This witch hunt has got to stop. We have got to start listening to each other with peace and understanding and not jump to conclusions. Not make people out to be something they simply aren't.

I want to curate a loving space here. A safe and nurturing space for anyone to feel free within. I want people to know they can jump in my asks and know that I will love them. I want everyone, of every race and every gender and ever creed of this world to know they are welcome and accepted here. Like a wise man that we all know and love once said. I'm not the person they say I am. I never was. And I think some of them know that. It is my greatest hope that any of you who wish to stick around get to know me for yourselves.

It is my greatest wish that those blogs who are still spouting hate about me really grow and heal. Or even better, pop on over and get to know me? I think it's important to understand why you might hate someone and not just from unreliable sources. If you think that I am some sort of s/a supporter who revels in writing that sort of thing then I'd be glad to dispel that myth.

I'm not going to speak on this again because I feel that I've moved on. This blog is my creative outlet and always will be. And as I've stated above its a safe and loving space for all. I'm reclaiming the fun. And hopefully some of you will stick around for it. And if not, I bid you a farewell. With nothing but love in my heart.

#my truth #im not who you think i am #love #support #truth #an open letter #i hope this helps

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presleyhearted · 21 days

Text

Kismet, Kismet ✨🤍 | Part 2

pairing : 1970s!e x Asian!OC summary : Angel Song grew up in a strict, Korean household. Molding her into the perfect 'good girl.' Through a strange case of serendipity, she finds herself face to face with Elvis Presley, the one person who just might threaten to shatter the glass of her good girl act. chapter warnings: age gap, illness, panic.

wc: 3841

genre: 70s!e x college!student!reader. fluff, angst, smut.

taglist: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @obsessedwithurlove

author's note : Here we are with Part 2! Thank you for the attention on part 1. I hope you like the name change, trust me there is a reason for it. I've always made a playlist for this fic! It is in the link below, but I will be adding songs as I go along. Happy reading! <3 - Rose playlist -

“It’s fine now.” Angel breathed out, signaling to the raven-haired star that it was clear for him to turn around. The split second that Elvis was turned around provided Angel with a small inkling of time to well, breathe. To somehow force her brain to process that this is the reality, even if she does not know how or why.

Elvis, on the other hand, was ever the gentleman. But the very thought of a beautiful woman changing clothes right behind him - well, he was a man, after all. This was merely a passing thought though, as the realization that he owed her an explanation for this strange happenstance, made him truly forget what words were. She was a stranger to him, and well, judging from the wide-eyed gaze from her a few seconds ago - He was the complete opposite to her. Whether she is a fan of his, or merely one of the members of the population who know him from the enormity of his fame - there was a crossroad.

If he were to tell her the truth about why America’s favorite rock ‘n’ roll star is hiding in a cleaning supply closet - that would fracture the carefully curated image that he knew the people see him as, most certainly including her. Words spread like wildfire, and the nation is always hungry for new information about the world of the people under the spotlight. Hell, even the rumors that are not even remotely true - people inhale and whisper from ear to ear as if it were a section in an academic textbook. For a situation like this, that is true and is real, it would be on the front page news by the morning of the next day.

It’s better this way. Elvis tried to tell himself. By upholding the immaculate persona that the public has carved out for him, he would not only be saving himself but also saving her idea of him. He does not want to leave her with a memory of Elvis Presley revealing that the man underneath the glimmering spotlight, has never felt more engulfed by the waves of darkness than he does now.

So, that is it. He decides to conceal an ugly truth in exchange for keeping the beautiful idea of him that she most certainly has. And just in time, she tells him that it is fine to now turn around.

So, he does. And goddamn it, Elvis thinks to himself. The choices and thoughts that occupied his mind suddenly went to a standstill. It was as if the time that he took to think about what his explanation would be, made him briefly forget to truly have a look at her. Albeit, he did not have time to earlier due to letting her change, now - Elvis found himself finding the space of the supply closet shrink at a rapid rate. He was sat down, and she was stood up - Elvis could not help but find his gaze traveling from her long, slightly tanned legs, to the dress, and to her face that seemed to turn a charming shade of crimson under his gaze.

A pair of hazel eyes looked into his azure eyes. The very same pair of hazel eyes that when she blinked - perfectly captured the appearance of double eyelashes that accompanied her eyes. Elvis’ gaze traveled further - a small button nose, and a full, inviting burgundy-colored lips. Her skin radiated a glow - she was pale, but slightly tanned, a sure result of the Vegas heat. Like the mix of milk and honey. He noticed her black, wavy hair reaching almost her waist - Angel was certainly not tall, but also not short. She was like an oil painting personified, like an art piece that somehow felt the need to step out of the confines of the frame that she was in and step her hand out to him. A beauty that he never believed existed, never encountered before, and felt that he was the admirer intruding. He was so entranced by Angel, that he hardly realized that she had sat herself down on the floor.

Angel cleared her throat, “It was . . . um odd for me to be standing up.” She explained. Her voice was soft, but firm. There was a timidness to her tone, that she noticed very quickly, and tried to desperately fix it because well - I can’t make a fool of myself in front of Elvis Presley. She told herself, but how does one steady herself when he is looking at her with such blunt intensity? It was an intensity that rippled through every part of her being, as he did not fixate on one part of her, he was studying her - every detail of her. She wished she could take a glimpse into his mind and know what he was thinking. She prided herself in being able to read people easily, ever the analytical mind of hers - as her friend Felicity would say.

But not this time. Angel tried to shake herself out of it and thought to herself ‘It won’t matter. He’ll say what he needs to say, and we’ll part ways.’

Angel then thought to herself that it most probably be the easier and smarter choice to apologize to him, apologise for barging in and invading personal space, and then be on her way out. This would make more sense since he does not owe her an explanation. Yes, she was initially shocked to find him in such a random place, but it did not mean he had to explain anything to her. Then Angel also realizes that Elvis has not said anything since turning around, he must be thinking the same thing. Angel thought.

So, with that, she shakes her hand at him and starts to stand back up, “I’m so sorry, Mr Presley. You don’t have to explain anything to me, I’ll go.” Her words rushed out of her mouth, words that filled a sudden dread in Elvis.

“No, honey, it’s alright.” He said softly, making Angel pause her actions. She was frozen in confusion. She was in a rush a few moments before getting changed because she was afraid to miss her favorite star walking out onto the stage for the first time in front of her eyes. But that was before she discovered that he was sitting down in a supply closet and before she also became aware that the time on the ticking clock in the small confined space - showed it had been well past the time Elvis was supposed to be on stage.

“But, I don’t want to intrud-”

Elvis cuts off her sentence, “You wouldn’t be, darlin.”

Angel finds herself biting her bottom lip, in a mental battle of her thoughts. An action that does not go unnoticed by Elvis. Angel felt her cheeks blush again at the sound of the name he called her, she was aware it was probably a habit of people from the South, but it made her blush nevertheless.

“I shouldn’t have barged in like that,” She finds herself saying, still standing.

Elvis shrugged, “It’s my fault.”

Angel profusely shook her head, “No, it’s not. I-”

There she is again, biting her bottom lip - a habit that Elvis found became keenly aware of.

“If you keep doin’ that honey, you’ll cause a bleed,” Elvis said, a smirk now on his lips. Yes, Angel did make eye contact with him, but not for long. The eye contact was overwhelming, so she found herself catching her eyes on everywhere else, but him. Which has been proven unsuccessful now, since that comment of his - with that teasing smirk on his lips, was a powerful weapon in making her hold the gaze of his blue eyes again.

She stopped biting her bottom lip, and found herself mumbling under her breath, “What am I doing.”

“Sit with me. Please.” Elvis said, his tone soft.

“But-”

“Are you in a hurry, darlin?”

A question, loaded with the hopes of a specific response. Elvis was aware that they were likely searching endlessly for him, hands probably in their hair in distress, but he could not leave. Not yet. Jerry knows. Knows where he is, even if Elvis did pull out a lie about the reason why he needed to ‘step out’ for a while and not be where he needs to be.

Words were caught in Angel’s throat, “Yes. No. Yes,” Upon seeing the amused grin on Elvis’ face, she sighed and attempted to clarify herself, “I mean, I was - I’m here to see your show.”

There it was. The very reason why she could not know the truth behind why he was here, and not out there now. She is a fan, and for his fans - telling the truth would be shattering something in them. He could never do that to them.

Elvis hummed, “I know what you’re thinkin’, I’ll tell you.”

Angel somehow found herself sitting back down. Slowly. Of course, it would’ve been smarter if she just left. But there is a curious part of her, the part that wanted to know why Elvis Presley was in a supply closet when he was supposed to be on stage by now. Even more so, why his infamous entourage was not in sight.

Having her at the same eye level as him, Elvis swore he felt his breath caught in his throat and a distant knock of the heart within his body.

“You must be thinkin’ why’s that fool hiding in a supply closet?” Elvis said, chuckling a little. But also realizing that he said the word ‘hiding’ implies a surface of the truth. The truth that he told himself he would never reveal to her. But he just did, even if it was a tiny particle of the truth, and he did it subconsciously. With no control at all, as if his mind wanted her to learn it. Somehow.

And he very well knew that Angel caught wind of the word.

She did not know what to say, so Elvis continued.

Elvis ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, “I lost one of my rings. I was gonna ask the cleaning staff who was in here, thought she was ‘cus the door was open. But nah, no one was in here. Only me,” He then let out a laugh, a laugh that somehow sounded difficult to let out.

Only me and my foolish self. Elvis thought to himself.

Angel found the sound of that laugh to be quite forceful, a habit that was similar to what she did when conversing with her relatives when asked about certain subjects at family gatherings. She knew that kind of laugh too well, heck, she was the expert in it. Knew it well enough to know that the explanation Elvis just gave her, held no truth in it at all. Except for the last part. That she was sure of.

“Did you find it?” She asked instead, despite somehow having a feeling that he was throwing out an elaborate story of this ring.

Elvis shook his head in an attempt to keep that crooked grin on his lips, somehow looking strained - Angel thought to herself.

“No, I haven’t. I-”

It was Angel’s turn to interrupt this time.

“My name is Angel.” She found herself blurting this, not out of randomness, but because she somehow could feel he was sharing something personal with her when she hadn’t even told him her name yet. It was unbalanced. She knew him, well the image of him, and then now sharing this information with her - she had to tell him her name. She owed him that.

Elvis paused. He couldn’t help but. Of course, it is. There could not be any other name for her out there in the universe, it is the only name that belongs to her. It belongs to her.

“I thought it was only fair I told you my name. It’s not simple to be sharing this information with me, a stranger, Mr Presley.”

Heck, Angel could not even comprehend why he chose to share this with her, or why he wanted her to stay and sit with him for a while.

Elvis nodded, “Angel.” He said as if testing the way her name rolled off his tongue. Something was blissfully enchanting but illicit about the way he said her name, which sent a trickle of warmth through her body and locked her breath for just a second.

“It suits you very much,” Elvis said honestly because it truly did.

“Thank you, Mr Presley.”

Elvis shook his head, “Just ‘Elvis.’ Mr Presley is my father.” A wide smile overtook his face, an actual smile that Angel knew was genuine. She just did.

Angel nodded sheepishly and somehow found herself smiling, a contagious effect from him.

A sight that Elvis couldn’t help but think that he was possibly in a deep slumber, a daydream of some kind that involved this mesmerizing being with the face of heaven sent and the name to suit it. And now that smile of hers, a smile that dares to rival the morning sun. Not that Elvis saw much of the daytime, but if he did, he was pretty certain that the young woman in front of him could easily overshadow it.

Elvis paused then from drinking in her existence when he saw the frown on her face and her hazel eyes of hers pooling with a sense of sadness.

Damn it. She must be thinking ‘bout the show. I’ve disappointed her, she’s here tonight to see me perform. Not this. Elvis thought.

“I’ll be out on stage soon, don’t worry ‘bout it, Angel.” Elvis says, as if sensing that was what Angel was thinking.

But Elvis was wrong. He’s not even remotely close to guessing what she must be thinking.

Angel does not know why she has not noticed. Surely, it must be the shock of the strange situation that must’ve made her not realize. Not realize that Elvis Presley was profusely sweating and that made his raven hair stick to his pale skin. Angel was no medical expert, but it was the kind of pale that called for rest and a good break. It wouldn’t even make sense why he was sweating when he had not stepped foot on stage yet. Even more so, the way his chest would rise and fall at an abnormal rate.

Perhaps also the reason why he has been sitting down the entire time.

Elvis Presley looked tired.

She pulled out a handkerchief from her bag, an action that caused an eyebrow to quirk from Elvis.

The realization of how. . . vulnerable he looked. It pinched her heart in a way that made her ask the next question, forgetting momentarily that they had only merely met each other a few moments ago.

“Can I. . . ?” She gestured at his face, and somehow Elvis understood.

Somehow in that split second of her sad, hazel eyes meeting his blue eyes - Elvis knew that Angel saw behind it all. Behind the facade. That the veil of protection he put over the truth and the crafted lie - has now dropped, revealing him. Revealing that he is everything but fine. Elvis Presley crafted his public persona in such a masterful way, to the degree that people would not even notice the energy and shine he once had, was slowly fading away.

But Angel did.

And so, with her question, Elvis nodded. Angel put herself closer to him and pulled her knees underneath her as she sat down, so she would be sat on her heels. Elvis closed his eyes, as Angel neared him with the handkerchief in her hand as she slowly, but surely was wiping the sweat from his face. The closer proximity to her made Elvis naturally inhale her scent, she smelled of vanilla and a hint of what smelled like rose oil. A combination that was sweet, but playful. A tease to his senses. Elvis dared to open his eyes again, meeting her hazel eyes. Angel felt herself tense at the intense gaze of his eyes, as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The feeling of the cloth wiping the sweat on his face away was not much of an effect compared to the gentleness with which Angel did this. The genuine concentration, and worry in her knotted forehead made his heart sore and trip simultaneously.

She instinctively put the back of her hand on his forehead, as if realizing that she may be overstepping she withdrew her hand back like a flash of lightning. But Elvis was quick to reach for her, his hand enclosed around his wrist.

“It’s okay, honey.”

He let go and she reluctantly, but with Elvis’ nod, touched his forehead with the back of her hand once again.

“Mr. Pre- Elvis, you are burning up.” She said, her tone not even hiding the worry swimming in it.

Angel finds herself looking around and grabbing her bag, “I don’t, I thought I had a bottle of water or something. I don’t know. Sorry.” She said, oblivious to the smile on Elvis’ face as she rummaged through her bag.

Despite feeling the fatigue build up in him again, he found himself smiling at her.

“Say it again.” He said, despite breathing deeply.

Angel was puzzled, “Huh?”

“My name, say it again.” He wanted to desperately hear her say it again, a sound that was beautiful and was the opposite of the horrifying state that he felt his body being engulfed in.

A saving grace.

“Elvis, “ She sighed, “I know I’m in no position to tell you what to do, but you are not well. You need to rest.” She said honestly, gone was the timidness beforehand, and in its place was a woman running in a spiral of worry.

Worry for him, and it was a sight that Elvis had not seen in a long time.

Elvis shook his head, “I’m fine. I need to perform. ” He said, almost mumbling his words.

“You are not well for it. People will understand.” Angel found herself saying.

“Will you understand?” He asked.

“Of course. Any of your fans will.” She said with an encouraging nod.

Angel waited years to see him perform live, and if that first performance happened to be when he was feeling like this, she couldn’t watch him. Can’t let it happen. Heck, she’ll wait years even - she’ll wait till he is better enough to perform.

“Not the Colonel.” He responds, a sad smile on his lips.

Angel assumed this must be his manager, remembering his face and the name of newspaper pages. What kind of person, let alone manager - would let him perform like this?

“It’s too hot here, you need to be someplace else,” Angel said, knowing that the supply closet was not the appropriate place for him to rest properly, “Does anyone know that you are here? How do I get ahold of them?”

She was in full-on panic mode now and leaped up onto her feet. Elvis sprung his arm forward and grabbed hold of her hand, “Angel, don’t leave. Please.” The tone of his voice was void of the confidence and teasing from moments prior, in place was the pleading voice that was filled with fear. True fear. A fear that she would leave him like this.

She shook her head quickly, “No, no. I-I just was thinking how to get you help.”

Angel is smart enough to know that she could not just waltz out of here, and find a helpful passerby because it is not just anyone she is getting help for. Elvis Presley. Somehow, she just knew that he wouldn’t want his vulnerable state to be known to any other person than the ones who work for him and know him.

She was just a fan. But somehow through a happenstance of naturality or not, she saw right through him - saw right through the armor that he lets dazzle everyone else. And even if he realized that she stepped over that veil - he let her. Let Angel walk right through it.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like now, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to have her hand in his. An action that was so quick, but she swore sent a flicker of something through her bloodstream.

And just in time, there was a knock on the door - a look exchanged between both of them. But a breath of relief escaped them simultaneously as it was the familiar face of Jerry Schilling who walked through and shut the door behind him. Angel knew that he worked for Elvis, and saw him in that one article of Elvis’ entourage being labeled ‘The Memphis Mafia.’

So, she was glad that a stroke of luck hit, as her prayers were answered. Because otherwise she really did not know what to do.

Jerry Schilling’s eyes found Elvis’ and scanned the state that his friend/boss was in, before shifting his gaze to the woman who was standing up and whose hand Elvis gripped tightly. As if signaling to help him, Jerry nodded and advanced towards Elvis, at the same time Angel dropped her hand from Elvis.

“Come on, E. Let’s go.” Jerry said, but Elvis’ gaze was on the black-haired beauty who was currently getting her bag off the floor. His eyelids were half-closed.

She turned with the handkerchief in her hand and planned to hand this to him, to let him keep it. But found him tugging her hand again, closer to him.

“Stay.” He said.

“I-”

Angel turned to look at Jerry Schilling as if silently asking for his opinion on this.

“I’ll go if she goes with me,” Elvis said, almost mumbling his words.

Jerry Schilling then nods to her.

Angel sighed, not quite sure how and why this is happening all of a sudden. The probability of their meeting, and now with Elvis’ reluctancy to go with someone who could help him. Someone who he knows far more than her, her who was a mere stranger not that long ago. She tried to make sense of and understand why Elvis would want her to be there when he would have more than enough people around him soon. People who knew him personally, and who will help him.

She could not wrap her head around it at all.

But with the ticking of the clock on the wall, and Elvis seeming to not have any plans to get up from his spot yet, she realized that he was waiting for her to say something.

“Okay.” Angel said.

Kismet. Kismet. Perform. Mask. facade. My name. Your name. Angel. Pale. The truth. Elvis. Elvis. Angel. If she goes. Kismet. Kismet.

#elvis fic #elvis presley #angst #fluff #elvis x original female character #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #kismet kismet #part 2

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katyspersonal · 2 months

Note

3 for Aldrich, Aldia, Willem & Laurence

9 for Maria

11 for Micolash & Aldrich

24 for Laurence

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

As for Aldrich, I vaguely recall finding out that he checks the traits I like the most? He was one of the characters I've learned about through fandom and not on my own, and I think this ancient meme about summarises it:

Also:

@val-of-the-north SHUDDUP you're basically so horny for Laurence/Logarius/Snatchers that you can't even picture them in your mind in any way but being naked!!!!!!! *casts the stone back at u*

With Laurence, like with Mico, it was the very first glance at the character in Youtube compilation with boss themes and concept art image. I did not know the lore yet, but the design and the music made me imagine Laurence as sort of aged, sagely librarian. I could not imagine back then that his boss fight would be him being a "helpless abhorrent little mewmew" as kids call it! Heck, I thought he'd have dialogue despite the monster form x) In a way, my first impression was not wrong, with the cut content of him actually talking even in a beast form, and implication of him being a son of Cainhurst cut content librarian NPC! I have intuition for cut content before having information, hahaha!

I have nothing to say about Willem. It might be a memory gap thing, but I swear at some point I feel I was turned off and then booted back up with liking this character already installed in my system x) As for Aldia.... ugh for fuck's sake... yeah, it was this legend:

youtube

I was absolutely floored by this stupid vid even without knowing any context, but I also instantly liked this character. I didn't even know his name yet, but the voice acting and long yapping about philosophy already pulled me in XD (Also unironically, this video is precisely how I give relationship advice fhfhdds)

9) Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Yeah, I know this person. I know them very well. I know them more than anyone else. Someone who was misguided (by their destructive influence mentor figure, by their own foolishness and past history, or combination of both, who can tell anymore?) into committing awful things, then despaired over their sins and attempted redemption but also failed in some way? This person is me. At some point I've found myself in front of horrible truth about my past life and personality, and knew I was guilty and sullied forever. That it was over for me as a human being, but that didn't matter, and I could only keep people safe by locking myself away and trying to serve something better.

......annnnd it took a few years of more informed people to (metaphorically) shake me and slap my face into lucidity, explaining to me that I've fallen for the "BPD demonization" that was going far beyond than my individual failure as a friend, and we are always accused of abuse and causing irreversible harm when the worst we do is being emotionally overbearing. I kept losing trust to those friends, telling them that they were enablers who tried to gaslight me into thinking I was not 'that much of a monster', until it was other people with BPD who 'shook me and slapped my face into lucidity'. xd Nonetheless, even though now I know the truth about how society treats BPDs, I remember the feeling of being so monstrous and harmful that I was not even allowed to "touch" people with my dirty hands, how my reality used to be. So, I could write Maria going through this effortlessly, especially considering what she did was more plain and tangible!

In fact... thank you for asking me about this, because I kept wondering why I had such frequent dreams about being Maria, and why the Maria in my dreams acts like abused child that took back control against Gehrman despite my portrayal of the guy being so different. And now the puzzle is solved! That part of me still lives inside, it seems.

11) How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Already answered this for Micolash here: ( x )! As for Aldrich, it was through properly analysing the bigger picture and context of his actions. I've figured that his madness was, in fact, being informed on what was far too ahead of everyone else around him! He, like the rest of the cast, is trapped in the rotting, doomed world in which the only choices are 1) "die with dignity" or 2) commit something unthinkable from moral standpoint for a chance to escape. And will morality of the rotting world will matter in the new world anyways? Won't it all be left behind and be forgiven?

The guy also tried to take everyone else he could with him, like sort of a fucked up Noah's Arc! I can tell that they reused the concept with Rykard, at least, I am glad they know what works xD I'd say that the sadism he experienced upon eating people was either result of insanity (he understood a thing no one should understand), or still didn't exclude the bigger purpose (egotistically revelling in how holy he is helping everyone and doing what no one else dared, which would be like my Laurence). In any case, I have the strongest respect to the courage it takes to transcend the bonds of morality and compassion in order to to greater good. Being burdened with the knowledge of how the world really works, and choosing to push through instead of still being bound... This is why I also like Fauxsefka; learning how this world works, she chose to turn people into Kin so they can't ever become beasts. I am weak for this trope, you don't understand.

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

Laurence appears in my dreams only in two contexts: 1) Micolaurence or 2) dreams about finding secret files in Bloodborne that reveal his canonical appearance before beasthood! I can tell the latter comes from my everlasting unsatisfaction with my design for him, because I love it but it doesn't feel "fitting" and I can't identify why!

The former, I think, fandom rubbing onto me x) In two of these dreams, I was Laurence. In other two, I was Micolash. In one of Laurence dreams it was mutual, in the second one I was in love unrequited. In one of Micolash dreams, it was mutual, and in another it was not.. Basically, my dreams allows me to experience this ship from every possible angle. o_o Waiting for more I guess fhhdfsfd

______________

Thank you for asking! And.. without exaggeration, you've just done quite a psychological work on me by just asking the right thing. I need to think about that, hahaha

#bloodborne #dark souls 3 #aldrich devourer of gods #laurence the first vicar #soulsborne #ask replies #personal #memories #dreams #honestly I remember Maria in my dreams hiding in the closet like an abused bullied child.. that big strong woman reduced to this #and I finally know why it was this way #I'd rather not sully Gehrman with something as dirty as my stepdad of course he deserves so much more and he is his own man #I just don't like the approach of turning characters with their own stories and personality into vessels for my trauma #it feels like frenzied flame: you got infected by it and you have unending need to spread it. to scorch the world in your pain.#I don't think this approach would help my healing but instead make me feel worse by nourishing the trauma #I am keeping it sealed away from the world forever now </3 #see this is why it hurts me so much when gehrman haters accuse me of being insensitive to people that want to project their negative-#-experiences with men and misogyny onto him even if that means twisting the actual story and character. I do have a reason to do it myself #I just choose not to because I personally dislike the idea of making fandomry about myself more and about source material less #I don't want to bring the pain and horrors inside me into something that doesn't have them. some things can stay clean!#the passive aggression between canon worshippers and fanon enforcers is something that cannot be avoided in the fandoms #and I disapprove of the lie about 100% peace and mutual respect between the 'camps'. we will never FULLY like each other #each thinks their approach is more productive for the community. and that's fine!

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writerbythewater-blog · 3 months

Text

Stereotype

Paul was about to walk into the breakroom when he heard one of his coworkers speaking.

"The kid’s just so damn dumb. Can't even remember his classmates' names, or when work is due. How is he in your class?"

Walking into the room Paul saw the speaker was an English teacher for the grade below him. They hadn't spoken to each other but Paul thought his name was Smith.

"Yeah I've got him. He keeps asking me how to get to his classes. I know it's only the third day of the school year, but the kid should have learned the hallways by now. He was in the school last year too. Still doesn't even know my name, but I heard from his teachers last year he never learned theirs either. Honestly, how did he get this far?"

How could they talk about a student that way? Did they really think it was okay? Paul hoped they at least knew better than to say this shit in front of the kid in question. He put his lunch in the microwave while he listened to them. Trouble with name's, date's, and direction.

"I know. Have you seen the kid's handwriting yet? Can't even make out half of it, and the stuff you can is backwards half the time!"

"His numbers are no better."

Poor handwriting and backwards letters and numbers.

"How's his reading time? Out loud I mean." Paul asked glaring at the two. They jumped in their seats, having not noticed him walk in.

"Oh uh. Pretty slow. Maybe a paragraph a minuet, and he stumbles over most of the words. At least that's what I heard from his last English teacher. They told me not to bother trying to call on the kid in class it would just slow the class down."

Paul frowned at them both as he pulled out his lunch.

"Have you read his file? Sounds to me like he has dyslexia." Paul sat down across from the two.

"Oh yeah I think he said something about that on the first day, but that only explains the trouble reading." Smith said, rolling his eyes.

"No it explains everything else too. Dyslexia affects every part of a person's life. There's a reason it's a disability." Paul said calmly. Every demigod he spoke to had the same stories about school, and not just them every dyslexic child that walked into his class did too.

By the time they reached his class so many other teachers had failed them that they had given up. He worked so hard to earn their trust and hated handing them over to a new teacher the next year. Their files stated they were to be given aid that many of them were so shocked to receive like their past teachers never bothered. Listening to these two idiots talk he understood why.

"At least one of the children in your class has a disability and instead of doing your job and helping them learn your what? Complaining about them to other teachers? Do you talk to the child in question like this?"

Smith tried to speak, but Paul just kept going. Pushing on like Annabeth always did when she knew she was right.

"A quick Google search, which you can do at your desk, would reveal a lot about dyslexia. However, sitting down and coming up with a plan with the student would work even better. I'm sure his file says he needs to be given extra time on tests, or have them read aloud to him, have you talked about how to accommodate that? Or, since you know time management is difficult for him, how to make it easier to remember when work is due or a planned test is coming up. If handwritten work is hard for you to read. Have you spoken to them about finding a way to use the schools computers to type work up instead, or did you just write them off? Did you just wash your hands of a child who needs help?"

The two teachers slouched in their chairs lookin anywhere but at Paul. Rolling his eye's Paul ate his lunch, and left the two to think about their choices. In the meantime Paul needed to plan. The child needed help, because he already knew he was dyslexic he should have a class with a teacher to help him learn to work with it. Paul would need to swing by the class and inform the teacher about these two, the thought made him glare at them again, and ask if there was a way they could help.

Even in the classes they tended to only focus on what would help the kids in class, but hopefully if Paul brought it up the teacher would be willing to help. He also needed to talk with the Princable. If these teachers were willing to say this stuff in the breakroom Paul worried about how they spoke to children in the classroom. Children tended to not report things their teachers did wrong, because there wasn't really a known way they could. Finishing his lunch he packed up, and left to set up meetings with one last glare at the two. He had work to do.

#fanfic #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fanfic

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teenwolfmarvel-obsessor · 1 year

Text

Vigilante Shit

Outer Banks Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Summary: You had your fair share of douchebag exes. JJ liked to joke that you were a magnet to them. Surprisingly, you had been dating Kelce for about two years. It shocked most people, but he wasn't all that bad until he cheated fully sober. You thought it would be an excellent idea to get revenge on Kelce with John B's help.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Topper Thornton -> your cousin

Warnings:

Slight Language

John B Routledge x-reader

"Can we not try to kick me in the face?" Topper stopped the soccer ball with his foot. "But that would ruin the fun," I smirked. He rolled his eyes and pushed the blue and white ball to me. We just finished our grocery run with my mom. Rafe and Topper were a part of this upcoming Golf trip, and they needed some help with groceries.

Topper and I were the closest in our family. Some people are often alarmed when they find out we're related. He has his moments. He isn't all that bad once you get to know him. I mean, he doesn't have the best group of friends to be his real self. And my boyfriend happens to be one of those friends.

Kelce and I have been dating for over two years. Again, people - meaning my friends - frequently ask me why I'm dating one of the cocky Kooks. He's sweet, and he actually isn't a bad person. Just like my cousin, my boyfriend has his moments. A few times, I've been worried that our relationship will fall apart.

As summer goes on, I can't help but worry about Kelce's actions. We've always been honest. It's our number one rule to tell each other everything and not get jealous if we're with our friends. But I guess he can use those rules to his advantage. Before Topper and I started hanging out, he told me he had something to tell me.

I tried to keep my mind from wandering elsewhere in hopes I wouldn't freak out. Topper caught the ball with his foot and picked it up from the grass. "Hey! You're using your hands!" I pointed at him. "Have you heard from Kelce?" he ignored my comment. I shook my head and slipped off my sandals.

He watched me as I set my shoes beside the chairs. Topper sighed and set the soccer ball behind him. "Do you remember that party I went to last weekend? The one you and your friends decided not to go to," he said. "Yes. I am well aware of that," I replied.

Topper rolled his eyes and plopped down on the chair. Three weeks ago, there was a huge rager at a fellow Kooks house. Kiara and I were going to go, but we decided not to and just hangout with the guys. Which was much more fun.

John B and I spent the whole night talking and cleaning the living room after hosting our own party. My cousin reached into his khaki pocket to pull out his phone. I looked out at the water in front of my house, admiring the waves hitting the dock. I smiled in remembrance of when John B and I had snuck down here one school night.

"Here," Topper tapped me on the knee with his phone. My attention was drawn away from the beautiful view. I looked down at Topper's hand and grabbed his phone. "What am I looking at exactly?" I inquired. "That party I just mentioned," he said. I nodded and motioned for him to continue.

Topper leaned forward with his arms resting on his knees. "I saw Kelce walking into a room with a girl," he informed, "I was able to take some pictures. When he walked out of the room, it looked like something happened. I think Kelce has been seeing her for a couple weeks. I saw him the other day with her at the resort."

I scrolled through the pictures. My heart sank when I flipped to one specific photo. The girl was sitting on Kelce's lap, her legs wrapped around him. Her arms were on his shoulders while his hands sat on her waist.

"Y/N/N, I am so sorry. I debated even telling you and letting him confess, but I knew that would hurt you even more."

My grip on the phone tightened as I stared at the images. I thought I could trust Kelce. I thought we had something for our two years together, but I guess all of that was a facade. Topper's eyes remained on me. He slowly took his phone away from my hand. I didn't take my line of vision off of the green grass.

Topper hesitated at first but joined my side on the bench. He hugged me. "What're you gonna do?" he rested his chin on the top of my head. There was a long pause as I thought of something I could do. Murder was always an option, but I'd prefer to not be in prison at sixteen years old.

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie They say looks can kill, and I might try I don't dress for women, I don't dress for men Lately, I've been dressing for revenge

________

(Later)

After my conversation with Topper, I changed and chose to stop by the chateau. I needed some advice and someone to be my partner in crime. John B has always been someone I can rely on.

Since moving to the Outer Banks, it's always been hard for me to make friends. Being related to Topper helped a bit, but most of the people he introduced me to were complete assholes. So, when I met John B and the Pogues, I jumped at the opportunity. Now, we're really good friends.

The Twinkie sat in the driveway, telling me my friends were home. "John B!" I called, stepping onto the screened-in porch. "In the kitchen," he replied. I opened up the side door to see him standing at the sink. He dropped a paper towel into the trashcan and leaned against the wall next to the fridge. He stepped back with his brows raised when he saw me (GIF Above). "I need your help," I caught my breath.

"With what?" he inquired. John B stepped away from the kitchen to stand in front of me. "He cheated. Kelce cheated on me," I said. Just saying those words made my heart clench, and my stomach tighten. John B's expression changed suddenly. "How did you find out?" he walked over to the couch.

He sat down and pat the spot beside him. "Topper told me," I replied, "Apparently, Kelce made out with some touron at a party, and they've seen each other since. Topper has pictures to prove it." I pulled out my phone to show my best friend the 'evidence.'

Topper sent them to me after he found out I was going to the chateu. He knew that I'd want to show John B. Obviously, not our other friends, they'd go insane if they saw the pictures. But I can imagine they will find out soon. John B looked over my shoulder to see my camera roll.

His brows rose - again - at the images. He reached a hand over, deleting each of the pictures. John B ignored my expression and shut off my phone. "You don't need to keep looking at those. It'll just make you feel bad," he said. "I already feel bad," my shoulders dropped.

He sighed and set an arm around my shoulders. I smiled as my head rested against him. "So, what's the plan stan?" he rhymed, "Murder?"

I laughed and shook my head in response. I told him that that wasn't necessary, even though I wanted to hurt Kelce. "Normally, I wouldn't be prone to causing a bit of trouble, but if it happens to involve my best friend. I'll allow it," he smirked.

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends Don't get sad, get even So on the weekends I don't dress for friends Lately, I've been dressing for revenge

My face scrunched up when John B rubbed the top of my head with a fist. I raised my arms, preventing him from giving me another knuckle sandwich. It went quiet as he thought to himself. "Didn't Kelce get a new dirt bike?" he thought. I nodded.

A mischievous smirk appeared on his face when the idea popped into his head. I let out a small gasp once I had caught on to what he had said. "Kiara left some spray paint in the shack. We got some pretty obnoxious colors," he winked. He stood up from the pull-out couch. John B grabbed the keys from the little bowl and waved them.

"I've got the Twinkie all gassed up."

"You are a terrible influence."

"But you love me," he said. "Do I?" I stood up from the couch. He punched my shoulder as he followed me. After debating on which spray paint to grab, we settled on neon pink, green, and mustard yellow. Kiara had done an art project for school and just so happened to leave the paint at John B's.

Big mistake, Kie. Big mistake. John B made sure to park a few blocks away just in case Kelce was at the front of the house. We stood behind the brick wall separating his house from the one beside his. Kelce's neighborhood had houses scattered about. Thankfully, the view from each house wasn't pointed at us.

That left us with a good hiding spot. I peered over the top of the wall to see if Kelce was there. John B got out the paint from his backpack. He handed me the neon yellow one. "The bike's in the garage," I said. "Is it open?" he asked. "Yeah," I whispered.

He cheered to himself. I tilted my head to the back entrance, where we could sneak in and out. "Since it's 1:00, Kelce's family has that family reunion thingy," I said, "We should be in the clear." The two of us knelt in front of the dirt bike.

John B left my side to stand in the doorway of the garage. He stayed on high alert. I covered my mouth as I used neon green to cover the handles and wheels of the car.

I wrote 'cheater' on the side of the dirt bike and 'asshole' on the other side. I hoped Kelce's new girl would see this and dump his ass. I'd hate for her to deal with this whole fiasco too. I mean, she had no choice. I doubt she even knows that he had a girlfriend.

She needed cold hard proof, so I gave her some. She had the envelope; where do you think she got it from? Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife And she looks so pretty Driving in your Benz Lately, she's been dressing for revenge

I grinned at my work before adding the finishing touches. I painted a thick coat of neon pink on the seat before adding yellow polka dots. John B looked over his shoulder to find me standing victoriously beside the horrible-looking bike. "That looks awesome," he chuckled. I bowed and set the can back into his backpack.

"We should leave before anyone sees us," he said. "Good idea," I said. We hastily escaped through the back entrance and ran towards the Twinkie. I couldn't help but laugh. Kelce got what he deserved. John B gave me a fist bump while he pulled out of the neighborhood. "Now what?" he said. "I need a drink," I leaned my head against the seat's headrest. "I can help with that," he grinned.

________

(Later)

She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends Don't get sad, get even So on the weekends She don't dress for friends Lately, she's been dressing for revenge

John B and I sat on the HMS Pogue. The others were on their way from wherever the hell they were. I took a long sip of my drink and set it beside me. The two of us kept saying how much it was to spray paint Kelce's bike.

John B's shoulder sat comfortably around my shoulders. The sun was still in the sky, with just a few clouds in sight. It had been cloudy earlier today but had cleared up as the day progressed. "How do you think the others will react?" John B questioned.

"Don't know," I sighed, "Pope will be worried, JJ will be proud, and Kiara will probably be a mix of both."

He nodded in agreement, drinking his beer. We stopped by the store to grab some beers from JJ's guy. "Have you ever done something like that?" he said, "And I'm not counting that one time you carved your initials in Mr. Sun's desk."

I scoffed and finished off my drink. I went to grab another beer, but John B pulled my hand away. "Nah, I think you've had enough," he said. "Oh, come on," I pouted. "You're not drowning your feelings with alcohol," he said.

Ladies always rise above Ladies know what people want Someone sweet and kind and fun The lady simply had enough

He disregarded my annoyed expression and leaned back in the leather seat. I observed the grass ahead of us swaying from the breeze and waves. The cool Summer wind brushed against the trees, the marsh, and the dock.

"Well, hello mi amigos!" JJ hollered, already holding a beer. John B and I waved to them. Kiara came over with a cooler in hand and Pope with the speaker. "How's it goin'?" Kie asked.

"Pretty good," I grinned. She looked at me suspiciously and stepped onto the boat. Kie set the cooler next to the other one. "What did you do?" she asked. "More importantly, what did both of you do?" Pope added. Kiara tilted her head in agreement with Popesicle's statement.

John B cleared his throat and motioned me to spill the beans. I sat up in my spot, crossing my legs. "I may or may not have vandalized Kelce's bike," I grinned. Pope's mouth dropped in reaction. Kiara choked on her water when I confessed.

Not surprisingly, JJ laughed and shook his head. He gave me a high five and joined Pope. "You did what?" Pope said. "We vandalized Kelce's prized possession," John B repeated casually. He stretched, acting as if it wasn't such a big deal. "And exactly why did you do that?" Pope asked for more information.

I explained what happened, with John B chiming in. They were surprised that Topper had pictures, but they knew my cousin would do anything for me. Pope's reaction slowly turned to acceptance. Once he heard the reason, he decided that the decision was allowed.

While he was doing lines And crossing all of mine Someone told his white-collar crimes to the FBI And I don't dress for villains Or for innocents I'm on my vigilante shh again

________

(Later)

The others settled in for the night, but I continued to stay down at the dock. I sat on the edge with my feet skimming across the water. Every once in a while, I saw fish swimming and occasionally came up to the surface. My attention was drawn away when I heard footsteps.

John B strolled over to me with a blanket in hand. I smiled up at him as he sat down. "You looked cold," he wrapped one end around me and the other around him. It was quiet between us up until he spoke up. "How're you doing? And don't say it's a stupid question because I know it is," he said, "I just wanted to see what was going through your head."

I thanked him. John B lightly kissed my forehead and brought me in for a hug. "I'm always here for you. I hope you know that," he said. "I do," I said.

Taglist: @kasidy709 @soflties @elliecool123

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks season one #outer banks season two #outer banks season three #john b routledge #john b routledge imagines #john b routledge x-reader #john b routledge fluff #chase stokes #chase stokes imagines #chase stokes x-readers #song inspired imagines #Spotify

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silencedminstrel · 9 months

Text

(Artist unknown)

A DIALOGUE OF SPIRITS - THE "SCAFFOLDS OF CREATION" AFTER THE DARK EMPEROR HAD UNSHACKLED THEM FROM THE "TREE OF LIFE" (SPECULATIVE SCRIPT)

EXT - AN UNKNOWN WORLD SOMEWHERE WITHIN "THE GLEAMING FIELD" (HYPER UNIVERSE) - DAY

THE CHARACTERS - TAS UVUNGULA @ THE YELLOW KING (LORD OF THE AIR ELEMENT), QUEEN MERNIA (LADY OF THE EARTH ELEMENT), ENVERD KALIPOTH (LORD OF THE WATER ELEMENT) AND ZEL-HALVEL (LORD OF THE FIRE ELEMENT)

THE FOUR ETHEREAL MANIFESTATIONS OF THE BASIC BUILDING BLOCKS OF CREATION, WHICH GOES BY THE NAME OF THE "SCAFFOLDS OF CREATION" HAVE GATHERED AT AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION SOMEWHERE IN "THE GLEAMING FIELD" OR THE HYPER UNIVERSE, MARVELING AT HOW MUCH EVERYTHING HAD EVOLVED EVER SINCE THEY WERE CHAINED TO THE "TREE OF LIFE" AT THE ONSET OF CREATION.

TAS UVUNGULA: So how was your trip to The Place Where It All Began, dear sister?

MERNIA: Delightful as always, dear brother! And yes, my dear son (Nature Spirit Lord Sumbuz-Tri) also sends his regards...!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: So I assume everything went well down there, sister?

MERNIA: Oh, you, heheh! You knew it as well as I did, brother!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: Please, humor us for a moment, sister?

MERNIA: (Sigh) Oh, very well...! The Dark Emperor had finally arranged to meet his estranged sister-in-law as expected, whereas Earth Maiden Senoha had saved both her beloved dad's and her affectionate lover's peace of mind but...!

ZEL-HALVEL: Is something amiss, sister?

MERNIA: (Sigh) Well no...it's just that...that Shairo had burned his bridges and that poor undeserving Humoga had to inherit all of his burdens instead...!

ZEL-HALVEL: I'm sorry to hear that, sister...!

TAS UVUNGULA: You cared too much as always, dear sister, but I don't blame you one bit...!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: I agree with you, brother. Nevertheless, our carefully laid plans have worked so far, sister!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: (Continued) We've saved XNROE from further degradation, we've made the Dark Emperor set in motion the reinstatement of the Celestial Emperor and...! (Sigh)

ZEL-HALVEL: And most importantly, we've managed to curtail that Saif Shalkanath's damaging designs--indefinitely I might add?

TAS UVUNGULA: Indeed we had, brother!

MERNIA: But what if it's still not enough, you two? For he had already absorbed too many an innocent life to free himself from his prison! Oh my dear brothers I dread to think how many more Sacred Survivors would have to lose their lives until he's...! (Sniffle)

TAS UVUNGULA: Be strong, sister! We must put our trust on His beloved "Creations" for we've already been informed of their hidden potentials--long before they even existed!

ZEL-HALVEL: Forsooth, dear sister! For we're still at an advantage as far as I can tell! I mean...!

MERNIA: (Sigh) Yes, you're right, you two...! Forsooth our business was--and forever will be--with that false deity and nothing else!

ZEL-HALVEL: While Mickey (Mind of the Creator) and his "Brother" deals with their wayward rival "The Faceless Horde" before they decided to invade that universe again! Am I right, everyone?

ENVERD KALIPOTH: Yes, which is another thing that worries me still, brother...!

MERNIA: What do you mean, brother?

ENVERD KALIPOTH: (Sigh) Despite our vast attributes dear sister, whatever "game" that The One Most High is playing will forever be...! (Sigh) Forever be beyond our understanding!

TAS UVUNGULA: Then it is wise to quit dwelling on the unfathomable, brother! Forsooth we've got work to do and we need to proceed with it post-haste! Lest...!

MERNIA: Agreed. Now let us merge our thoughts together and find out the means to maintain the continuity of Creation...!

ZEL-HALVEL: Motion seconded, dear sister!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: Motion carried...!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: (Continued) And it so happens that I've already had an idea brewing, everyone!

MERNIA: Ah! As always you're so full of surprises, dear brother!

ENVERD KALIPOTH: Don't I always, dear sister? Heheh...!

TAS UVUNGULA: Well let's hear it then, brother?

ENVERD KALIPOTH: Certainly, brother...!

FADE OUT.

THE END.

#science fiction #fantasy #cyberpunk #space opera #short story #Scaffolds Of Creation #the place where it all began #the place where it all ends #the gleaming field #original characters #original posting #looking for publisher

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i-mybrunettelady · 1 year

Note

as promised: ⏳ ⏳ for liv and ⏳ for ren, mayhaps? :D @kerra-and-company

tall kids *nods*

"Me? I don't have a lot of things to tell, honestly. I'm just a humble blacksmith for the most part. It might be the residue Legions in me, but I don't see anything special worth talking about. El says otherwise, but it's hard to resist the line of thinking sometimes.

Then again, not many people desert the Legions. And keep the name they had under them. (he taps a claw against his chin.) Name... I do think we charr, Legion charr I mean, have an interesting naming customs. I've never met another Stormbreath, even though there are dozens of Storm warbands out there.

I was almost Stormheart. My magic was in the heart of the legion's name and bond and I was its heart in a way. I rejected it, though. Out of humility. They already named themselves after my air magic. They didn't need to put the bigger target on my back. (he straightens his shoulders; they crack.) It wasn't easy, being an elementalist in the Legions. An elementalist who's half-Flame. How my dam, a full on ex-Flame, does it is something I wonder about, but I'm not Iron anymore and she doesn't talk to me.

So I chose Stormbreath. El says it has power. He says it's amazing that I can stop someone's airflow by will. I don't think it's that amazing, while not... usual by any means. It could kill a man. I don't trust my own storms. A Stormbreath who doesn't trust his own storms.

I kept it as a way of shaming myself for leaving at first. Now, it's a reminder of what I must never do to another being unless really fucking pressed. It feels nice, though. Knowing that you can."

"Again? Don't you people have enough on me? I'm also really not a good storyteller.

But non-classified information is okay to be shared, I suppose. Nosy... I'm absolutely aware how this comes across as. I'm hypocritical, not stupid. (she taps a nail against the nearest surface.) I suppose I'm not used to people knowing things about me. Haven't been undercover for years now.

One must adapt and one must overcome.

I have an atrociously foreign accent when speaking Elonian. My girlfriend tried her best to remedy that, but it's of no use. I will forever sound like I'm from elsewhere. And I am. From Triskell Quay, Kingdom of Kryta. Akila finds it endlessly amusing, of course.

Don't tell her, but her Krytan's adorably accented as well.

#gw2 #ask meme #livion stormbreath #renira sulver #nero's artsy corner #author's note: she's not really from triskell quay but that's classified for real lmao #i fully expect one of these to be: i'm a lesbian and i kissed a girl at 15 yo #for ren anyway #and also liv's narration is so straightforward and gentle it makes me really happy #gw2 charr #gw2 human

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chronometricals · 6 months

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warning for descriptions of religious trauma. I think that this post is pretty heavy, and it doesn't end on a hopeful note, so please take care.

What got me hooked on Herman Melville's Pierre early on was the description of faith deconstruction and the grief of it, particularly around books 3-5. A little context about where I'm coming from: it isn't my own experience, but due to personal circumstances, I've learned quite a bit about a particular high-demand high-control religion, and what it can be like for the people who leave it.

Here are some of the ways Pierre seemed familiar...

(My emphasis in bold.)

The face that haunts Pierre—discovering hints that what you've been taught all your life perhaps isn't true, the cognitive dissonance building

Hitherto I have ever held but lightly, thought Pierre, all stories of ghostly mysticalness in man; my creed of this world leads me to believe in visible, beautiful flesh, and audible breath, however sweet and scented; but only in visible flesh, and audible breath, have I hitherto believed. But now!—now!—and again he would lose himself in the most surprising and preternatural ponderings, which baffled all the introspective cunning of his mind. Himself was too much for himself. He felt that what he had always before considered the solid land of veritable reality, was now being audaciously encroached upon by bannered armies of hooded phantoms, disembarking in his soul, as from flotillas of spectre-boats.

Imagining that others must feel the same if they have the same information as you, but no, the dismissal, how dare you doubt your faith, the guilt of questioning what you've believed all your life, feeling alone in the journey, covering it up

'What, in heaven's name, does this mean, Pierre? Why were you so silent, and why now are you so ill-timed in speaking? Answer me;—explain all this;—she—she—what she should you be thinking of but Lucy Tartan?—Pierre, beware, beware! I had thought you firmer in your lady's faith, than such strange behaviour as this would seem to hint.'

...

Fortunately, this prolonged verbalised wonder in his mother afforded Pierre time to rally from his double and aggravated astonishment, brought about by first suspecting that his mother also had been struck by the strange aspect of the face, and then, having that suspicion so violently beaten back upon him, by her apparently unaffected alarm at finding him in some region of thought wholly unshared by herself at the time.

The internal conflict, the courage it takes to seek answers—and I thought it was especially interesting that, even this early, it's the good angel who encourages him to read, and the bad angel who tries to shut down his doubts and convince him to live in ignorance, because controlling access to information for example by labeling outside sources as evil or not to be trusted or simply insignificant is a major part of the high-demand high-control religions

One bade him finish the selfish destruction of the note; for in some dark way the reading of it would irretrievably entangle his fate. The other bade him dismiss all misgivings; not because there was no possible ground for them, but because to dismiss them was the manlier part, never mind what might betide. This good angel seemed mildly to say—Read, Pierre, though by reading thou may'st entangle thyself, yet may'st thou thereby disentangle others. Read, and feel that best blessedness which, with the sense of all duties discharged, holds happiness indifferent. The bad angel insinuatingly breathed—Read it not, dearest Pierre; but destroy it, and be happy. Then, at the blast of his noble heart, the bad angel shrunk up into nothingness; and the good one defined itself clearer and more clear, and came nigher and more nigh to him, smiling sadly but benignantly; while forth from the infinite distances wonderful harmonies stole into his heart; so that every vein in him pulsed to some heavenly swell.

The pain of coming to terms with a new reality when your faith meant everything to you

Ay, Pierre, now indeed art thou hurt with a wound, never to be completely healed but in heaven; for thee, the before undistrusted moral beauty of the world is forever fled; for thee, thy sacred father is no more a saint; all brightness hath gone from thy hills, and all peace from thy plains; and now, now, for the first time, Pierre, Truth rolls a black billow through thy soul! Ah, miserable thou, to whom Truth, in her first tides, bears nothing but wrecks!

The anger, the indignation, the resolution. But what also strikes me is that he doesn't give up completely on the idea of God; only what he now deems to be a false god.

'If this night, which now wraps my soul, be genuine as that which now wraps this half of the world; then Fate, I have a choice quarrel with thee. Thou art a palterer and a cheat; thou hast lured me on through gay gardens to a gulf. Oh! falsely guided in the days of my Joy, am I now truly led in this night of my grief?—I will be a raver, and none shall stay me! I will lift my hand in fury, for am I not struck? I will be bitter in my breath, for is not this cup of gall? Thou Black Knight, that with visor down, thus confrontest me, and mockest at me; lo! I strike through thy helm, and will see thy face, be it Gorgon!—Let me go, ye fond affections; all piety leave me;—I will be impious, for piety hath juggled me, and taught me to revere, where I should spurn. From all idols, I tear all veils; henceforth I will see the hidden things; and live right out in my own hidden life!—Now I feel that nothing but Truth can move me so. This letter is not a forgery. Oh! Isabel, thou art my sister; and I will love thee, and protect thee, ay, and own thee through all. Ah! forgive me, ye heavens, for my ignorant ravings, and accept this my vow.—Here I swear myself Isabel's. Oh! thou poor castaway girl, that in loneliness and anguish must have long breathed that same air, which I have only inhaled for delight; thou who must even now be weeping, and weeping, cast into an ocean of uncertainty as to thy fate, which heaven hath placed in my hands; sweet Isabel! would I not be baser than brass, and harder, and colder than ice, if I could be insensible to such claims as thine? Thou movest before me, in rainbows spun of thy tears! I see thee long weeping, and God demands me for thy comforter; and comfort thee, stand by thee, and fight for thee, will thy leapingly-acknowledging brother, whom thy own father named Pierre!'

The grief!! Rolled down on his soul like melted lava!!

Idle then would it be to attempt by any winding way so to penetrate into the heart, and memory, and inmost life, and nature of Pierre, as to show why it was that a piece of intelligence which, in the natural course of things, many amiable gentlemen, both young and old, have been known to receive with a momentary feeling of surprise, and then a little curiosity to know more, and at last an entire unconcern; idle would it be, to attempt to show how to Pierre it rolled down on his soul like melted lava, and left so deep a deposit of desolation, that all his subsequent endeavours never restored the original temples to the soil, nor all his culture completely revived its buried bloom.

The pain of the disillusionment!!

So that up to this period, in his breast, all remained as it had been; and to Pierre, his father's shrine seemed spotless, and still new as the marble of the tomb of him of Arimathea.

Judge, then, how all-desolating and withering the blast, that for Pierre, in one night, stripped his holiest shrine of all overlaid bloom, and buried the mild statue of the saint beneath the prostrated ruins of the soul's temple itself.

And even once you've accepted, it's not always so simple just to leave!

To a less enthusiastic heart than Pierre's the foremost question in respect to Isabel which would have presented itself, would have been, What must I do? But such a question never presented itself to Pierre; the spontaneous responsiveness of his being left no shadow of dubiousness as to the direct point he must aim at. But if the object was plain, not so the path to it. How must I do it? was a problem for which at first there seemed no chance of solution.

The stakes when your entire life, your sources of comfort and guidance, your support system, your family are built on the old world-view

Oh heartless, proud, ice-gilded world, how I hate thee, he thought, that thy tyrannous, insatiate grasp, thus now in my bitterest need—thus doth rob me even of my mother; thus doth make me now doubly an orphan, without a green grave to bedew. My tears,—could I weep them,—must now be wept in the desolate places; now to me is it, as though both father and mother had gone on distant voyages, and, returning, died in unknown seas.

The depression and loneliness... How do you move forward and rebuild, when you feel like the only one who sees?

But now the morning dawned in mist and rain, and came drizzlingly upon his heart. Yet as the day advanced, and once more showed to him the accustomed features of his room by that natural light, which, till this very moment, had never lighted him but to his joy; now that the day, and not the night, was witness to his woe; now first the dread reality came appallingly upon him. A sense of horrible forlornness, feebleness, impotence, and infinite eternal desolation possessed him. It was not merely mental, but corporeal also. He could not stand; and when he tried to sit, his arms fell floorward as tied to leaden weights. Dragging his ball and chain, he fell upon his bed; for when the mind is cast down, only in sympathetic proneness can the body rest; whence the bed is often Grief's first refuge. Half stupefied, as with opium, he fell into the profoundest sleep.

ough!!!!! it breaks my heart!

And all for love, a love which is shunned by that society, which is another thing!!!!

And that I will talk about in another post.

#herman melville #pierre #religious trauma #my posts #the first of several posts on pierre

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demonslayedher · 3 years

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I lost a bet to myself and paid the price by making another demon sibling AU. Was originally just going to be headcanons and doodles, but I wound up writing the parts I felt like. The names of Tengen's siblings are entirely made up. This will come in two parts due to length.

Clicking each bone in his spine, Yogen stood to his full height, taller than Tengen remembered. It wasn't uncommon to go long periods of time without seeing his siblings when they were on their own missions, but Yogen shouldn't had changed that much. "I'll spare you. It wouldn't do for the Uzui clan not to have a head. Now you're the strongest one."

"...Yogen..."

"I wouldn't had been able to take you on, if not for the fact that you'd never have done it if you knew. You should thank me, Aniki. You know what I've spared you? Father was going to make us all have a fight to the death. You'd have done at least half of this."

"What have you done!?"

"I ate them," he laughed, something Tengen had never heard Yogen do in his adult voice. He had the most infectious laugh when they were children, and this rang with the same pleasure, however dissonant. "I was stunned too, at first. When I came to, I had eaten two of them, they were still warm in my mouth, their cells already nourishing mine. But you know what? I decided to eat the others. I was going to kill them anyway, what difference does it make that I should eat them?"

Tengen's face pearled back into a snarl, his eyes flaring.

"One, two, three... Eizen got away before I could bite him, though. That whelp would had done nothing for me. The one I really wanted to eat was the strongest," he said, his glowing white eyes shifting down to their father's fresh corpse. "And now, even he's nothing to me."

Tengen could stand no more of this. "Yogen!!" he screamed and gripped one of the swords at his back, and charged at Yogen all in one motion. A hard sickle burst out of the flesh of Yogen's arm and caught it, but when Tengen pulled his other sword down through Yogen's shoulder and chest, the sound of ripping sinews what different than it should had been. A look over to the injury revealed that the shoulder was repairing itself before Tengen's eyes. When had he learned any technique like that?

The momentary lapse in focus caught him, Yogen swiped up against Tengen's forearm. It felt too varied to had been spiked knuckles--those were his fingertips, he had grown claws. Tengen drew a sword up to lop off Yogen's forearm, and then his brother let out a shrill scream as his features lit up and revealed how contorted they had become. Yogen didn't look human anymore with how his veins bulged and burned. Burned? From what? Tengen took a look over his shoulder to the sun rising and casting light through the wide open door, and when he looked back, Yogen was gone.

---

Tengen watched the flames consume the house and the bodies of his slain family. He had combed it for any trace of Yogen, but his brother left none. Hope though he did that the flames may consume Yogen too, he knew in his gut that he was still out there.

Behind him, Suma sneezed in a gust of smoke that wafted into her face. Hinatsuru handed her a handkerchief, as she and Makio were already covering their faces in case of poison. Tengen didn't bother, he was resistent to most ninja poisons, and the scratches down his forearm were already less swollen. "You three should go back to your homes."

"No!" insisted Suma.

"We're already members of the Uzui clan," said Hinatsuru.

"Your revenge is ours," added Makio.

Hinatsuru made the most important point, they were already seen as his property. He could hear whispers and feel them all being watched; the other ninja clans knew what had befallen the most powerful family, and the Uzui name was now shunned. Even if Tengen wanted to stay, he had no place in the village, and neither did anything that belonged to him. The only thing left for him now was to track his brother down and drag him to hell.

Someone else was approaching, and Tengen reached for one sword. Uneven footsteps. One didn't have the splat of a foot, it was the thunk of wood--a cane, or two canes? A leisurely, but determined pace. Self-assuredness, even for entering ninja territory. A robust heartbeat. Who was coming?

"Well, is that what you all look like? I feel like I've wandered into one of those storybooks," said an old man. He had one missing leg, a full head of hair and moustache to rival it, a grin, and a telltale scar lining the underside of his left eye. "I had always left your kind alone, but I couldn't when I felt the presence of a demon over here."

"Who are you?" Tengen asked, stetching one arm before his wives while the other hand stayed at his weapon.

"You didn't chop its head off, did you, ninja boy? It's long gone by now, you know. It'll hide from daylight. Be even more trouble to find if it's one of your folk."

"How do you know about us?" Makio shot back.

"How do you children not know about demons? Aye," the old man huffed to himself as he set down a stool he carried. He planted his rump on it, then folded his arms. "The name's Kuwajima Jigoro, former Roaring Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corp. I figured this would be out of your expertise, so I've come to help."

Tengen felt in his gut he could trust that. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, his wives all doing likewise behind him. Jigoro seemed to enjoy that, but insisted they do not. Instead of bowing, he'd appreciate the ladies rubbing his shoulders to display their gratitude, he said.

While Hinatsuru and Makio set about at each arm, Suma kneeled at his remaining foot with a gasp. "Aren't old people not supposed to be this beefy?"

"Can it, Suma!" chided Makio.

Hinatsuru said nothing, but could feel something was different in this man, not only in his physique. Whatever he had to say was going to change their lives more than the previous night already had. They all listened carefully as Jigoro orated about the existence of demons, how they eat humans, how they are near impossible to kill, but also the methods of those who hunt them, with specialized blades and an organization to support them. As he began describing Breath, however, Tengen stopped him. "I already know all that, that's ninjutsu basics. That's not giving me anything I don’t already have."

"Oh? I figured as much. Always made me curious about you pups. So you you've got the basics of Breath technique, huh?"

"It's beyond basic," he shot him an annoyed frown.

"I'll be the judge of that. See that tree over there? That's probably about the strength of the usual demon neck. Go hog wild on it." As much as showing off was against the ninja code, Tengen wasn't in the mood to argue and made short work of that tree, the only sound being the pop of it seperating into two halves. Jigoro gave him a clap, then stood with his cane. "Good accuracy. Spot on. Now you pick one out for me. Take some mercy, though, I'm only working at half-strength." He balanced on his foot and his peg, plopping the end of his cane in his palm to show off that he meant to use it in place of a sword. Tengen hated when other people tried to be show-offs, so he pointed to a tree a few rings thicker than the one he had cut.

The old man eyed it, then slid his good foot through the dirt, and as he leaned forward, clouds of steam rose from his lips. "Breath of Thunder, Fifth Form. Heat Lightning."

The sound hit Tengen so hard that he covered his ears, and the old man was gone--on the other side of the tree, which was not only cleanly chopped, but split itself in half vertically as it fell. A rarity, Tengen's jaw dropped. Jigoro looked back with a fierce grin, knowing he'd have left them all impressed.

Rather than one knee, Tengen planted his palms and face to the ground. "Please teach me this technique, Master."

"When did I ever say I wanted a student like you? You already said you know Breath technique, don't you?"

"You won't teach him?" Suma sat straight up, little tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I only want students with talents I can mold. You're already set your ways and would just try to make Thunder Breathing into what you want. You can't fill a full tea cup, as they say."

Tengen wanted to insist he's do anything to take his revenge, but the old man was right. As he was, he wouldn't be able to unlearn everything he always knew, it was as much a part of him as every experience and memory, like every scar, such as the ones running down his left arm.

"The true nature of Thunder Breathing would escape you, you'd get too caught up in how powerful it looks. You're too flashy!"

His cheeks flushed. "Say that again."

"You're too... flashy? I don't think a ninja should find that a compliment."

"You can't tell him all that and then not train him!" insisted Makio. "Please! There's got to be something you can do! Tengen-sama works really hard!"

"Tengen-sama works harder than anyone!"

"Please, Master. Tengen-sama can think flexibly, please give him a chance."

"I won't! I can already tell he's not the sort of student I'm looking for!" he barked back, and Suma burst out into sobs, while Hinatsuru hid delicate tears and Makio's face turned dark red. Jigoro flinched at the sight of the upset girls, then looked back to Tengen. "I--I didn't come out here to leave you high and dry, you know. I already told you about the Corp, didn't I? That's where you really need to go. I can't teach you Thunder Breathing, but if you really think you can pick up something new, there's an old scroll I've got of an off-shoot Breath. Someone like you might be able to pull it off. What do you say, ninja boy? How about I give that to you and you teach yourself Sound Breathing?"

---

From there, Tengen took much the same course as in canon. When he became a Pillar and had his meeting with Oyakata-sama, he was upfront about his reasons for entering the Corp. Oyakata-sama appreciated his frankness and assured him that the entire Corp would support him if they found any information on Yogen, but Oyakata-sama was also keen on the undercurrent of Tengen's heart; that he was relieved to leave the murderous ways of ninja, and that he wanted to live an upright life. This finally gave words to something Tengen always felt, but thought he had no right to wish for. He and his wives were moved and they swore loyalty to Oyakata-sama.

However, as time went on, there were no clues whatsoever about Yogen. Around the time they all got antsy, Makio finally couldn't stand it anymore and suggested they may never find him. "Think about it," she said. "This Corp is full of strong swordsmen. Someone might had already chopped off his head long before we got here."

While that should had come as a relief, Tengen couldn't help but find the idea frustrating. That revenge was his to take. He could think of only one person stronger than him who might had done it, so he described Yogen to Himejima one day and asked if he remembered seeing a demon like that. Himejima plainly replied that he was blind.

As they began to accept that they may never have closure, Hinatsuru proposed that they be satisfied bagging an Upper Moon. That should be enough for them to earn their peace, she said, and as much as it grinded away at Tengen's heart, he agreed.

In the course of performing Tengen's Pillar duties, they closed in on what was likely an Upper Moon in Yoshiwara. Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma slipped in, but when he lost contact, Tengen went looking for some female Corp members to sneak in and see what was up. That's when he reencountered the boy whose head he meant to spill at the last Pillar meeting, as well as his two annoying buddies. Inosuke would had been satisfyingly flamboyant, if not for the fact that he was gross. The other whelp was named Zenitsu.

"You write that 'Zen' with the kanji for virtue?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," Tengen replied, never saying anything of it ever again. It didn't take long for him to notice that Zenitsu had ears on par with his own.

The boys managed to get in, and soon the plan went awry. Tengen's first encounter with an Upper Moon broke out, and that went awry in the most horrifically flamboyant of ways. Tengen found himself unconscious, needing to stop his heart to keep the demon poison from spreading, as it was many times more potent than any ninja or demon poison he encountered before. There was fire in the wreckage nearby, he'd be consumed if he doesn't move soon. In the odd space where consciousness was returning to him, his hearing reached into a deeper plain, where he could hear the most carnal thoughts pounding though the bodies of those around him.

Tanjiro was panicking.

No scent! No scent! Upper Moon Five--where did--but--no scent! No scent!!

Tengen could hear Upper Moon Six, in both bodies, but he couldn't hear any other demon. It gave off no sound. He struggled to look in Tanjiro's direction, and was stunned by the sight of a demon partway sticking out of the shadow Tanjiro has cast, guarding Upper Moon Six with a kunai stuck in his arm.

"Sakage!" growled Upper Moon Six. That is not the demon's name. "I don't need you here! Were you intruding on my thoughts?"

"I didn't need to. I heard the cacophony from ages away. You wouldn't had seen wisteria coming anyway."

Upper Moon Six looked to the kunai, while Tanjiro panicked that the poison had no effect on the newly arrived demon.

"Quit with all the fuss. I'd appreciate it if you hurry up and silence that Pillar over there," he turned his glance to Tengen. His eyes had writing in them, but that was Yogen. "I can't be bothered."

Yogen disappeared into the shadow as suddenly as he appeared, and Tanjiro fell forward with a stumble. He'd be a sitting duck like that, Tengen had to go save him, he pushed himself off the ground to--but--but his arm was missing--the scars were torn off-----

---

Yogen had been quick to learn some of the ins and outs of being a demon, but not all the finer details. He gathered from the surrounding demons' fear of the drum demon that the "Twelve Moons" were the most fearsome demons, closest to their progenitor, but didn't those other demons notice that the drum demon couldn't stomach humans as he ate them? That demon was weak, and Yogen wouldn't stand for it. He cut off his head.

It did not kill the demon, who screamed at him with the characters "Lower Six" in one of his eyes, but he shut up quick when Kibutsuji Muzan arrived. Despite warning Yogen that this was not how fights between demons were done and he should kill Yogen for acting without permission, Muzan smilingly decided to allow it, and instructed him to absorb the former Lower Moon Six and assume his role. Muzan did not care for how Yogen's name referenced sunlight, though. He renamed him Sakage on a whim.

Sakage went on to learn very quickly how to please Muzan, and how to climb the ranks. While not immune, he could resist wisteria poison, which Muzan was more than pleased to borrow from him and see how he could try to adopt it into his own cells. Sakage could move between connected shadows, and in spying on the Corp, he picked up on the hand signs the swordsmen used and quickly deciphered them, and openly reported so to the demons that outranked him. With hearing far more advanced that his brother's ever was, he listened to the information shared between crows, piecing apart their language to the best of his understanding.

Lower Moons Three and Two later, he used his spying abilities to identify his next target: Upper Moon Five.

Gyokko was startled by the challenge, and under Muzan's gaze, he could not refuse. Sakage made short work of him, and the other Moons all felt a chill. Akaza's chill was excitement.

Akaza wasted no time in chatting up the new Upper Moon, for Sakage likewise had a stated hatred for weaklings. While Sakage did find it a bit of a bother, especially since he knew he was a long way from ever being able to pose a real challenge to Akaza, he learned that the quickest way to stop Akaza from pestering him was to spar. Akaza loved to chit-chat even while sparring, though, and this became a useful way for Sakage to catch up on a hundred years of gossip about the other Upper Moons.

While it did feel they had somewhat of a friendship, one day they got on the topic of poison. "I hate people who use poison," said Akaza, between punches. "It's as cowardly and low as you can get."

Sakage, who could create a myriad of weapons from his cells as needed and always laced them in poison, was not offended, but disagreed. "I see no problem in being effective."

This gave Akaza pause, and an uncomfortable drop in his stomach. He excused himself, and bothered Sakage not so often after that.

Muzan was typically pleased with Sakage, which made Hantengu tremble that the ambitious demon had it out for him next. When Muzan was in a foul mood after Upper Moon Six's defeat, Sakage was likewise in a bad mood for the annoyance he encountered out there, someone who should had stayed hidden away instead of bearing free his inherently show-offy personality by joining the Demon Slayer Corp, especially since he was sure to have his ears set to the ground now for any new sign of him. He was certain Tengen witnessed him. But, for as much of an insult as it was to the Upper Moons that Gyutaro let him live, Tengen wouldn't be much of a threat anymore.

Still, Sakage knew to keep his cool. He had news to report, and he was certain of his deciphering. When he declared where the swordsmith village was located, Muzan had no doubts, and sent Hantengu alone. "Now why couldn't you find that, after all this time?" Muzan smirked to Nakime. She, not being of any rank, could merely apologize. Sakage took no pleasure or pride in looking better than a peer whom he knew he was stronger than. Muzan's mood could never be sustained for long, though, and he very soon frowned back to him. "You've brought no word of the blue spider lily."

"My apologies."

"Aren't ninja supposed to have knowledge of these things? Weren't you of a high ranking clan? Go back and order them to search."

And, at that moment, a dangerous thought escaped Sakage's inner filter, it leaked though to his mind at the same moment it leaked to Muzan's: But I can't show my face back there.

The way Muzan's face bent with disgust drove more terror into Sakage than when he was still a human and first encountered the demon lord. He felt certain of a swift death, but Muzan let him be. Sakage was still too useful. But, Sakage knew he'd have to crawl back to Muzan's graces by providing something of more use to him. He had to unveil a secret of more value.

Tengen, who remained active despite missing an eye and a hand, was present at an emergency Pillar meeting. Tokito and Kanroji were bandaged up, and they recounted how the swordsmith village was attacked by Upper Moon Four. With two Pillars and a few other reliable Corp members all working together they defeated him well before daybreak, but not before discovering an ancient ability known only as "the mark."

As he was now, Tengen knew he'd never attain this. What bothered him more was how the demons found the village, so hidden that he'd have to put his mind to it to have figured out where it was. He could had resorted to old tricks to figure it out, whether that be silently tracking the smiths after their deliveries or flirting with the Kakushi, but what recourse would a demon have had?

'I heard the cacophony----'

A demon may have had ears that rivaled his own, or were better!

Feeling sure of which demon it may had been, he set to thinking of what he would do next. If the demon moved in shadow, listening for the Corps' secrets, what would be a bigger target than the swordsmith village?

Oyakata-sama!

"Uzui-san, are you alright?" asked Himejima. "You seem quiet today."

"You look pale," added Kanroji.

"I'm jealous I won't get one of those flashy marks," he lief without flaw. "We all know I can't take any demons on like I used to. Maybe I don’t belong here."

"Uzui, what sort of talk is that?" Iguro looked to him with his flamboyant dichromatic eyes wide, and brows knit tight over them. "This isn't like you."

"I've got a different sort of mission to go on, I'll see myself out. You all stay here and keep each other company discussing this."

"Then I'll excuse myself here as well--"

"Not you, you've got no excuse," Uzui forced Tomioka back to a seated position by pressing on his head.

In conducting his own investigation, Tengen set his crow to work investigating from the sky. What the crow learned, tracing a few leaks and scolding the birds involved, was that their mid-air communications may had been what spoiled the secret location. This confirmed Tengen's suspicion about Yogen's hearing. He had a feeling about some other spoiled secrets too, and in following up with Corp members involved in previous mishaps, he concluded that the secret hand signals had been divulged.

(Read the conclusion reblog here.)

#please reblog from the conclusion post thx #tw blood #tw violence #tw cannibalism

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bewareofthecrazyperson · 2 years

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Let's get some dinner

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Summary: I wrote this because of this request I got a while ago: Hi! Can I request a Sherlock x reader (a fic or headcanons, whatever you choose) where the reader is as destructive as he is? For example (and I'm not proud of this, trust me...) I've starved myself for long periods of time or randomly hurt myself, like banging my head on the wall. If you won't write this, for any reason, just let me know. Thank you so much!

Warnings: self harm, starvation, self-inflicted injuries.

Sometimes you’d get so engulfed into your work, or a case or something you were obsessing about, that everything around of you seemed to disappear. Sherlock usually had the same problem, he’d even given the ‘problem’ a name; his mind palace. And while you did not think that it was the same, John had walked in multiple times with the two of you, zoned out. If it wouldn’t be for John, the two of you would probably go on without any food for the rest of the day. Sometimes you’d go without food for more than two days, only to be reminded that you needed something in order to proces everything normally. It wasn’t that you did it on purpose. From a young age you had displayed behavior that others would deem harmful or destructive. All to yourself. And while your parents had tried multiple times to rid you of such behavior, it sort of sticked. Fortunately with some psychological help, and later on that of John and Sherlock, most of the damage would be minimal.

Besides, not eating most of the time was great for your figure.

As a young child you’d have mostly urges. To hit a wall. Or suddenly slam your head against the wall. There were other urges. More severe ones. There was one ‘accident’ with the knife. But after that you learned to suppress most urges. Neither you nor your parents ever wanted to experience that again.

Now that you were an adult, living on your own, you no longer had the supervision of your parents. You’d chosen a place in the middle of London and quickly made friends with the famous detective and his friend. They looked out for you, and in some way you did the same for them.

Most of the urges would quickly fade. And when you were near Sherlock or John, they would distract you. It was usual Sherlock who would recognize the certain facial expression you had. When you would be alone, there would be the occasional urge to slam your head. There was this one particular wall who seemed to trigger you. Which was why you’d spend most of your time in Sherlock and John’s apartment. A silent agreement the three of you had. They wouldn’t question you when you’d walk in, nor would the belittle you when you’d have one of your accidents. It was rare for John to have to patch you up. Fortunately.

And while most of the times you went along with them on cases, this time you were in your own apartment. You weren’t certain anymore why. However you had followed the case closely. Something about a killer that would only kill certain people. Most of the victims looked like you. Which was probably why neither Sherlock or John wanted you to tag alone. Afraid of the danger they might put you in.

So you decided to help them in your own way. Text certain details you had found. Or go online in order to find more information. A pattern maybe. You didn’t think about your environment, or the time. Only about the case and wanting to help out. You were kind of thirsty, however you had pushed the feeling away, not feeling the need to drink or eat. The only thing you did do, was shower when you felt like it. Just because it helped you think, before slipping back into a state of pure concentration. You were close. You could feel it. There was just one thing you were overlooking and you couldn’t stand it. You’d eat something later. Maybe tomorrow. But for now you just wanted to find the last piece of information you needed. Focussing on your screen made all the other urges disappear. Walking by the one wall did not seem to trigger anything, not with the case on your mind. The only thing you’d occasional do, was slam your knuckles on the table when you couldn’t find something.

The sudden knock on your door startled you. Bringing you back to realization. “(Y/N)?”, you heard Sherlock’s voice on the other end of the door. You hadn’t heard him come back from the case. When you glanced outside you saw that it was dark. The only light coming from outside was one of the lampposts. You moved to stand, reaching out to open the door when you realized how cramped and painful your hand was. When you glanced down you noticed the blood. shit. While Sherlock or John never berated you for your destructive behavior, you could tell that it disappointed them. So when you opened your door, you hid your hand behind of your back, flashing him a smile. “Hey there Sher. How’s the case? Any details you can share?” you stepped aside when he moved inside of your home. He glanced at you for a few seconds before taking in the room. Obviously deducting what had happened here for the past.. hours? What time was it?

“Solved it yesterday actually”, Sherlock turned around so he could look at you. Your raised eyebrow made him smile, however it was quick to fade. Had he known you were trying to solve the case as well, he would have come and visited you earlier. But he had been so busy, so occupied that when John mentioned your name earlier he realized that something was off.

Before you could speak Sherlock spoke again. Taking in your form as he explained how he had cracked the case. You groaned, slightly annoyed that the answer had been so obvious. “When was the last time you ate?” he suddenly asked, making you frown. It had been a while, you knew that yourself. And by the way Sherlock was asking it, you were certain he could tell. With your hand still ‘casually’ behind your back you stepped closer. Looking at the bottle of water next to your laptop. It was half empty. “When did we have dinner again”, it was after that when Sherlock received a text and left you, muttering about the murder. “Three days ago”, he squinted slightly at you, approaching you and putting his hand on your back so he could guide you out of your house. The tone of voice alongside with the realization that it had been three days since you ate something, made you cringe.

You could feel you stomach hurting, and while you ignored the feeling while you were alone, now that you were in the presence of Sherlock it only stung more. The fact that you did it again. Not only did you disappoint yourself, you disappointed other people by your actions as well, and that seemed to hurt more. You didn’t speak, just walked along Sherlock as he guided you in his room. John was about to greet you, but he read the grim expression on your face and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. You didn’t watch the exchange, but knew that John was quickly informed of the situation. “John, grab the first aid kid, (Y/N) seems to have hurt their hand”, Sherlock moved to his chair, watching you as he had you on his couch. You couldn’t read his emotions, however you felt scared by the way he eyed you. Your parents were sweet. They had done their best by helping you out. But in situations like this they would lose their cool. Your mom would cry most of the time, your dad would shout. Both not understanding what was going on in that head of yours.

However Sherlock was not your mom or dad. He had never raised his voice with you. “I’m sorry”, you mumbled, not wanting to speak up or acknowledge that you had done something so stupid. Sherlock had guided you to his room, because he had realized before you did, that you were to weak to move on your own. Going without food for three days had made your head fuzzy and light. John sat beside you, taking your hand so he could look at it. You did the same. Seeing the bruising, the dried up blood around the knuckles. It wasn't broken, you could tell the difference. But it was sure going to hurt for a while. John’s smile was warm. He looked tired, but he never seemed too tired to take care of you. He was too good.

Sherlock gave you a smile of his own. They were rare. But they meant a lot to you. “Let’s get you something to eat shall we?” it was late, too late to go somewhere, but not too late to order something in. While John tended to your hand, Sherlock ordered you something to eat while he discussed the case. He was curious how far you had gotten. Maybe he just wanted to see what you had came up on your own, but at the same time he was trying to understand your pattern. He had made a mental list of whatever triggered these self-destructive behaviors. He had spoken multiple times to John about you. Checking whether he was missing something just so he could help you. Knowing that his presence made it easier for you, he had no problem in taking you under his wing.

You’d felt like a freak. But with John and Sherlock near you, you knew that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #john watson #John Watson x reader #tw #tw: sh #tw: starvation #Sherlock Holmes #bbc sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock holmes x reader

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

I've Always Loved the Rain

Summary: Request! Y/N can manipulate the weather, but sometimes her emotions get the best of her. What happens when Bucky brings his girlfriend to Tony's garden party?

Warnings: nothing except some angst!

Word Count: 2086

a/n: I really did have fun writing this! Thank you for sending it my way :)

Masterlist

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Wanda's thoughts appeared in your head causing your head to snap in her direction. "You've been staring at him for the past ten minutes."

"Actually, it's only been 8 minutes. And, no. I do not plan to ever tell him because that would be wildly embarrassing, and he would hate me forever." Your own thoughts were easily heard by the witch.

Before she could try to convince you, you got up and left the living room. You and Bucky have been friends since you joined the team. Everyone, barring Bucky, has told you how you must be special because Bucky has never trusted anyone as quickly as he started trusting you.

There may have even been a point where you thought he could've possibly returned your feelings, but that was before he started dating Perrie.

"Y/N, you can't keep running away from me." Wanda called out as she approached your room.

"I'm not running. I just have get ready for Tony's party." You rolled your eyes. You've never been one for parties, but you'd rather just go than have to deal with Tony complaining about you missing it.

"Oh, you mean the party Perrie is going to?" Wanda questioned from your doorway.

"Shut up! Someone could hear you." You quickly pulled her into the room, glancing down the hall before closing the door. "I don't care that she's coming. It's fine."

"I know you're pouting, even if you refuse to look at me." Wanda obviously saw right through your bullshit.

"Wan, he's my friend. I just want him to be happy, and if Perrie makes him happy then so be it." You resigned yourself to having to watch Bucky and Perrie together. "Just, promise me you won't say anything."

You nearly begged her, knowing she didn't agree with your method of bottling everything up.

"You're my friend. I want you to be happy too." She tried to avoid your request.

"Wanda, please." You nearly had tears in your eyes. You couldn't make it through this party if Bucky knew about your feelings. "I can't think about it. Tony will kill me if I ruin his perfect weather."

You joined the Avengers after Steve and Nat found you during one of their missions. You saw the two of them trying to sneak into a hydra base, but they had no way of approaching without being spotted.

In a moment of bravery, or stupidity really it could've gone either way, you ran up to them and offered to help. You managed to create enough of a storm that they could get inside without being noticed.

When they came back out, they offered for you to join them figuring someone who could manipulate the weather would be a good teammate to have.

"Oh, Y/N." She pulled you into a hug in an effort to comfort you. "I won't bring it up, I promise." She squeezed you tightly before letting go. "Now, let's pick out an outfit that'll have Barnes regretting not asking you out."

You shook your head at her playful laugh, but agreed with her nonetheless. If this is what it took for her to stay quiet, you'd do it.

The sun was still high in the sky when you made it out to join the party. Summer nights always seemed to last forever, the sun not fully setting until nearly 9.

A few clouds dusted the sky, but Tony really did have the perfect weather for his garden party.

You looked around, trying to locate a familiar face. Finally spotting Nat and Wanda, you made your way through the gardens to greet them.

"Y/N, you look incredible!" Nat cheered as you approached.

Wanda convinced you to wear a pale purple two piece set. The classy lace outer layer of your skirt fell to mid calf, the lining ending just above your knee. The top was cropped to end mid stomach. Perfectly matching the skirt, a form fitting lining was covered in a flowy lace layer.

"Thank you. You both look amazing, as usual." Nat wore a black midi dress with a slit. Wanda opted for a flowery yellow dress with buttons up the middle.

You fell into an easy conversation, discussing anything and everything you could think of to keep your mind busy.

"Ladies, looking good!" Sam complimented the three of you as he, Steve, and Vision approached. Vision immediately swept Wanda away to dance.

"You're not so bad yourself, Wilson." You laughed. "Steve, you're very dapper this evening."

"Thank you. Care to dance?" Steve held his hand out for you. Knowing Sam was seconds away from convincing Nat to dance with him, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn't help but smile as he lead you around the dance floor Tony had set up. The party had been going surprisingly well so far.

"You really do look amazing tonight." Steve broke the silence, smiling down at you.

"You're too sweet." You brushed it off, looking over his shoulder as you blushed.

"I mean it." He spun you around, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

Your smile fell when you spotted Bucky and Perrie by the bar. He wore khakis and a pink button up, something you were certain Perrie picked out to match her pink chiffon dress.

You were shocked to find his eyes on you. He looked sort of angry, but you hadn't the slightest idea why.

"I don't know what Bucky's doing with her." Steve followed your line of sight, commenting on the couple.

"He's happy." You turned away from Bucky, heart aching just from looking at the two of them together. You tried to mask the pain in your voice, but Steve saw through it.

"He's not. He might think he is, but Perrie... she's not right for him."

"What do you mean?" You shouldn't have asked, but you craved more information about Bucky.

"She just doesn't understand him. Not like you do." Steve's words hurt you more than they helped.

"Steve, he chose her." You could feel the tears brewing. You didn't notice as the sky got darker and darker. "I have to go."

You turned to walk away from Steve and the conversation only to walk directly into Perrie.

"I'm so sorry!' You quickly wiped your eyes, avoiding the concerned look Bucky was giving you. He lightly grabbed your elbow when you tried to walk past them

"Y/N?" The way he said your name had you frozen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I, um, I have to go." You pulled your arm from his grasp, again trying to get away.

"No, Y/N-" Bucky's plea for you to talk to him was cut off by Perrie.

"James, we're supposed to be dancing." She whined, pulling on his right arm.

"It's fine, Bucky." Your face contorted into a tight smile. "Dance with your girlfriend." Your vision blurred as you tried to push your way through the crowd.

Nat found you first, pulling you off to the side of the party and gesturing for Wanda to join you both.

"Y/N, what happened?" Natasha tried to coax any bit of information out of you. You ignored the question, focusing instead on trying to control your tears.

Your powers, although you could mostly control them, were tied to your emotions. If what you were feeling manifested itself in the weather, it was almost impossible for you to regain control.

One tear finally fell from your eyes, a matching raindrop falling from the sky.

"Y/N? Why don't we go inside?" You managed a nod, breaths coming out shaky as you tried not to completely lose control.

You were only a few steps from the main entrance to the gardens when everything fell apart.

"Y/N?" Bucky called from a few feet behind you.

Just the sound of his voice caused the delicate balance you had achieved to shatter.

Your tears overflowed, thunder cracking in the sky. The thought of ruining Tony's part only made you cry harder.

The rain fell fast and heavy instantly soaking everyone outside. You stayed frozen, listening as everyone shrieked and ran to get out of the rain.

"You guys should go inside." You spoke softly to Nat and Wanda, gesturing for them to go without you.

"Are you sure?" Nat looked past you at Bucky before meeting your eyes again.

You nodded. "I mean, I'm already soaked." The rain continued to fall mixing with the tears on your cheeks.

They each gave you a quick hug before running to get inside.

"Y/N?" Bucky called again when you still hadn't turned around.

You took a deep breath trying to prepare for this conversation before you turned to face him. He was soaked, his hair sticking to his face despite his efforts to push it off.

"I'm sorry." You whispered so softly, you weren't even sure he could hear it over the rain.

"Don't do that." Bucky shook his head.

"What?" You scrunched your face in confusion.

"Apologize for your feelings." He spoke gently as he walked up to you.

You huffed a laugh. "Well, I was more so apologizing for the rain."

"I've always loved the rain." He shrugged, turning his head up to the sky. He stayed like that for a minute just letting the rain wash over him.

"I think I've always loved you." More tears fell as you admitted the truth. You closed your eyes in an effort to hide from his reaction.

"Y/N, look at me." Bucky pleaded, but you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and shook your head.

"Y/N, please." His hand came up to rest on your cheek, the other resting on your waist. He ran his thumb back and forth over your cheek coaxing you to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open despite your best efforts to keep them closed. You had to blink a few times to clear the raindrops from your eyelashes.

"I love you too."

You searched his eyes for any signs that he was lying, but all you could find was sincerity.

"What about Perrie?" You couldn't help but ask, even if you'd rather forget about her entirely.

"I broke up with her the second she whined about me trying to make sure you were okay."

"You broke up with her because of me?" Your mouth fell open, eyes trained on Bucky's. He nodded sheepishly, but maintained eye contact.

"You're the most important person in the world to me. I probably should've realized what that meant sooner." He looked down, a pink tint blossoming on his cheeks. "She was actually the one who pointed out to me that I'm in love with you..."

"She said that?" Your jaw dropped even farther.

"Yeah. It was really Steve agreeing with her that clued me in though."

"You really love me?" You felt the need to verify what you had already heard. The rain lessening to a slight drizzle went unnoticed by both of you.

"I really, really do." He still held your face in his hand, now leaning his forehead against your own.

"Say it again." You whispered.

"I love you." He said the words quietly, but the meaning behind them was deafening.

"I love you too."

Your lips collided in a passionate kiss, years of hidden emotion coming out.

The rain clouds disappeared entirely, the sun set now visible in bright shades of pink and orange.

You finally pulled back when the need for air overcame your need for Bucky.

Your smile faded slightly, eyes showing a slight fear. Bucky noticed immediately, his own nerves growing.

"What's wrong?"

You gestured to the now empty gardens.

Aside from everything being soaked, the wind did a number on the decorations. Tables and chairs were overturned, plates and glasses smashed on the ground. The lanterns that had been hung were now strew across the ground in various states of destruction.

"Tony's going to be so mad at me!"

"He'll forgive you." Bucky stated with confidence.

"How can you be so sure?" You eyed him with furrowed brows, still nervous about facing Tony.

"He's forgiven worse, Doll. Trust me." Bucky eagerly awaited the moment you understood what he was saying.

Your eyes went wide, mind blanking on how to respond. That is, until Bucky smiled brightly at you.

"You've always told me joking about it can help. Figured I'd give it a try."

The two of you burst out laughing before slowly making your way inside, hand in hand and soaking wet.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky one shot #request

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stcveskent · 3 years

Text

their little miracle; chris evans

pairings: chris evans x reader

warnings: fluff and a bit of swearing

request on wattpad

_____

its been 8 months,since you heard that you would be giving a little miracle of yours and chris, soon. You still remember the day when both of you saw the baby for yhe first time, as it moved around your belly.

you remember how Chris held your hand when he saw your baby, and said, "it's ours" while crying, you remember the day when he found out it was a baby girl, and he was so happy, and when he told his family about it, they were crying too, because their son's dream came true. Since then he never left your side. Well, he haven't announced it on the internet too . He used to talk to your baby, late at nights, when she won't let you sleep, by endless kickings.

"Hey honey, don't do that to Mama." He says, slowly, and calmly as you laid down next to him, and his hands on your belly rubbing it gently.

"I won't leave your side, y/n." He whispered softly and kissed you. During those times, when Chris got intimate with you, for eg, he would kiss you more often, and lay next to you all the time, hold your hands all the time, you used to blush alot, as if it was a school crush, you could say it was the hormones.

"i love you so much." He says and you smile.

"I love you too and more." You reply and he wraps his arm around you, and kiss your head, and then you gasped as soon as your baby kicks you, because you were giving all the attention to her daddy and not her and even daddy didn't give her attention.

"alright baby, i love you too." He says as he keeps a hand on your belly and you laughed at how your daughter already had control over her Dad, even before her birth.

your smile grew wider, as all those thoughts came to your mind, and Chris noticed how you were smiling, and thinking about some things. He smiled looking at how adorable you looked.

"what're you smiling at, sweetheart." He asks as he comes closer, and kisses you gently.

"thinking of how our girl, already has control over her dad." He smiles as he heard you, it was a very different feeling for both of you.

"Well, trust me, the queen has more control than the princess." He says referring to you and you roll your eyes.

"oh stop!" You said as both of you chuckled, just then, to ruin the moment his phone rang. He groaned, and you laughed at him.

"Always messing up my moments, with my queen." He said, and you blushed at how he made you feel so good.

"Chris, i'm sorry to call you now." His manager spoke, as chris answered.

"No its fine, Joshua? what did you need?" He replied.

"Well, the agency has been calling up alot, for your photo shoot, and i tried to decline it, because you wanted to stay with your wife, but they aren't listening , and said you're their hope."

"alright fine! I'll do it."

"ah thank god!! I'll arrange the dates and timing and inform you."

"Alright!" Chris says as he ends the conversation and looks at you, smiling.

"What's wrong?" You asked

"I have to stay away from you for a couple of hours."

"and what would be the reason?" You asked as he sits next to you and pull you closer to him, and you put your head on his shoulder.

"There's this photo shoot they need me to do it and I honestly don't wanna stay away from you, even if its for a couple of hours, you're now close to your date, I can't just leave you here all alone, when you'd need me." He spoke.

"Chris, i'll be fine, you're worrying too much, babe. I can manage on my own, honey!"

"I know you can, i just don't want to be away from you and our daughter." You smiled as he said that, how your daughter's and his bond was so strong.

"babe!!" You squeeled and hugged him and he kissed you multiple times. Just then the phone rings and he groans again.

"Its the agency, i'll have to take it, i'm so sorry!!"

"Its fine, honey." You said and he answered the call, going into the living room to talk while you watched some TV

"Thank you so much, Chris for joining us!" He said and chris smiled.

"The pleasure is all mine!"

"Is there any arrangements we can do for you?" Just as those words left his mouth, he smiles thinking of an idea.

"Yes! Could i get my wife with me? I want her to be next to me."

"Ofcourse sir! It's our pleasure to have her with us, and we can have some couple photoshoot too!"

"Thank you! See you, soon!" He says and walks to you.

Chris comes back to you and tells you that he's made arrangements for you to come with me, you denied at first but he made you to agree to it, typical christopher and then the day comes when you had to go with him. You were nervous about something which he had completely forgot about. Announcing about your little miracle.

As soon as both of you entered, the photographers welcomed you both so warmly, and as expected they were shocked by the news, and they were happy for both of you.

As soon as chris finished his part of the work, you two had to pose together, it was all cute with him, and then the photographer requested that you should have a photo or two of your own with your bump and Chris happily agreed to it.

Just after you completed your work, you told Chris, that now seems to be the right time to tell everyone about it. No , only family and some of his close friends knew about this, so he was just concerned about how his fans and co workers would annouce, but you knew things would fall back into a perfect position.

"I posted it." He said and breathed.

"i did too!" You said and smiled.

Just a second later, yours and his phone were filled with notifications, hundreds to thousands, and all were really happy about it, because all of them understood that this was Chris's dream and you could only turn into his reality.

a week or two has passed, Chris had to go through a lot of press , and interviews where the main interest was your pregnancy. As you waited for him to get over with the last interview for the month, and after that he promised he'd take a break, he comes to you.

"How was it?" You asked as he kissed you and sat next to you.

"It was good, i was happy to tell them, how you made me happy, and they obviously wanted you, but i said you were resting."

"Thank you —*gasps* oh shit!" You said and his eyes came out if his eye sockets.

"Baby what happened?!"

"She's coming omg!! My water broke!!!" You said and he panicked, he was roaming around the house finding the baby bag, and you felt contractions, which were going on for a day which you tried to ignore.

"Chris where the fuck are you?!" You yelled, as the contractions hit you again.

"I found it!! Let's go." He said as he helped you get up and rush you to the hospital, through out the ride he didn't leave your hand, and just made you breathe, but it was true, when you're about to give birth, your temper loses, and poor Chris had to listen.

Now you were in the waiting room, with him and yours and his family started to visit you both.

"Hey!" Your mom said and rushed to hug you as you breathed.

"Hey Mom! I'm good? Are you?" You asked and she laughed at you.

"I know, the temper, i gave birth to three kids!" She said and hugged Chris, and he chuckled and stopped as soon as you gave him a death glare.

"come on! my little girl needs a break, how are you feeling honey?" Your dad says and you roll your eyes.

"P A I N!" You said and then your siblings laugh at you.

"Y/n , for real, you need to calm down, also guess what i already have done half of the preparations for my niece!!" your brother says while your sister argues with him that it was she who did it, and that made you laugh, and Chris smile looking at you.

His mother stayed longer with you but then you told her to go, because she looked tired, and she agreed, time passed and you were ready to deliver the baby, Chris started to breathe heavily, he was nervous, more than you.

"Its gonna be fine, babe!" You said and he nods

"I'll be next to you the whole time." He says and you nod.

Slowly the doctors start to give you instructions to how to push till they count till 10 and you agree to it, clearly understanding their instructions.

"Push!" They said and you pushed while your groaned and your grip on chris's hand tightened.

"You're doing amazing honey!" He encouraged and honestly, that made you stay strong till the end.

Just few more pushes later, the cries of your baby girl were heard and you sighed as both of you burts into tears. They laid your little miracle on top of you as Chris adored both of you, he starts to wipe his tears, and the doctor takes your little girl away.

"No where are you taking her!" Chris says and you chuckled at him.

"they're cleaning her, she'll be back soon, with us." You said and he looked at you with a smile.

"You did so good today!" he says and you smiled at him.

"It wasn't possible without you." You said and he shook his head.

"You're the most strongest women i've ever seen, and how beautiful you look today! Your glowing baby!" He says and you laugh as he pressed his lips onto yours in a sweet and filled with love kiss.

"I love you so much." He says

"I love you more!" You reply and they bring the baby back to you, and Chris holds her, tears falling from his eyes, as he met his daughter.

"She's so beautiful just like her Mama!" He says and you feel your tears falling.

"Daddy loves you and your Mama so much! He'll do everything to protect both of you!" He says as he holds her in his arms and kisses her multiple times on her head.

"Okay now, Mama also needs attention!" You said and he laughed and kissed you again, and just then you met your family, already waiting and excited to greet their grand child, neice and goddaughter.

Yours and Chris's mother couldn't hold back tears and were crying with joy, while Scott hugged you and cried and you were crying because he was crying , which made everyone laugh and later Scott Shanna, Carly and your siblings already started giving suggestions for the baby names for your little miracle.

It was the best day of your life, you for the first time witnessed how one life can bring so much happiness to so many people, and you were only concerned about your husband, who was on cloud 9 because of his happiness and you couldn't stop smiling because of him. You won't be able to forget this day ever!

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done with your request!!hope you liked it❤️

also, but Daddy!Chris is making me cry😭😭

#andy barber #andy barber fluff #andy barber smut #chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers and reader #nomad steve x you #chris evans angst #chris evans x reader #steve rogers angst #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff

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