#yes i consider the internet a form of a home
Text
KÖNIG HC’S FOR MY KÖNIG GIRLS.
- I HC him as being definitely taller than your average man, but not his fanon height. Many people go with the narrative that he’s 6’10/2m 08cm’s, for what I understood this is a made up data, nowhere is it specified that he’s actually 6’10, so what I actually assign him is a height of 6’7, we know how Ghost is somewhere between 6’4/6’5 which it’s still pretty tall (1,89 cm), but we also know by comparing the models, that König is a bit taller, so I am kind of basing his height on this difference between him and Ghost. Also, knowing he could not be a sniper because of his height motivates me even more to think that he is indeed a guy bigger than your average. Again, it’s a personal HC, may or may not be shared, it’s not a canon attribute.
- As I already specified in some of my other posts, I view him as a clean individual, in a sense than he has a routine and will try to maintain it even on duty. Being at the barracks will not obstruct his routine, he washes his hair with shampoo and conditioner, he uses a particular face soap, made for his type of skin, and he uses body lotion instead of a bar of soap. It has to be said that he wasn’t always this organized, for example, thanks to you he got to buy the face wash that he now brings everywhere he goes, you kinda talked to him about using a bar of soap for all the body and explained to him how unhygienic was to use the same towel for face, body and cock/ass, because despite you being ‘clean’ after the shower, you’re still dragging bacteria form around your body onto your face and hair, overall you kinda motivated him to uplift his already good habits. He sometimes lets you do his skincare too, and when he remembers, he will actually put some face cream on. He’s still a bit fearful of coming as not very masculine, but you’re making him work on it, so he can accept that taking care of himself will never be a turn down for you, not when he’s already so hot for his age, he better maintain himself!
- Another critical point about our Köni is his age. We have a vague idea of how old he could be, many HC’ing him from 35 to late 40’s. My guess is he could be somewhere between 38 and 43, I do prefer him as a 39/40 years grandpa tho. Again, personal HC, do not take it as canon! I’d be happy honestly if they would reveal his age, probably because no matter what, I’d still simp even if he turned out to be 50 years lmaooooo.
- Yes, he does come from a village in the country side, but he did join military pretty young, so I HC him as being actually a pretty open minded individual. Remember he gets to work with technology every day, he knows what’s going on around the world, and him joining young actually was a benefit, because he got to form his own opinions in a place that welcomed every kind of human beings. He didn’t get to grow up from the hate he received at school so he kind of escaped a life where he could’ve easy became what we call an inc€l today. He grew some balls, got his priorities right. He was for sure subjected to some kind of morally wrong opinions that grew into him, that’s why you’re spending time on him, being patient and trying to explain to him many things he considered undeniable reality until he meet you. The classic ones are: males should not cry because only girls do, women can work but they would be better at home, men don’t pay attention to their physical appearance that’s for feminine boys, and many similar things. He’s slowly getting out of his habits, and you’re proud of him.
- Listen, people have mixed feelings about this one but imma say it, aside from shipping and all, König is not and will never be Homophobic. He does not have any problem with lgbt+ nor is he disturbed by couples openly showing affection in his presence. Early access to internet and a very religious family could have created the worst possible outcome for him, but he was never big into religion, already redeeming it a waste of time at a young age, but still attending church because of his mom. He knows some recruits are openly gay, he doesn’t see a problem nor does it bother him knowing he could be someone’s crush. Now I do HC him as completely straight, but again it’s MY way of imagining König, I still think that in an orgy or threesome with reader, if he trusts the other male part, he would not be against having their cocks in the same hole, rubbing against each other, or in general he would not be against having some skin to skin contact with another male because at the end he does it because it only benefits you.
- He is a perverted dog, not only because he is ‘old’ and has fucked young girls (not minors! He is not morally fucked up like that), or generally his sexual history is pretty normal for a man that age, he was just always eager to see, learn and search for what he felt was exciting to him. He had threesomes before us, he has sex, he did many things that gave him the skills and experience he’s been using on us, but yes overall I HC him as being the one that always had a porn journal under his pillow, he would even lend them around the barracks.
- He loves pussy. He eats it for HIS own pleasure okay? He would die between your legs. He cums only by eating you out. He gets drunk on pussy. Pussy is what he lives for. He’ll never die on field, living purely out of spite, because he’ll no! What do you mean he’s never gonna enjoy your pussy again if he dies! ABSOLUTELY NOT! He’ll get home, beaten, cut, stabbed, whatever, but he’ll be home to you, and he will lick your pussy for the rest of the night saying “this what’s keeping me alive honey”. And truth is you can’t deny it to him, because it’s so good, no matter the circumstances, it always brings him back home.
144 notes
·
View notes
Text
Abbott Elementary - Having a second baby with Melissa Schemmenti (Headcanon)
Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader
Classification: Fluff, Angst
Warnings: High-risk pregnancy, slight smut reference
Word count: +4100
Part One | Part Two (soon)
- The idea of a second baby wasn't in your original plans and both of you are so caught up in being first time mothers that at no point does it cross your mind, but surprisingly it does Melissa's mind. During Luca's one-year anniversary party she comments on how only one of them doesn't seem enough, a thought that returns in the quiet of the night a couple of weeks later after she watches you breastfeed your son while she reads him bedtime stories. The feeling of domesticity and joy doesn't leave her mind, so the redhead knows she definitely wants to have a second Schemmenti baby;
- She is a little nervous to bring up this topic, after all, you did it the first time and there is a background of fear that she is burdening you with the desire for another baby so early, LuLu is still between comings and goings in weaning, now he can run, speak small sentences and has the whole process of defraying the child, in addition to the routine of working mothers, the ups and downs that can yield a great night's sleep or a next day with an extra dose of caffeine. However the idea of your children being close in age and being best friends speaks louder, scenarios are formed of you walking with them, how Luca would be with his younger sibling, etc;
- This is what the teacher keeps in mind as a source of courage to bring up the topic while you are doing the nightly routine, she has all the pros and cons on the tip of the tongue, presenting everything eagerly, if she had given you time to speak she would have heard a simple "Yes, I do!", which happens after half an hour of speech;
- LuLu is about to complete his third semester of life when you finally make a first attempt after going through the whole process of hormones, consultations and procedures again. There aren't many expectations considering that the happy news of the coming of the firstborn came only on the third attempt and you thought you would have to go through the whole emotional roller coaster of negatives because unlike the previous pregnancy there was no nausea, swelling, mood swings and period came down before the 14 days to take the test. But one day before the boy's first daycare presentation you felt sick while Mel was helping him practice the dance, holding on to a thread of hope you do a pharmacy test, not believing the results, another four are done, and finally a call to the obstetrician because you don't understand the lack of symptoms, finding out it's normal to still have periods in the beginning. You let a tear of joy fall, the Schemmenti family is growing;
- The next day you suffer trying to hide the excitement and after leaving work early do a blood test, just confirming the pregnancy. It's too much to keep to yourself, you can't wait to tell your wife and almost cry while watching your son dancing in a lion costume, reminding you how small and cute he still is, realizing that soon there will be another one, if fate decides another mini Melissa. And he seems to feel, as some theories on the internet say, suddenly running up to you after the presentation, not wanting to leave you until arriving home and when the redhead realizes she starts joking about it (because she is the favorite so far), at the same moment you throw into the air any plans to make an elaborate surprise, mentioning that babies feel when their moms are pregnant again. She can barely contain emotion as she hugs you, thanking you for the family you are giving her, and Luca, even not knowing exactly what it means, is the "big bwudda";
- Then you have to explain to him in a ludic way about how the family would grow and soon there would be a baby, which you represent with a teddy bear, the boy doesn't understand the concepts very well, but seems like a good thing so he smiles joining in the cheer, which you understand as a good sign while hugging him lovingly;
- It was just finding out about the pregnancy that the baby started to show it was there, in the first trimester morning sickness hits you one to three times during the day, more than in the other pregnancy, in compensation there are fewer trips to the bathroom, nausea is selective to very sweet or strong smells, contradicting all the maternity books you feel more energetic and to everyone's delight you don't reject any food, in fact your appetite increases, your wife constantly feeds you, happy to say you eat for two;
- Barb is the first to know, even before the Schemmenti family, and it's LuLu who unwittingly tells her about the pregnancy. It's one of the Friday dinners you have with the Howard couple, the boy is on her lap eating some tortellis when Gerald talks about his older brother, the wife getting excited about some story about the same and of course your son was jealous of that, trying to get her attention back to himself, so he lets out the news excitedly "I'm a big bwudda!". The table goes silent and the best friends stare at each other, Gerald stares at you, then everyone stares at Luca and you sigh, trying to explain that the plan was to tell them in a different way, standing up to show the little 10 week bulge. The couple rushes to congratulate you, hugging your family ecstatic and happy to be a part of this new phase, just as Melissa was with them when they had Taylor and Gina;
- The next to know were your family members, you waited until the first trimester to tell them considering it was safer due to the possibility of miscarriage in this period. First is your family and then the Schemmenti, they can't believe that their daughter is giving them two grandchildren in a row when they had already given up on having just one come from her, so no surprise that her mother cries with happiness when she receives a cardigan and crocheted little shoes, while her father receives a mini Philadelphia Phillies uniform printed with the number 9, along with a note saying that now he has a baseball team (his favorite sport) of grandchildren. There are lots of hugs, kisses, expert parenting advice and a new trip through the photo album, now focusing on your wife with the siblings, especially with Kristin Marie because they are for sure the most chaotic duo and have the best photos, LuLu loves to see everything pointing out who is who repeating with Nonna;
- Kristin only gets a t-shirt written "Worst Auntie" thrown at her, it's kind of fun to watch the two insult each other and the blonde dropping the worst stuff about Melissa while telling you to pray that the child, who she already calls Gizmo #2, isn't born identical. Like the fact that her sister threw a chair at her before they turned 10. And the fact that she lives covered in bites in the shared nursery. This is confirmed by their mom. A week later she is proudly wearing the t-shirt while Luca wears a small one with "Worst Nephew" written on it, which she herself ordered to match. Melissa's nightmare becomes more and more reality, the two are joined at the hip, after all, they are two Gremlins;
- The team is not so surprised by the news, living with you every day they notice little signs that remind them of the first pregnancy, the limitations, the nausea, the glow and all the extra care that Melissa has around. On your day off you show up at school, your son in one arm and a box of decorated cupcakes in the other, you are wearing a light and loose dress, like the other clothes for keeping the pregnancy hidden. She approaches and scolds you for carrying so much weight, which is contraindicated by the doctor, how it can harm you and the baby as well, Barb joins in and the two of them make you sit in the common room waiting for the rest of the staff. They soon show up, without any surprise going to attack the box, except for Gregory, and open big smiles when seeing the theme of the decoration. Janine is the first to run to hug you, followed by Jacob and then the rest of them in a big group hug, all joking as they already knew;
- As soon as she found out that you are pregnant, the redhead bet the baby's gender, being absolutely sure that you are having a little daughter, she always uses the fact that the Schemmenti have a good intuition and are good at betting in her favor. LuLu seems to agree. This time you also enter the bet, believing faithfully that you will have another boy, just like Mr. Johnson, Gregory and Barb. Alongside Melissa are Janine and Jacob, Ava is the one who mediates the bet. And she is the one who is responsible for the revelation for the matter of impartiality, at 16 weeks the gender can finally be seen in an ultrasound, the result is passed to her. It's a weekend event, all of them and family members are gathered in the home garden, each one is dressed in the color of their bet, you look anxiously at the big balloon (which may be filled with light green = boy or lilac = girl) that Ava is carrying and you choke with surprise when your son approaches with the little plastic fork, poking the latex with curiosity. Dust falling on both of them, leaving him covered in lilac. Mel got it right... again;
- She is called "Tesoro", "Piccola", "Dolce" and "Cara Mia", all nicknames in Italian referring to how small and calm the baby is, almost no trouble at all, delicate face and fingers whenever appearing on the ultrasound, the little girl doesn't step on your internal organs that often and seems to sleep most of the time. She is also her "Sweetheart", this seems to be the favorite because even though your daughter is calm she has temperamental days and your back suffers the consequences for the change of mood, being called by her Mama like this seems to be the only thing that makes her stop moving;
- Music is another thing that calms her down, while Luca liked to listen to children's books and long talks, she likes music, any kind of music that Mel, and only Mel, sings makes her a good girl for the rest of the day;
- The second trimester starts out peaceful, she doesn't show up as much as her brother did and you still don't have to change clothes sizes, even though you eat twice what you did before, with a great appetite that extends to the beginning of strange cravings, a preference for sour and crunchy things, sometimes mixing both, luckily this seems to make the nausea cease. There is still some dizziness, headaches and although not gaining as much weight you feel the legs are swollen. Emotions stabilize after weeks of mood swings, libido increases, you become more physically affectionate. The breasts increase significantly and this is Melissa's doom, you catch her staring at them brazenly many times, after the initial shyness she asks to touch them too, barely being able to hide how this excites and delights her;
- She knows very well how stretch marks from giving birth can still bother you, so imagine how much you suffer in anticipation with the body changes happening, before it starts to bother you more or make you feel insecure the redhead shows up at home with a dozen specific body creams for stretch marks and massage. You try to argue that these marks only appear in the third trimester, without success, she argues how prevention and moisturizing the skin are great allies for when this moment arrives, but you both know it's just an excuse for her to give you long and tender massages;
- Of course you have experienced the effect of pregnancy on your sexual life before, when you were expecting Luca you barely had sex for months and when it happened was just intense. But this time your libido is at an all time high, every massage or simple touch can make you extremely excited. Melissa is more than happy to satisfy your desires, even if it means morning sex for a whole week or you waking her up in the middle of the night to tell that you are too horny and want her to work it out;
- This is what goes through her mind when you wake her up in the middle of the night, instinctively turning to kiss you and green eyes twitching in confusion at the sight of the scared expression on your face, pointing to the sheets where a bloodstain is forming between the legs. She gets up waking up immediately, looking for warm clothes and towels to take you to the hospital, Barb and Gerald arrive in less than 15 minutes to stay with Luca, the great friend praying for you the second you walk out the door, your wife having to practically carry you as the abdominal and lower back pain is too much to handle. Neither of you cry on the quick car ride, but Melissa tries to reassure you that everything will be okay, that the daughter is strong, words she herself tries to believe struggling not to let fear and panic take over her as well. She wants to be strong for you. When the nurses rush you to the emergency room, she lets her tears come out;
- After a series of exams, which the teacher accompanies without letting your hand go, the doctor reassures you that it is not a miscarriage, as everyone feared when they saw your situation, but that you have a high risk pregnancy due to preeclampsia that developed from the fourth month on, which you didn't even realize, thinking that the occasional dizziness, headaches and swelling were part of the package. This condition provide high risks for placental abruption, the cause of the pain and bleeding. She ends by saying how lucky you are that it was a minor episode, otherwise there would have been a high possibility of losing your baby girl, which she calls a miracle;
- From this moment the pregnancy is treated as high risk, besides the complications of the condition there is the constant danger of a very premature birth that would put both of your lives at risk, medications are administered to prevent contractions and the worst from happening. A birth plan is drawn up in which the priority is that you carry the baby the longest time your body allows. Just the idea and all the complex medical terms scare you to death, Melissa is freaking out inside and as much as she tries to hide you feel it in every touch or word, she is 10x more delicate and protective than she ever was before;
- Your diet is completely adapted with low salt and foods that do not contribute to the increase in blood pressure, you have to measure pressure every day to check if it is under control, after all, the only cure is childbirth. She is super supportive and shares the same meals, no matter how much both hate it because you are used to heavy and full of spices dishes. LuLu is the only one who continues to eat normally, with a lot of tantrums he refuses to eat the same thing, but deep down you know that your wife helps him to finish the dish, the intention is what counts;
- And the main recommendation is absolute rest, it drives you completely crazy, not for having to stay in bed most of the time or sitting outside, but for Mel watching you like a hawk 24/7. She accompanies you to all the appointments, monitors the medication, gives you massages every night, makes sure you don't make any unnecessary effort, that you get all the love and care. Melissa becomes more protective than ever and does everything to make sure you are well, the first thing is to convince you concentrate exclusively on taking care of yourself and focus on the pregnancy, which makes you a full-time housemom/housewife, without the housework part. Do you want to mop the floor? She can do it while you sit in the armchair. Luca is running around the house having a tantrum? Don't stress, she can handle it. If you asked the moon, be sure that she would give it to you, symbolically or otherwise. She is a naturally overprotective person with those she loves, but when you got pregnant with LuLu you saw the worst side of this trait, which only got worse with the second pregnancy. The redhead is clearly stressed, not surprisingly as a working mom and wife, added to the fact that she won't let you do anything to help;
- This situation only improves when you reach seven months, which was almost impossible according to the doctors' expectations, you have a history that only contributes to negative predictions, the previous birth having been premature too, even if only by two weeks, preeclampsia and placental abruption are the triad of your risky pregnancy. Melissa lies down next to you after her biweekly appointment, head resting gently against your 28-week belly, she mentally notes that she still has to do a nightly massage, but the tiredness is just too much. Sleep almost takes over until she jumps up when feels something, the always calm and quiet little girl kicks for the first time, right in her face. It's not very strong, just enough for both of you to feel and see the small foot move against skin, it's frighteningly enchanting for both of you, she is so involved that even forgets to record it immediately, finally managing to record a few seconds of movement. Of course the baby had moved several times before, but never kicked like this, it's as if she wants to reassure her moms that everything will be okay. This is the first time in months that you sleep peacefully and well;
- Luca didn't understand what being pregnant and being a big brother meant until the beginning of the last trimester, right after his two year old birthday. At the party Sofia's mother, the girl who is his best friend and also second cousin, shows up at the party with a baby in arms, he had seen her pregnant with a huge belly and suddenly the dots connected in his little childish mind. You are going to have one of those smaller creatures and he cried a lot during the event in realization feeling deceived, he really believed that you were going to give him a teddy bear, explaining why he constantly asked about when the baby was going to come home. What you do the next day, a small bribe to explain to him again about the baby sister's arrival, LuLu is a little upset about having to share moms with someone else, but soon cheers up when you talk about him having someone to play and make a mess with every day;
- The little girl will have her own room, initially you thought of making the siblings share the nursery, but you gave up after Kristin Marie's revelations and the possibilities of them disturbing each other's sleeping routine, it also seems easier to take care of them separately. The extra room, for a long time used as storage for the hundreds of toys and educational supplies, is soon renovated, her cousins assume the function, giving you a lilac room, the furniture is in gray and Ipe wood, a large closet full of clothes you bought and won. Just like the firstborn's, there is no specific theme chosen. Days later you realize that some stuffed animals have disappeared from his room, the search for the lost toys leads you to the newly assembled nursery where most of them are, lying around, sloppily decorating the lower shelves, and the one you gave him for birthday is in the crib. "My sissy gonna like Romy!" Luca says excitedly pointing to the bunny, which has been named Romy. You and Melissa face each other, a big tender smile, deeply touched by the cuteness and lovability of your son, delighted at how he is going to be a good big brother;
- You read dozens of name idea books, in the end being between Carina and Olivia, the first considered for the meaning "Pure, Beloved" and Olivia for being a name Mel has always liked, plus it means "Peace". As a good big brother, LuLu wants to be part of the choice of his sister's name, upon hearing the options he immediately falls in love with Olivia. Little hands touch your belly lovingly as he talks to her, calling her Liv all the time, because he can't speak the whole name, and asks if sissy Liv, as he now calls her, can hear him, she kicks against the little hand as an answer. He stands delightedly celebrating and when you look to the side you find your wife in tears watching their interaction;
- Olivia's entire pregnancy was a big roller coaster, no matter how much you planned the process in anticipation everything seems to have gotten out of hand in many ways, she was an initially asymptomatic baby, had a disastrous baby shower, then the development of preeclampsia and the placental abruption that scared you to death, from that point on there was so much worry that you almost forgot to enjoy the pregnancy. Of course she would make her arrival another scary roller coaster ride. The day after you are completed 33 weeks of pregnancy and the day before the appointment with the obstetrician you feel a pain so intense that you can hardly get out of bed, the redhead immediately comes to rescue. Everything is very fast, she runs around the house gathering items and Luca on the way to take you to the hospital, first leaving the child with the grandparents, before you notice you are already in the hospital bed with the doctor saying that labor is too advanced to be delayed. Liv decided this is a good day to come into the world;
- Melissa holds your hand the whole time and says a hundred encouraging words, trying to reassure you that everything will be okay, it's almost 8 intense hours of powerful contractions and lots of swearing until dilation allows you to have the baby. You've had a baby before, taken classes, already knew what to expect and you're still scared at the moment of pushing, a hundred possibilities running through mind while the nurse tells you to push again. Your wife looks you in the eye, a proud smile on the face and whispers "You can do it Amore mio, she's almost here, just one more...", this gives you the strength to keep facing the fear and pain. Minutes later she kisses your forehead telling you how proud she is when you both see the little human in the doctor's hands, but the happiness is immediately replaced by extreme worry, there is no crying, no movement and the staff moves to do the Apgar score on the newborn, you are freaking out inside waiting for someone to tell what is going on. Soon the nurse appears with the little bundle of joy wrapped in a blanket and a smile on her lips, you and Melissa look at each other relieved;
- There is a reason why the birth was so exhausting for you and worrying for the doctor, why she didn't even cry, Liv literally was born sleeping, making absolutely no effort to help you through the process. Which is a reason to laugh after all the tension. The little girl is so small, calm and fragile that you are too afraid to touch her. Olivia Ann Schemmenti came into the world at 6pm, just one month after her brother's birthday, 4 pounds and 17 inches consistent with prematurity, a copy of you with Melissa's eyes, the opposite of LuLu in personality, perfect in every way, your little miracle.
taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @esposadejoyhuerta @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart
Join my taglist here ^^
230 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wild Child Chapter. 2
Series Summary:
As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.
Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.
"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.
"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."
Ari Levinson x You
#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince
#when i did, it was too late
“Where’s mom?” On returning home, you asked your father, who was pacing in his study.
“Forget about that woman. Alcohol?! And shameless flirting?!!” Your father barked at you, “I sent you to study for your degree, not whoring yourself out for some peasant on the plane.”
“If I may, father,” Your lips twitched, forming a quick smirk, but hiding it as soon as your father glared at you, “if he is a peasant, he’s a peasant in the first class. Isn’t that what you commented on the son of the minister?”
Keeping your tone as plain as possible, you bit the inside of your cheek from laughing.
“You don’t fucking talk back to me, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Your father roared with all his fury. Clearly, his little pea brain has gone through your logic and was reminded of the failed attempt to marry you to Timothy Sullivan, the son of the Minister of Foreign Trade.
“Yes, father.” You murmured. Lowering your head to watch your shoes.
These are very adorable high heels. Black, elegant, lady-like.
You wonder if you could tell the designer to add a couple of daisies on it, to compliment the black velvet surface. It’d better be daisies with thin pedals and-
“You WILL be marrying the prince, and I don’t fucking care whether we have to tie you to a wheelchair or send you to the psychic ward to accomplish that!” He hissed right into your face.
He was way too worked up, a few drops of spit landed on your face as a result.
You didn’t even flinch.
“LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” He shouted.
You raised your eyes, looking at him, right in the eyes you inherited from.
There were veins pumping on his forehead, and his neck. Your father had aged. Older than the blurry image your memory had shown you. A few strands of his hair turned grey, Wrinkles, saggy skin, and cloudy eyes.
And a smell of grease, sweat, and … the stench of men.
The stench of old age and death crept up to him, clawing him from head to toe.
He was aged, old, and there was only so much that he could do, as he desperately tried to wrap you in his fingers.
“Yes, father.” You answered like a robot.
He breathed like a broken bellow. You could almost hear his lungs expanding and contracting, sounding as if he was trying to breathe with phlegm blocking his windpipe.
Looking into your eyes, he looked stunned.
“No funny tricks, you hear me?” He grunted, collapsing onto his chair, and drinking down from his mug. When he spoke again, his voice grew softer, “I know you weren’t pleased with this … deal, but it could benefit our family, benefit you, and just think, that the heir of our kingdom is your husband and your future children … If I were you,” He reached for your hand and patted it in a comforting sort of way, “I would have married him.”
Now, you really couldn’t help yourself. Because-
“I don’t remember the prince ever saying anything about not being gay.” You commented dryly, “Considering your enthusiasm, why don’t you go marry him?”
That earned you the punishment of grounding for a month. Which, on the other hand, helped you realize that you only have a month before the wedding.
No TV, no Internet, no phone.
But your father was “kind” enough to deliver some books per your requirements, You were carefully examined by the security guards before entering your bedroom, having all electronics taken from your possession,
A few people came to visit.
Your aunt, the prince’s aunt, and two Countess who had met the prince in person.
They came bragging and persuading you to marry the prince, because he is tall and handsome, the Prince Charming of forty million dames in your country,
Sure.
If this Prince, Ari Levinson, is handsome, pigs could also fly and bats could miraculously regain their eyesight.
You had learnt how aunties could manipulate the facts and create someone who sounded perfect and flawless many years ago.
Truthfully though, if he sent your mother, you would consider the possibility of accepting this marriage (though you doubt you’d have other choices). Bringing in these blabbing mouths only furthered your irritation towards Prince Ari, as he could well come here and face you like a man with balls.
Meals were brought to your door. Shoes and credit cards were taken from your room. Your sleeping chamber was on the second floor, and your father made sure you wouldn’t jump from the terrace by planting thorn bushes on the ground below.
He even banned you from attending the late Duke’s funeral, and snorted, “Don’t even THINK about running away.”
Where could you possibly run to? You had no money, no transportation, and nowhere to hide.
And by now, it has struck you that the funeral was only a scam to lure you home.
Considering that your grandfather did pass away, half a scam.
The true intention was to get you married. It always has been. But the fact that your grandfather died sped up the process, as there was no more guarantee that the “Duke” title would stay in your family. Your father needed to marry you to the prince, before the royal family regrets their decision to abandon your family and select another girl to marry Ari.
However, you didn’t plan to run.
Not yet, anyway.
A week after you returned home, you were hauled out of the mansion for the dress fitting.
Two bodyguards pinned you between them, squeezing the life out of you when you arrived at the shop Priester’s Bridal, feeling like you were turned into two-dimensional.
“Guys,” You shooed them to the doorstep, crossing your arms for good measure, “a little privacy when the bride is about to try on her wedding dress, please.”
It would be your wedding and you wanted it to be the way you wanted.
A sparkling dress, a shiny diamond ring, a small church with stone walls and altar…
“Please, gentlemen?” You cocked your head to the side. You had never used your title or your power upon anyone, but for once, you wanted to be left undisturbed, “All I’m asking is for you to turn around. Or I will tell my future husban how you followed me into the changing room.”
There was only one exit in and out of this wedding dress shop, and your bodyguards (more like the bodyguards sent by your father to keep an eye on you) blocked the door with their large frames and had their backs to you without another word.
The owner of the shop welcomed you with a warm smile and a firm handshake, “Ms. Y/L/N, right? I’m Lana Priester, and I will be assisting you with your dress fitting. Please follow me to the changing room.”
The shop took up almost half a block, with floor-to-ceiling windows that put almost every wedding dress in the shop on display. Thick silver curtains cut the shop into halves. With the first half, the half that could be seen by pedestrians on the sidewalk, and the second half, which was completely closed off to unauthorized personnel, including large mirrors, a huge leather couch, the owner’s office in the corner, and a changing room to the left.
Lana kept stealing glances at you. Making you wonder if serving the future Queen was too much of a responsibility for her.
As she held the heavy curtain for you to pass through, you asked in a low voice: “Is the wedding dress ready?”
Lana let out a small gasp of surprise, “Of course, it is, Ma’am. We’ve had this dress ready for two weeks now. I personally designed it based on your measurements given by your father.”
Ah. So it is ready. You closed your eyes for a second, feeling the surge of anger travelling through your veins. You had never given your measurements to anyone, let alone your father. They – your family and the royal family - had been planning it for over a month by now, while your grandfather’s death gave them the perfect excuse to bring you home.
And you took the bait, like a fool.
You changed into the wedding dress with the help of a few sales assistants. Long, white, lace edges that prickled your skin, with puff sleeves that end mid-arm.
You looked like a fucking clown from the Victorian Era.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, after stepping out of the changing room, for one briefest of moments, you could almost laugh.
For how ridiculous and pathetic you looked in your wedding dress.
For the fact that you were going to marry a man you had never met.
Though if you laughed, you would, no doubt, be thrown into an ambulance and locked up in the psychiatric ward.
“Could I have a say in some minor changes … for example, we lose the lace and the puff sleeves?” You glanced at Lana in the mirror, your fingers uncontrollably scratching your skin because of the itching lace.
Lana hesitated. She didn’t say “Yes” or “No” in an instant, rather, she darted her eyes elsewhere – you guessed she was asking for help from her employees in silence.
The corner of your lips twitched, but you pressed the cold sneer back where it came from.
“Well?” You crossed your arms, “I am the bride, am I not?”
“Yes … Yes, but - ” She waved for the sales assistants to get out of earshot before whispering, “It’s your father’s order to design such a dress…”
Lana seemed nice. You regretted your decision to pull her into your “royal” mess in the first place.
“Forget it.” You smiled humorlessly, “It’s a nice dress. And I doubt four weeks would be enough.”
It was hideous.
The small excitement you had in your heart of at least getting a nice dress for your once-in-a-lifetime wedding burst like a bubble.
Some fucking bride you were, not being able to have a say in your own wedding dress.
“What seems to be the problem?”
A low timbre ghosted your ears.
Your vision blurred, but you were fairly certain that a handsome man approached you.
A dazzling blue shirt, popping two buttons at the collar loose. Bulging everywhere because his muscles could barely be contained in the tight fabric. Rolling up his sleeves, the man stood before you. A smile on his lips that could make the sun blush.
Fuck.
You exhaled softly.
You’d rather marry this handsome guy than the pussy prince.
No, pussies can push babies out of women's bodies, the prince was even lesser than a pussy because you were sure that he couldn’t give birth to kids.
Lana cleared her throat, piping up nervously, “Uh - Miss. Y/L/N here wants to … make changes to her dress.”
To Ari’s eyes, you were fucking gorgeous.
But what the fuck was wrong with that dress and whoever designed this?
Searching through your memory, you matched the familiar face to the man on the plane: “Oh! You … we met on the plane to Ancetol.” Feigning a gasp, you widened your grin, “You work in the jewellery industry, right? Fancy seeing you here.”
“Y/N!” Ari faked his surprised expression. He had been watching you from the surveillance camera in the tiny owner’s office. It took him great strength to act like an Oscar-winner, “Yes, the plane. Guy. Guy Thomas. I own this place.” He re-introduced himself, since you had clearly forgotten his name.
You extended your hand to shake his, but he took it gently and kissed the back of your hand softly.
Fuck, he’s got long eyelashes.
Those said eyelashes fluttered, revealing those crystal blue eyes, “How may I be of assistance?”
Warmth travelled from your throat to the bottom of your stomach. Blood soared to your face, which you hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“I was wondering if I could make changes to this … dress.” You said curtly.
“Your- Um, Mr. Thomas,” Lana spoke up behind you, “This dress is ordered by her father, Mr. Y/L/N.”
Ari rubbed his thumb. He was used to twirling the family ring on his finger, but the empty touch reminded him that he had put it in his pocket, because of the obvious lion with a spear and a shield as the family crest on the large golden ring.
“Grab a pen and paper,” He ordered Lana to re-design your dress, “This time, I will personally oversee the designing.”
As Lana scurried to gather what was needed to redo the dress, Ari led you to sit on the large couch, while asking the sales assistants to bring you a bottle of champagne and two glasses and “the ring selection”.
“The ring selection?” You couldn’t help but ask, as you were notified next to nothing on this shopping tour of yours, “I wasn’t aware that I would be choosing the ring.”
“The engagement ring.” Ari explained, “It has been paid along with the cost of the dress. I - ” He remembered that he was “Guy”, nothing more than a business owner, “The royal family paid for everything. I think they want you to wear it, now that you were engaged and about to be married.”
“Ah.” You let your gaze fall elsewhere.
You would be picking the most fucking expensive ring from this store.
And asking for your dress to be made of entirely diamonds.
“You don’t look happy.” He commented all of a sudden, earning a curious expression from you. “You don’t look happy.” He repeated, “Why is that?”
He seemed genuine.
“Give me one reason that I should be, I challenge you.” You took a glass from the sales assistant’s tray, sipping on the bubbly drink, grinning, “Although, I should probably warn you that my lawyer will ask you to sign an NDA after we talk.”
“Don’t care.” He murmured, before turning to you. His interest spiked, “First of, aren’t you marrying the prince, which, according to rumors, soon to be crowned king after the wedding?”
“You mean marrying a man I have completely no idea of, and he didn’t even show up, or get down on his knees?” You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, “Puh-lease, they say that marriage is the grave of love. I’d say this marriage buries all possibilities of love.”
Ari scratched his nose when he heard you mention about “not showing up”, technically he did … just not as himself. Taking a drink from his own glass, he ventured for a second guess, “But I’m sure that you could do something real and … I don’t know,” he pushed his hair to the back, feeling short-breathed, “charity. Go to hospital, visit sick children, support kids getting education, stuff like that.”
You sigh. “It takes years to land those projects, not to mention that every move I make will be vetted by the royal family. They could easily kick me out if they don’t need my father – no, my late grandfather’s title anymore.”
That coincided with what his mother, Queen Olivia, had said. They only needed you for the connections to the Upper House. Which, of course, he would fight tooth and nail for you to remain your position as the future queen. He doubted whether another girl from the noble family could be half as entertaining as you.
"Why not just quit? Quit this all." Ari gestured to the dresses on the mannequin.
Your eyes darted towards the door, where two bodyguards were still doing their duty, preventing you from escaping. "Do you think we'd still be talking if I had a choice?"
“Would it be better if you take the title? Not your father? That’d help you stay in the royal family?” Ari asked as a last resort. If he could do anything to help you, he would.
“Sure.” You drained your class, calm as ever. “But you've forgot one thing.”
You had considered it before, even asking your father about the possibility. To which he answered with a slap on your face and called you a dumb bitch.
“Which is?”
“Ballenian law stated that noble titles could only be inherited by men.”
He shut his mouth.
The long history of Ballenia was filled with kings.
He should have known. He should have noticed.
"Miss. Y/L/N?" One of the sales assistants lingered by the jewellery counter near the wall, "Your rings are ready."
Having three trays brought to you, you carelessly pointed one that looked most beautiful - also the one with the largest diamond on it.
"Let me help." Ari muttered, dismissing the assistant, pinching the diamond ring between his fingers, and carefully slipping the dashing ring on your middle finger.
It fitted. Perfectly.
Your glass had been refilled with champagne, so you raised your glass into the air, "To the fucking royal family."
Ari's glass clicked with yours.
You presumed he didn't dare to say so. So you let out a small giggle and allowed your tiny piece of freedom - the buzzing alcohol to indulge you for the moment.
Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx
Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈
Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂
#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x you#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson smut#ari levinson fluff#prince!ari levinson#royalty au#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
Interview with the Omnitrix
@floralflowerpower Wanted to make sure you got to seeee
Find it on ao3 buds!
With the Hybreed defeated and a new playlist of aliens to figure out, Ben let himself enjoy the parties going on at home and gave Ken the pout of his life when he was denied any alcohol. “If I’m old enough to save the galaxy from genocide, I think I’m old enough to drink.” Apparently, it didn’t work that way, but Mom agreed with Ben and he got a whole 8 ounces of some fruity blend of stuff. He was dizzy the rest of the night on into his sleep.
When the celebrations were done with, Ben found himself sitting in his room, staring down at the Omnitrix.
“We saved the whole galaxy because you can alter genes on the fly. Can you… can you answer me if I ask you questions?”
In his own voice, the watch responded, “Affirmative.”
“Would’ve been great to know but that’s my fault for not checking I guess. So, the way that you returned the DNAliens back to human form, would you be able to fix Albedo back to his original form too?”
“Affirmative.”
“Well, that’s on the list I guess. Ben 10,000 mentioned putting a lock on you, is there a way to make sure other people can’t transform me without my consent?”
“Affirmative, morph lock currently disengaged. Would you like to engage the morph lock?”
“Oh my god, yes! Engage morph lock, please.” The watch beeped twice, then clicked, and Ben pumped his fist in the air. “Awesome! Okay, what else… hey, how come back when I was a kid you turned me into the wrong alien and timed out at random?”
Ben swore he felt judgment that wasn’t his hitting him from all sides. “During referenced time of 2004 A.D. to 2005 A.D. Omnimatrix Model 1.00 was far more delicate and susceptible to glitches and damage. User Ben Tennyson only activated the primary transformation function properly once: the very first time.”
Ben sucked on his teeth with a wince. “Is slamming your dial the problem?”
“Transformation countdown was randomized with each excessively forceful activation. Morph randomization is a result of built-up damage and errors typical of any prototype. Morph randomization has since been fixed, and morph duration reliant on charge.”
Ben tilted his head, scratching his neck. “Alright, that brings me to another question that paying attention in science class and going on adhd spirals on the internet has had me confused about. Nothing comes from nothing, so where do you get your charge?”
“Original power source: pocket dimension crafted by First Thinker Azmuth, to which an increasing number of black holes lead, filling it with white holes. Current secondary source: user Ben Tennyson’s excess mana, which would otherwise damage User Ben Tennyson’s body.”
Well shit.
“Elaborate on the mana part.”
“User: Ben Tennyson produces large quantities of previously unknown energy, now classified as mana. Other sapient beings are observed to produce varying quantities of mana, the smallest being found in Galvanic Mechamorphs. User’s human body is insufficient for containment of natural mana production. Previous glitches involving excess mana generation include manifestation of consciousness within ectonurite genomorph.
“Reference: Verdona Tennyson of Anodine indicates failure to regulate User’s excess mana production will result in User’s human body becoming a mass of mana charged plasma, similar to the revealed true form of Verdona Tennyson.” late User’s excess mana production will result in User’s human body becoming a mass of mana charged plasma, similar to the revealed true form of Verdona Tennyson.”
Ben took a deep breath in for 4 seconds, held it for 4 more, and let it out over the course of 4 seconds.
“Asking Grandma about that is also on my to do list, at the top probably. I just need to figure out how to contact her.” Ben rubbed his temples and considered whether or not he could handle more answers to his questions.
“Hey omnitrix, are you able to change my human body?”
“Affirmative.”
“… Have you changed my human body in the past?”
“Negative.”
After a moment of making the kinds of changes most teenage boys would when presented with that kind of opportunity, Ben furrowed his brows in thought.
“Hey, Ship remembers all of the things he’s upgraded, so how come when I was Upgrade I never kept the blueprints for all the stuff I upgraded?”
“Galvanic Mechamorphs are completely mechanical entities with nanites in place of cells. The Galvanic Mechamorph stores consciousness and memories very differently from how a human being does. Maintaining a record of your memories and consciousness during the disassembly and reconstruction of your brain is no small task.”
Ben nodded, shrugging. “Too complicated to do when you’ve got more important things to prioritize, got it. So, before I go and figure out the new aliens you’ve given me, I’ve got one more question.
“If my excess mana brought Ghost Freak to life, are you alive?”
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just some thoughts I wanted to share. 🐺
//Topic - My nonhuman childhood and how it was never caused by media//
I commonly come across people who blame the internet and media influence for therianthropy/nonhumanity. And I can definitely see how that CAN indeed happen. I mean, media REALLY influences people, especially children/minors who are in their mental development stages.
For myself though its never really been the case? I dont mean "ive always felt i wasnt human". Like.. yes but its more than that.
As a child I believed I was some kind of physical shapeshifting creature. I believed puberty would transform me into the animal i was supposed to be.
Delusional right? Well, I was a child. And I never had anybody to tell me why i felt like that. I didnt have television, the internet or media. I had no way of understanding something that was never shown or taught. Not like any adult would ever even talk about this to begin with. Not until social media evolved of course. So yea... i believed "i must be physically nonhuman in some sense? Like... a hybrid?"
I knew the things that made me nonhuman. The animalistic desires and behaviours that surpass what is normal for a human being. Even more abnormal than earlier human ancestors. I felt limbs that werent there I thought, "if amputees can feel absent limbs.. well.. maybe mine were removed? Or they have yet to grow?"
Sure autism could influence my experiences. But regardless. These arnt normal behaviours.
I did know to hide my behaviours from adults though. My lil sister was the only one to see it. Id walk on all fours, id gnaw on dog bones and tree branches, id drink from puddles, id eat grass, id bark and growl and howl. Id hunt for real animals, roll in mud and stinky substances, I played more with dogs and cats than i did people. I ate anything that seemed edible outside (dont do this kids, its dangerous pfft). I wanted my meat as close to fresh and raw as possible (no seasonings or anything). I wore bandanas around my neck, because collars were a "no-no". I wore ears, and tails made of scarves. I let my nails grow and obsessed over my canine teeth.
This could all have been explained by early imprinting on dogs. But... i never had any close connections to dogs until much later on after these behaviours were already noticeable. I only had imprinted on cats, but that behaviour was entirely different. And all were indoor cats who lazied around. Nothing like the wild canine brained creature that I believed i was.
After over a decade of nonhuman behaviours, once puberty set in, i realized I wasnt becoming an animal. And slowly that realization sunk in, and I lost a part of myself. I felt alone, lost, confused. I stopped being myself for many years. Forcing a mask. Hiding my autistic traits, and my non-human behaviours. Wearing a mask and trying to be what others considered normal.
Until, I found the therian community.
I was 16 by then. And it was through my new stepsister who shared so with me.
I can remember finally feeling like I understood a part of myself. I wasnt crazy, or psychotic. I wasnt delusional. I was what people called a therianthrope. Someone who psychologically or spiritually is an animal. Within, not physically of course. People who weren't crazy. And who had a diversity of animal identities. Dogs, cats, birds, horses, fish and deer. All kinds. And not just children either. Adults, kids and other teens like myself.
I found a place I could belong. (A bit more at least, i still have a hard time belonging here.)
Now, after years, my identity is solid. I may not use any labels, but in some shape or form, psychologically or spiritually, i am and have always been a canine and a bear. I do still hide my animalistic traits from the public and my peers/family. But i express it when i can, in my own home or the woods that we own. 🐾
// When it comes to being a walk-in spirit, thats an entirely different thing. And i didnt mention the experiences tied to that. Its not the same, despite having some influence on my nonhuman identities. //
Alright! Thats it. That was quite a handful of information. But hope it was enjoyed. If anybody read it at all.
You can share your own with me if you'd like. Either in a comment, as a share or DM. 🌱
#therian#therianthrope#therianthropy#therians#alterhuman#otherkin#coyote therian#bear therian#wolf therian#canine therian#dog therian#non human#nonhuman
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ramblings on Only Friends Ep. 2
Part 1/4
Again, public declarations/proposals my be-loathed
Cheum is really just here for the vibes and her friends' happiness and I love her for that
JENNY!! I mean P'YO!!! AND HER MAN!!!
This confessional is giving Reality TV vibes and I'm here for it. Although the series is fiction, it is depicting the very real lifestyles of many people in the world and it's honestly so refreshing
See? Sand gets it ... so lame
Aww, Ray ... sweetie
I'm just properly looking at the intro and god everyone looks so hot
You are so right Cheum — there is nothing hotter than someone doing or talking about something within their area of expertise
Not Mew and Top being different sides of the same coin — they both like the challenge; let's see who gives in first
Seriously, can we get Ray some help :(
Mew putting that emphasis on "my friend" oof
Ah, so Top definitely knows that Ray likes Mew
The start of Sand and Nick's bestie era; we love to see it
Mew, you're really after my heart — to tell the guy who's everyone's type that he's not YOUR type *chef's kiss*
Yes, getting Mew is about the chase and conquest BUT Top is a little out of his element bc Mew stimulates his mind AND his lions; he really ain't gonna know what hit him lol
Ray, sweetie ... why are you following this man? At this rate, you're never gonna beat the stray cat allegations
Yo 10,000 Baht is 281.21 USD???! — I would do it too for a check lol
Part 2/4
Can't even focus on the heated make out etc. bc those horns/antlers behind Nick's head were a terrible accident waiting to happen *shudders*
Nick is already so gooooone I just-
With the level of game Boston is spitting, Nick really didn't stand a chance
I want Sand's messenger bag; wonder if it'll be merch
Oooo I love the way they filmed Sand walking into Ray's sitting room; nothing like a good one-take scene
Ray's mom ... that explains so much :(
I guess this wakeboarding park is the new BL spot; first Wedding Plan and now OF lol
GO APRIL!!
Oh no Cheum :(
I'm sorry but Top diving into the water was ... LMAOOO
Gdi Boston! STAND TF UP!!! Top's not gonna pick you and no dick is worth losing a friendship over
Part 3/4
Did Boston climb the shower wall bc how the hell???
Gotta find that post that talks about red (stop), yellow (slow), and green/blue (go) being prominent colors in Mew and Top's relationship because it's really evident in this episode, ESPECIALLY in this cookie scene
Look at my boi Mew setting those boundaries iktr
Mutual mast rep? We love to see it!
But seriously Nick, I'm gonna need you to run baby
Yooo Neo's body is insane; I'm looking respectfully
Can WE see the monstera? We love a good plant tour on this side of the internet
Leaving a hot girl to go home with a hot guy; Sand is winning either way esp considering this super playful vibe Ray is putting on
Part 4/4
Sleeping pills? AND a tragic backstory?
Ngl I thought he was lying too lol ... still kinda think he's lying, but I'll let it go for now
Okay maybe he isn't lying; look at the way he's holding Mew :'(
Is that Ray and Mew in the picture? And what's with the tense, sinister bg music? Whatchu plottin' Boston?
Pansexual rep? We love to see it!
As I said last week, lighting cigarettes as a form of foreplay
Who knew a cigarette smoke kiss could be so life-changing; I am a new person
That little voice in First's head must've been going crazy during this scene lol
AND YOU'RE GONNA KEEP WANTING ME??? IKTR
At this rate, Khaotung's tattoo needs to get a separate check for it's role in this series
Oh Sand, sweetie ... the fire started when you lit that cigarette and you started playing with it the moment you accepted that smoke-filled kiss *deep sigh* you're in too deep now baby (both literally AND figuratively)
Next week is gonna be insane; see you then :)
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
yandere!poet x gn!darling, pt. one . . .
˚₊ ꒰ nightmare fuel 𝄁︎ obsessive behavior + delusional behavior, not too shabby, yeah?
˚₊ ꒰ word count 𝄁︎ 648.
˚₊ ꒰ key 𝄁︎ crossed out red words indicate amunet's thoughts. blue text indicate amunet's messages. purple text indicate y/n's messages.
˚₊ ꒰ sen’s statement(s) 𝄁︎ you’re more than likely to find my oc’s information here along with the rest of them. amunet’s my first yandere oc so go easy on her, yes? i'll take some constructive criticism since i'm new to the term 'yandere’, but i’d rather not listen to a random on the internet chastise me, ykwim?
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who's in your college american literature class presented their poem to the class. you couldn't help but compliment them in a silly manner! …
"you're literally the black lang leav with these poems! they're sooo scrumptious!"
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who was stunned by your admission. she didn’t anticipate that someone as ethereal as you was in her class, let alone compliment her. she couldn't even respond characteristically but instead gulped, nodded, and thanked you with a strained tone …
"w-well, aren't you the charmer...? ahem, thank you dearly...”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who gives you the best compliments considering that a mere "beautiful" or "handsome" wouldn't suffice, your soul is incomprehensible, and no one has ever ignited her own soul before as you have. your palms are imbued with authentic restoratives, how she personified you as a field full of fluffy clouds, and how your beauty outmatched the many moons of all the systems.
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who somehow managed to persuade your professor to give you rectified and rephrased assignments so you wouldn't go home with complex poems, though occasionally she bestows deep topics upon you in order to study your perspective on certain aspects. you found it strange when you joke to your professor about an assignment being a bit difficult, causing him to burst into a bunch of desperate attempts to make it easier.
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who slips anonymous motivating, doting, or impossible-to-crack sonnets in your locker every day (even though you recognize her handwriting but decided not to confront her on it, it was cute).
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who has confessed to you a plethora of times in one of her slam poetries while refusing to translate her emotion (believing she was slick, though once again, it was painfully obvious). their eyes glimmering with adoration when she mentions how your adulation drowns her soul in nostalgia.
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who writes affirmations on your arms or hands with the pen she uses for your sonnets, her heart bursting into an ocean of euphoria with each word she engraved into your skin, her breathing quickening and her face heating up the more and more she processes how intimate this moment was …
“y-your skin…it feels…become mine already…so soft, feels like dreams…they’re so faultless…”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who cheers giddily to herself after you returned the favor with those sonnets with a haiku of your own, the poet staring at it intently, rereading it for the forty-second time as she struggled to comprehend that it was a confession! lightheadedness overcame her, her heart palpitated harshly, and her eyes welled with tears while clenching the sheet of paper. she needed to sit down, but she couldn’t! she was still pinching and biting herself to comprehend that this was…reality …
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! who immediately planned her wedding vows toward you in (you guessed it) poetry form (specifically a free form). as she announced the words happily in her room, she couldn’t help but cry ecstatically in the midst of it, her body trembling harshly in excitement and desire as the overwhelming passion to kiss you drowned her with love …
“mmn, what are you doing to me, my beloved? there’s not enough ink in the world to evince how i feel about you…”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere poet! seeing you the next day with a smug expression, clearly knowing what you’re doing to her. when you were about to tease them, they fed into their desires by pulling you into the deepest kiss, moaning softly as her body erupted with frissons of thrill. her soul opened and flooded for you, her emotions pouring onto you, her arms locked around your torso …
“i love you so much, i can’t believe you’re finally all mine. you’ll experience constant heaven from now on. don’t you agree, hun? would you like to open the gates of heaven?”
© all rights reserved 𝄁︎ sencity. plagiarism will not be tolerated on this blog but addressed and chastised accordingly.
#☪︎︎ sen’s submission#sencity#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere oc#yande.re#yandere x y/n#yandere x gender neutral reader#yandere imagines#yandere love#yandere x you#yandere x darling#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#obsessive behavior#yandere character#tw: yandere#yandere concept#yandere content#female yandere#manipulative yandere#clingy yandere#tw: stalking#yandere stalking#tw: manipulation#yandere core#yandere original character#yandere x willing reader#yandere angst
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
I fear we're all already dead
Just a few years ago, human decency--a concept that was admittedly always nebulous and contextual--became radically redefined. Whatever it used to be was inadequate. Now, decency is defined by one's willingness to perform obedience rituals regarding interpersonal comportment. You don't add the letter X to random words because you like it or because it changes anything; you do it because you just do it, because that's what it takes to be a decent fucking person.
Like most other social malignancies, this one started in academe and slowly slithered its way into white collar spaces before becoming mandated elsewhere. As recently as a decade ago, the more pointless and onerous of precepts such as this would either eventually die out or take a very long time before reaching the mainstream in some tempered form. The internet has hastened to speed of the spread. Today's bit of niche retardation is tomorrow's unbreakable mandate, and you will be punished if you refuse to obey. And why shouldn't you be? Are we as a society supposed to just sit there and tolerate behaviors that are as indecent as using naughty words or not posting a Black square on your instagram feed?
The left either celebrates developments such as this or, in their edgier and more honest moments, attempt to downplay them. Yes, a large majority of Hispanic people refuse the term Latinx and many of them find it actively offensive. But so what. It ain't hurting anybody. J-just go through the motions, keep your head down, obey in public and snicker about it when no one's watching.
But I fear we've lost something. Something essential. At heart, this is a social project meant to inculcate all Decent people into a form of didactic manicheanism. As nearly everyone acknowledges, none of this really changes anything. It's a social sorting mechanism, something that gives us all an excuse to automatically hate those who fall into the wrong side of performance.
The need to judge everyone, at all times and as harshly as possible, has stripped the concept of morality of all human traits. Assessments become more superficial at scale. Tasked with sorting every person, every thought, every action and utterance into Good and Bad piles means we don't really have the time or capacity to dig deep, no room to consider whether our judgments are reflective of anything more meaningful than our desire to judge.
The news was rough last week. It started with two separate incidents in which left-wing activists were murdered by strangers: one in his home, another on the street. Each did exactly what they were instructed to do in the wake of the Daniel Penny incident. They had been trained to ignore their basic survival instincts, that both flight and fight are problematic responses to encountering deranged and visibly angry men. What does it say about your privilege, if you confront or distance yourself from a man simply because he's verbally threatening to kill you? Are you some sort of Republican? Or are one of the Good ones, willing to reach out and attempt to provide deranged vagrants with the validation society has so cruelly denied them?
The right responded to these murders with unbridled glee. Everyone is sharing the same screen, after all... just looking it from one of two opposed angles. The men had supported what they thought were more humane policies in regards to crime and housing, and so that means their deaths were cause for celebration. Everyone is still either Good or Bad. They are labels, not humans.
And then, over the weekend, Hamas launched the largest offensive against Israel that's happened in my lifetime. Here we were treated to the ripest fruits of intersectionality: unironic racists allying with leftie keyboard revolutionaries to celebrate the victory of based hyper-religious trads over the heathen children of an EMD festival, august professors of Decolonization Studies attempting to reconcile their nagging support of violent revolution with videos of young women being raped and murdered. Context was secondary. The need to sort prevailed above all else. We need to determine who is Good here, and who is Bad, so that we can either cheer or cry. There is no human reality beyond my screen. There is no human reality beyond my judgment.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
The first five MRU universes
So again, gonna be a while before these actually happen because I want to actually write out the process of Piper stealing the HMG research, some of the preparations for Launch Day, and the actual First Activation, and I'm waiting until after I finish the Wonder Arc to write those so I don't end up abandoning it half-finished for months. But I at least wanted to list them out.
Again, universe 1 is basically the Test Universe, while 2-5 are in one batch that gets activated all at once.
The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom
Anchor: Link
Supervisor: Trinity
MRUs: 0 and 1
To justify having references to every game (because why wouldn’t it) Time Portals appeared basically everywhere at the same time the Memes did. Also, the Internet Graveyard got merged with the Wild-Era Sacred Realm (which was obviously never visited and is at the current End of the timeline so it doesn’t mess anything up and I can do whatever I want with its aesthetic). Yes, whoever did the setup had to get every Korok seed so the Key Items menu couldn’t canonically update and potentially break something. They did, in fact, get a raise for that.
Hamtor Tubez
Anchor: Doc the Hamtor
Supervisor: GIF
MRUs: 2 and 3
A puzzle game about leading Hamster-like creatures called Hamtors through elaborate tube mazes. Doc is a Mad Scientist and the leader of the Hamtors and is training them for when he will one day TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!!, and there’s other unique Hamtors with special abilities that get introduced throughout the game as new puzzle elements.
Beneath the Faerie Mound
Anchor: Frida
Supervisor: Quazar
MRUs: 4 and 5
A metroidvania about a Changeling who gets Taken Back and has to fight her way out of Faery Country so she can return home. She initially thinks that MRU5 is another faerie who's come to try Taking her again.
The Fairly Oddparents!
Anchor: Timmy Turner
Supervisor: Spreadsheet
MRUs: 6 and 7
Look, making the Pokemon Anime universe part of the AU has set the precedent for also being able to use cartoons as SMG/MRU universes instead of just Games.
Interestingly, the Memes changing things to make the universe more entertaining undid a lot of the later season retcons, especially the Season 9 ones, so a lot of the characters are actually less Mean and Stupid than before. I'm using kid Timmy because he's the Real One so the live action movies and That One Spinoff aren't canon outside of memes, but Nicktoons Unite and its sequels are. So are seasons 9 and 10, 10 because I happen to like Chloe (or at least what she had the potential to be) and 9 because I think it would be funny to have Sparky be The Thing We Never Speak Of among the characters who would know about him.
Janitor of Heart: Stain Rising
Anchor: Rodney Teegan (Champion Form only)
Supervisor: Connectivity
MRUs: 8 and 9
A Magical Girl Beat-'em-Up that's actually a tie-in to an in-universe comic series called Rodney Teegan: Janitor of Heart.
The premise of the comic series is that a girl named Mina Reynolds who is Exactly the sort of person you'd expect to be a Magical Girl Protagonist gets her chance to when her school is attacked by a goop monster (part of an eldritch being known as The Stain) and she finds a magic bracelet containing the Spirit of Heart, Harmony, who chooses her as the Champion of Heart. But, when she tries to transform, some wires get crossed somewhere and the bracelet's power instead flows into Rodney Teegan, a 57-year-old janitor who Mina considers a close friend and who was with her when she found the bracelet. And because the transformation is based on what Mina wanted to look like as a magical superhero, he ends up in the body of a teenage girl with a cute poofy pink outfit. Whoops.
In his Champion form, Rodney has the expected enhanced strength, and can heal very quickly, but his main power is being able to turn cleaning supplies into weapons. It can be something as simple as a broom (in fact his signature weapon is a spear made from a push broom) or as massive and complex as a street sweeper truck. Also, Harmony isn't just a Cute Mascot Character and actually joins in fighting, mainly using super-strong punches and kicks and acting as a healer. Mina still has the bracelet (it actually can't come off at all) and needs to be nearby in order for Rodney and Harmony's powers to work. I have not come up with what Rodney's hero name would be.
Anyway, the game depicts the events of a particularly large Stain attack, this one being an invasion of the whole city, but other than the larger workload it'd be a fairly normal day (since by this point the three of them are more-or-less used to this since it's been a few months) if not for someone new joining the fray. It turns out that Harmony isn't the only Spirit in town, because we're introduced to the Champion of Storms, Thunderbird, and her Spirit partner Zap. Thunderbird has weather control powers, usually favoring lightning, and has a strange transforming mechanical construct that she uses both as a weapon and mobility aid, usually mechanical wings, giant electrified gauntlets, or supersonic skates. She's fighting the stain too, but has apparently decided to start a rivalry with Rodney's team instead of working with them just 'cause. Also, when her machine isn't in Skate Mode it's revealed that she has a translucent magical construct in place of her right leg.
She's eventually revealed to be Hazel O'Brien, one of Mina's classmates. The machine is her wheelchair, which transformed along with her because why wouldn't it?
Interestingly, Connected Cosmos Company were the ones who made the game, and also the ones who came up with Hazel and her Thunderbird persona. However, due to the terms of the licensing agreement the comic's creator owns the rights to the character, and has made sure that the specific designer in CCC who made her gets the royalties for the character being used in the comic (because the game is canon to the comic and Hazel's now a major character), rather than the company as a whole. She's the one character created by CCC that Jayin doesn't own, and I like to think that grates on her, especially because she can't do anything about it without damaging her company's carefully cultivated reputation.
Anyway, as far as the MRU stuff goes, there is one odd quirk about Rodney's Anchor Status: due to only his Champion Form being playable, his Anchor code is dormant in his normal form. Thankfully this doesn't cause problems for the Meme Cycle or the universe's stability, and it doesn't have the same negative effects as actively suppressing his Anchor Tendencies would. It does, however, make it so his Champion form has a different personality (bubbly airhead with occasional violent tendencies) than his normal form, which is very much Not A Thing in canon.
#smg4 ocs#the grid#meme regulation units#link loz#hamtor tubez#doc the hamtor#beneath the faerie mound#frida#mru5#timmy turner#chloe carmichael#sparky the dog#janitor of heart stain rising#rodney teegan janitor of heart#rodney teegan#mina reynolds#harmony#the stain#hazel o'brian#thunderbird#zap#connected cosmos company#jayin#if i tagged all the mrus and supervisors i'd run out of tags#chloe was a decent character concept trapped in a dying show. fite me#don't worry about doc he's just a Silly Little Fluff Nugget
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is Me. No, Seriously. And some thoughts:
First off, I am truly sorry for leaving without a word. I hope this post sort of clarifies a few things about why I had this sudden amazing urge to delete everything and walk off. The short version is, I'm surprisingly not doing okay.
Yes, this is me. Mads. You can put down your magnifying glasses now! I deactivated my account and went limbo for a week, succumbed to outside pressures and such and just couldn't help it. It was one of those days where I'd reached a point, you know? Where I was like, "Okay. This is it. I'm walking away."
If you guys didn't know before, I am a writer! Yes, not only do I write fanfics, but I have a couple of original works too. And I also have terrible anxiety. A few days ago, there was this happening in the fandom and things were said and I heavily regretted my words. I had this horrible feeling that I pissed off a ton of people and on the internet, it is very easy to drive someone mad. There's always going to be happy people and not so happy people and I should've definitely considered that before talking and sharing some possibly hurtful opinions.
But that isn't the reason! The main reason is, I'm just not doing okay! There's so much uncertainty in my life and though writing and art and all these things gave me some clarity, I always had this sickening doubt that it wasn't going to last very long. And struggling with quite a load of "hard times" shall we say, I just couldn't take it any longer. My mental health was literally down the drain and I no longer found happiness in doing what I want to do.
And when you're driven to the brink of insanity, to the point where you'd delete your works (the hours and effort put into them) and it is just reduced to ashes within a matter of seconds, it becomes somewhat of a serious problem. I've always struggled with work and have a bad case of self-sabotage, IRL and in the internet. But the damages are worse in real life and academics and health take a huge toll. I wasn't doing okay at all for a couple of months and I just assumed this would be a "kill switch". To have a fresh start and restart from checkpoint or something like that.
But I couldn't do that. Not when I'd done a bunch of stuff. It took me a fair amount of time; a week to kind of process what happened. And I know it is just a "silly little internet blog" and a couple of fanfics, but this and many other instances has set this precedent where I just want to crawl into a hole, cry as much as I could and wake up to this fresh day where I can try again. I couldn't do that for two reasons:
My effort and time that have gone into writing things.
The good people here that need no introduction.
So yes. I'm not doing okay lol. I just assumed I could just push through it, but I just couldn't. Things were becoming a lot more difficult. I couldn't think. I couldn't sleep properly. And worst of all, I'd just sabotaged myself once again because I assumed either I wasn't "deserving" of it or I felt like I've done something wrong. Like this sickening feeling, you know?
I'm pretty sure I've pissed off a lot of people and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you! I promise. I'm trying to get better at understanding what I want, trying to better myself back at home. But it is a hard change to process. You wouldn't know the severity of your actions until way later. And yet at this moment, I have the same sickening feeling.
Now I won't go into very detailed reasons, because mental health talks can be quite sensitive and I really don't want to go into that conversation right now. My intention is not to "grab people's attention" or "stir up drama" and just offer an explanation as to why I'm not doing well and why I don't think I'll be very well. Plus, it is a personal subject and it is really not appropriate to you for me to drag anyone into this.
Who am I?
An absolute clown who deleted all her blog, her fanfictions and left and now has come crawling back because she clearly knows fanfictions are her only form of catharsis and is now knee-deep in a sea of thoughts (and not the good kind!)
Whew. That was a long sentence!
What happened to my works?
I didn't just delete my Tumblr blog, but I deleted all of my backups. Yes. I really went that insane XD! Google Drive, Docs, Canva edits, everything is at present, permanently deleted. And I mean, completely erased. Yes, I did delete them. Please put down your "MADS ARE YOU INSANE?!" comments because I am very aware of that!
I hope I can salvage some of my works through people's reblogs by stalking them lol, but I don't think it'd bear fruit. Mostly because Tumblr has this annoying "keep reading" thing where if you want to access the original post, you have to visit their blog and my blog is.. well.. deleted. So.. there.
Will I rewrite them from scratch?
I remember all of their premises and titles, but let's be real, my memory's pretty crap. I don't know, honestly. Maybe I'll rewrite the ones I really enjoyed and avoid putting pressure on this whole thing. I wanted fanfic to be a chill sort of experience; talking, reading, goofing off, but my brain had other plans.
Damn you, cerebrum!
Am I coming back from the dead? When will I keep writing again?
I'm gonna have to pace myself for sure. It'll happen when it happens.
Writing's a nice hobby for me, so I think it'd be a while before I quit it completely.
Am I going to be okay?
Yes. I'll be fine. I really don't want to draw people's attention to this very rant-y sensitive-y, ooey gooey feelingsy post , so I'm going to be disabling the reblogs. Honestly my mental health kind of sucks lately and I haven't sought out help. (I'm really heading for disaster, aren't I?)
But I am getting slowly better at the "think before you act" thing. I hope this doesn't happen again and I don't just go away. I'm kind of glad that my brain came to its senses and told me to knock it off. But the chances are, it is not going to be a permanent change. I'll try my best at being a good person, I suppose and not drag everyone into my messes! I'll also try to talk about things, assess them and maybe take better care of my health and not try to sabotage myself? I dunno. That's like asking a cheetah to stop running so fast.
But I'll pace myself in this regard. I know, fandoms are not something to get all worked up over, but it is real life at play here. My hobbies, academics, interests and others are just really unfortunate to be earning the short end of the stick.
Am I going to try and recover my works?
Maybe. I am not proud of them, but I do plan on trying to retrieve some of them. I love the process of it more than the finished product, so I really want to try and salvage some of them to calm my head into thinking I made a proper, wise decision for once.
You can't expect everyone to root for you, because you have to root for yourself.. at the very root of the problem (Ha!).
Is everything okay for me?
Yes. Okay.
I am truly sorry. I know this stupid explanation probably doesn't make sense and there's tons of stuff out there and I'm just a sitting duck here lol. But I hope for good things.
Things are.. hard at home to say the least. Fandoms and real life cannot mix. They're immiscible. Like oil and water, because things will soon get ugly.. which lead to big Apology Posts at 3 in the morning, like these. I'll try to handle things better and not let it affect my work and interests, but it is just hard. So freaking difficult. :( It's like, I can't even get out of bed these days. It is probably the deepest slump I've ever hit. And "slump" is too short of a word and too shallow of an estimate.
Once again, I am so sorry for this absence and this sudden disappearance. I promise I won't pull off another Bilbo Baggins, put on my One Ring and disappear again. I want to be honest and I hope this Apology Post suffices.
Don't be like me lol! I'm being serious! Please love what you do. It is heavily important. And it doesn't matter if you're writing cheesy romance or literal witchcraft. Please let it make you happy, even for just a moment, because happiness is very fleeting; at least in my perspective. It isn't about fandoms or hate or anything. If you love what you do and hold the highest, silliest hopes possible, nothing can ever bring you down.
And please don't delete your blog and vanish off and come back later with this. It is not worth the pain! If you're struggling, please get help or chart your own course to feeling better. Please let it not get intense and horrible and bad (and no, I'm not preaching or anything. I'm just echoing the words many people have already said before, with hope that nobody has to go through any of this or feel unwelcome or feel this need to delete and restart, because it isn't worth it at all.)
I hope you have a good day! See you! :)
#mads rants about pointless things because she's run out of content to write and is now resorting to shameless venting!#wahoo!
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 18
Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.
Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.
It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.
Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is of Legal Age, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker
Notes: Please remember to read the tags/warnings listed and read/avoid as best for you. YOU are responsible for the content you chose to consume on the internet.
--------
Chapter 18
--------
The following week Peter and Stephen were invited to a dinner party and to Peter’s surprise, Stephen made their very polite but firm excuse to leave just before dinner when their hostess announced the dinner of buttered steak, mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said as they drove to a nearby diner. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with anyone.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Stephen assured him. “I’m not going to force you to eat food you wouldn’t otherwise eat, nor am I going to expect you to go without while everyone else does.” He paused. “Also, Mordo’s wife is incapable of cooking steak anything other than well-done so really, you’ve done me a favor.”
Peter snorted out a laugh. “At least I’m good for something.”
“You have your uses,” Stephen teased, leading him into the diner.
They enjoyed a simple dinner of steak (cooked appropriately), eggs, and hash browns, after Stephen made it clear to the waiter that milk or butter wasn’t to be used on anything for Peter’s food. Their conversation was lighthearted and by the time Stephen paid and they were on their way home, something inside Peter ached.
His announcement to Billy that he’d be taking the rest of the week off surprised the man, he knew.
“Everything okay?” Billy asked.
“Yes, Peter and I have company coming, and our kitchen is being worked on,” he said. “I prefer to oversee everything.”
He didn’t elaborate further, hanging up his white coat and locking his office door behind him.
“Ah, heading out?”
Stephen turned to see Dr. Richards.
“I am,” he confirmed. “I have guests to pick up at the air hanger in Upper York.”
“That’s wonderful!” Richards enthused. “Have a good rest of your week and enjoy your visitors!”
Managing a “thank you,” Stephen left. He wasn't in the mood to indulge a member of the board, especially Richards.
He called Peter before he pulled out of the parking garage. “Hi!” came Peter’s cheerful greeting. “Are you heading up to Upper York?”
“I will once I swing by and pick you up,” Stephen confirmed. “The four of us will have dinner while we’re there and then I’ll drive us all back.” He checked his watch. “Be ready in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be the one standing outside in the wool jacket,” Peter promised.
Peter couldn’t stop the nerves that had him tapping his toes while he and Stephen waited at the arrival dock.
He couldn’t believe he was actually going to meet Tony Stark! He, Peter Par… Peter Strange was going to meet one of the most brilliant engineers in the world! How was this his life now?
“He’s just another man, Peter,” Stephen murmured to him.
Peter looked up at him. “I know that, logically, but he’s literally in our textbooks! He’s credited with launching the American States into its golden era, along with Hank Pym!” He stilled. “Do you know Hank Pym, too?”
Stephen sighed. “No, I only know the one messiah.”
Peter snorted. “I wouldn’t go so far as to deify him.”
“Good to know you have a line you won’t cross in the name of science.”
When passengers of the newly docked zeppelin began disembarking, Peter looked eagerly to see if Mr. Stark and his wife were in the first group. They weren’t. Soon enough the second wave of passengers departed, and Peter saw them.
Tony Stark wasn’t as tall as he’d expected, but he was still taller than Peter. So was the very pretty blonde woman with him, who he assumed was his wife, Sharon. Their appearance wasn’t flashy, there were no fans waiting to swarm the man who had just that January been declared Person of the Year by TIMES for the third time. He and his wife looked like any other ordinary couple.
“I see you forgot the red carpet,” Mr. Stark said, once he and Sharon had made their way to them.
“We can’t have your overinflated head competing with the zeppelins, now can we? The passengers would get confused,” Stephen drawled.
Peter was horrified at the rudeness, but Sharon actually laughed!
“Finally, I’m around someone else who can share the Sisyphean task of popping Tony’s ego,” she exclaimed.
“It’s a heavy burden to bear,” Stephen said. But he was smiling. “It’s good to see you both. I’d like to introduce you to my husband, Peter Strange.”
Peter’s face, he was sure, was burning red. “H-hi,” he stumbled. “It’s nice to meet me. You, I mean it’s nice for you to meet me. I mean, um, oh shit I’m sor-”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Sharon said kindly. “Stephen hasn’t told us nearly enough about you.”
He rubbed at the back of neck, feeling like an absolute idiot for embarrassing himself so badly in front of Tony Stark. “There’s not really anything interesting about me, so that checks out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stephen said. “There’s plenty interesting about you.”
“Your paper in the Van Dyne Science Journal on the potential medical uses for spider silk was impressive,” Mr. Stark finally said, holding out his hand. "I’d love to pick your brain on it, if we have time during our visit.”
“Oh!” Peter eagerly shook the man’s hand. “Yeah, that’d be great, Mr. Stark!”
“Please, call me Tony, I insist.” He looked at the group. “I guess all that’s left to do is pick up our luggage and then go eat,” he said.
They made their way to the luggage claim and Peter insisted on carrying the luggage Tony and Sharon had checked. He was, he told them, a lot stronger than he looked and they had to be tired after their long flight. The cases rolled along easily, and the two bags weren’t terribly heavy.
“The cabinet will be delivered tomorrow,” Tony told Stephen. “It’s coming from our manufacturing site in Pennsylvania.”
Stephen nodded. “It’s four now and our reservation isn’t until six-thirty. We have time to kill so is there anything you two need to pick up?”
They didn’t, so after storing the luggage in the trunk of Stephen’s Buick, they decided to just wander around downtown Upper York and visit shops as they took their fancy.
Peter hadn’t seen Stephen so relaxed around other people before, save for the few times they’d met up with Clea and Ava from next door. But Stephen was joking and laughing with both Tony and Sharon, and it was clear that the three of them were good friends. He was happy to just listen and be around them, enjoying this new side to Stephen.
“So, the doc here is treating you right?” Tony asked while Sharon was browsing a chic boutique that was having a sale on cashmere sweaters and handbags.
Stephen stiffened at the question, but Tony rolled his eyes at the irritation. “Go on,” he encouraged Peter with a grin. “Spill.”
“Oh, um, yeah, he’s been great, mostly,” Peter said shyly. “A few hiccups, but I guess that would be true for any marriage.”
He did not look at Stephen to gauge his reaction.
“Good,” Tony said. “Stephen here needs someone that can keep him from being such a stick in the mud. He's far too serious.”
If Peter had had a drink, he’d have spat it out.
“This really isn’t appropriate,” Stephen said.
“Is that so? I seem to recall that you had no problem asking Sharon the same types of questions when I married her,” Tony said.
“That was different,” Stephen insisted lamely.
“It wasn’t, but I’ll let it drop for now,” Tony said airily. “Oh, looks like the missus wants to make a purchase. Excuse me.”
“Thank you for indulging him,” Stephen said quietly while Tony went to the register to pay for the items Sharon had selected. “If he asks anything that makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, okay,” Peter said. “I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?”
Stephen’s lips twitched. “No. I’m thrilled to hear that I’m mostly great.”
“I just figured that honestly may not be the best policy,” Peter teased.
“Brat.”
“So, where are we eating?” Peter asked. He didn’t know how fancy a meal Tony and Sharon would be expecting or if he’d be stuck with just a salad.
Stephen named a restaurant that had him gaping. “You want to take Tony Stark to a burger place?” he asked, horrified.
Stephen shrugged. “I didn’t pick the place, he did. He and Sharon both are something of burger fiends. I checked the place out when I made the reservation, and they can accommodate your diet easily.”
“Okay then,” Peter said. “And to think I dressed up for this.”
“It can’t always be champagne wishes and caviar dreams,” Stephen said dryly.
Tony and Sharon joined them again, Sharon now carrying several bags.
“And we’re walking, we’re walking,” Tony started and the outing continued.
Every so often a zeppelin would pass over them and each time, Peter looked up to watch, fascinated.
“You like airships?” Tony asked when he noticed where Peter���s attention would drift.
“They’re amazing,” Peter said. “Especially since they drove the creation of a synthetic element. That’s never been done before and its uses have gone way beyond air travel. The medical uses for synthetic helium are incredible.”
Tony was positively beaming. “Stephen here said you were a man of science. I’m glad he wasn’t leading me on a three-step.”
“I like the hard sciences, at least,” Peter clarified.
“Smart man,” Tony agreed. Seeing the amused looks both Stephen and Sharon were giving him he shrugged defensively. “What?”
They returned to the Buick to put away their purchases and then drove twenty minutes to the burger place Tony had apparently chosen for dinner.
They were shown to a booth in the back, away from the slew of other patrons. He sat across from Sharon and next to Stephen.
“This is cozy,” Tony said. “Boy, girl, boy, boy.”
Stephen actually rolled his eyes and Peter wanted to laugh. He was really enjoying watching Tony get under his husband’s skin.
Peter hadn’t had a cheeseburger since he was fifteen and in his “rebellious” phase. The few he’d had had been delicious, but not something he exactly missed. He was disappointed that if he ordered a regular burger, he couldn’t order one of the milkshakes that were being advertised. They looked amazing.
The waiter brought them menus and Peter immediately flipped to the vegan offerings. There were plant-based burgers along with vegan cheeses that had apparently earned the restaurant rave reviews. He noticed the seals next to certain items certifying them as kosher and he considered his options. He studied the page of milkshakes.
“Don’t tell me we’re doing this again,” Tony was saying, drawing his attention away from the menu.
“All I’m saying is that anything under a quarter of a pound isn’t worth the time,” Sharon argued. “It would be a light snack at most.”
“I could go for a quarter pound burger cooked well done,” Stephen said.
Sharon shot him a deadly look. “You’re a monster,” she said. “Medium rare is the perfect temperature for a burger. No excuses.”
Peter cleared his throat. She looked at him.
“That doesn’t really apply to plant-based burgers,” he said sheepishly. “They’re best cooked medium for the best texture.”
“Okay,” she amended with a wink. “There’s one excuse.”
Peter smirked at Stephen and Tony’s annoyed expressions.
They put in their orders when the waiter returned and since he’d gotten a vegan burger with fries, Pete went ahead and treated himself to an old-fashioned strawberry milkshake.
After their dinner Stephen drove the four of them back to Sanctum Heights. Peter mentally reviewed all of the cleaning he’d done in preparation to have overnight guests and hoped there wasn’t anything he’d missed. He’d bought more groceries than usual when he’d gone out the day before, knowing he’d be cooking for four people instead of just himself and Stephen. He’d changed the bedding in the guest room and ensured that Stephen’s bedroom was tidy since it had the main bathroom.
Satisfied he’d done his best, he let himself relax in the backseat with Sharon, while Tony rode up front with Stephen.
“Not a bad ride,” Sharon commented when they’d finally pulled into Stephen’s driveway. “You’d make a good chauffeur, Stephen.”
Peter made a noise of disagreement. “Mr. Hogan with the car service is better,” he said. “Happy always greets me with a smile.”
“Good for Happy,” Stephen drawled.
Peter carried the luggage inside and upstairs to the guest room. Doing a quick look around reassured him that he was providing a clean, welcoming home to his visitors, just like the housekeeping magazines talked about. Catching sight of the picture frames of his parents, aunt, and uncle, he gathered them up and stuck them in a drawer. Best to not invite questions, he decided.
He joined the group downstairs, where Tony was settled in one of the armchairs with Sharon sitting on his lap. He did nothing to hide where his hand was rubbing her upper thigh and her cheeks were very pink. Stephen sat in the other chair and Peter flat out said “I’m not sitting in your lap,” and instead sat at Stephen’s feet.
If it were just the two of them, he wouldn’t have minded, but in front of company? No, he couldn’t imagine being so bold. He didn’t mind that Tony and Sharon were okay with it, but he wasn’t sure his flush would ever fade if he parked himself on Stephen’s lap where others could see.
Stephen had the radio on, and soft jazz music was playing.
“So, what do you crazy kids do for fun around here?” Tony asked.
“I like to run,” Peter said. “And I visit with my neighbor Ava like twice a week.”
“We have something of a standing date night on Fridays,” Stephen added. “We listen to a radio show and play board games.”
“What radio show?” Sharon asked.
“Rex Gladstone,” Peter said.
“Can you believe that his sister was an Italian spy?” she asked eagerly.
“I know!” Peter exclaimed. “I knew something had to be up, but not that drastic!”
“And that poor beagle, oh my goodness I was so relieved it’s okay!”
Tony and Stephen exchanged an amused look.
“I called it,” Stephen admitted. “It was the secretary that surprised me.”
Tony snorted. “It’s definitely an entertaining show.”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “Scoff all you want; I’ve seen the way you clench your hands when he’s in a tight spot.”
“Because I’m hoping the show will break for an ad and I might hear one of mine,” Tony insisted, fooling no one.
When Stephen began threading his fingers between his hair, Peter leaned against Stephen’s leg. He loved when Stephen played with his hair; it usually only happened in bed. It always relaxed him and made him feel as though he were cherished. It wasn’t a flashy display like their guests, but it felt perfectly suited to what he had with Stephen.
“Any other excitement?” Tony asked.
“We go to museums,” Peter said. “And I haven’t gotten to experience them here yet, but I’m looking forward to the local fairs that will be held in the spring and summer. Midtown was too urban to have much of that, so I think it will be fun.”
“I never pictured you as domesticated,” Tony said to Stephen. “It suits you.”
Stephen shrugged. “Since I fell out with some of my colleagues, socialization hasn’t held much appeal. I’ve found that I like being home.”
Something in Peter warmed.
“Good company?” Sharon teased.
“The best company,” Stephen said.
“Right,” Tony said. “I promised Share-bear here I wouldn’t spend our whole trip working, so what kind of board games do you have?”
“You’re a miracle worker,” Stephen told Sharon.
“The things we do for love, right?” Tony asked. Peter hoped he meant it rhetorically. He wouldn't be able to answer that question and he wasn't sure he'd want Stephen to answer it, either.
They ended up playing a board game called Aggravation, which Peter and Stephen hadn’t played because it needed four players to be truly enjoyable.
And it was enjoyable, especially because it was so cut-throat. Sharon in particular seemed to take great pleasure in sending Tony and Stephen’s marbles back to their home bases. Peter felt like he was taking his life in his own hands when he sent back one of Sharon’s marbles.
Tony ended up winning, with Peter in second place.
It was nearly ten when they all headed upstairs to sleep, with Stephen the last to reach the second floor because he was securing the house for the night.
Peter made sure that Tony and Sharon had everything they needed and waited patiently as they used the restroom. He carried in an extra blanket, just in case, and set it on the gliding chair in the corner of the room. He told them he’d be cooking breakfast in the morning and bid them goodnight.
He was surprised to see Stephen getting into bed naked. Surely he wasn’t expecting… not with guests in the house!
“We can’t have sex!” he hissed, undressing, and pulling on a nightshirt.
Stephen snorted. “Oh?”
“We have guests, Stephen!”
“I’m aware,” Stephen said, amused.
“They might hear us! And they’ll know what we’re doing!”
“They’re adults and married. I’m pretty sure they know that we have sex.”
Peter was about to argue when he heard a low moan. A giggle. And then, the unmistakable squeak of a bed frame shifting around. His cheeks burned.
“It’s far from the first time they’ve fornicated in that bed,” Stephen said idly. “And my staying at their mansion in Malibu doesn’t deter them copulating there in the slightest.”
“I can’t,” he started.
“You will,” Stephen insisted. “Come to bed. Without the nightshirt; you won’t be needing it.”
Despite his worry, Peter could feel his cock pressing insistently against the cage at Stephen’s stern tone and he pulled off his nightshirt as well as his briefs. “They’ll hear us!” he warned Stephen.
“Then you’ll just have to take extra care to be quiet, won’t you?”
Peter knew enough to understand that it wasn’t a suggestion so much as a rule to follow and he ached with want as he climbed into bed, under the covers with Stephen.
He was in a rare playful mood. Being around trusted friends always seemed to draw that side of him out. He found Peter’s scandalized embarrassment at the banter between him and Tony and Sharon delightful. His young spouse could be so serious and prim at the oddest times about the oddest things.
More than that, the way Peter kept up intellectually with Tony, one of the smartest men Stephen knew was extremely attractive. He’d known that Peter was clever, but Tony and Peter’s casual discussion about a recent biomedical engineering paper over dinner had him planning just how he’d take his husband apart in bed.
(He’d internally nixed a couple of ideas because Peter just wasn’t ready for them, but he definitely wanted to make him ejaculate while caged again. The first time had been so satisfying.)
Telling Peter to spread his legs, Stephen grabbed the lubricant and slicked his fingers. The bottle was close to empty.
“You’re going to need to buy more,” he said as he started teasing Peter’s rim.
He watched with pleasure as the flush on Peter’s face increased. Peter had the prettiest blush of anyone Stephen had ever met. The reminders to buy lubricant always made Peter blush, particularly when delivered over breakfast.
When he worked a finger in, then two, finding Peter’s prostate was second nature. He teased his fingers back and forth over the sensitive gland, coaxing weak little whimpers from Peter. He thumbed over Peter’s perineum and had to quickly use his other arm to hold Peter down on the bed when his body surged up at the sensation with a small cry.
“Ah-ah. You’re to be quiet,” he said lowly. “You don’t want our guests to hear, do you?”
The sounds of a bed squeaking and not-so-soft moans could be heard from the guest room.
Peter flung an arm over his face and bit his lip. Stephen continued to massage the gland. He watched Peter’s expressions intently, pleased at the way his husband shivered and shuddered at the sensations.
Several long moments passed as Stephen drove Peter closer and closer to an edge he wouldn’t be able to fall over. Peter whimpered and squirmed, but Stephen stilled him as he kept up his rubbing of prostate and perineum. He twisted his fingers and scissored them every so often and watched eagerly as Peter let out a small gasp and began dribbling in his cage.
“Absolutely beautiful,” Stephen breathed out, gently thumbing away a tear that was making its way down Peter’s cheek.
He drew back and removed his fingers after one last firm rub and unlocked the cage. Peter’s cock, slim and pretty, hung flaccid against his thigh. Reaching for the bottle of lubricant, Stephen turned his attention to his own cock, heavy with arousal. He slicked himself up and urged Peter onto his belly, caging him against the bed in the way he loved to do.
“Remember,” he urged as he placed his cock at Peter’s hole. “Quiet.”
He pressed, eyes closing in pleasure as his cockhead met with a brief moment of resistance before it was swallowed in. He gave a long roll of his hips and slid deeper and deeper into Peter until he felt his testicles gently slap against Peter’s ass. He’d never grow tired of this.
Stephen took a moment to savor the feeling of being deep inside his young husband, pulled back and then began to thrust.
Beneath him Peter whimpered, and the sounds went straight to his cock. He shushed him quiet, cupping his mouth with one hand when the delightful little sounds didn’t seem as though they’d stop. He continued snapping his hips, working in and out of Peter with fervor that hadn’t faded since their first night. Their own bed was squeaking with the force of his thrusting and Stephen didn’t care who heard.
When Peter rutted helplessly against the mattress he sat back on his heels, still driving in and out of him. He reached down to stroke Peter’s cock, and at the first touch Peter gave a muffled shriek against his hand.
“Careful,” he warned. “You don’t want them to hear, do you?”
He worked Peter’s cock in time with his own thrusts, listening to the muffled whimpers, speaking of the bed frame, and the slapping sound of his testicles against Peter’s perfect little ass.
When Peter started clenching frantically around him, he upped his movements and just as Peter came, he removed the hand on his mouth so that Peter’s cry rang out loud and clear. Then he drove in once, twice, and stilled with a loud groan and spilled himself.
When he had enough wits to gather himself, he helped Peter up and walked them to the bathroom. He wiped himself down while Peter relieved himself. Then he cleaned Peter before attending to his own needs.
“I have no idea how I’m supposed to look either of them in the face tomorrow,” Peter said quietly once they were back in bed and under the heavy blankets.
“The same way you’ve looked at everyone since we’ve married,” Stephen said. “I’m not ashamed of having sex with my husband, and you shouldn’t be shamed by it either.”
“I’m not,” Peter insisted. “I just… sex wasn’t really talked about while I was growing up. I know my aunt and uncle did it, but I never heard them, and they never spoke about it. The most that they did was put a bottle of lotion in my bedroom one day before I got home from school when I was thirteen.”
“Well, Tony and Sharon decided to scar you with their impropriety so it’s only fair we returned the favor.”
Peter snorted. “Yes, you’ve re-established dominance in your home. I’m sure they’ll be properly chastened.”
"If you’re still able to be a brat I obviously didn’t use you hard enough."
“I'll do my best to hold my tongue then; I don’t want you to throw a muscle.”
“If I have to put you over my knee, it’s a risk I’ll take.”
“Sleep now, discipline me later,” Peter said through a long, loud yawn.
Stephen went to reply, but the soft snore told him it was a futile effort. Pleased with how the day had gone, he went to sleep himself.
--------
And a fun little graphic I made for Sharon and Tony in this AU. ❤️💙
#spiderstrange#spideystrange#peter parker x stephen strange#stephen strange x peter parker#1950s modern fusion au#1950s au#READ THE FUCKING TAGS#NO SERIOUSLY READ THEM#couldntbedamned fic#peter parker#stephen strange#tony stark#sharon carter#tony stark x sharon carter#sharon carter x tony stark
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
the captain/havers - how the captain died - fluff + angst
read on ao3
"what about you, captain? do you want to share anything this week?" pat asked. they were all sat in the main hall for their newly formed talking club, allison included. "yes, actually. i do," he said nervously after a few seconds. "i believe it's finally time to share with you all how i died." julian glanced at him with a mix of sympathy and shock. robin laughed loudly. "you death boring. you sleep, not wake up. me save us all time, who next?"
"that's not quite how i remember it, robin," the captain chuckled nervously.
"you don't have to, you know," alison reassured. "i know it can't be easy talking, especially for you."
"no, no. i'm ready."
"take your time, mate." pat patted his shoulder.
"it started when i met my lieutenant..."
———————————————
"the names havers, sir. i have been sent to help you lead this bunch of troops." havers put his hand out for his superior to shake.
"you can call me captain. i shall show you to your quarters."
"yes sir."
———————————————
"we spent a lot of time together, discussing everything from important matters and war developments to our families and homes. we were inseparable and, over time, i felt myself falling in love with this young man."
fanny let out a loud gasp that was met with a hard shove by thomas. the captain hung his head. "i know. it was disgraceful of me, but i couldn't help it. i found myself paying far too much attention to the way his dimples made him impossibly cuter whenever he smiled, the way he laughed, how easy it was to get lost in his eyes. i hid it, of course. i didn't want to get reported. but that changed on one of his nightly visits..."
———————————————
the knock on the door came later than usual, but the captain welcomed him in as normal.
"ah, william! at ease old boy!" he smiled. havers smiled back with his adorable smile and captain felt his cheeks heat up as they always did. william sat down in the chair next to him, overlooking the grounds. "captain! how are you this fine evening, sir?"
"i'm marvellous. what about you?"
"very much the same, sir." the conversation flowed as normal for hours, until havers bought up the topic of wives.
"i say, sir, i don't believe you've heard the news about old david, have you?"
"oh yes. he is to be wed, is he not?"
"he is! i don't understand the excitement, in all honesty. women have never really my area of internet." havers smirked. the captain stared at him in shock, before nodding in silent agreement. william leaned closer to his captain, daring to place a calloused hand on his rough cheek. they leaned closer again, closed their eyes and met each other's lips in a soft kiss.
———————————————
"you were in love! oh, how wonderful!" kitty exclaimed excitedly.
"yes, it was. it was invigorating and new, our little secret that no one else had to know. operation william, we named it. we met more frequently, going on walks round the grounds and longer evening visits. i even trusted him with my true name, which he never called me by. i was always his teddy. our time together always ended with a passionate kiss. and everything was perfect. until it wasn't...."
———————————————
"if i may move the topic onto a different matter?" william asked, a tone of urgency in his voice that went undetected by the lovesick captain. "of course, darling. what do you wish to discuss?"
"i- i put in a transfer request. to north africa, sir." the captain felt his heart sink in his chest. "what?" he whispered. he stood up in disbelief. he felt williams familiar hand caress his cheek. "i'm sorry, teddy. i should have told you earlier, but i didn't know how. i've been considering it for a while, but i can't sit around here, doing nothing. i need to help on the front line. it's what my father would have wanted," william explained. the captain tore his stare from the floor, coming to meet his lovers eyes. "i understand. these things can't be helped, i suppose." he found himself cut off by the pressure of william's lips against his. "i have already been accepted. i leave at 1800 hours tomorrow evening." the captain said nothing, the tears rolling down his cheeks explanation enough. they stayed there for a while, silent, foreheads pressed together, william's hands cupping his teddy's face.
-———————————————
"he left me. i know it was no fault of mine, he just wanted to honour his father. but i felt alone. i didn't sleep or eat properly again for months. he left as suddenly as he arrived. and then i received the letter..."
———————————————
"for you, captain."
he grabbed the envelope and retired back to his room. he recognised the handwriting instantly, neat and loopy. it read 'operation william.' "my william?" his breath hitched. he tore it open, reading it quickly.
my dear teddy,
if you are reading this, i am dead. i intended to greet you again after the war, embrace you. perhaps we could have run away together, to the country. we would have lived happily, blissfully in love forevermore. but now i am gone, and that will never happen. i want you to know that i was well and truly in love with you. almost embarrassingly so. you were my teddy, and the thought of you was the only thing that got me through the harsh trenches. i missed your soft lips, the way your hands gripped my waist roughly but never hard enough to hurt me. i missed you. i know that your heart will ache at this news, but i want you to go on without me as you have bravely done already. i love you so, teddy.
my whole heart,
your william.
———————————————
he broke down in sobs, remembering the heartache he felt that night. "i couldn't bear the pain. the thought that i would never get to see my darling william again, it was too much. so i poured myself a glass of whiskey, william's favourite, and added a few drops of arsenic. i went to bed that night and woke up the next morning a ghost." the room was silent, apart from the captains intermittent sobs. "we never knew." thomas spoke finally. "we all thought you had a heart attack in your sleep or something. we didn't know you did... that."
"it was a cowardly death. i shouldn't have let my feelings control me so, but i did." a voice - humphrey's - arose from the table. "i think it's beautiful. you loved him so much. love is nothing to be ashamed of, captain. i would salute you if i could." the rest of the ghosts and allison raised their hands to their foreheads. "thank you." the captain said. as they all left, kitty walked over to him. "i would love to hear some more stories of your william some time." she smiled, leaving captain smiling, too. he would love to tell them.
#ok hello i want to apologise for this its so bad lol#caphavers#ghosts bbc#fanfiction#angsty#fanfic#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts the captain#bbc ghosts havers#bbc ghosts alison#bbc ghosts fanfic#pat butcher#julian fawcett#robin bbc ghosts#the captain x havers#fanny button#thomas thorne#kitty bbc ghosts#humphrey bone#capvers
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Firsts Of Many
At the wise old age of 3, there I was, sat on my father's lap staring at the sheer carnage caused by the enemy soldiers. I remember him playing as a plumber turned war hero in a Soviet occupied America(kind of propaganda?), yes I'm talking about "Freedom Fighters(2003)". Quite a odd choice for a first game, but I still remember the entire game like its the back of my hand.
Some people are slightly surprised when I tell them that my father was the one who introduced me to gaming, which at that point of time was considered bad parenting on his part. Yet I think that he taught me to think rationally, plan ahead, keep a strict moral code as well as ethics in order to back up my decisions, but the most important of all he taught me how to win as well as how to lose.
There was still however one slight problem, we had to play in turns as there was only one device. One could only imagine my sheer joy when dad brought home a laptop that was given to him for work. We began getting games that primarily were multiplayer and that's where I at the age of roughly 7 ended up meeting my first online friend named "Jinx", and thus an unlikely trio was formed with Jinx, my dad and me. That's where I was exposed to my first online experience ,(I still cant beat my dad at it) Counter Strike 1.6(2001). Being quite a competitive game I was exposed to the bad side as well as the good side of the internet yet was still protected by both my dad and Jinx.
My journey in the world of gaming has been quite weird yet quite a lot of fun, I wouldn't trade it for anything. My childhood was defined by the games as they helped shape me who I am, only molded by the guidance of my father. Takes me back to the old Halo days when Master Chief said,
"We all fail. We all make mistakes. It's what makes us humans"
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?
For Prussia.
Ow, my heart. Anon, I love you, but damn... 😭 Ok, ok. I thought this would be a short answer, but I went deep and started internalizing my own experiences, so this is WAY LONGER than intended, but I hope you enjoy my thoughts anyway. Obviously, TW for discussions of death.
First thing we need to remember is that Prussia, like most nations, has seen death before. His earliest encounter with death was probably in battle, not necessarily to himself, but to his humans. Luckier nations might witness the slow death of an old human woman, a matriarch safe in her home, surrounded by family. And that’d be their first experience with it. But in his childhood, Prussia was originally the Teutonic Knights, the representative for a band of crusaders. Whether he participated in the fights or he was kept back to view the carnage from a distance, violent death at the end of a spear was a normal occurrence immediately.
Not to say he enjoyed it, but rather, he adapted to it, in a way that death doesn’t shock him the way it might shock you or I.
Ah, but a human’s death and a nation’s death are different! Prussia's seen this too, had a part to play in some of these events himself. But watching a nation die (for good) probably feels a little different from watching a human pass. It’s like witnessing the end of an era.
So... Holy Rome. Before losing his title as Prussia in the 20th century, the death of Holy Rome was his closest, most personal experience with mortality. This was someone Prussia knew his whole life. He called this 1000-year-old child his brother, sat at his bedside, and played the flute for him. He watched him grow sick and weak, eventually withering away to nothing. I think this had an incredible impact on Prussia, as familial deaths often do to anyone, even people who are accustomed to death.
(Note: Btw, Holy Rome’s passing was a massive shock throughout Europe at the time, with some members of the Empire openly mourning the loss, saying that the world was no longer a God-fearing place. Kingdoms tried to form replacement Empires, but they failed and fell apart quickly.)
So when he was broken apart by the victors of WW2, Prussia knew what to expect. He’d had multiple chances to witness death in many forms, human and non-human, aware that nothing could be done to stop it, and centuries to build a relationship with the end. Behind the Iron Curtain, he had additional time to consider his mortality, and now...?
I think he’s just happy to still be around.
Everyone reacts to news of their own demise differently. Some folks get angry, resentful, bitter, depressed... But I don’t think Prussia is like that. I think he enjoys everyday to the fullest; poking fun at Germany, staying out late for drinks with his old friends, jamming out to his German rock albums (the vinyl ones especially). And he’s neither mourning or ignoring his death, but he’s accepting of it.
So back to the question: Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying? Yes, of course. He has thoughts about it because it’s his whole life now. But despite everything, he’s had time to prepare and he’s okay with it, so much so that it makes his friends uncomfortable, and they wonder why he isn’t punching walls everyday. They can’t understand how he gets out of bed in the morning, how he runs his internet blog (remember that?), or how he can even crack an honest smile.
But he’s just making the most of whatever little time he’s got left.
#hws prussia#aph prussia#gilbert beilschmidt#hetalia headcanons#hetalia#ask game#tw death#my headcanons
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
thoughts on culture and social media that english-speakers might wanna read
THIS IS NOT A GUILT-TRIPPING POST IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. i am merely sharing a point of view for the sake of exchange, i promise! 😁😉
americans and even first world english speakers have absolutely no idea how it feels to be fully bilingual and engage in international social media
from time to time you will find yourself in an (actually somewhat serious) identity and cultural crisis that will legitimately start to affect your mental health without you even noticing. it creeps up on you and you dont realize just how uttely lost you truly are until something happens and you spend some hours heavily engaging into your own culture and language and then it just clicks. suddenly you feel lighter, your mind more at peace. and it sometimes it can go on for months, even years, without you realizing where that disconfort is coming from. feels like there is a mist surrounding you very soul but you have the hardest fucking time putting your finger on it.
now to the part it might anger some (arguably immature) people from tumblr:
i had some serious body dysmorphia (had surgery since then, thank god), and i consider myself somewhat NB. as in, some days i feel like the girliest diamond-simping disney-like princess and the others i am the grimmiest most charmingly roughish of victorian era urchins. most days are close to a middle ground, of course
im only sharing this tidbit to really drive home the point i am trying to make: feeling far removed and disconnected from your culture can be psychologically compared to being forced to present your body/gender in a way that makes you unconfortable for prolongued periods of time
in this post i will try to pinpoint and explain the actual core of the issue, where (i believe, from an university level of understanding of the subject) everything stems from.
again, i am not making this post to guilty trip anyone, for the love of god. to the contrary, i wish social media was still dominated by my culture (long live Orkut lol). it is comfortable. there is nothing wrong with being in your confort zone (with some small moderation), no matter what tumblr tries to tell you. the human race has been struggling for 30k+ years to improve comfort. hell, id love to have that privilege of cultural prevalence in social media, aint gonna be hypocritical about it
i just wish native english speakers, in special those from the USA, kept in mind our way of speaking, our sentence conatruction, even the choice of slang translation we use. none of that is truly 100% "unpoluted". a lot of times we are trying our hardest to get to a close aproximation of our native language "personality".
tumblr and especially twitter could be a little more patient with it. its is damn fucking hard to master the flick of the switch to another language, let alone needing to change your whole manner of speaking because someone, somewhere, think you might be offending someone else, somewhere else
english speakers are fortunate that their native language became the world's Lingua Franca in a way that was natural. not "forced" like french way back when, or mandarin most recently. english flows. english is easy. i freaking love english my dudes, i literally majored in english translation. but when you dont have the need to learn a second language, it becomes, THROUGH NO FAULT OF YOUR OWN, natural to assume some text on the internet is being written under the same cultural and socio-econonical optics as you were raised in. ESL has become so commonplace, even more so for the last 5~10 years, that its nearly impossible to tell what country that person might actually be from.
and therein lies the problem: assumption. different people do things in different ways. there are some that are better and healtier than others (including from, yes, "third world" countries) there are some that are boarding inhumane (including from, yes, "first world" countries). but the massive majority? its simply different. if it works for you and your family and your peers, then it works. simple as that.
but on social media you only have text. how many feuds have been sparked because of the lack of intonation in text? everyone and theirs grandma's parrot has a story of miscommunication when texting. but when you add in manner of speech and cultural traits to it, it becomes a complicated issue
and then we ESL speakers overcorrect. even subconsciously, we start to shape ourselves to the native-english culture (mostly american, for the obvious reason called "sheer numbers"). but its not our actual culture. dont get me wrong, the more you can incorporate different points of view in your life the better. fuck, god knows how badly we need this in the world right now. nothing wrong with implementing it in your daily life and even your own "personal culture" and ways. hell, just see my spotify to understand how much i love punk rock, an initially political/cultural movement that doesnt even apply to my history 😂
but as i said, we are somewhat forced to overcorrect. and THAT causes more anxiety and anguish than people can possibly imagine. youre ESL reading this and think its not that bad, it cant possibly affect you that much?
allow me to demonstrate:
i cannot possibly expect an american (you will understand why i singled you out in a sec) to understand why is it that brazilians bore no ill will towards germany after the 7x1 or why is it that this last world cup in specificthe fault was actually on the coach and what were his strategy errors, or why the fault was on the players in 2014, or even WHY the players bevahed so, etc etc etc etc. soccer football simply isnt your culture. i only know of Tom Brady's existence cause of Gisele. Michael Jordan? 98% Space Jam, 2% the Air Jordan murders way back when. I have only a vague idea who Babe Ruth is, and keeping score in baseball sounds legit worse than quantum physics.
i cant expect you to answer the diference between bossa nova and samba, samba and axé, axé and pagode, pagode and samba, samba and tropicalia, tropicalia and bossa nova. and which group of people founded what, and why, and if it was for protest what they were protesting against. i cant expect you to know why the first election against bolsonaro in 2028 was worse than sophie's choice for the massive majority of us. and why the second in 2022 was another matter entirely. i cant expect you to know what the word "caiçara" means (or even that it exists!) and howcome its a different ethnicity than the ones simply 70km away, and a whole other ethnicity with the same word if used in another state
then why do all of us ESL people need to fully and nearly college-level understand the insane intricacies of american politics? why am i expected to view the mere fucking concept of police as evil incarnated, through the eyes of a country that has basically zero training of their force? why do i need to think and behave according to an apartheid-influenced race theory in my daily life, in my own country, when im not even from those ethinicities? why do i need to see gender pay gap and patriachism the exact same way, if the foundation of families (and labor law, lol) in my culture is nearly the opposite?
i belive, like, 90% of the people reading this by now will have clicked on what im getting at.
because for good or for worse, english is here to stay. no, chinese wont take over as Lingua Franca, not even in the bussiness world, and i could quite literally write a monography on the subject as to why. no, like, i actually can, i have an university degree in it. so yes international media is in english. that boat has sailed, that horse has been shot Inês agora é morta
ESL speakers obviously know that. we had to adapt to it.
but how much before "adapting" becomes "submissive"? well, i dont know the precise answer but id wage around 6~7 bus stops ago
so all i ask if that native english speakers consider that as well. we adapted, so can you. we are speaking your language, yes. we are engaging in your culture as well along with it.
but its almost 2023. isnt it time to realize that the culture of speaking english might not be only yours anymore? 😉😝
we try to stay away from everything that is widly known as offensive, obviously. most people know where The Line TM stands for most english speaking cultures. i hardly see a quid pro quo in this, but as i stated before, i dont expect people from other cultures to understand the intricacies of mine. everyone is subject to commiting a faux pas, everyone here is human ffs.
the issue is that i see native english speakers being actively but gently corrected on an honest mistake, aaaaaand then doubling down on it under the argument "this is english speaking media". or worse, an ESL person also commiting an honest mistake but then being canceled for all eternity because it didnt fit the english cultural optics.
social media is for all. english now is, like it or not, for all. we ESL folks dont mean to offend. and more: lot of faux pas are not even offensive to us at all in translation. and theres some english expressions that sound wrong to our ears but we let it slide
i think its high time we all come together to a middle ground yes? we are willing to learn, we have been for quiiiiiite a while. but maybe, juuuust maybe, not every different way of speaking in english and point of view should be considered "problematic" if it comes from a diferent cultural optic, hmmmm?
as for the culture-privation anguish i started this with? well, if you spend so much time trying to pretend to change your very principles for the sake of not being unjustly attacked by internet strangers, it will no doubt cause anxiety (to put it fucking mildly).
do a "going back home" session. take an afternoon to actively engage in music and media from your country. no social media involved. im willing to bet with the craziness thats our world, whatever language you speak shit is utterly chaos there as well. meditate on the messages of the lyrics and the plots of the series/movies/books and everything else in it. no need to go on a full monastery-like deep dive, or even to do it super frequently. it aint court-mandated therapy, relax.
but you may have gotten much more lost on that path away from your roots than you first realized. and stopping to find your way back, even if for a couple of hours, will do your mental health so much good.
as for the english speakers, just try to keep in mind the point of view i have exposed 😉
no need to agree, no need to change. hell, truthfully no need to even keep in mind if you dont want to, i suppose. but not everyone shares you issues, strenghts, and optics. not everyone has the same life story, or even history.
and remember: at the end of the day we are all the same species, sharing the same planet. we have more in common than you think 😉
#jesus fuck how do you even tag this?#probably under: things that will get ignored cause of my pitiful amount of followers 😂#if anyone has any tagging sugestion im all ears#my stuff#my writting#just so i can find later lol
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wanna tell you guys about bump groups.
Pregnancy is a weird time. If you did it on purpose then it’s great and full of joy, but it’s also fuckoff terrifying and physically unpleasant. And isolating in ways I could go into, but we’d be here all day.
So what people do, in this internet age, is they form bump groups. So say you’re due in July of 2019, your bump group is July19 and you find ‘em on Reddit, Facebook, Discord, or Baby Center. And these are your new friends. These are the people you scream to about baby names and Pinteresty announcements and how you told your partner. And the people you complain to and with that you got sick on the subway, you fell asleep at your desk, all you can think about is sushi oh my god how are we all going to survive eight more months.
And in these happy, supportive, bonding on speed run environments, tragedy fucking stalks. You lose about a fourth of your newfound friends within the first few months. They lose their babies, maybe gently at home, or violently, in emergency rooms, under emergency conditions.
It’s harrowing. They were so happy. Maybe you were due date twins. Maybe both of you were due 7/3/19, you had matching tags in your usernames, you’d both been advised to have a c-section and you were terrified already but they were calm and happy, they talked to you for hours, you felt so much better, why would this happen to them?
The group moves on. Life moves on, the life you are building as a background task pays no notice to any of this. So you move on. At 12 weeks you all have the NIPT test done, checking your shared blood for genetic abnormalities. As an afterthought, or as the only thought if that’s all you can stomach, the test also tells you the sex. Members scattered across the month report back with a new addition to their username, a blue or pink or green heart emoji. (”Team green! We want to be surprised!”)
Except for a handful of members, who are told their babies have fatal conditions incompatible with life. 100% fatality, no room for miracles. Cells that have lost their way and cannot be helped, people whose only choice is how soon they would like to miscarry, if their body doesn’t decide for them.
You knew them better, some of them. They posted screenshots of the Ovia app, roasting the chipper tone of the weekly updates on fetal development. They had a cat, or a bird, or a horse, yes a horse that they would post regular pictures of.
You miss them.
20 weeks is next. The anatomy scan, a long ultrasound checking that all fingers and toes are accounted for, that the baby’s organs are on the inside. That the little body inside of you remembered to grow a brain stem. Which is a lot to consider, so you all just talk about the baby pictures, a long spooling row of black and white face shots that the ultrasound tech will hand to you, an opportunity, as soon as now, to start debating from whom baby gets their nose.
You lose more members. Somehow you weren’t expecting it. Three of them, three new holes in your community. One was carrying her third pregnancy. She posted detailed answers to questions from anxious first time parents. She wrote a list of recommended products, the things that actually worked and twenty of you have built nurseries from it that may as well be shrines to her knowledge.
She’s gone. It would be too painful, for both of you, for her to keep in touch.
24 weeks is viability. The odds of survival at premature delivery tipped over to 50/50. The collective sigh of relief goes mostly unmentioned as you each, over 31 days, pass that invisible milestone.
Someone goes into labor before the moderators have discussed how they’ll handle delivery threads. Shock rocks the userbase. Now you’re supporting a NICU parent in your midst.
So for the second user, a few weeks later, you feel prepared for the outcome. You’re ready with the same platitudes that helped the first.
You’re not ready for her, too, to be banished by her loss.
Halfway through June, and thank fuck the mods have got delivery threads figured out, because people are using them. Users suddenly sport a bright red “IN LABOR!” tag, flipping over to a proud blue “GRADUATE” label five or twenty-four or seventy-two hours later. Spouses type from users phones, updating their online friends that the user is doing well, the user is sneaking in a little sleep, the user has been rushed to surgery but everything will be all right.
You have become so sadly accustomed to losing friends because their arms were empty, the two of you driven apart by grief. It hadn’t occurred to you that you could lose one beyond all reach. Her partner tells you, abruptly, and then goes offline. A week later, someone has found her obituary. You never knew her last name until now.
And then. Then it’s over. Everyone is on the other side. You’ve all gained so much.
You’ve all seen so much loss.
Please do not hurt my friends any further. Let them get the care they need when everything is hopeless and all they have to salvage are their lives. Access to safe abortions lessens the pain of grieving parents. People who want children sometimes need abortions too.
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lisalifework
Lisa
winduptataru
on our fates alight
itaiphantom
Itai
sketcheveria
i moved to thirtythreedeer
professor-johnson-blog
Class is in session