#definitely near-eternal suffering and loss | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'Two scintillating performances are at the heart of Andrew Haigh’s time-warp film, a tear-jerking meditation on loss, loneliness and self-alienation. The lovers played by Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal are destined to live on as one of cinema’s classic screen couples.

It’s an understatement to say that Andrew Scott will break your heart in Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers. Seeing him and Paul Mescal together is one of those triumphs of screen chemistry. They are both brilliant actors, and possibly even better human beings. Watching them fall, quickly and deeply, into a relationship that feels simultaneously eternal and doomed, is devastating. Little wonder they’ve been raking in awards and nominations – for themselves and for the film.

Scott, the Irish actor who soared to popularity as the so-called “Hot Priest” in the groundbreaking comedy series Fleabag, plays Adam who, like Scott in real life, is gay.

He is also miserably unhappy.

And, going by the ennui of his first few minutes on screen, he’s deeply lonely, alienated, and suffering from writer’s block. Within moments of craning over his laptop to start work on his new screenplay, he is back on the sofa scoffing junk food, watching rubbish on TV.

That’s perhaps par for the course for many writers. But there’s a sense almost that Adam is entirely alone in the world, that whatever suffering he is experiencing has consumed him absolutely. He lives in a large but apparently near-vacant high-rise block in London and seems to have no connection with people whatsoever.

So, when a dishevelled, slightly drunk and definitely horny Harry (Mescal looking wonderfully unkempt and very keen) shows up at his door, you are already hoping that Adam will invite him in, respond to the straightforward offer of company – and probably much more. Instead, he shuts the door in the face of the younger man and you realise that Adam’s suffering has a kind of terminal quality. He is morbidly alone, incapable of giving in to that most human urge for companionship.

After all, who in his right mind would turn Paul Mescal away?

It’s a good thing, then, that Harry is persistent. Otherwise we might never get to witness what turns out to be one of those truly great screen romances, full of passion and intimacy. The latter is deftly handled, the camera tenderly surveying the landscapes of the two lovers, skirting around genitalia, avoiding being too graphic while leaving little to the imagination. It’s the kind of sex, too, that really does propel the story along, and deepens our understanding of the two men and their experiences.

Before this hot romance kicks off, though, the film goes off on an alternate track. Quite literally. Adam sets off by train, you see, on a time-bending jaunt back to the suburban home of his childhood where he meets his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) precisely as they were 30 years ago, at about the time when they both died in a car accident.

It’s a wonky twist, this idea that we are able to see our protagonist hang out with the ghosts of his parents and spend meaningful moments interacting with them.

Or perhaps it’s not so strange, given that Adam is a writer and that the film he is struggling to start writing is about his parents and set in the 1987 of his childhood. However we choose to interpret what unfolds – dream, fantasy, maybe time travel – it pulls the rug from under us and at the same time enables us to go with what the film is ultimately offering us: slipstream entry into a realm of possibility, a chance to grapple with some of the many “what ifs” that haunt Adam, and perhaps haunt us all.

For Adam, it doesn’t really matter, though, if it’s real or imagined, because the effect it has on him – the feelings, the emotions, and Scott’s impeccably agonising tears – are all unspeakably real.

And so, when he has the opportunity to tell his long-dead mother that he is gay, he grabs it, and then he observes how she might have reacted had he been able to come out to her while she was alive. In an unflinchingly tender, yet perfectly restrained scene, he grapples with her instinctual prejudices and cruel responses. Because, of course, she is still mired in a different era.

Adam must work through the perplexity and devastation of realising that there is such a vast part of who he is that will forever be unknown and unknowable to his long-departed parents. That he will always be a stranger to them.

Yet, while he seems to take on this burden of regret and pain on behalf of multitudes of gay people who have gone through life without being able to come out to their parents, you realise that actually his feelings are not limited to this question of sexual identity.

In fact, Scott’s portrayal of anguish is about something more universal: that the time we have with one another is limited, and that the secrets we keep locked up limit our access to a full life. It’s this sense of being a stranger to those around us that keeps us lonely, that alienates us not only from others, but also from ourselves.

While Haigh’s film is ultimately designed to break your heart, its construction cleverly works to keep you on your toes. It’s a bit of a mind-bender, purposefully complex and littered with irrational moments that every so often threaten to topple over into the realm of science-fiction – or horror.

It is, after all, about being haunted, whether by our memories or by our imaginations. And while his parents aren’t exactly spooky, there are just enough moments of visual terror to scare Adam out of his dreams, and to keep us wondering about how the intricate layering of intrigue adds up to a story we can ultimately make sense of.

When we do, though, the truth is gut-wrenching.

It’s a film that feels deeply personal, extremely intimate. Even in scenes that take us into the sweaty, frenzied environment of gay clubs with their exuberant half-naked dancing and throbbing crowds, you feel Adam’s isolation and desperate loneliness, and his inability to properly connect with the wider world. In one such sequence, his hazy, drug-addled state ushers in almost debilitating confusion, and that’s when Haigh has us right where he wants us: floating in a kind of dreamscape, a timeless, borderless limbo that is a pure cinematic rendering of Adam’s terrible alienation.

Whether or not Adam will be able to overcome his inner pain is uncertain, but I have a strong sense that this film will, for its viewers, help resolve some of the wounds that afflict all of us. Because, in the end, we are all strangers to one another, unable to ever fully know the complete inner world of those around us.

This film does a fine job of letting us know how it feels to be just one of those countless strangers we live among. It also reminds us that, in order to connect, you need to leave your apartment, let go of the past, and not only imagine the possibilities, but dive into the world. And live.'

#Andrew Haigh #Andrew Scott #All of Us Strangers #Paul Mescal #Hot Priest #Fleabag #Jamie Bell #Claire Foy

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daimonclub · 1 year ago

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T.S. Eliot poetic quotes

T.S. Eliot poetic quotes T.S. Eliot poetic quotes, aphorisms, sentences, definitions, criticisms and ideas that have a great poetic and literary meaning chosen from his various works. We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly. T.S. Eliot First Priest: But again, is it war or peace? Messenger: Peace, but not the kiss of peace. T.S. Eliot Gradually we come to admit that Shakespeare understands a greater extent and variety of human life than Dante; but that Dante understands deeper degrees of degradation and higher degrees of exaltation. T.S. Eliot April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. T.S. Eliot No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job.... Poetry.. remains one person talking to another.... no poet can write a poem of amplitude unless he is the master of the prosaic. T.S. Eliot When a Cat adopts you there is nothing to be done about it except to put up with it until the wind changes. T.S. Eliot The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes. T.S. Eliot We see the light but see not whence it comes. O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee! T.S. Eliot In the uncertain hour before the morning Near the ending of interminable night At the recurrent end of the unending After the dark dove with the flickering tongue Had passed below the horizon of his homing. T.S. Eliot And so each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling, Undisciplined squads of emotion. T.S. Eliot The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason. T.S. Eliot The man who returns will have to meet The boy who left. T.S. Eliot These modern productions are all very well, But there's nothing to equal, from what I hear tell, That moment of mystery When I made history As Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell. T.S. Eliot There are several symptoms Which must occur together, and to a marked degree, To qualify a patient for my sanatorium: And one of them is an honest mind. That is one of the causes of their suffering. T.S. Eliot In spite of all the dishonour, the broken standards, the broken lives, The broken faith in one place or another, There was something left that was more than the tales Of old men on winter evenings. T.S. Eliot Ash on an old man's sleeve Is all the ash the burnt roses leave. Dust in the air suspended Marks the place where a story ended. Dust inbreathed was a house - The wall, the wainscot and the mouse The death of hope and despair, This is the death of air. T.S. Eliot Unreal city, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. T.S. Eliot Keeping time, Keeping the rhythm in their dancing As in their living in the living seasons The time of the seasons and the constellations The time of milking and the time of harvest The time of the coupling of man and woman And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling. Eating and drinking. Dung and death. T.S. Eliot Let these words answer For what is done, not to be done again May the judgement not be too heavy upon us T.S. Eliot In life there is not time to grieve long But this, this is out of life, this is out of time, An instant eternity of evil and wrong. T.S. Eliot The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way - The Church can sleep and feed at once. T.S. Eliot Wavering between the profit and the loss In this brief transit where the dreams cross The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying. T.S. Eliot And what the dead had no speech for, when living, They can tell you, being dead: the communication Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot poetic aphorisms Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. T.S. Eliot He is every bit as sane as you or I, He sees the world as clearly as you or I see it, It is only that he has seen a great deal more than that. T.S. Eliot Why should men love the Church? Why should they love her laws? She tells them of Life and Death, and of all that they would forget. T.S. Eliot You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl. - Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer. T.S. Eliot Sudden in a shaft of sunlight Even while the dust moves There rises the hidden laughter Of children in the foliage Quick now, here, now, always - Ridiculous the waste sad time Stretching before and after. T.S. Eliot We can say of Shakespeare, that never has a man turned so little knowledge to such great account. T.S. Eliot We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! T.S. Eliot I do not believe that any writer has ever exposed this bovarysme, the human will to see things as they are not, more clearly than Shakespeare. T.S. Eliot Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them. There is no third. T.S. Eliot And Shakespeare himself takes liberties which only his genius justifies; liberties which Dante, with an equal genius, does not take. To pass on to posterity one’s own language, more highly developed, more refined, and more precise than it was before one wrote it, that is the highest possible achievement of the poet as poet. T.S. Eliot To be truly great poets it is not enough to have language and vision; it is also necessary to possess a great philosophical and/or theological system, which Shakespeare lacked and Dante did not. T.S. Eliot Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph. T.S. Eliot I gotta use words when I talk to you But if you understand or if you don't That's nothing to me and nothing to you. T.S. Eliot The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all. T.S. Eliot In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. T.S. Eliot Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall My buried life, and Paris in the spring, I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world To be wonderful and youthful after all. T.S. Eliot I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. T.S. Eliot Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. T.S. Eliot Home is where one starts from. As we grow older The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated Of dead and living. Not the intense moment Isolated, with no before and after, But a lifetime burning in every moment And not the lifetime of one man only But of old stones that cannot be deciphered. T.S. Eliot A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest. T.S. Eliot Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter. Old men ought to be explorers Here and there does not matter We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning. T.S. Eliot Think not forever of yourselves, O Chiefs, nor of your own generation. Think of continuing generations of our families, think of our grandchildren and of those yet unborn, whose faces are coming from beneath the ground. T.S. Eliot There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing, No end to the withering of withered flowers. T.S. Eliot We can say of Shakespeare, that never has a man turned so little knowledge to such great account. T.S. Eliot It seems just possible that a poem might happen To a very young man: but a poem is not poetry - That is a life. T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot poetry quotes Our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves, and of our visible, sensible world. T.S. Eliot To rest in your own suffering Is evasion of suffering. We must learn to suffer more. T.S. Eliot All things become less real, man passes From unreality to unreality. T.S. Eliot The death of hope and despair, This is the death of air. T.S. Eliot My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand. T.S. Eliot Garlic and sapphires in the mud Clot the bedded axle-tree. The trilling wire in the blood Sings below inveterate scars And reconciles forgotten wars. T.S. Eliot In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. T.S. Eliot There are flood and drought over the eyes and in the mouth, dead water and dead sand contending for the upper hand. The parched eviscerate soil gapes at the vanity of toil, laughs without mirth. This is the death of the earth. T.S. Eliot When a great poet has lived, certain things have been done once for all, and cannot be achieved again. T.S. Eliot Any man has to, needs to, wants to Once in a lifetime, do a girl in. T.S. Eliot Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair. T.S. Eliot It is not the "greatness," the intensity, of the emotions, the components, but the intensity of the artistic process, the pressure, so to speak, under which the fusion takes place, that counts. T.S. Eliot When the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. T.S. Eliot What have we to do but stand with empty hands and palms turned upwards in an age which advances progressively backwards? T.S. Eliot I am glad you have a Cat, but I do not believe it is So remarkable a cat as My Cat. My Cat is a Lilliecat Hubvously. What a lilliecat it is. There never was such a Lilliecat. Its Name is JELLYORUM and its one Idea is to be Usefull!! T.S. Eliot Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger. Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions. T.S. Eliot As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. T.S. Eliot The Rum Turn Tugger is a terrible bore: When you let him in, then he wants to be out; He's always on the wrong side of every door, And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about. T.S. Eliot In the vacant places We will build with new bricks T.S. Eliot If we are moved by a poem, it has meant something, perhaps something important, to us; if we are not moved, then it is, as poetry, meaningless. T.S. Eliot The majority of poems one outgrows and outlives, as one outgrows and outlives the majority of human passions. T.S. Eliot The endless cycle of idea and action, / Endless invention, endless experiment, / Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness; / Knowledge of speech, but not of silence; / Knowledge of words, and ignorance of The Word. T.S. Eliot A woman drew her long black hair out tight, And fiddled whisper music on those strings, And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings, And crawled head downward down a blackened wall. T.S. Eliot Poets in our civilization, as it exists at present, must be difficult... The poet must become more and more comprehensive, more allusive, more indirect, in order to force, to dislocate if necessary, language into its meaning. T.S. Eliot When a poet's mind is perfectly equipped for its work, it is constantly amalgamating disparate experience - in the mind of the poet these experiences are always forming new wholes. T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot in the library Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. T. S. Eliot Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. T.S. Eliot He knew the anguish of the marrow The ague of the skeleton; No contact possible to flesh Allayed the fever of the bone. T.S. Eliot A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are infolded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. T. S. Eliot For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. T.S. Eliot I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates. T.S. Eliot Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: - Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. T. S. Eliot Clear the air! clean the sky! wash the wind! take the stone from stone, take the skin from the arm, take the muscle from bone, and wash them. T.S. Eliot Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only The wind will listen. T.S. Eliot It is a test (a positive test, I do not assert that it is always valid negatively), that genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. T.S. Eliot Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree In the cool of the day. T.S. Eliot I take as metaphysical poetry that in which what is ordinarily apprehensible only by thought is brought within the grasp of feeling, or that in which what is ordinarily only felt is transformed into thought without ceasing to be feeling. T.S. Eliot I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me, I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me. T.S. Eliot Much to cast down, much to build, much to restore. T.S. Eliot Sometimes these cogitations still amaze The troubled midnight and the noon's repose. T.S. Eliot The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn. T.S. Eliot O Light Invisible, we praise Thee! Too bright for mortal vision. T.S. Eliot Speech impelled us To purify the dialect of the tribe And urge the mind to aftersight and foresight. T.S. Eliot Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech T.S. Eliot The great poet, in writing himself, writes his time. T.S. Eliot The eastern light our spires touch at morning, The light that slants upon our western doors at evening, The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight, Moon light and star light, owl and moth light, Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade. O Light Invisible, we worship Thee! T.S. Eliot God is leaving us, God is leaving us, more pang, more pain, than birth or death. T.S. Eliot I'll convert you! Into a stew. A nice little, white little, missionary stew! T.S. Eliot Two live as one One live as two Two live as three Under the bam Under the boo Under the bamboo tree. T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot Child house To country people Cows are mild, And flee from any stick they throw; But I'm a timid town bred child, And all the cattle seem to know. T.S. Eliot In our rhythm of earthly life we tire of light. We are glad when the day ends, when the play ends; and ecstasy is too much pain. T.S. Eliot By the same author you can also read: T.S. Eliot quotes and aphorisms T.S. Eliot thoughts and reflections Aforismi e citazioni di T.S. Eliot Aprile il mese più crudele The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot Complete Poems by T.S. Eliot Selected essays by T.S. Eliot Collected poems 1909-1935 Quotes by authors Quotes by arguments Essays with quotes Thoughts Read the full article

#aphorisms #April #Dante #Eliot #God #hollow #land #love #men #poem #poems #poet #poetic #Poetry #quotes #Shakespeasre #T.S.Eliot #wast #words #writing

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merakiui · 4 years ago

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Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare.

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self.

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise.

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much.

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role.

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons.

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier.

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future.

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage.

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease.

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya.

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win?

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.”

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life.

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits.

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave.

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed.

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair.

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore.

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact ajax #yandere genshin impact ajax #ajax x reader #yandere ajax x reader

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wheezyandchesterwrite · 4 years ago

Text

"Please don't leave me" ~ Peter Parker

Summary: When you are injured in battle Peter begs you to stay

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Speedster!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, injuries, and blood. Just overall sad. (If we missed something that you feel should be tagged and/or mentioned let us now and we'll include it)

A/N: Hey, so as you can see we are not dead! :) (I don't know why I did that it hurt me too ok?) Since there was no post in March we are going to try our best to post two other one shots this month, but we'll see how that goes. Hope you all enjoy this and have a great morning/afternoon/night! -W&C :)

Also major thanks to @apotatoinabigfield and @too-attached-to-fiction for proofreading and beta-reading this!

*GIF IS NOT OURS* (We got it off of Google, but if anyone knows who the credits for it belong to let us know so we can rightfully tag them)

5 years ago:

“Something’s happening,” said the girl with the antennae, Mantis. At least, that’s what she had said her name was. Suddenly after, she turned to dust. She just disappeared. In shock, you got closer to Peter, looking for some kind of safety or comfort. Everyone was shocked; no one could understand what had just occurred before your very eyes. Before anyone could say something or even gather their thoughts, it happened again.

“Quill?” was the last thing Drax said before suffering the same fate as Mantis. We lost. That was the only explanation you could fathom. The Avengers had lost and Thanos won. You tightened your grip around Peter, fully embracing him now. You were all desperately trying to decipher who would be next, fearing it being yourselves or your loved ones, but it was pointless. Whatever was causing this came and left without a warning.

“Steady, Quill,” said Tony, but it was to no avail.

“Oh, man,” sighed the man who had introduced himself as Starlord, dusting away defeatedly. You looked up at Peter, who had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner. He was scared, that much you could tell, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes, determined to conceal the unsettling fear of not being able to hold you for much longer. You tried to convince yourself it was done—that no one else would be taken—but it was pointless. Deep down, you knew this was far from over.

“Tony,” the man turned to look at Strange, “there was no other way.” Stephen Strange took a couple more breaths before dusting away like the others had. Although Strange had said he saw over sixty-three billion outcomes, you couldn’t see how this could be the one you won in. It definitely didn’t feel like it.

Suddenly, breathing became hard. You saw dust particles floating from your hand and the reality of what was going to happen hit you. “No,” you whispered anguishly.

“(Y/N)?” Peter brought your attention to him instead of the particles which declared your fate.

“Pete, I—” you started as you reached up to stroke his cheek, but before you could come in contact with his skin or finish your declaration, you faded away in his arms.

“I know,” the boy said softly as he watched the wind carry what was once his lover.

Tony was at loss for words. He felt like the universe was playing a sick, twisted prank on him. As Tony sulked, Peter felt it. He felt his spidey sense warn him that something was going to happen. He could feel his body struggle to keep him in one piece, to keep him together, to keep him alive. No matter how quickly his body fought, it was destined to lose. “Mr. Stark,” the boy called out to the man who was more than his mentor, the man who had become like a father to him.. “I don’t feel so good,” he painfully admitted. Peter started stumbling around, his legs struggling to keep him up.

“You’re alright,” defied Stark. More than an attempt to console the boy, Tony Stark was trying to reassure himself that the universe, as cruel as it had always been to him, wouldn't do this—that it would not take his boy away. But alas, the genius man was to be proven wrong.

“I— I don’t know what’s happening. I— I don’t understand,” countered the Spiderboy hurriedly. His feet gave out, and he would’ve fallen forward if it hadn’t been for Tony catching him and holding him up. More and more particles could be seen emerging from the boy, and in that moment, the only thing Tony could do was hold on to Peter for as long as he had left.

“I don’t wanna go,” Peter pleaded. “I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please.” His voice was cracking and his legs couldn’t support him any longer as more particles escaped him. Peter’s pleas wouldn’t cease much like the cracks in his voice every time he spoke. Tony lowered him to the ground not daring to say a word. Peter, with teary, bloodshot eyes, looked at the man and whispered an apology before finally letting his body dissipate.

Tony couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even think. “He did it,” said Nebula. Yet the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist didn’t respond. He just looked at his hand, which was covered in dirt—dirt that had once been Peter Parker. Tony let himself cry, allowing grief and shock to take over him. After all there was nothing else he could do.

***

Present day:

“Love you—wait, what happened?” You find yourself reaching up, but the person you had been trying to touch no longer stood in front of you. Your body was slowly regaining feeling, but your mind felt as numb as ever. You had so many thoughts running through your brain at such a speed that you couldn’t focus on any of them.

“I love you too, Speedy.” You heard a voice answer from behind you. You felt some of the anxiety subside once you put a name to the voice, which was easy since only one person in the entire world called you Speedy.

“Peter,” you exhaled in relief. Turning around in an instant, you ran into the arms you had chosen to call home. Peter embraced you tightly, not wanting to release the other in fear of permanently losing one another this time. You didn’t know how much time had passed from when you lost your consciousness, but that didn’t matter for Peter. Seeing the person he had deemed to be his soulmate dissipate in front him had been more than enough for him to feel like the amount of time that had passed between then and now had been an eternity. Suddenly, Strange spoke up, answering the question plaguing everyone’s minds.

“It’s been five years. Come on, they need us.” He stated commandingly. You all shared looks of dumbfoundment and bewilderment. Five years? How could that have been possible? The only one on the planet you stood on who looked at ease was Stephen, his calm demeanor never faltering. You looked up at Peter confused, but he simply shrugged, not wanting to believe such time had passed yet knowing better than to contradict Dr. Strange.

“Okay, everyone, this is it. Activate your badass stances!” exclaimed Quill.

“What did you say about my ass, Quill?” Drax started charging towards him, visibly offended. You raced to wedge yourself between the two men, struggling to keep them apart.

“Hey, no time for that. Look!” You called over their attention to the portal Strange was opening in front of you. Peter swung his way to the front, landing elegantly. After making sure Quill and Drax would not try to go at each other's throats, you swiftly made your way to the front and stood beside Peter.

Glancing around what was going to serve as your battlefield for today, you grimly recognized the location. What was once known as the Avenger’s Headquarters was now no more than a field of scattered debris. Clouds of dust littered the air, the remains of mass destruction visible wherever you looked. You gave yourself a chase to take in the sight of Thanos’ army, and as you did so, fear and worry tried to etch their way into your brain as you realized what you were facing. This was an enemy that had already defeated you once, and when you had fought him, he hadn't even had an army backing him up. Your determination and will to fight and live to tell the tale overpowered those negative feelings. The sight of the spaceship filled you with spitefulness instead of dread, and you knew in that moment that you would do whatever it took to win. The Avengers would not lose again; you were going to make sure of that, even if you had to lay down your life for it to become a reality.

“Is that everyone?” Strange asked Wong.

“What, you wanted more?” Wong yelled back in disbelief, and Strange shrugged nonchalantly in response.

As everyone settled into position, Cap’s voice was loudly heard, like thunder rumbling through the field, “AVENGERS.” This was the moment of truth—your last chance to save humanity. You could feel the seconds pass before Steve gave the signal, “Assemble.” And with that, everyone was off.

A beautiful and empowering mess of battle cries could be heard around you. You, on the other hand, were silent as you ran, calculating your every move. Using all the knowledge you’d gained over the years about hand-in-hand combat, you started to hastily assassinate those monsters. You would jump at one, taking them down, and godspeed to your next target, sending each one you came in contact with on a one way trip to meet their maker. Near you, Peter was also taking out some of the Chitauri, at times propelling you onto your next target or eliminating some of them when you got surrounded. After clearing out most of the aliens near you, Peter tapped you on the shoulder and pointed to Tony. Understanding his intentions, you nodded and made your way towards the infamous Iron Man.

As you slid into the crater where Tony lay, Peter landed from his swinging. Tony stared at the two of you in disbelief, doubting whether or not to believe you were actually there. When his expression softened, and tender affection spread across his factions, Peter began rambling, and you shook off some of the concrete dust from your suit. “Hey, holy cow! You will not believe what’s going on,” Peter exclaimed as he helped Tony stand up.

“No?” Tony asked sarcastically, but it only encouraged you.

“Do you remember when we were in space? And we got all dusty? I guess we must’ve passed out because when we woke up, you were gone.” You now stood beside Peter as you spoke, your hands increasing their pace as you rambled on, making them impossible to follow with the human eye.

“But Doctor Strange was there right? He was like ‘It’s been five years. Come on they need us,’” Peter said as he tried to make an impression of Strange, mimicking the way the man had moved his hands when opening the portals.

“Yeah, and then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing he does all the time.” You took over from Pete when he gave you the chance.

“He did? Oh, God!” Tony exclaimed with feigned incredulity. He started walking toward you and grabbed you both by the shoulder, pushing you into him.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, bewildered.

“Huh, what’s this?” You questioned, confused as Tony engulfed you both simultaneously. He held you tightly, and when the shock passed, you and Peter hugged the man back even tighter.

“Oh, this is nice.” Peter sighed, earning a light chuckle from Stark.

“Listen, kids, we don’t have a lot of time right now, but I’ll catch you up on the latest trends once we take this bitch down. Okay?” Tony assured as he released you, holding on to your forearm to look the both of you in the eyes as he spoke.

“Yes, sir.” Peter saluted.

“See you on the other side of the war.” You smirked, knowing Tony and Peter must have caught that reference. Tony shook his head as he took off, the ghost of a grin barely noticeable on his lips.

Peter nudged you. “Be careful, okay?” His eyes showed genuine concern.

“Alright, I solemnly swear—” Peter gave you a warning look. “Okay, fine. I’ll try my best to be as careful as possible in the middle of a battle.” You finished, your tone a weird mixture between sarcasm and affection.

“Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before taking off.

“Alright, Chitauri, give me your best shot.” You smirked at the unsuspecting figure that was currently fighting off T’challa. Having speed and regeneration to your advantage, you zig-zagged around Thanos’ army, ducking and killing as you went. You moved with precision, only stopping when you were sure to have a clear shot at the enemy you were targeting.

You went on that way until you weren’t able to dodge a body that dropped in front of you, making you trip over it. The collision made you roll down a mountain of debris, hitting your head dangerously hard several times, as well as getting a couple of cuts along the way from the exposed, sharp metal.

“That’s sure to give me a concussion,” you grunted to yourself. The throbbing of your head distracted you from the burn of the cuts that now littered your abdomen, some deeper than others. It wasn’t until you brought a hand to your head, that you noticed the crimson liquid that coated it. “Oh, shit,” you exhaled. The pain was starting to catch up to you as the adrenaline subsided. You tried to use your powers to find yourself a safe spot until you recovered, but your attempts were futile seeing as the pain coursing through your body rendered you immobile.

“Is that Peter falling?” The figure you saw was indeed Peter and the sharp spiderlegs of his suits were still out for blood. You managed to move just enough that you were barely graced, another gash prompting blood out of your system. Peter tumbled in the opposite direction, clutching what you assumed to be the gauntlet you were supposed to keep out of Thanos’ hands. The sudden movements to dodge Peter hadn’t come without consequences. You felt like your surroundings were spiralling around you, dizziness overtaking you as you started to cough up blood. You managed to stubbornly sit up and when you looked to your side, you saw Peter giving the gauntlet to a glowing woman.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that,” you heard him admit to her out of breath.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda stepped in.

“She’s got help,” Okoye finished, her hands wrapped tightly around her spear. Soon the rest of the women joined and took off together. It was a powerful moment to witness and one you would’ve loved to be a part of, if it weren’t for your current situation. You closed your eyes in a somewhat successful effort to ease off the pain pulsating in your head.

“Man, those are some badass women,” Peter muttered as he sat down. “Wait—” He quickly looked around, but missed you completely. “Where’s my badass woman?” Peter frantically shuffled to his feet, hoping to see a flash of yellow zoom by, but no such luck. You tried to call out to him, wanting to let him know you were there, but your voice got caught in your throat, replaced by a cough that was followed by blood. The sound caught Peter’s attention, his gaze trying to find where it came from. His heart constricted in his chest when he finally caught sight of you and the state you were in.

In a flash, he was hovering over you, putting your own abilities to shame given the speed at which he got to you. Your eyes were still closed, as you relished the relief it gave you, but you were drifting off at this point and didn’t have the energy nor strength to open them again. That was until Peter started shaking you awake. “(Y/N)? Oh God, come on, please be okay.” You could hear the panic and desperation in his voice. Your eyes felt so heavy, it was almost impossible to open them, but you managed to do so, just enough to see Peter exhale in relief after seeing you respond.

Tucked away behind blood and dryness, you managed to find your voice and you raspily told him, “I’m okay, Peter. It’ll heal. Go help the others.” You took ragged breaths between each sentence, your lungs struggling to keep up. Peter could very much tell you weren’t okay and knew that with the amount of injuries you had suffered it was almost impossible for your regenerative abilities to save you.

“(Y/N), we both know that’s not happening; it’s too much. I mean, it might heal, but there are too many things to heal for you to survive waiting and—” He abruptly stopped his own rambling after he noticed you had closed your eyes again. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), please, stay with me.”

His voice was breaking and his eyes were starting to swell up with tears. It broke your heart to hear him like this. You fought to stay conscious, for his sake, but the blood loss and pain was becoming too great to bear and you felt yourself falling into a deep slumber once more.

Peter was getting desperate, tears freely flowing down his cheeks now. “Please, (Y/N/N), please don’t leave me.” He held your body close to his, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Sobs rocked his body as he kept begging for you to stay. His voice and your tear stained neck was the last thing you registered before you let go and fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

***

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time, I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there was ever such a thing. God, what a world! Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone, you know, to this extent, I mean I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, you know? The epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play. And for better or for worse, that’s the reality Morgan’s gonna have to find a way to grow up in. So, I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting... In case of an untimely death on my part. I mean, not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s—it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all—that’s the thing. Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. I love you 3,000.”

Pepper walked out of the cabin she and Tony had called home, holding a wreath that in its middle held Tony’s first arc reactor. Everyone stood out in front of the lake, waiting as she gently placed it on the water. She took her place beside Peter, who was silently crying as he held your emotionally devastated self in his arms. Having passed out when you did had ultimately saved your life, your body using its remaining energy in healing you rather than keeping you awake, but that meant you missed the events that led up to your victory and were therefore unable to say a proper farewell to the man who served as your mentor for years.

Waking up to the news that the man who had taken better care of you and had looked out for you more than your own parents was dead didn’t settle in easily. It took a while before you were able to accept he was gone.

Peter had been there for you every step of the way, holding you during all the sleepless nights you had spent crying and shaking you awake when your dreams became plagued with nightmares from the battle. Guilt had made a home in your heart, the feeling never leaving as you thought of ways you could have avoided getting injured, ways you could have fought better, ways that could have resulted in being able to say goodbye to Tony Stark, the man who sacrificed himself for the universe.

Everyone stood silently as you all watched the wreath float out of sight, before turning to share your condolences with each other. You held on to Peter tightly, as if he too were to slip from your fingers at any moment. You stood there mindlessly listening in on the nostalgic conversations between the people who cared for Tony. Looking around at everyone gathered, it became clear that the arc reactor which was now floating off in the lake was not the only proof that Tony Stark had a heart. All his friends, colleagues, family and adopted students were walking proof that not only did Tony Stark have a heart, but that he had the biggest heart a human could possibly have.

Taglist: @steveisherdaddy @apotatoinabigfield @xlostinobsessionsx @izjustafaze @yourlocalwhitemanwhore

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spookybreadstick · 4 years ago

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Hii Breadstick!! How you doing?? I am suffering with periods 😔🤚

I have a little request

what is the creeps’ biggest fear? Do they have any phobia?

-dancing parrot🐦🎶

ooo, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while!! (i also hope you feel better/are feeling better! periods suck!)

I think of the fears as two types: a “regular fear” that people either are aware of or that is more common, and a “deep dark fear” that nobody knows about and is either very specific or very uncommon. The ones that are marked as * are the ones that are Phobias with a capital P, and affect the individual the most. The ones without are ones that are fears but probably aren’t classified as a Phobia, if you know what I mean.

please be advised that this discusses fears and phobias, not in great detail, but it does discuss them and i don’t wish to trigger anyone!! read at your own risk

💞 💞 💞

🔪 Jeff 🔪

Regular Fear:

- pyrophobia* (fear of fire; stems from his traumatic incident where he was set on fire)

Deep Dark Fear:

- philophobia (fear of falling in love; stems from trauma surrounding the idea of romantic love)

- but he is also afraid of never being loved. It’s a catch-22.

🎮 BEN 🎮

Regular Fear:

- aquaphobia* (fear of water; stems from drowning),

- thalassophobia* (fear of the ocean; also stems from drowning),

Deep Dark Fear:

- apeirophobia (fear of infinity/the uncountable; stems from being dead & unable to move on)

🖤 Jane 🖤

Regular Fear:

- pyrophobia* (fear of fire; stems from when Jeff attempted to murder her),

- fear of being helpless* (stems from when Jeff attempted to murder her, she never wants to feel that helpless again),

Deep Dark Fear:

- monophobia (fear of being alone; stems from the murder of her parents)

🧣 Liu 🧣

Regular Fear:

- foniasophobia* (fear of murderers or being murdered; stems from nearly dying at the hands of a killer),

- thanatophobia* (fear of dying; stems from nearly dying),

Deep Dark Fear:

- fear that Sully will kill Jeff one day (Liu’s fear)/ fear that Liu will die at the hands of Jeff (Sully’s fear)*

- taphephobia (fear of being buried alive; stems from having a near death experience)

⏰ Clockwork ⏰

Regular Fear:

- being alone in a room with a man (stems from the abuse she faced as a child)

Deep Dark Fear:

- losing control of herself again (the last time she really lost control was when she put the clock in her eye and went on a mass murder spree)

- being abused the way she was as a child (this one obviously stems from childhood trauma)*

💄 Nina 💄

Regular Fear:

- losing the life she has built for herself because of another nervous breakdown (the last time she had a nervous breakdown she ended up at Slender Mansion, eventually, which was a blessing but did mean that she had to leave everything about her old life behind)

Deep Dark Fear:

- never finding someone who will truly love her (she is deeply afraid of being alone/never finding love, which stems from her own insecurities about her self-worth)*

🤍 EJ 🤍

Regular Fear:

- athazagoraphobia (fear of forgetting; this stems from memory loss that came with his transformation; there are two different definitions to this phobia and EJ has one while LJ has the other!)*

- losing complete control of his actions and doing things he would never normally do (this has happened before when he got too hungry, he never wants to go through that again)*

Deep Dark Fear:

- losing all sense of humanity*

- killing and eating a friend*

🍬 LJ 🍬

Regular Fear:

- athazagoraphobia (fear of being forgotten; this stems from when Issac forgot him in his box for his years; there are two different definitions to this phobia and EJ has one while LJ has the other!)*

- autophobia (fear of being alone; this stems from when Issac forgot about him)*

- claustrophobia (fear of small spaces; this is only to some extent, since he likes being in there of his own free will but not when he is forced)

Deep Dark Fear:

- apeirophobia (fear of infinity/the uncountable; stems from being an imaginary friend that came to life. He has no idea when or if he will die, and the thought of being alive for all eternity is quite frightening to him)

- his origins (he doesn’t know where he came from exactly, or how he quite came into being, which is pretty freaky when you think about it)

❓Hoodie❓

Regular Fear:

- losing Tim or Toby on a mission

Deep Dark Fear:

- thanatophobia (fear of death; he had this phobia ever since he was a child for some unknown reason)

🎭 Masky 🎭

Regular Fear:

- losing Toby or Brian on a mission, especially when he is supposed to be in charge of keeping everybody safe

Deep Dark Fear:

- losing Brian (not even just worried about losing him through death, but just losing his friendship scares Tim because he feels like Brian is the only person who understands him sometimes and Brian is the the one thing he has of his old life)

- being unlovable (he thinks of himself as an unlovable monster already)

🪓Toby🪓

Regular Fear:

- claustrophobia (fear of small spaces; this stems from childhood trauma)

- glossophobia (fear of public speaking; he had this fear ever since he was in middle school)

- cleithrophobia (fear of being trapped and unable to escape; this is anxiety stemming from his Tourette’s. He fears being in a situation where he knows he can’t have a tic, but he needs to, yet he is unable to remove himself from the situation)

- vehophobia (fear of driving; this comes both from having Tourette’s and being afraid to tic while driving, and from his sister’s car accident)*

- dystychiphobia (fear of being in a car accident; obviously this comes from being in that car wreck with his sister)*

Deep Dark Fear:

- everyone secretly hating him/judging him/laughing at him behind his back (this stems from anxiety surrounding his disorders & scarred face)*

- never being loved/being unlovable (he has a hard time believing that he is deserving of love or that anybody could love him in a romantic way)*

- his mother being afraid of him and never wanting to have anything to do with him (he has plenty of nightmares about this)*

- Lyra coming back from the dead to haunt him (he has plenty of nightmares about this as well)*

- his father coming back from the dead to haunt him/kill him/continue to abuse him (he has plenty of nightmares about this in addition to the others!)*

#🐦🎶#dancing parrot #dancing parrot 🦜#dancing parrot anon #dancing parrot this was a great request!!#fears #phobias #tw #🔪Jeff the Killer/Jeff Woods🔪#🖤Jane Arkensaw/Jane the Killer🖤#💄Nina the Killer/Nina Hopkins💄#⏰Clockwork/Natalie Ouellette⏰#🍬Laughing Jack/LJ🍬#🤍Eyeless Jack/EJ🤍#❓Hoodie/Brian Thomas❓#🎭Masky/Tim Wright🎭#🪓 toby rogers 🪓#creepypasta #spookybreadstick

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 4 years ago

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Helloaasaa, Aaaa request are open (excited dance) or please, our goddess, could you do? Yami's Fluff Alphabet (๑ ♡ ⌓ ♡ ๑)

Sure I can do that :) Sorry I took so long on this request! It took quite a while to make! I hope you enjoy this Sweet Anon!

Activities (What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?):

The sky's the limit with Atem and he'll do damn near anything with his S/O in his free time! But his favorite activity hands down with his S/O is dueling as one would expect. Nothing makes Atem happier than dueling with or beside his S/O!

Beauty (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?):

Physically Atem's favorite feature about his S/O is their eyes. They never lie to him and he can see right down to his S/O's soul. Personality wise Atem loves his S/O's tenacity and toughness and admires it to the point of flat-out simping! He thinks it's gorgeous when his fabulous man or woman goes off on someone and doesn't take shit from anyone, not even him!

Comfort (How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?):

Atem's first extinct is to ask his S/O what's wrong but he's smart enough to know that it only makes things worse. Instead he'll immediately rush to his S/O's side and start holding them, not even speaking unless he deems it necessary. Actions speak louder than words after all. If Atem's S/O is having a panic attack, he immediately knows what to do since he has many friends who suffer from anxiety.

Dreams (How do they picture their future with their s/o?):

This is something that Atem won't think about unless you ask. He prefers to live in the present and is just trying to get through what's happening right at the moment. Not to say that Atem doesn't picture a future with you at all but he just doesn't see the utter importance of it.

Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?):

Atem likes to think that he's the dominant one in the relationship when in actuality, it's a pretty even split. But there are times when Atem will have to give or take more and vice versa which he has no issue with.

Fight (Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?):

Fights with Atem are definitely gonna happen whether you want them to or not. Atem has pride for days and he can be a total prick at times so he needs someone who doesn't hesitate to put him in his place. Atem's way of fighting is playing the long game. He will NOT back down and he WILL push your buttons to the max! Atem isn't as merciless as he once was so he is definitely willing to forgive his S/O unless the fight was about something severe. In that case, Atem is gonna need some time before he can even think about making up with his S/O.

Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?):

Atem may seem like a brat but he's eternally grateful for everything that his S/O does for him and is fully aware of said things. Atem hates being taken for granted and he wouldn't dare dream of doing the same to his S/O!

Honesty (Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?):

Atem is pretty reserved so yes he does have secrets. He especially has a lot of skeleton booty in the closet but that's probably the only thing that he'll share with his S/O.....if they ask. Atem's reserved nature comes with one that values privacy. He keeps his cards close to his chest and finds it quite fun to be mysterious and hard to figure out.

Inspiration (Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?):

Atem has definitely changed since getting with his S/O! One of the main ways is that he's learned to pick his battles and to sometimes accept the loss and move on. Atem's commitment and trust issues have also been overcome and he's become more grounded and less fickle as a result.

Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?):

As hypocritical as it may seem, yes Atem does get jealous and he can be childish when dealing with it. Being the former player that he was before getting with his S/O, he's no fool when it comes to how other people can be when it comes to relationships. Game recognize game! If you can't avoid the person that Atem is jealous of, then he'll make your relationship known using PDA that he normally wouldn't do. Under normal circumstances, Atem will make his jealousy known and if you call him out on his hypocrisy, prepare yourself for an argument! A jealous pharaoh is not a good pharaoh!

Kiss (Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?):

Of course Atem is a good kisser! He's had lots of practice over the past 5000+ years after all! His first kiss with his S/O was romantic and passionate and it happened in the rain which made for an excellent atmosphere!

Love Confession (How would they confess to their s/o?):

Atem would talk to you in private and he would just be honest and upfront about how he feels before asking you out on a date. Short, sweet, and to the point!

Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?):

Atem acts like he doesn't wanna get married but he does. Deep down inside, he truly does. He just denies it because of past heartbreak. Once Atem knows for certain that he wants to marry you (which will definitely take a few years), he'll propose to you in front of thousands of people after he wins a big dueling tournament and of course the crowd (and the paparazzi) will go wild! Your marriage with Atem will be one hell of an adventure and it'll have many ups and downs but it'll all be worth it in the end because Atem will treat you like the King/Queen you are!

Nicknames (What do they call their s/o?):

Atem's most common nickname for his S/O is "My King/Queen". Atem will also shorten your name if he can to make things more personal between you two. Other nicknames Atem likes to use will be Honey, Darling, and Sweetheart.

On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?):

Atem's behavior when he's in love starts to change pretty quickly so it's obvious to people who know him. He changes his phone and computer wallpaper to a picture of you, he has your number in his phone as " My King/Queen", and he's 100% loyal to you! No flirting with other people and he rejects any and all offers for dates/flings. Atem's love language is Acts Of Service so he expresses his feelings by doing things for his S/O and sacrificing his time to do said things. To him, actions speak louder than words and he wants to make his feelings for you as clear as possible.

PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?):

Atem is very upfront about the relationship but only in a subtle way. He doesn't like drawing unneccesary attention to himself and he doesn't wanna embarrass his S/O either. Atem will only share info about his S/O if they want him to. He prefers to be more verbal when it comes to PDA. His physical affection in public isn't much but it speaks volumes. The most he'll do is wrap his arms around you and give you lingering kisses on your cheek and neck. Hugs and kisses are only reserved for hellos and goodbyes.

Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.):

Being 5,000+ years old gives Atem a lot of intelligence so if you wanna know things about various times in history, he's got your back! He also knows lots of random trivia and is very good at game shows like Who Wants To Be A Millionaire!

Romance (How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?):

Atem is definitely a romantic guy and he'll pull out all the stops to make his S/O happy! He's pretty cliche when it comes to romance. Candlelit dinners, roses, walks on the beach, the works! Atem tries to be creative but in the end, the tried and true methods work for him much better!

Support (Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?):

Move over Tea! Atem's the #1 cheerleader in this bitch! Whatever your goals are, he'll support you and make sure you achieve them no matter how long it takes! He believes in you to the fullest and he wants you to be the best version of yourself!

Thrill (Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?):

Atem lives for the thrill! Without it, your relationship with him is doomed. Atem gets bored easily so he's always looking for ways to spice things up between you two and he would appreciate it if you do the same as well. Variety is the spice of life and Atem wants to live it to the fullest with his S/O!

Understanding (How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?):

Atem tries to know his partner the best he can but there are times when he'll fall short and misunderstandings will be had. This is where communication comes in. As long as you explain yourself to Atem, he'll be quite empathetic and understanding, especially if he's been through the same thing himself.

Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?):

Atem's relationship with his S/O definitely means a lot to him but that doesn't mean he's willing to give up everything he's ever known to be with you. Yes Atem will give up his player days and be 100% faithful to you but that's the biggest change you'll get. Atem's not giving up anything else that makes him happy. Your relationship is worth a lot to him but he's not an idiot and tries to balance things as much as possible so his priorities are kept straight.

Wild Card (A random Fluff Headcanon.):

Atem likes it when he and his S/O wear similar or even matching clothing. Especially if it's spiky and/or leather-based! He wants his S/O to always look good!

XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?):

Atem loves affection especially in private! You'll definitely be getting many kisses and cuddles from him! Atem prefers physical over verbal affection but he'll deliver the latter just as well. He knows how to lay on the charm and make his S/O feel like the most important person in the world with the sweet words flowing out of his mouth!

Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?):

If Atem has to be away from you for a long period of time, he'll definitely miss you but he's not gonna die without you. He'll keep in steady contact with you but he won't smother you either. Atem respects his S/O's space and doesn't want them to feel that way.

Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?):

It may not seem like it but Atem is a true ride or die kind of guy! He'll do anything for the sake of your relationship and for your sake in general! To give an example of what kind of lengths Atem would go to for you, if you're ever down on your luck in any kind of way, he'll literally give you his entire savings account if it would save you from financial ruin! That's just how loyal Atem is to you! Just don't take it for granted or you'll regret it!

#Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh #yami yugi #Atem #atem headcanons #yami yugi headcanons #fluff alphabet #alphabet headcanons #yugioh headcanons #answering lalala

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drakesdevils · 4 years ago

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The Five Stages of Grief (Sam Drake x Reader) PART TWO

PART ONE

Summary: Samuel Drake is dead to the world, stuck in a prison for a crime he did not commit for the rest of eternity.

Uncharted Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader Masterlist)

Two years stuck with Rafe Adler. Two years of living in Scotland in a grand apartment he hated. Two years of having to see Rafe’s smug face every month while Sam busted his ass looking in the Saint Dismas Cathedral. Just when he thought he was free, he was practically owned by Rafe. He had no personal money and nowhere to go so he stayed.

Most nights he drowned himself in booze, hookers, nicotine, anything that would quell the ache in his heart. After years and years of solitude, Sam thought he deserved the party. Rafe didn’t care that Sam spent his money on such foolish things, he was filthy rich, Sam bought more cigarette boxes than he could count, a pack of cigarettes in prison was like a goldbar, so he stocked up on them to feel rich. Force of habit. But it did not stop the guilt, it felt wrong to sleep with other women, it felt wrong to drink without you. He missed you, he did, but he knew that chapter was over.

But eventually he got tired of it, he had found enough clues to gather his own case and look for Henry Avery’s treasure with Nathan. He had been keeping tabs on Nathan, it was true, he had been married, worked for some diving company. He had even found a few of Nathan’s old contacts, a flirtatious woman named Chloe and a brute British man named Cutter. He had them both sworn to secrecy, both of them would rather Nathan be oblivious and remain in his happy, boring, normal life.

He was too afraid to look you up.

Sam felt guilty about coming so abruptly into Nathan’s life again. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but Rafe did not deserve the treasure and it was him and his brother’s legacy to find it. He wondered how Nathan would react to finding out his older brother was alive.

He tracked down Saint Dismas’ cross weeks ago. So here he stood, knocking on his little brother’s work, early in the morning. His heart was pounding wildly.. he was finally seeing Nathan. Guilt wrecked havoc inside of him, he knew it was wrong to lie to him, to come so suddenly back into his life. But Sam needed the adventure, it was selfish but he had earned it.

“We’re not open yet,” Nathan called out.

It was really him.

Sam knocked again, louder.

“We’re closed!” Nathan shouted back.

Sam knocked insistently.

“Come on, man, alright! I’m coming, I’m coming..” Nathan huffed. He heard the door click..

“Yeah, can I help you?”

“Yeah I’m uh, looking for my little brother. He’s about your height, a little bit leaner, definitely less grays in the temple.”

Nathan’s eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Sam?”

Hearing Nathan say his name again was like music to his ears, he never even thought he would see him again. Nathan was older now, he looked different but it was still him. He was still his baby brother.

“It’s good to see you again, Nathan.”

•••

“And you’re sure he’s in this motel?” You confirmed, Elena nodded, anger spread across her face. She was so disappointed in him.

“I’m certain. A name was registered under ‘Harry Flynn’.”

“Really? He chose Flynn?” You rolled your eyes. Elena shot you a look, not the time for jokes..

You walked her to the motel, you managed to bribe the receptionist for a key to the room. King’s Bay was humid, your clothes stuck to you making every movement more uncomfortable.

Elena called you two nights ago, she explained that she believed Nathan was lying to her, and that Sully had all but confirmed it. Sully didn’t outright say yes or no, but she knew. You lived in New Orleans with them, a few streets over from their house. Elena was your best friend. Nathan was like your brother. So, here you were, King’s Bay. Walking into a rundown motel, ready to confront her idiot husband. You were upset with Nathan too, especially for hurting Elena. There was shitstorm brewing, and you would undoubtedly take Elena’s side.

Elena looked back at you, you looked at her with sympathy.

“Good luck,” You said to her, giving her a quick hug. She nodded and shut the door, you went around the corner to wait for her.

God, Nathan was so dumb, you leaned against the wall and waited. King’s Bay was nice this time of the year, besides the humidity. Maybe if things got messy you would take a walk around the block. What Nathan and Elena were about to step into was personal.. you didn’t want to be anywhere near that right now.

A motorcycle pulled up to the motel, you heard Nathan begin talking. Something about a chase? Shoreline? What the hell was he going on about? You didn’t want to risk it, they could easily spot you if you even popped your head around the corner.

They entered the room.

Silence for a few minutes, you tapped your foot nervously. Elena needed you right now. The humidity was especially suffocating, or maybe it was because you were anxious too.

Then you heard her exit quietly and you let our the breath you had been holding.

“Elena!” You called out to her. “What happened?”

Elena continued walking, she wanted to get as far away from that room as possible. “He lied to me, again. All he does is lie,” She said bitterly fighting back tears.

You walked quickly to catch up with her stride, you were around the corner before she spoke again.

“I- I can’t do this anymore,” She told you, her voice cracking. She shook her head in disbelief.

“Elena, just breathe. What happened?” You said calmly, glancing back at the room.

“He’s looking for some pirate treasure - Henry Avery.”

Henry Avery..? Sam’s, Henry Avery? What the hell was going on.

“And, now he has a brother?” She breathed out.

“What?” Nathan brought up Sam?

“He told me his name is Sam. Nathan looks just like him,” Elena replied, she watched the confusion fill your eyes.

“He showed you a photo of Sam?”

“No, he’s in there. In the room.” She pointed to the motel.

You were speechless, you stared at the door. It couldn’t be true. There was no way.

“What’s going on?” Elena asked, she was the one being kept in the dark.

“I-“ You were at loss of words. There was no way he was in there, it simply wasn’t possible. Sam Drake was dead, you buried him years ago, but your eyes were fixed on the door. There was no way..

“Who is Sam?” She repeated, she was becoming worried.

“Sam is Nathan’s older brother.. he died years ago in a Panamanian jail.. Nathan and I don’t like talking about him,” You confessed, snapping out from your trance to look at her.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We were dating.. And then fifteen years ago he died.. he told me was going to marry me after he found Henry Avery’s treasure.” Sam Drake was dead.. he died years and years ago.

“What?”

“It’s not possible.. he’s dead, Elena. Sam is dead and he’s been that way for a long time.” You blinked back tears, and yet your eyes kept trailing to that door.

“He’s in there. Sully even told me that it was him.”

“It can’t be true,” You mumbled.

“Just.. go, I’ll be waiting here for you,” She urged you to go to the door.

You nodded, that door felt like miles away, it felt like every step you took it got farther. Until you were right in front of it.

There’s no way..

You knocked.

“Elena?” Nathan opened the door quickly, expecting to see her instead.

You gathered your thoughts.

“Elena.. told me that she saw Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah she did..” Nathan trailed off, his voice quiet.

“What?” You could feel the tears coming on strong now.

“Sam?” Nathan turned around and called out his name.

Nathan moved out of the way, and suddenly there he was.

“Hi.”

Now you were truly speechless.

“No.. I.. I buried you a long time ago.”

“I’m still here.” It was like your hearts were beating as one, you couldn’t believe it, Sam was really here.

Tears fell from your eyes like silent raindrops.

“I’m home. I came back like I said.”

Sam promised you that he would come back and marry you.. except he lied. Nathan never told you the details of what happened to save your sanity.. but you assumed it was not a peaceful death. It kept you up at night.. thinking of how Sam probably suffered.

He stepped closer to you, walking slowly and fragile, like you were going to shatter.

“How?”

“I lived. Doctor patched me up and threw me back in,” He explained, he was right in front of you. You wanted to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real.

“If I knew you were still alive, I would-” Your voice broke.

“Shh.. I know. I know. I don’t blame you for anything.”

He pulled you into a hug. He was real.. he felt the same, his hug was still strong and secure and safe. He still smelt the same, he still loved you the same.

“God, I missed you so much,” You sobbed into his chest, he brushed your hair down. You were out of a sync without him.

Sam was dreading the day he would have had to knock on your door and disrupt everything, but instead, you knocked on his. He was scared to face you, to see how you changed without him. It was supposed to be you and him against the world.

Sam asked Nathan not to talk about you when they were in Italy.. Nathan was confused but he agreed. It was too painful for Sam to hear how you had gone to live your life without him in it.

“I missed you too,” He replied. It felt so good to hug you, two years ago he never thought he would ever even see you again, but now you were here in his arms. It felt.. almost wrong.. underneath that happiness there was the current of selfishness. You were a married woman.. he shouldn’t take so much pleasure in being hugged by you. But god, he did. He lied to Nathan and he was going to have to lie to you too.

You let your emotions get the best of you, you took his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes and you kissed him, feeling the tears drip down the side of your face.

Sam pushed you away after a few moments.. he looked shamefully away.

“We shouldn’t..”

You blinked in surprise. You were so stupid to have thought that things would be the same.

“Why?”

“Your husband.”

“What husband?” You asked.

“You’re married, aren’t you?”

You lifted up your left hand, “I was saving it for you.”

Rafe lied. He felt his blood get hot.. Rafe lied to him, took two years away from him and you being together, all to get Sam to stay.

You kissed him again, you really kissed him. He melted into your touch, all that anger and pain went away. All those years in prison meant nothing now, he was here and you were here. All those beatings, nightmares, pain, it meant absolutely nothing in your arms. And he was kissing you so lovingly, it was a welcome home kiss. It was a kiss that was a promise, that he would never leave your side again. And you knew it was true. It felt like it lasted forever, and you did not mind forever. Especially with how much time you lost being with him, forever seemed better than good.

•••

#samuel drake x reader #Sam drake x reader #Sam drake #uncharted 4 #uncharted #Nathan drake

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nell0-0 · 4 years ago

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One day (you learn to let go) #3

Idea adopted from Firehedgehog’s Idea Factory!

A very long time ago, Fate grabbed a Sans and twisted him into Error.

Every 25-100 years, Fate’s magic wanes and Error transforms back into his past self. The only thing this Sans knows is that he seems to be skipping through time.

Ink, meanwhile, is the only one that knows what’s going on as Error doesn’t remember when his true self, Geno, wakes up.

A slash of red over the white

He felt like he was floating, just drifting in a seamless white void. How much time had passed, he did not know, but neither did he care.

His body felt heavy, too warm and cozy to even lift a finger, never mind his tired and heavy eye-sockets.Besides, even if he woke up, what would await for him?

It had been so long... But it was always the same. It was just himself by his lonesome, only his thoughts and musings to keep him company. And even then, he couldn't help but feel betrayed by his own mind.

Who was he? Why was he here? Why him?

Just... Why?

The probability of ever getting an answer seemed farther and farther as time passed, but he had nothing else to do but wonder, question, imagine.

Such was the burden of lonely existences like his. It had always been like that, too, had it not? Well, maybe not at the beginning. Maybe he had had friends, a warm home, a loving family... Maybe, just maybe, he had had the opportunity of sharing bad laughs, eating bad food. Living.

He wanted to live again.

But alas, he knew it wasn't for him. It hadn't been for a long time, it wouldn't be now either. How could he be so sure if he didn't even remember his own name? He just had a feeling.

Maybe his mind betrayed him – was he so far gone before that that fact didn't elicit any reaction, any surprise at all from him? – but his very core, his torn up soul, it remembered... somewhat.

It wasn't like the mind. The body.Those were material, temporary. Dust they were and dust they would become. The soul was what mattered for monsters. And his was just glad that this was a never ending white, not black, for whatever reason. The loneliness, the suffering... it felt familiar, like the embrace of a long lost friend. Like the hug of a mother to her new born son.

Or something like that. How would he know? He didn't even know who he was. Who he had been.

Alone. Always alone. That word resounded with him in a way no other word he had thought up did. He was alone, as he had spent oh so much time before. But this felt different.

It was too quiet, too warm, too nice.It felt like the calm before the storm, the last seconds of life before the guillotine went down, before his being just ceased to exist. Before he cracked and became dust. Was this the afterlife? He felt cheated. Like he should have met someone on the way in if he ever died.

Who, though? There was nothing butDeath when you died. It was a ridiculous notion.

Drifting, his muddled mind identified what bothered him on this scenario the most. It wasn't the pain on his chest, the liquid dropping from his mouth, or even the ache on his skull around his right eye-socket. Neither was the static on the background, even if he wondered why hadn't it given him a headache.Was he so used to the sound by now that it didn't bother him?

Just how much time he had passed inhere.

He was rambling on his own thoughts.Focus, he told himself, his bone brow furrowing before his expression smoothed out again.

(Don't let them see you're aware. They're always looking. Always? Always.)

What bothered him the most, was the white. Why should he fear the white, when it was the complete opposite of what gave him such dread? It wasn't the darkest of darks, where everything blurred together until you couldn't tell up from down, left from right. Where nothing existed, but at the same time, there he was.

That ominous and hated color that was, at the same time, cherished in some distant part of his soul.

He didn't understand.

The black meant pain, loneliness, madness. A madness that slowly overtook his mind, little by little, chipping away at his mind.

(Why was it so hated when the white did the same thing? Because of the consequences, determination, our fault. Fault of what? What did we do? We didn't succeed. But what was it? ...)

Black also meant freedom, the wings to fly free and away from all these hardships that tormented him daily.Solace. Security. Home.

Love.

Was it the black, the color? Was he just associating things, people, places... to a color, just so it wouldn't ran away from him like the rest of his thoughts and memories did?

Black. All black. A flash of white and sometimes blue. It kept him going, trying to stay determined, to keep existing when thoughts of giving up assaulted him. Of completely letting goof what made him and his mind, his memories, his soul. Surrendering to the white.

Maybe there was someone waiting for him to wake up.

The fuffliness around him was warm, cozy. It kept him sleeping.

He couldn't breath.

He longed for the black, the comfort it would bring. To be able to be near the black again, just once more. He's sure the black would love that, and even he didn't know if the black was a place, a thing, or a person.

_____________________

Once again, he noticed the smoldering white all around him. Was it better to not feel at all like he had been previously or keep being suffocated in this place, he wondered. Awareness seemed like a curse now that he noticed the lack of it previously.

That felt familiar, somehow.

He was at a loss. Was there a particular reason for this to happen or was he just that fucked up. How did he even end up here and why. How could he have avoided it if that was even possible. Questions tormented his mind, for that was the only thing he had left at the moment.

He didn't dare move, open his eyes, anything, just in case the eyes were back to watch his every move. The eyes felt powerful and a feeling of despair filled him just at the thought. The eyes, multiple ones, belonged to someone. Who that someone was, now that was the million dollar question.

But even if he didn't know who they belonged to, he could feel the intent behind them. The intent to hurt, to bury him so deep he wouldn't be able to surface again.

He didn't need his eyes to see, his ear canals to hear. His consciousness still felt everything around him, as if in an out of body experience.

While he slept, he noticed the stares, the glares. Now that he had been made aware of them he couldn't help it. It was maddening. He couldn't feel them at the moment, but should he risk it?

Not even a twitch, not even the slightest movement that could out him as conscious of his surroundings. Nothing. Just remain white, blank... Like this place.

While wondering, debating with himself if movement was worth it, he noticed the increase in pressure, the wild static and the stares returning to watch him again.

Never mind then.

_____________________

It was not the only time he noticed the pressure leave, that uncomfortable feeling that filled him with dread and an unfathomable rage. He didn't know he was capable of such intensity in feelings after forcing himself to remain blank for so long, but oh well.

It was not like he could remember much of anything.

He didn't breath, he didn't move. He just... kind of existed on this limbo.

He gave up on searching for answers around him, focusing all his efforts on himself. His soul. Or rather, fragment of a soul.

And hadn't that been a shock when he found out? At first, he thought his name was Sans. And while that seemed correct to him, it also sounded... lacking.

He had the hypothesis of this being named Sans being his original self, back when his (or should he say theirs? Definitely theirs) soul wasn't broken apart, a whole monster. But what was his name now, if not Sans.

Geno. Geno was his name, short for Genocide. How... morbid. But fitting, in a sense. He very much doubted it was because he killed an entire race, but it could be. He definitely had the rage inside himself, that very same feeling that caught him off guard, to pull trough with that.

Was he the one to do genocide, the one who planned it, or the one who survived it? And there was the question again, that crucial one, that part of himself that asked if he had even survived at all.

(Geno. Genocide. Aftertale Sans. We need to remember, even if it hurts. Will it hurt? Oh, definitely. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Remember. Remember! R E M E M B E R!)

His finger twitched and he tensed, before forcing himself to relax.

Blank, he reminded himself. He had to remain blank.

_____________________

It felt great to finally have a name just for himself. He repeated it over and over, just so he wouldn't forget it again.

Geno. Geno. Geno!

He didn't want to forget who he was once again. He wouldn't forget his name again. He wouldn't!

He refused.

G E N O.

And with that, he went under once again.

_____________________

How much time had passed between the last flash of clarity he had had? It felt like an eternity. Days? Weeks? Months?

...Years?

He didn't notice the eyes. The stares, the glares. There was nothing around him. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was glad he had yet another break. They didn't feel like enough, but then again, he used to use every excuse he had to take more and more breaks. Of that he was certain, even if he didn't know how he remembered. It seemed both right and wrong.

Probably something he had done way back when he was still just Sans, then.

Was his other self missing him? Did the rest of the soul of that being named Sans notice something amiss? Maybe Geno had just slipped away, on an endless limbo.

Geno knew he needed to stop thinking about maybes or what ifs, else he goes mad... or rather, madder. He was pretty sure having a dialogue this complex with yourself was a sign for insanity.

Still, this break had been longer than some in the past. He was grateful.

There were always the weird minute, mere seconds, when he felt free. Like he could feel, think, fucking breath-

But every time he felt the hope gathering in his soul fragment, the possibility of getting out of this weird place... The warmth, the smothering heat, hated and despised with everything he had, always came back to envelop itself around Geno.

He noticed his hope break over and over again. Being stomped on, shattered, broken apart. Still, he couldn't help himself from hoping once more. Geno just needed the perfect moment to break free, a break long enough for him to wake up.

WAKE UP AND REMEMBER.

_____________________

Lately, the breaks weren't all that nice. He was still grateful he had them at all, but he felt restless, stressed.

On these breaks, bits and pieces of a life full of sorrow and guilt tormented him. The images were usually blurry, too fast to process anything, but the feelings of them stayed behind. The feelings were almost always the same, too. They weren't really nice, if he was being honest with himself.

But even so, it was fulfilling in a way. There was always the nice warmth of a special someone. Of family, friends. Good times in general. Even the care and love of a lover...?

He had a happy ending, he knew that much. So how did he end up on the white?

Tiredness. Numbness. The flash of a knife. Pain. Pain unlike any he had ever felt before, like he was about to keel over and die, his body becoming dust and becoming one with the wind. Scattered gray particles of something that used to be a person. A person with hopes, dreams.

“So... I guess that's it, huh? Just.... Don't say I didn't warn you.”

The feeling of his limbs falling apart, failing him. Dust to dust as some would say. Hot liquid poured from his chest, his mouth. The burning on his hands as he tried to stop the flow of that precious red liquid that was supposed to be kept inside himself. Resignation. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

(Not the first time...? No, definitely not. Oh.)

There had been nothing he could have done differently. He was doomed to loose from the beginning, even if he won the battle. He knew that. Sans would always be trapped on this endless cycle of dying, being brought to life to see everyone he knew and loved back being killed mercilessly and then die again.

It would always be like that.

But it didn't stay that way. For Sans, maybe. But definitely not for Geno.

There had been something different, something that created Geno as he was before the white. A syringe full of determination before the fight.

A black void. Feeling incomplete.

To be expected, since he was just a fragment of a soul. He was supposed to belong into Sans' soul, they both were missing a part of themselves, even if Geno's was more noticeable since his whole soul, the culmination of his very being, was just a tenth of a soul.

“I'm tired of all this fighting... Aren't you?”

He had met Sans again. Or what was left of Sans, after Geno became his own person. They were very similar, almost a mirror image of the other.

But he knew, he was way too different now to ever go back to being just one and the same with his other self.

“Feels like I'm looking straight into a mirror.”

His other self, the one who had the main part of their soul... The better part, The part that could feel compassion, love, happiness. The one who longed for peace, the easygoing one.

His other self was soft, kind.

Sans was a fool.

But the question was, was Geno a fool as well?

“You remember when I killed everyone, Sans?!”

He didn't know. All he did was to avoid more suffering, more pain. To avoid at all costs another genocide to the hands of that damned brat. For everyone. For Papyrus.

“Hahaha! You must really hate your friends!”

Oh how much he loathed- no, hated, Chara.

But even with all this new knowledge of his life he had acquired, there was still something missing. It felt like there was something else very important and dear to him. Or rather, a someone.

That's right. The black.

“I die, when I say I die.”

Heh, right. Geno was one determined asshole. He still had to kick that good for nothing mightier than thou skelegod's ass. He wasn't finished yet, no matter how much the white suffocated him, made him stay blank and his essence fade.

It was not his time yet.

“You did it. I know you did. You spiked the punch!”

Geno refused.

“Hey there. Still having a terrible time?”

The black. He... He was important, crucial to all this mess. Geno just knew it. How, though?

That lazy figure, menacing on his posture but there was only gentleness to be found on his eyelights. The soft touch of a caring being, wonder like no other towards the very own Geno. Soft kisses shared on the little patch of grass, away from everything.

The pain, the lonliness, the madness. The black made him able to stay how he was.

Missed chances, small moments and gestures that meant the world to him. Shared nights under a beautiful sky full of stars, their passion and love shared between each other in a bond of souls. Oh, how he loved that idiot.

Black meant home. He meant family.

“Shut up, I've given up Papyrus' scarf for that kid!”

But that family wasn't just reduced to the two of them. Leaving the mess of an AU Aftertale was aside, not including neither Papyrus nor Gaster, Geno's family grew.

Where there was once two, then there were three. And more would come with time. At first, it was like a miracle. For how could Death and an eternally dying being create new life?

But it happened.

“Gothy, dear, not right now. It's three am.”

Oh, how much Geno adored his little one. So, so similar to himself on appearance and clothing, yet so undeniably the black's (Death's?) kid on everything else.

That seemingly impossible life that defied everything, that pulled through even after having everything stacked against his existence. And more would come after him.

Goth. Raven. Sorell. Shiro. Geha. Gina. Momo. Reo. Nomi. Karmic. Levi. Silver. Beyond...

Wow, that was a lot of children. What were they trying to create, an army of godlings of Death?

“My dear Genocide, why were you crying?”

Was he crying? Maybe on the inside, as he made sure his expression hadn't changed. Still as blank as ever on the outside.

How unsettling.

How would he even explain that to Death? If the black was even named that. It felt correct, but the longer he thought about it, the more he was certain there was another name he should call him.

A name that wouldn't make his love show that resignation, that deep sadness that always seemed to follow him at the beginning. The hatred of what he was, what he represented. The job imposed on him that he hated.

What was the name? He... Geno needed to know. He needed to-

“In desperation, I hoped that once I killed the kid... that I might have enough determination to surpass theirs...”

No, go back. GO BACK! He needed to know, he didn't want to let go. This was the beginning of the end, he just knew it. He wanted to go back, he didn't want this ending at all if it meant he had to give up the rest. The black, Death, he-

Reaper!

“I gotta believe things will work out for us this time, you know?”

Papyrus was alive, alive and well. He was glad. Still, that may have been his Papyrus, his very own brother-

But he had more family to worry about. Little ones that depended on him. Babybones, even.

Reaper, stop this. Stop it. STOP ME!

“To reset timelines. To change outcomes? Sounds more like a curse than a blessing.”

No, he didn't want this anymore. He wanted to go back.

Back to that huge house, Death's Manor, the one he shared with his husband the times he decided to go outside Aftertale. The little garden he cared for on the backyard, where he would get mad at Raven and Goth for playing on it and ruining it. The little pond of water where Shino liked to sit and hum, playing with his feet splashing water everywhere. The random spots he would find Nomi on, sleeping away the day and night with a smile on his face. Momo modeling her latest outfit in front of Reo and baby Karmic. Levi and Silver pulling pranks on Beyond and causing a huge mess.

The quiet kitchen where he liked to cook for the little ones. The sofa he would laze on with Reaper on the unusual free day.

"I'm just so... tired..."

REAPER, PLEASE-

So tired indeed.

_____________________

Geno opened his eyes. They felt heavy and he couldn't really focus on anything at the moment. Struggling, he noticed white around him.

Was all that he had been dreaming a reality? Surely, it couldn't be.

With a groan of pain, he sat up and rubbed his skull. Just what had happened to him to ache all over. If this was Reaper's fault again, that skelegod was in for the bad time of his life.

Blinking, he looked at his hands until he could properly see them. They were the usual, dull white, a gray tinge to them that betrayed his sickly state that would accompany him forever. A small price to keep living even after being exposed to Death magic everyday, he supposed.

He didn't know why he had expected something different instead, but no need to worry about that now. He needed to figure out how to exit this place that seemed as endless as the Void looming over him on the Save Screen.

Why was it white and not black if it was a Void, though? Was this some kind of weird inverted Void or something? An Anti-Void?

...that was catchy. Yeah, Anti-Void. He would use that.

All this white around him made him uneasy. Looking up, he finally noticed some color. Instead of the 'continue' and 'reset' buttons he was almost half expecting, there were blue strings that seemingly hanged from nowhere in particular. They were just... there.

And wait, were those souls?! And dolls?!

"Yeah, nope. So much nope. I'm not dealing with that right now, no way. Creepy fucker who did that is probably psycho or some sort of serial killer, I don't want anything to do with that."

But he noticed with dread that no matter how much he walked, he could still see the strings. They glowed brightly against the white... everything. How was he supposed to even get out of here if there was nothing else?

So he got up and started walking.

He walked and walked. And then walked some more. He had the urge to start screaming. Someone would hear, right? Someone would come, help him, get him out from this uncomfortable place!

But the irrational fear of voices screaming back at him stopped him.

Eventually, he stumbled upon a bean bag. It was a deep blue with yellow stitched and red patches. It was an eyesore, that's what it was.

Geno, of course, loved it immediately.

"Well, I may be trapped in a place with no escape, probably with a crazy serial killer somewhere on this Anti-Void or whatever... But at least they have good taste."

He sat down on it and sighed, his body sagging on the bean bag.

"Definitely good taste" Geno purred. This bean bag was glorious, the most comfortable ever. He wondered what the filling was.

(You don't want to know. Don't I? Believe me, you don't. Why, though? The filling? Yeah? It's dust. Oh... OH, OH SHIT-)

Geno felt like this bean bag was too good to be true, a sudden uneasiness from his soul piece made him get up. Really, the one thing that could comfort him and his soul seemed too wary of it to even get near it.

He had to hand it to Reaper. He really was a masochist.

_____________________

Ink felt a bit apprehensive, but he was way too excited to tell Error the news with actual proof this time to take the glitch's feelings into consideration too much. Which, happened more times that he would like to admit, but whatever.

He felt his body slowly loosing his form, his bones melting into ink, dissolving and disappearing from sight. His now liquid form sliding through ground, soil, code. Twisting, morphing and adapting to all shapes and forms in order to pass through the gapes of the Multiverse needed to reach his destination, the Anti-Void.

With a splash, he noticed his body landing harshly against floor. It felt weirdly like nothing was there, but at the same time he couldn't phase through the ground anymore. He had arrived to the Anti-Void, then.

Nice.

Now, he only needed to go over Error's spot, where he had all his stuff. His chocolate, his knitting stuff, the famous bean bag that the glitch wouldn't share no matter how much Ink insisted. His friend was mean like that, but he still liked him just like that, grouchiness and moodiness and all.

Getting near, he heard the static. That was a sign of the presence of Error, the normal one that alerted him of the Forced God of Destruction's presence.

With the kind of guy Error was, Ink was grateful for the warning.

Although, this time around, the static sounded less... Aggressive, for lack of a better word. Softer, less harsh. He like to paint stuff, not write poetry.

He hopped on place and, to avoid the Anti-Void's weird take on physics, once he saw the beanbag he just teleported over there.

"Hey there, Errorrrr?" Blinking, Ink's smile dropped as he stared at the skeleton who definitely wasn't the black boned glitchy one he had come looking for. Was this guy the one letting out that static? No wonder it sounded different! "I didn't know Error had even more friends, how cool! Did you come visit him too?"

Ink was beaming again, but his expression got more and more forced the longer the other skeleton just stared at him in disbelief.

"Who's Error?"

Now, now. This surely wasn't what it looked like... right? "Tall, black boned glitchy dude that has error signs all over him? The only one who lives on this place?"

At the blank look he received, there was an ugly feeling churning on his soul.

"Don't know him."

"Oh, well... Then why did you come here? There's, heh" he was getting nervous at all the white surrounding him. He never liked the color, reminded the Forced Creator too much of Fate. "There's not much else to do here and I really doubt Error would just leave you roam on this place."

"I haven't seen anyone here before you."

Poor guy, the unknown skeleton in front of him was obviously shaken. Maybe an accident? But it didn't seem likely with how careful Error was with his portals and personal space. That guy and his haphephobia, honestly.

"Okay, then. I'm just gonna go-"

"Wait! You..." the bleeding skeleton adjusted his scarf. A nervous tick, maybe? "You know how to exit this place?"

Ink inhaled sharply. So maybe it was exactly what it looked like.

Well, his friend just gained himself a whack with Broomie on the back of his skull. Error was so dead after this, Ink thought they were over this kind of thing!

Please let this be a misunderstanding and not another Blueberror scenario.

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stevesnailbat · 5 years ago

Text

pushing limits | steve harrington

REQUESTS USED:

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a Steve Harrington smut where the reader rides his thigh and face?

I would be interested in some dom!steve stuff! Pleeeease!

Please write some dom! Steve smut!

summary: Steve and his girlfriend want to spice up their love life by trying out something new, but Steve might have pushed the limits a little too much.

warnings: dom!Steve, whole lotta smut, vibrator use, overstimulation, thigh riding, oral (fem!receiving), use of safe word

word count: 1.7K

a/n: i got a littlllle carried away with this fic, but i really enjoyed writing this. so enjoy!

Steve felt his girlfriend’s arms wrap around his waist as he stood at the stove, finishing up the pasta he was making for dinner. A smile grew on his face as she kissed his neck, running her fingers through his hair as she peeled over his shoulder.

“Almost ready?” she asked and he hummed in response while turning the stove off. “It smells great.”

“It’s ready now and I’m sure it tastes as good as it sm—Oh shit.” he said as he turned around, seeing what his girlfriend was wearing making him stop in his tracks.

“What, Stevie?” she teased as she played with the string of her robe, teasing Steve by exposing her bare chest to let him know she wasn’t wearing anything under it. “We’re spicing it up tonight, aren’t we?”

“Yeah—Yeah, we definitely are. I didn’t expect you to be dressed like that for dinner, though.” he chuckled, pulling her into a strong embrace. “I don’t know if I’m gonna last with you sitting there like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to handle your hard-on for thirty minutes, Steve.” she giggled, sliding out of his arms to grab a plate.

“I hope so.” he remarked while pulling her backside to his front as she scooped out some pasta, making her gasp when she felt his length already growing against her. “You just look so sexy, and it’s all for me, my sweet girl.”

She held back a whimper as he teased her nipple through the thin robe, making her melt against his body for a moment. His breath against her neck was hot and she could tell his demeanor was changing as time went on, meaning his dominant side was coming out that night.

“Maybe we can just eat later—“ she started, but was cut off by Steve shortly after.

“Oh no, no can do, sweetheart. You’ll be suffering as much as me for this time. And actually? Maybe a little more than I will be.” he said abruptly. “Go ahead and sit at the table, okay?”

He left the room quickly after finishing his thought, making his way to their bedroom to rummage through their drawers. Steve returned moments later with a vibrator in his hands and a smirk on his face. Her eyes widened as he approached where she sat at the table, a wicked grin on his face as he leaned over to kiss her gently. His hand reached down to part her robe enough so he could slide his hand between her thighs.

“Do you think you can last thirty minutes?” he teased as he ran the tip of the toy along her slit. “You’re already soaking, sweetheart.”

“I—I can last, I promise.” she replied nervously, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes as he slit the toy into her heat and turned it on to the lowest setting.

“Be a good girl for me, don’t moan too much or you’ll be punished.” he warned, kissing her cheek lightly as he walked away. “I know you can do it, baby.”

They sat without talking for a moment while she got acclimated to the feeling. Steve watched her intently as she whimpered under her breath every time she moved. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was turned on like no other, but he wanted to tease her a little bit before doing anything else. They weren’t usually like this when they had sex, they were typically a pretty vanilla couple. But recently, they had been bored in the bedroom and she suggested that he could dominate her, which might have excited Steve a little too much at the time. After the first time, they wanted to keep pushing limits to see how far each of them could go. She was a relatively innocent girl and it showed, which drove Steve wild in bed. This night was the boldest they had ever gotten since usually everything stays in the bedroom.

Steve tried to hold small conversation with her from across the table, but she only gave short responses in reply as she tried to distract herself from the vibrations. For her, it seemed like an eternity before they both finished their food. Steve finally finished and quickly cleaned their plates up before scooping his mess of a girlfriend into his arms to carry to their room. She kissed his neck as he carried her, tugging at the buttons of his work shirt while whimpering in his ear to turn him on even more. When they got to the bedroom, Steve sat down on the edge of the bed after tugging his pants off and pulled her to be seated on his thigh, making her moan at the contact against her core.

“I want you to get off on my thigh, sweetheart.” he purred, brushing her hair from in front of her eyes.

“I—I’ve never done that before.” she said meekly, a blush on her cheeks as she felt herself becoming more flustered by the minute.

“That’s alright, I’ll help you.” he coaxed, his hands falling to her hips to rock them against his thigh as another moan escaped her lips. “There you go, baby. Just like that.”

She let out a small whine as she untied her robe, throwing it onto the floor behind them as she continued to rock in motion with Steve’s hands. It didn’t take long for her to feel close to her climax, since she’d been edging on it for a while. She rested her head on his shoulder while he kissed her neck, her hips still bucking slowly as she did. Steve bounced his leg slightly, making her whimper pleasurably against his chest. Her hand slid towards his boxers to palm him through the fabric, making him groan deeply.

“Steve, I—I’m close.” she moaned softly, looking up at him as she felt herself nearing her high.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me.” he said, reaching to rub her clit as she came to heighten her climax. “That’s it, good girl.”

Steve flipped them over quickly after she came, pushing her towards the head of the bed while she straddled his face. She was still a moaning mess when his lips attached to her clit, making her whimper in surprise as he did. She squirmed above him as he replaced the vibrator with his fingers, tugging at his hair when his hand pressed her hips in place. Steve’s movements brought her close to the edge once again, making her cry out pleasurably.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum again.” she panted, placing a hand on the wall while leaning down to see him smirking up at her while continuing his movements.

He nodded in approval while he continued to lick up her slit and her walls clenched around his fingers. She bucked her hips against his fingers as she came, mumbling his name under her breath along with a string of curse words. Steve chuckled as she did, continuing to move his fingers while he flipped them over to her lying beneath him, watching her struggle slightly. He shook his head at her struggle, listening to her whine in protest turning him on even more.

“Do you think you can cum for me another time before I fuck you, baby?” he asked sweetly, kissing down her neck as he laid her back down on the bed and continued to slide his fingers into her at a quick pace. “I think you can do it, what do you think?”

“I—I can try.” she whimpered, nodding as pleasure overtook her again as a struggled squeal escaped her lips.

Steve whispered praises to her as he coached her through another orgasm, which was approaching quickly. His fingers moved rapidly while he rubbed her clit, her moans driving him to go faster. He didn’t look up to see her on the brink of tears as she came, so he pushed on. After cumming for a third time, she couldn’t take it anymore. Steve didn’t notice her struggling after she came down from her climax, so he continued his strokes while tugging his boxers down.

The first time they decided to spice things up in the bedroom, they had established a safe word to make sure they were both okay with whatever was to come next. They hadn’t used it yet, but she was feeling overwhelmed as Steve lined his cock up with her entrance. She shook her head but he didn’t see it at first, so she whimpered in protest.

“R—Red!” she whimpered before he slid in, gripping his shoulder to resist him the best she could.

“Fuck—Baby, I’m so sorry.” he said abruptly when he heard the safe word, looking up to see her overwhelmed expression. “I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure you were okay before I started that. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“N—No, I’m okay. I thought I could take it but it was—was too much.” she said quietly, looking away from him as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, stroking her hair while pulling her into an embrace. “It’s nothing to apologize about.”

“Because you didn’t get to finish.” she whimpered, looking up at him while he furrowed his brow. “I can h—help you get off instead.”

“No, you don’t need to do that. You’re too sweet, baby. But you getting off for me is satisfying enough, I’m okay.” he said reassuringly. “I’m sorry I pushed you too far...You did so good, though.”

She smiled up at him tiredly while laying on his chest. He kissed her forehead before sliding out from under her, making her whine at the loss of contact. She watched him slip his boxers back on and grab a t-shirt from a drawer. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her next to him, sliding the shirt over her head to put it on. He kissed her again as she pulled him back into the bed with her.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, Stevie.” she mumbled tiredly. “I just gotta take a nap first because you wore me out.”

“I’ll be patiently waiting for whenever you want to do that, baby.” he chuckled, watching her drift to sleep on his chest.

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religioused · 4 years ago

Text

Where Did My Plowshares Go?

Holy Saturday

by Gary Simpson

Scriptures:

Psalm 31:1-4 The Message

I run to you, GOD; I run for dear life. Don’t let me down! Take me seriously this time! Get down on my level and listen, and please—no procrastination! Your granite cave a hiding place, your high cliff nest a place of safety.

3-5 You’re my cave to hide in, my cliff to climb. Be my safe leader, be my true mountain guide. Free me from hidden traps; I want to hide in you. I’ve put my life in your hands. You won’t drop me, you’ll never let me down.

John 19:38-42 The Message

After all this, Joseph of Arimathea (he was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, because he was intimidated by the Jews) petitioned Pilate to take the body of Jesus. Pilate gave permission. So Joseph came and took the body.

39-42 Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus at night, came now in broad daylight carrying a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. They took Jesus’ body and, following the Jewish burial custom, wrapped it in linen with the spices. There was a garden near the place he was crucified, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been placed. So, because it was Sabbath preparation for the Jews and the tomb was convenient, they placed Jesus in it.

1 Peter 4:1 and 6 (ESV)

Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin,

6 For this is why the gospel was preached even to those who are dead, that though judged in the flesh the way people are, they might live in the spirit the way God does.

Reflection:

Holy Saturday is the link between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Today is a vigil pause between the cross and the resurrection.(1) Holy Saturday is that "in between time." (2) As much as we may wish that we could ignore the fact that we are caught in-between, we cannot ignore the in-between periods of our lives. We are not given the privilege of skipping Holy Saturday in our lives.(3) Our province and our country are stuck in Holy Saturday. The Coronavirus pandemic struck. Many businesses closed temporarily, some to never open again. At times early in the pandemic, things felt unnatural – just way too quiet. And the price of oil plummeted. We are still waiting for the normal to return. Spiritually, we caught in a holding zone. The crucifixion is passed, but the full glory of the resurrection is not here yet.(4) Holy Saturday 2021, for some of us, feels like over a year of Holy Saturdays. The Coronavirus lockdown is a brutally long, anxious, and vulnerable time.

Even children have Holy Saturday moments. When I was a kid, there were times when my punishment was to sit quietly on a kitchen chair. No talking was allowed. I could sit in the chair, okay, but no talking was rough. The three to five minutes timeouts felt like an eternity. I think my silent timeouts might have been more challenging for my mother than they were for me because I just could not keep quiet.

Canada is still sitting on the kitchen chair - over a year later. McDougall United Church is sitting on the chair for a second Easter. The Holy Saturday moments in life feel like they are an eternity long. During the pandemic, the Holy Saturday moments for children are especially challenging. Many children had to take courses online and were cut off from their friends and classmates for weeks, even months. Children learning at home have to try to navigate a dual relationship with their parents, where their parents might be functioning both in both a teacher's role and in a parent's role. And a special place dedicated to learning, school, no longer exists. Learning takes place in the home, the same place where children live and play. As with my time-out moments, the shift to learning at home can be difficult for parents too. Being plunged into a quasi-teaching role with almost no time to shift gears is difficult.

Jesus is gone – dead and buried. The disciples lost their teacher and friend, Jesus' family lost a son and a brother. The region of Palestine lost a dynamic itinerant rabbi. Jesus was executed for being a potential source of discontent against the government and the religious leadership, which were closely related. Jesus' disciples and family were deep in shock, possibly dealing with anger and fear. They may feel very vulnerable. What if someone falsely accuses them, just like they falsely accused Jesus? When you are hiding, hoping nobody is thinking of you or coming for you, time is painfully slow. Some people are experiencing are feeling afraid and vulnerable with our COVID Holy Saturday.

Hans Steiner, of Stanford University indicates that the social isolation caused by the pandemic Conflicts with our need to "social interventions" that help us "resolve anger" when we believe that we are "at the mercy of injustice and uncertainty." (5) Tensions seem to be high during the pandemic. There are many possible reasons – uncertainty, danger, children's education bouncing between school and home, work bouncing back and forth between office and home, job uncertainty, business closures, and extreme incidents of injustice. We are experiencing loss of loved ones, loss of lifestyle, loss of routines, loss of dreams, and financial loss. David Rosemarie, assistant professor in the Harvard Medical School's Department of Psychiatry, says he is seeing an increase in levels of anger in his practice.(6) There are times when anxiety and depression can look like anger.(7) David Rosemarie believes the anger over masks is related to fear over civil rights being taken away. He believes that fear is due to fear of the virus. Rosemarie observes, "When we're aggressive, we don't have to show our vulnerability to other people." (8)

You might be thinking, "Are there any scientific studies about COVID restrictions contributing to anger. In the United Kingdom, a study was conducted of over 2,200 participants aged 16–75 years. The study, published in the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, found that 56% of the participants reported "having had arguments, feeling angry or fallen out with others because of COVID- 19." The researchers concluded that COVID-19 restrictions cause "considerable strain." (9) If you are feeling anxious and angry, and you think COVID restrictions might be impacting your behavior, you are not alone.

There are many explanations as to what 1 Peter Chapter 4 means. I am not going to discuss the complex range of opinions. There might not be a highly definitive meaning for 1 Peter Chapter 4.(10) A few commentators consider the passage to be a mysterious encounter Jesus had with the dead, after Jesus' death.(11) 1 Peter Chapter 4 can be seen as a symbolic representation of the depth of God's love and grace. Holy Saturday could be the time when Jesus brought the Gospel of saving grace to all of the dead from the preceding ages. Verses 5-6 could refer to the Gospel going to "all the dead." The epistle of 1 Peter seems to be about Christ descending to the "place of the dead" to preach to the dead.(12) I tend to believe that descending into the depth of hell symbolizes the fact that there is no mistake, no sin that God cannot forgive, that nobody is left out of the realm of God's grace. The key takeaway is that God is just. Judgment is fair, because even those who died before Jesus' ministry on the cross hear the good news.(13)

Jonathan Turtle, an Anglican priest, describes Jesus as descending into the grave and "taking Adam and Eve by the hand," and leading them out of the grave, "pulling them up out of the grave." Rowan Williams, when he was the Archbishop of Canterbury, observes that this was not the youthful Adam and Eve.(14) Like Rowan Williams, I invite you to picture the old Adam and Eve. I am going to give you a moment to picture Adam and Eve. I see them as frail, with thin gray hair, arthritic hands, stooped shoulders, and eyes grown dim with age. I can almost picture them weighed down with a lifetime of guilt and shame. Then, I can visualize a change, as the fear of meeting God, and as a lifetime of guilt and shame, melts away in the presence of the Christ.

Middle Church tweeted, "Too many Christians act as if the Bible asks us to beat plowshares into swords." (15) Sadly, it is not just Christians who act like the Bible says we should beat our plowshares into swords. At a time fear is causing some tense, anxious, and fearful people to beat their emotional plowshares into swords, and they are living out an angry, grace challenged form of religion.

Prayer:

Companion God, in our Holy Saturday season, we give you our offering – the broken dreams, uncertainty, sense of oppression, anger, anxiety, fear, and depression. These things are too much for us. Beat the swords of those emotions into plowshares and use the plowshares to help plant a garden of healing. Amen.

Notes

(1)Jonathan Turtle. “A Sermon for Holy Saturday.” 26 March 2016, 18 March 2021. The Church of St, Mary and St. Martha. <https://stmaryandstmartha.org/a-sermon-for-holy-saturday/>.

(2)Michael K. Marsh. “A Sermon for Holy Saturday, Matthew 27:57-66.” Interrupting the Silence. <interruptingthesilence.com/2011/04/23/a-reflection-on-holy-saturday-matthew-2757-66/amp/>.

(3)Marsh <interruptingthesilence.com/2011/04/23/a-reflection-on-holy-saturday-matthew-2757-66/amp/>.

(4)Marsh <interruptingthesilence.com/2011/04/23/a-reflection-on-holy-saturday-matthew-2757-66/amp/>.

(5)Hans Steiner. “COVID-19 Q&A: Dr. Hans Steiner on Anger and Aggression.” Sanford University, Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences. n.d., 23 March 2021. <https:med.stanford.edu/psychiatry/about/covid19/anger.html>.

(6)Alvin Powell. “Soothing Advice for a Mad America.” The Harvard Gazette. 14 August 2020, 23 March 2021. <https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2020/08/a-closer-look-at-americas-pandemic-fueled-anger/>.

(7)Powell (2020) <https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2020/08/a-closer-look-at-americas-pandemic-fueled-anger/>.

(8)Powell (2020) <https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2020/08/a-closer-look-at-americas-pandemic-fueled-anger/>.

(9)Louise E Smith, et. al. “Anger and Confrontation During the COVID-19 Pandemic: a National Cross-Sectional Survey in the UK.” Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine; 2021, Vol. 114(2) 77. <https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/0141076820962068>.

(10)William Barclay. The Daily Study Bible: The Letters of James and Peter. Revised Ed. (Burlington, Ontario: G.R. Welch, 1976), 248.

(11)Christian Community Bible. (Madrid: San Pablo International, 1988), N.T., 463.

(12)Barclay (1976), 248.

(13)Bruce B. Barton, et. al., eds. Life Application Study Bible. Second Ed. (Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House Pub., 2004), 2134.

(14)Turtle (2016) <https://stmaryandstmartha.org/a-sermon-for-holy-saturday/>.

(15)“Middle Church.” Twitter @middlechurch. 23 March 2021, 23 March 2021.

<https://twitter.com/middlechurch/status/1374343151805169667?s=21>.

#Easter #Holy Saturday #Sermon #Reflection #Christian #Progressive Christian #Progressive Christianity #Good Friday

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

One vision recording; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey all okay so since I’m completing my final semester at college, I thought that since I’ve got some time off until tomorrow I’ll give you guys a special treat. For I have in store and ready to go TWO chapters of the Rock Angel at the ready. I just completed this one today and I’ve had the next one I’ll post up done for awhile.

Also I want to say that the song I have written for this specific chapter is just how I envisioned the song. I KNOW IT DOESN’T RHYME CAUSE I SUCK AT RHYMING THINGS. So please no hating on the song. And as inspiration for this chapter, for those who do know or may not know the One vision documentary, just have a watch of that and just imagine you reader-chan as being apart of the workings of One Vision. Happy reading my beauties :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@onebigfangirlworld

@waddles03

@platawnic

@geek-and-proud

@coolcxt

@queendeakyy

@mr-badguymercury

@naturalswifty89

@queens-rose-garden

@starswin

@dj-lowkey

@labessieisallama

@5sos-wdw

@isabella-bby

______________________________________________________

*Sept. 2nd, 1985. Munich, Germany*

Seven months pregnant and here I am in Germany. Now I know most of you are probably thinking ‘Woman why aren’t you at home?’ ‘Didn’t you ask for maternity leave?’ And to answer that, yes I did but I only had a few more songs to record on my newest album ‘Mother Love’. I wanted to make sure my last album was perfect before my maternity leave in the next 2 months.

Right now my tummy looked like it was going to pop as Jack and I had taken the 9hr train ride from London to Munich since at this point I could no longer fly anymore without causing any harm to the baby.

I was told the Munich studio had better equipment and better sounding for what I was looking for in this album so here I am at the Musicland studios.

Currently I was in the process of recording my next song “Through and through (a Mother’s love is eternal)”.

“Alright Rock Angel, you said you wanted a full run of this song?” asked the sound engineer Mack.

“Yes. I wanna try to get this song done in one go. I’ve gotta meet with the Munich zoo by 6pm to do the filming shots Beck needs for the music video.”

“Alright, this is Rock Angel’s ‘Through and through’ take one. Full run through.” I heard Mike’s voice speak as I placed the headphones over my ears and I heard the vocalization of the soft choir before I heard the piano playing.

I counted the beats and began singing the song.

*First verse*

They say I am the mirror of the

Woman you once were.

But each day that passes, I forget day by day.

The feel of your arms, the smell of your hair,

And the presences of your warmth.

I’ve suffered the loss of you for oh too long.

For growing up,

Without a mother’s love and care.

I fear you’ve gone and left me,

At the moment of your untimely parture.

*Chorus*

A Mother’s love is eternal

Even as time passes by

Torn between life and the light of heaven’s gate

Even through all the grief

I somehow still felt your love.

For a Mother’s love is eternal

Through and through.

*Second verse*

I just wish you were still here by my side.

Cause I don’t know how to be the mother you were to me.

I wish I could hear your voice in my mind,

But all I hear is the sounds of the wind.

How were you when you were in my place?

Was there ever any spark of fear or doubt?

To be the greatest Mother

Your child had ever known.

The piano took over for the brief break and I counted down in my head the beats till I came in once again. This time I could feel my hormones acting up once again as this verse was the hardest for me to write.

*2nd Chorus*

Ooo but a Mother’s love is eternal

Even through all the struggles you face.

It’ll drain every ounce within you.

Make you bleed, and scream and cry.

But even through the pain,

The love is worth it in the end

For a Mother’s love is eternal

Through and through.

As the break happened once more with the lute guitar and piano I could feel the tears in my eyes. Then I just let go as I gave this final verse my all, even allowing some tears to fall down my face by the end.

*Final verse*

Yeah!

A Mother’s love is eternal.

And I vow to do my best

Cause a Mother’s love is eternal

So never forget my child

I may stay, I may go

But no matter what the future brings

A Mother’s love is eternal

Through and through.

This song was very special to me. Because it not only spoke for my fear and doubt of going into motherhood for the first time, but I also wrote this in honor of my mum who I wish could still be here to help me through raising my first child.

So singing this song was definitely emotional for me and with my pregnancy my hormones were kicked into overdrive as I could even feel tears fall down my face, especially once I got to the final chorus.

Shakily exhaling and wiping away the tearstains from my cheeks. I looked up to the ceiling almost as if asking for my mum’s strength to just help me get over this. It was then I heard an applause from the other side of the recording booth. I looked up and saw my boys all standing there, all of them with tears brimming in their eyes.

“My lovely Rock Angel, you once again have broken my heart with your angelic voice.” Freddie said speaking into the mic. I took the headphones off of my head and walked out of the booth. I opened the door and the moment they saw me, they were just in awe.

“Oh lovie. I swear every time we see you, it’s like you’re glowing more and more every day.” Roger praised as he came up to me and took my hands in his gently swaying them side to side.

“It’s like you’re brighter than the stars in the sky.” Brian said.

“What I feel like is a balloon about to pop.” I said irritated. They awed at me as Roger leaned his forehead against mine and he said.

“You do not, you’re carrying precious cargo in there. Dominque, Veronica and Chrissie all went through it. Mary’s going through it, and even if you did look like a balloon then you’re the cutest balloon out there.” I grinned mockingly at him and said.

“Thanks for trying dad.” He grinned and pecked my cheek.

“So I heard a little rumor that you all are involved with a movie?”

“Yeah we were asked by the director Russell Mulcahy to do some of the music for film. Originally we were asked to do one song but after viewing what they’ve got so far we had to do more.” Explained Brian.

“What’s the film called again?” I asked and that’s when Deacy answered.

“Highlander.”

“Ahh, well I can’t wait to see what you all have done. And now I leave you guys to record your songs now.”

“Ohh can’t you stay for a while and help us, like the old days (y/n) darling?” Freddie begged.

“I wish I could but I’ve got to get this song over to the Munich zoo so that I can get some footage for the music video for this song.”

“Getting some animal footage?”

“Yeah Bri. And no worries Rog I’m not going near any big cats or bears if that’s what you’re worried about.” I said already looked at the worry in his eyes.

“Care to give us an idea what the music video will be about?” asked Deacy like a kid trying to bride their parent getting a cookie before supper.

“Spoilers Brother mine.” I mocked as I playfully gripped him under the chin. I then took notice of his new hairstyle, which was much shorter, kinda like how I first met him but slightly different. “You know I kinda miss the fluffy afro look on you.” I teased.

“Haha hilarious sister dear.” He playfully pinched my nose. I pushed his hand away and continued to tease.

“But I guess there’s only room for one poodle man of Queen.” I looked towards Bri who gave me a playful glare which caused Freddie and Roger to laugh.

“Alright (y/n) it’s ready.” Mack said as he held a tape for me. I took it from him and thanked him as I gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.

“But if you guys are still here tomorrow I could pop by and see how you all are getting along.”

“We’ll be here at 9am sharp when the studio opens, I could pick you up at your hotel.” Said Roger.

“Perfect, I’ll see you at around 8ish?” he nodded and I saluted the guys goodbye. As I was just about to walk up the stairs that would lead me back up to the main floor of the studio, I felt someone come up behind me and ask.

“Need a hand?” I smiled softly and said.

“Always to the rescue, ehh papa lion?”

“Just need to make sure our future lioness cub will be okay. Her mum can be reckless sometimes.” I scoffed in playfully offense.

“And you’re not?”

“Well……”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh-uhh yeah that’s what I thought.” I said as the two of us walked up the stairs. Then I had to address the elephant in the room, “And how do you know it’ll be a girl? Not even Jack and I know what our baby’s gender is.”

“I just have a feeling. Good sense of rhythm. Loves Queen music, especially Radio gaga, to which you said was the first time she had started becoming active. I have a feeling she’ll be just like her mother in every practically perfect way.”

“You’re just not wanting the baby to look like Jack are you?”

“Now that is not true.” I just rolled my eyes at him as we finally reached the top. “In all seriousness though love, please be careful during the video shooting. Please.” He pressed his hand to my cheek and I nuzzled into his palm as I felt his calloused thumb stroke my cheek.

“Don’t worry Rog. I’ve signed all the agreements and I’ve got the best zookeepers to keep an eye on me while we get some of the interactions. There’s only one animal who will need to be watched over, other than that I’m holding a small ape in my arms most of the time.”

“Okay, just don’t go near any lions alright?”

“Don’t worry Rog, you’re the only lion I go near.” He hummed a chuckle before leaning his forehead against mine.

“You’re an even sassier woman when you’re pregnant did you know that?” I grinned cheekily and kissed his nose and said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow dad.”

“Till then my beautiful mama lioness.” He gave me one final kiss to the forehead before I went to sign myself out of the studio and hailed a cab over to take me to the Munich zoo.

A full afternoon into early evening shooting later, I was back at the hotel room with Jack and he said.

“I think the filming went well.”

“Yeah, that mama elephant really was tender towards me. Guess she knew the both of us were in the same boat together.”

“I can’t wait to see how it all comes together.”

“Me too, now we’ll just need to wait for the National Geographic to get back with some of those other footages I asked for.” I lay down on the bed and Jack lay down beside me.

“Now you said Roger will be here around 8ish?”

“Yeah, do you wanna stay here and see the boys record their new song?”

“As much as I love too I can’t. Someone’s gotta book our flight back to the states from London. When do you think you’ll be done?”

“I don’t know. You know how much of a perfectionist Freddie is. But I’m told they’ve already recorded some of the song and now they’re just trying to get all the clever bits into it.”

“So hopefully it won’t take too long.”

“Here’s hoping.” He flipped the lights off encasing our room into total darkness and I felt him wrap his arm around my lower abdomen almost like he was protecting our baby and I felt him kiss my neck lovingly.

“Goodnight my mama lioness.”

“G’night daddy lion.” And with that the two of us fell asleep together.

The next morning I woke up to see a note from Jack saying that he was already in bound for England. That he had gotten the first train ticket back to get all our stuff back home packed and call the airlines to get a special accommodations for us on our one way trip back to LA.

I got around, ate some breakfast and when I left the main lobby I saw Roger standing beside a cabby. He waved to me and I waved back and he allowed me in first before he climbed in and told the driver to head for the studio.

Once we got there it was time to go straight to work, just like the old days when I was still an intern with Miami.

As the minutes ticked by, Mack stepped out leaving Rog, Brian, Fred and I to discuss some lyrics for the middle part of their song “One Vision”.

“Well I mean ‘one goddamn something decision’ is good, I like that.” Suggested Roger.

“No, no well—” Brian began humming the tune trying to put the words to the rhythm of the song and continued, “No it doesn’t work.”

“It won’t fit.” Freddie argued.

“Yes it does.” Roger then sung out the rhythm of how he imagined the words. Freddie closing his eyes trying to hear what Roger was saying as Brian and Rog continued to mutter the tune.

“What about real decision?” I suggested as I twirled a pencil between my fingers.

“No, no darling it won’t fit. See it goes….” he then began singing the tune and I nodded and said.

“I know. What I’m saying is what if you do, ‘one flesh, one bone one real decision’.” Freddie looked to me and he said.

“I like that.”

“I agree, it fits.”

“Alright fine, can’t argue with her.” I grinned at Roger. As we continued to debate of lyrics, I talking with Brian and Freddie while Roger was quietly writing.

“And I mean it is awfully nice, but it’s—it’s sorta…..it’s risky.” Freddie warned.

“Well you have been known to take risks haven’t you Fred?” I came back at him. He ruffled my hair making me chuckle and Brian said.

“So it’s ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-ba-bum.” Brian muttered out as Freddie joined him on the tune. I looked at Brian’s lyric sheet to see what we’ve got as Roger piped in.

“How about this?”

“I mean it’d be cool if you could somehow mold this entire verse into like—one sentence.”

“Yes darling I completely agree, we need to try and get all these lyrics into one solid formation.” Freddie said as he leaned over between Brian and I.

“Like it’s an actual story.”

“What about that?” Roger suggested. I took his lyric sheet and read over it as Freddie was going over the tune once again.

“Ohh Freddie, Freddie Freddie-o let’s go with Rog’s verse.” He then came over and spoke out Roger’s lyrics.

“Made one true religion. Yeah that’s good. That’s nice.”

“I think we should also but ‘true vision’ in there somewhere.” Suggested Roger.

“No, no I don’t think that fits. I mean ‘one true religion’ is one thing but ‘one true vision’ is another. And I don’t think it fits.” I said skeptically.

“It fits lovie.”

“Oh yeah sing it then.” I then clapped the rhythm as Roger began muttering the tune before finally softly singing out while looking at me with those baby blue eyes of his.

“One true vision.” At that point all of us laughed.

“Of course it fits like that!” exclaimed Freddie sarcastically. All of us laughing as Roger continued to brag. I ran my fingers through his hair as I leaned against his shoulder still laughing.

“I mean you stopped and—he was still looking for the next word.” Brian said through his laughter.

“Darling a complete idiot!” joked Freddie.

“Oh my god Rog you’re unbelievable.” I sighed as I tried to calm myself down.

“Ahh but you love me for it.” He teased as he leaned his head against my shoulder and I pressed my head on top of his.

The day continued to go on and now the boys were starting to record some more of the song. I sat with Mack behind the sound mixer as all four of my boys proceeded to record the new bits or just improve some lyrics. Of course I lost it as Freddie actually sang ‘one dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon.’

As Freddie continued to improve the lyrics and pull words out of his arse I couldn’t help but think this song was going nowhere but yet it somehow did work cause Freddie just made it hilarious. Mack placed his head along the console and groaned.

“Is there no end to this?”

“Mack, you don’t know the half of it.” I dragged on as we watched the boys continue to record.

The next day we were now getting in just the bass parts and some of Freddie’s vocals. I was outside along the consoles sitting next to Mack as Deacy was actually outside holding his bass wearing the headphones as he played his bass for part of the song where the bass could truly shine in the song.

Deacy was playing and bopping his head like a chicken, something I like to call the Deacy-chicken head-bop when his head gets into the rhythm but not his body. Mack leaned into my and whispered in my ear.

“And Fred said it was to be all that?”

“Yeah that’s what he told me.” He nodded and made sure to note that down. Once Deacy was done, he tucked one of the earmuffs of the headset and said.

“And then we just add the guitar bit?”

“No it’s….meant to be all that?” Mack responded as he pointed to Deacy’s bass.

“Oh it’s meant to be all that? No guitar vibrato at all?”

“Fred said that by the end of that the bass was gonna take over that part of verse.” I explained as I leaned against the chair and gently swayed it from side to side. He nodded and that’s when I felt a kick to my stomach and I moaned softly as I stopped swaying and held my stomach. “You okay?”

“Yeah she just kicked. Guess she still don’t like gentle swaying. Last week when Jack tried to slow dance with me back at the hotel after a stressful day, she wouldn’t stop kicking me. Guess she’s not gonna be much of a slow dancer.” He grinned and said.

“Michael was the same way, as was Joshua. So the baby’s been actively kicking?”

“Oh yeah, mostly when Queen songs are playing, I think they’re ready to meet you guys.”

“Well we can’t wait to see who the future munchkin’s gonna be. And you said you wanted it to be a surprise right?”

“Yeah, after Kelly’s story I’d rather not go through in having to either return or sell all the wrong gender stuff and waste my money buying new stuff when I already need to get the main supplies like food, diapers and all that baby proof stuff.”

“Well you know Veronica and I can donate some of the babyproof stuff to you guys to use.”

“You’d seriously do that?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna hold off having children for a bit. Now that Joshua is walking a bit more we don’t need most of his old baby proofing stuff, he’s not as curious as his brothers are so we’re good to go.”

“Thanks Deacy.”

“You’re welcome (n/n).”

Now it was Freddie’s turn to get behind the booth and do some vocal recording. He wanted to do the voice split since he had already done the low vocalizations of the ‘whoa, whoa, whoa’s’, he wanted to now do a high range of those.

“Mack, Mr. Beach is on the phone he wants to discuss with you some business matters of the song.” One of the assistants said peeking in through the door. He groaned because he knew he couldn’t leave since Fred was about to do the recording and he didn’t really trust anyone else to work his consoles.

“You go on ahead Mack, I’ve got this.” I told him.

“You sure you got this?” he asked me wearily.

“Absolutely, who do you think helped them edit ‘Don’t try suicide’.”

“Let her at it Mack dear. Like us, she knows how to work those keys. Work your magic darling and don’t make me sound like shit.”

“No promises Fred.” I teased as I spoke into the mic. He playfully flipped me off and I told Mack to go on and talk to Miami. He nodded and then left the booth and headed towards the lounge room to talk with Miami. “Okay Fred so where do you want to go first?”

“Take me to the second part of the second track my lovely angel.” I pressed a couple buttons and heard Freddie’s voice play through the system and I watched him count the beats by squeezing his fingers into his palms, like he was operating a pump before finally going into the ‘whoa, whoa’s’. However they both were in the high range so he immediately stopped and he said. “No, no darling it’s the wrong part, take me back to the first track.”

“Yeah sorry about that.” I rewound the tape and pressed the play and I heard Fred’s voice sing out, ‘One religion. One man, one soul one god religion.’ He then proceeded to record the right now and as I heard both low and high ranges mold together, it sounded better. When that was done he asked me.

“How was that?”

“Sounds great Fred.” I told him.

“You’re not just saying that because it’s me right?”

“No Mr. Perfectionist.” I drawled out.

“Don’t take that tone with my little missy.” He teased. I playfully stuck my tongue out at him and fast forwards the tape. “Okay so the next track are we gonna do the second track or the first track?”

“Well according to Mack’s notes he wants to go to the first track.”

“Okay then darling fire away.” I then played the track and watched the master at work once more.

I bopped my head to the rhythm and couldn’t help but admire such talent. I’ve always admired Freddie’s voice and I just can’t believe how lucky I was to be mentored by the best singer of my generation, I owe him everything and I hope we can continue this partnership till the end of our days.

The ‘One vision’ recording continued for another day till finally at almost 2 o’clock the song was complete. All the editing and wiring of placing each sound in the right order was done and now Queen had their next hit single in the works.

I was just about to head back to my hotel to rest up since I had been working so hard and waking up so early to help the guys.

“And where do you think you’re going darling?” Freddie asked me. I looked up to see all four of them looking at me.

“Uhh back to my hotel, why?”

“You’re not staying for the after party?” Fred continued to say.

“Well Fred, I—haven’t really been a party person since the pregnancy. People kept offering me drinks and I couldn’t cause of munchkin here.”

“I’ll ensure you get some water or juice. Please darling everyone whose involved with this song is invited, plus all of our crew on tour. And you’re still counted as apart of Team Queen.” Begged Freddie as he came up and kneeled before my groveling. I turned to the other three for help but they just looked at me with that ‘might as well indulge him love’ look.

“I don’t know Freddie……” I sighed before he interrupted me.

“Even if it’s for a couple of hours. You don’t have to stay for the whole thing. You’ve helped us a lot with this song and it’d be wrong not to invite you when we know the truth.” I looked at him and cupped the side of his face.

“If you stop with those puppy dog eyes of yours I’ll go.” He cheered and immediately shot up before kissing my cheek and said as he proudly strutted out of the booth.

“Let’s go my darlings!” I shook my head.

“If it’s so hard to say no to that man, I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be to say no to my own kid.”

“You’ll learn love.” Deacy said as he wrapped an arm around me.

“Fred is just on a whole other degree of spoiled. He’s even worse than a toddler if he doesn’t get his way.” Said Brian. We all then followed him and headed over to Queen’s hotel which surprisingly was just a couple blocks away from my hotel and proceeded with the after party.

There was food, press, drinks and hundreds upon hundreds of people gathered around to celebrate another hit record song made by Queen.

I was sitting outside near the pool trying to get away from the crowds when I saw Brian come out from the pool. And god had I not spent as much time around these boys as I have, I wouldn’t have recognized him because now his full on curly hair was all flat along his face from the chlorine.

“Have a nice dip, drip?” I said as I threw him a towel.

“It was refreshing.” He said as he began to dry his hair. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Just trying to avoid getting my bump smashed or hit by someone in the crowd in there.”

“I get it. Especially when a few have had one to many drinks, they’d end up falling right over in total disregard to anyone’s safety.”

“Yeah which would cause Rog to turn full papa lion and kill the person who’d bump into me if the fall didn’t.” he chuckled knowing that that statement was true. I placed a grape into my mouth and chewed on it as I said, “Plus I don’t want press finding me.”

“They’ve been giving you trouble?”

“Well not here here. But—insecurities and all that.” He sighed and said as he came over my pool chair and began to rub my shoulders.

“You remember what I’ve told you about your looks right?”

“Well Bri, some press are kind to me but one magazine sure wasn’t. It was….back in the early stages of my pregnancy. Some sexist arsehole took a photo of me and Jack shopping for groceries and printed out in bold print ‘ROCK ANGEL GAINING WEIGHT!? Young adult artist putting on several pounds as she struts with husband Jack Kline looking like she swallowed a beachball.’ Luckily thanks to Miami and with the release of my pregnancy announced, we sued the bastard and got him fired but—I can’t imagine what the press here would say seeing me now like this.” I felt Brian kiss the top of my head.

“They need to realize that you are creating something that none of those bastards can. You are in the final stage of giving life to a whole new person. That’s something that most press and paparazzi’s can’t do. And if we had heard of this incident months ago, you can be sure the lads and I would’ve found that publicist and gladly gave him a talking to.”

“Oh I know what your ‘talking to’ implies Bri. Especially if Rog is the ringleader.” He leaned his head against mine and said.

“Some men can be bastards, especially to female celebrities and singers. But just know that you’ve got five men who think you are an absolute vision.” I smiled and placed my hand on top of his right hand.

“How come you always know what to say to help me feel better Bri?”

“Could be my cleverness.” I looked up at him with my best Deacy funny look and he just smiled at me softly laughing.

“You are so full of shit you know that spaceman?”

“Sometimes, but at least I got you distracted from your body insecurity, right?”

“That you did.” He stroked down my cheeks much like how you would a dog before he pecked my nose and pressed his forehead against mine.

When party was over by nightfall, I grabbed my bag when Mack came in and he said.

“(Y/n), your husband’s on the phone for you.” I followed behind him and he handed me the phone and I said.

“Hey Jack, how did booking the flight go?”

‘Not good I’m afraid.’

“Why? What’s going on?”

‘Well I explained to the airfare about your pregnancy so they asked me how far you were along. And apparently they can’t fly us back since you’ve entered your third trimester.’

“What!? Why not!?”

‘They said it just poses as a greater risk for the health of the baby.’

“Well what are we gonna do? We can’t go back to the hotel because the press finally got whiff of where we were and almost made me go into premature labor with their constant hounding, Dr. Williams is in LA with all our medical records, and we can’t afford to stay in that small motel room with the baby!”

‘I know baby, we’ll figure it all out. Just calm down okay, you’re stressing again.’ I took a few deep breaths. ‘That’s my girl. Are you and the boys done yet?’

“Yeah. We just finished. We’re gonna head to the train station and get on the next train back to London.”

‘Okay, when you get back we’ll talk about our next plan okay. I promise everything’s gonna be fine.’

“Okay.” I muttered softly.

‘Have safe travels my beauty. I love you.’

“I love you too Jack.” I then hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of my nose as I muttered, “Fucking hell.”

“Everything okay poppet?” I turned to see the boys all looking at me concerned.

“Well if you count being stranded with no other place to go and no doctor knowing of your medical records just 2 months before you go into labor umm….I’d say I’m doing great.” I sighed.

“What are you talking about?” asked Freddie.

“I can’t go back to the states. I’ve gone over to my 3rd trimester and they won’t let me fly back.”

“Now correct me if I’m wrong but did I hear you say that the press almost made you go into premature labor?” questioned Roger. I nodded and said.

“Yeah, I don’t know how they found me but they came out of nowhere and just ambushed me while I was coming home from shopping. I nearly had a panic attack from all the hormones and anxiety of my pregnancy.”

“Those fucking leeches. It’s bad enough they stalk every famous face but to ambush a first time mother, it’s unforgivable.” Freddie sighed angrily.

“I just don’t know what to do guys. We’ve got nowhere to go now.”

“Not true, you can stay with Dominque and I. We can set up one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery, we still got Felix’s old crib that can be refurbished.” Roger said as he came up and took my hands in his. I smiled and said.

“Oh Rog, thank you for the offer but we can’t do that to you and your family.”

“It’s no trouble. No one knows where my house is, and it’ll be nice for Felix to have a little playmate for a while.”

“Actually there is another place you could stay at.” Suggested Brian. I turned to him and he continued, “I’m still kinda in the works of moving some stuff around but, just recently I bought a house up in Surrey that acts as my home studio. It’s got 2 bedrooms, 2 loos, and plenty of space for a baby. At least until you can fly back to the states with her.”

“Ohh Brian I…..I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“It’s no trouble at all love, really. You need a private place to relax in your final days before your maternity leave, somewhere where the press cant cause you any stress.” I considered it and said.

“You sure it’s no trouble?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it to you if it was.”

“C’mon love what more do you have to lose?” said Roger. I thought about it some more till I finally said.

“Okay. I’ll call Jack and ask him if it’ll be okay with him.”

“Once we get back to London, I’ll take you both up there so you can see the place.” Brian said as he wrapped his arm over my shoulder.

I called Jack shortly after and told him the news and he agreed to come up to see the place with Brian and I. We then all took a cab up to our hotels to check out before all heading back to the train station.

After arriving back in London early the next morning, we met Jack at the station and he, Brian and I headed on up to Surrey just a few miles outside of London.

Going through Surrey it felt like we had gone out to the country until finally we came upon a grand castle-like house.

“And here we are.” Brian said as he pulled the car up along the gravel driveway and shut the car off.

“Oh wow Bri, this is—amazing.” Praised Jack.

“Thank you Jack.” We all got out of the car and I just stared at this beautiful ‘private kingdom’. It had a gorgeous front yard. “So will it do?” I heard Brian ask me as he came up to me.

“Oh it’s big enough for an entire classroom. You sure you don’t mind us staying here for a bit?”

“Of course not I don’t mind at all. C’mon let’s get you two inside.” The boys carried in the luggage and the inside looked even bigger than it did outside.

“Oh wow.” I awed.

“Right bedrooms are right down that hall, kitchen’s just down that way and the studios upstairs. And of course garden is just through those backdoors.” I walked towards the back and I was just in awe at the very large and peaceful garden.

There was nothing but greenery as far as the eye could see, trees surrounding the perimeter, and a beautiful fountain at the center.

“Brian this….this is beautiful.”

“Yeah quite romantic when it comes to getting out of the busyness of the city. The perfect place for you and Jack to relax, and a quaint little place for the future little Kline.” He said as he came up and pressed his hand to my stomach as he mentioned my baby. I nodded and I said.

“You think we’ll do a good job?”

“I believe you will love. You’ve already had practice with the lads and I.” we both laughed and he continued, “I know first time parenting is frightening. Believe me love everyone’s been there. Anyone who says they weren’t afraid is lying. And if you or Jack need any help, never hesitate to call us for advice or to come over and help out.” I nodded and snuggled my head into his chest.

“Thank you Brian, for everything.”

“I’m always here for you love.” He said as he hugged me and kissed the top of my head. After doing a bit of unpacking, Brian left Jack and I alone and right now the two of us were out in the garden.

“God this place is even more beautiful than our place. Maybe we should move here to London.” Said Jack.

“You sure?”

“I mean with our baby about to come, plus any other future child we have. Sure we may have a big backyard but American homes hardly have the beauty like England does.” I smiled and said to him.

“Kinda have to agree with that, but I didn’t want to say it at the time. Why must you Americans keep expanding your territory?”

“Greedy bastards wanting more malls and homes. They need to see that having a good countryside backyard is just as beautiful, especially if you use it right.”

“Well let’s just see how raising this child goes first, and if we have anymore then we’ll talk about moving back to England. I know the boys would be thrilled to have me back in England again.”

“Especially Roger.” We both chuckled and I said.

“Roger would probably move into the house with us to ensure that I wouldn’t leave England again.” He sat up from his chair and came over to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his hands placed over my baby bump as he kissed my cheek lovingly.

“I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“Just 2 more months and they’ll be here.”

“But that’s soo long, can’t they come out now?”

“If you want them premature and unhealthy than sure.”

“Noo!” he whined.

“Then you’ll have to wait. But I do have to ask cause I know the guys are gonna press me on this matter.” He looked to me and I looked up at him, “Whose gonna be the Godfather?”

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wisdomrays · 5 years ago

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Those who Become Dizzy with Worldly Pleasures and Remain Behind

QUESTION: What are the messages to be drawn from the verse (which means), “Those who were left behind in opposition to God’s Messenger rejoiced at staying at home, and abhorred striving with their wealth and persons in God’s cause. And they said: ‘Do not go forth to war in this heat.’ Say (O Messenger): ‘The fire of Hell is fiercer in heat.’ If only they had been able to ponder and penetrate the essence of matters to grasp the truth!” (at-Tawbah 9:81) by those devoted to serving humanity?

ANSWER: According to the books of Qur’anic exegesis that provide the context of the verses, this verse criticizes the hypocrites’ attitudes and behaviors against striving for the cause of God. This verse also holds a very significant warning and lessons for any believer who presents laziness in terms of serving in the name of God and indulges in a life of ease. Relatively speaking, so many great figures—Aisha, Abu Dharr, Umar ibn Abdulaziz being the foremost—even saw the verses revealed about the hypocrites as somehow relating to themselves and drew so many lessons for themselves from the issues related in them. One must be careful, though, because with respect to religious belief, it is definitely not correct for believers to see themselves as hypocrites, since being a hypocrite in the real sense means unbelief. It is not possible for a Muslim to accept that. Accepting unbelief makes a person an unbeliever For this reason, a Muslim is supposed to keep away from hypocrisy and unbelief as if they were poisonous creatures.

Children of Adam can turn to any direction

Human beings, however, do have certain weaknesses and faults. Satan saw in Adam’s mold—not in his essence—many human weaknesses and faults, such as pursuing fancies of the carnal self, seeking fame, greed for laudation, seeking comfort, addiction to home, fearing beings other than God, and misappropriation. Then he said: “Now that You have allowed me to rebel and go astray, I will surely lie in wait for them on Your Straight Path (to lure them from it). Then I will come upon them from before them and from behind them, and from their right and from their left” (al-A’raf 7:16–17). All of these latent faults in human beings allow Satan to operate. In this respect, we can say that a human being is potentially susceptible to misguidance, hypocrisy, and unbelief. We can also paraphrase this fact as follows: Even if a person is a believer, he or she can possess some qualities associated with misguidance, hypocrisy, and unbelief. But as it is not correct to see that person as misguided, it is definitely wrong to label him as a “hypocrite” or “unbeliever.” What befalls on individuals is for them to continuously watch their inner worlds and to evaluate in themselves whether they possess contemptible qualities, as well as to try to rid themselves of these as soon as possible if they detect any.

The misfortunate ones who cheered at their own loss

Returning back to the initial question, it is stated in the relevant verse that the hypocrites rejoiced at staying at home. Who knows, perhaps they thought themselves to be very smart and said to themselves: “Look at them! They are going to confront the great empire of Rome. They will not only be scorched in the desert heat, but also will be struck by a great power and come running back.” With similar expressions, they made fun of the Muslims who joined the expedition and rejoiced. As it is known, the Tabuk Expedition was made during July and August when the desert heat was as high as 50–60 °C (122–140 °F). At home in Medina, the trees yielded fruit in that season and their pleasant shade was a real temptation. Thus, it was extremely difficult to leave spring waters, the shade, and ripened fruits to set out under intense heat. Also, this expedition was against the powerful Romans, who had come as near as Jordan. By launching a campaign against the Romans in a period of adverse conditions, the Sultan of Prophets wanted to make everybody realize that there was an independent power centered in Medina and to maintain security and peace in the desert. Thus, against all odds the Pride of Humanity set out with his army in order to stop the Roman advance and parried the danger with the consent and grace of God. In such a situation, where the conditions were very hard, a few hundred hypocrites did not want to join the expedition, preferring to stay at home and using various pretexts to avoid going. In addition to the hypocrites, three people from the Muslims failed to show due sensitivity at responding to the order and did not join the expedition, remaining behind. Who knows, perhaps they misjudged the situation that not everybody was responsible for joining this expedition. However, God Almighty described their case as they well-nigh “swerved” (takhalluf). Since swerving was a behavior associated with the hypocrites, they also received a Divine punishment through a temporary boycott. However, those chivalrous souls passed their test in the best way and attained Divine forgiveness in the end. Concerning the verse in the question, God Almighty states that the hypocrites’ behavior was realized “in opposition to the Messenger of God.” It can then be inferred that straying from the way of the Prophet is a very serious mistake, which leads to destruction. For this reason, one needs to keep following his way no matter what happens.

Passing the virus to those around

The hypocrites whose attributes are related in this verse not only stayed back from striving with their wealth and persons in God’s cause, but they also influenced other people by telling them, “Do not join an expedition under such heat!” There are certain people that their horizons always possess a potential for sedition and discord. They send arrows of discord all around. They continuously try to prevent righteous acts. So these people programmed to sedition and discord wondered among the Muslims and tried to change their mind about forming a counterforce against the Romans, by emphasizing the heat and likely troubles. In response to this verse, God Almighty revealed the words which mean, “Say (O Messenger): ‘The fire of Hell is fiercer in heat.’ If only they had been able to ponder and penetrate the essence of matters to grasp the truth!” The Arabic verb used in the verse is not a commonly used word like “ya’lamun” (they know) or “ya’qilun,” (they reason) but “yafqahun,” which denotes to ponder deeply, to approach the issue within a consideration of a cause-and-effect relationship, or to evaluate the issue on a priori and a posteriori grounds; thus, this word choice is very meaningful. The meaning sensed from this wording is: “If only they had some horizons of fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence, penetrating to the essence of matters), so that they could grasp the relationship between the cause and effect. Unfortunately, they failed to do so despite all of the warnings.”

Would the mistakes ever recur if they had learned a lesson?

When we compare these past events with the events of today, we see that nothing has changed much. As the hypocrites of those times failed to recognize the importance and necessity of walking on the path of God, multitudes today do not comprehend this fact. As in the past, today as well, some people underestimate migrating for a lofty cause and serving for the sake of God, caring nothing at all about introducing the example of the Prophet and the essence of his message to others. Indeed, any place where the truth of his message has not germinated is no different than a prison. Hence, realizing that so many people are condemned to live in prisons in this sense and standing up against every kind of difficulty in order to take them to serene immensities are matters of deep insight—and not to be understood with a superficial view.

In conclusion, it is necessary in our time to undertake every kind of difficulty and troubles for the sake of helping people to remember and recognize their Creator and eliminating the obstacles between people’s hearts and God. For the sake of conveying the inspirations of our soul to others’ hearts and letting others know about a spiritual heritage of more than a thousand years, we must run incessantly and never fall into lethargy concerning this issue. Also, it should never be forgotten that the way to being saved from hellfire in the next world depends upon enduring the heat in this one. And the suffering experienced in this world is a means of attaining bliss in the next, just as the difficulties faced in this one are a means of attaining eternal ease in the next.

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sengoku-revolution · 6 years ago

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Written for the prompt in THIS ASK!

Title: A New Spring Author: Admin Maru

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Concept: Hideyoshi Toyotomi finding out MC is a spy for the enemy.

(To see the same concept done for Kenshin, Mitsuhide and Yukimura, check our Master List)

“Hideyoshi… I’m sorry.”

That’s all she managed to utter before slipping into the night, the darkness cloaking her form with mists and shadows.

He stood still, frozen, unable to process what just happened— no, refusing to. The woman he loved, the one that snuck into his heart despite his immaculate defenses, the one he cherished above all… was not who she appeared to be.

War was drawing near, and everyone prepared in their own ways. Mitsunari polished his strategies, Mitsuhide tightened his networks, even Nobunaga grew tense as the long-awaited day grew upon them. In times like these everyone must lend a hand, and that includes the dear chatelaine, Hideyoshi’s own beloved princess whom he’d grown to understand and love in ways the others could only envy. She had been tasked to deliver scrolls with sensitive information between the warlords, as after all, who could be deemed more trustworthy than the woman who saved Oda Nobunaga from death itself. She’d always work tirelessly, without so much of a fret or complaint no matter how much running around and change of plans the job involved.

It was this hardworking, dedicated chatelaine that Hideyoshi was looking for mere minutes ago, before he stumbled upon a sight that he thought he’d never have to see. There she stood, knuckles white from gripping the pages, leg propped up on the windowsill, glassy eyes wide and focused on the man she hoped she could spare from the heart-wrenching truth. This explained why Mitsunari’s finalized plans haven’t yet reached Nobunaga despite the scrolls being sent his way half an hour ago.

“_______, what is the meaning of this?” His voice came out strained, desperate for her to convince him that he wasn’t witnessing what his eyes revealed plain to see.

“Hideyoshi…” her soft voice trailed off with the wind, regret and pain unlike she’d ever shown before now twisting her moonlit face. Yet despite her regretful disposition, her resolve did not change. Instead, she pulled the remainder of her weight upon the ledge, so that the only thing keeping her from dropping down from the second floor was her one-handed hold on the window’s wooden frame, clutching the scrolls firmly to her chest.

He didn’t dare move, as if the slightest motion would send her teetering over the edge and into the abyss of the night. No, instead, he took a closer look at her form, as if trying to carve the moment into his memory. Between the familiar scrolls of plans and preparations stood a foreign letter, one that confirmed his worst fears and dropped his heart to the pit of his stomach. A letter that bore the Uesugi seal, a letter from Uesugi Kenshin himself.

How she managed to slip the letter between the castle’s raised defenses he didn’t know, but the instructions given within it were clear as day in Hideyoshi's mind. The chatelaine whom he had grown to love and adore was truly not the person he thought her to be, not at all.

Memories rushed through his mind, starting from her first days within the castle. He saw himself bandaging her pricked fingers on her first day as a seamstress, to the cups of tea they shared in his favorite teahouse, where to this day he believes the tea never tasted so good as it did with her. One by one, the days washed over his memory, the strolls, the warm embraces, the kisses, each memory adding a new gash upon his heart.

He felt furious, torn, betrayed, but not for the sake of Nobunaga and the rest of the castle, like he knew he should. Instead, the cries of his own heart overpowered even the most devoted call of his duty. Instead of questioning her intentions, questioning her loyalty to the Oda Forces, there was only one thought he could manage to voice.

“Everything— every moment, everything we had, was it all a lie?” His voice came out hoarse, finally revealing the anger that has built up within him. He finally let someone in, finally lowered his defenses enough to open his heart, and now his trust has jeopardized all. “No Hideyoshi, it wasn’t, and still isn’t, but I haven’t given you the full truth either.”

She raised her head to meet his gaze, a gentle yet firm resolve shining in her eyes.

“I don’t have the time to explain right now but it's not what it seems to be, I promise.” She extended one foot backward, ready to take the leap of faith.

“_______, wait— you don’t have to do this, WAIT!” His feet finally began to move, racing toward her in pure desperation, every single cell in his body begging to make it to her before she makes the fall.

“I love you… and Hideyoshi… I’m sorry.”

With that, she swooped down and disappeared into the night.

Hideyoshi collided with the windowsill, eyes frantically searching the dark forest before him for any sign of his lover… but he was too late, she was gone.

He would have to return to Nobunaga and the others and explain what happened, what he allowed to happen. But first, he would need to wipe the waterfall of tears flowing on his face, and still his quivering heart.

—

As the days passed by, Hideyoshi’s heart fell into an eternal winter. He tasted no food, smelled no scents, processed no change in day or night, instead, all he felt was the ice forming within his chest. His allies had been informed, and she was now regarded as part of the enemy. With the war so close, there was only so much they could change, partly because she had also nabbed the backup plans— she took them all. Yet despite the infiltration, they still outnumbered the enemy by a fair amount, so Nobunaga ruled that the best route would be to proceed with caution, until the war develops and new counter-plans can be made once they know the enemy’s move. Things were looking down and depressing for the Oda Forces. With the enemy’s hands on all their resources, this would prove to be a difficult situation indeed.

Except… through skirmish after skirmish, and battle after battle, fate seemed to play out the direction of this war entirely in the Oda’s favor.

At first it was strange, perhaps a string of coincidences, but soon enough it became downright bizarre. It was as if all the Uesugi-Takeda troops were sent to blindly fall into the Oda’s traps on purpose. Had Kenshin not reviewed the stolen plans? No, someone must have certainly reviewed them, and cast their influence upon the enemy troops to sway the war into the Oda’s favor. With things going so well, the war didn’t live up to half the estimated duration, as the Uesugi-Takeda Forces finally chose to retreat in place of suffering another humiliating loss.

During the celebratory feast, Mitsuhide lowered himself to take a seat beside Hideyoshi, swirling the sake in his cup before casting a knowing glance through the corner of his eyes. “Well, it seems your little mouse did not betray us after all…” His voice trailed off, causing Hideyoshi's ears to perk. Indeed, this was the only explanation for the events that unfolded over the past few weeks, and the turnout for this war. A hint of spring began to grow within his heart, a single cherry blossom blooming among the thawing snow.

Hideyoshi made his way back toward Azuchi castle after spending yet another late night at the teahouse, drowning himself in her new favorite drink, although it didn’t quite suit his palate as much as it brought joy to hers. He often wondered about her, where she was. It took a world of restraint for him not to jump on his horse and dash into the woods screaming her name, hoping to find her safe and within reach. She hadn’t betrayed them after all, but on the other hand, she betrayed Kenshin, and she was now a wanted woman in that demon’s eyes. He couldn’t blame her for laying low, she needed to stay safe, and he wasn’t about to go out and do anything to jeopardize her safety. To deceive the lion right within his den was insanely foolish, yet irrevocably bolder and braver than what any soldier has done for the Oda Forces, for Nobunaga, and for Hideyoshi himself.

For a long time he wondered about how she became a spy for Kenshin, and when she decided she would forsake him. But as the days passed by and the aching in his chest grew, he became less concerned with the tales of the past and more interested in the future, a future where she returns to stand by his side. She made her choice, and although it wasn’t clear to Hideyoshi when she first left, it was clear as the moonlight now.

“Hideyoshi…” He could almost hear her sweet voice echoing in his thoughts…

“HIDEYOSHI!”

That was definitely not an echo.

He whipped his body around with such force that he nearly stumbled over, earning a stifled laugh from the woman he so desperately longed to see. She stood some paces away from him, a single figure perched firmly on the now dark and deserted road. A small rumble erupted within his body, a rumble that announced his growing need.

“Hideyoshi… I— I’m sorry about everything. I would have explained, but if I did then there was a chance that my plan would be discovered…”

She rushed to explain, her words flowing his way like rivers. He began to stride toward her, taking rapid, large steps as his looming figure quickly approached her smaller form.

“I know you might hate me after this, but please— know that I never wanted to hurt you, any of you. Never in a thousand years could I bring myself to betray the man I lov—”

Feverish lips found their way to one another, sealing the last of her words within a passionate kiss. As if on instinct, arms quickly snaked around the other’s form like they have so many times before, deepening the kiss with a powerful embrace. No more words were exchanged, but they both shared the knowledge that all was forgiven. With her safe in his arms, memories flooded his mind once more, as they did on that day. But this time, they slowly patched up all the wounds they once caused, melting the last bit of snow and welcoming back her eternal spring.

#admin maru #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #toyotomi hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi #fanfic #cybird #ikemen #requests

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sisterofiris · 6 years ago

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Reflecting on humanity in the Ancient Near East

Philosophy is a well-known field of study. What is less well-known, however, is the fact that the Ancient Greeks didn’t invent it. Okay, modern methodology does effectively come from them - but reflecting on ourselves, and on the world around us, can be traced back to the literary epics and prayers of the Ancient Near East (Mesopotamia, Anatolia and the Levant), 1500 years before Classical Greece. Unfortunately, unlike Plato and Aristotle, these texts are not part of our popular cultural background. As a result, many people assume pre-Greek thought was crude and unsophisticated. Not so!

In other words: move along, Kant, it’s time to learn about Kantuzili.

In this post, I’ll focus on one topic in particular: Ancient Near Eastern reflections on humanity. The Oxford Dictionary defines “humanity” as both “the state of being human” and “the quality of being humane”. The question we’ll be exploring is thus: what makes us human/humane, and why?

Being human

Our first interpretation of humanity comes from The Death of Gilgamesh, a Sumerian poem written as long ago as 2100 BC:

You must have been told that the defilement of being human would bring you this. You must have been told that the cutting of your umbilical cord would bring you this. The dark day of humanity has reached you. The lonely place of humanity has reached you. The wave that cannot be withstood has reached you. The battle that cannot be escaped has reached you. The skirmish that cannot be equal has reached you. The fight from which you cannot escape has reached you.** (The Death of Gilgamesh E 17-24)

In this text, the meaning of humanity is clear: inevitably, we all die. This puts us in opposition to the Gods, whose existence is eternal (even when they do “die”, like Innana in her descent to the Underworld, they don’t perish forever). Being human, then, is having a set amount of time on Earth.

Another Sumerian text, Utu the Hero (c. 1800 BC), expands on this idea:

The life of a human is the blink of an eye. If a human lived forever and always, a bitter force, a painful thing could happen, but it would not be painful for the human. Life is tied to long death, but life is not equal to death. A god can count the days of life, but he cannot count the days of death. (Utu the Hero 46-51)

Here, due to the association between life and death, we have an explanation for human suffering. Note that it’s also possible for bad things to happen to eternal beings; however, eternal life compensates for any harm, so they don’t suffer. On the other hand, since humans have a limited lifespan, we are bound to suffer.

It’s worth mentioning that this worldview is shared by the Ancient Greeks, especially during the Archaic Era. The Homeric epics consistently depict the Gods as being able to experience pain (by being wounded, for example), but always in a fleeting manner. To quote the Iliad:

Such is the fate that the Gods spun for wretched mortals, to live grieving, while they themselves are without care. (Iliad 24.525-526)

The passage from Utu the Hero was later adapted by the Hittite prince Kantuzili (c. 1400 BC), whose choice of words gives it a more intimate spin:

For me life is tied to death. For me death is tied to life. A child of humanity does not live forever. The days of his life are counted. If a child of humanity could live forever, even if human ills and sickness arose, they would not be a grievance to him. (Prayer of Kantuzili 20’-23’)

Kantuzili suffered from some kind of chronic illness, and he spends most of his prayer begging his personal God to heal him. Instead of simply musing on the state of being human, he uses it as an argument: if his life was endless, his chronic illness wouldn’t matter, but since he is human, he should be healed.

Of course, no discussion about Ancient Near Eastern concepts of humanity would be complete without the Akkadian Epic of Gilgamesh. The epic revolves around two main themes: the love between Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and Gilgamesh’s subsequent quest for immortality. Again, this ties into the definition of being human, as the Sippar tablet (c. 1800 BC) shows:

My friend whom I loved so much, who went with me through every hardship, Enkidu whom I loved so much, who went with me through every hardship, he went to the fate of humanity. (Sippar tablet ii 0’-4’)

Like previous texts, the epic’s lesson is that death is inevitable for humans, but it also brings up a new point: just like death is tied to life, suffering is tied to love. What prompts Gilgamesh’s desire to escape his lot isn’t pride, but the loss of his beloved. In short, we’re human because we die, because we die we suffer, and we suffer because we love.

Being humane

Beyond the meaning of humanity, the people of the Ancient Near East also asked themselves what it means to be a good human. Hittite texts are particularly talkative on this topic. In his testament, the founder of the Hittite kingdom, Ḫattušili I (c. 1600 BC), states that he is disowning his son because

He did not cry, he did not have mercy… He is cold and merciless. (Testament of Ḫattušili 6-7)

To the Hittites, being a good human - generally a good king, though the concept also seems to apply to common people - meant being merciful. The Hittite word for mercy, genzu-, overlaps with the concepts of love and benevolence. Etymologically it derives from genu-, “knee” or “lap”; thus what makes someone humane is their ability to (figuratively) take someone onto their lap.

The Telepinu Proclamation (c. 1500 BC) is particularly concerned with why we should be humane. When Telepinu came to power, most of his predecessors for the last hundred years had murdered each other to get the throne, but Telepinu insists on a different approach:

Do not kill anyone from the royal family. That is not good. Furthermore, whoever becomes king and seeks to harm a brother or sister, you are his council. Tell him clearly: ‘Read this story of bloodshed from the tablet. Once, bloodshed was common in Ḫattuša, and the Gods placed it on the royal family for you.’ (Telepinu Proclamation 29)

According to Telepinu, the Gods condemn bloodshed, whereas they reward harmony with prosperity. Being merciful, then - he also insists that his family’s murderers “harmed me, but I will not harm them” (idem, 23) - is good, because it restores the good order of things. The parallel between Telepinu’s throne name and the God Telepinu, who restores peace and harmony to a broken world in myth, is not a coincidence.

But what happens when our own humanity is not humane? This question is at the heart of Muršili II’s prayers (c. 1300 BC). To judge by his own account, Muršili is a good human, concerned with showing kindness and mercy; but he is confronted with the fact that the Gods have allotted suffering to him anyway:

I only punished her in this one way, that I banished her from the palace and discharged her from the office of priestess for the Gods. This was my only punishment for her. Gods, put this case down in front of you and investigate it. Has her life become bad now? Because she is alive, she sees the Sungod of Heaven with her eyes. She is still eating the bread of life. My punishment is the death of my wife. Has that become better? Because she killed her, throughout the days of my life my soul goes down into the dark earth. Did she spare me? She bereaved me. Gods, don’t you recognise whose is the punishment? (Prayer about the Misdeeds of the Tawananna A ii 17’-26’ and iii 1-4)

Muršili is pitting one side of humanity against the other: he questions the state of being human, suffering and death, because of the quality of being humane, mercy. If Muršili showed mercy, why would he be punished anyway? As far as I’m aware, this is the first instance we have in Hittite literature, and one of the first in Ancient Near Eastern texts overall, of someone doubting the Gods’ justice. Kantuzili, in all his pain, only ever asked: “What did I do to my God?” Muršili, however, protests: “Gods, what is this that you have done?”

This questioning is the result of a long history of reflections on what we are and why we are, and it doesn’t end with Muršili. Much of Greek philosophy deals with the same issues as Ancient Near Eastern texts, and it’s likely there was some influence (whether direct or indirect). But even without taking later Greek ideas into account, it’s clear that complex self-reflection was already well developed in the Ancient Near East.

As long as we’ve been human, we’ve wondered what that means.

**All translations are my own.

#ancient history #ancient near east #mesopotamia #Hittites #ancient greece #philosophy #damn i love cuneiform #damn i love the hittites #mursili ii #infodump #i've been waiting for the occasion to use that kant/kantuzili pun for 2 years so you'd better appreciate it

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