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moog-rt · 4 months ago

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ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.3]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

A/N: And the moment we've all been waiting for!!

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

You staggered down the hall as best you could. The majority of your joints had been encased in hardened clumps of clay from your last match. It turned what should have been a mindless task into quite the obstacle.

Carefully putting all of your weight onto one leg, you would swing the other in front of you before transitioning your weight to that one. It was tedious, as there were a couple times your balance was off and you’d wobble for a few seconds before regaining your footing.

You felt like you were practicing for the next Lego movie.

Every few minutes, you would pause to hammer at the clay deposits with a metal water bottle you’d found on a bench. You didn’t know whose it was, but you’d be sure to return it once you were done.

Part of you hoped it belonged to the bastard student that put you in this situation to begin with.

You understood that the UA Sports Festival was all about competing and whatnot, but the guy could have at least removed the clay once the round was over. Now, you were stuck being somewhat incapacitated until you got it all off.

You were barely making a dent with the water bottle, so you prayed that the nurse had something in her arsenal that could at least help you wiggle out.

You leaned down once more to start battering away at the large clump around your knee. By the time you realized your footing was off, it was too late as you slowly began falling forward. You yelped and waved your arms around in hope of regaining your balance, but it was all for naught.

Your body thudded to the floor, and you could hear metal ringing as the water bottle bounced and rolled out of reach. Groaning, you rolled onto your back and sat up as best you could. It took a moment before you concluded that you likely wouldn’t be able to get up without being able to bend your knees.

Maybe if you pushed yourself into a split, you could slowly inch your legs closer and closer together?

No. Even if you could get into the position, you would only be able to push yourself up as far as your arms could reach, then you’d be stuck again.

Finally, you rolled onto your belly, deciding that imitating an inch worm would be your best bet. You were able to make some progress as you pushed your butt into the air and walked backwards with your hands.

You were almost to a 90 degree angle before the clay plastered to the front of your shoes lost traction and began to slide away. Cursing under your breath, you quickened the movements of your arms, but rather than pushing you up, you were pushing your entire body backwards down the hall.

Until your feet caught onto something behind you.

Tilting your upper body around to look, you saw a pair of legs, and your feet were lined up perfectly with theirs. Immediately, you dropped back down to the ground and turned onto your butt to face the teenage boy. Your face was already burning up from being caught in such an awkward position, and when your eyes met the stranger’s, the heat flourished to your ears and neck.

“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry…” You adjusted your arms to better support you sitting up while you showed off a lopsided grin. “I just had the–uh–sudden urge to do some yoga. No one was around so I figured there was no better time than the present.”

The boy, no doubt an upperclassman, with crimson eyes and jet-black hair stared at you for a moment before kneeling down.

“Downward dog?” he asked as he reached forward to touch one of the massive clay chunks engulfing your knees. “I thought that pose was supposed to be stationary.”

“I took some creative liberty with it.” You looked away for a moment before you quickly jerked your leg away from him. “What are you doing?”

His eyes were harsh as they flickered up to your face. He grabbed hold of your leg and pulled it back toward him, causing you to fall back.

“Hey!” you yelped. Pushing yourself back up onto your elbows, you shot a glare at the stranger.

He paid you no mind and cupped one of your knees with his hand. “Helping. You were clearly struggling.”

“I think you and I have different definitions of help—"

The clay began crumbling away as if it were made of sand.

“Woah…” You stared as he freed you from your earthen shackles.

You bent your knees and elbows once all the clay was removed. Standing up never felt so good. You turned to thank your savior only to see he was already walking away.

“Uh, hey!” you shouted and trotted after him.

He looked at you from the corner of his eyes when you matched his pace.

“Thanks for that. I was gonna go to the nurse, but I don’t think she would have been much help,” you gleamed, watching him with a wide smile.

“It was no problem,” he said while keeping his gaze ahead of him as you trotted along at his side.

♡ ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the ominous hallway as you kept pace with Shigaraki. You were certain he thought you were out of your damn mind after you regaled him with all that had happened to you. He seemed the most interested when you expressed your detest for the ‘heroes’ of this society.

“So…when did you dye your hair?” you asked to break the painfully uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye but kept walking. “Never, why would I?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” you said and made a gesture towards your own head. “But your hair used to be black. What happened?”

“I don’t remember,” he grumbled, scrunching up his nose. “That was a long time ago.”

“Your hair’s supposed to be black.”

He made an exasperated noise and began walking faster. You had been bouncing questions off of him for the majority of your journey. He had been patient with you for the most part, but you knew you could only push him so far before he got fed up.

“Hey!” You quickened your pace to catch up. “Tenko, wait—”

You thudded into him when he stopped abruptly and spun around to face you.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, piercing into you with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you again.”

Your gaze bounced between both of his eyes before you stepped back. The two of you stayed that way for a moment before he turned around with a huff and continued down the hall. You followed in silence.

Shortly after your public freak-out, he corrected you for calling him Tenko. He went by Shigaraki Tomura here. You weren’t sure why he took on the surname of your sensei, but that was the least of your concerns. He also insisted that the people who were heroes have always been heroes, and the same went for the villains.

You were beginning to come to terms with the fact you were most likely in some kind of alternate reality. It wasn’t comforting by any means, but it was the best explanation you’d come up with thus far.

\Your eyes bore into Shigaraki’s back. He was vague when you asked where he was taking you. However, the warehouse you were in now was the same one that filled the space your agency once occupied. It felt somewhat eerie. You were walking through the ghost of the building that should have been there with a person who should be dead.

In a weird way, it was also comforting.

He led you through another open corridor and stopped at a large set of double doors. He paused for a moment, trying to be subtle as he glanced back at you, before pushing one of the doors open for you to walk through.

You waited for him to go in first, but you quickly got the message he was waiting on you. He stared you down as you passed by him. You felt as though you were under a microscope, like he was analyzing even your slightest movements and expressions.

To be fair, you were staring, as well. He was clearly much different than the person you remembered, and you had yet to figure out just how much of him was the same. You loved Tenko, but you also knew he could be touchy at times, so it was best for you to test the waters before diving in.

Upon entering the dilapidated room, you froze.

You had dreamt more dreams of your old friends than you could count. And not even one could compare to what you were seeing right now. You never would have imagined you’d find yourself in a room with everyone all together again. But here they were.

Everyone looked a little different, but even so, the familiarity that rushed through your veins made your eyes prick with tears. Your heartrate was picking up as your eyes darted around the room.

Years. It had been years since you’d last seen half of the people standing before you. You’ve stood beside them countless times before, and you’d imagined it many times since. However, in this moment, you were at a loss for words.

How often is it that you get to be reunited with your late comrades?

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—when your eyes landed on Jin, and you choked on whatever words were about to come out. Your throat constricted. It felt like everything around you was fuzzy, but it was clear around Jin. He was all you could see.

His death was something you would never forgive yourself for. Had you been where you were supposed to be, it never would have happened. Instead, you were distracted and acting on impulse. By the time you’d finally gotten to his side, it was far too late. In the last few moments you had with him, he never blamed you, not once, but you knew. You knew that you could have changed that outcome.

The memory of the way he had clung to you and wept was haunting.

You took a shaky step forward, your bottom lip quivering. You would have embraced him, but he beat you to it. His arms were wrapped so tightly around your shoulders, and you had to stand on your tiptoes as you were raised above the ground.

He choked on a sob of his own. “I knew you couldn’t really be dead. Good riddance!” Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, dragging you down with him, and began rubbing his face against the top of your head.

“Jin…” you whispered.

“You really got us good. I totally fell for it! Worst prank ever!”

Another pair of arms grappled you from behind and their tear-soaked face pressed against the back of your neck.

“I couldn’t believe it at first…” you recognized the voice as Toga’s, “but you’re really here!”

“I don’t—What are you talking about?” you stuttered. Your body trembled under the weight of your friends, and your mind was reeling as you tried to comprehend what they were saying. “Why would you say that? Why would you think I died?”

“Because we buried you ourselves. That’s why.” You looked up to see Iguchi walking towards you, his face a blank slate you couldn’t read. “So that begs the question, how did you dig yourself out of your own grave?”

“Iguchi—”

“You’ve never called me by my real name,” he cut in, raising his chin to look down his nose at you. “Who are you?”

Your confusion vanished, and all you could see was red. Your body grew impossibly tense, fists balled so tightly your nails would leave crescents on your palms.

“That’s such bullshit,” you spat as you pulled away from the arms of your friends to stand up abruptly. Your glare was booring through his thick skin. “What else would I have called you? Spinner? We’ve never used our hero names outside of work.”

He drew his head back as a scowl etched across his face.

Maybe he was like Shigaraki, and he created a new name for himself. Like Touya, too, now that you thought about it.

“Let’s not get too heated,” Atsuhiro spoke up with his hands raised as if to break apart a fight. “The circumstances may be out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean we should be jumping down each other’s throats.”

“You don’t even look the same,” Spinner added, ignoring Atsuhiro’s attempt at abating the growing conflict. “There’s no way you could pass as a teenager.”

“Okay, well, that’s just rude,” you bit back after taking a solid blow to your self-esteem.

“Can we go back for a second?”

You and Spinner both looked over to Shigaraki, mildly surprised after he seemed to have taken a backseat in this reunion of sorts. He pushed off the door frame where you entered the room and stalked towards you.

“To the part about using hero names,” he continued, stopping just a few feet away. “See, what you explained to me earlier gave me the impression that you felt the heroes’ actions were akin to a villain’s. What you’re implying now sounds a lot more like—”

“We’re heroes,” you cut in. The fire that had ignited inside you—the hope that everything wasn’t as warped as you initially perceived—was dwindling. “You’re all supposed to be heroes.”

Your eyes became softer, not out of sadness but of exhaustion. You were tired of all the mental hoops you were throwing yourself through trying to piece this new reality together. You certainly didn’t have the energy to force these people to believe in you.

Your spirit was crawling in on itself, and you wanted so badly to turn your back on everything that distressed you. It wouldn’t be impossible to walk away from your current engagement, but you’d still be forced to come to terms with the rest of this messed up society. You were surrounded by stressors with no place to hide.

“What on Earth would make you think that?” Shigaraki glowered at you.

“You mean, like, heroes to each other?” Toga chipped. She wrapped her body around you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “’Cause you’re totally my hero! You saved Jin and me from those nasty gangsters!”

“The Hassaikai?” you asked. You were pretty sure that’s what she was referring to. You remembered when the three of you had to face Mimic and the pillars he tried to crush you with. They would have killed both Jin and Toga had you not frozen them in time. “That did happen.”

“Of course it did. That’s the whole reason we thought you died!” Jin said as he threw his arms out for emphasis.

You shook your head. “No. I would have died if you two hadn’t saved me.”

“Ah, yes, just as I remember! That’s not how it went.” Jin waved his arms in denial. “We tried, but you were too far away.”

“I was far, yeah, but you guys were able to get me out of the way in time,” you corrected, “I was hospitalized because of the injuries, but I didn’t die.”

Jin didn’t respond. His hands fell to his sides and his shoulders dropped. You could feel Toga’s embrace tense before she slipped away from you. You glanced back at her, but her eyes were covered by her bangs.

“Look, I’m not the same person you know,” you sighed and walked back a few steps so you could face everyone, “But I remember dealing with Overhaul and his people. It was years ago, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same as what you’re talking about. I was in a coma for weeks following that fight, so it only makes sense that I—she would be in a hospital somewhere…”

Your voice fizzled away as you reflected on what Spinner had said earlier. They never lost your body. You weren’t considered missing to them. If they really did burry you, then there would be no doubt about your condition.

And if they hadn’t found your body, they wouldn’t be so quick to claim you were dead. Granted, you were assuming they had similar mindsets to the people you remembered them to be.

“I can’t be dead, that doesn’t make sense,” you murmured, shaking your head and backing away further.

You had thought that everyone’s roles within society were the only things different about this new timeline. Magne died here around the same time she did when you had lived through it. From what you read, the ambush on the Shie Hassaikai was conducted almost exactly the same as you remembered. Everything else was the same. Everyone was alive at the time they should be, but you were the outlier.

What happened differently here that resulted in your death rather than measly mutilation?

“The fact you’re standing here is what's really perplexing,” Shigaraki remarked, looking you up and down before his eyes settled on yours.

“I think…I’m pretty sure I was teleported,” you said with a new firmness in your voice. Subconsciously, you were pretty sure you had come to that conclusion a while ago. However, the lack of evidence that Dai Uchuu could teleport people and things across timelines made you hesitant to fully accept it.

You expected him to write off your theory as nonsense, possibly even laugh at your outlandish proposal. But Shigaraki’s gaze on you didn’t waver, didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, it seemed as though he could see right “By a quirk?” he asked. His arms unfolded, and he raised a hand to his neck, the tips of his fingers grazing along the scarred skin.

You nodded. “I had a run in with a villain whose quirk allows him to teleport objects. We never considered it could be anything more than that, but, before that point, everything was still normal.”

“Quirks have become more complex with each generation,” he remarked, looking off to the side. “It’s unlikely for such an overpowered one like that to exist, but it’s not impossible.”

He looked back at you with eyes that were no longer harsh. Your chest became light as all the stress that had accumulated over the past day withered away. You needed to sit, but before you could even consider finding somewhere to relax, there was a tug on your arm.

Toga was staring at you with wide eyes and a grin that felt all too familiar. “So, like, does that mean you’re from the future or something?”

Your eyebrows scrunched, and a corner of your lips tugged upwards. Of course that would be what caught her attention.

“I guess so. I’ve probably gone back almost three years,” you hummed.

“Ooh! Ooh! What happens between now and then?” she beamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Do we win?”

Your stomach churned.

The question itself was simple and could easily be answered by a civilian or governmental figure. You defeated the villains and locked them away. Society was safe for the time being, and everyone could go on with their lives as usual.

Obviously, there were some exceptions.

“If she is from the future, telling you what happens could mess everything up,” Spinner pointed out, putting a hand on his hip. “In every movie and game where they deal with time travel, they always talk about the consequences of changing the past.”

“I’m just asking what happens. I never said I’d change anything,” Toga retorted before blowing a raspberry in his direction. “Besides, if we’re heroes where she’s from, I think things are already messed up.”

The two began to bicker over the topic. Eventually, Atsuhiro joined in, bringing up the issue of paradoxes, which favored Spinner’s side of the argument. Jin seemed to do his best to follow along, taking on a supporting role for everyone involved in the conversation.

Touya had kept silent for almost the entirety of your little reunion, but you glanced over in time to see him kick off the wall he had been leaning against. He walked towards you with a lopsided grin.

“You’ve grown up nicely,” he ribbed.

Your upper lip curled at his implication. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

He cackled. “What, do I start going grey?”

“I’d be a little more concerned with skincare if I were you,” you snipped, crossing your arms and turning your torso away from him.

Shigaraki was mostly keeping to himself on the sidelines. He looked like he was listening in on the argument between Toga and Spinner, but his eyes squinted after your retort, giving away his mild amusement. Touya followed your gaze and scoffed.

“You say that as if I’m the only one with skin issues,” he said with a raised voice, still facing Shigaraki.

At that, Shigaraki’s eyes shot over to Touya and narrowed.

“Do you have a preference for what I call you?” you inquired with a raised brow. You were heckled by two people about names at this point, so you might as well make it customary to check before offending anyone else.

“Dabi,” he stated in a flat tone. His teasing demeanor dropped completely. “If you call me anything else, you’ll be joining the fucked up skin club.”

Your lips pursed. “Noted.”

“What’s your plan until you go back to wherever you came from?” he asked, crossing his arms and turning away to face the intensifying commotion the others were causing.

That was something you still needed to work out. You couldn’t stay here forever, nor did you want to. Seeing friends of old was wonderful and all, but you still had a life you needed to get back to. You had a job to do and bills to pay. You weren’t sure if time was actively passing back home, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

Finding Dai Uchuu shouldn’t be too difficult with the right amount of research and public records. It would be tedious work, but you didn’t have many other options. Roaming city streets with your fingers crossed that you’d run into him would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He could have even fled to another country for all you knew.

“I stayed at a hotel last night. I’ll probably keep the room until I find the guy that sent me here. I was out to buy clothes and toiletries before—”

“You’re staying with us,” Shigaraki stated, walking up to the two of you.

Dabi cackled. “You’re really not wasting any time now that she’s your age.”

Shigaraki stood taller and raised his chin before turning to face you, opting to cut his comrade out of the conversation. “You said it yourself. We don’t actually know you, and it would be stupid to let you go off on your own. You’re a hero, which means you put the public’s best interest before all else.”

“I’m not so sure the public’s interest aligns with me here. Still, I understand where you’re coming from,” you conceded.

“Dabi, tell the others we’re done. You, come,” he demanded. He didn’t wait for a response and walked out of the room.

You found yourself, once again, trailing behind him. He led you back through the corridor and down a staircase to the basement level of the sketchy old building. You looked around at the various pipes that protruded through the cracked concrete walls. Some of them dripped, creating murky puddles that you had to dodge or hop over.

You got a bad feeling you were going to end up in a cell of sorts.

He did say he didn’t want you wandering freely…

The two of you stopped in front of a rotting wooden door that likely led to a closet or electrical room. However, he opened it to reveal a much larger space that appeared finished with painted drywall and linoleum flooring. There were no pipes to be seen aside from beneath a faucet that helped make up a kitchenette.

The room was clearly lived in from the wrappers, takeout containers, and stray articles of clothing that littered the ground around a beaten-up pair of old sofas. The cabinet door beneath the sink was missing, and some of the others looked as though one good tug could take them off their hinges. The countertops were also overdue for a good wipe down.

“Have you all been living here?” you asked, doing your best to hide your displeasure.

The closest you’d gotten to living with roommates was when UA forced all its students into dorms. Even then, you were all expected to clean up after yourselves and upkeep the place.

It at least looked like everyone got their own rooms judging by the hallway that branched off of the common area. You didn’t count, but there seemed to be enough doors for everybody. A few of them were open, allowing you to see a bedroom that was fairly put together. Right next to it was a room that looked as though a bomb went off inside.

“You’ll share a room with one of us until you figure out how to fix your whole…situation.” Shigaraki went over to one of the couches to pull a balled-up blanket from between the cushions and threw at you without warning. You only partially caught it, most ended up draped over your head.

After a moment of befuddlement, you slipped the blanket off to see him standing in front of you. Your heart pounded as you watched his eyes roam over your face before looking down at your chest. You could feel an embarrassed blush begin to bubble in your cheeks.

He reached forward and pulled at the shoulder of your shirt. “I still don’t get why you’d wear something like this.”

You scoffed, swatting his hand away. “I thought we already went over this. My options were limited.”

“And that was really the best thing you could find?” he rolled his eyes.

“You know I was actively trying to buy something else to wear instead when you jumped me,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

“Toga has too many clothes. Go put something of hers on,” he demanded before turning away from you to plop himself on one of the couches. The creaking of the wood and springs under his weight made you cringe. It was only a matter of time before that old thing gave out.

“Or I can go back to my hotel to get my stuff, and I can buy a thing or two while I’m out,” you bargained as you paced over to him and leaned against the arm of the sofa.

“I told you, you’re not leaving.”

“Just go with me if you’re really that concerned,” you proposed, tilting your head with and equally crooked grin. “You owe me a shopping trip.”

Shigaraki had been trying to appear busy by fiddling with a TV remote, but his eyes flew back to you. He just stared until you raised your eyebrows expectantly. His attention went back to the remote. “We can figure something out later.”

♡ ♡ ♡

➨ Chapter Four

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff

32 notes · View notes

c-u-c-koo-4-40k · 4 months ago

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Can We Have a First Date Now?

Warnings: Gender Neutral Reader but female genitalia is used.

Smut specifically fellatio.

PTSD.

Feelings of inadequacy

Problems with communication (they're trying but they're both inexperienced in romance)

Fear of losing love.

Fear of doing things wrong.

Consenting to sex while not in the best headspace because they fear dissapointing Khopesh.

Khopesh thinking they fully eagerly consented with no mental baggage

Next Chapter Is Out. Find it Here!

Previous Chapter Here:

And if you want to read this story with full context the prequel, and the link to the first chapter is here:

There be angst here lads, with the return of Night Terrors and a bad night's sleep, Lullaby attends to their morning chores while having deep conflicting thoughts about their situationship with Khopesh.

Tag List: @bispecsual-archived @bispecsual @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @barn-anon @sleepyfan-blog

Meanwhile, as Khopesh was enjoying his huge heaping pile of delicious breakfast, you waddled around your barn wincing in pain and wishing you'd remembered to take some painkillers before bed.

Lord above, your muscles felt like they'd been put through a barrage of rolling pins, and you felt like you could just lay down on the concrete floor and Sleep.

But, the meds you'd taken were at least trying to take the edge off. And hopefully soon you'd be able to finish the last few task and collapse back in bed.

Focus, focus, focus either on the pain or the last bits of feeding and Not how this was the first time in the last twelve hours you've been without the major element that brought a whirlwind of chaos into your life all in the matter of a single Night!!

...Breath in,

...Breath Out...

Okay, back to w- (!)

Your left oblique proceeded to twinge and lock up for a moment leaving you hissing in pain.

"Why can't Tylenol work any faster?" You groaned, waiting for the spasm to pass.

As it did, you bleakly thought that if he was going to fuck you inside out, He could At Least offer his help to his...

Bonded?

No, he was bonded to Gary and Nancy. Quite adorably you might add. You always got a kick seeing his huge dangerous space soldier self happily refer to your neighbors as Vada and Muti.

Fuck Buddy? Friend with benefits?

Well...the way he'd been talking seemed too...serious for a label like that. All that growling and biting and...claiming.

You shivered as a dusting of heat oozed over your skin at the memories. You shook yourself out of it.

Lover?

Were you lovers? Everything had happened so Fast! One moment you were bantering and trying to make him flustered, next you'd goaded eachother into a literal roll in the hay, and then you'd invited him over for a shower and a sleepover!?

(And he literally saw you break down crying from a night terror about- No no. Bad memories. Not adding those to the spiral.)

Still Lover was a very Strong word. As was Partner, Other Half...

Your mind suddenly brought two other titles to mind.

His Pet, or perhaps...his toy...

You felt a shiver of a different kind come over you, one of revulsion.

You...Really didn't like that.

Maybe it was best to leave the exact...verbiage of your interactions unnamed for now.

You could both figure things out as they come (if they come).

Take things one day at a time. (How many days do you have?)

He clearly likes you (for now), and you like him, so you can go from there.

He wouldn't...he wouldn't have comforted you if he didn't care. (You know he can Stop caring.)

Are you sure your heart could take that...again?

"Enough!" You shouted.

To an empty barn...(aside from the horses.) Your voice caused the sleeping cats to perk up.

You felt embarassed and God you just wanted to go back to bed. But there was work to be done.

"Hup!" You heaved two fifty pound feed bags into your arms. "Hoof!" And plopped them into place with their ends hanging over your barn's nearly empty feed barrel. You'd need to refill it for the next feeder.

A quick swipe with your pocket knife would have their guts spilling out...or it Should anyway...maybe you needed your knife sharpened?

"You need to hold that at a better angle."

"SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY!" You felt yourself jump, and swivel back around.

Only to see a very familiar looking Nightlord behind you. Instead of armor he was in comfortable lounging clothes and his expression was morphing from surprise to Delight.

You let out a heavy, Heavy sigh, and let your rigid posture return to normal. saw Khopesh's shoulders shaking with barely restrained giggles.

Well at least some things have stayed the same.

"Yeah yeah, you got me, laugh it up." You abided, exasperated but not really that upset.

This seemed to break the damn and Khopesh let out one of his long loud cackles.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa Ha- Hai I wasn't- " He struggled to speak through his laughter. "Even Trying to scare you that time! And you still jumped like startled P-Pigeon! Pftthahahhahahhahah!" He doubled over bringing his face down to your height.

Okay that part was a Little funny, but you weren't gonna fold completely to his nonsense. What fun would that be?

You let a playful gruffness come into your voice. "Now you listen her you shadow skulkin miscreant!" You brought up your pocket knife for emphasis, knowing full well he was in Minimal danger from such a small blade. You continued. "I hear one more sound outta you boy and I'm taking your tongue!"

"Ooh Ho Ho?" Khopesh responded, waggling his eyebrows. "Well now Lullaby if you want it you need only Ask~"

He allowed his long tongue to fall out of his mouth in a manner that was both humerous but also salacious. The tip just barely touching that of your blade.

Your focus broke, and you found your mind going back to how it had felt on your body. Creeping heat once again took over your skin.

Khopesh's inky eyes suddenly changed, and his expression shifted.

He'd noticed your change, and he got an idea. His smile became more...amorous...michevious.

Uh-oh

"In fact," He cooed, swiping you up into a bridal carry, holding you close to his chest. He brought his head and face down, nuzzling your flustered cheek and letting his tongue drag languidly across it. "I fancy a taste of something I missed last night."

"Or should I say...something I tasted indirectly, last night~"

You swore you felt your cheeks burn hot enough to vaporize the saliva he'd Just left on your face.

But it was only partly from desire, the other was panic.

Wait it's happening again!? Oh God we can't do this here! In the middle of the barn?? Mom might see us, or worse! A client. Do I even want to do this. (Yes, Yes, YES taste me, love me, don't leave m-) But I'm still so confused.

Khopesh took note of your sudden pulse change. The arousal was still there, but also stress hormones and the rhythm was sounding a Bit too much like your panic attack for comfort.

Did...did you not Want to copulate with him again? Did he do something wrong? As far as he could tell this was very similar to your first encounter?

"...Lullaby?"

"Not here!" You blurted out suddenly. Surprising both Khopesh and yourself.

Despite his confusion, Khopesh offered a different option. "Would...you like to copulate back in the hay stall then?"

Wait you didn't have a hay sta- Oooooh. The realization dawned on you.

He was offering to bed you in the same place he had before. And honestly your panic Was tempered by the ludicrous thought of him bridal carrying you all the way across a field and two fences so you could bang in the same place you had before.

Very considerate...in a weird way. You actually laughed a bit. "No no no, I mean not Here specifically," You gestured to the floor of the barn where you were still held in his arms. "I mean we need somewhere more Private. You know...no windows or huge doors?"

Oh...oh that made sense. Khopesh felt himself relax. His Lullaby was not rejecting his courtship outright. Had they done that he'd fear he'd offended them in some way.

"Very well, what place do you feel suits those parameters?"

Ah...good question. You pondered for a moment.

"I think the Bathroom's our best bet." It was also just big enough for a single Astarte and you'd still have more room than your shower.

You felt the heat and embarassment return at the idea....but you also felt... excited! Similar to how you had yesterday. (How long will it last? How long will you be able to keep him excited?)

You pushed any trepidation from you mind. (You tried.) And focused on Khopesh's returning excitement as he carried you.

...

"Mmm! Ah Ah AH!"

"Mmmmm~"

Long, sinuous and muscular, Khopesh's tongue was eagerly exploring your damp puffy skin that was still tender from yesterday's escapades.

Between long languid moans, and brief breathy puffs, you marveled at how wonderous it felt to have that slick wriggling organ inside you.

Even if it couldn't reach as deeply as Khopesh's cock it still sent tremors of delights pulsating from your core, spidering out over your hips and wracking your entire body that was sitting spread open and bent slightly on the bathroom sink.

Khopesh smothered his face into your heat, seemingly trying to reach your deepest depths and lap up everything you had to give. His nose brushed into your clit further enhancing your pleasure.

"K- Khopesh! Khopesh!" Your voice pitched as your hands tangled in his long dark hair. You swore you felt him smile against your flesh, specifically feeling the scar on his lip move.

Yes Lullaby~ Khopesh cooed greedily in his mind. Give me Everything! Every last scream, every last moan, every last drop to show that you are Mine!

His hands gripped tight to the meat of your hips, pulling you as close as he could without causing injury. He doubled his efforts, moaning himself and pushing, swiping, devouring.

You felt your peak approaching, your already sore muscles locked up and trembling as you flexed closer to your partner. Bringing your hips even harder against him as he pushed deeper in turn.

He finally retracted his tongue, but only for a moment, as he brought his strong lips around your tight bud and sucked.

It was almost too much.

But it was Perfect all the same.

He tormented your sweet little button as you convulsed, soothing you and overstimmulating you all at once, delighting in your tremors and whimpers.

Despite not finding his own end, he felt satisfied, seeing his darling Lullaby so wrecked by only his tongue made him swell with pride.

And as you twitched and sweat and finally felt your pulse slowing, he felt a wave of tenderness and affection come over him.

"Your taste was exquisite," He whispers bringing his hand to the side of your face as he nuzzled you. "I must leave soon, but Thank you for the wonderful meal, my Lullaby~"

That...that was so corny...but also really sweet... You nuzzled back, you enjoyed that immensely.

(What good is your enjoyment if he doesn't Love you? You have to clean this whole space now because you were a Freak! He didn't even get his turn, are you stupid-)

"Lullaby?"

You were broken from your sudden rush of post bliss clarity by Khopesh, again, looking concerned.

"You seemed distracted Lullaby...are you well?" He placed one of his large hand on your forehead...that wouldn't really help right now with how warm you still were.

"I um..." You managed to stammer a response. "I just...I wish I had the time...and the energy to help you too. You know..." You gestured vaguely, hoping he'd get the idea.

He seemed st least partially satisfied by your answer. "I am more than satisfied with this Lullaby...besides," His smile once again became smug and amorous. "You could simply return the favor later."

You didn't think you body could handle another round, even If you were given the rest of the day off. But if you refused would he be disappointed? Well he's not disappointed now but-

"How about an actual meal? On me?" The words came out before you fully grasped what you were offering.

Khopesh took a moment to process your words. "You mean...we would eat...together?"

You swallowed your anxiety. (Ha, you tried.) "It's just I don't think my body will be up for another round for a while," And your mental state probably wasn't either. "and I thought it could be nice to...share a meal together?"

You held your breath, half guessing rejection would follow.

But instead a smile spread on the Nightlord's face. "It is an excellent idea!" Khopesh clapped his hands together in delight.

You felt at least some of the weight come off your shoulders. "Great! How does Lunch sound? I need a nap but after that...we could head into town, see what looks good?"

"An excellent plan! I will vox your cellular device so you may contact me when you are ready."

Well that was convenient. "Awesome! But...how do you already know my number?"

Khopesh simply smiled, before quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I look forward to sharing a meal with you, my Lullaby, enjoy your rest."

He pressed one more brief kiss to your lips, and with that he exited the bathroom.

Leaving you sitting on the sink, partially dressed and returning to normal like a zombie, while you played those kisses over in your mind.

You felt a profound mix of both warmth, and cold, as you traced your fingers over your lips.

You wanted so badly to believe the warmth would stay.

Well...there was still work to do, and no use just sitting here. You shifted off the sink.

You oblique locked up again as you moved too suddenly.

"FUCKING OUCH DAMMIT!"

#c u ckoo anon #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #oc: khopesh #tw smut #tw oral

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mekachu04 · 22 days ago

Text

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

#kikitober2024 #massacre soldier killer #eustass captain kidd #my work #fanfic #one piece #a03 #fanart #kidkiller #KiKi #Killer has misunderstood the Candlemas March #long and short of it - in scotland #mothers of children born the previous year #march with candles to be purified by the Virgin Mary #Killer is a nerd of patterns - especially in numbers #キドキラ

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anamoon63 · 10 months ago

Note

Your TS3 gameplay really does inspire me to give that game another shot. Are there specific mods you use to make sure the game runs smoothly/is stable? What mods/cc are the best to use so the sims look good?

Hi, Marci! 😊

First of all, thank you very much for your ask. Knowing that my sims and/or my gameplay can inspire other simmers to play means a lot to me cause The Sims 3 is my favorite game in the whole Sims series. Plus, I love my sims, so this makes me twice as happy. 🤗💖

That said, it is my duty to warn you that The Sims 3 is not an easy game to maintain, it requires a lot of care and patience, even from the moment of its installation. You ask me what it takes to make it run smoothly and make it stable, well I'm no expert, but what helped me with that is all contained in this Steam post. I believe these tips you can follow even if you don't have your game on Steam. I followed all these steps when I reinstalled my game back in 2017-18, and I have never had a problem like lag or crashes since then.

It's thanks to the amazing person who wrote that post and to talented modders like @lazyduchess and Twallan (Nraas Mods), whose mods I consider indispensable, that I have been able to play The Sims 3 without problems for years now. I may have had a couple of crashes due to some wrong or corrupt cc, but that's on me because I download a lot of stuff. In those cases, it's a matter of locating the bad cc, taking it out, and that's it. The game runs great, even with a ton of mods installed. (I have a 9 GB mods folder, and I've had more than that at times, lol, but I try to keep in less than 10 GB always).

As for what mods and cc's to use to make the sims look good, well, that would depend on your taste, or as they say now, on the aesthetics of your game or your sims.

For what it's worth, I have always used Ephemera's E-WEAK skin as default. I also use some other Ephemera's like E-Skin Natural MIX, Asia and Fresh. I use some by Kurasoberina too.

I think Ephemera's site doesn't exist anymore, but the E-WEAK skins I use can be downloaded on MTS here. Kurasoberina TS3 skins you can find them here along with more of their fabulous content.

I'm sure there are other skins much newer, and super nice too, but these are the ones I use, cause they give my sims the look they are known for. 😊

Also I use Tifa N38 default eyes, as well as Buhudain's You Are Real body and face maps replacements to give some realism to my sims' skins/bodies. Neither Tifa's nor Buhudain's sites exist anymore, unfortunately, but you can still find Buhudain's archives on this SFS page. And those of Tifa in this other one in Mega. (I hope I am not doing wrong by sharing them, otherwise I will remove them).

There's also this stunning version of Buhudain's You are Real by @nectar-cellar named You are Hyperreal. :)

As for the rest, if I start listing all the other content I use such as hair, clothes and makeup I would never finish, I'd gladly share my whole mods folder, but I don't want to piss off the creators, or blow-up other players' computers, lol. I'm WCIF friendly, though, so feel free to ask for any specific content, of any type, CAS or Buy/Build, I got my custom content well documented, so I'll provide you with links to any of them.

For the time being, here is this link to my custom Content List on my Blogger. I have kept this list for many years, and I still use most of that content; it may be a little outdated of course, cause I have a lot of new stuff now, so my intention is to update the page soon when/if I have the time. Also, some of the links may not work anymore, if so just let me know and I'll fix them for you if I'm able.

I hope this answer has helped you. Sorry for taking so long to reply, but I wanted to make this post as detailed as possible. If you have any other questions about The Sims 3, I'll be here whenever you need me. Good luck and happy simming! 😉💗

#the sims 3 #ask me anything #sims 3 simblr #simblr ask #the sims 3 cc #ts3 cc

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pastanest · 2 years ago

Text

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Courting Aragorn Would Include

- well we’ve all seen, and some of us have read, what it’s like to be in a romantic relationship with Aragorn, so we’re all pretty familiar with the territory

- however I would just like to take this opportunity to personally apologise to Arwen for this blasphemy ok we all stan u bb

- you’ll have to prepare yourself for some brooding angst if Aragorn is the one you plan to give your heart to

- it’ll also take a while to break down those angsty walls of his, he’s a difficult egg to crack

- but once you do get past his harsh and quiet exterior, he will love you more than anything in existence

- you wont have been prepared for a love this strong, and it will be incredibly intense, so strap yourself in

- as a lowkey royal figure, he’s more naturally accustomed to the art of courting, rather than casual dating that is consistent among the species of men

- courting in itself will include bouquets of flowers, which he has picked himself, being delivered to your front door with handwritten love letters from him

- Aragorn will be as patient as you need him to be, and because he’s already smitten, going at your pace wont bother him at all

- given the amount of time he has spent travelling, he’s bound to know some incredible romantic spots for picnics, campfires, stargazing, skinny dipping; anything you can possibly think of

- he wont treat you like a queen, because let’s not forget he isnt a big fan of royal positions to begin with, but he will look at you everyday like you are an angel at his side, and he will thank his lucky stars that you chose him to bare the weight of your heart

- and this doesnt change even when the process of courting is complete

- once you’re officially bound to him, his intense love for you will be visible to anyone that sees him

- Aragorn isnt big on aggressive PDA, he’s a very gentle man, but he does adore playing with your hair and holding your hands

- forehead kisses are a given

- linking back to his brooding, he’s quite stressed a lot of the time, and you will often give him shoulder and back massages to ease his physical tension

- over time, he loses the embarrassment brought on by asking for a massage, and will ask without hesitation, because he falls in love with your touch

- if anyone tries to sway your heart away from his, Aragorn will not hesitate to destroy them first with words, and then - if their poor attempts at persuasion continue - with a blade

- your heart could never be swayed from his, of course, but the mere act of someone trying to achieve such a thing is enough reason for him to be royally upset

- as already mentioned, Aragorn is very intense, and this comes across through his physical affection in moments shared between just the two of you

- when you’re enveloped by his arms, with your head on his chest and his heart beating in harmony with yours, words are no longer necessary

- and when he stares into your eyes, you catch a glimpse of the seas of turmoil, which now have rays of light beaming down on them, the light of your love for him

- he can never find words strong enough to describe his love for you, he chooses instead to express himself through his actions

- lying in bed on your sides, facing each other, your legs intertwined, his fingers caressing the side of your face as his eyes stare into yours, and your souls embracing each other

- when Aragorn loves, he loves more than any other creature possibly could, and if you are lucky enough to find yourself loved by such a man, dont let yourself forget, not even for a moment, that you are the luckiest person in Middle-earth

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

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sydneejean · 5 months ago

Text

Finding You - 1

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

FEMALE READER!

Link for AO3:

Hey guys! It’s been a while, but I decided to take up writing again! I’ve been working on this piece for a little while, so let me know how you like it! I’m hoping to add more chapters, so feel free to give me thoughts and ideas! Love yall <3 - Syd

—————————————————————————

"Bradshaw, is that you?!"

You whip your head around to face the door, and there he is. The man you haven’t spoken to in 18 years. The man you never thought you would lay your eyes on again. The man you have loved wholeheartedly since you were 13.

Bradley Nicolas Peter Bradshaw.

Your soulmate.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Everybody gets a name etched into their skin when they turn 14—a soulmate. If your soulmate is younger, you have to wait until they turn 14 for the name to appear. Usually, it takes years for a person to find their soulmate, but in your case, yours was sitting right next to you. At least, one of yours. You rarely hear about cases where a person has more than one soulmate. But of course, you’ve got to be the special one.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Bradley have known each other since childhood, your fathers knowing each other since flight school until Goose’s untimely demise, and Bradley’s “uncle” being your fathers soulmate. From a young age, there was always a special connection between you two, a bond that went beyond friendship. You shared countless adventures together, from building forts in the backyard to exploring local parks.

As you entered your teenage years, your feelings for Bradley began to evolve. You found yourself drawn to his easygoing nature, his sense of humor, and his unwavering loyalty. Bradley, in turn, always looked out for you, whether it was defending you from bullies or being your partner in mischief.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

September 12, 1999.

Your best friend and you are spending your birthday together. As you try to suppress the anticipation of discovering your soulmate’s name, you can’t help but remember that Bradley didn’t get his on his 16th birthday eight months ago. You're chatting and having a great time when your right hip starts itching like crazy. You scratch it, thinking it will go away, but it doesn’t. Meanwhile, Bradley begins scratching the left side of his chest with a fervor that matches your own discomfort. In a sudden, shared realization, you understand what’s happening: the names of your soulmates are appearing.

Wide-eyed and barely able to contain your excitement, you part ways—you head to the bathroom to inspect your hip, and him to your closet to examine his chest. Your hands grip the edge of the bathroom counter as nerves settle in. What if the name is unattractive? You dread the thought of an ugly name being permanently etched into your skin. With a deep breath, you decide it’s now or never. You lower the waistband of your shorts and peer into the mirror. And there they are: the names. Your initial shock is due to seeing not just one but two names. Then, surprise mingles with excitement as you read the first name:

Bradley Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

And then you read the second:

Jacob Alexander Seresin

You stand there, frozen, trying to process the revelation. A knock on the door jolts you back to reality. Opening it, you find Bradley standing there wide-eyed. His name is now permanently marked on your skin, and he:

1. Has his name now etched into your skin.

2. Isn’t wearing a shirt anymore.

3. Has your name, in pretty cursive handwriting, along with “Jacob Alexander Seresin” etched into his chest.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist, and a warm sensation envelops you as your bodies press together. Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in your hug, savoring the moment.

A throat clearing from the doorway breaks your reverie. You turn to see your father, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, standing alongside his soulmate and Bradley’s father figure, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. Both of them look unimpressed by Bradley’s shirtless state and your intimate embrace. Sheepishly, you disentangle yourselves, and you quickly rush into your father’s arms, seeking comfort and reassurance.

"Care to explain?" your father asks, his voice a mix of sternness and curiosity.

"We just... found out," you stammer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Mav steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on Bradley's shoulder. "It's a big moment, Tom. Let’s give them a bit of space."

Your father’s expression softens slightly as he exchanges a glance with Mav. "Alright, but you two need to understand the gravity of this. Soulmates are a lifelong commitment."

Bradley and you nod in unison, the weight of his words sinking in. Your father gives you one last hug before he and Pete leave the room, closing the door behind them.

Bradley turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of joy and uncertainty. "I guess we have a lot to talk about."

You smile, taking his hand in yours. "Yes, we do. But for now, let’s just be happy that we found each other again."

You sit down on the edge of your bed, your hands still intertwined, and begin to talk about the future—yours and the one that includes Jacob Alexander Seresin.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bradley sat beside his mother’s hospital bed, the room filled with the soft hum of medical equipment. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words and emotions, but he held her frail hand, his eyes brimming with both love and sadness.

“Mom, I… I have something important to tell you,” he began softly.

His mother, her smile weak but genuine, looked at him with curious eyes. “What is it, darling?”

Bradley hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I found my soulmate. Well, one of them. It’s… it’s not just one person.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and despite her fatigue, there was a spark of curiosity. “Two soulmates? Bradley, that’s… that’s very rare. Tell me more.”

Nodding, he continued, “Yes, it is. The first name that appeared is someone you know—someone we’ve both known for a long time. It’s her.”

A gentle smile spread across her face. “I always had a feeling about the two of you. And the second name?”

Bradley took another deep breath, steadying himself. “The second name is Jacob Alexander Seresin. I haven’t met him yet, but I feel like there’s a connection already. It’s strange, but I just know he’s important.”

She squeezed his hand lightly, her touch a comforting reminder of her presence. “Trust that feeling, Bradley. The universe has a way of bringing the right people into our lives at the right time.”

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke again. “I wish you could be there to meet them both. To see how our lives unfold together.”

“I may not be there physically,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears, “but I’ll always be with you in spirit. I want you to embrace this journey with all your heart. Love them fiercely, Bradley. They are your soulmates for a reason.”

Tears streamed down Bradley’s face as he nodded. “I promise, Mom. I’ll cherish them, just like you and Dad cherished each other.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember, love is the greatest gift you can give and receive. Don’t be afraid to open your heart completely.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll make you proud, Mom.”

“You already have, my dear. You already have,” she whispered, her smile never fading.

Bradley leaned down to kiss his mother’s forehead, feeling the warmth of her love envelop him. Despite the impending loss, a sense of peace settled over him, knowing that his mother believed in him and his journey ahead. As he sat back down, still holding her hand, he promised himself that he would honor her wisdom and cherish the love he had been given.

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun #hangman x reader #icemav #top gun hangman #top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction #rooster x hangman x reader #soulmates

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silver-heller · 8 months ago

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On Navigating AO3

I've gotten what feels like the millionth comment about two issues, in particular, from people who are just starting to read on Ao3 but don't actually know how to navigate the site.

So, and know I am saying this with affection...

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, READ FIC INFORMATION! AND GO TO AUTHOR PAGES, I AM BEGGING YOU!

To start off, this box is the first thing on the page when you open a fic, and it feels like so many new users just skip over it despite its importance:

This lets you know the fic's age rating, archive warnings, the types of relationships within the fic, the fandom, the relationships, the characters, additional tags, language, if it's a part of a series or not, and the stats. You are doing fics a disservice by reading them without this information.

PS: & is for platonic and / is for romantic.

However, Ao3 sometimes misrepresents what part of a series a fic is in, so I am begging people to please just click into a series if they feel they are missing some context.

Ao3 is littered with spaces for information, so don't think we're finished just yet. Below the title is the summary (fic description) and note area which will include the beginning notes or will let you know if there are notes at the bottom of the fic (both written by the author), all of which can give extra context:

Also, at the bottom of a fic that is a part of a series, there are two links, one to the previous fic and another to the series. The part number is also more accurate. Please use them:

It drives me up the wall how "previous work" is right there, and so many people don't click on it but go to comment about how confused they are anyway.

I know no one means any harm but, as a fic writer, it is exhausting to have to deal with people complaining my fics "make no sense" when they put no effort into understanding the actual context, or sometimes anything about the fic.

Another thing that is exhausting? Getting comments that are the equivalent of "I really hope you write more for this fandom! I love how you write the characters, I wish I could read more of it from you," when I have multiple other fics for that fandom. So, let's look back at that fic title, shall we? Right below it is the author name, and it's a link:

If you want to see more works by that author, you can click on their author name (in this case, All_Nightmares_Start_As_Dreams) to look through their profile. One of the first things you will encounter is their fandom list and, by clicking on fandoms, you can see their other works for that fandom. On the list, it will also put how many fics they have for that fandom next to its name:

Yes, I do get this comment about Lackadaisy fics despite having written 147 of them lol.

Now, you might not be able to see someone's full catalogue of fics because they have some fics locked, meaning only registered users can view them. Personally? I have some of my fics locked for this reason. Guest commenters tend to not only not understand how to use the site, but ignore the information laid out in front of them. I have some series I am very dedicated to writing and, quite frankly, I do not have the energy to constantly explain to guest commenters the set of series I've raveled myself in lol. Please prove me wrong, start using your tools!

But also...please just register for an account. You can still keep using Ao3 as a guest while you wait to get your email with the invite, but at least, eventually, you will have an account. This will help you start using Ao3 more and understanding how it all works so you can more properly follow your favorite writers and save your favorite fics. You can even start posting for yourself, yay! It's free, and you'll get access to more fics, you have nothing to lose.

#ao3 #ao3 advice #archive of our own #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 stuff

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rearranged-fanfic · 11 months ago

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Chapter-By-Chapter Part 1; The Prologue - Unfinished Painting

Blog Masterlist

Links:

Read on Archive of Our Own

Read on Wattpad

Read on Quotev

Read on Fanfiction.net

*Spoilers Below*

This fic starts off incredibly melancholy. let's properly set the tone, shall we?

"When death strikes, it’s sometimes a long, slow cut. And sometimes, it’s swift as the blink of an eye. It does so efficiently, without remorse, and without discernment. We all die, in the end."

This is the opening paragraph, the reader's first impression of the story and of our protagonist. We cut to Reader-chan (our Reader Avatar) in the hospital directly after her mother's death. There's a sense of shock and upset, but ultimately, resignation.

We know from the story that her mom had been sick for a while.

"It wasn’t sudden, nor was it unexpected. Mom had been sick for a very, very long time."

"Mom’s death had been a slow cut, festering over months and months until it was long overdue."

This is something she's been preparing for quite some time now. But there's still the undercurrent that she's not dealing well. You'll notice that she has no support structure; there are no others in the hospital with her.

Reader-chan is very much alone. She has few friends, and most of her family is distant or has since passed on.

"I was nineteen when I was made an orphan."

"After Dad had died unexpectedly from COVID complications..."

"And then [the younger sister] become an adult. And she’d left me behind without a backwards glance."

I know you're thinking, 'Author-san', why would you give us such a depressing start? This is so sad'. And, primarily, it's to ease the transition when Reader-chan transmigrates to the JJK world. If she'd have had a family who loved her and supported her, would she have wanted to stay in her new world - which, in this story, is portrayed in an incredibly dark way? For me? I'd say not. I'd claw and scrape and scream to get back to my family, hot fictional men be damned.

When isekai stories have protagonists that just go 'this is my life now', it really tanks my immersion. Especially when they're supposed to be serious dramas. Comedies are a little less glaring, because there's a suspension of disbelief that allows me to excuse more. But dramas? Oh boy, if you have family in your old world, you'd miss them too.

So, her losses before the start of the main story justify her lack of desire to return home - because it is something she struggles with in the first few chapters. Not only that, but it also reinforces her mental strength. She lost her dad and mom within a few years of each other and her sister is globe-trotting, so what could I possibly throw at her that's comparatively worse?

A character that has less to lose or less to return to is easier to manipulate emotionally for the author. There are less hangups, less connections to keep in mind, and less loose ends to tie up when the isekai inevitably ends.

Not only that, but the grief she experiences gives readers an immediate point of connection with her. Most everybody can identify with the loss of a loved one. Whether it's a parent, grandparent, or sibling that has passed away or simply lost touch, that sort of mental anguish resonates with humanity on an intrinsic level. We, as the readers, see her pain and understand it.

And we want to see her pick herself back up and move on from this.

We go from the hospital to her apartment, where she unpacks the last of her mother's belongings.

Reader-chan reveals that she'd been taking care of her mother before her death, for some unknown amount of time. And, in doing so, had let her own life fall by the wayside.

"I’d been able to see my ribs at one point, and my collar bones had become pronounced in the v-necks of my shirts."

"I’d neglected other things, too."

"An easel and canvas lay covered in the corner of the room, doing little more than collecting dust. [...] My book collection was little more than decoration at this point, too."

"I’d just lost my job. [...] I’d gotten fired for taking care of her."

"I wasn’t exactly qualified to do anything else, since I’d dropped out of college [to take care of her mother]."

Things like her health, career, future goals, hobbies, and interests were all discarded. Reader-chan, in dedicating her life to her mom, had completely derailed it.

This is the characterization we get of Reader-chan: she's toxically altruistic. Reader-chan is an incredibly kind person. She's hard-working, fiercely loyal, and selfless. This is to set up not only her desire to save those around her, but her own personal conflict within the story itself.

She can easily be viewed as a doormat, letting others take advantage of her. She bends under pressure, gives pieces of herself with terrifyingly little asked in return, and is unconcerned about her own wellbeing. Which is... very much not okay.

Despite this, we see that she's surprisingly resilient when faced with seemingly-insurmountable odds.

"And I resolved that I was going to go back into the store and talk to my boss"

"I could’ve started doing murals for the businesses in town again. [...] I could’ve paint windows for offices or the brickwork facades downtown, or done commissions for smaller pieces [to pay for her expenses]."

Reader-chan almost immediately starts to make plans to get back up onto her own two feet. Which shows that she's mature for her age, and able to deal appropriately with setbacks as they come. She's also not prone to getting overwhelmed and giving up.

Cut away again, and we find her in the parking lot of her old job, intent on talking to her boss to get it back. And she's trying in vain to get a hold of her distant sister.

She leaves a voicemail, to no avail. And for the first time, we see her truly angry...

"Snapping in anger, gripped the phone so hard that the fragile class façade threatened to break. Part of me hoped it would, that spiderweb cracks overtook it and the screen shattered in my grasp. So I’d lose her number and never have to call her again. Then I’d never have to see her again, either."

... and her immediate regret.

"I’d never see her again, just like Dad. Just like Mom."

"Was that what I really wanted? … Maybe not."

Because, despite the fact that her sister left her behind, she still very much loves her. And, if she cuts her sister loose, she really will be all alone.

I included a strained sibling relationship because, initially, I wanted there to be something that Reader-chan would be conflicted about. Should she rekindle her relationship with her sister - forgive, forget, and move on? Or should she hold a grudge in her heart, even if it leaves her miserable?

When she gets isekai'd, the conflict becomes: should she put forth the effort return home to her sister, knowing that their relationship is only hanging by a thread, or resign herself to her fate in her new universe?

We catch a glimpse of fandom. We know that Reader-chan enjoys a myriad of media, but that it's fallen by the wayside in recent months.

"Only a few manga volumes had been touched, when I’d take them to the hospital to read with Mom; she’d liked looking at the pictures."

"On the rearview mirror, little chibis of my favorite anime characters hang and jingle together."

I made eye contact with tiny Tsunade from Naruto [...] the blindfolded gaze of Gojo [...] next to Levi Ackerman.

So we know that she has a keen interest in manga, specifically, judging from her collection and from the characters she keeps in her car.

After getting off the phone, frustrated and angry with her sister, she attempts to calm herself down by reading through her curated stories page. Which leads to this:

"And I saw a headline titled 'JJK: Fan-Favorite Character Killed in Battle', with a picture of Sukuna next to it."

"Out of curiosity, I clicked on the article and scrolled down, looking for the manga panels in question."

"Because it wasn’t Sukuna dead. Gojo Satoru had been bisected, cut clean through, and left in a pool of his own blood."

Reader-chan reacts like this:

"“Th-that’s not possible, right?” I inhaled through my nose. Out through my mouth. Trying to calm myself."

"I stared at [the tiny Gojo keychain] for a bit, and yanked his chain off the mirror, tossing him into the back seat where I couldn’t look at him anymore. Then I pressed my face into the backs of my hands and screamed at the top of my lungs."

"Because the universe was so fucking funny that it had to play some sort of cosmic joke on me. Because Gege killing off that character just had to happen now!"

Up until now, we've seen her handle everything with a surprising amount of grace. We can tell that she's deeply upset by the loss of her mother, sure, but she's putting on quite the brave face. Or maybe she's simply too shocked to be anguished. yeah... definitely the second option.

"I watched the doctors rush around like I was a thousand miles away, observed from outside of my body as they tried in vain to bring [her mother] back from beyond the threshold."

"I went about my motions like I was piloting myself remotely."

"Even as I unpacked her stuff, I didn’t cry. I was just… empty, I guess. Too tired, or maybe too shocked."

"I still didn’t cry. Not when my whole world was collapsing around me."

But the moment she reads about Gojo's death, it acts as the metaphorical straw. And she's the camel.

"Unable to help myself, I laughed. I laughed so hard that my shoulders shook. And I laughed so hard that the laughs turned to sobs, and then to wails."

"I cried."

"It was ugly, and violent, and so stupid. [...] I cried for what felt like hours."

Initially, I was kind of wary of putting this chapter out into the world because of this moment. Because, yeah, her mom died, but she's going to cry over an anime character? That's the criticism I honestly expected.

"I was an idiot, losing it over some fake guy when I couldn’t even shed a tear for the woman who’d raised me. And though I tried to stop, the waterworks kept coming and coming and coming."

But it makes sense in my mind, because we humans displace our emotions all the time. We get irrationally angry or sad at things and take our emotions out on them. Have a bad day at work? Get mad and kill something on a videogame. Upset? Watch a sad movie and cry about it.

I do this with 'The Fox and The Hound' all the time! I'll put it on and just weep until my eyes and head hurt. And, man, does it feel good! Like, on the days when my emotions are going haywire, like when I'm on my period, I just want to vent.

Gojo's death isn't what makes her sad enough to finally cry, but it gives her the perfect outlet for her emotions. It's a way for her to finally experience the emotional devastation of losing her mom without touching on the raw wound itself. It's a catharsis that she so desperately needs.

Crying really does help her. Sometimes, all you need is a good breakdown to realign your axis.

"And, little by little, I came back to myself."

"In the aftermath, there was a bit of clarity, of peace. The buildup and the release of pressure. [...] Weight lifted off my shoulders and I felt a levity that I hadn’t in months. [...] I felt like I could breathe again. Like my lungs were expanding properly and my heart was beating in my chest instead of my throat."

"Turns out that crying is good for you; who’d have guessed?"

After she cries, she picks herself back up and resolves to push forward. Starting with getting her job back, then ending with possibly rekindling a relationship with her sister.

This is one of my favorite parts of this little chapter because it perfectly encapsulates the whole vibe of 'post-nut clarity'... but for sobbing like a crazy person, obviously. Like, we all have that moment after we cry where everything just sorta clicks into place.

Reader-chan, for a solid moment, is standing tall. And she's putting her own emotions and needs first.

She calls her sister, getting out of her car. And while she's leaving a voicemail, she finally meets her fate.

"But I never got to finish my ultimatum. The screeching of tires cut me off as I whirled around just in time to see the grill of a large truck barreling toward me. And then there was the sickening crunch of bones breaking and somebody screaming."

This is where the isekai truly begins. Because when she dies, she winds up in a black void. And this void is where the next chapter opens.

We have a callback to our first paragraph.

"When death strikes, it’s sometimes a long, slow cut. And sometimes, it’s swift as the blink of an eye. It does so efficiently, without remorse, and without discernment. We all die, in the end."

Keen observers may also notice that prior to being run down, the story is in past tense. Everything past getting struck is in present tense. This is to reinforce the idea that Reader's old universe and life are permanently 'was', while her new world and life permanently 'are'. A little bit of author psychology for you guys.

There's also one of my favorite side stories ever in this: 'The Saga of The Shopping Cart'!

"I scowled when one person pushed their empty cart into another parking spot instead of the cart return. Idiot."

"A gust of wind blew the loose shopping cart in front of me, and I let it cross before making my way towards the building."

"Because that shopping cart had blown onto the road, in front of a vehicle going way too fast. [...] And in a bid to avoid hitting it, the driver had cranked their wheel. And hit me instead."

I love this introduction chapter, because I feel like it gives us a solid foundation for Reader-chan. We immediately know what her motivations are, how she reacts in the worst situations, and whether or not we'll personally identify with her during the series. It also sets the tone really well, in my opinion: dark and sad with a shining glimmer of hope on the horizon.

The title, 'Unfinished Painting', is a reference to both her neglected work in her apartment and to her life being cut short before she can be fully realized.

"Every morning, I gave [the easel with her painting] a nasty side eye, wondering when I’d just get rid of the stupid thing. Maybe it’d be good to start fresh on a new piece."

"I [..] crossed over to where my easel had remained untouched [...] The painting on the canvas was half-finished, a work-in-progress that’d never quite made “progress”. It was an ambitious landscape painting: colorful sunrise breaking over the Colorado Rocky Mountains, with clouds encircling the highest peaks and rays caressing the jagged edges of the cliff faces. It’d been detailed, almost obsessively so, and vivid."

"I traced the edges of the painting fondly. It was supposed to be my best work yet. And it had been. For a time."

The parallels become even clearer when digging into the color symbolism of red paint.

"[..] in a fit of rage, I’d thrown an entire tube of red paint at [the painting]. Crimson splatters dot the scenic mountains like blood spray."

"All the hopes and dreams inside my head smear across the pavement like paint spatters on a canvas. Just a red, red stain."

But, there's also the implication that death isn't the end. That she can take this and make it better.

"The painting wasn’t necessarily ruined; I could still restore it if I worked hard."

"Maybe it’d be good to start fresh on a new piece. If I ever found inspiration to draw or paint, anyway."

When we consider that 'The painting' is acting as a parallel for her life, it essentially changes this to mean 'My life isn't necessarily ruined; I could still restore it if I worked hard.' And 'Maybe it'd be good to start anew. If I ever found the inspiration to live, anyway.'

Which all points to the idea that a fresh start is, perhaps, a good thing?

All-in-all, I'm super happy with how this turned out. Of course, that could just be my own personal bias, since I wrote it. Who can say?

#REARRANGEDfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #isekai #self insert #chapter by chapter #behind the scenes #writing community #author speaks #self commentary #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc

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thefirstknife · 1 year ago

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It's Tuesday! Veil Log time!

Chioma: The Veil is too great a power for humanity to wield responsibly. All that's left is to close down the facility. Neomuna will go on. Humanity will persist on the back of our unspeakable work. But I won't pass that guilt on to humanity's future. My hands can be bloodied. Let the children have innocence. And in my dissolution, I will find peace. Osiris: I don't know if I agree with Chioma's choice to hide the sins of the past. But... I also do not know what I would do in her place. Nimbus: Quinn says there's a data signature on this file, like something else was crawling the network. A... Vex signature? What's... MSund12? Osiris: There's one log left to decrypt. Perhaps we'll find out.

Alright.

So, my thinking here is that the reappearance of MSund12 and the Vex signature is once again strengthening the whole idea of how various Vex technologies are incredibly close, in some way, to the Veil being capable of moving consciousness. MSund12 is Maya Sundaresh, presumably her 12th iteration in the Vex Network: Maya and other Ishtar scientists were simulated 227 times by the Vex. Upon discovery that they've been simulated by the Vex, the scientists allowed the simulated copies to go on in the network, as a part of an experiment and they continued living and exploring the network independently. A really good lore book that details some of their exploration as well as them meeting Praedyth is in the lore book from Shadowkeep, Aspect. Highly recommended.

MSund12 in this specific format was first mentioned in the Insight Terminus strike, at the end of the strike, as part of one of the two dialogues. You know the one.

There’s an almost unreadable data artifact here, labelled “OXA.” It’s heavily corrupted, but I’m able to make out “MSund12” from the access log. What is “OXA,” and who was “MSund12”?

I summarised everything about the OXA in the first link I added up there in the post. Somehow, one of Maya's Vex simulation copies at some point accessed the OXA and this was important to tell us in this dialogue, but was never expanded upon. This was also the only time OXA was ever mentioned in the game dialogue. All other mentions (the few of them) are in the written lore, and the majority is Collector's Edition and weblore stuff.

And now this same copy is running an interference on this archive. For what purpose? Is it trying to talk to us? Is there something this copy needs to tell us? This is also making me think that there's a possibility that MSund12 also had something to do with the Occlusion and/or Soteria. Stuff about the Occlusion is from the Winterbite quest, painstaikingly compiled in this big post here.

What are they going to tell us next week? Clearly something to clear up stuff about MSund12, possibly finally following up on the dialogue from the Insight Terminus as well. Perhaps giving us some sort of a conclusion. But if there's something to be said about MSund12, I am very excited for the possibility, however small, that this will also tell us something about the OXA and possibly validate the idea that these predictive devices capable of displacing your mind through time are built on the principles of the Veil's power. It would tie the OXA and MSund12 and Maya and her Future War Cult and the Device in a loop around the Veil, possibly explain why Maya was so fiercely influenced by the Veil, how she saw her own voice telling her its name and how it ultimately corrupted her; she is nothing if not a veteran of mind-forking, consciousness displacing and Vex simulations.

I can't come up with anything else for why they would mention MSund12, outside of it just being a funny reference. However, I simply do not think this is just a funny reference; next week is the culmination of this huge lore drop and I just don't think that they mentioned this without it being incredibly important. Also, something interfered with the log, something Vex, so it's not just a random reference. Something tangible happened here. And Chioma basically concluded her findings and decisions in this one so what's the next one? Who will speak to us? An emergency transmission from Chioma? Or someone else?

Don't forget as well that next week's log is the final log of this season, but it has been confirmed that there will be two more. One at the start of next season, and one at the start of the final season. Something extra that will be discovered later. I need to be teleported into the future right now.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #veil log #chioma #maya #vex #losing my mind over one undefined term #normal tuesday with veil logs #but for real i just. man. there's no reason they mentioned this specific term unless it's important

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memphisboomarts · 4 months ago

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Beak and Talons Chapter 5: Wings

Blood warning!

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

Yahsass:

Jp, I need your help! ASAP.

ReadyJP:

Am I in trouble? Omw.

FizzySoda:

Is everything okay?

Jeremiah:

Do you need help?

Yahsass:

We might need an extra hand if one of you wants to come over.

“Krista!”

Jp yelled knocking on the door of Max and Krista’s cottage before walking in.

“Bedroom!”

Jp heard Krista and he ran to where the bedroom was, and there was-

“What in the world?!?”

—-------------------------------------------

“Uh? Krista, isn’t he human?”

Jp asked tilting his head and walking over to the messy nest in the middle of the room.

“He is! But uh you might want to see for yourself,”

Krista's voice quivered gently pulling up Max’s shirt to show his back as Max cooed cuddling up to Krista.

Jp got a bit closer to the two without getting in the nest while staring at the burning rashes and something slithering under the rashes.

“Oh, that's not good,”

Jp gulped quickly scanning the rash before pulling out a small dagger from his inventory,

“His wings are stuck under his skin so I am going to have to create an opening for them. Do you mind holding him still, this might hurt.”

Krista nodded as she hugged Max tight while making sure Jp had room. Jp climbed into the nest before slicing an opening in one of the rashes. Max shrieks while trying to escape out of Krista’s grasp, but Krista holds onto him tighter as he withers in pain. Jp frowned gently pulling out a bloody, fluffy, yellow, and black small wing from the open gash. He sighed in relief watching the small wing flutter before moving to the rash and cutting again. Max just warbled this time while Krista mumbled soothing words into Max’s hair. After the second wing was out, Jp and Krista were finally able to breathe. They both quickly grabbed a blanket or towel and pressed it against the base of Max’s wings.

“Krista? Jp? You guys here?”

Fizzy voice ranged out through the cottage.

“In here!!”

—--------------------

“So Max is not as human as we thought? Or maybe a late bloomer?”

Jp suggested cleaning up the medical supplies lying around.

Max slept contently in the now clean nest, his back wrapped in bandages stopping the bleeding, and wings preened from any blood.

“No Max is completely human. I’ve seen his code before,”

Krista stressed throwing away the bloody clothes that they used.

“Well, that doesn’t answer why he has wings, when did it start?”

Fizzy asked while sitting cross-legged on the floor watching the others clean up.

“I caught it about a week ago, but there is no telling how long before that it was progressing,”

Krista sighed and finished her tasks before sitting on the floor with Fizzy.

“Well then..I guess we’ll just have to ask him when he is awake then,”

Jp faltered closing the first aid and joined the other two on the floor.

—-------------------------

“I HAVE WHAT?!?!”

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

(Chp 1) (Chp 2) (Chp 3) (Chp 4) (Chp 5) (Chp 6)

If you don't want to wait for the next chapter, or don't like to read on tumblr here is a AO3 link!

Beak and Talons - Chapter 1 - MemphyBoom - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Anyways enjoy!

#max mithzan #mithzan #beakandtalonsfic #krista yahsass #yahsass #fizzysoda #readyjp #jerry #pooki #yourpalross #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcytblr #mcyt tag #mcytumblr #fanfics

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horseforeplay · 1 year ago

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hi, is the long covid and basically what youve been talking about recently applies worldwide or its the us issue? i didnt see much about it in like disabled groups or in general in my country but now im concerned i mightve just not dig deep enough? are there any resources i can look into? youre welcomed to tell me to fuck off but also thank you in advance

hi! yes, c19 has gone endemic globally. i'm not sure what country you're in, but if you believe that covid is no longer a problem where you are, chances are that your government is deliberately minimizing a deadly disease. leaders want you to get back to work. disabled people are forced to shelter-in-place indefinitely (just like the rest of the world decided was a nightmare to do temporarily). if you look around and only see maskless people, it may be easy to conclude that no one is masking anymore because they don't have to. the reality is that high-risk people have been pushed even more deeply into the fringes as the virus is free to mutate and become more transmissible. even countries that had more effective shutdowns than the US are seeing an uptick in cases, though those numbers remain less steep. i hope you don't mind if i use this ask to say a lot of things.

here's one link: did u know the spanish flu was called the spanish flu because spain was neutral during WWI and therefore was the first country to break the news? it didn't originate in spain. it was all over europe. the allied powers did not want to "ruin wartime morale" by telling anyone living in those countries that a deadly virus was in their midst. we're in a surreal fucking situation, where the death count was alarming enough in the first year of c19 that governments were forced to react at first, but have now successfully propagandized the majority of the world into believing that it ended. it never ended. (and world leaders and billionaires know it -- they are still protecting themselves. nobody gets to meet joe biden without a PCR test. temporary air filtration systems get installed at high schools where he makes speeches, then taken down when he leaves.) it's not "like the flu" (though the flu kills and disables people every year!). there's no such thing as a "summer flu". it's not like a cold. it's now been able to mutate to look more like a cold (dominant variants no longer have the hallmark fever or even coughing symptoms), but it is a disease that attacks every system in the body. even a mild case can give you organ damage you won't know about until something goes wrong with your body. we are only in year three of this thing. we (and i mean everyone) are flying blind. we don't have any idea what people's life expectancies are going to look like down the line. certainly not for long covid patients.

regardless of pushes to "return to normal", it is becoming abundantly clear (right now, mostly only to those most greatly affected by c19) that there is nothing to go back to. we are puppeteering the limbs of a dead world. now that we understand how masks mitigate the spread of disease, why are nurses cheering and fucking clapping when we remove them again from hospitals? as climate change becomes worse and worse, we are staring down a world where we are meant to accept that the death of "some people" (see: other people) is inevitable. it is not. the preventative action that you take against c19 is preparing you wildfire smoke and the next virus the warming planet helps spread.

resources? resources. here is a great political breakdown of what is happening, called let them eat plague. good reading if you consider yourself a communist or would like to be one. here, too, is an archived version of an atlantic article on what CE/MFS looks like (one of the long covid health outcomes i am living with).

most of my resources center on US handling of the pandemic, but eugenic capitalism is a global problem. unfortunately, i'm not a great collector of links to things i've read even under the best of circumstances. it's just not a strong suit. adding this to the reality that i have been close to bed-bound by long covid for the last three weeks, and i'm just not gonna transform into a great link guy. i'm sorry about this. there are covid activists who are much better at sharing external resources than i am, but we are in the phase of c19 now where most of the people organizing right now are also sick themselves. so, many of them have a tendency to disappear, or struggle to keep pages up-to-date. some key phrases i might search for on social media for local groups might be "covid aware" or "covid safe", to see if something for your location pops up. i know there are groups in the netherlands, ireland, and australia pushing for covid education and a better world for those disabled by the pandemic.

i think many people are having difficulty understanding how many people have died of c19. for scale, an accepted figure for total global AIDS deaths (as of 2017) is 940,000. that's just under a million. it would be a whole hell of a lot more if not for continuous direct political action (thank you ACT UP), but people (especially in sub-saharan africa) continue to die today. C19 deaths in 2020 alone were at three million. in 2023 we are at over 6.9 million. the crisis never fucking ended. that is over 6.9 million deaths, and counting, in a "post-vaccine" world. (a vaccine is not a fucking cure). i think part of what we are seeing right now is that the people who care the most are fucking shaken. most of us are just stunned. estimates show TEN MILLION people are living with long covid in the united states alone. TEN MILLION!!!! JUST IN THE STATES!

vaccines are not a cure. i will keep repeating this until somebody understands it. vaccines are not a cure. vaccines do not cure c19, no matter where you live in the world. vaccines are also becoming less and less accessible as the public "learns to live with" the virus. some people will never be eligible for vaccines. vaccines make many people living with long covid much sicker (as happened to me). i will continue advocating for vaccines, as i advocate for all precautionary measures (like nasal sprays which i am also allergic to since long covid can cause MCAS), but it needs to be said that many many people cannot access or safely use these measures. world governments would like you to believe that a high tech intervention (vaccines) have saved us from having to bother with uncomfortable low-tech measures (masking). resist this. i was double boosted and healthy when i had my first (and only, to my knowledge) covid infection in september of 2022. i am 27 years old and this virus has disabled me.

i was also masking frequently in public when i caught covid. masks are a bit like car seatbelts; it's a smart fucking idea, but you can still crash. this is an imperfect comparison, though, since then your seatbelt would also be protecting your passengers and other drivers. when the burden of masking falls only on vulnerable people, everybody gets fucked. one-way masking is safer than not masking, but it's not half as effective.

there is no known cure for long covid. that means that doctors will tell long covid patients that they do not know what is wrong with them at every turn, oftentimes disbelieving, minimizing, and recommending treatments (like exercise and weight loss) that can leave patients bed-bound or dead. any covid infection can become long covid, in any person, at any age, and your chances of developing long covid INCREASE EXPONENTIALLY with each infection --building immunity with repeat infections is an insidious and deadly myth. covid infections compound. how many times are people expected to get this fucking virus?

when you are in public, the chances that you are either around a high-risk person or around someone who is in close contact with a high-risk person is almost 100%. break every goddamn transmission chain you possibly can.

invest in an N95 (or better) mask. here is a link to where i buy mine. governments should provide these, as well as free access to vaccines and testing sites and medicine for acute infections, but we are in the phase now where major pushes for activism are only barely getting their land legs while the majority covers their ears and goes on laughing and drinking and dancing. be there when the screams get loud enough. add your voice, help the day come sooner, so less children get long covid at school and less friends get heart attacks at 30 and less grandparents disappear and lovers you used to enjoy dining with lose their sense of smell and taste forever. there will be greater collective action as this moves closer to home for more people. but in the meantime.

live compassionately. as the world moves on, we need people everywhere to start fighting back. take action for people who can't (cuz people who should be in bed resting or processing all this fucking grief are being forced to act and can feel very alone).

this is one ask and i will probably post more later but tumblr dot com is just not my primary outlet for activism or expression lol. i have mainly used this page to vent a few times because i am quite literally trapped in my house unable to work. but it's my silly blog where i go to be silly. i hope any of this was helpful to you or anybody reading.

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foxgloveinspace · 1 year ago

Text

Hi, it’s come to my attention I should probably share my Sleep Token Fan Fics on this website, so here is an official post I’ll update and stuff.

I want to say, publicly here, I am Not shipping the band members. I am, shipping their stage personas, and do not want to even think of them off stage in that way (because shipping real people makes me uncomfortable). I have separated the characters and the people who play them so much that I forget I’m even writing about Sleep Token. Ok? Even if they are just playing up their own personalities, they are still putting on a show, and putting on characters.

That being said:

All my Sleep Token fics are in a series (so far). All you need to know is that it’s set in an au where they are not a band, just a cult and a polycule, and Sleep is a loving but mean dom. And it’s all an excuse to write smut about sub!Vessel. Cause I love content where he gets to be a #mess, and I remembered I can make it myself lol.

You need to be logged into your ao3 account to be able to read my fic, I locked them all a few years ago when people where copying fics to other websites with pay walls, and I left them locked. I’m glad I did cause there’s a lot of scams happening right now anyway. Make sure to also read all the tags on the fics! And I usually put trigger warnings in the beginning notes!

Give In Again and Let Me Lay (My Arms Belong Around You)

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Vessel/Sleep, background I/II/III/IV (polyvessels), Vessel (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but theres a tiny tiny bit of plot. Dom/sub,Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mentioned Tentacles (past), Bondage, Cis Vessel (Sleep Token), (sorry about that one), Witch-y Vessel, Non-Human Character, Non-Human Genitalia, (for Sleep), Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep only came to his room for two reasons, the first and most common, was when Sleep wanted Vessel to try some new magic or ritual, ones that would leave him tired enough that he might pass out immediately after. Those were usually his least favorite, the magic and energy draining from him left him feeling empty and hollow for weeks after, and the accomplishment of getting it right eventually was bittersweet, and not fulfilling. He felt useless as Sleep’s weapon in those moments, but he would do what was asked of him.

But the excitement in the way that Sleep had tugged at their link made Vessel shudder, and not in complete apprehension.

Vessel shuts himself in his room, working on a project. He doesn't realize how long it's been since he's left his room to do more than eat, and accidentally worries the others to the point that they get their god involved.

I am the Shadow, You’re the Passenger

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Vessel/II/III/IV, Vessel/iii, Vessel (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, (but so little it's blink and you'll miss it), Not a Band AU, Technically This Is A, Cult AU, Domestic Fluff, Trans II (Sleep Token), Trans III (Sleep Token), light body horror, Do NOT copy to another website

Vessel had felt III’s eyes on him since the beginning of The Punishment, as he had started referring to it in his mind. He had felt all of his other’s eyes on him since the beginning of the Punishment. It had only been a week or so, but it had been obvious with III, as if he hadn’t even been trying to hide it. And knowing III he wasn’t, Vessel would turn and catch his eye, as if III was waiting to catch him out. Vessel still flinched back every time, tried to stop it from happening and only made it worse.

It wasn’t like he was shy about it, as if he was completely insecure about what he had done for his god, it was just that he was unused to being so open, even to the other vessels. And a week without the mask wasn’t going to change that, he doubted even the month would.

Vessel can't sleep, III helps. In the process, III finds out Vessel thinks none of his others like his eyes.

Something You Say or Something You Do (A Taste of the Divine)

Tags:

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Free Use Vessel, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Magic, Cult AU, No band AU, Vessel has a magic vagina in this one (just... read it I guess), Trans II, Trans III, Cis IV, Cis Vessel, yes I know., Dom/sub, Dom II, Dom IV, Switch III, Sub Vessel, Dom Sleep, (but Sleep is not here for this one), Cunnilingus, Long Shot, Vibrators, light body horror

He blinked at the ceiling as Sleep chuckled in his mind, and then Sleep spoke,

“Good morning, my vessels.”

Vessel felt the stirrings from the other bonds, the others greeting their god, and he pushed back on Sleep, a good morning of his own, without words.

“I will not be able to be there today for worship as discussed, I will be around within the next 86 hours,” He felt amusement from the others and himself at the use of specific hours from their god, used to it by now but still so endearing, “but because of this I decided that One shall be yours for the day.”

Or, Vessel wakes up on a morning of worship, only to find out their god has made some changes to him in the night. Oh, and Sleep cannot come that day, so he's giving the Others a treat. Vessel.

Take a Bite (of Me)

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), Background Polyvessels, Background II/III/IV/Sleep/Vessel, Sleep (Sleep Token), Vessel (Sleep Token), Biting, Oral, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Blow Jobs, Non-Human Genitalia, so much cum (idk how else to tag this and nothing is coming up oof), Soft Sleep (Sleep Token), Soft Vessel (Sleep Token), Still a little fucky wucky tho? At least to me, Do NOT Copy To Another Webiste

He was home alone, the lights were low, so there was only the lamp behind him where he was sitting on the couch, casting a warm glow over him and his book.

He was home alone, until he felt the crackle in the air, the shift in the pressure, the feeling of his god materializing in the portal that was, for all purposes an empty room they called his, the door of which when opened by Sleep would be the gateway to his world, the world of gods. Vessel only felt the change when he was in the living room or kitchen in a clear open space with the door, but he was glad for it this time, marking his page by dog earring it, and tossing it on the coffee table, as he felt Sleep come up to the back of the couch and loom over him, casting shadow in the golden glow.

Or; Sleep is in a softer mood, and decides to indulge in Vessel's love of his mouth, covering him in hickies.

All Your Darkest Impulses

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, IV/Sleep (Sleep Token), IV/Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), Background Polyvessels, Vessel (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), PWP, Dom/sub, Bottom IV, Sub IV, Top Sleep, Dom Sleep, Mildly Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Non-Human Genitalia, (for Sleep), Vessel POV, Coming In Pants, (For Vessel UwU), Punishment, worship kink, (thats not a tag??), Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep sighed, and stretched his arms wide, in his humanoid form again, and Vessel was starting to associate the form with worship with his god. He turned and leaned back on the counter, watching as Sleep walked into the room, and Sleep’s eyes caught his, but they didn’t hold his attention long, his eyes wondering almost lazily to IV, who was still sitting at the table though his back was ramrod straight, and his hands were in his lap. Vessel could see the way they were clenching and unclenching.

Sleep’s eyes didn’t leave IV, and then there was a soft glow that seemed to be coming from behind them, and IV’s head tilted down. Sleep nodded once to himself, and stepped forward to him, holding out his hand to IV, and hesitantly IV placed his hand in Sleeps. He was tugged up to his feet, and then they were starting to walk away.

Sleep decides it's time to punish IV for the stunt he pulled when Sleep couldn't be there to watch Vessel between II and III. Vessel gets to watch.

Let Me Wrap the Chain

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), II/III/IV/Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), II/III/IV/Vessel (Sleep Token), Vessel (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), PWP, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Human Genitalia, technically, Non-Human Character, Tentacle Monster Sleep, Overstimulation, Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep was floating in the middle of their living room when they walked in the door, his from his second favorite, a mass of wriggling tentacles that had no business being inside such a small apartment, but it was, and it had been before, had been in his room before as impossible as it felt, with his little glances to Sleep now; blocking the lights and casting long shadows over the walls.

It's tentacle smut guys, idk what else to say lol.

Important Authors Note in the notes of this fic.

#very much so #sleep token #sleep token fic #my fanfic writing #is this technically #worship #?? still not sure what counts tbh #it’s all smut babes

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sunnyrealist · 6 months ago

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Chapter 43: A Legacy of Love

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate are on a trip in the Scottish Highlands, exploring the mysterious Blackfold Castle. Protective wards, set by a queen who took her own life, have kept curious treasure-hunters away for centuries. Somehow, Kate and Sebastian are able to enter the palace with very little effort. The great hall of the castle provides much information - a piece of parchment somehow interacts with them, asking them to view the memories of Queen Eilionoir through a Pensieve and promising a great reward for doing so. The memories tell the tragic story of Eilionoir Aitken and Neacal Brody, childhood friends turned lovers who planned to marry but were thwarted when a prince asked for her hand. Her family was destitute, and her father saw the marriage as economically and socially advantageous, agreeing to the match without a second thought. The night before her wedding, Neacal and Eilionoir met in secret and completed a magical ritual for reincarnation. Trapped in a joyless marriage, Eilionoir only found reprieve in writing letters back and forth with Neacal, but Prince Luthais eventually discovered their correspondence and deemed Neacal a traitor to the crown, executing him while Eilionoir watched. Shortly after becoming king, Luthais was assassinated. Still miserable, the queen dismissed the entire castle staff, placed protective wards over the castle, set up the great hall for her future visitors, and, presumably, ended her own life. Sebastian and Kate realize, finally, that they are Neacal and Eilionoir.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the Hogwarts assistant librarian

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+ - minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter features discussion of sui/cide.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 43: A Legacy of Love

Kate touches Sebastian’s arm to halt him. “Wait, Sebastian.”

He turns to face her, wide-eyed and determined.

“Sebastian… Before we write to Eilionoir, we should take a moment. That… that was a lot to process.” She pauses, then smiles. “My love… Do you understand…?”

He gazes upon her for a long moment, grinning brightly. He takes her hands in his. “It was us. Kate… that was us.”

Kate squeezes his hands. “I never knew it was possible. Never. I thought reincarnation was one of those fantastical things people like to believe in.” She moves in closer, looking up at him. “But we did it. You did it.” She chuckles. “Of course you did it! If anyone could, it would be you, Sebastian. Your mind… your passion for learning… creating a spell that endured centuries, that defied death.”

Sebastian speaks warmly. “Don’t discount yourself. Look around, my sun. You did all of this. Your magic was so powerful! You could create protective wards that stood the test of time. You planned and left this here… I think you left this here for us… only us.” He gestures at the table and the Pensieve.

Her mind spins, considering his idea. “No one could ever come into the castle except us…” She trails off, then contemplates it more. “Is it even possible to set wards to only allow specific people inside?”

“Yes,” he replies quickly. “It is possible. I don’t know how, but I know it’s possible. And I’ll find out how you did it. Just give me time - I will research.”

She smiles at him, breathless, then embraces him.

“Sebastian… It all makes sense now,” she whispers, pulling slightly away from him to look in his eyes. “It’s why we have always been so drawn to each other. It’s why I felt… complete… the first time we kissed…”

“You did?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes. Have I never told you that?”

“No,” Sebastian replies. “But I felt that way, too.” He pauses, suddenly realizing another clue. “And Kate - we met on the night of a full moon!”

“That’s right!” Kate gasps. “Good gods, it was all destined! We were meant to meet. To find each other.”

Sebastian presses his forehead to hers. “Kate, we were born for each other. This was always the plan.”

“It was. It really was,” she murmurs, her face filled with wonder.

Their lips press together in a long and serious kiss. When it ends, they spend a full minute in silence, simply searching each other’s eyes. Sebastian eventually pulls Kate back in, desperate to physically connect once more. Both smile and chuckle as their kiss ends. Neither can fathom that the first true case of reincarnation ever personally witnessed consists of each other.

Kate feels so light, as if her soul is being carried towards the sun by lacewing flies - the impossible is, in fact, possible, and achieved because of their love for each other. There is a great comfort in knowing that her gut feeling, the one that insisted that this man was exactly who she was meant to be with, was not just a hunch. It was real and fated - and now they would continue a legacy of love that was once cut short.

“We will do what they never could,” Kate muses. “We will get married. We will grow old together. Spend our entire lives in each other’s arms.”

“Oh, Kate,” Sebastian whispers, clinging to her. “If it’s even possible, I love you even more now. There’s no question, no doubt left for us.”

“No,” she replies, still grinning. “None at all.”

After some more kissing, giggling, and giddiness, they finally make their way to the table, hand in hand, breathless with excitement, their faces filled with pure joy. Sebastian cannot stop looking at Kate - his one true love, his soulmate.

Sebastian immediately dips the quill into the pot of ink, then writes in Scottish Gaelic, translating it all for Kate.

Queen Eilionoir, we have finished viewing your memories.

She replies quickly. I am glad to hear it.

May I ask how it is possible that you are communicating with us?

Ever the curious one. This parchment is enchanted to contain my conscious memory from the day I departed this world. Now, may I ask a question? Do you both know now why you are here?

Sebastian chuckles a little. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

We, Kate and Sebastian, are Eilionoir Aitken and Neacal Brody, reincarnated. And we were meant to come here to make this discovery.

Yes. You would never have made it into the castle otherwise.

So, it is true. You set up the wards in such a way that only you and Neacal could enter.

Yes. I knew it was risky to do such a thing, but I was certain that Neacal’s soul would carry his adventurous nature and that someday it would lead him here. I trusted Neacal more than anything in the entire world. If he believed his spell for rebirth would work, I would never doubt it.

How did you set up wards this way?

There is so much to tell that I believe it a poor use of time to discuss enchantments at the moment. Besides, you will learn on your own. I know it. Now, ask a more important question while I still have time.

Kate glances and grins at Sebastian. He really must be so much like Neacal.

Why? Why did you do such a thing?

It takes a moment for her next message to appear on the parchment, as though she is thinking and choosing her words carefully. I must tell you first that there was no sadness in my decision. I was overjoyed to shed this body and meet Neacal once more in the great beyond, and for us to have our next chance. I did it all for us. For love. I desired to give our future selves the best chance possible to succeed and to not suffer like we did.

How is that? By giving us this information?

Yes, but there is more. I promised a reward. You will find it as soon as we end this communication. I did not wish for either of you to have your lives - and love - determined by money. I have thought long and hard about this, and, indeed, your reward will ensure that your economic status shall have no role in your relationship. I hope that this reward will allow you to reach your dreams - to live life without worry.

Sebastian and Kate look up at each other, wide-eyed.

“I wonder what she means,” Kate whispers.

You have our attention.

I cannot communicate much longer. You will understand. Just wait and you shall have a surprise. And do not forget to look at this table before you leave.

We have so many more questions for you. May we take this parchment with us so that we may speak to you anytime?

No. I do not have enough strength left to enchant it any further. My time with you is running out.

Neither of them seem to know what to say. How many more messages could Eilionoir last?

“Sebastian, we should end this discussion positively. I would hate to be in the middle of a conversation with her only for the magic to run out,” Kate suggests.

Queen Eilionoir, thank you for all that you have shared. We are sorry that you and Neacal did not have a happy end.

Ah, but we do have a happy end. It is both of you.

Kate and Sebastian smile at this. Before they can begin writing another message, Eilionoir continues.

This shall be my final message. Blackfold Castle stands only for you. Once you have read this message, time shall move quickly - twenty minutes will be the extent of your time here. Then, Blackfold will crumble forever. Sebastian and Kate, know this: You carry all of our hopes and dreams. Remember us. Honor our memory by living well, standing together, and loving each other with everything you have. Truly, the most powerful magic in the entire world is love.

Farewell, Queen Eilionoir. We wish you a peaceful rest. Thank you for all you did. We promise to live a life filled with love.

Sebastian and Kate are silent for several moments, contemplating all they have learned. When Kate sighs, Sebastian stands up straight and brings his girlfriend into his arms for a long embrace. She melts into him, closing her eyes in satisfaction. He kisses the top of her head.

When they pull apart, they immediately see three things.

Queen Eilionoir’s correspondence is on fire, burning up.

The table now holds two rings and a much smaller piece of parchment.

Behind the pensieve, items materialize out of thin air, as if they had always been there, just invisible. A chest filled with coins. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls. Crowns set on pillows. Necklaces, earrings, and rings. A bronze handheld mirror, along with a golden comb. A scepter. Large shields. Several ornate swords. Breathtakingly bejeweled wand holders. A pair of golden slippers. Gorgeous pieces of fabric - silks and furs. An embroidered purple cloak. Dresses fit for royalty. Dragonhide boots. A large stack of old tomes. An antique lute. A huge banner bearing a coat of arms. A bronze compass. A marble bust of a woman wearing a tiara. Incredibly rare and exotic ingredients for potions.

Kate blinks several times, then rubs her eyes. How could this be? She turns to Sebastian, who wears a similar dumbfounded expression as he faces her.

“Is this really all for us?” Kate says in a hushed voice.

Sebastian nods. “I think so. Eilionoir said… she didn’t want us to worry about money. She didn’t want it to determine our future, like it did hers.”

Kate imagines what must have taken place. The queen must have gathered as many valuables as she could before exiting the castle for the last time, leaving the artifacts for the future Eilionoir and Neacal to discover. She must have carefully thought it all through. The trust she had in Neacal and his spell for reincarnation must have been positively limitless. Kate smiles, realizing it is a trait she carried on - absolute and unconditional faith in the man she loves.

“Kate,” Sebastian says, interrupting her thoughts. “Eilionoir said we would only have about twenty minutes until the castle is destroyed. I know there’s a lot to process and discuss, but we must hurry if we are to take this all with us.”

She nods in response, coming to her senses. “You’re right. Yes.”

The two of them easily work in tandem. Inside her extendable bag, Kate waits for Sebastian to levitate the items and direct them to her, where she waits at the bottom of the ladder. She then works to organize and stack the items as carefully as she can. The small space, really, not much bigger than a walk-in closet, is quickly filled. She hurries up the ladder when they have finished packing, closing the enchanted bag. Then, she shrinks it and places it inside a pocket in her trousers.

Sebastian and Kate are about to exit the castle when she suddenly remembers what they saw on the table. She takes his hand and rushes to it. Unfolding the small piece of parchment, she shows it to him, since she cannot understand Scottish Gaelic.

He breathes out, smiling. “It’s the spell. The reincarnation spell.” He carefully slips it into a pocket within his cloak.

Then, there is nothing left on the table but two beautiful rings. One is dainty - the band is gold and twisted, leading to a gold setting that surrounds an oval moonstone. The other is weighty and masculine. A square moonstone sits in the center of the wide, green ring, bordered by golden leaves.

To put these rings on would be momentous. Kate’s breath hitches, uncertain of what might happen. Sebastian weighs it in his mind. They are undoubtedly bound to each other, but placing the ring on her finger would feel like an engagement or marriage. Kate once told him that she wanted him to propose purposefully, after meeting her family. As he looks into his girlfriend’s bright blue eyes, there is no doubt in his mind that these are special items - beyond special - that will forever symbolize their connection and infinite loyalty to the other. As much as he wants to place the gorgeous ring on her finger, to impatiently propose here and now, he has learned his lesson. He knows this isn’t the right time.

“My love, we should save these for each other. They are so precious,” Sebastian murmurs, opening her hand and placing the green and gold ring in her palm. Speaking so quietly, he is barely audible when he asks, “My sun, will you keep this ring safe for me?”

Kate closes her hand around it, nodding slowly. She does the same with the other ring, gently leaving it in Sebastian’s hand. She speaks softly as well. “And will you keep this safe for me, my moon?”

“Always,” he replies, touching his forehead to hers, “As long as is necessary.”

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x oc #post azkaban sebastian #aged up sebastian sallow #hufflepuff x slytherin #hogwarts legacy oc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy original character

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crystallinecardinal · 11 months ago

Text

Hypothermic

There was a time before everything went wrong, back before the Unknowing, where Martin felt the gentle warmth of flame inside him. Nowadays, he wasn’t quite sure if it was still there or not. You get used to your own temperature after a while.

—

Or, in which Martin Blackwood gets tied too heavily to the Lonely, and his body temperature abnormally drops.

AO3 link:

Pairing: Jonathan “Jon” Sims/Martin Blackwood

Now, he sits in the new office he’s been given, secluded away from anyone in the Archives. It makes his job a bit easier, he’ll admit. It isn’t like anyone comes in and out of his workspace anymore. At least, no one other than the new Head of the Institute. Even then, though, that’s tentative. He only ever really shows up if he needs to tell his assistant something. Luckily, he isn’t here now, so Martin continues to type away at his keyboard as a cup of tea rests on the tabletop.

The work is simple, monotonous. It’s the closest to infinite boredom Martin gets, but at least it’s something to do. Half the time, he doesn’t even realize how deep he’s gotten into the same thing over and over again, to the point everything is a haze, even with the ginger locks of hair that fall over his eyes momentarily obstructing his vision.

Such is the same today, just the same routine. Although, something decides to intrude on his space. A click cuts through the empty air, and Martin momentarily stops his typing.

“Oh, hello,” he greets the sound. He doesn’t need to do much to know what it is, he recognizes the hiss, he wouldn’t ever be able to erase it from his mind. Still, he glances over to a clearer part of his desk, and lo and behold, there’s a tape recorder, already running without anyone ever touching it. They always show up at times like this, and, quite honestly, Martin’s given up trying to resist them.

“There isn’t much to hear right now, I’m afraid,” he rambles off to the tape, before focusing his gaze back on the screen in front of him. “I mean, unless you want to hear just work, but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

He types out a few more words before he stops again, and picks up the tape recorder. “..Fine. I don’t have a statement on hand, there isn’t really a reason for you to be listening.”

The tape stubbornly continues to run in Martin’s grasp, spooling away. Of course, he muses, it isn’t going to stop that easily. “Okay,” he mutters, half sighing. If only it could be easy to get rid of this thing. Stopping the recorder won’t do anything, though, and he doesn’t think he wants to check the batteries.

So, the old fashioned way it is, then. Martin glances around, and listens to his surroundings. All he hears is the ticking of a clock, and the hiss of the demanding tape. Testing the waters, he calls for Peter, but there’s no sound of familiar static marking his arrival. Still, Martin is alone, the slow tick tick tick filling the room starting to lodge itself in his mind.

“Of course,” Martin remarks, unamused. “You know, I’m not sure why I try at this point, it’s not like anyone’s coming. No one really talks to me anymore in the first place, so I doubt there even would be anyone on their way. I guess that’s my fault, though, isn’t it?”

He laughs, hollowly. “It’s weird. I suddenly get wrapped up in this mess, and can barely find the effort to care. I probably should care about that part, I just—“ Martin sighs, holding his face in his hands. There isn’t a spike of warmth with the first second of contact, just the pressure that comes with the motion. “It’s complicated.”

The tape continues to run, the air hanging empty of any response, any little click to tell him he can get back to what he was doing. Martin glances up at the little object in his hands, and purses his lips. Right. You can’t leave an audience hanging. “You still want more, don’t you? Fine. I’ll say more, but we’re making a deal. I’m not giving you to Jon, or Peter, or anyone. I know it’s probably not a good idea at all, but I’m going to keep you right with me. I really don’t want to have to risk anyone hearing, especially Peter. If he found you—“ He pauses, cutting himself off. “Actually, on second thought, I don’t want to imagine that.”

He does, still, imagine it: the passive aggressive lecture that comes with telling him ‘you’re doing it again, caring too much.’ It isn’t like he wants to. He’d gotten into the habit of it over his life, people-pleasing and thinking far too much about things like these. Even if it’s still there, at least the distance is helping a little. It feels safe, and he’s getting used to it.

“..Anyway,” he begins again, forcing himself out of his internal monologue, “I should probably say something. Just talk, and all. Lay out my thoughts I’ve been having, I guess.”

It’s probably the most he can do, he surmises. As said, still, there’s no one here, and maybe it’ll serve as a good log of things. Or, maybe, he’ll just destroy the tape later. Destroying it sounds good. Even so, he’s starting to understand why Jon used to talk to these things so much. “It’s not like you’ll judge me,” he says, “so I should probably just start from the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“Things used to be a lot more lively here. And, I know, isn’t that obvious? How could the atmosphere not be dreary after everything we’ve been through? With Jon, Daisy, and Tim appearing to be dead, Peter taking over, all the attacks, and then six months being stuck alone… I guess that’s a rhetorical question. I’m pretty sure all of us know the answer by this point.”

“Working for Peter doesn’t exactly make it better. I mean— It’s okay, I guess? Not entirely bothersome. I never had a problem being alone, it’s a comfort for me. Sometimes the silence feels better than all the noise, and honestly, I’m starting to think that I’d probably take being alone doing work for Peter over sitting in my flat, scared out of my mind over supernatural worms for thirteen days straight.”

He sighs, and slumps over his desk, still holding onto the recorder. “In a way, it does make me miss Jon, though, even with the weird circumstances we were stuck together. Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t want to relive everything with Prentiss. I’m just thinking about those late nights in the Archives.”

An image comes to his mind, the nights he spent staring at the ceiling, familiar loneliness clutching him. At those times, he had usually gone to see Jon, against his better judgment. The Archivist had always been a workaholic, and thus was usually still around, even when it was very late, tending to whatever he hadn’t gotten done throughout the day. Back then, he had only barely allowed Martin to stick around while he continued working, but Martin liked the company, even if it meant sitting in gentle silence.

He quickly pushes the thought away, though. Now, there’s no room for thinking that way, for reminiscencing on the past they lost. Things are different now. “Anyway,” he begins again, “I suppose that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You miss him too. He’s suddenly back, and you keep listening. Feeding? I don’t know. Still. I haven’t seen him in,” he pauses, trying to count the days before giving up, “a long time. However long it’s been since I last had to run from him. I know I’m not supposed to, but I still feel kind of bad about that.”

“I really shouldn’t, but sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind over it. It’s like– get over it, Martin, you have new rules to follow if you’re going to make this work! And most of the time, that’s just fine! I can ignore Melanie’s shouts, I turn away anyone who just wants to talk, and I can pass through the Institute without anyone even noticing me. But when I see him, an entire wave crashes over my head. And that’s both good and bad, because well– One, it means it’s harder to do my job. Two, I can’t breathe, and, in some way, it’s exciting, but I also dread it. Which, thinking about it, that’s probably the most terrifying part of it. They don’t tell you when you sign up for pledging your life to whatever these entities are, especially when pledging your life to Peter’s patron, that even the slightest bit of interaction starts to feel strange. If you’re like me, you start to feel detached from everything. Pushing people away has never been easier. But sometimes, you panic. Sometimes, you want to latch onto that wave of excitement, something you haven’t felt in ages, and other times you don’t want to be anywhere near it, because you don’t want to drown. It burns, and I don’t know how. I just know that things got a lot chillier recently, but I’m starting to like it. If I could stay with Jon, I probably would, I think, at least, but there’s too much in the way of that right now. I barely have the energy to do most things, and I know I can’t stay around him. Not if I want him to live.”

“So,” Martin continues, reaching over to his freshly brewed cup of tea, “I guess I’ll just sink into the fog more, and try not to feel any waves over my head.”

He takes a sip of the beverage, expecting warmth in his throat, but finds it feels like it’s been sitting out on a cool winter morning instead. Martin chokes, coughing until his airways are clear. “Ugh— I swear, I just made this a few minutes ago! It shouldn’t be this cold.”

The mug sits unalarmingly, just its usual faded blue ceramic, but Martin continues to stare at it. Suddenly, he remembers the tape recorder, the soft sound of it still running meeting his ears. “Oh– uhm– sorry. That’s all.”

He quickly stops the tape, falling back into his office chair as the silence returns, only broken by the ever steady ticking of a distant clock. He takes a hold of his cup of tea again, eyeing it suspiciously. Okay, really, it shouldn’t be as cold as it is. It’s not like he made it ages ago, it was just before he came in here to get to work. Still, it feels devoid of warmth in his hands.

Martin opts to just drop the subject. It’s fine! He’ll just make new tea later, or suffer through the cold cup. Probably the latter, he doesn’t feel like getting up, and especially doesn’t feel like potentially running into anyone. Not now. Maybe he would’ve in the past, but he’s far past that.

He sighs. Unknowingly to Martin, his breath comes out like fog that swirls around the room he’s in. It’s not like he noticed it in the first place. As said, you start to get used to your own temperature after a while. So, in the end, he begins his work again, finding no point to do anything else. As for the tape in the recorder: he’d make sure to take it home in his jacket pocket, to deal with it there. It’s not like he’d want anyone listening, after all.

And so, the days continue to pass in the Magnus Institute, tendrils of the Lonely only further rooting themselves in Martin’s mind.

~{☁️}~

Sometimes the fog becomes an indulgence. Martin would know that well, with how heavily his heart became tied to it after so many days playing his game and intentionally isolating himself, so much so that it would transform even his ginger hair into cloudy puffs of fog at the ends. He’d know it well, considering his eyes are clouded, his mind is clouded, and he sees nothing but his failures, nothing but his deepest insecurities.

He’s lost in a vast, open space, where somewhere waves lap at the shore. Where that somewhere is, he doesn’t know. He can’t see it, only faintly hear the sound from some other part of his patron’s domain. Yet, still, he welcomes the silence and solitariness. The fog wraps around him, a gentle embrace, and he drowns in the freeze of Forsaken, barely noticeable to his senses. It’s a type of drowning he welcomes, the type where a voice whispers from deeper in the water, “stay here, stay where you don’t hurt, stay where you won’t be a nuisance ever again, stay, stay, stay.” Martin obliges. Maybe he was always meant to be in this place, alone where no one can hear him. That’s what his mind convinces him of.

But then, there’s Jon.

And then, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

When they finally meet again, in some empty part of the landscape, Jon’s touch feels like fire to his skin, warm, unpredictable, and yet, familiar. Even in the distant state of mind Martin finds himself in, where he barely senses a thing anymore, he finds himself gently leaning into the contact, basking in the way it burns. Maybe, if it burns, then some part of him is still alive behind his clouded blue eyes.

Jon doesn’t stagger or falter in the way he holds Martin’s face in his hands, like he’ll never see him again if he retracts his touch. “Martin, look at me,” the Archivist pleads, staring back at him with desperation in his unnaturally green eyes, “Look at me, and tell me what you see.”

And there it is: that familiar wave crashing over Martin’s mind. The wave that drowns him, and yet he welcomes with open arms.

“I see…” He pauses, his voice quivering as something cuts through the fog in his mind. Maybe it’s the burning, maybe it’s the way he’s shivering in the chill. “I see you, Jon.”

He chuckles softly, the burning singeing his skin, reminding him of life. Martin’s clearing gaze meets that of Jon’s, watery sky blue peering into verdant expanses of green, and a smile creeps its way onto Martin’s lips. “I see you!”

When he collapses into Jon’s embrace, it’s a feeling Martin’s been waiting to lean into for the longest time. The idea that he can let go, that he can feel again. “I was on my own,” he whimpers, tears welling in his eyes as his body is scorched by the heat of another. “I was all on my own.”

“Not anymore,” says the Archivist. When he lets go of Martin, allowing him to stand, it’s all too soon. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry. I know the way.”

When Martin takes Jon’s hand and starts walking with him, it feels like touching flame again. He’s too tired and scared to do anything but go along with it. Maybe if he were more aware, he’d do something. Move his hand away? It burns. It’s unpredictable. But still— it’s Jon. And Jon being here means it’ll be okay, right?

As they walk across the vacant landscape, Martin’s mind stays hazy in the empty spaces. At least it’s clearer than it has been, but that’s not saying it’s completely restored. When you get used to the way the fog holds you, the way your mind falls back on it, it’s hard to sense anything else. Maybe he’s able to see now, able to think for himself, but that doesn’t mean he’ll escape unscathed. He knew that since he started to be tied to this place, and he knows it now, even in the half-haze.

Still, at least he’s going somewhere. And somewhere is better than here, because it means he won’t be tempted to stay. Even now, walking at a pace that feels almost routine, part of the Lonely whispers to his deepest fears: stay here, you can’t hurt him here.

Martin simply hangs his head, and continues walking, counting each step and trembling breath he takes. He doesn’t look up, and tries not to think too hard. Maybe that’ll do. He’ll be outside of the Lonely’s hold soon enough, at least, left to try to make do, and find a way to build a new reality.

And when Jon shivers by Martin’s side, a feeling that travels into their interlocked hands, Martin doesn’t even notice it. It’s cold out here in the fog. That’s all it could be.

~{☁️}~

When they finally make it out, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They never can have a good ending like that, can they? That would be too easy, and in their little horror tragedy, easy is never the answer to these things.

They drive up to a safehouse after it all. Their coworker Daisy’s safehouse, to be exact, all the way up in the Scottish Highlands. There, they can rest, and hide away from prying eyes. They can learn to be human again, if that’s worth anything at this point.

Martin doesn’t exactly think there’s any “being human” anymore, but he won’t say that to Jon. Not when he knows he’s thinking the exact same thing. He doesn’t need supernatural powers to see that, Jon’s gaze straight forward throughout the long and silent car ride as well as his reluctance to mention the terrors following them says it clear enough.

And yet, despite the way they’ve run from the Institute, the fog follows them under the door.

Martin often finds it’s the worst in the nights. It’s always the worst then, but to be fair, Martin’s had his fair share of sleepless nights. Back then, the cycle had even started to become routine. Lay down, try to sleep, find that he can’t sleep, try to sleep again, and then lie awake.

The loneliness would hit hard in those times, and he’d always find himself doing something he’d regret come morning, most notably calling someone in the middle of the night just to hear another person’s voice, or writing a particularly heavy-hearted poem. He still wishes he could make it up to Tim and Sasha for all the times they picked up when he was too scared to call Jon. Not that the Archivist would’ve picked up back then, anyway.

You’d think the problem would be fixed by the fact that he now lives with the man who was always on his mind both those nights and now, but that notion is only half-correct. Rather, those impulses to reach out have been replaced with staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing but apathy and the ambient chill of the night, even when covered in what are supposed to be comforting blankets.

He and Jon have avoided talking about the Lonely these first few days, so they’ve actively found themselves separated. It’s not that they don’t want to talk about it. It’s not that Martin especially doesn’t want to. It’s just that it’s hard. They’ve finally gotten somewhere safe, and Martin’s been finding it increasingly difficult to return to feeling. He looks at Jon, feels like his heart is drowning, and half of him wants to kiss him until he can’t remember his name. The other part of him simply doesn’t have the energy to move, nor make the conversation that stunt would call for. That’s the part of him that keeps winning as of late.

And thus, every night, when the moonlight shines through the windows, Martin only sighs, watching the way his breath briefly appears in the open air. The cold seeps in from outside the cabin into his bones, and he’s left in a haze of remembrance, that of who he is now, and how he still feels as if there’s nothing left in him. Maybe there’s nothing he can do about that. Maybe the Lonely will always have a hold on him. Alas, he stares up again, another night alone. He’ll sleep when it finally takes him.

The first few nights after they eventually address the things they’ve wanted to say for forever, Martin flinches from Jon’s touch. It feels like burning, it feels almost dangerous, and when they’re stuck like this, it means it’s not going anywhere. Still, the Archivist is patient, and lets Martin slowly crawl to him, where it’s warmer. Martin isn’t used to the warmth, after all, not when it’s been noticeably absent from his life. Even his own body has become one with its absence, each tentative touch like ice. But if patience and a rare, yet soft smile is what it takes to comfort Martin, then Jon continues to play the role. Sometimes, Martin’s mind wants to tell him it’s a lie, but he pushes it away. With time, he learns to welcome some of the touch again, as it fades into gentle heat.

Such is the case one morning, yet another day alone together. Before the lit fireplace, Martin sits wrapped in a soft blanket, an attempt to warm himself up. Jon sits with him, taking Martin’s hand into his, resting in a gentle hold. It’s a routine of theirs, an effort to try to keep each other comfortable despite the hunger that comes from separation from their respective entities.

“You’re so cold,” Jon murmurs, half to himself, gently brushing his thumbs over the skin of his partner’s palm. It feels like fire, and Martin flinches, but lets him continue.

“I don’t feel it,” Martin says. “Everything just feels… normal. Except hot or warm things just feel hotter. A side-effect of being tied to the Lonely, I guess?”

Jon hums. “Not anymore,” he says, but Martin can’t bring himself to repeat it. The way his palm is cold to the touch should say enough, and the way the tips of his hair have become an icy white should confirm it. Instead, he moves his hand to bring one of Jon’s own up to his lips, where he places a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The warmth prickles, and he can see the Archivist shiver.

“Maybe someday, I still, uhm– feel the impulses, I suppose. That, and I still know that I’m a bit chilly.”

Jon chuckles. “Yes, I… I know the feeling. And for the record, I don’t mind the cold.”

Martin smiles, one of the few times he’s been able to in the recent days. A thought appears in his mind, and for the first time in a while, he actually lets himself give into the want to let it pour. “If you ever want to know when it started,” he begins, “because I feel you would probably know the timeline a lot better than I know myself, then– uhm– there’s a tape in my bag.” He glances away, softly laughing to himself. “Although, I do talk about you in it, I remember that.”

“I’ll listen,” Jon says, a little too hastily, and Martin can see the way his partner’s eyes spark from brown to unnatural green for a moment. Quickly, realizing his mistake, the Archivist reels himself back in. “My apologies,” he clears his throat, “Yes, I’ll listen. I won’t deny, I’m a little curious–”

“Hungry,” Martin teases, watching in amusement at the way his Archivist quickly shuts up. “It’s okay. I don’t know if you can really do anything to me by listening to that one. It’s not like you’re digging into my head if I’ve actively told you to listen. I’ll be happy after you’ve heard it, though.”

Jon smiles again, one of those little rare ones that are slowly becoming more common for Martin to see. He savors each and every one. For a second, the room feels a little less cold, especially with the way that within a few moments, Martin’s lips tingle with the sudden heat of a gentle kiss, and his Archivist has gone off to find the tape.

For now, Martin muses, he’ll allow himself a little bit of warmth.

~{☁️}~

Even after what should have been peace, the world is ending. Both Jon and Martin know that well. They were its end, after all, and that’s something that’s just made the days worse and worse. But Martin had long since given up mourning a world that never cared for him, and tried to help his Archivist along the way.

Finally, they’re going to leave soon, and venture across whatever’s left of their wasted world, a horror show for them to find a solution to. The cabin isn’t safe anymore, but really, nowhere is. Nowhere but the place at Jon’s side, somewhere Martin has found ever more familiar and comforting.

And so, Martin grows more accustomed to the warmth. He stands now with a smile on his lips, bag slung around his shoulders and a dull jacket over his torso.

“We’ll do this together,” he tells his Archivist, extending a chilled hand out to him. When Jon takes it, pulling himself up, it doesn’t sting Martin anymore. Rather, it feels like sunbeams.

“Right, together,” says his Archivist, and the two face the open door. The sky may be looking back, but Martin Blackwood isn’t lonely anymore. Slowly but surely, the fog and frigidity will turn back to life-giving heat in his blood, starting with today.

Starting with hand in unlovable hand, standing at the end of the world.

#I had a lot of fun writing this little thing #practice for another au idea regarding TMA :))#fanfiction writing #fanfic #jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #the magnus archives

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