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notanactressyayy · 2 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . Natasha and you were the only 'constant' in each other's lives. poor you, to think you could get over her so easily.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — making out, g!p Natasha, guided masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, swearing, homesickness, fluff, reconciliation.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english isn't my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. been in love w Nat for a damn long time — i've been away for a while, but turns out i can't really live without her. i miss my red so much :(

Natasha Romanoff rarely had the chance to see the same face twice. She saw a lot of people throughout her life — as a spy, as a superhero, or simply as Natasha. The thing is: it was unlike she would return to a place she’s been before. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the run. Thus, she traveled around the whole world, and saw thousands, millions of different faces. Destiny made sure not to let her cross paths with the same individual again. It wasn’t only the diversity of people that she witnessed, though. This woman saw the world. She knew life’s ups and downs, and at some point in her life, she just got used to the idea that it would forever be like this: boring. Boring experiences, boring women, boring men, boring relationships. Nothing was ever exciting, thrilling. It felt like she was advanced in time, and the rest of the world wasn’t following her. This wasn’t a complete lie, she got her maturity at a very young age, which made her pay the price now, in adulthood.

For a spy, the most important thing is to learn not to be caught off guard. But it seemed like life was never on Natasha’s side. And this time — it felt good. Oh, it felt so good.

At first, she didn’t want to get high hopes. It would be just another temporary friendship to help her pass time, nothing more. However, you managed to surprise the red haired Avenger in the best way possible. When she decided to spare a little time of her life and get to know you more, it was really mind-blowing the side of herself she discovered. She never thought she could actually be.. giddy. Like a silly, hopeless romantic girl. That is what she became whenever it was time to see you. She got excited. Actually excited. She couldn’t see through you, read your emotions or body language, like she did with other people; It was a natural thing, sometimes she didn’t even mean to do that. But you, something within you, kept her at bay. Like you effortlessly turned Natasha into a normal woman. Somebody who could love. Somebody that wasn’t raised and enhanced to be a killer. Not that you went through anything like she did, but you weren’t naive. You showed her that people didn’t necessarily have to be traumatized to be aware of things, of reality, of the surroundings. And for her, you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world. Inside and out. She adored you.

Opening up was never easy. Revealing the broken parts of herself wasn’t like having a simple chat. But patience is a virtue and thankfully, you followed that say just fine. Little by little, the secrets came out. Most of the parts you already knew — it’s not like she wasn’t a worldwide known superhero. What you mostly had to acknowledge were her feelings, the point of view of the little girl who was experiencing it all, and becoming a strong woman, with built up walls around her heart. Doing that was no problem. Natasha couldn’t be more thankful.

She couldn’t be more infatuated. More in love.

She’d always remember that one day: in the bar with her team, and you — chattery, music, tons of drinks and laughter. Stolen glances. Stomach butterflies, wild. The moment Clint pulled Laura a little closer to himself, and Tony kissed Pepper’s cheek. How she used that as an excuse to pull you into her lap. Your breath getting labored. Eyelashes gently fluttering, to the point she could count them. Your gentle yet tight grip on her shoulders. Your goddamn eyes staring right into hers. And the part where everything would change: her own bodily reactions to all those little details about you. When you restlessly shifted on her lap, quietly gasping when something poked you through your dress. Eyes going wide at the bulge showing on her black jeans.

From that point on, you belonged to her.

Or so, she thought.

The sex was great, but she was in conflict — she couldn't tell if the only reason for it to be that enjoyable was because you were both tipsy, almost drunk, or if it was really meant to be that way. It felt right, yes, to have you in her arms like this — naked, piles of discarded clothes laying by her bed.. the sound of your quiet snoring as you cuddled into her. It was also a relief to her. To have someone care for her, desire her, after so long, after forever. The night had been amazing. She was a mature woman anyway, wasn't she? She could sort her feelings out without messing up everything.

Wrong. By the morning, everything would change.

You stared at her as she got up and got dressed again, eyes still a little blurry from sleep, eyebrows ceasing into a small confused frown. "You're not staying?" you'd ask, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, bringing up the sheets to cover your unclothed body. "Ugh, my head hurts like hell,"

"Got things to do." she simply answered, cradling the side of your face and kissing your forehead. You could swear the look on her face was.. apologetic. She tilted her head towards the nightstand, where some aspirin and water waited for you. "Take these. I'll text you later."

"Okay.." you mumble, disoriented. As she leaves, you reach out, shoving the aspirin in your mouth and downing the pills with water. Was there something you were missing? Because all you could remember was how good her hands felt on you, the way they wrapped around you neck while she—

You shook your head, lying down again, and closing her eyes. All the fun and pleasure you had been given from the previous night was slowly vanishing and being replaced by a feeling of uncertainty and confusion. Natasha was an enigmatic person, okay, but you thought you knew her better. She had no reason to leave you just like that, especially when she had already vented about all her past experiences, flaws and failures. Nah, it was probably nothing, you were overthinking. Perhaps she indeed had something important to take care of. You closed your eyes as fatigue took over, and slept for a little bit more.

Natasha went back to her apartment — one of her apartments, and for the whole day, her thoughts ran like crazy. Her emotions were all over the place. She had just fucked her best friend, the one person she felt comfortable and at ease with. She considered her feelings carefully; this.. dinamic, between you two, had not been platonic for a considerable amount of time. But not being platonic doens't necessarily means being romantic. It could either be love, or lust. What happened the day before was carnal, once the two of you were way too much in a drunken haze to actually feel anything.

And, like always, Natasha didn't want to think about falling in love. She felt scared just by thinking about this. It was a new territory, one she wasn't willing to deep dive in. So she took her phone and deeply sighed, opening her chat with you.

"Yesterday was fun. But I need some time. I don't think this can work. Hope you're doing okay. xx"

That text just completely shattered you.

You had no idea what you did wrong. It was not like Natasha was pushing you away forever — but while being with her, the only thought running through your mind was: I wanna be with her. I wanna explore this with her. And Natasha didn't give a single sign that she thought the opposite. You felt... disappointed. With yourself and her. For hoping.

Yeah, getting involved with an ex kgb Avenger killer spy probably wasn't the best idea.

You wouldn't simply forget everything you shared together, so the easiest way here not to create a big tension was.. being fake. The two of you weren't stupid, you were aware of the unspoken feelings going on. But what happened that night should not happen again. So your friendship was what prevailed. A friendship like the start. But obviously, with a few changes. Natasha and you didn't lose touch — on the contrary, you were closer than ever. You spoke and flirted (a lot), but with one small rule, a rule that you subconsciously added to this.. situationship. No feelings involved. It would be singularly that. Friends, some casual hookups, and nothing else.

It didn't last, because that's not what you both wished, longed for.

Little by little, this turned boring again. Not that you were the boring one and she just didn't realize this before. Far from that. The thing was: Natasha and you were supressing your feelings, consequently, supressing all the thrill, the delicious tension that hanged in the air whenever she, once again, crossed paths with you. The russian wanted nothing more than just grab you and kiss you hard, pour all the emotions that she kept bottled up throughout her life into the kiss. But unfortunately, she couldn't. She had a duty to fullfil, as someone born, destined to save the world.

And with all of this, you and her settled a distance. You with your previous and trivial life, and her, saving little girls from bad guys, and bringing down cats from tall trees. It was truly shocking: one day, you lived for Natasha Romanoff. She was your everything and everything you'd ever want. In a blink of an eye, it ended. You followed your paths, like two completely different people, with different purposes.

Right person, wrong time.

Fool her, to think she could get over you that easily. Poor you, to try and put that inside of your head as well.

Sometimes, when normally doing daily tasks, you would catch yourself thinking about her — when you were going to watch TV and put your legs on the coffee table, instead of simply sitting. It was an habit of hers. Or when eating something with peanut butter. It was her favourite late night snack. When it rained. She liked to watch the rain. With somebody else's hands on you. It wasn't right. It was never right to have somebody else touch you. You were constantly thinking about your life before things with her changed — the memories brought comfort, a sense of nostalgia.. at some point, you weren't living in the present anymore. Just faking. Faking your feelings. Pretending it was okay to let her go.

This woman ruined you for everything and everyone else.

Natasha could relate to that. In a life that could be resumed in one word: a 'whirlwind' of a life, and you were her only 'constant' among all of this... she couldn't bear this anymore.

So she made an important decision.

The decision was today.

Today: she'd take you out again, praying that, if not reconciliation, she wanted at least to say everything she had to say. Because if life taught her one thing, was to make choices that she wouldn't regret in the future. And it was damn right she would regret choosing not to meet you tonight.

Sitting in the stool of the bar, in a more secluded corned, her eyes followed your figure as you approached — purse hanging on your shoulder, dress exposing your back and a little bit of your waist, eyes so awfully soft and gentle as you looked at her. It wasn't fair. A pang of guilt hit her hard. Oh, she regretted letting that go. She wanted you to be mad at her. But you were not. She shakily rises to her feet to kiss your cheek as you stand in front of her, thankfully not stumbling. Your eyes lock again, already in a trance. Just like that other day.

"How are you doing?" you ask. Natasha could cry. She missed that voice everyday. "Did I take too long? I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't worry." she swallows hard. You both sit on the stools by the countertop. When the bartender comes, the redhead dismisses him. She wanted the two of you sober for this. "I'm... so much better now that you're here, honestly. How about you?"

"Amazing." you chuckle, tilting your head to the side and watching her. She didn't change a bit. Hair braided, black jeans, leather jacket. That was your Natasha. "I didn't expect you calling me here, to be honest..—"

"Me neither." she admits, in a whisper. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, eyes involuntarily starting at your mouth. She sighs and looks into your eyes. "But I had to... I can't get you off my mind."

Her sincerity never fails to amaze you. With each second that passes, the butterflies in your tummy return, to remind you of the past — feelings and sensations resurfacing. You bite on your bottom lip and look around the bar, quickly scanning to see if there was anybody paying attention to the two of you. Maybe a few eyes here and there, which didn't linger. Everyone else was too busy minding their own business — and it's not like you'd care if someone was staring anyway. Natasha turned some heads. You felt greedy for that. You were the one having her. The only one having her.

"You live in my head rent free, Natasha." you tell her, voice having a sultry edge to it. You slowly stand, walking closer.

You take her hands and open her arms — making it possible for you to straddle her thigh. She tenses almost immediately. Her head tilts up to stare into your eyes, arms circling your waist to keep you close, where she wanted. You shake your head when you see a small frown between her eyebrows — lips pressing against that small spot, coaxing a little exhale of hers. She missed you. Everyday. Every minute. She wanted that respect and care all the time.

"What are we even doing here?" she whispers, so quietly you almost can't hear it. Her hands cup your waist and gently roam up and down your sides, palms brushing against your bare skin every now and then, all thanks to the waist slits of your dress. Your face leans closer to hers, noses bumping — the smallest of touches, making you both crave what you once had. "Why didn't I just invite you to my place right away?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you?" you raise one eyebrow, fingertips caressing her jawline. Her hands give your waist a squeeze — and you almost moan. She swore she could hear it. It replayed in her head, the beautiful sounds you made for her. She wanted to hear them again. She was going to make you sound like that again.

It wasn't just a physical thing — your body and mind craved her touch, her presence, so much that just the mere thought of being on her bed again got you soaked. She felt something wet through the rough fabric of her jeans, and that got her brain spinning. She fell for you hard. So painfully hard.

"Let's get out of here," she groans, hands firmly grabbing your thighs and lifting you up — wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you out the pavement. Her hardness pressed right against your core — you blushed, hiding your face on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck.

In a heartbeat, you were back at your house.

Your place, because it was the fastest way, when taking the cab. No words were exchanged, not yet. The aching, burning need had to be taken care of first — before properly talking. Your back hits the wall hard as Natasha pushes you against it — her body trapping you between herself and the hard surface — hands hardly, possessively holding you by the hips. Desperately, even. Making sure you wouldn't slip away from her grasp. Her lips dance with yours, tentatively, yet naturally, tongues tasting one another after what felt like centuries. She felt so good, tasted so good.

"Nat..—" you moan against her lips, having her bottom lip trapped between your teeth, then releasing it. Your forehead against hers, eyes soft and filled with desire. Your hands hold her cheeks, traveling to her jaw. Needily, you press kisses to the side of her throat, breathing shaky, heart hardly thrumming. "I never stopped thinking about you..."

"Yeah?" she hums, grabbing the hem of your dress and lifting it up, bunching the fabric by your hips. Her fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and pull them down, pooling around your feet — making you gasp, and pull away from her neck. Eyes wide open. The air hits your heat, making you needier for her.

You almost mewl.

"God, I need you." Natasha utters. She grabs you again and smashes her lips against yours once more, now with so much more passion, more need, more anxiety. Her bulge presses against your now unclothed wetness, coaxing a tiny cry of need out of you. You breathlessly pull away from her, reaching down and fumbling with the buttons of her jeans — until she stops you.

"No—"

"Quiet." she shushes, maneuvering you back, until your body hits the mattress. She climbs onto the bed and stays in a kneeling position, hungrily taking you in. Messy, needy, all for her. Sober, like she wanted planned from the first time. "That dress goes off."

Her voice is commanding, yet not harsh — and her eyes betray her a little. Her eyes are almost pleading, that it is clear how much she needs this. To have you all to herself, to show you how much she wants that. Her underwear becomes even more tight as she sees your trembling fingers, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside, lips parted. Just by her look, you can tell she wants the bra off, too. So you reach behind your back and grants her silent wish, breasts now exposed to her sight.

"There you are..." she moans to herself, shamelessly taking in the sight of you. You're a work of art. With her hand, she coaxes your knees open, and parts your legs. "My... you're so wet. So perfectly wet."

"You're still with a lot on.." you quietly complain, feeling hot and shy at the same time. But her gaze is enough to wipe away the confusion from your eyes. She had a plan.

"Touch yourself for me." she breathes out.

Your eyes briefly widen with the unexpectedness of this statement. You had certainly done this before — touched yourself thinking of her — but the idea of showing this, while she watched, never crossed your mind. But it wasn't an unpleasant idea. It was actually... hot. Sensual. They darken, pupils blown wide as you make yourself comfortable against the pillows, eyelids fluttering as your legs spread a little more, palm resting on your stomach, then moving down. Deliberately, it reaches your sex, a shakily sigh leaving your lips when your middle and ring finger collect some of the slick coat covering your sensitiveness, using it to slowly rub your clitoris, getting you to gasp louder.

"Natasha..." you whisper, eyes falling close, thoughts wandering.

Wandering back to the start — when you first discovered your feelings for her, then the climax, when you both got in bed due the alcohol — then the aftermath, when you needed her so much, felt so alone at night, that your fingers were the only solution. Little wet sounds echo within the room as you rub circles on yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure, that it doesn't take long for the pit in your stomach to manifest itself.

"Faster." Natasha rasps out, taking her jacket and quickly throwing it away. She pulls her tank top over her head, then undo the buttons of her jeans — leaving the bed, just so she can get rid of all the uncomfortable fabric, and climbing it again. She crawls closer to you — eyeing you as you worked on your pussy, her hands caressing your thighs, adding to the stimulation.

"Please...!" you whimper, doing as you're told — rubbing yourself faster — slipping one of your fingers inside your entrance, almost cumming, that quickly. "Please, I need you..!"

"I need you too," she moans to herself, and harshly grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away. You moan loudly in protest — Natasha wouldn't tease you. Not today, when you both needed each other so much. She discards her undergarments, finally — groaning as she's set free. Your eyes lock on her hard length, which was practically hitting her abs now.

"Put it inside me." you beg, grabbing her shoulders to pull her closer. She hovers over you, bracing herself on her forearms, on each side of your body. Your fingernails gently graze her back. Natasha was feeling so much, so much more than she ever felt. Your eyes were sparkling so much, like you were crying — shimmering with the depth of your adoration for her. You grab her cheeks and press your lips to hers, in a gentle peck. Knowing her past, she didn't have to explain her reasons for what had happened. She was scared before, and you respected. "Go on. Love me."

She couldn't wait no longer. She lowers her forehead to your shoulder and places her hands on your hips — her chest against yours, as she lined herself with your hole, effortlessly pushing inside. Stretching you out, like she once did. Having the chance to hear that delicious sounds again.

"You're mine... shit," she groans, rolling into you gently, getting you used to the feeling first. You're so tight, so perfect around her. Natasha's overwhelmed. Her hands press against the base of your throat, squeezing firmly, yet leaving enough room for air. She's so hot. "That pussy is mine. You're mine. You're all mine—"

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around her middle. You wouldn't take long to come tonight. Maybe she'd make you come over and over. She rocks into you, pace not too slow, not too fast. Just right. The right tempo to bring you both the pleasure and connection you so much needed. "Mhm.. fuck, Nat, missed your cock,"

"You're gonna take it over and over—" she comments — kissing your shoulder, roaming her hands up your body, her right palm cupping your breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Your head lolls back, mouth opening to allow a satisfied moan out. "I'm never fucking letting you go again,"

She accelerates, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back into you again — feeling her climax approach. She moves her mouth close to your ear and moans — her own sounds now mixing with yours.

"Natasha...! Fuck, you feel soo good," you gasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you get closer. She takes the hint immediately, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up, allowing her a better angle. "Ah, gimme more,"

"My greedy girl," she groans, her head tilting back. Her cock twitches inside of you — precum already painting you white. She glanced down at where your folds swallowed her, eyes darkening impossibly more. "You're so goddamn tight... 'm not gonna last, moya krasivaya malysha,"

"Okay.. 'ts okay... Cum with me..." you beg her, tangling your fingers into her red strands of hair, pulling her down more, so her forehead rests against yours — the eye contact increasing the intimacy of the moment. She didn't know what to expect now. Didn't know what to think. Only that she had to fill you up.

"C'mon.. nhg, darling.. c'mon.. cum around me," she encourages, feeling her own legs shake as her orgasm washed over her.

She grabbed your hips hard and slammed into you — once, twice, three times, filling you up with her hot release. You squeezed your eyes shut as your body shuddered forwards, breasts pressing against her own as a long, strangled moan flowed out of you, nails digging into her back, pressing her body against yours as you finished. Your walls clenched around her cock, swallowing her more, not allowing her to pull away just that. "God.. I love you!"

Natasha blinks, not sure if she heard right. Her heart squeezes in her chest, arms wrapping around your body. Her back hits the bed and she flips you on top of her, still inside of you — but now, her member softened. The adrenaline was running wild, but you had calmed down a little bit. Just a little. Because this time, it wasn't pure sex. It was lovemaking.

Your face is buried in her chest as she brings up the covers, creating a cocoon of warmth around you. She buries her face into your hair and inhales deeply, staying silent. Just to process things.

"I love you, too. So so much." she murmurs into you hair. She felt terrified to say this. But once you're someone who she already showed her scars to, it's not that bad anymore.

"You do?" you ask expectantly, feeling tired, drowsy. Natasha smiles at that. She feels her eyes burning with heavy emotion. She nods.

"Yes... I love you so much." she confirms, softly stroking her hair, brushing some strands away from your sweaty forehead. "And I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?"

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend after the sex?" you chuckle quietly, but happiness was evident in your voice. Now you could sleep at peace. The first night of rest you'd have in a long time. In the arms of the woman you cherished, worshipped.

Natasha had won now. She was so fucking relieved. All because of a phrase.

"Of course I will, you idiot."

"I'm never, ever, ever letting you go again." the room is messy, smell of sex lingering around you. But now things were sorted out. By the morning, you could have a more direct, serious conversation. For now, you'd rest together, wrapped up in each other's arms, like it was always meant to be.

#natasha marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #marvel #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #g!p natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff soft smut #black widow #black widow x reader #i miss her so much

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bringthekaos · 2 months ago

Note

I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #arcane s2 spoilers #jayvik #jayce talis #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #asks #ace answers

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shitgoblindingleberry · 9 months ago

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OKAY CAUSE LISTEN. (till character analysis let’s go) (apologies in advance this is LONGG)

if till is actually in love with mizi then there is literally no outcome in which him and ivan are happy.

because 1) he’ll never love ivan as long as mizi is alive, and 2) even if he thinks mizi is dead, ivan will only ever be a rebound, the second choice he turned to when mizi wasn’t an option.

however, i would like for you to consider that maybe, instead, the problem is that till doesn’t know how to properly process or identify his feelings. i would like to propose that maybe he misinterpreted his feelings for mizi as love when in actuality he views her as some unattainable idol to covet but not actually connect with (like parasocial relationships).

meanwhile, ivan was always there for him and slowly became a support system till didn’t even know he had. because even if he didnt feel LOVE for ivan, they definitely had a REAL relationship—arguably more real than anything he ever had with mizi. all of their interactions are just like. much more RAW than anything till ever had with mizi if that makes sense. because all we’ve ever seen him doing with her is admiring from afar and sacrificing things for her in secret that she never asked for, nor wanted from him. while with ivan they actually hung out with absolutely no expectations of anything between them (on till’s side at least. it wasn’t a performative relationship to be this self sacrificing person for ivan like it would’ve been if he were talking to mizi. which is ironically a much more healthy basis for a relationship. to fully see the person as being equal to you without putting them on a pedestal)

i think till’s way of coping with everything was finding someone else outside himself to live for and idolize. his entire life was built around mizi, every choice he made committed with her in mind (like when he chose to stay in the garden rather than escaping for her sake). and once she’s ripped away, he’s left feeling empty and aimless—the center of his very world is no longer there.

HOWEVER.

this is shaken by ivan’s death. even though mizi was always his center, he can’t exactly not be affected by someone who’s been at his side for YEARS. and, unlike with mizi, their bond was definitely real and very much tangible for BOTH sides (despite meaning different things for each of them). but when ivan died FOR him, till felt something that was very real and very confusing which was very much a mixture of raw emotions he wasn't prepared to face feeling from anyone apart from mizi. because while mizi is his ideal, i think his feelings about her were always accompanied by a sense of disconnect because they didnt have any actual basis for this bond beyond till simply yearning for her. but with ivan. they were friends. they trusted each other by this point, and ivan has shown that he cares for till REPEATEDLY throughout them knowing each other. and.

i think till subconsciously acknowledged that ivan was important to him, even if just as a background support in his life. someone he hung out with without thinking about it too much. and i think that sense of care came very gradually too. because ivan is a weird mf but he still managed to worm his way into till’s world, and now he’s a staple there, even if till himself isn’t aware of that.

mainly just my vibe here is that his feelings surrounding ivan are very messy and complicated (as real life emotions tend to be) and that wasn’t what till was looking for when he was younger. he needed something stable, something he could look at and idolize from afar. something he could dedicate his messed up life to without having to worry about other complicated feelings. and that was what mizi was to him. a purpose to live that was unchanging because no matter what till himself did or what happened to him, it didn’t affect HER. and that was comforting. but ivan existed outside of his little ideal. and he was a real person who (unfortunately :/ ) made till feel real things that were outside of his control. which wasnt what he needed when he was younger—he needed stability. but i think in the end he had the most chance of an actual developed, healthy, and consistent relationship with ivan.

that is, if bro wasnt dead 🙏🙏🕊🕊

#rip ivan you would have (you always have) loved till #character analysis but it’s actually just me projecting #alien stage #alien stage till #till alien stage #alnst till #alnst #i have a chronic case of not being able to stfu once i like a character #if you managed to make it this far thank you ily #alnst spoilers

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sunshinemorningstar · 14 days ago

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This was written in the middle of the night, and I was too lazy to proofread, so I apologize in advance for all the confusing sentence structures and ridiculous typos you are sure to find from my sleep deprived brain.

Disclaimer, school has been hell so I haven’t had the time to rewatch all the previous Helluva Boss episodes, so it’s possible that I’ll have missed some information that causes me to misread a situation or action, and I might write a better analysis after I get a break from the awful invention that is our current education system. Also, I am not a mental health professional, so please take this with a grain of salt.

So, I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how Stolas was not thinking of Octavia and having their various takes on the matter, and I’m here to add my unsolicited two cents to the conversation. There’s been some astute and observant people who mentioned that Stolas ran out of his antidepressants during full moon, and proposed that he might not have gotten them refilled after, judging from his generally miserable seeming energy in Mastermind (oversimplification, but that is the general gist from what I can tell). Many also propose that the antidepressants suggest that he has depression, which I believe to be a reasonable suggestion (though I acknowledge that other possibilities exist). Thus, I propose to you that Stolas’s depression was the main driving force for how recklessly he acted when he saved Blitz.

Now, I’m not arguing that he saved Blitz because he was depressed, because aside from such a reasoning making very little sense, it’s quite obvious he genuinely loves Blitz and would in fact go to the ends of the earth for his sake, and I think that’s really sweet. However, I think the reason he was so reckless about his safety isn’t so much due to a lack of consideration for Via as it is a manifestation of his poor mental health and subsequent perception of himself, others’ views of him, and his dynamics with others. Putting aside the possibility that there simply wasn’t enough time for him to do anything else— a point I think has some credence, but which doesn’t negate the fact that he would have left his still teenage daughter Via alone to save Blitz, and therefor prioritized Blitz’s life over Via’s wellbeing (a complicated but ultimately irrelevant aspect of the conversation), it is possible that Stolas’s depression damaged his self esteem in ways he may not even have been aware of (though I suspect he, to some extent, was)

Source: Personal experiences :)

Also, the DSM 5

See, one symptom of depression is lowered self esteem, and it can take the form of believing one to be worthless, or even a burden to others. This isn’t really rational, and can persist despite evidence to the contrary. I think it’s entirely possible that Stolas made his sacrifice believing on some level that Octavia would be better off without him— or at least wouldn’t miss him. We hear Stolas sing about not listening to the voice that “says I’m not enough” in When I See Him Tonight, suggesting that this lowered self esteem is both something he experiences and is actively aware of. We also see him watching his hellanovellas surrounded by alcohol bottles during Mastermind, which doesn’t suggest great things for his mental health.

Knowing what we know of his mental state, it wouldn’t surprise me if he legitimately didn’t think that Octavia would miss him after his death, or even feel his loss at all. And even if she did miss him, his mind argues, it won’t be for long— she’ll get over him easily, even if she claims otherwise, even if she claims she wants him around, because depression influenced thoughts does not a rational assessment of interpersonal relationships make. Maybe he even tells himself that it’s all for the better. Surely it’s best that Via isn’t around him so much, someone who’s so unwanted and fundamentally flawed that neither of his partners wanted him, both reacting with rage and revulsion when he tried to be open with them, someone who needs medications in order to feel happy, someone who hurts her whether he means to or not, as seen in their visit to Loo Loo Land and him forgetting his promise to see the stars. Wouldn’t it be better for them all? Him gone and Blitz safe and Via far from his rotten influence, bound to wither in the toxic soil formed from his poisonous roots. And sure, Via isn’t an adult yet, but it’s just one year— less, even, at this point, and what has he done but hurt her over and over again? He’s not good for her, and isn’t it better he rids himself from her life early, doing one final good deed? So he shows up to Blitz’s trial to take on the blame, at peace because this is the better option, after all.

None of this is rational of course, nor is it true (at least, not without removing a metric ton of context) but his mind is dredging up his worst moments, the most painful, shameful parts of his existence, and applying the least forgiving readings to it all.

I don’t think that all this goes through his head in the moment, there’s not enough time for that, and the circumstances do not lend to this much thought anyway. But, I’d like to direct your attention to what Stolas was doing right before he found out about Blitz’s imminent execution: watching hellanovellas and drinking alcohol. Now, I personally tend to put my full attention on the shows I watch, regardless of their quality or any personal interest I possess (it is mildly annoying how uncontrollable yet intent my attention can be) so I would welcome shows as nice distractions to my thoughts— however, that does not apply to everyone, and it’s possible that watching the show provides a similar effect to Stolas as something like drawing does for me, providing enough stillness for his mind to wander and end up stewing over his numerous personal failings and reasons for shame, each character and plot line feeling like a personal callout and bringing all his negative self talk to the forefront of his mind, further exacerbated by the alcohol we know he was drinking. This is the headspace he’s in when Blitz’s execution is broadcast. As he panics and tries to figure out how to save Blitz, an idea comes to his mind— it would mean leaving Via behind, but… she’s better off without him, isn’t she?

TLDR: Stolas wasn’t really not thinking of Octavia so much as he was too depressed to register that his death might be a net negative for his daughter (because negative self talk be negative self talkin).

#helluva boss #hellaverse #stolas #stolitz #depressed stolas #negative self talk #character analysis #mastermind

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scekrex · 8 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I request episode 8!Adam x Cannibal!Riader, where he is one of the ones protecting the hotel (Primarily to eat, obviously). At that moment, when Nifty pierces Adam with a dagger, Reader takes him to himself, first to eat him, but then, imbued with this angel, decides that a living Adam is better for him than a dead one. At the same time, Reader himself continues to joke about how one day he will eat his flesh :)

(I would like to apologize in advance for my English, I am still learning and therefore use a translator)

Okay first of all: you don't need to apologize for your english sweetface, you're doing great okay? And second I'd like to apologize that it took me so long to write it.

A kingdom of torment that never dies

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, canon typical violence, cannibalism

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The smell of divine blood hung in the air, a smell you surely would not be able to forget. The golden liquid had painted the ground and while the corpses on the ground were tasting so much better than sinner flesh, it wasn’t giving you the rush you had expected to get out of it.

That was until your hand grabbed a hold of one of the flying angel’s ankles, a firm yank brought the woman crashing onto the ground. Your body was running on autopilot, high off the smell of divine blood and the sight of your next meal. The angel was screaming, trying to kick you. Her weapon was out of her reach, she had dropped it before her face had met the ground due to the surprise and shock your attack had caused. She flapped her wings, desperate to get away from you, but none of it worked out.

Fear had filled the creature’s eyes, but there was no mercy left inside of you, not when you felt so hungry. Your body’s instincts were strong, too strong for you to fight them off so the only thing you found yourself able to do was to give into them and feast. Your teeths unk down into the angel’s flesh, the scream that tore from her throat and sounded like her vocal cords were ripping apart sounded dull to you, muffled even. Every sound that was made sounded like your ears were filled with cotton, the only clear thought in your mind was that your body craved food more than anything. You were hungry, oh so desperately hungry and the taste that filled your mouth as you bit a chunk of flesh out of the angel’s leg which you had pulled up close to your face, leaving the winged creature dangling upside down, was truly something different. The angelic corpses tasted delicious already but feasting on one of them while she was still alive? That truly was somethíng different, it gave you the rush you had hoped for, made you feel like the king of the world.

But then her foot met your face, the impact was hard and sudden which caused you to stumble backwards a little. Your hand slipped from her ankle and she managed to escape - oh what a shame that your food got away. It was only then that you realized that the angels were not reforming, they were leaving. The portal to heaven shone bright on the blood red sky and you watched as your new favorite meal seemed to retreat. Your eyes drank in your surroundings. The hotel was destroyed, when did that happen? The angelic corpses on the ground were slowly dragged away by the other cannibals and just as you were about to grab one yourself and leave, you spotted the gleaming golden wings of their leader - so that was why they suddenly had been eager to leave Hell. Charlie and her friends had managed to take down their leader, without him the army seemed rather useless.

So before any of your friends was able to claim the first man, you made your way over to the golden winged creature to claim him as yours. You were aware that a cold corpse would taste less good than a warm one, yet you wanted to enjoy the taste and pride that came with eating the first man and therefore you decided to take him with you.

His blood smelled different from the others - no matter if dead or alive. He smelled tainted, impure and yet still angelic and divine enough to be roaming Heaven’s realms. Something about their leader was different, not only his smell but also the fact that his heart was still beating, you were able to hear it like a drum.

Beat - silence - silence - silence - beat - silence - silence - silence - beat.

It was slow, weak and struggled with pumping blood through Adam’s body due to the amount of wounds his body suffered from. If he would continue to bleed in the way he did, the tall angel would bleed out in no time. You knew that those pure creatures tasted better alive so you made sure to press fabric to his wounds in order to stop the bleeding - and surprisingly that worked better than you had thought it would. The bleeding stopped rather quickly despite the fact that a dagger had been pierced through his chest multiple times - a thing that made you wonder if the angelic healing process worked any different from the sinners’.

Dragging this gigantic creature home had been quite the struggle but you had managed it nonetheless and now he was resting in your bed, fogging the air inside your apartment - and probably the air outside of the building you were living in too - with the delicious smell of his blood. Oh how you craved to eat this man right then and there. But alive this man would be worth more - maybe enough to get you noticed and seen. He was the first man after all - he surely would attract attention and with attention a higher status would follow. So keeping him alive was the smarter decision long term wise.

A grunt came from the brunette - it was almost inaudible but your ears had picked the sound up despite that. Your head snapped to the side, eyeing as the first man slowly sat up in the bed he was resting in his hand reached up to hold his head in pain, he was seemingly feeling dizzy, not that you were able to blame him, he had lost quite a lot of blood.

“What the fuck?” the angel asked quietly, talking to himself, as his palm covered his chest. His chest, which was still covered in blood. A deep and hungry sounding chuckle vibrated through your body as you leaned towards the first man, making yourself noticeable, “A creature as fucking sweet as you might end up eaten after all.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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chanothy · 1 month ago

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Light Shinning Is The Blue Mirror

Episode Four

previous | all | next

MU :: …huh? Did i hear it wrong?

MU :: Just now, when he saw us he went “ugh”

MILLER :: HUh?! The cat spoke?!

MILLER :: Wow.. They’re a freaky bunch with a talking cat.

MILLERS :: This is why i hate filthy demon butlers

MU :: ………………

MU :: ugh… I have never regretted being able to understand human language more than i do now.

[Come on, Mu]

I heard in advance that he would behave in a “unpleasant manner” i was prepared for it, but…

Sir Miller’s attitude was exactly, “The attitude of a typical noble towards a demon butler”

However, his attitude would only hinder Lucas’ and the others negotiation

As i stroke Mu’s head i try to calm my mind

[(Patients, patients)]

LUCAS :: Come on, Mr.Miller… Please don’t be so rude

LUCAS :: Sir Finley is very worried

MILLER :: Hmph, as i said in the beginning, i have no intention of leaving the mansion

MILLER :: Since it was my uncle’s order, i had no choice but to allow the interview. But to begin with, i am of a different status than you guys.

MILLER :: Just benign able to exchange words with you like this is an honor you all don’t deserve

NAC :: Yes, yes. Of course, i understand

LONO :: …wow…how can i put this…

LONO :: Apparently he’s been a recluse ever since his parents died. At first i felt a bit sorry for him

LONO :: …The moment i met him, my impression changed. In fact, it’s negative

LONO :: I mean, if he’s like that… wouldn't it be better for the world if he wasn’t allowed outside the mansion?

MU :: ….I think so too

[Uh, well, calm down…]

MILLER :: hey you guys! WHat are you whispering about?

MILLER :: It is strictly forbidden to talk in font of the master. Even though you are a servant, you don’t know such common sense?

LONO :: (...I’m not your servant)

NAC :: My apologies, Mr/Miller…I’m late in introductions

NAC:: This person is not a servant… Their our Master

MILLER :: …yeah? This person?

MILLER :: Nac has been praising them for hours, calling them ‘beautiful’. That master?

MILLER :: ……………….

[....Sorry…]

NAC :: Hehe… There’s nothing to apologise for Aruji-sama

NAC :: Being too beautiful is not a sin.

NAC :: You are so beautiful… even Lord Miller seems to be at a loss for words.

MILLER :: That can’t be true. The difference was so huge that i was at a loss for words.

MILLER :: With so much praise, you’d think some amazing person would emerge. But…

MILLER :: It seems his words were exaggerated.

[....sorry….]

NAC :: ……….huh

NAC :: I see, i see…. Those are your last words…

MILLER :: huh…?

LUCAS :: Hey, Nac-Kun? Calm down

LUCAS :: In situations like this, first take a deep breath

NAC :: Oh, yeah… it was..

NAC :: To control you ranger…. Take a deep breath and count to six, right…?

NAC :: So…

NAC :: 1…2…3…4…5…6

NAC :: Phew,,, now, Mr.Miller

NAC :: (takes out weapons) …Are you prepared?

MILLER :: Huh…?

LUCAS :: Nac-kun…! Let’s put away our weapons for now.

LUCAS :: (Nac-Kun… i understand your feelings well though )

LUCAS :: (If you take action now…you’ll end up causing trouble for our Aruji-sama)

LUCAS :: (If you’re serious about it… you need to wait a while and do it in a way that won’t arouse suspicion)

NAC ::( …! Yes that’s true…)

NAC :: Hehe… i’m very sorry, Mr.Miller

NAC :: When it comes to my Aruji-sama… i tend to be a little indiscriminate

NAC :: Please forgive my rudeness

MILLER :: Hmm, hmm… ! It’s good enough if i understand

MILLER :: First of all, you guys… isn’t it your job to take me outside?

MILLER :: If you upset me, you will end up upsetting my uncle… Don’t forget that!

LUCAS :: Yes, of course, i am fully aware of this

MILLER :: Seriously.. All this pointless talking has made me thirsty

MILLER :: Bring me some good wine and some snack first! We’ll talk after that.

LUCAS :: Understood, Mr.Miller

LUCAS :: Today i’ve brought along some of the best wine and one of the best chefs in the central region

LUCAS :: I’m sure it will live up to your expectations

LUCAS :: Well then, Lono-kun, i;m counting on you

LONO :: …Okay then, i’ll use the manion’s kitchen

MILLER :: That’s fine. However, i won’t accept anything but the best cuisine

MILLER :: Remember, the palate of a nobleman is much more refined than that of a commander!

LONO :: …..ugh……

NAC :: We’ll set the table and the dishes

[I’ll help too]

Along with Lono, who looked clearly less motivated… we headed to the mansions kitchen

#devil butler with black cat #akuneko #lato #lato bacca #lucas thompscie #Lucas #nac #nac stein #lono #lono fontaine #light shinning in the blue mirror #chanothy translates #Alan #aknk translations

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warriorteam1924 · 1 year ago

Text

My body’s aching

John Deacon x Veronica Tetzlaff

Author note : Hello my beauties. I'm back for John's birthday of course !! I’ve been super busy lately and I’m aware it’s not my best piece, but I hope some of you will enjoy it anyways. Thanks in advance to anyone who will be giving honest feedback, it’s always very appreciated. Also, I remind you English isn’t my mother tongue, apologies in advance for the mistakes.

Warnings : none really, just my awful writing. and a slight sexual innuendo….

Summary : a slight problem on a birthday morning

Words count : 1,243 words

Permanent taglist : @reavenedges-lies @thosequeenboys @born-to-lose @orionis8689 @queenlover05 (communicate with me regarding tagging please)

As he usually did, John Deacon went to bed at a reasonable hour that day. He kissed his wife goodnight and got comfy under the cover, the fresh air coming from the window cooling the room’s atmosphere. He wasn’t thinking at all that the following day would be his birthday. Not that he didn’t care at all, but at this very moment, all he wanted was a good night’s rest. After all, he was going to be 72 in a few hours, he had to take care of his sleep schedule, since he wasn’t 23 anymore.

Dreams. John didn’t have many of them, or at least it didn’t recall them very much. A few fragments, snippets of actions or moments in the blur, faces or vague figures but nothing more. All he knew was that he moved a lot during his sleep, and apparently it was according to his dreams, to the actions he was making while he was in dreamland. His wife never complained about it, she just mentioned it a few times, curious as for what her husband could have been dreaming of.

This night, Veronica noticed her husband was particularly agitated, and hoped he was not having a nightmare. Thanks to the weak light that was in the room, she looked at his face, ready to wake him up in case he was in distress. But his face seems happy, more than happy even, so Veronica gently kissed his cheek and went back to sleep.

John was also usually an early bird, waking up first in the house. He usually went downstairs to make coffee and this day being his birthday didn’t mean he would have waited to be served like a kid on his special day. Just like he did every morning when he was waking up by her side, he looked at his wife for a moment, as she was still slightly snoring, gently rocked within Morpheus’ arms. He turned around to get up.

“OUUUUUUUUUUUUCHHHHHHH”, John let out a loud scream of pain, brutally waking his wife.

“Oh my God, John, are you okay?”, she asked, terribly worried.

“My back, my back is stuck, oh lord it hurts so bad, what the hell???”, John explained, complained and cursed all at once.

“Are you able to move at all ? what’s going on?”, Ronnie asked, still incredibly concerned.

“I can’t, I’m stuck….”, Deaky said as he put back his head on the pillow.

“Hold on, I’m gonna get some painkillers right now and I’m going to try to massage you”, his wife said as she energetically went out of bed to get what she needed to help her husband.

John looked at her, with a mix of anger given how quickly and easily got out of their bed. She rapidly came back with a glass of water and a painkiller, which John put in his mouth right away. He swallowed, as his back was still tense, hoping the tablet would be efficient soon.

“Okay, turn around now.”, Ronnie firmly said.

“Excuse me?”, John replied, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna massage you, silly. Shoo, turn around”, she repeated as she made a motion with his hands to illustrate her words.

“Oh, no Ronnie I’m going to be fine, don’t worry.”, John said, trying to avoid a massage.

“John Richard Deacon, you better lay on your stomach right now or else I’m going to do it myself and I’m not going to be gentle.”, she warned him, very seriously.

John looked at her, confused. Was she really going to use force to give him a massage? He wasn’t sure, but she seemed extremely serious. As a result, John complied, gently laying his stomach, waiting.

He felt his wife’s soft hands on his skin, making him shiver.

“I hope my hands are not too cold…. Where is it painful?”, she asked, this time way more gently.

“My lower back seems stuck….”, John replied, his head between two pillows.

“Okay, let’s see….”, Ronnie carried on, as she put some lotion on her husband’s back.

John slightly arched at the sensation, but tried to remain still, so that the massage, combined to the painkillers, would be useful. Deaky suddenly heard his wife giggle.

“Are you mocking me?”, John complained, his voice muffled given his position.

“No no, of course not. I just had this silly thought of me being a Dom right now, doing erotic stuff to you….”, she explained, tittering again.

“Ronnie, do you really think this is the right moment to think about sex?”, John asked, as he was still feeling his wife’s hands massaging him on his back.

She got closer to his ear, whispering : “it’s always the right moment to remind my husband I love him and I still have a strong desire for him”.

John felt his cheeks suddenly getting hotter and probably as red as the most mature tomato one could ever see. As a reply, he only let out a soft ‘hum’, a smile still appearing on his lips.

And then, all of a sudden, and since his wife had mentioned the topic, John remembered. Fragments, like he often did, but he remembered.

He remembered a passionate moment with his wife in his dream, his skin pressed on hers, the ardent kisses they were sharing, his hips rocking on hers.

And he remembered how his last thrust as he was reaching orgasm made him arche his back strongly. His body surely moved as well as he was dreaming, hence his back blocked as he woke up.

“John?”, Ronnie asked. “The massage is done, are you okay? You’ve been very quiet”, she worried.

“Yes, thank you, honey.”, John replied, as he got into a more comfortable position, to breathe properly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re as red a as tomato?”, Ronnie asked.

“Yup, all good, I’m feeling better already. I’m be up soon.”, John tried to reassure her.

Yet, the two of them had been married for a very long time now, and even if Ronnie was no mind reader, she knew her husband so very well. She looked at him in silence for a few seconds and a smile appeared on her lips.

“We did have a steamy night in your dream, right? And you took me so intensely that your back got stuck, right?”, she asked, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Oh god, Ronnie, what the hell?”, John tried to fake being shocked after her insinuations.

“Try and tell me I’m wrong. After all, there is nothing to be ashamed of…. Even in our vows, we said ‘I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.’….”, she reminded him.

“Yes, okay, yes, that’s true. Happy?”, John confessed, his feeling switching from being ashamed, and slightly irritated.

Ronnie was still looking at him with a mischievous smile. She got closer and kissed him on his soft lips.

“Try and get better so that after the kids are gone, we can celebrate your birthday properly, just the two of us.”, she said with a wink.

She got up and left the room, leaving John with his thoughts. He spoke out loud, as if he was warning his back.

“You better get back on the right tracks buddy, because tonight’s gonna be the night….”.

That day was surely to be a very unusual birthday….

#warriorteam1924 writes #my body's aching #deaky's 72th birthday #queen #john deacon #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon fanfic #john deacon imagine #veronica tetzlaff #johnica #deaky thank you for being the most amazing man and inspire us daily #we love you #random time to post it but im doing 849002348 things at the same time ^^"

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sanakotsu · 10 months ago

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Romantic? Date Translation

Quantified Feelings of Love and Hate/Chapter 6

Writer: Akira Season: Winter Characters: Mayoi, Tatsumi, Kohaku

Translation: Sankotsu Proofread: @boozuru

Mayoi: But when I saw Tatsumi, I immediately felt all my worries disappear! As expected, Tatsumi-san is a saint who is always saving someone like me!

Kohaku: Uh, so.

All of us are here to help HiMERU-han?

Hm~ I guess it’s because we had an easier time with yesterday’s shoot compared to those two.

Mayoi: ...

Kohaku: Can someone respond already? I’m getting lonely from how much it feels like I’m talking to myself.

Mayoi: Oh, um, yes! I apologize! Anzu-san sure is quiet!

Since you’re such a skilled producer, there should be no problem with you acting as a superior and giving orders!

Kohaku: And? You’ve been acting suspiciously. Plus you haven’t contributed to this conversation at all and you’re just slowly slipping away.

It must be because you don’t want to help your friend Tatsumi-han, or even the heinous Crazy:B.

Mayoi: I would never! I don’t see Crazy:B that way at all! In fact, I feel as though we’re peas of a pod since our units debuted at the same time…!

Kohaku: I see. Well, that’s troublesome. I know I’m contradicting myself, but you shouldn’t try to get all buddy-buddy with us.

Mayoi: I, um, was actually hoping to get closer to you on a personal level since it would be terrible of me to hurt you

Kohaku: …? I don’t know what you’re going on about but let’s get along at least for this job. Here, let’s shake hands~♪

Mayoi: Kyaaaaaa?!

Kohaku: …Jeez, that scared me. Why are you yelling all of a sudden?

Mayoi: I’m sorry for catching you off guard! My heart and mind were colliding and made a metallic sound!

Kohaku: Your heart is made of metal?

Mayoi: The impulsive thoughts that wanted to go rampant were being held back by my logic that I call restraint! It’s still unreliable and weak though…!

Kohaku: You're unexpectedly a weird guy, I can’t even keep a conversation with you. Didn’t you have an easy time yesterday when you were paired with Niki-han?

So you are someone who can do it if he tries.

Mayoi: It’s not that. I don’t even know why we got the OK yesterday! That’s why I don’t know what to do now that I’m paired with Tatsumi-san…!

Tatsumi: ...

Mayoi: Ah, Tatsumi-san! Tatsumi-sa~n! It’s Mayoi…! It was difficult to talk to these people I don’t know very well while walking with them!

But when I saw Tatsumi, I immediately felt all my worries disappear! As expected, Tatsumi-san is a saint who is always saving someone like me...!

Tatsumi: Mayoi-san…Anzu-san, Kohaku-san. Good morning everyone.

Kohaku: Oh, good morning. Hm? Wasn’t HiMERU-han with you?

Tatsumi: (Sigh) We ran into a bit of trouble.

Mayoi: (Uu… I want to hide behind Tatsumi-san! I want to be enveloped by the kindness and warmth he radiates from his whole being!)

(But if I were to move right now, I’m sure it would look suspicious…!)

Tatsumi: Is something wrong, Mayoi-san? You’re fidgeting.

Speaking of which, even though we were told in advance, you really did get someone to help us, Anzu-san.

Kohaku: What do you mean?

Tatsumi: Um, well. As you may be aware, yesterday our pair—HiMERU and Tatsumi Kazehaya—were struggling and couldn’t get a single good take.

So in the end, we couldn’t complete our job.

Kohaku: It sure looked like it. We didn’t know what HiMERU-han was so embarrassed since he didn’t want to tell us anything.

Tatsumi: Fufu. His pride gets in the way of consulting his friends for help.

As for me, I told ALKALOID everything yesterday.

Mayoi: You sound…oddly happy to say that…?

Tatsumi: Fufu. That’s because if there’s something you can’t do, it means there’s still room for you to grow.

It’s especially important for ALKALOID to know because I’m often seen as “the big brother who can seemingly do everything” with them.

I feel better knowing that they understand that’s not how I actually am.

Mayoi: Uu…too bright… You’re so optimistic, Tatsumi-san. Even when you’re having problems or feeling worried, you never let it show. Ah…I want to rely on you…!

Kohaku: But isn’t this situation technically not your guys’ fault? It’s all up to the higher-ups on whether or not they say a take is good.

Tatsumi: Yes. This troublesome situation was unexpected. Even with all the time we had yesterday, we got nowhere despite our best efforts.

So we decided to consult Anzu-san yesterday since we realized our efforts alone wouldn’t be enough to get over this hurdle.

We’re grasping at straws not knowing what to do.

❀ ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎ ❀

➸ previous ❀ all ❀ next ❀

#enstars translation #kohaku oukawa #tatsumi kazehaya #mayoi ayase #romantic? date

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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Self Promo Sunday: “Take Me Home to Your Arms”

(For this week’s Self Promo Sunday, here’s a little piece I wrote back during the hiatus between 5a and 5b. Certainly, like many of us at the time, I was wondering what might be happening to Killian in the Underworld and how Emma and the rest were going to get him back. This little Underworld spec fic was one of my attempts to answer those questions. It’s obviously canon-divergent now, and I apologize in advance for the Killian trauma. It's not that I want to hurt him, but this was the image of the Underworld and its suffering which first took root in my head, even if it didn’t go that way, and I truly wanted to see Emma come to his rescue, just as he has decided to go after her and fight for her so many times, whatever the risk to himself and his own safety.)

(The title and opening lyrics are from the song "Take Me Home" by US.)

**Can also be found on AO3 and ff.net

By: @snowbellewells

"I'm only happy when I'm with you, home for me is where you are…

I won't be happy 'til I'm with you, home for me is where you are,

These four walls mean nothing without you, home for me is where you are,

They tell me that I'll make it, it'll only be a while, but a while lasts forever without you;

Send out the alarms, I'm all alone,

Wrap me in your arms and take me home…"

Her footsteps fell quickly on the pavement, frantic in the dark. Emma Swan couldn't sleep, couldn't rest, couldn't stop. She could not wait any longer, and she wasn't sure why she had hesitated as long as she did, how she hadn't realized she could get to her pirate and find him sooner; the desperation now so intense it nearly possessed her.

Surprisingly, Regina of all people was the one only two steps behind her, anxious to find "Captain Guyliner". For all of the ways the queen and the pirate argued, needled, and harassed each other to the point of distraction, clearly – despite her derision of Hook and talk of his faults – the regal had missed her favorite "nemesis" and sparring partner more than she would ever admit aloud. That Regina took Emma's part when the others questioned the possibility of her plan, that Regina spoke up of her own accord and agreed it could work, meant the world to Emma. It had set them all in motion and brought them to the edge of the lake. It was only a matter of time before she made her way to Killian's side again.

Though Gold had gotten them to the Underworld easily enough, he had also predictably vanished on some venture of his own almost immediately after their arrival. Snow and Charming had gone to search by the water and in the forest, and Robin had seemed the most capable and likely person to send with them. Emma wanted to think they would all be fine, that splitting up would only allow them to cover that much more ground and find Killian sooner, but she couldn't help worrying for them as well as her sailor, when she couldn't see or know what they might run into. Forcing herself to re-focus,her mind whispered, 'Killian, where are you? Come back to me…'

Without her even being aware until they blurred her vision of the streets, silent tears were coursing down her face. The streets before them were so similar to the Storybrooke routes grown familiar, only darker and shrouded in eerie smoke. She would not allow it to slow her, and she pressed on blindly, unsure where to look as her eyes swept from side to side, certain that Killian must be close by. Once she saw him, Emma ached to fall on her knees at his side and beg his forgiveness, express her endless remorse for all the ways she had gotten it wrong in trying to save him, and he had paid the price. In horrific detail, she kept seeing the light fade from his blue, blue eyes, hearing his ragged plea to grant his wishes this time, his anguished cry and the wet, sucking sound as the blade slid home in his body. Her torment repeated, picturing what he might be going through in the domain of Hades. Was he still in pain? Was he being punished, taunted, tortured beyond the injuries she herself had inflicted? Even once she reached him, would she ever be able to make things right?

Emma might well have kept running aimlessly forever – not willing to give up or rest – but the fog thickened further, obscuring the twisted versions of Gold's pawn shop, Marco's woodworking studio, Maurice French's delivery van at the curb, and Granny's diner, to the point that she could barely make out any of the landmarks or see to take a step in front of her. Hesitating, breath coming out in frantic pants and eyes darting wildly, she nearly panicked, staring in one direction and then another helplessly.

It was then, when despair began to creep in and take her over, that a warm, comforting hand slipped into hers, squeezing firmly. "Mom!" Henry's ever-deepening voice called her back, cutting through her whirling thoughts and clearing her mind. "Calm down. You have to use your magic. It's powered by love. Focus on Killian, on how much you need to find him, and we'll get there…I know it."

Blinking away the tears which had barely let up their entire time in this twisted mockery of their hometown, Emma managed to give her brave, amazing son a tremulous smile. Nodding in affirmation, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and tried to focus on Henry's encouragement. She finally believed that Killian was her True Love. She planned to attempt splitting her heart to share with him; her magic should lead them to her pirate. She needed to calm down and allow it to work. It only took her other True Love buoying her up to remind her. This had to work…and it would!

Henry didn't let go of her hand, but stood right next to her offering his strength and belief, ready to venture forward at her side. Emma closed her eyes, raised her other hand slightly, and sent out tendrils of her magic, seeking, searching for Killian.

"You can do it, Mom," Henry urged, rooting her on. "I want him back too. He can't be far!"

Maybe it was Henry's faith, or maybe Regina had found a way to get her magic, which had been shorting out since they'd entered the realm of the dead, working again; whatever it was, the way ahead grew more visible as they pushed forward quietly. An even more complete and odder hush than they had been keeping fell over their small trio as through the smoke and fog the clock tower and library abruptly appeared before them. A chill of foreboding ran up Emma's spine, and she clutched Henry's hand in hers more tightly. She couldn't explain how she knew it, but this was where they needed to be. Kilian was nearby. Her own magic felt as though it were reaching out and trying to find him, as she'd hoped, or that the connection she knew was between them was asserting itself at last. It didn't matter that this sinister version of the clock tower looked like the last place she wanted to enter, if Killian Jones was in there, then that was exactly where she would go.

Nodding toward the building which towered over them, Emma only said with a grim determination, "He's in there."

Henry looked over at her, no longer having to tilt his chin up, almost as tall as his mom, and merely met her eyes with a nod before replying, "Then let's go get him," his face as set and determined as hers.

Regina's expression was grim as well, and she flexed her hand, making sure there was a fireball ready if they needed it. "In a way, it makes a twisted sort of sense," she conceded, moving to follow them without hesitation. "Maleficent's dungeon is beneath the library, ready for Hades to use."

Pushing open the door, the three cautiously stepped through the darkened entryway of the building. Where Belle was usually standing at the circulation desk to greet those who entered her library in Storybrooke with a bright, excited smile and ink-smudged fingers, here nothing greeted them but unnatural, hovering stillness, the musty, dry smell of books left unread and long forgotten, and the dank gray interior that urged them to turn back before they were lost within its depths. If Emma hadn't been certain this was the place before, she was sure now – this was where they would find Killian. The very structure itself seemed to be trying to unnerve them, as if afraid they would succeed.

"Here, Miss Swan," Regina spoke up crisply, still focused and business-like, breaking into Emma's cluttered thoughts.

Glancing up, Emma found the other woman standing at an exact replica of the elevator down to the basement which had once held the dragon-wraith of her former friend. Obviously the mayor didn't wish to waste any more time here than was strictly necessary – whether she would admit to being unsettled or not – and Emma couldn't agree more. She crossed the room with Henry to stand at his other mother's side. They looked into the elevator for a moment, then swallowed hard and pressed on.

The old lift creaked and groaned as it brought them down into the depths below the false clock tower, and it only grew darker and danker the further they went. By the time they reached the bottom, Emma couldn't see her hand in front of her face it was so deeply black and the fog so thick. If she felt it would be any safer, she would have urged Henry to stay – but she doubted it would be, and she knew he wouldn't wait behind anyway.

"Stay close, Miss Swan," Regina warned again tartly as they stepped forward on the rocky, uneven ground. Her voice was cautious even through its crisp impatience, and Emma had learned by now to read the other woman better rather than assuming that Regina didn't care or was coldly unaffected; the former queen was worried, and ached to feel she had some semblance of control, which made her take it wherever she could.

Rather than arguing, Emma merely nodded, heading forward quickly and relieved that Regina and Henry willingly kept pace, one on each side of her, bolstering her without words. As they continued, Emma felt tingling energy, prickling sparks of heat running along her veins, making trails she felt she should be able to look down and see glowing beneath her skin in the dark. Her breath went short, coming out in ragged puffs. "Killian…" she breathed out desperately, recklessly allowing the hope free rein inside her, recognizing that the only other times she had felt such heat and excitement in her blood were when he was near. They must be getting closer to him, and it was all Emma could do not to break into a run.

A chilly gust of air ghosted over her arm, and she shivered involuntarily, turning to the side for the source of the draft and noticing a fissure that opened into a nearly hidden alcove off the main part of their underground cavern. With that same rush of intuition and tingling thrill, Emma turned aside and squeezed through the gap in the solid rock wall. Henry and Regina pressed in close behind her when she hesitated, trying to squint through the darkness. Something had called to her, but she didn't see anything except a dark, empty room of stone walls and floors at first, until Regina finally burst out in exasperation, "For pity sakes, must I do everything?!" With a flourish, she conjured orbs of fire in each hand, illuminating the area before them enough to discern shadowy shapes, and then flung the lights toward torches they could now glimpse over their heads in sconces placed all around the strange dim niche off the larger cave.

Emma had just begun to snap back at Regina, when her voice stopped in her throat on a sharp gasp at the startling sight before her. At the far end of the space, near the back wall, flickering light glinted off the steel gray metal of a thick chain trailing from a crank to the side of the ceiling, then down to manacles which held pale wrist and forearm locked together and extended over the head of a person slumped on their knees. Emma's heart stuttered in fear and vicarious pain, immediately recognizing the motionless, silent, almost lifeless form before them. Only a few seconds' glimpse at the battering of bruises and scars on the pale expanse of his bared back were all she could stand. Without taking time to worry whether or not it would work, she waved her hand desperately through the air, dissolving the chain to nothingness. With what had been stretching him and holding his body unnaturally upright gone, Killian fell prone on the hard rock floor with a soft, insensate groan escaping his mouth.

Dashing wildly to his side, Emma gathered Killian's limp form in her arms, holding him close as best she could, smoothing her trembling hands through his coarse, shaggy black hair and over his chilled, clammy skin, aching to ease his pain. She wasn't expecting to feel Henry pressed up against her side worriedly and reaching out to touch her pirate's arm with gentle concern, nor for him to whisper "Killian? Can you hear us?" She could sense Regina's presence close at their backs as well, standing guard. But when she grumbled, "What happened to you, Guyliner? Mouth off to the Lord of the Dead himself?" Emma was surprised to hear the quaver of emotion behind the Mayor's retort as well, and she knew that Regina was nearly as rattled by the state of their pirate as she was herself. The fact that he had clearly been hidden away didn't help her state of mind. How long had he been held there like that? It was as though he’d been hidden where anyone who might venture into those depths would pass by him unaware and leave him to his misery.

She gathered Killian even closer to her, and was just bending her forehead to rest against his when he jerked awake unexpectedly, snapping back to consciousness with a confused panic, and though clearly weakened and in pain, he flung himself away from her with terrified force, scrabbling backward blindly.

His voice was hoarse when it rang out and echoed back against the close walls and low ceiling, cracking with fear and mistrust, raw from what Emma feared might have been days crying out in hopeless despair and agony as he languished in torment, thinking that he would never be found. Killian's harsh, broken words lashed her heart like a whip, making her as painfully desperate as he when he howled, "Back, Demon! Stop tormenting me! Take any form you wish…but…not hers! Please…no more!"

Emma tried to shush him, begged him to truly see her as she brushed a hand down his stubbled jaw, her heart feeling new pangs of guilt and regret at the sight of the ages-old scar that had always dashingly graced his cheek bleeding again as though it had been freshly carved anew into his skin. Were all of the weals, cuts, and bruises adorning his scarred chest and back old, once-healed wounds returned to livid intensity by the insidious nature of this place and the unfinished business it deemed Killian Jones to have?

Before she could utter anything else, he cried out again, his voice mere shards of its usual deep, smooth timbre. "No! Not Emma! You are not her! Leave me! Leave me!"

When he flinched from her touch yet again, it felt as though the Dark One dagger itself had been stabbed into her breast. Emma wanted to curl up beside him and weep – hopelessness, fear, concern, and love welling up uncontrollably within at the thought that she had found him, but he might be too far gone to bring back. She steeled herself to speak to him once more in soft, pleading tones as she swept her hand across his brow, "Killian, please…look at me. It is Emma. I promise, it's me. I'm here…"

Fear darted across his face for several more taut, charged moments, looking so strange on one who had always met challenges and danger head-on, an arched brow and a dark retort for any man, beast, or monster unwise enough to think he would back down. Then, after several tense, breathlessly waiting seconds, it was as though a cloud passed over his countenance and vanished again, the shade blinding him seemed to fall from his eyes and recognition dawned as he stared at her, drinking in her face, desperate to believe. "Swan?" he whispered, voice soft and awed though rough with ill use, finally daring to hope. A trembling hand reached out toward her face, and she quickly bent to lean her cheek against his palm, as needy for his touch as he was to make sure she was real. "Emma…Love…is it really you? And H-Henry? …Lad, you're here as well?"

"Of course," Henry assured, grinning rakishly in a way Emma knew he must have picked up from Killian. Though his eyes were glassy, Henry answered this man he'd come to look up to with assurance, "Think I'd risk being deprived of a dashing rescue, Captain?"

Her love grinned back at her son crookedly, but said no more, still somewhat overcome by Henry's devotion.

Regina cleared her throat from where she stood just behind them, keeping a wary eye on the entrance. It brought a much-needed measure of levity to the trio on the floor when she grumbled, "No need to acknowledge my presence, Pirate. I simply followed them down here for my health. Brimstone and sulfur do wonders for the skin, you know."

Killian inclined his head slightly in a semblance of the mocking bow he often gave her when they squabbled. "Why, of course, your Majesty," he replied with a knowing wink, "but it is lovely to see you all the same."

The queen huffed, but gave him the tiniest quirk of her red lips in a begrudging smile.

Emma did not miss the way her love winced at even the smallest of offhand movements, but she couldn't look him over properly or try to heal any of his wounds now. They needed to get him out of his prison, first and foremost. She thought about trying to transport them all from the dungeon to the lake shore instantly with her magic, but discarded the idea almost as quickly as it came to her, knowing her powers had been behaving too unpredictably in the depths of the Underworld to be sure of where they might end up. The same concern kept her from asking Regina to move them, or – she assumed – from the queen's offering. She began to attempt standing again, ready to pull Killian up with her. "Come on, let's – "

Just as Killian spoke once more, his mind working through the situation quickly as he became more aware, and already worried for their safety, "Wh-what are all of you doing here? You can't be caught here. I d-don't want you to be trapped as well."

"Too bad," Emma shook her head, finally regaining her feet and, with Henry's help, easing him to stand as well between them. Killian was wobbly and leaning on her more than she would have liked, but then, after being held in one position for so long, she knew his limbs must be working their way back to life, beyond the injuries which must also be draining his strength. "We're not leaving without you. You've already been the hero…" here she had to swallow hard, her eyes tearing up as she remembered him dying in her arms. "Now, let me be the Savior and bring you home where you really belong."

Those devastating blue eyes bore into hers with such intensity, burning with the ardor of his next words. "Emma…Love…I knew the sacrifice I was making. This is where I belong now…what I deserve…and if the rest of you are safe…. Please, there must be a terrible price for this, and … and I won't have you paying it."

Despite his weakened state and the fervent emotion trembling within the words, his resolve was clear. Emma knew she could not fail to heed him again – not this time – but she also needed him to see that she would not be happy, would not be safe, when he suffered here alone for both their mistakes, his noble sacrifice cheapened by Gold's treachery. It wasn't right; it wasn't enough for her. She didn't have a home without him. Yet, she had to allow him this choice; she couldn't take that right away a second time. Drawing in a deep breath, she assured him, "We have a way to bring you back, one that will work. The rest of us will be fine." She paused, met his eyes hopefully, took a deep breath, and asked, "Killian, don't worry about me or anyone else; just answer me honestly: Do you want to come back with us?"

He wet his lips, obviously struggling with emotion and desire versus his sense of duty and lingering guilt. Holding her gaze, his next words came out so raw and vulnerable that they scraped across her heart, tearing loose pieces that she had already given to him. "Aye, Swan, I would wish that more than anything. You must know that. But…I do not wish anyone else to be punished or imprisoned here in my stead…if there is even a chance that could happen…"

"No, Killian," she interrupted, shaking her head gently as she brushed an unruly shock of black hair off his forehead lovingly. "You don't understand. We won't leave anyone behind. This will work." She bit her lower lip, trying to peer right into his soul, the way he had so often done with her. "Trust me?" she asked then, everything they had risked and all her future happiness riding on his answer.

"Aye, Love, I do," he swore, bringing the hand he clutched tightly in his up to clumsily brush his lips over her knuckles, "and I always will."

"Good," she said simply, a small smile gracing her mouth, and then his face as well, as they both remembered how that very response from her had sustained and given him hope through a full year of obstacles and doubts until they had been reunited once before.

Turning to Regina, Emma knew she couldn't hesitate, knew Killian would start protesting again if he figured out what she planned to do – no matter how sure she was that it would work. Shooting Henry a quick, reassuring smile, she squared her shoulders and gave the other woman a curt nod, "Let's do this," she affirmed.

Regina didn't waste a second, gripping Emma's upper arm to keep her steady and plunging a hand into her chest. Emma couldn't stop a gasp at the jarring invasion and strange sense of disconnect she felt when the formerly evil queen withdrew her hand, Emma's slightly battered, partly scabbed in gray, but mostly glowing, red heart within her grasp.

"No!" Killian cried out aghast, only knowing that any heart he had seen taken from a chest had been squeezed in nightmarish torment. "What are you doing!?" he lurched forward, fruitlessly aiming to stop her, but Henry clung to his arm determinedly from where he stood on the pirate's other side helping to keep him upright.

"Killian," Henry pleaded, trying to offer comfort even though his voice quavered too. "It's okay. She's not going to crush it. Emma wanted her to do this…Look!" Henry knew there was still a risk; splitting a heart had worked for his gramps and grandma, and he knew his mom and Killian loved each other deeply, but they didn't have any guarantee.

Emma slumped forward, unaware, and though she wasn't heavy, with his own injuries and weakness, it nearly brought Killian down too. Awkwardly, he took what strength he had left to untangle their fingers and wrap his arm around her, drawing Emma to his side though it pained the open gashes on his torso, and letting her head come to rest on his shoulder.

When he turned back to Regina, her gaze was intent on the heart in her hand, as concerned as he had ever seen the proud royal. Determinedly, she worked at the organ until, to all of their intense relief, it split down the middle and she reached forward to press half of it into each of their chests.

"Ready, Captain?" she asked, voice taut and nervous, though he knew she would never say so.

He gave her a nod, meeting her eyes fiercely before letting his gaze return to Emma's soft, lax, but still lovely, face. In the next instant, he drew a fuller, more rejuvenating breath than he had taken since falling on the shores of the lake in Storybrooke. There was still the odd sensation of a hand in his chest, but a moment more and that was gone too as Regina pulled back, leaving a half of his love's heart within his body.

Emma surfaced to consciousness with a similar heaving breath, blinking as her light once more suffused her cheeks, and her eyes regained their lively sparkle. "Are we okay?" she asked blearily, and then more fervently, "Did it work?!"

"It would seem so," Regina said drily, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as if to say, 'You're alive and speaking to me, aren't you?', but she spared a cautious, genuine smile for the savior and Emma could sense the relief behind the harsh veneer. "Now," Regina continued, "let's not wait around to see what else can go wrong. It's time we were home." With a wave of her hand, clearly having deemed the risk worth it, and a swirl of purple smoke, they were all standing with a jolt on the shore of Hades' realm, right next to the boat which had brought them from Storybrooke.

Looking around in surprise as he reoriented himself, Killian already felt some of his lost strength and vigor returning to him, and he marveled at the power and love for him that must have been held within Emma's heart to pull this off so quickly and so well. Henry placed a hand on his hook's brace, drawing his attention with a grin while pointing out fast-approaching figures in the near distance.

Squinting, Killian could see Dave, Mary Margaret, and Robin coming toward them at a run, and was touched and humbled once more to think that all of these people would venture to the very depths of Hell for the likes of him. Once the rest of their rescue party had reached them at the water's edge – minus Gold, whom no one seemed inclined to worry about – Robin greeted him with an exuberant cry of welcome, while Dave clapped him on the shoulder firmly, and Mary Margaret – to Killian's complete and utter astonishment – flung her arms around him in a joyful, maternal hug.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Milady," Killian managed, almost embarrassed at such a greeting from a woman who at best had always seemed unsure about him as a suitor for her daughter.

The dark-haired royal pulled back with a watery smile, but not before pausing to whisper in his ear, "We needed to get you back, Killian. I don't think I could have stood to watch Emma in that state any longer. She was … broken …without you."

The pirate dipped his head, hiding a swell of emotion at her words, and even when he raised his face once more, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears he sniffed back conspicuously.

"Well," Robin called out, breaking into the thoughts of all their gathered group, bow over his shoulder and fingers once again laced with Regina's, "shall we go?"

"Not so fast, Archer," a silky voice rang out, stopping all of them in their tracks, just as they had been ready to step into the boat pointed home. "I do believe you're planning to steal something – or should I say someone? – who belongs to me."

The unassuming gentleman in a sleek, tailored suit who strutted toward them over the dead, brown grass before the lake, didn't look like much of a threat, but none of them were taken in by his calm, almost jovial manner, nor his pleased, oily smile. "Don't listen to him," Regina ordered tersely, urging Henry, Robin. Snow, and David into the boat ahead of her as planned. "He can't stop us from leaving. We aren't dead, and therefore we aren't part of his domain."

Hades, as Emma realized the man must be, moved ever closer and shook his head like a disappointed parent would at a child who refused to obey. "Ah," he answered smoothly, "but I fear one of you is indeed under my dominion. Breathed his last on these very shores, in fact."

Emma stepped just slightly in front of Killian, wavering slightly as she still recovered from aftereffects of losing part of a vital organ. Yet, she looked as fierce and defiant as she ever had; red jacket standing out against her stark, dull surroundings and a glow emanating from her as she stared down the ruler of the Underworld himself. "You can't have him," she growled through gritted teeth.

Even as Killian feared for her safety, knowing all too well what this seeming "gentleman" and his demons could do, he couldn't deny that his Swan was glorious – a sight to behold.

Emma motioned behind her for Regina to get in the boat as well and take Killian with her. The regal balked, a quick, "Emma, are you sure about…" escaping, but she was cut off with a jerky nod and set jaw, and she did as the Savior asked, pulling Killian forcibly after her.

"Admirable determination, my dear," Hades taunted, "but you might as well admit defeat. I am well acquainted with this pirate, all that brave stoicism mixed with his massive self-loathing for his past wrongs makes a nice break for me from eons of monotonous sniveling, pleading beggars for mercy. Fresh entertainment playing with someone who can endure so much pain, it's quite addictive, you see. Not to mention… I've been alerted to your little scheme to steal my new plaything. It won't work. Even if I were inclined to release one of my subjects, it isn't possible. He died, he is one of mine now, and there is not a thing you can do about it."

A second shadowy figure emerged from the surrounding mist and darkness, and as the person came to stand just at Hades' elbow, Emma recognized Gold, an insidious smile on his smug, self-satisfied face. "Miss me, Dearies?" he cackled ominously. Then his gleaming gaze narrowed as it fell on Emma. "I did warn you not to test me, Miss Swan," he stated with chilling finality, a cunning glint casting frightening light in his eyes. "Thanks to my early warning, our temporary host has promised me that he will make sure our near-escapee finds his stay even more unpleasant from now on, and has given me his word to keep you as well, far away from my Belle, who will have no idea what I've done, and right here with him to magnify the punishment for you both. A simple memory wipe on the rest of you meddlesome fools who insist on playing heroes, and I shall finally have my happy ending."

Emma heard the scuffling of Killian trying to fight his way out of Regina's and Robin's grasps to get back to her. "You'll do no such thing, Crocodile!" he was railing, as she could hear Snow gasp in shock and horror, and Henry and her father's yells of anger and dismay. All of that was drowned out though by the roaring in her ears and the intense desire she had to throttle the cowardly pawnbroker with her bare hands. Of course he would go and try to get in good with the Devil himself to double cross them! As if making Killian's sacrifice to destroy the darkness void for his own gain hadn't been terrible enough! The rage that overcame her with knowing that these two monstrous fiends could be so blasé about the torment they wanted to put Killian through, at seeing for herself all they had already done to the man she loved, was vibrating through her being and she sensed her magic about to explode uncontrollably, blindly. Still, she narrowed her eyes, determined not to give anything away to the insidious crocodile. She understood now why Killian's nickname for his foe had always been so apt – reptilian, grasping, clawing, and willing to do anything to save his own leathery hide and secure his own self-interests, despite who else might be hurt along the way. She quickly turned her focus back to Hades though. No matter how badly she wanted to strike Gold down, this fallen deity was the one with the real power in the Underworld.

"You know," Hades taunted, a mocking pout of fake sympathy on his face, "it really is quite tragic, Savior. You seem to be able to save everyone but the ones you care for most. Love can do much, but even where there is love…dead is still dead."

Emma was backed right up to the edge of the water, her heels actually touching the side of their little boat as it rocked on the dark, uneasy tide. Hades stood practically nose to nose with her, but she wouldn't give in. Instead, she nodded toward Gold. "We'll see about that," she hissed, forcing bravado she only partially felt, "but you might want to question whether your new partner has told you everything."

With that, she stepped backwards into the boat, and Charon began to row away, no other option, his mindless task ingrained in his being until the end of time.

Hades raised a hand, and some red bolt of radiating power shot toward them, but it hit an invisible barrier none of them could see, ricocheted off the wooden boat's side, and went barreling back, knocking the Devil and the Dark One flat on their backs on the shore. Emma felt a pang in her chest like a plucked guitar string vibrating, and everything in her vision went hazy. She staggered, seeing less and less as she heard them all talking to her, around her, anxiously. She had just enough sight and awareness left to reassure herself that they were still moving toward home, and then it all faded away as she fell back into Killian's – and her family's – arms.

~~~~CS~~~~~CS~~~~CS~~~~CS~~~

The following afternoon…

Emma Swan blinks her eyes against the gentle sunshine filtering in warm, yellow stripes through the plain white curtains she hung in the Captain's quarters of Killian's ship. Yawning and stretching languidly, she can't help the grin which spreads slowly and happily across her face upon realizing just where she is and in whose arms she has been resting. They made it home again – all of them – safe and sound, and she is snuggled up with her pirate in his bunk. Sitting up just a bit to gaze down at him affectionately, honestly enjoying the view, and able to see now that they are in the land of the living he already has more color and his scars have once again begun to fade, Emma trails her hand along his chest, playfully running her fingers through the coarse hair covering his muscled torso, unable to stop staring at the man she literally went to Hell and back to find. The half a heart they now share swells with love until it seems to overflow, and Emma wriggles back into Killian's warm embrace, while he continues to sleep – she hopes peacefully. Even deep in slumber, Killian gathers her closer to his side tenderly with the arm draped over her hip and mumbles something she can't quite make out against the warm skin of her neck at the collar of her sweater.

His brow furrows, and she aches to soothe him, to assure him that they are together again and all will be well. She knows that things won't stay peaceful in their little town for long, nor can she keep him from the nightmares and remembrances of the ordeal he has been through. Still, she places a kiss to his brow and murmurs, "Shh…rest, Killian," as she brushes back the dark fringe of his hair.

The last day and night are an exhausted, emotional blur before Emma's eyes as she lies back down and tries to return to rest with her pirate. She remembers the traumatic details of finding Killian in that stone dungeon and his ancient scars and emotional pains brought to fresh life upon his skin, how sapped and hopeless he had been – to the point that he had seemed unable to acknowledge they had come after him. She remembers Regina splitting her heart, and all of them standing of the shores of the lake as Hades tried to stop them from returning to the world of the living with her sailor. Beyond that though… the boat ride back, how she had ended up here with Killian, cozily wrapped in his embrace... it is all a misty jumble in her mind. She can bring back snatches of her parents', Henry's, and even Regina's and Robin's voices, discussing what to do once they reached town, how they had all progressed while they were split up in the Underworld, and if she were truly okay, but none of it comes into clear focus for her. She has the vague, lingering suspicion that Killian must have carried her to his ship, rather than the house she'd taken over as the Dark One, or her parents' loft, over any other ideas or suggestions, and that the others must have decided that he knew best and left the two of them alone to heal together.

With a sigh, she forces her eyes to the gash made by Excalibur still blatantly visible on his neck, while Killian remains unaware. Though it is no longer ragged and draining his lifeblood before her very eyes, Emma knows that this wound will never completely fade. In some way, this particular scar will always be upon his skin, reminding her of when it all went wrong, how horribly she failed him. Her fingers tremble as she traces the abraded skin, and she blinks back her tears quickly. Not, however, before a couple of them escape and pool on the warm skin in the hollow of his collarbone.

Rousing, Killian's eyes blink open to find her awake and studying him sadly, her eyes welling with tears and her hands clutching his shoulders as though afraid he will be taken from her again. "What is it, Love?" he murmurs, smoothing his hand through her hair and snugging his hookless bare wrist against the thick wool sweater at her back, pulling her impossibly closer still. "What's happened?"

She shakes her head, a breath wet with choked back sobs huffing out of her chest. "Nothing, Killian, I just…" she traces her fingers lightly over the shell of his ear, grinning at how the top curve comes almost to a bit of a point. In spite of her jumbled feelings and the fact that she is still struggling to get her words out, she cannot help but marvel at each tiny wonder that make up her True Love. "You'll always have those two new scars…and it's….it's my fault…"

"Oh, Emma…" Killian breathes in soft, stunned understanding, his eyes infinitely kind and unfailingly full of love. "You’ve more than made it right. When I blamed you, I was nothing but the worst version of myself. Do not carry those words, nor that guilt, any longer, Swan." He sighs, sensing that she is still upset and punishing herself, and briefly rests his chin atop the soft golden hair at the crown of her head. Gathering a bit more nerve, he adds gruffly, "That you were so desperate to keep me with you…" he pauses to wet his lips, not wanting his voice to waiver or to make her doubt, "While I detested losing control of myself… I also never thought to be so loved."

Emma's tears do begin to escape her at that, though she can't utter any sort of response. Leaning up to rest her forehead against his, wanting only to have him see in her eyes that he is loved now, more than either of them would have once felt possible, more than either of them could have ever known.

"You entered into the very depths of Hell to fetch me back to your side, Emma. You walked amidst my demons and my nightmares of loved ones I have lost and the horrible things I have done, and you pulled me out into the light once again. You are quite literally my heart now, and I never wish to be parted from you."

"If I have my way, you never will be," Emma vows fervently against his lips in response, just before fusing their mouths in a tender kiss that begins to ease the pain that wounds and separation had wrought. Both are quiet then, at peace wrapped in each other's arms. Swearing to never be torn apart again; they are happy, and they are home.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @justanother-unluckysoul @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @thislassishooked @cocohook38 @mie779

#self promo sunday #ouat 5b spec fic #ouat canon divergent ff #cs one shot #take me home to your arms #killian whump #hurt comfort

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retrogamingtrickster · 11 months ago

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Oh OK got any hcs about if torch man was raised by the megaman 2 robot masters?

Hmmm—this might be a little messy since I never got an ask like this before, but I like a challenge!!!! *rubs hands* alright here we go!! :P

Also keep in mind that this post will probably not be as formal grammatically (which I’ve realized as I’ve been writing this), so sorry in advance if the way some of these headcanons are sound cringy ._.

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

-Okay so. Torch man when he was younger, I feel like this would be WAY before he made up torch jutsu. So obviously I imagine young Torch being VERRRY hyperactive XDD (I thought about this—and I just now realized the only way that the group from MM11 or MM2 could co exist is them being from—..different generations (obviously, they’re from different games down the line—). So to me that’s how young Torch and the MM2 rms could be in the same timeline.

-Also how the group would find him AFTER the main events of MM2 (getting kidnapped, reprogrammed, then returned to Light, etc.) with Doctor Light making a discovery that an unknown bot was discovered right after Wily started wrecking havoc; not being aware it was young Torch man until uhh..he came back and found his lab in flames ^^;

-So each RM in this lineup would take turns watching over him once they got back to normal, trying to raise the bot in their own ways; all the while having to keep him in secret so Wily wouldn’t find him.

-I feel like Flash man would want to distance himself from Torch man just because he was a hyperactive bot, yet over time he’d eventually grow to care for him quite a lot!! (Even though he got made fun of for being bald ^^;)

-The first time Air man had to watch over Torch..Air man forgot about him as he tried taking him to the park. He lost him after getting caught up in his own reflection at the pond. After setting the surrounding trees ablaze, Air man wasn’t allowed to watch over him by himself since ^^;

-To me each group of robots that are based on an element would already KIND of know each other? That would be the case with Torch and Heat man. Many would joke that their personalities have been swapped?? (With Heat being laid back, and vice versa—) but the two would already have somewhat of a close bond, thus the two being around each other a LOT more than the others!!

-Bubble man…hoo boy was Heat man especially scared of Torch going near him— (not because of how he acts but rather bubble man’s power being Heat’s weakness).

-Dash man would probably encourage Torches out of control behavior. He’s not tasked with watching over him much either due to his forgetfulness (this is the guy that would be trying to discipline him one minute and then immediately proceeds to do the EXACT thing he told Torch not to do the next—)

-The group was honestly scared of Torch being around Metal man, solely from what they hear about him at his job. So he wasn’t allowed to watch over him much either—

-Crash man is actually one of the more reliable ones, having to do research about caring for children prior to caring for him. It wasn’t after Torch was a little older that he’d start noticing Crashes mood swings.

-Wood man would most likely be the one to teach the idea of Torch Jutsu to him—cuz..well, he’d keep burning down the forest every time it was his turn to watch over him. I think Wood man would have a space where he would take time to collect his thoughts..

-And over the years he’s been able to calm his flaming outbursts (they happen less frequently), even earning himself a job in fire safety thanks to Wood Man! (The camp counselors were a bit iffy on the idea at first BECAUSE of being a fire themed bot—but we’re actually surprised by his discipline!!)

-So other than the minor setbacks the group had faced early on with him, they’ve done a good job at raising Torch man!

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

My apologies again if this was a little short (or unusually formatted), but I hope you enjoy these headcanons!! The 11 RMs are my personal favorite to write about, so thank you for the ask!! ^^

(Also I’m trying to keep the Megaman train alive so if anyone else wants to send me requests for headcanons, then don’t hesitate to ask!! ^^)

#megaman #admin asks #megaman 11 #Megaman 2 #Torch man #wood man #air man #Bubble man #Heat man #Metal man #megaman headcanons #headcanon requests #flash man #dash man #crash man #megaman 11 headcanons #Megaman 2 headcanons #mega man

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chaoticgoodlawyerwrites · 1 year ago

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Preview of Ch 11 of HSY

Hey folks! Long preview today because this chapter is going to be LONG and I have a ways to go, still. It's the last main one for the story, with Chapter 12 really an epilogue. There are so far two extras for this story, one being 2moshang and the other being a smutty 2bingqiu scene. In any case, here's a sneak peak and I hope you enjoy!

---

Surprisingly, the first words out of his friend’s mouth were directed at Bingdi. “Welcome back, Your Royal Highness.”

If it surprised Bingdi, he didn’t show it. “Thank you, Shang-shishu. “Shizun said you were in need of aid…?”

Both Mobei-Juns tensed at that and Shang Qinghua reached out to pat both of their hands automatically while loosing a nervous laugh. “Not as such. The crisis has passed and we’ve managed to work out a few things already. I was kind of panicked when I left my first messages for Shen-shixiong, but that was almost a full day ago. A lot can happen in a day.”

Shen Qingqiu thought back over his last 24 hours and heartily agreed. “Speaking of which.” Shen Qingqiu looked directly at the Mobei-Jun of this world and bowed as much as he could from a setting position. Luo Bingge hissed at this show of deference, but he ignored him. “Qinghua, Mobei-Jun of this world, this master offers his apologies for not attending his Second Husband’s actions more closely. You, at the very least, should have been warned of an impending visitor, and this master is sorry for your suffering over his lapse. It shall not happen again.”

“Qingqiu!” Luo Bingge gasped.

“Bingge,” he hissed. “You didn’t tell me because you knew it would upset me.”

“It was a condition of securing Mobei-Jun’s help in reaching you safely."

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t buying it. He looked at the Original Mobei-Jun and said, “Greetings, Mobei-Jun. We missed you at court today.”

Finally acknowledged, the man’s eyes found Shen Qingqiu’s as he bowed low in his seat. “This Mobei greets Empress Shen.”

“Rise. Tell me,” he said, channeling his prissiest, bitchiest voice. “How were you aware that my friend, Shang Qinghua, existed as himself in this world?”

“This Mobei does not understand the question, Empress.” There was no sign of nervousness on his face or in his voice, but he would be feeling it if he was smart.

“You killed your world’s Shang Qinghua after a betrayal,” Shen Qingqiu said. “How did you know my friend would be different enough to seek for a different purpose?”

The Original Mobei-Jun hesitated for a moment before he said, “Junshang allowed this one to accompany him on one of his invisible visits to Empress Shen’s side while he knew Qinghua would be with him. It was obvious by how he acted that he and the betrayer were not the same person.”

“And before that?”

“Empress?”

“I’m not stupid, Mobei,” Shen Qingqiu said, his demeanor going as cold and cutting as his kingdom. “My husband just said that you meeting Qinghua was a condition of your aid in the first place.”

“Empress Shen, Junshang initially offered to take this Mobei to a man who could be his queen. If this Mobei recalls correctly, he did not share this identity until the date previously mentioned, at which point this Mobei confirmed that Qinghua was an acceptable Consort.”

“I see.” Shen Qingqiu said, cutting his eyes over to a Luo Bingge who had gone very, very still. Yeah, you bet your ass you’re in trouble. “If I may, what made you think my friend would be open to your advances? He has been wearing the Pendant of the Bride of the North for years, before my first marriage, even. You, of anyone, would know that he was taken.”

The Original Mobei-Jun frowned a little but said after a moment, “He did not speak like the Shang Qinghua I knew once. He wore the Pendant this Lord thought would never leave his treasury casually, with the ease of familiarity. And, at the time of our visit, he was complaining… at length at certain unsatisfied needs. This Mobei thought it would be a simple task to present himself as a demon who would provide everything to him.”

Well, shit. Shang Qinghua went bright red and quickly hid his face in his hands while his mate went paler than usual and stiff as a board. He didn’t know if he could say anything to make that better, so he didn’t try to.

“Thank you for your directness,” Shen Qingqiu said normally. “In light of the unorthodox situation before us, as your Empress I make the following judgment: unless in direct, proportional self-defense or defense of Shang Qinghua or his children, you are forbidden from physically or energetically harming the Mobei-Jun of this world without his consent. By this, I mean actual harm, not sparing or that kind of thing. Beyond that, your relationship is your own.”

“Yes, Empress Shen,” he said, bowing again.

He looked back at Shang Qinghua, who still hadn’t recovered from being outed as horny on main. “You said you all had the rest handled?”

“Yeah. Thanks, bro.” Shang Qinghua bobbed in what passed as a bow between them but probably just looked like nonsense to the others. Then he froze and looked up. “Wait. What was that about children?”

Both Mobei-Juns turned to stare directly at Shang Qinghua. “Just thinking ahead, Airplane.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Out of the two of us, the only one who’s mentioned wanting babies is you! Though I would want our kids to grow up together… not the point! Why my kids? They’re the same person; all my kids are their kids… WAIT!”

Shang Qinghua stood on his knees suddenly, embarrassment forgotten and eyes wide.

“Airplane–”

“Don’t Airplane me, you fertile Myrtle!!” Shang Qinghua shouted in English. “You’re pregnant already!!”

…was it really that obvious?

“...”

“Holy fuck, congratula– wait. Oh, oh this got complicated. Do they know?”

Shen Qingqiu sighed and rubbed at his temple. “They know and had a fight over it because the youngest thought the elder had forced it on me. I did have a panic attack when I found out, so he had his reasons. But they figured their shit out and I will accept your congratulations and secrecy.”

“Of course! Whatever you need!” Shang Qinghua stood and scurried over to Shen Qingqiu’s side and basically glomped him. He did a quick switch back to English to say, “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“Thanks, bro,” he said, awkwardly hugging him back while being very aware that four very powerful demons were staring at them. He cleared his throat and said, “My lords Mobei, your discretion in this matter is greatly appreciated. The imperial family already is aware and are making happy preparations.”

Both of their expressions went to blatant shock (mild widening of their eyes) before they bowed to him.

“Sect Leader Shen.”

“Empress Shen.”

Shang Qinghua then pulled away abruptly and said, “Wait, how does co-parenting across dimensions work? Asking for a friend.”

#in these stories how do people differentiate the older and younger Mobei's #asking for a friend

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quietrebelsofgenesis · 5 months ago

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I want to apologize in advance for this long post regarding my new oil pastel painting, which I’m calling Inner Child/Naive Optimism. Then again, if you know me, you know I have a habit of making long posts. But if you’ll bear with me, I want to explain why this may be my most important artwork yet. Yeah, yeah, I know. Spoken like a true pretentious artist.

I was born in 1988. Although I love 1980s pop culture, I don’t remember anything about the ‘80s. But what I DO remember, and miss terribly, is growing up in the 1990s. Obviously, the earlier the decade, the harder it is to remember things that happened. But if there’s one thing that’s definitely lingered in my memory, it’s the music.

Yes, there are many songs (including songs from the ‘90s) that I didn’t really come to appreciate till later in life. But there are many that when I heard them immediately made an impression that lasts to this day. Neither this post, nor this painting, have anything to do with any specific song.

But when I compare the output of music/culture from the 90s to music that came out after, I remember it reflected an overwhelming sense of hope for the future. Yes, there was grunge, and darker, heavier styles of music. But that wasn’t what I was listening to at the time. So when I daydreamed of the future, especially when listening to certain songs, I felt hopeful.

Then there’s the Y2K aesthetic of the late ‘90s and early 2000s. The internet was growing in popularity. I didn’t start using the internet till my dad purchased a computer in 1999. I remembered how exciting it was to search the net for anything you wanted. Unfortunately, because internet was dial-up, you couldn’t use the home phone at the same time you were using the internet.

Anyway, technology was rapidly (although not as rapidly as recent years) changing society, or was on the verge of it. One of the things that’s lingered in my mind over the years is the color schemes of the Y2K aesthetic….especially the blues, silvers, grays…..lots of metallics and translucent materials. Does anyone remember the colorful Macintosh computers that came out? I wanted one so badly. Never got one.

I’m of course aware that there was much inequality and injustice back then as there always has been. But at the time, I was a kid daydreaming of the future. What would middle school and high school be like? What clubs would I join? (A few.) What sports would I play? (None.) What college would I go to? What would I major in? What amazing career would I have? Where would I live? Would I get to travel around the country? Around the world? The possibilities seemed endless. Better days lay ahead. Or so I thought.

I turned 13 in 2001. I’m one of those people that views history through two periods: pre-9/11 and post-9/11. I remember being in school when the attacks happened. But before that happened, my mother lost her job and had an intense breakdown. That summer was…..not great. That’s when her mental illness took hold. As time passed and other terrible things happened, I realized that that summer was the beginning of a gradual decline. I struggled, but I hadn’t given up hope. I won’t go into the details of life after high school right now, but needless to say, things got worse. And my hope for the future rapidly diminished.

At 36 years old, a time when I used to think I would have things figured out and have a great life, I have never been more clueless. Nor so deprived of hope. But I guess I’m stubborn. Because although my childhood is long gone and will never come back, I refuse to let my inner child die. She’s been heartbroken, devastated, betrayed by the world….or rather, by the society that runs the world. By people who she is, or was, close to. Reality didn’t just slap her in the face. Reality beat her within an inch of her life. And yet, somehow, she is still here. Even at the times when her adult self doesn’t want to be here, she is present.

So I took my Sennelier and Caran D’Ache oil pastels and made a neurographic painting featuring the color scheme that was part of my childhood. I want my childhood back, but I know I’ll never get it. What I’m hoping will be more attainable is getting back my hope for the future. But even that seems damn near impossible. Learning about the injustices of the world, as well as people’s willingness to sweep them under the rug and pretend those things have nothing to do with them, has greatly impacted my perception of the world. And not in a great way.

But as clueless and depressed as I am, I can’t give up just yet. There has to be something better. There has to be a way to make at least one of my inner child’s dreams come true. She/I didn’t go through all this shit over the years for nothing! Perhaps that’s naive optimism. But I’m not giving it up for anybody.

#art #oil pastel #painting #color #1990s #90's #y2k #y2k aesthetic #hope #future #personal

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iliveforthestars · 2 years ago

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[ Pilot - Reversed ]

Nails dug into Sloane’s palms as she faced the people that were talking to her. The last time she was with them, she wanted to slap both of them and tell them to fuck off but she was only sixteen at the time and she had Kelsey with her. She hadn’t known why her uncle tolerated them. They weren’t nice people at all.

“You know, Sloane, we were really worried for a while there that whoever targeted your family would come back once they realized you and little Kelsey had survived,” this man’s voice was positively grating on her nerves.

“Well thank the gods they didn’t,” she managed to say through pursed lips. This man was unbelievable. Did he not realize what he was saying or was just being cruel on purpose? Sloane would go with the latter.

“Yes, you and Kelsey and Roman have been doing so well, we’re so glad,” the wife kicked in and her tone was so fake that even the nicest person on the planet wouldn’t believe her fake sincerity or that smile painted on her lips.

“Thank you so much for that, truly, we appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me, I have work-”

“I mean, we always thought it had been deals under the table gone wrong. It isn’t uncommon in politics to advance one’s career to do that. That isn’t to say that Viktor was dirty or corrupt, of course,” the man continued and this is how she knew that he knew what he was doing. “Just how the family was targeted dear, and still all these years and the killer hasn’t been found,” the wife continued their attack on Sloane, who was trying to keep it together.

She couldn’t and wouldn’t make a scene. This is exactly what these two were after, she was aware. Her family still had great pull in the political world. That much was evident by how people still came to her uncle for advice, still sought him out for counsel and listened to him. It wasn’t as if it was secret that Sloane Daniels had a temper with an extremely small fuse.

She wanted to say something, anything but her mouth was closed shut. Her father had been an amazing person, not just a great husband and father but an outstanding human being who cared for others. Her father had been a good man. Even better politician. He had helped so many people who needed it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Miller, how wonderful you are here tonight,” Eric’s voice pulls Sloane out of her thoughts and she watches him give the Millers a brilliant and charming smile but his eyes are cold. “However, it is best if you two never speak ill about Viktor Daniels and his family ever again. You will apologize to his daughter, Sloane,” then he leaned in closer and whispered something into their ears she could not hear.

When they turned to Sloane, they loudly apologize for talking about her father and swore to never do it again before announcing that they were having trouble in bed, among other embarrassing things they had done. The papers would have a field day the next day, she was sure.

“Eric!”

The blond vampire could only smirk at her as Sloane took his hand and led him out of the place as people listened to the Millers confessing. She really hoped they wouldn’t remember that Eric glamoured them or anything. Not that he couldn’t handle himself, she jut didn’t want to cause trouble for him.

Eric looked over at Sloane once they were out of the place, she looked less tense, which made glamouring those two idiots worth it but his gaze fell to their hands. The sight of that made the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.

“Sloane-”

“I had to put up with that ever since that night, you know? People bad-mouthing my parents, especially my dad. Calling him a dirty politician, a Russian rat who probably spied on the country and got what he deserved. I heard it all, every single thing. My uncle tried to shield me but the kids of other politicians would repeat to me at school. It’s why I used to bloody my fists. I know they’re just words and that they weren’t true but it still hurt,” she confessed softly.

Before she could say anything else, Eric wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. He hated it when anyone did anything to make her upset. Though he wanted to put those two idiots who were clearly making her uncomfortable through the wall, he chose the next best thing that would leave a far more permanent mark.

“You’re something else, Eric Northman, but thank you. I truly appreciate it.”

“Anytime, min kärlek.”

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thenopaes · 3 years ago

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screw it!!! posting the headcanons because im a crybaby for these two and you should be too!!!!

ive never formally introduced him yet but these are between jean (aka benjamin’s bff) and his long-time lover, amélie

aw childhood sweethearts how cute

sometimes benjamin is third-wheeling. other times amélie is the one third-wheeling him and jean and she’s totally cool with it because my god can these two act any more gay

jean keeps a photo of amélie in his front pocket whenever he goes out on missions

also puts said-photograph on the side of the rear gunner seat so that she’s the last thing he sees if he gets k-worded

amélie sings at this boujee jazz nightclub in zephis & dedicates most of her songs to him

jean brings amélie a bouquet every time he watches her shows and now she has like hundreds of flowers to care for. but they remind her of jean so you can bet she waters those babies whenever he’s gone

unrelated but search up the things we did last summer or ev’ry day i love you just a little bit more by jo stafford and imagine that’s amélie singing for him (yes i headcanoned her voice to sound like jo moving on)

totally wipe the floor with their swing dancing like are you kidding me

benjamin knows all the drama, all the tea. bc neither of these fools know how to keep their mouths shut and end up spilling everything to him for advice (even tho this dude has not been in a relationship in years?? what)

benjamin eats it all up tho but never tells the other that he knows what he knows. so now he’s like their designated therapist and also one of the reasons why their relationship is so rock-solid

amélie dreading / never reading the newspaper for the chance that jean’s name or squad pops up in there wrongly

light each others’ cigarettes without even looking at or asking the other

bickers & banters without crossing the line

this man is so faithful im hhghfshgjsd like a bunch of pretty girls will hit him up at the bar or try to flirt and he’ll just sit there like :| so anyways ive been thinking of how to surprise my girl for her bday and you’re obviously a girl so what do you think about—

girls also start avoiding him at the bar bc talking abt amélie when he’s drunk = crying

crying = benjamin letting jean sob on his shoulder while patting his back & telling him things like “you idiot just bc it’s been three months doesn’t mean she’s not in love with you anym— are you vomiting??!”

sometimes amélie will wait a little by the nightclub’s telephone for the slightest chance jean might call her from the other side of the world

jean tries to write her letters as often as he can but he’s never able to send it, so now he has an old coffee tin filled with a bunch of unsent letters dating back years ago

bittersweet, relieved reunions marked by a warm embrace; tearful goodbyes praying it will never be their last kiss

legitimately crying over headcanons i made between two characters who barely interact is sooooo much better than actually writing imo

#fs. headcanons #snuck a lil benjamin in there bc what's jean w out his best mate #apologies in advance i wasn’t even aware of how much i made

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smutsonian · 3 years ago

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checkmate

the salesman (squid game) x female reader

summary: salesman obsessing over a client’s daughter

warnings: 18+, darkish fic, manipulation, smut, breeding kink, creampie, jealous salesman, lil bit of praise kink

word count: 2.2k

a/n: new salesman fic who dis? @crappedoutlungs i drickin love you always and forever please never drop my ass in the dirt/thank you for proofreading. also this was a praise kink and jealous salesman request but idk if i did this right so i apologize in advance

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The salesman has been keeping an eye on you. You've been trying to solve the case like a cute little detective since your father went missing because no one else was willing to help you.

Who would when the man you’re trying to look for has been in trouble for more than ten fingers can count. With the amount of time he's spent in and out of prison, your father has clearly made a name for himself among the cops. Everyone at the station is aware of the bad people your father has been working with. Your father's debts, which he continues to avoid. It was inevitable for him to cross the wrong person, and it appears that he has already done so.

Who would help such a man?

The salesman did. He gave him one of those call cards for the infamous game after he slapped him a bunch of times, secretly enjoying it.

When he found out about you, he wished he'd done more harm. Concerning what your father has subjected you to. The daughter who works nearly 24 hours a day just to pay bills that keep disappearing because your father manages to talk you into giving him the money.

He realized you weren't that difficult to persuade. Because the salesman knows how much you adore your father, it was easy money for him. If he'd known how bad your father was to you, he'd have replaced the slaps with punches.

He, on the other hand, is devising a strategy. He's been keeping an eye on you as you've attempted to solve your father's disappearance. He thought your dedication was endearing, and he enjoyed watching your little adventures, despite the fact that they were futile.

He was content to simply observe you as you scanned the station for clues about your father's whereabouts.

He was content with admiring your beauty from a distance.

Until he wasn’t.

Until the new young cop began paying more attention to you.

Oh, the clients he was playing with were victims of his jealousy, his slaps being even harder than his usual hard slaps.

The young cop was clearly more interested in you than in your father's disappearance, but you were too naive to notice. You're so desperate to find your horrible father that you don't even care about yourself.

The salesman’s eye twitches in annoyance when the young cop wraps his arm around you when you shivered at the coldness in the station. The red paper in the salesman’s hand gets crinkled up as he continues to watch you in someone else’s arms.

He was the one looking out for you ever since your father disappeared and even if he was the one who’s behind it, he never let you out of his sight, looking after you and threatening those who even tried to glance at you with ill-intent.

The young cop was no different. He was just there to get into your pants. The young girl who was desperate to find her missing father.

He wasn’t going to let some young boy get his dirty pathetic hands on you.

No, he was going to do something about it.

The salesman would’ve laughed at how easy it was to frame the young cop of masterminding your father’s disappearance. The clothes that your father wore before the games started, planted at the young cop’s home.

It was rewarding to see you looking at the young cop with disgust and betrayal while he was being cuffed and put into the backseat of that police car.

He would’ve rejoiced at the way the young cop’s face became so desperate, afraid, and lost if it wasn’t for your sulking form.

It touched the salesman’s heart and before he knew it, he was walking towards you who’s currently sitting on the sidewalk, head pressed to your curled knees, shoulders jumping as you sobbed your heart out.

The salesman didn’t want that for you and it was enough to make him approach you like you just have a pull towards him. You controlled him without even knowing it.

“Here,” he watches as you raise your head from your knees, eyes glistening with tears and nose running, yet you still looked like the most beautiful flower in the garden.

His heart skipped a beat when you took the white hanky he was holding out for you, your cold fingers brushing against his firm hand.

“Thanks,” your soft whisper was music to his ears and he wanted it to be the last song he listens to before he dies.

He ignores the way your body stiffened when he sits on the pavement beside you, he’d fix that later. Just like how he’ll fix you and your broken heart.

“W-what are you doing?” Oh, how he adored your shy voice. He looks at you, your eyes looking at him with wonder and confusion.

“You look like you need a friend,” he only smiled, patting your knee softly before looking away from you. He had to stop himself from pouncing on you even though it’s the only thing he wants to do.

He’s going to let you heal first. He’ll heal you.

“Oh,” was your response and he just kept his silence knowing that you prefer that instead of forcing her to recall all the mishaps that’s been happening to her.

It’s not like he needs to know about it anyway. He already knows everything about you.

His lips curl at the way you shuffled closer to him when a burst of wind passes the both of you. He basked at the feeling of your head slowly falling down his shoulder and slightly frowning when you picked it back up, apologizing profusely at him which he waved at nonchalantly.

He offered to drive you home but turned down your offer for a cup of coffee. As much as he wanted to go inside your home with you, he had to wait. He couldn’t push all things at once or you might slip away.

His patience was rewarded when you finally started opening up to him. Even allowed him to sleep over from time to time.

The next big thing that he was rewarded with was the trust you gave him when you asked him to drink with you. He knew how drunk you can be and he preened at the thought of you trusting him like that so when you became a drunken mess, he took care of you.

He respectfully changed you out of your dirty clothes and helped you with cleaning up after yourself before placing you on the bed.

To top things off, he slept on your couch, eager to play the role of a sweet gentleman.

He was rewarded the next morning when you woke him up with the smell of a delicious breakfast.

He watched you as you prepared a plate for him, loving the domestic display and daydreaming about the day when you’re finally his wife, hopefully round with his kid. He’ll spoil you with everything. He’ll be the perfect husband.

You place the plate in front of him with a shy smile before sitting next to him, closer than you usually would and he hides his smirk by taking a spoonful of the meal you made for him.

He compliments the food, loving the way you avoided his gaze. You’re adorable when you’re shy.

“Jun-ho was the one who taught me the recipe,” was your way of trying to cover the awkward silence but it only managed to fuel the salesman’s anger.

Jun-ho was the young cop who betrayed you, or at least that’s what you believe. So, why would you even speak about that boy?

Your eyes widened when he visibly stopped eating, face blank as he stared at the food that looked so delicious but was now staring back at him like it was mocking him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about him,” you apologized, hands cupping his forearm desperately. Like you’re begging for his forgiveness.

His ego was boosted again.

He was going to play his part again and he’ll finally get you after this.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m only worried about you. I don’t want you thinking about the bad memories, okay?” He covers both of your hands with his big ones, long fingers easily caging yours. The fondness in your eyes and the glint that passed through it was enough to make the salesman smile.

You were finally in his clutch.

As expected, your shyness was replaced with adrenaline and you suddenly moved forward to kiss his lips. He would’ve returned the kiss but he was still playing a part. He has to finish this act in order to finally have you in his arms. For you to be finally his.

He watches as you pull back, the embarrassment and shyness back in your features as you realized that he was not kissing back and had a look of shock on his face.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what came over me!” You apologized again and again until he was cupping your warm cheeks with his cold hands compared to the heat of your body.

“I liked it,” he says shyly, loving the way your eyes lit up at his sentence.

“You did?”

He nods in response, looking down like a shy boy before saying the final script that would make you crawl in his arms.

“I just don’t want you to do something that you would regret. You’re hurting from your loss and I don’t want you to be forced to—”

He couldn’t even finish his words because you're back on him, more eager and demanding this time. Your tongue was inside his lips and this time he was reciprocating your vigor.

He can’t hold back anymore.

“Please. I want this,” you moaned through the kiss.

He won’t hold back anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pulls away, watching your love drunk eyes before picking you up and heading straight for your bed.

He lays you down with so much care that he can see the way your eyes were making heart shapes for him.

He makes a move to take your clothes off and you let him. He watches as your eyes flutter when he takes his time, his fingers brushing your thighs softly down to your ankles.

“Is this okay?” He asks when he makes his way to what’s between your legs, ready to get a taste of you.

You shake your head before pulling his body up until his face is right in front of yours.

“I want you inside me now,” you all but begged.

He smirks when you keep your eyes shut, waiting for him to just take you.

He wants to hear you beg though.

“A-are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he stutters, cursing in his mind because all he wants to do is shove his thick hard aching cock inside you.

“Please! Just fuck me. Just fuck me right now, please!” You grab at his backside pulling him close and he shudders at the contact.

Well, don’t mind if I do.

He kisses you before pushing in, slowly at first but goes fast when you keep pulling him closer.

“You feel so good… You’re amazing!” He whispers through moans as he continues to thrust in and out of your sopping slit.

Your moans only push him more into insanity and the picture of you with that Jun-ho guy makes his blood boil.

You're his now. Nobody will be able to get you now. Not even Jun-ho.

He growls as his pace becomes stronger and your wanton moans only urge him to keep pounding into you.

He watches your face as he continues to plow into you, your hole eagerly clenching around him and when you open your eyes, he does his best to stop himself from cumming because your eyes were looking at him with so much love.

“Please cum inside me,” you mutter through gasps as he keeps his pace strong and fast.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a whine when he hits a certain spot and your next words were what made him finally spill inside you.

“Oh, god! I love you! I love you so much!” You finally scream, feeling his warm liquid squirting inside you, your legs shaking in ecstasy as he continues to ride you through your orgasms.

He watches you fall apart beneath him and smiles at the sex drunk look that your eyes have.

“You mean that?” He bites his lip, genuinely nervous now as he lays down beside you.

You turn to him, fingers dancing across his face, admiring the little hairs that were starting to grow.

“I do. I love you,” you press a shy kiss on his lips before looking at his eyes that were starting to tear up.

“Are you oka-”

“I love you too,” he cuts you off and presses a kiss on your lips as well but longer and more passionately than the one you gave.

“You’re mine now,” he bites your lips and you chuckle at his possessiveness.

“I’m yours,” you assured him, still blind and unknowing of how his plans worked out very well and how you unknowingly yet perfectly played in his game.

Nothing mattered to him anymore.

The only thing that does is you being in his arms.

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @denisemarieangelina @priii

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #the salesman x female reader #recruiter x reader #naive reader #squid game smut #squid game fic #squid game x reader #squid game imagine #the salesman imagine #salesman imagine #dark fic #gong yoo x reader

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