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mawlaeina · 4 months ago

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отчаянный | Desperate

(adj.) having a great need or desire for something.

🍊 content: Obsessed! Childe x fem! reader, implied red string of fate (sort of)

✦ content w: religious themes (if you squint), praise and worship (if you squint?), implied violence and murder by Childe, general angst

Childe had to fight.

Ajax was not older than 14 years old when he suddenly fell into the abyss on a regular snowy day in Snezhnaya. He closed his eyes for one moment, and the next thing he knew he was falling down towards dark colored waters of what looked like a dimly lit cave.

In seconds, Ajax felt himself crashing down harshly against the surface of the water before he began to slowly sink. He shivered, the water constantly staying icy and cold even when he was below the surface, and there was also an uncanny atmosphere that he felt as he continued to sink.

In a panic, Ajax swam up—the feeling of such a heavy weight on his entire body almost choked him off of oxygen as he managed to break to the surface of the water.

He gasps for air as he steadies himself before be swims to some nearby land. He clings to the sandy ground once he was out of the water, choking and gasping as the density grew greater on his body—as if it was going to crush his lungs and ribs at any given moment.

But he manages to grow accustomed to it a bit as he composes himself once more. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he asks himself what was happening.

He looked around for a moment and realized that the entire place was packed with wolves with shadow-like features that were focused on him upon his arrival.

The creatures were simply staring at Ajax with some kind of dark madness and hunger—albeit slow, some were already approaching him on the little island that he was on.

He had nothing to use to defend himself with—no armor, no shield, no weapons. When one of the wolves finally dashed forward with a jaw slightly hanging and ready to bite, all Ajax could think of was to run.

And he did run away—his legs moving light and fast as he tried to avoid all the other wolves that were coming in front of him. He was running even though his legs were tired, even when his lungs started to feel like they were bursting again.

For a moment, he was happy as he managed to lose sight of the wolves.

That was until he tripped.

He tripped over his own feet and began to roll down painfully against the rough and rigid ground. Once he finally landed at the bottom, his body had taken multiple fractures on the torso, and bleeding wounds on his face and arms.

Ajax groaned in pain, reaching and placing his hands on his hair before weakly clenching his hand on it. Ajax could hear the wolves coming as they howl with distorted voices from the direction he was just running away from.

He began to panic again, his breathing frantic and scattered all over the place. He closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness began to settle in his vision. For a moment he saw glimpses of mental images of his family—his mother, father, older and younger siblings.

Was this it? Was this his demise? He felt like crying, he didn’t want to die, not now, not when he was this young.

Why? Why? Why?

He questions desperately to the gods and celestia.

Fight.

His eyes opened, widening in shock as he wore a stunned expression on his face. He heard someone—the voice clear as day, with words spoken firmly as the frozen ice of Snezhnayan fjords, yet it was somehow spoken with the same desperation that he felt.

Fight, please. I’m begging you.

The voice’s tone broke momentarily, and Ajax could somehow picture someone in front of him as he lay on the ground—the person pleading, their warm and ticklish tears fell from their eyes and onto Ajax’s cheeks. Though their face was blurry and could be vaguely seen, he sensed some familiarity coming from them—even though he remembers no one with such a voice.

I don’t want you to die.

In an instant, Ajax rolls to the side as he avoids a claw strike from a wolf that had already came up to him. His back bumps into a nearby stone wall, but he manages to take a sharp rock before standing up with haste.

His hands are tensed, clenching the sharp stone and wielding it like a kitchen knife. Despite the state of his body, he felt the urge, the need to move and survive against the monster.

Ajax dashes forward as the shadow-like wolf lunges towards him. Before the ruined animal could bite his head off, he slides under the wolf and stabs its hide before slicing through its underbelly using the stone. Once the wolf’s body passes over him, it collapses onto the ground with a pool of blood quickly forming under its lower half.

For a moment, there was some sort of adrenaline that came over Ajax—one that made him feel stronger, more confident to survive, and his fresh kill ignited a newly sense of pride of winning.

He liked how it felt for some reason.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off rather quickly. He coughed out some blood as he drops the sharp bloody stone to the ground, just before he fell to his knees—eventually, his body collapses onto the ground just like the wolf before passing out.

—

Childe had to survive.

When Ajax woke up, he found himself laying on the ground—his body covered in bandages. He groaned as the pain began to strike all over his body. He looked around for a moment and saw numerous wolves laying dead and bloodied everywhere.

He doesn’t remember doing any of this, and it somehow bothered him.

The next thing he knew, he was took in by a stranger who introduced herself as Skirk. He was taught multiple skills on how to survive in this place, which was called the Abyss. Skirk teaches Ajax how to survive and pass through the regions of the Abyss unharmed, and how to wield his hydro vision in the abyss—even though he wasn’t aware that he received a vision at all in the first place.

After a month of rigorous and intense training, Skirk teaches Ajax to wield Foul Legacy. For the first few tries, transforming and using Foul Legacy for even just a few seconds put such a heavy strain on his body, and he eventually ended up in critical condition every time.

When he passes out, he dreamt or had short visions. He saw someone making tea on a kitchen counter, their faces were blurry and could be vaguely seen but he could feel some sort of warmth emanating from them. Ajax somehow knew it was the same person who talked some sense into him on the first day that he fell into the Abyss.

He holds his hand out, reaching it gently towards the person.

He wakes up, his breathing heavy as he sweats profusely. Skirk was confused as to why Ajax woke up in such a way, yet she dismisses it as an insignificant nightmare that the young child probably had.

However, in Ajax’s case, he wanted more of that warmth that he felt just now. How long has it been since he’d touch something warm after falling into the cold Abyss? He doesn’t recall, he doesn’t remember—so, naturally, as a young adolescent, he wanted more of it, he craved it.

From then on, Ajax began to train harder, harsher—pushing his body to his limits everyday. He got stronger, and that’s what he told himself what his training was for—to get stronger, to be stronger.

To conquer the world.

A merely shallow form of self-manipulation to deny a more selfish reason he had in mind.

In truth, he wanted to see and feel more of that person, and he did—so long as he passed out. He passes out more frequently now as he continuously extends his limits—pushing himself until his body was in pain from just moving a hand.

Everytime he would pass out, he would constantly try to reach for them when they weren’t looking, he would try to see their face clearer, hear their voice clearer as they talked to him for even just a second. Eventually, he realizes they were a year younger or older than him—if not, they were perhaps the same age as he was.

But as another month passed, he began to pass out less, and when he did pass out, if wouldn’t be long enough to see that person again. While it confirmed that he did get stronger, he was irritated by the absence of such a warm presence. The only light that he had in the Abyss, and now it felt like he was losing it.

Stronger, I need to get stronger.

Ajax thought to himself angrily as he began to train even without Skirk. He continued to push his limits—training in the dark and heavy waters until his lungs almost gave out, training against stronger enemies using his Foul Legacy form, training against every other weapon that he could find in the Abyss. His bloodlust began to grow by the day as he relentlessly hunted the monsters that resided in the Abyss.

Yet for some reason, he no longer saw that person when he passed out. Did he recover too quickly? Were they going to leave him behind now? They wouldn’t right? Right?

He could feel himself losing his sanity, his thoughts full of silent pleas for that person to appear at least once every other day or so.

No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me here, come back.

COME BACK!

—

Childe needed to breathe.

When Ajax came back to Teyvat, he returned to his family cabin in Snezhnaya—to which he was welcomed back warmly and gladly with thankful sobs from his family members. Much to his surprise, he had been only missing for 3 days in Teyvat despite having trained for 3 months in the Abyss.

While Ajax missed his family so much, his thoughts were still plagued with the unknown warmth that he felt in the Abyss. Yes, he enjoyed the warm hugs and such affectionate love coming from his family, he enjoyed the warm sensation of his hands when faced to the fire of the cabin fireplace—but those, for some odd reason, could not compare to the comfort that he felt and witnessed first hand in the Abyss.

They were simply not enough.

It was a week after his return that Ajax looked up to the sky. The last shimmering gloss on his eyes reflected the clear blue skies of Snezhnaya that day, and he wondered if that was just the Abyss playing tricks on his head.

He sighed as he plopped down on the snowy ground. The Snezhnayan cold no longer affected him—not when the Abyss conditioned him with colder temperatures.

His hands twitch for a moment, just like it had been for the last week. He needed to move, to fight. He thought he could control himself, that he could return to just being his mother and father’s son.

But he couldn’t, and on that day, he ended up massacring all the ruin guards he could find in his region using his Foul Legacy form.

Ajax, stop, your body can’t handle any more stress.

His eyes widened after hearing a worried voice just as he was about to move to the next region—a small wave of warmth passes by him, the sensation was weak but familiar. He pauses for a moment, waiting for them to speak again—but there was only silence.

Where are you?

He looked around the snowy terrain, still in his Foul Legacy form. It took him a few seconds of silence before his body began to feel heavy—coughing up blood and collapsing onto the snow as he turns back into his normal self.

Where are you?

He repeats inside his head with desperation. He stood up and began to walk around, his other leg limping as he does so. His mouth was slightly agape, taking in shallow breaths of the thin air as blood trickled down his mouth.

Please, please. Answer me, where are you?

When he finally turned his head, he saw you.

Clear as day, warm as the sun.

His breath hitched as he felt your hand on his cheeks, your warmth constantly emanating and burning through his cold skin. He felt like crying right then and there, but he wondered if you were real—if this was real. He raised his hand to touch yours, and it did.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your voice full of worry—yet its so soothing to his ears. It’s that same voice that Ajax could never mistake for someone else. Ajax just stares at you for a minute, too stunned to speak as he takes in your face. “Hey, you’re badly injured, we should take you home.” You suggest.

Ajax seemed to realize something for a moment. While he knew that the person he’s seen and heard in the Abyss was you, you were acting like a stranger to him—it confused him.

“You’re injured.” Ajax pointed out abruptly as he gently takes your hand off his cheeks and spins you around lightly, which catches you off guard for a second. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his voice low and angry as he runs a finger down your back—your spine crawls at the painful sensation.

“I got hit by a ruin guard earlier and passed out by that tree earlier.” You explained rather awkwardly. “But I’m fine now, so you there’s nothing to worry about. We should get you home since you’re in an even worse condition.” You say as you turned around to face him. “Can you tell me where you live? I’ll help you get there.”

Ajax tells you where he lives, and it surprises both of you that you two were neighbors. What a coincidence, how come you never saw in each other?

It was already midnight when Ajax returned to his family cabin, with you supporting him from the side. His mother was relieved to see his son back, but her concerned grew when she saw him covered in dirt and blood. She thanked you for accompanying him during his journey home.

You told them that you were going to leave, and Ajax couldn’t help but feel devastated by the idea—so he speaks to his mother, saying how you were also injured.

Naturally, as a loving and concerned adult that she was, Ajax’s mother told you that she could at least treat your injuries before you leave, and that you could stay the night in their cabin and return home the next morning.

The look of reluctance painted on your face somehow ticked something inside Ajax’s mind. He never questioned about what happened in the Abyss—how he heard your voice when he was on the brink of death, when he was barely going to survive. He simply concluded that it just happened, that your fates were intertwined so strongly that your voice reached him even when the two of you were worlds apart.

Don’t you feel the same? Why do you want to leave?

He wanted to be angry, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry at you—not when he thinks you’ve done so much for him, not when you saved him from the brink of death in the Abyss. You were his salvation, his one and only savior in this world—not even a single person from celestia came to put him back into his senses at the time, and for that he no longer believes in them.

He believes in you.

When you finally agreed to his mother’s offer, he felt glad—an understatement to the joyful emotion that he had swirling in his chest. He lets you sleep inside his room after being treated, and when you fell asleep, he took it upon himself to watch you.

He was kneeling on the ground, arms and head resting on the side of the bed. He continues to watch you in silence for a moment before he briefly caresses your cheek.

My god.

He lifts himself up a bit, enough that he hovered over your sleeping face. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, feeling the comforting warmth that you had stinging his cold lips.

My universe.

—

Childe suffocated.

When he finally got recruited into the fatui, he was given a nickname, “Childe”.

Acknowledged by the Tsaritsa and the organization for having great strength at such a young age, he was given a chance to be promoted—to become a harbinger, but he had to sacrifice something or someone.

He was made to choose.

Blinded by the loyalty that he swore, he chose to sacrifice someone who would get in the way of the fatui ambition that he had. You.

With fates intertwined as strong as celestia, he was told by the Fatui that you would hinder his progress, his strength.

You were a distraction.

While Childe did return to be a fairly normal person ever since he had you by his side, the warmth that he felt from you slowly faded into something more common. Your warm hugs no longer felt special over time—it was as if you turned into another fireplace for him to stare at.

Snezhnaya was not as cold as the Abyss, and so he disregarded the need for something as warm as you.

So there he stood, in front of you with a knife held dangerously close to your neck. His hands trembled, and he seemingly fought every cell of his body from hesitating.

I just have to kill her.

He thought to himself, his inner voice lacking any sense of determination to do so.

You, yourself, was not surprised that he had come to kill you.

You knew this day would come, and you just hoped it wouldn’t happen to his family. While you were clearly against him joining the Fatui, you said nothing—a decision that you’ve come to regret every day.

As his hands trembled, you smiled sadly—closing your eyes as you held his hands. For a moment, his eyes widened, and everything turned silent as the sound of blood splattered on the ground.

Childe did not come home to his family that day like he said he would.

—

Childe has forgotten how to breathe.

“What do you mean you don’t know about big sister?” Teucer pouted, and Childe simply laughed confusedly at the young ginger.

“Who are you talking about, Teucer?” Childe asks his younger brother without a single shine of sunlight reflecting his eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about!”

“Big sister Tonia?” Childe raises a brow, but Teucer shakes his head with a frown—he was getting upset with his big brother now.

“The one you always brought to go ice fishing with us.” Childe doesn’t know what his younger brother was talking about.

“I don’t recall bringing anyone other than you when we go ice fishing by the lake, Teucer.” Childe spoke honestly and knelt down to Teucer’s level. “Buddy, are you sure you aren’t tired?” Childe asks worriedly.

Teucer shakes his head, still frowning.

Everything was so odd for Childe ever since he woke up this morning. Everyone in his family cabin had asked him about someone he doesn’t know about—his family claims that the two of them were close, very close, and they wondered why Childe no longer remembers them.

Who on earth were they talking about?

Childe asks himself as he holds Teucer’s hand as they walk to the frozen lake nearby. He wonders who that person was, and how he forgot about them if they were so close.

Once they arrived to the frozen lake, Childe couldn’t help but stare at the scenery for a moment. It was as if he was stunned for a moment from the aching sensation that he deeply felt in his chest.

It was the same lake that he’d visited in his entire life, yet for some reason…

Why is it so cold?

✦ this is kind of bad.. idk how to feel about this

✦ I didn’t want to write this because I hate angst + my sweet boy, but if I suffer I’m dragging everyone else with me

✦ would rather praise and worship him instead ngl

✦ there’s gonna be an extended version of this if I don’t get lazy soon so look out for that

✦ Yes, there’s ivantill reference there

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hannahssimblr · 4 months ago

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Photoshop Tutorial #1 - Change Background & Add Reflections

Before & After

You will need

Photoshop

Internet Access

I was inspired to make this tutorial after facing a dilemma in my game. I wanted my sims to swim in Brindleton Bay, but, shock horror, the water there is not swimmable. Luckily, I know how to change the background of my screenshots to make it appear as though it is - and I'm going to bring you through the process of how!

Starting off, in game, I brought my sims to Tartosa and got my desired shot. Then, heading over to Brindleton Bay, I got some shots of the horizon that I wanted as a backdrop.

Here's a picture I took:

Okay! Let's open up Photoshop!

For reference, I have Photoshop 2024, but most if not all of the features I've used should be included in older versions too.

Here's our image! Now I'm selecting the Background layer in the layers panel and press CTRL J twice to create two duplicates.

I'll turn off the bottom two layers for now, (by clicking the eye button, for newbies) and go to the properties panel. this should be on the right hand side, above the layers panel, but if it isn't, simply go into window > properties to switch it on.

With the layer selected, I click remove background and voila! Photoshop has... er... done her best to remove the background (she sometimes gets it wrong, but at least it's a help)

You'll see that a layer mask has been created. (circled in image).

If you haven't used layer masks before, the only important thing to know is that black will erase and white will add.

So with my brush tool (shortcut B) selected and set to black, I can go around the image and erase all of the parts I don't want.

If you have a steady hand and a tablet/cintiq you can do the same job a little quicker with the lasso tool (shortcut L) by selecting any unwanted area and simply pressing delete

Once I've removed all that needs to be removed, I see that there's a little slice of her hair that needs to be added. I can change the brush colour to white and paint it in.

Done! Easy!

Okay, let's switch off this layer for now, and switch on the one beneath it.

This is the layer I want to make look like the Brindleton Bay sea. So I'll make sure to pull an image of the water up as reference for colour.

This time I'm going to create a layer mask using the polygonal lasso tool

It's easy.

Find the lasso tool in the tool panel on the left of screen (the third icon from the top - or by pressing L on your keyboard)

Left click & hold, and a menu will pop up. Select the polygonal lasso tool.

Click around the area you'd like to mask, in my case, the sea. Tip: if you hold down the shift key while clicking, you will be able to create perfectly straight lines.

Click on the layer mask button at the bottom of the layers panel (pictured)

Everything except the selected area should disappear!

A small thing here, but I don't want the reflection of the rock in the water in my picture. I'll select the layer (not mask), take the eyedropper tool (shortcut i) with the sample set to all layers, and use a soft brush (B) to paint it away.

Next I'm using adjustment layers to edit the colour of the water, to try and make the blue turquoise paradise look more like the horrible green bog water of the bay.

You'll find these next to the mask button in the layers panel.

For my picture, I'm using hue/saturation for the colour and levels for the light. you can fiddle around with any of the adjustment layers to find what works for you.

I've shown the adjustments I've made for my specific scene below, just for reference.

When I'm happy with the colours/lighting, I select all adjustment layers (shift + L click to select multiple), then right click and choose create clipping mask. This is to ensure that the adj layers don't affect any other parts of the image, just the area I want it to.

And there! My water is looking sludgy, just like I wanted.

Okay! I've decided that I'd like some texture in the water. It always annoys me that sims water looks so flat. So here's where Pinterest enters the story.

I like Pinterest because unlike Google, the majority of the images are not watermarked. You're also slightly less likely to find AI slop.

I wanted some water ripples, so I searched for something like Water Texture, found one I liked, and dragged and dropped it into my photoshop file.

From here, I transformed it (CTRL + T) by resizing & rotating the bounding box, then grabbing the corners while holding CTRL to create some kind of perspective that works for the image.

I didn't bother bringing it all the way to the horizon, because I intend to fade that out with a gradient anyway. I had to sacrifice the bottom of the image for the sake of correct perspective, but that's fine. I will crop that out later.

With the texture layer selected, set the blending mode to soft light. It blends nicely!

Now! Another layer mask! These are our friends

With the texture layer still selected, I create a layer mask.

This time, because I had nothing in the image selected first, the layer mask will appear white. That just means nothing has been masked yet.

With it selected, I find the gradient tool (shortcut G) if you press G and the paint bucket tool is activated, simply navigate to the tool panel on the left of the file, hold the paint bucket tool down and select gradient.

I'll change the colour to black, and make sure I have the foreground to transparent gradient selected.

Other settings are pictured.

I'll drag the gradient over the area I want to mask. In this case, the top of the water texture to make it appear as though it's fading away towards the horizon.

(Doubly make sure you've selected the mask, not the layer while performing this action.)

Looking good!

Time to drag the layer above your adjustment layers and create a clipping mask again.

Alright! Let's do the background.

I'll drag that image of Brindleton Bay that I took earlier into the file.

I want to place it below my sea layer, and above that original background layer (I am going to leave that untouched for insurance reasons)

Then, using the move tool (shortcut V) I'm simply going to move it to the correct place. Basically I just want the horizon lines to match up.

Tip: hold the shift key to drag an image in a straight line.

Enter to confirm.

You can see that the sky is now unfinished, but it's such an easy fix. I'll just select the sky colour with the eyedropper tool, then use the paint bucket tool & brush tool to fill in the sky.

Done!

Now - note that the sea doesn't quite blend in with the background. To fix this, I'm going to take my eyedropper tool (shortcut i) and select some of that dark green colour beneath the mountains.

I will create a layer (+ button on the base of the layer panel) and drag it above that sea texture layer I created earlier.

Then I'll create a layer mask to clip it to the sea.

I'm grabbing that gradient tool again (G) and creating a nice gradient on the horizon.

The horizon line is a little sharp, in my opinion, I want it more faded. So, using a soft brush (B) and that same green colour, I'm going to create a new layer & place it above that green gradient, this time I'm not clipping it.

Holding down the shift key, I'm going to draw a straight line right across the horizon. This helps to blend it all together a bit better.

Now! for Reflections!

Firstly, I'm going back to that sky layer with the Brindleton Bay mountains, and I'm going to duplicated by pressing CTRL + J

I'm dragging it above the sea layer, but below all of the other clipping masks. This will automatically create a clipping mask for the new layer.

Next, I'm going to edit > transform > flip vertical

With the move tool (V) I'm moving the image upwards so that the horizon lines meet and it looks like the lighthouse and mountains are reflecting in the sea.

Note: make sure auto select is off while using the move tool on a layer that lies beneath several others.

This leaves a little bit of a mess on the bottom on the canvas, which can be fixed by creating a layer mask & the gradient tool set to black, and dragging a gradient over the bottom of the image until it blends nicely into the sea.

With the mountains reflection done, I'm going to move onto the people.

I'll turn that top layer that I worked on earlier back on.

Then I'll duplicate it (CTRL + J)

Right click on the layer mask of the duplicate and select Apply Layer Mask from the dropdown. This simply bakes the layer mask into the image. Usually I try to edit non-destructively as much as possible, but in this case it's fine to destroy.

I'm going to rename this layer Reflection

With that new, reflection layer selected, I'll go to Edit > Transform > Flip Vertical, just like before.

I want to add a little water/shimmer effect to their faces, so I'm going to Filter > Distort > ZigZag

I'll just mess around with the settings here until I find something I like.

This is optional, obviously, I've done reflections in edits without doing any of this, but it just adds something a little extra to water scenes, I think.

Here's a time I didn't do that.

anyway, my sims are looking a bit crazy now, but it's fine, because I'm going to, you guessed it, add a layer mask and gradient.

But first, using the lasso tool (L) I'm going to draw around one of the characters and drag her into place. I can move the bounding box around a bit to make her shoulders meet in the right place.

Then I'll do the same for the other character.

Tip: Hold CTRL while moving, warping or resizing something for a smoother, more precise experience.

Now, I'm doing what I said I would, and I'm creating that layer mask. We know how to do it by now, right?

Make sure everything is deselected first by pressing CTRL + D

Create layer mask

Select Gradient (G) set to black

Drag gradient over bottom of reflection (If you ever need more precise gradients, you can select the round gradient at the top of the file. I needed it to blend the reflection on the right more, because the characters are not at an even height.)

In the Layer panel, change opacity to 20% (or whatever you like) and hit Enter to confirm

Using Crop (shortcut C) I'm going to crop my image, cut off that pesky strip at the bottom and just basically make the framing of the picture a little bit nicer.

And viola!

I could edit this image more, throw in bounced light, splashes etc etc but I'll leave it like this.

The only thing I will add in is a little lens flare to indicate sun, so again, I'm taking to Pinterest and searching for one that works.

Tip: make sure the background of a lens flare image is completely black. Otherwise it will be harder to use.

Below is the one I have chosen.

I'm simply changing the blending mode to screen, moving it and resizing it with the transform tool (T), and fiddling with the opacity until I'm happy.

That's it!

I made a video running through this whole process, with all of my shortcuts in the bottom right hand corner so that you can see exactly what is happening.

youtube

If there are other tutorials you'd like to see in future, please let me know!

And I'm more than happy to answer any questions!

Good luck <3

#sims 4 tutorial #editing tutorial #sims editing tutorial #sims 4 edit #photoshop editing #photoshop tutorial #sims 4 community #simblr #Youtube #sims 4 photoshop tutorial

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vainilladollie · 4 months ago

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tristful.

benny was about to cry ;( had he done something wrong? no, he wouldn't even be in bed if he had. He had arrived at 4:30 in the afternoon with bags of groceries, because he decided to make them, and another one with your favourite desserts from that expensive bakery where he was almost beaten out of there if it wasn't for the fact that you got along with the staff, and they knew him well enough to know he wasn't there to cause trouble...maybe not today. Benny was observant so the minute one when you weren’t standing at the door with a shy smile ready to greet him he knew something was wrong, and then he found you in bed with your nightgown to sleep in and a thousand tissues strewn across your side of the room you were hugging his pillow with all your might, cry baby. And now here you were, your sticky, sweaty cheek against Benny's bare chest as you sobbed ;( he didn't ask anything he just walked in carefully, his clothes went into the laundry basket and he even saw the moment you peeked out a little to see him, he carefully lit the scented candles that soothed you and turned off the light, now that you two were cuddled up, he didn't ask what was bothering you he just give you a big hug and comforted you; benny was a protective thing that made you feel safe and whole, maybe later they would talk about what happened but now he just wanted you to feel a little love and calm down. As you had taught him, it is not bad to be sad.

tristful; (adj) deeply yet romantically melancholy

edit! thank you so much for all the support, it makes me happy to know that you like what I do and write.

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hammondcast · 2 years ago

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Event Link 2023 NAMM Show Schedule

https://www.namm.org/thenammshow/2023/session/jon-hammond-funk-unit

Jon Hammond Funk Unit

9:45 am - 10:40 am

ACC, Plaza, ADJ Arena Plaza Stage

In-Person Only

Journalist Ricky Richardson Los Angeles News Observer: “Organist Jon Hammond served up a set of original compositions, funky, swinging jazz and blues to the delight of the crowd gathered at the ADJ Arena Plaza Stage."

Funky Swinging Jazz and Blues instrumentals original compositions by organist Jon Hammond featuring international soloists. As seen on cable TV for 38 years Jon Hammond Show, long-running music, travel and soft news program. Jon Hammond and band members have been performing at NAMM Shows and Frankfurt musikmesse for 33 years, as well as Music China, Japan Musical Instruments Fair and toured Germany with 21 piece Landesjugendjazzorchester German Youth Jazz Orchestra. ASCAP Composer Publisher and Member American Federation of Musicians Local 6 and Local 802, 2014 NAMM Believe in Music award recipient.

NAMM Show Sessions April 13th - on behalf of Jon Hammond Funk Unit folks, saddened to hear of Wayne Shorter's passing - we are looking forward to kicking things off again when the doors open at Anaheim Convention Center play some funk for ya'!

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thoughtsfromlayla · 3 months ago

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Chapter Five - Ostensible

Summary: Truth comes to light between the hushed whispers of destined lovers. Friends emerge in the oddest of places and flowers bloom in place of words.

Notes: ~9k words, holy fuck. Sorry this took so long, I realized that it's been literal months since I updated this story.

Warnings/Tags: Gault's funeral, Reader is slapping bitches as they should.

Tag list is open, just let me know :)

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Ostensible (adj.) - stated or appearing to be true, but not necessarily so

Morpheus brings you to his chest as your scream turns into buzzing breaths and you’re trying to gulp down your unrelenting fear. You push against his hold weakly, the fabric of his jacket seemingly too rough against your inflamed skin.

“How—how could you do—do that?” You scream at him through hiccups. You feel your eyes start to sting as the prickling tears start to emerge from your eyes. “I trusted you… I trusted you!”

“I fought justice with justice,” your husband answers simply.

His response angers you in return. What is his definition of justice if he killed a person without reason? Without fair trial? You look at him with a hardening frown.

“No, kings fight with honor and that was not honorable. You answered justice with injustice,” you accuse, hands on his chest to give yourself more room. The tears have caked themselves on your cheeks, drying and pinching the skin beneath.

“It is as I make of it, I will not hear it!” Morpheus growls down at you, his hands gripping harder around your arms, squeezing as he screams his excuse.

Smack!

The stinging of your fingers meets the night air, the imprint of your hand swelling on Morpheus’ left cheek. His eyes are wide as it takes him a moment to realize you have struck him. When his eyes finally meet yours, he finds not the eyes of the woman he knew.

Morpheus sees anger, resentment, and hatred in your eyes. Your lips downturned with no regret of the action you just did. His jaw hangs open, the hit stunning him.

Matthew winces at the slap, having before been on the receiving end of it⎼even if it was under different circumstances. He and Jessamy turn around to give the two—should he call them lovers?—some privacy. The young knight follows Jessamy’s new fascination with toeing the loose garden path. This path sure is made out of path tonight… Matthew thinks to himself as he draws a pattern.

“Do not dare to touch me. Not now, not ever.” Your glare only softens when Morpheus lets you go, his fingers seemingly snapping open after realizing his grip on you.

“Forgive me,” Morpheus whispers, his head dipping in embarrassment.

A similar apology sits heavy on your tongue for striking him, but flashbacks of how you got into this situation play in your mind. Your teeth clamp over your tongue until you taste the iron of blood.

With a deep breath, you ask a question you’re not sure you’ll get an answer to. “Why are you so angry?”

The question shakes through his core, the words ringing in unfamiliar territory.

“I… I don’t know,” Morpheus answers slowly after a few quiet moments.

The crickets chirping fill in the growing silence as you take in his answer. With a sigh, you leave against the betterment of your judgment towards the scene of the crime.

You don’t have to look to know that Morpheus was trailing behind you. The ever-familiar sound of armor from Matthew and Jessamy follows as well.

You stop early, seeing the laying stump that is the recently passed Rodrick Burgess. In all of his past glory, real or not, here he laid for his crimes.

Morpheus follows your eye line, squinting in the dim light of the eclipse until they widen in realization. He jogs over, and this time you’re following him with heavy and dragging footsteps. Your heart rate picks up once more and though you know he is dead for good, a primal part of you still fears he may come back to life.

You can still feel Burgess’ scrutinizing gaze upon you and how his hands so easily wrapped themselves around your neck. The lack of power you had in the situation as your breath was taken from you, as your nails did nothing against his armor. Your hand reaches towards where he laid his hands on you and you wince as you touch the blooming bruise.

Morpheus crouches down to the body, placing the back of his hand to Burgess’ nose, and only stands back up when he concludes that he isn’t breathing anymore. He turns to you with a forlorn look on his face and his mouth agape with words that he tries to push out.

“Forgive me, for doubting you,” Morpheus manages to squeeze out eventually.

You turn your head away from him, staring off into the distance as his apology only skims across your ears. Morpheus’ eyes drift down towards your neck, guilt eating him alive as he sees the distinct bruise that encircled you like a noose.

A straying hiccup is fighting its way past your throat as you hear him coming closer to you. The air is thick with tension and a wedge grows between you like the weeds that sprout between the cracks of your garden path. Even if you try to stamp them out, they will grow back because both of you are too prideful to work together.

Your eyes retrace the dead body once again, the low light doing well to hide most of the gruesome aftereffect of Gaunt’s actions. But the smell, it permeates through the night wind and reaches your nostrils, making you sick to your stomach.

You’ve never even stepped in the kitchen when your father brought in fresh geese from his hunting trips; how do you deal with a person? The smell of death is so distinct. You turn away, the nauseating feeling of acid once again building up in your throat.

“Please,” Morpheus calls out to you, grabbing onto the fluff of your dress.

You turn quickly, feeling the seams ripping at the force of it. Your eyes widen as you see the great King Morpheus on his knees before you. His lithe fingers still grip your dress, the blood that had besmirched his hands transferring onto the silk and tulle.

“Gods, what are you doing!” You curse, dropping to your knees with him.

The grass pricks at your skin but you pay it no mind, grabbing onto Morpheus’ elbows to bring him up. He doesn’t go easy, because when has he ever? He’s just as stubborn as you are.

“I am sorry, please, I am sorry,” He apologizes into your gown, head low and almost bowing on his knees.

“Please, get up, Morpheus,” You whisper, grabbing at his elbows again and lifting him to stand with you.

His nose and eyes are blushed red as he holds back tears and he dips his head into your neck to hide himself. He hovers just above your neck, not quite touching your skin but you can feel his shaky breath along the curve of your neck. His hands are fisted at his side as he punishes himself mentally for what he has done to you.

Despite everything, despite your pride, despite your differences, your hands wrap themselves around his head, shielding him as he trembles like a lost boy in your arms. You feel no tears hit your shoulders and it’s a sad realization indeed when you’ve concluded that, even now, Morpheus won’t let his image crack in front of others.

Under judgment of the Celestial Lovers, the two of you remain like that for a few minutes. Silence, for once, was welcomed between the two of you. Morpheus’ breath slows down to match your speed and calms himself.

He is the first to pull away and he doesn’t look in your eyes after. It is a subtle action that you did notice and should you not have such a caring heart as you do, one you would’ve ignored. But, you can’t and so your heart lurches out to comfort him even when your mind is pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Where did we go wrong, Y/N?” Morpheus sighs defeatedly.

“We never ‘went wrong’, Morpheus,” you say after a few seconds with a sigh of your own. You think back to the first day you met him, the day of your wedding, to the whispered confessions he proclaimed to someone else. “We were doomed from the start…”

“Will you let us try?”

After all of this time? After months of neglect and loneliness? How could you possibly believe that Morpheus wants to start a relationship with you now? All of his past actions have contradicted everything that has led up to this moment. His question strikes a chord with you, and yet—

“Tell me, my lord.” You swallow your fear, gripping onto the dark cape Morpheus had draped over you previously. “Tell me of the conversation you shared with your beloved Calliope tonight and I will think about it.”

A small frown etches on Morpheus’ face. “Calliope is not my beloved,” he says first and foremost. “But, I told her that she was right after all, that we were simply not meant to be. That I do love you, it just took me a while to realize the feeling.”

“Why do I not believe you, Morpheus?” The confession was sweet, but he has yet to do anything to prove his words. “Words are not actions, and I cannot in good faith believe a single thing you have said to me tonight.”

This time, it is you who looks away. You must steel your heart away, you cannot let it get hurt again. Even now as it beats erratically in your chest, it feels like his fingers are gripping themselves around the muscle. Your fingers tremble as they continue to grip onto the cape.

“Jessamy, let us depart.” Morpheus finally says, clearing his throat and walking away, his footsteps silent compared to your beating heart.

Morpheus plays with his bracelet, pulling at it as it grows tauter against his wrist in retaliation. It sears into his skin, leaving a new reddening bruise. Your own mimics its partner, twisting and tightening in on itself, but you had long gotten used to the pain.

“Take me back to my room, Matthew,” you eventually say when Morpheus’ figure is no longer seen.

You lead the way, having long since memorized the outline of the castle gardens. Your company is that of night critters as they also enjoy the early night. Fireflies dance in the air in pairs as they celebrate the yearly union. The further you walk, the more dilute the smell of death becomes. Soon you are back to smelling the subtle hints of jasmines and evening primroses as they blossom in the night.

Blind by thoughts, you walk straight into another body, a small grunt leaving your lips. Matthew is there by your side to steady you before you even recognize what is happening.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Calliope’s infamous voice comes through the night.

“All is well,” you say, too tired to bring out the other negative emotions that usually show with her mention: jealousy, rage, resentment… No matter, not tonight. You grip onto Morpheus’ cape tighter as you make your way past her.

“Wait,” Calliope calls out. In a moment without thought, her hands reach out for yours, gently grabbing themselves over your cold digits.

“Hands off the Queen!” Matthew announces loudly in your ear. His nerves are on edge from all of the events that have occurred so far tonight.

“No, Matthew, it is quite all right.” You push the knight away with the back of your hand and a ringing of his voice in your ears.

“I simply want to say that I wish you the best of luck. Morpheus is very, shall we say… shy, about his actions. If he has not told you, we are not lovers. I stopped seeing him the day before your wedding. I just want you to know,” she rambles and you could never see it in her to do so. Yet, here she is, rambling, afraid that you would go back on your word and never speak to her again.

“I know, Calliope,” you sigh, holding her hand in your own. “I was angry and in denial with myself when I heard those words he whispered to you on that balcony.”

“You heard that?” Calliope gasps with wide eyes. She pulls herself closer to you and her presence feels like an old friend. “I am so—”

“I do not need any more apologies tonight, though I am thankful for your honesty. It is time to look toward the future on a more positive note. I would be honored to call you a friend, if you can forgive my own actions against you.”

“I never held that against you, Your Majesty. Being friends, it would be a dream come true.” Her hands squeeze yours like a small hug.

“You are too kind, my lady,” you say with a smile—a real, genuine smile.

A new flower blooms that night in your garden. From the blood of your spilled enemy and the promise of your first friend within castle walls, a hybrid between forget-me-nots and lilies emerges from the late summer grass.

Agnes greets you as soon as you step into your door. Her worry and fussing as she scans your tired face and bloody ripped dress is a contrast to her normally calm facade. She’s dragging you on your tired feet and undressing you head to toe before shoving you into an already prepared bathtub.

“Honestly, do people have no sense of decency anymore!” She mutters to herself as she frolics throughout the bathroom grabbing at this and that.

Agnes began throwing different creams and petals into the water, you might as well have been stew she was cooking. The water turns milky and orange like the summer firefruits the servants used to freeze for you to eat.

You stay quiet as she begins to scrub your body down with a new sponge, the familiar roughness of it calming in an odd way. Agnes is still muttering to herself as she does so, making sure to get through every nook and cranny she can.

The water is almost boiling hot, something that you would normally condemn but tonight you welcome it. It burns and washes away the sins and tragedies of tonight.

You’re nothing but a lump of flesh at her mercy as she suds your hair, her nails breaking apart dry blood and turning the soap brown. Her face is still tense, eyebrows furrowing as she washes away the sins of the past.

Iron permeates the air and the nauseating smell of death comes back like a disease on the horizon.

“Agnes, what is your opinion on the King?” You ask, half to distract yourself and half to learn more about him.

Would it be too late to learn more about your husband? Perhaps, it has been several months since you've sworn to each other for eternity. But, tonight an abundant amount of new information has come forth. Some were just speculation and some were outright facts.

“King Morpheus has always done right by us, Your Majesty,” Agnes states honestly.

“Us?” You probe.

“Yes, my late husband left us out to dry and I don’t make near enough for our son. King Morpheus is paying for his education and lets me sleep in the palace as long as I work under him. And to keep you safe of course, Your Majesty,” Agnes further explains.

She globs on a different type of cream into your hair and the air starts to smell like fresh fruit instead of dried blood. The image of Morpheus starts to shift as you imagine him through Agnes’ eyes. What was once dark turns lighter in your mind.

You suppose he isn’t a terrible husband, just a neglectful one. He lets you do as you please: tearing away at his gardens for your own sanctuary, permitting you into the royal library, and letting you paint uninterrupted in the studio.

Was everything he confessed tonight true then? That his feelings for you have changed from resentment of forced marriage into love? It is hard to believe, there is no way a person’s feelings could change so fast.

For all of the good that he’s done, there is also the bad. Neglecting you is the most obvious answer, but he also failed to listen to your pleas for mercy and rejected you from his inner royal court. He has refused to let you serve your kingdom and share the burden of ruling as a monarch. And though you resolved the issue of his former love for Calliope yourself, would it have wounded him to tell you himself? Why? Why?

The never ending torment that is your own thoughts has you sulking deeper into the bathtub until the only thing above the water are your eyes and nose. Agnes dumps water over your head and your breath creates bubbles in the water.

You wish to stay in the warm waters for the rest of your life, like returning to the safe womb from which you were born. At least there, you wouldn’t have to deal with… well whatever this is.

“I am sure that His Majesty never meant to harm you,” Agnes starts again, taking your forlorn expression.

Too many times has she seen a lonely wife on this side of the universe. Though poorer herself, she is blessed to have been married for love and not arrangement. A lonely wife is always the first ingredient for disaster, followed closely by an angry wife.

“The King is one of few words, but his actions proceed him. He thought he was doing right by you, Your Grace.” She quickly continues.

You don’t bother with a response. Perhaps he did think he was doing the right thing. You can imagine what it must have looked like to him in the dim light. A weapon in the hands of an unknown soldier, kneeling over you while your face was still panic-stricken.

It, however, doesn’t ignore the fact that he proceeded to ignore your pleas, too focus on bringing you his version of “justice.”

You don’t see Morpheus for another week, the tension between the two of you has died down to a low simmer instead of the raging boil you left at. In your time, you’ve started to enjoy Calliope’s company more and more.

Oftentimes, the two of you share conversation within one of the several drawing rooms in the palace. Calliope brings lemons from her home kingdom of Boeotica that are hardly grown in the seaside soils of the Dreaming. And with lemons comes to fruition your new favorite dessert of tiny lemon cakes.

Calliope often thinks that you seek out her company each day of the week just so you have an excuse to eat the pastries and drink tea, though you would deny it. You do genuinely enjoy her company. Had you never overcome your diversities with each other, you would have never known how kind, witty, and graceful she is.

She never minds it. Calliope has missed her sisters dearly, and your company ebbs away at the homesick feeling she’s had since coming here as emissary. And between laughs and hushed whispers of shared stories does she come to find a sister in you as well.

Other times, you find that Calliope loves to take morning strolls through the open grounds within the castle. She loves the way the sun feels against her skin, warming her up in the mornings like the soil beneath her feet. Matthew accompanies the two of you while she listens to your rambles, your mind having far too many topics of conversation given your lack of friends within palace walls.

“How did you come into Morpheus’ care?” You ask one day on a familiar stroll in the palace gardens.

Calliope hums as she acknowledges your question. She thinks for a moment amidst the sound of mourning doves and fountains trickling. You wait with bated breath. Your jealousy of Calliope has long dissipated, but a part of you wishes to know how she managed to become so amicable with your husband.

“Morpheus and I grew up in the same circle, being royalty and all. It is not uncommon to say that we had our fair share of encounters while we were children. Did you know that he was quite the rambunctious one while he was young? He, Hob, and Lucienne were oftentimes found chasing each other through the halls with wooden swords and empty threats.

Morpheus got into a lot of trouble, he often came back to his nanny covered in bruises or dirt. His mother never appreciated it, thinking it was unsightly for a prince to look and act as he did. I first met him when my parents were visiting as guests and I had holed myself up in some library. He comes bargaining in to hide from Hob and Lucienne from some game they’ve made up.

We became friends through our love of literature and when Hob and Lucienne eventually found him, they nicknamed him the Prince of Stories. He hated it, of course, saying something about how it was not regal enough for him.

Eventually, he had to step into the throne. As you may know, his brother was in contact with the divine and thus became divine—and had to step down as the next king of the Dreaming. His eldest sister left to travel, though for reasons unknown to anyone outside of the royal family.” Calliopes goes on.

Her voice is light and smooth, perfect for reminiscing and storytelling. You find yourself smiling at this new found information about Morpheus. His more solemn and distinguished attitude is a stark contrast to his childhood.

“Do you still love him?” You ask hesitantly, finding distraction in the morning bees that collected the last few drops of autumn nectar.

“Yes,” Calliope replies honestly. “But as friends.” She nudges you with a knowing smile as she sees you deflate slightly.

“I see.”

“You need not worry. I believe our relationship was due to his wish for simpler times. Everyone had grown up, Lucienne filled in her role quite well as the royal advisor, her studies proven well. Hob married and inherited his father’s fortune and lands. And Morpheus took to the throne, you must imagine how that is for a boy who was never meant to take to it?” Calliope stops just before the colonnades that reentered the palace as she asks you the question.

“How do you feel, Calliope? Now that he has listened to you and stopped the relationship?” You inquire, a curious frown etched upon your face.

“As if he’s finally grown to be the man he is meant to be,” she answers with a soft smile.

With that answer, she leaves you, having other responsibilities to tend to. The fall chill comes down, kissing across your exposed shoulders and caressing through the loose strands of your hair. Your mind is muddled with thoughts as you watch Calliope’s figure recede.

On the seventh day, Calliope is nowhere to be seen and instead, you find Morpheus standing in the middle of the drawing room. You had just finished a new book that you wished to share with Calliope, but instead, you’re greeted with bouquet after bouquet of different flowers.

“Oh!” You exclaim, confused.

You tilt your body outside for a moment to make sure that you stepped into the correct room. Jessemy’s body seems to materialize out of thin air, and her quiet demeanor makes her a lot more difficult to sense. You even look to Matthew just to make sure, but he meets you with a shrug.

“Good morning,” Morpheus coughs out when you turn your attention back to him.

Matthew lets out an aggressive sneeze as the sickly sweet smell from the abundance of flowers reaches his nostrils. The armor-clad knight sneezes again and practically shoves you into the room so that he can close the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” he apologizes. Matthew’s muffled sneezes can still be heard on the other side.

A few seconds pass too fast, the atmosphere fills with awkward tension. You could hear the ringing in your ears and wish to crumble and hide within yourself.

“This is… a lot of flowers,” You state the obvious, scanning over the different colors and shapes.

“Yes,” Morpheus agrees, perhaps a little too quickly. “Lucienne said you might like a gesture, and I do not know what your favorite flowers are. I find that I do not know about you, at all.”

Morpheus watches closely as you trace the delicate petals of a yet to bloom dahlia with a soft smile. Dahlias are an incredibly romantic flower with the message being “forever thine” and he wonders if you knew that when selecting the flowers.

“I do like flowers,” you admit absentmindedly. “These are dahlias, an incredibly romantic flower, but not many know that they can be toxic, too. And these,” you practically skip over to another bouquet, “these chrysanthemums mean joy and optimism, and they can even make a soothing tea.”

Your eyes light up as you scan the room, taking in the different species and colors as you start to ramble about each one you like, naming their meanings and purposes. Morpheus listens intently, learning and smiling at the way you flitter around the room like an untamed pixie.

Your smile grows with each new flower you name and you turn to see him smiling back at you. The moment is lost, however, when you realize what he is trying to do.

“Wait,” you pause, leaving the flowers behind. “You thought that you would be forgiven after everything with just a few flowers?”

“I would not call this a few…” Morpheus laughs slightly and gestures towards the wall of flowers. “I want to get to know you.”

“That would have been a more appropriate conversation you should have shared with your wife on our wedding day,” you grit out.

The flowers are just a distraction. Morpheus may be a man of a few words, as Agnes has said, and you can see that he is trying in his own weird way. But it will take a lot more than some pretty flowers to gain your favor again.

“We are gathered here today to honor the recently passed Ser Gault, a noble soldier of the Dreaming whose bravery saved none other than the Queen’s life. As per King Morpheus, Ser Gault will be buried with the highest honor given within the kingdom.” The Reverend Destiny reads off of his old, leathered book.

You stand amongst the crowd of gathered attendees, the late autumn sun is just about to clip below the horizon. Through your black veil, you garner a small peek at your husband. Morpheus stands next to you, perfectly straight-postured as always and you’re having a hard time trying to read his emotions. Your eyes return to the wooden casket in the ground.

Six feet under, lies Gault. The very reason you are standing here today, alive and breathing, and yet she wasn’t. It’s been a couple of months since her death, the funeral had taken that long to carefully prepare.

Perhaps it is the black dress you wore or the cold and dry weather, but with every passing moment Destiny draws on, the harder it is to breathe. You feel as if your living body is going to freeze on the spot.

No one else spoke, you’re not even sure what the relationships between the attendees and Gault were. You did know that you felt out of place. Funerals should be surrounded by loved ones and you barely knew her past her name.

Even when everyone else leaves, having already given their prayers and flowers, you stay, feeling as if it was the best way to pay your respects. With each new layer of dirt the grave digger throws on top, you bury the guilt that weighed down your heart.

It could’ve been you.

It could have been you.

…

Should it have been you?

Morpheus’ presence brings you out of your thoughts and you find yourself blinking back tears. He’s twirling a singular white tulip between his fingers, contemplating something before he gives the flower to you. No words are exchanged as you hesitantly take the flower, but you understand him.

“Please forgive me,” He asks through the flower.

You take the flower from his hands, your fingers grazing his for a moment. The warmth is ever fleeting, and it’s missed as soon as you pull away. The tulip is light and delicate in your fingers, a simple push of your nail could snap the stem in half.

“I am still angry at you, Morpheus, and you are still not forgiven…. but this is a good start. You have always acted before you thought, and I’m not so sure anymore if it is a blessing or a curse,” You whisper to him.

The funeral staff have left, and the mound of dirt now rests, ready to be compacted down through time. You place the white tulip on the mound and walk away, giving Gault her first and last gift from you. The autumn chill creeps up quicker now that the sun has set and you briskly make your way back to the comforts of your suite.

Morpheus lets out a deep sigh, watching your receding figure merge with Matthew’s the further you walk away from him. His shoulder relaxes as he repeats your words on his lips.

“A good start…”

He returns with haste to the royal library and begins digging around the archives. He searches in candlelight desperately for a specific book he hasn’t read in a long, long, time.

“Looking for something in particular, my lord?” Lucienne’s voice calls out to him.

Morpheus looks down briefly from the ladder he clung to, the wrong book in his hands. He sighs as he slides the book back into its place, pushing on the old spine. The higher he went on the prongs, the stronger the books began to smell like his oldest brother.

“Language of flowers,” He admits defeatedly to his most trusted advisor.

“What ever do you need that for?” Lucienne asks, shocked to say the least.

“It seems to be the only way I can communicate with my wife.”

Lucienne raises a quizzical brow, probing him for further information without saying another word. Morpheus climbs back down the wooden ladder, candelabra in hand as he makes his way to her.

“Every time I try to explain myself, I simply make matters worse. Y/N has a kind love for flowers and seems to understand what I said during the funeral,” Morpheus explains.

Lucienne’s mouth opens in a silent “ah.” She knows exactly what he means, though she keeps the thoughts to herself. Looking past the already difficult past the two of you shared, Morpheus was hard to understand at his core.

He always came to conclusions within his own mind, only speaking the final verdict without letting anyone else in on his thoughts. At least with flowers, he can communicate in a way that you would understand.

Without another word, Lucienne disappears into the darkness of the library, knowing her way around the aisles as if it were the grooves in her own pointed ears. She comes back not a few moments later with the correct book in her arms, handing it over to her King.

Though, in the darkness of the night and the shadows cast by candlelight, Morpheus is basked in a type of vulnerability she hasn’t seen since they were children.

“For the Prince of Stories,” she jokes, a crooked smile dashing across her lips as she recalls the old joke.

Morpheus casts her a playful glare, thinking it had been too long for anyone to remember that nickname. But, he thanks her nonetheless and sits by a large window to catch up on some reading.

The moon rises higher in the sky, casting a blue hue over the worn and inked pages. His fingers trace across the drawings of different flowers and herbs alike as he pages through the book.

Jessamy remains by his side still as he makes his way to the palace gardens, muttering to himself as he tries to find the specific flowers he finds agreeable. By the time the moon reaches Her peak, Morpheus smells like fresh dirt and he interlaces the stems together into something more presentable, tying off the bouquet in some twine he found lying in a greenhouse.

He presents the finished bouquet to the only person around, who happens to be Jessamy. Ever silent, Jessamy only shrugs, her armored shoulder pads falling as soon as they rise.

Not exactly the greatest boost of confidence, but it was better than Jessamy ripping it to shreds, he supposed. He leaves the bouquet in the servant’s quarters with a specific note that Agnes is to send the flowers to you.

You wake up to a very excited Agnes shoving flowers ino your face. Sleep still clings to your eyelashes like glue and your frown only deepens when someone opens the heavy curtains of the room.

“What is going on,” you say sitting up, eyes blinking open.

Agnes shoves the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you poorly grab at.

“It’s from King Morpheus,” Agnes explains as she begins to prepare you for your day.

A brush runs through your hair as you push your sleep aside. You stare at the flowers, a bouquet made of blue salvias, hawthorns, myrtles, hyacinths, and marguerite daisies.

“The more I look at it… the bouquet is kinda ugly,” Agnes mutters from behind you, her brush stopping mid-stroke.

You don’t respond to Agnes but silently agree. Morpheus didn’t seem like the type of person to send something half-done and you rack your brain as you start to name off the meanings behind each flower he sent you.

Blue salvias… meaning “I think of you,” hawthorns which represents the term “I am hoping,” while myrtles means “love in a marriage.” Your cheeks flush as you decipher the hidden message in the flowers. The remaining two flowers, hyacinths and marguerite daisies, decipher “to play” and “I await you.”

“I’m thinking of you. I am hoping for love in our marriage. Come play with me, I await you.” The message reads.

Morpheus waits for you? Figuratively or literally? If it was literally, where in the vast palace grounds would he wait for you? You ponder over the message across breakfast with Calliope, her voice muffled as you silently chew on your fruit, debating if you should even accept the invitation.

At least he isn’t forcing your hand, it will be your decision whether or not you should meet with him. At first, you considered not going at all, but that darn bracelet from the Sister Fates kept twisting and tightening around your wrist until you couldn’t take the subtle pain anymore.

You spend the rest of your afternoon hunting him down. If he couldn’t specify where he would like to meet, then you would just have to revisit all of the locations in which you have interacted with him. That was the best you could come up with at the time.

The drawing room was the closest to you at the time, the flowers Morpheus had gotten you were disposed of and the room returned to its original cleanliness. It still smelled of flowers, but the scent was less intruding this time around. Still, your husband was nowhere to be found.

You head to the ballroom next. With the lack of whimsical effects from the eclipse, the ballroom was just like any other space within the castle. Though the open ceiling was still a beautiful touch, casting everything in natural sunlight. You spot Lucienne near the unmoving decorative thrones at the very front and you make your way to her.

“Lucienne,” you call out to her, quickening your step to catch up to her.

“My lady,” she greets, clasping her hands over the heavy book she was holding.

“Have you seen Morpheus?” You ask outright.

“No, Your Majesty. King Morpheus has cleared his entire schedule today, therefore I haven’t a clue to his whereabouts.”

“Hm, interesting,” you think aloud. Lucienne was your first and only hope of easily finding him.

“Forgive me for not being of much help,” the royal advisor apologizes, pushing her round glasses back into place.

“Do not fret. Thank you, Lucienne.” You acknowledge this before letting her continue with her daily responsibilities.

Next, you make your way to the royal library, where you find Mervyn dusting the table lights with a grumble. The brighter blue of his new denim overalls makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the brown books. The pumpkin-head man doesn’t bother to answer your question, shooing you away with a dirty glove as if your very presence was enough to annoy him.

You leave, tail tucked between your legs and a little offended as you make it to Hob’s studio. Opening the door greeted you with past emotions you’re not sure if you’ve processed. You haven’t been back in the studio since that eventful evening and no one has been in since, either.

Dry paint was still splattered across the walls and floors, broken canvases were strewn across the room. Dust sprites have made themselves a small home, covering every inch of the place in a fine layer of dust. Upon seeing your face, they get shy and fly out past your head, leaving you sneezing and still unable to find your husband.

“Wait out here, Matthew,” you instruct as you slowly make your way into the studio.

You run a finger across a shelf, collecting the dust on your finger and rolling the lint into a small tube. The brushes have dried, paint caked onto them as if frozen in time with the promise of something new. But you know, you know the brushes are destroyed—that no matter how much water and oil you soak them in can you return them to the state they were before.

Evening came quicker now that it was autumn, beginning to cast the studio in a warm yellow light and illuminating the dust. You let out another sigh, relaxing your posture in the solitude of the broken room. To think that it was autumn already…

The window unlocks with a click and you open the glass panes to let the dust fly out. You enjoy the chill that ran down your shoulders as you lean out the window to escape the stuffiness of the room. The blissful solace was interrupted by a rustling below you.

In the colorful flowers of the gardens below you, you see Morpheus and Jessamy, their black colors displaced amongst the lively backdrop. Morpheus paces back and forth along the cobblestone path, looking towards the entrance below you before returning to his pacing.

Had he been there this whole time? You step away from the window, wishing to keep yourself hidden as you too begin to pace back and forth. This whole day was spent looking for him but now that you found him, you’re not sure if you want to see him.

Yes, you should see him, give him a piece of your mind.

No, you shouldn’t see him, let him suffer in his silence.

Yes, you should go to him, you can see his efforts in trying to reprimand his mistakes!

No, did you forget he refuses to let you do anything in the castle?

He lets you do a lot, all things considered.

“Oh, be quiet,” You scold yourself as your mind races.

Your feet move you out of the studio and out of the royal library all the while your mind still plays tug of war between yes’s and no’s. Soon you’re flying down the winding stairs that lead down to the gardens, your heart pounding and your breath shaky.

No, what if he hurts you again? And your hand pauses on the door handle.

But what if… Oh, gods above! Shut up!

You push the door open, the sun blinding and the air fresh against your flushed face. It’s too late to turn back now. Morpheus’ head snaps up at the sound of the door banging open, standing to his feet even though he had just sat back down. He stares, wide-eyed and unblinking at you. As if afraid that if he does, it would have all been a figment of his imagination and you were nothing but an illusion of his wishes.

A beat of silence passes between you, even leaves don’t dare fall as if trying to avoid the tense atmosphere. It’s you who breaks it first for if it continued any longer, you would run back up those stairs again.

“Hello, Morpheus,” you greet and raise your hand in a wave and inwardly cringe at how horrible this is and you should just turn around and hide in your room.

“Y/N,” Morpheus breathes out your name like a song.

“How long have you been waiting?” You ask, noting the amount of pacing he had been doing.

“Since dawn,” He responds honestly, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold air.

“Forgive me for keeping you, the flowers… they did not specify where,” you apologize quickly. He nods in understanding, there isn’t exactly a flower that means “meet me at the garden under the marble statue of the naked woman fountain.”

“No, I would’ve waited the night if necessary,” Morpheus assures and another beat of silence follows at his confession. “Would you like to promenade with me?”

You nod once, enough for Morpheus to close the gap between you and offer his arm. You hesitate for a moment but swallow it down as you wrap your fingers around his limb.

“Just this once,” you agree. The two of you begin to stroll through the expansive gardens, enjoying the weather and last of the sun’s rays.

“I would like to get to know you, if it pleases my wife,” he says suddenly amongst the sound of trickling water and birds chirping.

“What do you wish to know?” You respond. Morpheus pauses for a moment, not particularly expecting to have come this far in conversation—if he was going to be honest with himself.

“What is your most favorable season?” He asks.

“Spring,” you answer easily. “Though I keep that information close to my chest.”

Morpheus smiles at your little jab. Spring would explain your love of flowers, when they are most beautiful.

“Why do you enjoy dancing?” He inquires next.

“It is a physical form of music and music is beautiful but intangible,” you explain as best as you could, but the feeling is hard to put to words. “I’ve always danced when I’m happy and therefore have become happy when I dance.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“Not as much as I miss my harpsichord,” you joke, having gotten used to the freedom away from the scrutinizing gaze of your father and the constant lessons from your mother. “Tell me about your family.”

“What is there to learn? All events have been written on paper and bound in leather.” He lets out a deep chuckle at his own joke before pretending to clear his throat when you don’t laugh with him.

“Tell me about your sister, Teleute. Why is she not here?” You ask instead.

The night that Rodrick Burgess burst into the ballroom is still fresh in your mind. Something made him believe that Morpheus’ sister could bring back his dead son and Calliope mentioned something happened to Teleute but it is a heavily guarded secret.

“A royal family secret,” Morpheus confirms your suspicions. “Teleute almost died giving birth to her first child. Since that tragedy, she has been an oracle and foreseer of death itself, though we know not the reason why. Our parents sent her away in fear of their own deaths coming sooner.”

So, it was simply misinformation that Rodrick Burgess was fed. She could only predict when and how someone died, not bring them back from the dead. You suppose any loving parent would want to bring their child back, and even go to extreme lengths to achieve it.

“A cruel thing for parents to do to their daughter.” You frown as you realize that the former king and queen had banned her from her own home.

“Yes, but the last I’ve known of her, she is happier out there and not in here.”

“What of the rest of your siblings?”

“I have six in total.” Morpheus continues to indulge your curiosity. “You know of Reverend Destiny, I have a wild card of a brother who left the royal family and his titles for no known reasons, but I don’t blame him. There are the twins, who disagreed with my ascension to the throne and have declared themselves enemies of the Dreaming, but that is a discussion for another day.”

“That is only five siblings, what of the sixth?” You question as you mentally tallied up the number.

“My youngest sister passed in her sleep whilst fighting a fever dawning on her third birthday,” Morpheus reveals quietly, briefly reliving the past.

“My condolences, my lord.” You apologize quickly after for probing too far.

“Thank you, but it has been many years and the ache is healed.”

The two of you fall into another silence, following the cobblestone path beneath us. Mervyn had been doing a wonderful job in keeping the path clean, not a single blade was out of place and no insufferable weeds popped up.

Arm in hand, you and Morpheus descend further into the gardens where the bushes are overgrown and the flowers grow wildly over forgotten statues. A gazebo stood strong despite the strong cracks in its foundation and columns. A lone stone table with a game of black and white sits beneath its roof.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks as you two stop before the table.

“Chess?” You confirm his question, to which he nods. “Yes, I would dare say I am quite proficient.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, for I have never lost a game.” Morpheus grins as walks up the small steps of the marble gazebo.

“Consider your challenge accepted,” You say with a prideful glint, raising your chin high. “Which side do you prefer?”

“Ladies first, I insist.” Morpheus offers the side to the white side with his hand before taking a seat opposite of you.

The stone seat is cool beneath your legs, a calming temperature as the air crackles with both of your egos on the line. You watch as Morpheus realigns his pieces so they all face the same way. You wonder whether or not he was giving you the upper hand by giving you the side which will move first, but the more you think about it, the more you realize it is so he could see how you think.

White always moves first, it usually attacks and black defends—but chess is not just about capturing and winning, it is a game of logic and strategy. Both opponents show their skills in how they maneuver their pieces while manipulating their opponents. Your eyes meet his once again and all playful banter the two of you shared is gone.

The man in front of you now is no longer your husband. No, this is King Morpheus: calculating, patient, and intelligent.

As per the rules of the game, you move first and Morpheus watches intently. He sets his next piece out and the two of you play back and forth as the game slowly progresses. You watch Morpheus hover his fingers over his bishop in thought, his mind whirling with different scenarios.

“Do you play chess often?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a sword freshly sharpened off the whetstone.

“When I have the time,” He answers soon after.

“I see,” you hum in response and the silence continues.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Your voice cuts through the quiet of the game once again.

“Yes…” Morpheus draws out and you see his jaw tick in annoyance. Your soft smile and voice is starting to distract him and any plan he tries to come up with. He lets go of the knight, forgetting if that was really what he wanted to do or not.

“Very well,” you feign a sigh, a hint of mischief hidden in the message.

The quietness continues as the only sounds that accompany the game are the sounds of your laughter as you capture any of Morpheus pieces and the rising crickets.

Soon enough, the pieces are scattered across the black and white board as you enter the end game. Morpheus has a great deal of your pieces captured and you the same on your side. The game slows as both of you try to figure out the best course of action and reaction from each other.

You try your luck at distracting him again, though this time you ask a question that has been left unanswered for months.

“Have you ever thought back to my question from that night?” You ask even though it was your turn.

“Which one?”

“Why are you so angry, Morpheus?” You ask again, this time expecting an answer.

“Do you really think me so?” Morpheus retorts as the game turns over to him.

“Angry? No, not anymore. I think you are lonely,” you conclude as you watch his piece move across the chessboard.

The sun is beginning to set, much like the end of the game. Its final rays are casting everything in a deep orange and the night critters begin to warm their voices to sing.

“I am not lonely,” Morpheus scoffs at you. “I am constantly surrounded by people and even childhood friends.”

“And yet, you still lie.” You frown at his evasive answer. “I, too, am surrounded by friends and servants but at least I knew I was lonely.”

“It is my fault you had to feel such a way,” he apologizes again.

You shrug him off, the sound of his apologies now familiar in your ears and you no longer wish to hear them. You wish to hear the truth.

“For me, people held me at a distance because by law I am their queen and they cannot look past the title. Through time, I no longer blamed them for doing so. For you, however, why do you distance yourself from those around you emotionally?” You ask, wanting to dig deeper into his thoughts.

Morpheus seemed stunned at your new question, one that penetrated his very soul and held it out for him to see and reflect upon. When he thinks about how he has treated those around him, the answer comes out slowly but truthfully.

“I have built myself onto a pedestal of regality and control that no one can reach. But I realized that it was not constructed of marble but that of mud and sand from which if a single grain falls, I shall lose everything. I cannot be weak, I cannot let my subjects suffer as such.” Morpheus finally confesses.

He’s not sure who needed to hear it more, you or himself. Morpheus thinks himself as the only one with responsibility. And while it is true his are more grand and important than most, he believes it to be his and his alone. To push them onto others is a burden. Should he seek others for help, he cannot control the outcome no matter how satisfied or failed it may be.

“Only a weak king would deny their weakness and faults. You are good, Morpheus. Fall if you so shall decide to, and you will find that I will be there to catch you. You are not alone anymore.” You smile at him, one he wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Your smile only widens as you move your queen and it’s soon realized to both of you that you had finally cornered his king.

Checkmate.

His king has nowhere else to run and your standing, victorious queen blocks his path. Morpheus frowns as he tries to find a way to continue playing, but no matter what he plans, nothing comes to fruition.

“I surrender,” He sighs as he goes to knock his piece over. He had fully fallen to your distractions and whims.

The ceramic piece topples over and bounces against the marble game board, rolling around slowly as it accepts its defeat. You glance from your seat across from him and notice the tick of his jaw as he loses his first game of chess.

“Perhaps ‘I surrender’ is not the correct course of action here,” You say after a deep breath.

You reach for the small black chess piece and examine it closely between pinched fingers. The detailing is well done, and the craftsmanship comes from the hands of an expert. You place the ebony piece next to your queen of ivory, the two pieces standing together amidst a gameboard of fallen pawns, knights, and bishops.

“Marriage is a partnership. I do not want you to surrender to me and in return neither will I to you. I simply ask for us to be equals.” You stare at Morpheus with a hopeful look.

Morpheus glaces between you and the chess pieces and finally gives you a small smile. You are too good for him and he promises himself that he will spend the rest of his life making sure he is the husband you deserve.

“As you wish, my queen.”

Dusk settles and takes your combined sorrows with it. Tomorrow a new dawn will rise with the promise of hope.

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God, finally they made up. Only took them fucking what? 35k words? Medium slow burn fr

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @dennixlovezelda @commanderfreethatdust @herfantasyworldd

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #destined dreams of love #dream the endless x reader #the sandman dream #dream the endless #x reader #morpheus x reader smut

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

Text

lor

lor [loɾ] adj. beautiful, pleasant to the senses

Anonymous Request: Can I request a Neteyam x fem!metkayina reader, where Neteyam is just really smitten by her beauty, and how gentle she is when she helps patch Neteyam after the fight? Neteyam really curious about her and really wants know her better, so he starts asking Tsireya about her and after that he realizes that she has an older brother, so Neteyam tries to talk to her older brother, but her brother is really protective?

1,607 words

The first time he saw her, it felt similar to the first time that he looked in the eyes of his ikran. Something just clicked inside of him, and Neteyam knew - this woman was something important to him.

He couldn't explain it any better than that. He wondered if he was being superficial, because of course, he was struck by her unusual beauty, but it felt like something more than that. It was hard to put it into words.

His interactions with her were few, and he was nervous during them, until the fight. Though he'd considered himself and Lo'ak to be victorious over Ao'nung and his friends - and rightfully so, since those idiots shouldn't have been messing with Kiri anyway - he was still a little battered and bruised, and his split lip hurt something fierce.

She was there to intercept him, on his way home. He didn't see where she came from, it was as if she materialized when she needed him.

"Neteyam!" she exclaimed.

"Y/N," he replied, feeling ashamed about his appearance and about the fight. A gentle woman like Y/N would not approve, he knew.

"Let me see." She approached, taking his face into her hands, turning it side to side. She did the same to Lo'ak, tsk'ing under her breath.

"Foolish boys," she chided, but there was a light, teasing air to her words. From the pack slung at her side, she pulled out a cloth and sprinkled something into it, and placed it to his swollen lips. It stung at first, and he winced, but soon, the soothing came. "Tell me, did you win the fight?"

Neteyam wanted to smile, but knew it would hurt. "The other guys look worse."

She turned her attention to a cut on Lo'ak's face next, smiling at his brother. Neteyam couldn't help but feel jealous when he saw.

"Good, very good," she replied, and turned to Neteyam, winking.

He walked on clouds the rest of the way home, not even that upset when his parents yelled at him.

The next day, Neteyam approached Tsireya with questions about Y/N. What was she interested in, what was she good at, where did she spend her time?

Through this questioning, Neteyam learned she had an older brother, and from there, devised a plan. If he could befriend her brother, Eto, maybe he could get closer to her. Earning her older brother's respect and approval couldn't hurt, could it?

He asked Tsireya about Eto, and she frowned.

"He's very protective of Y/N, Neteyam. I don't know... about this plan."

Neteyam pressed for more information, but all Tsireya would say was that Eto was very watchful of his younger sister, and Neteyam had better be careful.

He felt like he understood, older brother to older brother, so when the opportunity arose on the fishing grounds, he approached Eto. He had to admit, he was a little put off by the man's sheer size and stature, not to meant the intricate tattoos covering most of his body, but he took a deep breath, and thought of Y/N.

Neteyam was a great fisherman, and he thought that would be an easy avenue for conversation - but he was wrong. Eto had maybe two or three words to say to him.

So he switched tactics - asking about his family, and Eto had very little to say about that, as well.

Finally, Neteyam decided to bring Y/N up directly.

"Is she to be a healer?" he asked.

Eto raised his eyebrow, finally looking over at Neteyam after so much painful conversation.

"Why do you ask?"

A chill went up Neteyam's spine, but he tried to stand up taller. After all, he was just as much a man as Eto, and the son of Taruk Makto. He needed to act like it.

"The other night, I was injured - my brother too. She tended to our wounds."

Eto nodded.

"She has a special interest in healing. She's good at it. You're lucky she was there."

That was as far as the conversation was going to go, Neteyam could tell. He bid the brother farewell, and turned to leave, deciding he'd have to figure something else out.

From the shore, I sat with my feet in the water, digging little holes in the white sand, as Neteyam spoke with Eto.

I wondered what the two of them would have in common. I didn't know Neteyam very well, but from what I'd seen, he was joyful and kind.

While Eto was kind, it was a little bit hard to see through his rough exterior. He prided himself on being strong, silent and resilient; kindness and laughter weren't priorities for him.

After a while, Neteyam turned and began walking towards the beach, but he didn't seem to see me.

I badly wanted him to see me. I had been wanting Neteyam to really notice me since the moment we'd met, but he always seemed to be so busy, rushing somewhere else whenever we got the chance to speak. The other night after his fight with Ao'nung was the most we'd really spoken.

Jumping up, I called his name and waved my arm. He turned, and gave me a beautiful smile.

"What were you talking to Eto about?" I asked, jogging to catch up with him.

Neteyam shrugged. "Fishing."

I furrowed my brow. Eto hated fishing. "Oh. You look healed up very nicely." I gestured to his lip.

He touched it, and smiled at me. "Thanks to you. I'm glad you were there."

"What was the fight about?"

"Ao'nung and his friends, they were picking on Kiri, calling her a freak... I didn't want to get into a fight but, Lo'ak kind of jumped into it. I didn't want to see his ass kicked."

I tried not to laugh too hard. "Well, you're a goo brother."

"He doesn't make it easy."

I glanced over at Eto, who was staring at us now. I reached out, extending my hand to Neteyam.

"Come," I said. He took my hand without hesitation, and I pulled him into the water until it was deep enough for us to swim, and we disappeared under the tide, away from Eto's watchful gaze.

Neteyam swam next to me through the plants and fish, and when it had been a while and he needed to surface, I went with him. We faced each other, treading water.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Oh!" I replied with a laugh. "No where special. Eto was just watching us and, he can be kind of... a lot."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"You did?"

Neteyam gave me a half smile. "Well, I... I was asking him about you and, he didn't have much to say."

I raised my eyebrow. "Oh? Why were you asking him?"

Neteyam looked away, a lavender blush creeping across his cheeks.

"You can ask me, Neteyam. I know me pretty well."

He turned back to me, smiling. "Do you want to be a healer?"

"Yes," I replied. "Well, I kind of am, already. Ronal has taught me a lot... but, since I'm not going to marry Ao'nung, I won't be our next tsahik. But, tsahik needs help from other healers. That will be my job. Is that all you wanted to know?"

Neteyam looked nervous, like he was holding something back.

"Can I ask you something, Neteyam?" I said, filling the gap.

"Sure."

"Are you happy here?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Yes... and no. I like it here. It isn't home. Why do you ask?"

"You always seem so... I don't know, nervous or something, when we talked. I wondered if you just missed home."

Surprisingly, a smile breaks out, wide enough to stretch nearly ear to ear. For the 100th time, I admire what a beautiful smile Neteyam possess. It fills me with pride, to be the one making him smile like that.

"I do feel nervous when we talk," he admits finally.

"You do?"

"Yes. But, just you, Y/N."

"Oh no," I reply. The water is growing a little choppy as twilight approaches, but neither of us notice, as we talk and tread water. "Did I do something, to make you nervous? Did I offend you?"

"No!" Neteyam says forcefully. "No. You're just, um... you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And when I talk to you, my heart beats very fast and my brain goes kind of... crazy."

It takes me a moment to process what Neteyam is saying. All this time, while I have been longing to grow closer to him, he has been feeling something similar?

"Oh," I reply.

"I thought, if I could talk to Eto, gain his respect and confidence... it might help me grow closer to you."

I can't help but smile at this. "I think maybe the best way to grow closer to me is just, um, to spend time with me. If you want to."

He swims forward, closing the already small gap between us. "I want to."

I reach out, putting my hands on his shoulders. As he leans in to kiss me, he wraps his arms around my waist. Our lips meet, and we stop treading water, and sink beneath the surface, holding each other in a tight embrace.

It's heaven.

When we surface again, gasping for air, all we can do is smile at each other before swimming to shore and walking up the beach.

"You will probably still have to earn Eto's respect but, it's not as hard as he'd like you to think. He's soft, inside."

Neteyam reaches over, grabbing my hand. "For you, anything."

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar twow #avatar 2

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itsnotbird · 2 months ago

Text

Orphic ~ File 1

Orphic (adj.); mysterious and entrancing beyond ordinary understanding

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Non-Canon

Summary: The last thing he needs is for his mundane life to get more complicated when something- you -seemingly fall out of the sky and change everything.

Warning: Grumpy Bucky, language, talks of powers

“You need to start putting yourself out there.”

She had no clue what she was talking about. Weeks and weeks of going to sessions and Bucky was still convinced that Dr. Raynor was crazy.

He disects her former statement, like he’s done ever since she said it, and he makes his way down the street.

Usually, he’d be on his way to his apartment, the one that he moved in to after he started this whole ‘healing journey’ thing. Dr. Raynor suggested it, she suggests everything in his life now it seems. And because he is mandated to attend the therapy sessions, he does the bare minimum just to please her. That’s why he has an almost empty apartment, away from the upstate Avengers compound. Tonight though, he has someone to meet up with.

In the sushi bar, he greets the old man that has become somewhat of a friend to him. Yori orders the same thing he always does, then asks Bucky if he’s ever going to ask the pretty waitress out or if he’s still scared.

Bucky sighs. “Always so hard on me.” He jokes.

The man chuckles. “You’re wasting time, you’ll understand when you get old like me.”

Bucky smiles. “Technically, I’m older than you but that’s a different conversation.”

And the two bicker back and forth in a light hearted manner until Bucky pays for the meal and they leave the restaurant.

“I’m taking the long way back.” Bucky says to the man. “You alright to get home?”

Yori grumbles and waves him off. “Don’t worry about me.” He says, complaining that Bucky was over bearing.

Chuckling to himself, Bucky cuts down an alley and takes the long way back to his apartment. Fresh rain starts to hit the pavement so he tends to stick to the sidewalk that is covered by awnings. The mist gets caught in the street lights, making everything have a certain glow. There’s only a bit of chatter from shop owners closing up, but it’s rather deserted as he goes.

In his pocket, his phone rings. He knows it’s Steve, he chooses to ignore it as he gets caught in his thoughts. In truth, he’s been avoiding everyone’s calls. If his shrink knew, she’d scold him and tell him he’s self sabotaging again. That’s why he doesn’t tell her.

The rain comes down harder now, it hits the black street and splashes onto his boots that lay against the sidewalk.

Some sort of eery feeling chills his spine. Looking over his shoulder, he scans the buildings around him, looks at windows and in the air. Continuing to walk as he searches for potential threats, he turns the corner.

His gaze flicks down.

Feet away from him, there’s a shape in the street.

It isn’t fully illuminated, just a collapsed form.

He proceeds further with caution until he can make out what his eyes see.

You lay there on your side, soaked to the bone.

“Shit.” He exclaims, rushing into the heavy drizzle.

There’s no one around, no cars, no sign of why you’re there. On his knees now, he rolls your limp form over, laying you on your back.

“Can you hear me? Wake up.” He gently shakes you.

Scanning your body for any visible injuries, he finds none. His two fingers pressed to your neck, he feels the very faint thump of your pulse.

More panicked now, he calls out, trying to get your eyes to snap open.

Were you hit by a car?

Did you have internal injuries?

He gently cradles the back of your head with one hand, and the other peels an eyelid open, hoping to check how dilated your pupils are. Your thick lashes separate, what greets him isn’t a sign of a concussion, it’s the bright glow of blue, something abnormal that scares him.

“Jesus!” He gasps and pulls back swiftly, seeing the almost un-human eye looking at him.

Your eyes shut again, he picks up the arm that rested on your stomach and the bundle of veins in your wrist are the same strobing glow of blue.

This was something different than a pedestrian crisis.

He scans the area carefully once more, making sure there are no onlookers as he decides what to do next.

He should call an ambulance.

But this isn’t a civilian medical issue, it seems.

Gently, he scoops your frame into his arms.

Both completely drenched now, he carries you back to his dry apartment. The whole time, he’s cursing himself. This is going to be a mess, he just knew it would. Maybe he should drop you off in front of a fire department and leave it at that?

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, he manages to get you inside without raising any suspicion.

He lays you on the kitchen counter, not caring about the puddles of water the two of you have made on the floor.

The heels of his palms dig into his eyes and he groans.

This was so stupid.

So, so, stupid.

Looking down at the screen of his cellphone, he debates just who to call. Steve can’t keep a secret, Tony was a definite no.

Sam Wilson.

Bucky huffs, then places the call. Maybe he can just pin this issue onto him and move on with life? Yeah, that was a good idea.

He’s very vague when Sam answers.

“There’s something you need to see, it might be important.”

Sam groans. “Oh, great. I got scared you accidentally made me your booty call.” He says with dry sarcasm.

“A what?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“Nothing, the joke’s only funny if you’re competent.” Sam states. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

And just like that, Bucky’s left in silence.

He watches you with a cocked head, curious. You don’t move, your chest barely rises and falls as you take shallow breaths.

Once he’s sure you’re not going to move, he changed out of his soaked clothes and grabs a towel. Coming back to you, he cautiously dries your face, staring down at you, seeing if you flinch at all. Softly, he reaches for your hand that dangles off the counter.

As his fingers make contact with your palm, a jolt of what feels like electricity shoots through him. He teeth grit and he lets out a strangled shout, he can pin point every nerve that gets shot.

He jerks himself away, panting hard as he shakes for a moment.

“Well, you have a defense mechanism.” He says to you.

A knock comes from the door.

“I swear, don’t be wasting my time, Barnes.” Sam warns right as the door is opened, letting him into the space.

“Would you stop being a pain before I regret calling you?” Bucky snaps, shutting the door.

“Care to show me why you called me? I paused Law&Order for this shit.”

Pushing past the urge to make fun of him, Bucky just wordlessly points to the kitchen.

It takes entirely too long for Sam to go in and notice, but when he does, he isn’t calm about it.

“What the hell?!” He shouts. “Who is this?”

Bucky shrugs. “No clue.”

“No clue? Where’d you find her? Why is she here? …Did you kill her?”

He shoots Sam a sharp look. “No! I didn’t kill her, she’s alive, asshat. I found her in the street, unconscious.”

The man turns from your body to look at Bucky.

“So you just…kidnapped her? Didn’t call the authorities or anything, just took her?” He asks, face etched with disbelief.

Once again, Bucky shrugs. “Finders keepers.”

“Finders keepers!? Bucky you can’t just-”

Fed up with his talking, he strides forward, grabbing your relaxed wrist and showing the discovery to him.

“That look normal to you?” He ask with an angry tone. Sam pauses at the power running through your veins.

“Or this?” Bucky continues. He opens your eyes, revealing the strobe blue that glows wildly, masking your vision.

“…Okay that’s a little strange.” Sam admits, now curious. He scans you with his eyes. “Any idea where she came from?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No one was around, no cars or anything. It’s like she just appeared.”

Cautiously, he feels your pulse just like Bucky had done, then reaches for your hand out of some impulse to comfort.

“Hey don’t-”

Bucky’s words are stopped by the strangled groan that Sam lets rip from his throat. He drops your hand and hot power courses through him.

“I tried to tell you.” Bucky sighs.

As Sam tries to pull himself together, shaking his hands out. “Yeah, that’s not normal.”

“And this is why I called you.” Bucky says.

After a moment of processing, Sam speaks. “We have to take her into the compound.”

“Stark’s gonna be pissed if we bring a strange woman into the compound while everyone is asleep.” Bucky expresses, watching as Sam looks through his kitchen drawers.

“We need to figure out what’s wrong with her. The MedBay is where she needs to be.” He says, finding a pair of oven mitts that Bucky wasn’t aware he had.

Sam carefully slides them onto your hands, then grabs a roll of duct tape and tapes them securely around your wrists, assuring they don’t come off. He nods at his work, happy at his genius idea and then turns to Bucky with a smile. He motions to you with a ‘huh, you like?’ expression, expecting praise.

All he gets is a blank stare.

“Okay, super soldier, grab her and let’s go.” Sam says in a disappointed tone.

There was no reason to argue, so with a sigh, Bucky picks you up once more and lays you over his shoulder. Your wet hair hangs and sways as he leaves the apartment, following Sam to the parking garage where his car was. Like a rag doll, you’re easily laid in the back seat. Sam makes sure your feet aren’t caught as he shuts the door.

The ride over was mostly silent, and in the rearview mirror, Bucky stares at your limp frame.

“Which of the big three do you think she is?” Sam asks, breaking up the silence.

“The what?” Bucky finally looks away.

“You know, the big three. Androids, aliens and wizards…it’s what we always end up fighting.” He explains like it was just a common thing to say.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, I hate when you talk.”

Sam glares. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot I was just supposed to drive in awkward silence while there’s an unconscious girl in my backseat. You called me to help and I’m not allowed to ask questions?” He says with a raised tone, aggravating Bucky.

“Why ask me the questions? I don’t know what she is- something obviously serious enough to electrocute us.” He states, looking out the rainy window.

Sam grumbles. “She might be all three.” He says more to himself.

“How can she be an android and an alien?” Bucky questions.

“It’s possible!”

The two argue about the possibility, that’s before Sam hits his breaks at a red light and your body rolls off the seat and onto the floor. It makes a thud sound, causing them both to look back.

“Great, now you gave her head trauma.” Bucky throws his hands up.

- - - -

They thought that sneaking into the compound would be easy, given that they have unlimited clearance. But as they enter the silent environment, you still laid over Bucky’s shoulder, they space the fact that the entire compound is run by an AI who’s far too smart.

“Welcome, Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes.” FRIDAY greets as they sneak into the MedBay.

They jump at the voice.

“Should I wake Mr. Stark?” It asks, making them both protest and claim that wasn’t necessary.

Bucky lays you on the medical bed.

“It appears there is a guest without clearance to be in here, this is a serious security breach.” FRIDAY continues.

“No, we give her permission.” Sam says, going to strap you down, just in case.

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark can only give permission. I will wake him.”

“No! Don’t wake him.” Bucky grunts, wheeling a monitor over. “Do. Not. Wake. Him.”

The two of them do their best to hook you up to it, but eventually they get confused about wires and what goes where.

“We can’t clip it to her finger, she has mitts on for a reason.” Sam says, attaching wires to all the wrong places.

The MedBay doors slide open, making them jump away from you. An angry looking Tony walks in. Robe and slippers, he’s obviously been stirred moments before.

“I’m only going to ask you idiots this one time, so don’t waste your chance. Why is FRIDAY telling me there’s unauthorized personnel in my building?” He asks, stopping in his tracks as he sees you. Immediately, his face changes into one of confusion and curiosity, he approaches you with an almost unsure pace. His eyes soften, seeing your cold skin and wet clothes.

“Barnes, start talking.” He says, coming to undo all the mistakes that were previously done and correctly hooking you up to the machine.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He says, defensively.

“Because it usually is, now start talking.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! Welcome to part one of the series! Stick around for more.

File 2

~ Eve

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky #marvel #bucky x reader #the avengers #bucky barns x reader #james buchanan barnes #tony stark #sam wilson #captain america #steve rogers #the winter solider x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier

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sy3ra · 10 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lovestruck!

𖤐 description: love-struck/lovestruck (adj.) experiencing intense feelings of romantic love for someone; besotted or infatuated.

𖤐 ft. lovestruck/lovesick! satoru × yuji's sister! reader (fem)

𖤐 content: lovestruck/lovesick! satoru, fluff, sickeningly disgusting fluff, the gojo satoru falling in love, wholesome, feeding my delulu rn, cringe and cliche sorry, reader is described as very beautiful, almost angelic (the things lovestruck! satoru can see lol), reader is yuji's big sister here (obviously an au)

𖤐 author's note: my writing style is so inconsistent i'm so sorry, everything's just based on my mood lol & my grammar sucks. anyways i'm terribly down bad for a lovestruck satoru so, i'm bringing y'all with me. (p. s. reader is well versed in arts and crafts and runs a small business in australia)

(author from the future: heyy, since y'all agreed that i should post this piece of crap rotting in my drafts, so here it is! so sorry for the late post, i've been busy with school.)

masterlist | requests

reblogs are appreciated!

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"sensei, can we go to the airport?"

yuji suddenly asks, looking up at his teacher, who was seated beside him. "airport? why do we need to go there?" probed satoru. "my big sister's coming back from australia today. normally, she would only come back for vacation but...now that our grandpa has passed, i guess she just wanted to give me some support." yuji responded with a mellow smile at the thought of his big sis, he's missed her so much.

satoru pondered for a moment, before giving his student an accepting grin and a thumbs up. "i don't see why not! i mean if it's for my student of course i'll accept" he said, pearly whites showing as he stood up, which was soon followed by a gleeful yuji. "really? thank you, sensei!" yuji's smile widened, to which satoru returned with the same gleeful smile. seeing his students happy in this damned world was enough.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"so, what's your sister like?" satoru asked curiously, hands gripping the steering wheel as they drove to the airport. (unfortunately, he had to drive) yuji's eyes lit up at this, finding this the best opportunity to ramble about his big sister.

"she's the best sister anyone could ever possibly ask for, except her teasing, she still treats me like a kid even now.." yuji started, obviously passionate about his beloved big sister. "she's well versed in arts and crafts, and even she even opened up a small shop in australia!" she's talented, satoru thought, feeling the gleefulness of his student from the driver's seat. "she sounds impressive," he nodded with a smile, a pause following soon after. "is she pretty?" satoru felt bold at the moment, not sure why. maybe he was just curious, yes that's it, right?

"very! she's basically the female version of me, sensei!" yuji replied, to which satoru chuckled imagining a vague image of yuji's sister in his mind. "can't wait to meet her then!" satoru nodded with a cheeky smile as they got nearer to the airport.

the weather was surprisingly pleasant, the sun shining down from the large patch of blue sky, covered slightly by white fluffy cumulus clouds creating a breezy atmosphere that isn't cold but not too hot. the traffic wasn't too much of a bother as well, they got to the airport as quickly as they left the jujutsu technical high school.

the only predicament was, the airport is jam packed with people. yuji frantically searched for his big sister, since her plane had landed thirty minutes ago. even with satoru's height, it's still quite hard to look around properly, he didn't quite know what yuji's big sister looked like in person, yuji just described her to be a feminine version of him.

that is until he sees his student's eyes light up, rushing towards someone, almost pushing everyone that was in the way, engulfing a shorter girl with the same pink hair as yuji in a bear hug.

"you've grown so much, yuji! you're taller than me now!" the pink haired woman said, stepping back to look at her little brother (that's not so little anymore). satoru couldn't see her very well, unfortunately. "i missed you lots, nee-san! i brought sensei with me, come meet him!" yuji takes his sister's hand and leads her to satoru, who was somewhere at the entrance of the airport, leaning against the wall.

to say he was infatuated by her was an understatement, hell, he was enamoured by the woman who stood before him. she was short, her hair shone a strawberry pink like her brother's, her eyes, oh her eyes were beautiful, they shone like a pair of gems, and her smile, they were so bright and warm, almost like the gentle rays of the sun. she stood out from the rest of the crowd.

"hi! you must be yuji's sensei. i'm (____) itadori, his big sister. nice to meet you..uhm, sorry what was your name again?" you greeted with a smile, small dimples showing on each side of your cheek as you held out your hand for him to shake.

your voice snapped him out of his euphoria, it sounded so angelic, he wanted to hear your voice everyday. satoru's mind felt absent as he looked down at you, you were really more beautiful than he had imagined you to be.

"sensei?" yuji queried with concern, making satoru shake his head, that same charming and handsome smirk appearing on his face (he was nervous). "sorry sorry, nice to meet you too, miss (____). i'm satoru gojo." he held his hand out as well, meeting yours, his hand was larger than your hand, almost swallowing it whole.

you smiled as you shook hands with him, feeling a small electric spark when your skin came in contact with one another, though you paid no mind to it.

"yuji has told me all about you, mr. gojo! thank you kindly for taking care of my brother. How could I possibly repay your kindness?" you said with a slight bow, making satoru feel slightly embarrassed (for the first time ever). "no need, i was just doing my job as a teacher." replies satoru, clearing his throat. his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. hard. why was he so nervous in the presence of this woman who he just met? he was so used to flirting with other girls (despite being a virgin) but.. you. you made him nervous.

"oh I insist, mr. gojo!" you chuckled, lifting your head up, straightening your posture. yuji tugged at your sleeves, making you look at your little brother. "what is it, yuji?" you ask, tilting your head sideways. cute: satoru thought. "i'll go to the bathroom for a bit" yuji says quietly, earning a nod of acknowledgement from his sister. "sensei" yuji gives him a thumbs up before rushing to the nearby restrooms of the airport.

"well that was something" satoru laughs as he stands there, quite awkwardly now that he's left alone with you out of all people. you on the other hand, only laughed at his awkward response. "now, back to my statement: how can i repay you for taking care of my brother, mr. gojo?" you ask once again, you were stubborn like your brother, almost.

satoru comes up with an absurd idea in mind, he hesitates, this was going to be a bad idea. "your number," satoru responds, his throat becoming dry from the sheer nervousness he was feeling. "you can repay me by giving me your number, miss (____)." he continues, it was insane how he was able to keep his smirk up despite his palms beginning to sweat.

you were silent for a moment, your cheeks becoming rosy by each passing second. it wasn't always you encountered a man who was bold and smooth enough to ask for your number, and actually become successful at it. you chuckled as a response, your chuckle coming out as embarrassed instead of happily as originally intended. "really now?" you whisper, your index finger scratching your cheek lightly, before you came up with an idea.

you rummaged through your backpack, finding a thin black marker in one of its pockets. "that's a pretty bold move you got there, mr. gojo" you bite back a smile as you take his left hand and begins to write your number on his palm, you looked so adorable in his eyes, with your half-lidded gaze concentrated on writing the numbers on his skin, your visibly rosy cheeks, and your hair that was annoyingly in the way of letting him see your face in all its glory.

slowly, satoru lifts his free hand up to tuck a thick strand of your pink hair behind your ear, since it was in the way. a seemingly harmless action yet it made you divert your attention from his palm, to his face with slightly wide eyes, and suddenly, your gaze felt like a spotlight, it was as if you were looking at him like he was the only man in the world.

you clear your throat, stepping back to give him his space, and then put your black marker back in your bag, eyes studying the numbers that you wrote on his palm. "there" you say simply, with a small smile. satoru stands there, seemingly in a state of euphoria for a moment before shaking his head, cerulean blue eyes looking down at the black ink drawn on his skin through his blindfold. a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "now for some reason, i feel quite special to have a cute girl's number in my contact list. thank you, miss (____)." he responds, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin as he stuffs his left hand in his pocket, careful not to smudge the ink on his palm. after all this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

in return, you huff out a laugh. "(____)'s fine, mr. gojo." you chime in, your voice seemed so soft to him.

"i'm back!" yuji yells, catching the attention of the two adults as her runs back from the restrooms. "why don't we grab a meal? my treat" you say, smiling at the two boys, in which yuji returns with an excited nod. "i don't mind, but it will be my treat, i insist." satoru offered, "oh no need, mr. gojo. i insist." you reply,

"i insist, miss (____)"

"no, i insist, mr. gojo!"

"why don't we just divide the bill?" chimed yuji, making the two adults that stood in front of him think for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

"oh alright, that seems fair." you nod, looking up at satoru, the man nods as well. "then it's settled, let's go!" satoru grins excitedly, staring down at yuji and back to you.

"let's go! i'm starving!" yuji groans, taking the first step forward, and you smile at your younger brother, a sweet, nostalgic smile.

satoru swears to himself that he was going to win your heart, your soul, all of you. you were perfect from head to toe.

and he sure as hell isn't gonna let someone like you go.

— Mayven.

#mayven.ִ ࣪𖤐 #jjk series.𖥔 ݁ ˖#syera's ficsִ ࣪𖤐 #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk headcanons #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you

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