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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

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Blood for the Blood God

(Technoblade x Reader)

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

~~~

A young hybrid stood at the edge of the world, his pink hair tied up in a bun, face free of scars he’d acquired in his later years, and he looked decades younger. A diamond-encrusted dagger rested against his hip in its holder, his feet nervously tapped on the dirt. Silence surrounded him, maybe he should’ve told Phil where he was going, what he was going to do, the deal he was about to make. There were no trees on the cliffside, no signs of life anywhere for miles, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he stepped into another realm altogether. It was just him, the cliff, and of course the ancient scrolls in his bag. Technoblade frowned slightly thinking back on his old friend once more, would Phil’s family and his old friend be disappointed in his choices. Did he even care? He swallowed thickly holding out his hand, he pulled out a dagger from its holder, and drug it across his palm. Blood spilled from the wound, Technoblade let out a hiss of pain watching the blood pool in his palm. He held his hand out over the void and let a few drops of blood seep into space. He had long since memorized the words on the scrolls in his bag, Technoblade chanted the words written in Greek and he felt the wind begin to pick up around him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, He was grateful his hair was wrapped up in a bun or else it would be tangled and blowing all over the place. At this time in his life, his hair was down to his ankles, getting it calm in any sense of the word was a struggle.

Dust picked up and he covered his eyes, by the time Technoblade opened them a beautiful figure stood in the void, the goddess was giant, towering far above the treelines below the cliff. A crown rested on top of the Goddess’s head, it was golden and formed a halo above her head, stars littered across her face as her eyes opened. Her gaze bore straight into Techno’s soul, her gown was a deep black with red lacing across the neckline, and it flared out at her feet. A corset tight around her waist, intricate gold was embedded into the fabric, her (h/c) hair floating around her head.

“Technoblade,” Her voice sounded like silk in his ears, and he loved the way her voice said his name. Pink blossomed in his cheeks as his eyes widened, he didn’t even comprehend that she knew his name without even asking. “Why have you summoned me here today?” The Goddess hummed softly leaning downwards her giant face in front of Technoblades, he was in awe at her majesty. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and she lightly giggles pulling away from his body, Technoblade swallowed thickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re the Blood God?” He questioned not expecting you to be so womanly, you hummed softly tapping your nails on the ground causing it to rumble under his feet.

“I go by many names young one, but yes that is one of them.” She hummed the clouds began to swirl around her head, “I’m known as the Blood God, Blood Goddess, but if we strike a deal you may refer to me as (Y/n).”

“The scrolls said you’d be a man.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all.” Technoblade hurriedly corrected himself, “Just startled.”

“Men always like to change history,” She clicked her tongue in distaste brow furrowing in frustration. “Changing the great things women do, the fear of powerful women is only felt by weaker and pitiful men.” He watched the Goddess’s eyes turn blood red a smile came across her lips, “They deserve to bleed. Pitiful men don’t deserve to walk the same earth of those worthy.” Technoblade felt himself nodding alongside the Goddess’s words, she had a point. Any man who disrespects or underestimates women deserves the fate she mentioned. “Now Technoblade tell me what you need from me?”

“I wish to never die.” The words hung in the air, he watched the goddess lean back in contemplation.

“I cannot make you immortal, I’m afraid you’ve contacted the wrong God.”

Technoblade shook his head, he knew he contacted the proper God, if he tried to contact the God of Death, Phil would know immediately.

“It’s not necessarily immortality I am after,” You titled your head curiously urging the young man to continue his point. “I just want something to make me never die, whether it’s power or unaging, I need something.”

“Why? Are you aware of the consequences of becoming immoral or like an immortal,” The Goddess gently reached her hand out nudging her giant finger against his cheek, “To see those who love you die around you while you never age? Anyone, you fall in love with won’t grow old with you.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love.” He interrupted the goddess, standing up straighter. He watched her purse her lips, in a blinding flash of light a woman was standing in front of him. Technoblade felt his face heat up, in her mortal form she was much smaller, but her outfit remained the same, the crown still on her head, showing off her power.

“You cannot comprehend the ideas of the goddess of love Technoblade. She has many interesting ideas on who should fall in love.” Technoblade straightened as she leaned in closer to his face,

“I’ll fight them.”

The Goddess blinked a few times as Technoblade looked away awkwardly at what he blurted out, and you burst into hysterical laughter. You covered your hand with your mouth trying to stifle said laughter, he made a small ‘heh?’ like sound as you clutched your abdomen.

“Sorry- Sorry! I just never heard someone so willingly eager to fight the God of Love so they don’t fall in love.” Your eyes lit up with delight as Technoblade visibly relaxed, for the self-proclaimed Blood God you sure were child-like, much like Wilbur, “You’re so cute yet so naive.” He tensed again his teeth grinding together,

“I’m not naive.” He huffed narrowing his eyes not even processing that she had called him cute. You hummed a few more giggles spilling past your lips, before collecting yourself and straightening your dress.

“Technoblade, before we continue forward with our potential deal there are some stipulations.” You hummed softly holding out your hand, “If you wish for my power to never die this is what I can grant you.” You pressed your glowing red finger to his forehead, his pupils shrunk in and he saw himself in the future. Scars littered his face, arms, and back, his hair was tied into a tight braid, gold jewelry coated his ears and fingers. He had a scruff of a beard on his chin, and he overall radiated power. By his side in some form of a Tundra, was Phil, looking a little older, his right-wing shredded beyond repair. On Technoblade’s back were three Wither Skull tattoo’s one in the middle of his back and the other two on his opposite shoulder blades. A netherite sword hung on his hip and it seemed to be coated in dried blood, his arms were crossed in distaste, he caught a glimpse of three lines on his arm.

He never lost a single life. Suddenly he heard thousands of voices echoing in his head, he clutched his ears falling to his knees, all of them were screaming, pleading for blood.

Technoblade breathed heavily snapping back to the current reality, “what was that?” He panted eyes a bit frantic, “the future?”

“One version of it,” You hummed pulling your hand down to your side. “The future can change on such a whim there never may be a true future I can show you, but it was one.” His brow furrowed watching you reach out and trace over the lifelines on his wrist, a pleasant tingle was sent up his spine. “I can assure you the power I can give will not make you immortal, but it will give you the power to slaughter all your enemies on a whim. Reach your goals and make it nearly impossible to die, that is the power I can grant you.” He watched his lives glow a soft gold and he choked on his spit, another tingle shot up his body, “but there are consequences as there is with every deal one makes.”

Technoblade nodded in understanding willing to risk anything to be that powerful, keeping his life and living with Phil. So the older man won’t have to lose anyone else in his life due to his immortality.

“While you’ll be powerful and practically impossible to kill you will still be mortal. You will be able to die and will still be bound to the three life systems my brother has set up. However, you will live forever so long as that does not happen.” He felt your hand move up his arm and he involuntary flexed his muscles. “But, you’ll have to bear the curse of the Blood God,” You whispered eyes flashing in regret, “The voices.”

“Voices?” He questioned with an eyebrow raise watching you nod almost sadly.

“They will be hard to ignore and occur almost instantly once the deal is in place. There will be thousands of them, always talking or screaming begging you to kill and slaughter. Begging you to kill and supply me with the blood I so desperately crave be spilled on the land. They will say other things too, commenting on your thoughts and your life, you’ll eventually learn to live with them. Especially with my help, but they’re hard to deal with, hard to ignore their yearn for the slaughter of anything with a pulse. You’ll have to learn to get along with them, that is your only hope to not lose yourself to them.” He felt your hand up to his cheek, thumb brushing against the apples of them, “It will be painful and you’ll still need to train to gain more muscle and strength, but it will be easier for you to reach that goal. So with that in mind Technoblade, do we have a deal?”

Technoblade locked eyes with the Goddess in front of him, he could deal with a few voices screaming in his ear, after all, you’d be by his side, helping him learn and grow.

“Deal,” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “how do we go about this?” He tensed swallowing thickly watching you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re touching my face, that’s fine this is fine, not intimate at all.” He watched you raise an eyebrow,

“It’s about to get a lot more intimate I’m afraid,” You purred as Technoblade flushed red, he felt your one hand remove itself from his cheek. She trailed her hand down his neck and his body, he was a shivering, red mess, she found the dagger at his side. He watched in awe as it floated in front of her, slicing open her palm, blood bubbled from the wound it was laced with golden flecks of ambrosia. Technoblade looked at her nervously, “Drink.”

“Eh?” He made a disgusted face eyeing the blood smearing on your palm, he watched it drip intimately down your wrist. Technoblade swallowed thickly, “why?”

“You have to take a piece of me to grant my power, you’ll grow fond of the taste of blood eventually.” You smiled pityingly, another hand gently squeezing his neck and Technoblade let out a shaky breath. He placed a hand on your wrist looking up into your eyes, you hummed sweetly urging him to continue, “I don’t bite. Hard.” You mused, eyes sparkling, dangerously, the look was verging on flirty, the young man flushed. He leaned forward, hesitantly licking the dripping blood that spilled down your arm up to the cut you made with his dagger. The ambrosia in your blood tingled his tongue tasting sweeter than honey, his pupils blew wide dragging his tongue across your palm. He barely registered your hand in his hair, curling around the loose stands tenderly, and much like a kitten, he began to lap at your palm. Technoblade felt like his entire body was on fire, but the blood you possessed tasted so sweet, he felt as though he’s never tasted anything better. He drank until your body healed and he couldn’t taste any more blood, he felt a whine bubble in his throat desperately trying to get more blood from your healed cut. You shushed him softly poking his nose, which seemingly snapped him back to reality, ears turning red as a small amount of blood stained the corner of his mouth. You leaned forward standing on your tiptoes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue lapping at the left-over blood. He let out another whine as you pulled away licking your teeth, humming fondly at the taste. “Such a good boy, listening to your god,” he felt himself pant his vision blurring the praise from you swimming in his head, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

Technoblade’s eyes snapped open as the world around him filled with screaming voices, he yelled out in agony as a fire shot through his skull, burning his brain and licking at the top of his spine. Voice pleading and screaming for more blood, to paint the entirety of the cliffside with sweet blood, to grab the nearest thing with a pulse and tear it to pieces. His pupils shrank and his mouth began to water helplessly,

‘Blood for the Blood God! Serve her! We live to serve her, get her blood. Feed us, Feed her. Blood. Blood. Blood. Kill anything that tries to stop us. Blood. Blood. Blood.’

These millions of voices pounded heavily in his ears, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Suddenly the voices quieted and he was vaguely aware of your hand on his forehead,

‘Goddess, our goddess.’

“Shhhh,” You whispered fondly and Technoblade leaned into your cool touch. “Be kind to this one, he’s special.” He didn’t understand what you meant but heard the voices calm down as you spoke to them. “Play nice,” Techno realized that you weren’t talking to him but the voices in his head.

‘Yes ma’am. We’ll be good. But I want to break this one. Don’t be rude to our goddess! Bark, bark, bark. Don’t bark at her! She’s gorgeous though! Truly a work of art. We just want to provide you with blood! Let us play with him a little!’

“I know my darlings and I appreciate it.” You cooed fondly and Technoblade felt warmth flow through his entire being. “But try to get along with this one, he’s special,” Technoblade watched the goddess wink at him. He found himself asking her if he would see her again and she snickered softly,

“Of course you will. We’re interconnected now,” you took his hand, allowing his bigger one to encompass your own. “I’ll see you again soon, try not to die.” In another flash of light, the goddess was gone, he was left alone with the roaring voices and deep-seated loneliness that he was not accustomed to feeling.

It only took a few weeks for Phil to find out about his meeting with the Blood God herself he was immediately worried for his friend. Scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless, even if what he was preaching was largely hypocritical. The newly acquired voices seemed to have a different interpretation of his nagging, instead, they urged Technoblade to call the man Dadza. Behind Phil his crows cawed and flocked around the both of them, Phil’s brow furrowed and squeezed Technoblade’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing mate. Dealing with gods is a dangerous game,” Phil sighed “I know that better than anybody. You need anything, contact me immediately.”

“I will,” The young man nodded in response to his old friend, “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” Phil responded his wings fluttering anxiously, “Just know how dangerous the Blood God can be, the voices granted to you will be hard to resist.”

“She gave me the spiel Phil, I can handle a few voices.” Technoblade scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, “Have a little faith.” Phil only grew more concerned watching Techno’s hand twitch, he could only hope he knew what he got himself into.

~~~

“Oh, Technoblade what have you done?” Your voice echoed in his head as he snarled loudly, red eyes blazing fire. Corpses littered his feet, blood staining the floor and walls, he was older than the last time she had visited. Hair was tied in a braid, scars littered his face and arms that seemed to only accentuate the blood staining his face. His ax was in the corner of the room blood stained the weapon as well, “You poor man.” He turned towards you and snarled the voices in his head roared needily, his head and heart were pounding, “Use your words.” You commanded hardly red mist swirling around your fingers, it hit him square in the chest sending him flying backward into a wall. Behind you stood a taller figure, in his state Technoblade could only make out a mask with a large ‘X’ carved into it.

“Your little plaything seems to be struggling with your curse dear sister,” XD mused from behind you, “Your supposed prodigy seems to have lost control.” You clicked your tongue in distaste sending your brother a look.

“Technoblade come back to your God.” You commanded your voice harshly seeping into his ears, he only roared in response, steam coming out of his nostrils. “I’m disappointed in you all,” the voices all at once stopped their screaming and Technoblade fell to his knees the sudden shift to silence throwing him off. You walked over to his crumpled body, bare feet stepping on the wooden planks marking the floorboards with your bloodied footprints. You knelt in front of him, the hybrid breathing heavily, his tusks tried to cut your skin and succeeded in pricking your fingers. You grabbed onto his tusks, those were also bigger than the last time you saw them, you tugged them harshly. He grunted in pain, “No.” You snarled looking deep into his eyes, “You slaughtered an entire village of innocent lives! That is not in my plan or my wishes you stupid mortal!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his clarity was slowly coming back to him. “There were children here! Children you tore apart, I trusted you to have some semblance of control, and you!” She pressed a manicured nail to the top of his head speaking directly to the voices, “I asked for one thing from you and you make him do this!”

“Get ‘em, girl. You tell them.” XD mused from behind you, snapping his fingers almost sassily. His robes flowing around his arms, you turned over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Oh, go fuck George Lore.”

“Fuck you.” Lighting cackled from behind the God of the SMP his long nails digging into the flesh on his arms. You huffed glaring at your older brother, from behind you Technoblade tried to lunge at God for disrespecting his Goddess. “Watch your dog,” He scoffed another growl bubbling in Technoblade’s throat.

“Techno.” Your voice filled his ears again and he fell against your shoulder, “I haven’t been a good Goddess to you have I?” You spoke softly, his entire body relaxing into you as he listened to you. “You cannot handle the voices on your own that was my mistake, I will train you so this doesn’t happen again that I can promise you.” Your fingers gently played with the hair on the back of his neck,

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled groggily,

“There he is, welcome back to the real world.” The goddess pulled away from his beaten body, he looked around seeing the blood and the bodies. His ears twitched something akin to guilt curled in his stomach.

Had he done this? To a village of innocent traders?

“Did I..?”

“You lost control I’m afraid.”

“I- that’s impossible, I was doing so well I had control-”

“Technoblade!” A voice called out pushing past XD, an older gentleman with messy blonde hair a bucket hat. “You’re alright!- Who the hell are all of you?” The man seemed to realize they weren’t alone and his eyes locked onto yours. “(Y/n)?”

“Philza Minecraft. Long time no see,” You hummed a smile spreading across your lips, “Kristin says hello.”

Phil’s entire face flushed to the tips of his ears and he coughed nervously, “Er...tell her the same and that I miss her.”

“I will,” You gave a little bow of your head, “Is Technoblade your son?”

“More like an old friend, but I see him as such.”

“Shut up old man,” Technoblade grumbled sitting up on his knees without you to support him.

“I didn’t realize you were the Blood God,” Phil continued dropping by Technoblade’s side the old man was missing a few of his flight feathers. A large cut was gouged into his shoulder, that was it that was the trigger, something must’ve hurt Phil and caused the halfling to snap.

“That seems to be a common theme,” You frowned a little with a gentle sigh, you tried to glance at your brother, but XD had long since disappeared from the doorway. Most likely because he was bored and wanting to go bother Foolish, “Philza.” You declared as Technoblade glanced over at you through hooded eyes, “Will you allow me to train and help your son."

“He’s not my dad-”

“Of course Goddess, whatever will help him stay in control.” You nodded your head at the consent, in a flash of light your entire appearance changed. You looked much more human, with a simple yet sophisticated outfit that fit the period

“Then let’s begin.”

~~~

The sun began to rise above the cliff where Technoblade had first summoned his Goddess. He took in a deep breath inward and then let the breath outwards after a few minutes of holding it. He sat criss-cross on the cliffside letting air into his lungs as he remembered the meditation techniques you had taught him many years ago. The voices were particularly antsy today but he had learned from the best how to control them, to quiet them down, talk, and reason with them.

‘The sun is rising. It’s very pretty, can we please just spill a little bit of blood?’

“No.” He murmured under his breath, “We get to see (Y/n) today. Don’t ruin this for me. We need her help.”

“They bothering you?” Your voice flowed through his head like butter, and warmth engulfed his entire being,

‘We are not! Come on, we love you! E!!!! Don’t be mean to us!’

“They said you’re being mean.”

“Am not,” You snorted wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and fell across his broad shoulders. Surprisingly the goddess’s touch comforted him, while others’ touches felt like fire, yours was pleasant. “Just want to make sure my prodigy is safe and in control,”

“I am thanks to your lessons.”

“Good, now. You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. Do tell, I’m very curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.” A feather-light kiss was placed on his cheek as you moved from behind him to the front, he adored you. The sunlit up your cheeks and framed your head like a halo, it was like everything on earth was made to make you look perfect.

“I have a predicament,” He tapped his nails on his knees as you hummed thoughtfully, “There’s a war brewing between the government of ‘New L’manburg’ and myself. The government killed Wilbur, drove him so mad that Phil had to kill him to stop his nonsense.”

“I remember that,” You said with a stern nod, “there was a lot of blood spilled that day.” The people who fought in the war lost a lot of lives and you remembered it vividly, XD watched the battle with you from above, you wanted to keep an eye on Technoblade. When the battle was over and his allies betrayed him it took all of your willpower to not go down there and kill them all where they stood.

No one touches your prodigy.

XD had to physically hold your powers away from you, it was the closest you’ve come to losing control of since you were a young Goddess.

When Technoblade escaped to the Tundra that’s when you appeared in front of him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. He grunted at the unfamiliar body but there was only one person that he knew of who could appear out of nowhere and that was his Goddess. You remembered him apologizing to you, fearing you’d be mad at him for failing to kill all those who opposed you and him. You shut him up with a searing kiss, he was dizzy as you pulled away,

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he murmured still recovering from the shock of the kiss, recovering from how much he enjoyed feeling your lips press against his own. “I won’t disappoint you again,”

“You better not.” You cupped his cold cheek with your hand, he nuzzled into it, “You have so much more to give.” Technoblade gave a stern nod as the voices urge him to kiss your forehead, and he listened. “My strong prodigy,” you recalled how he shivered at your words “Are you mine?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.”

“I can live with that.”

His big hand cupped your cheek and you snapped your attention back to the mortal in front of you, you smiled and kissed one of the scars on his palm. Techno brushed his thumb across your cheek, the stars on your face left his fingers tingling. “I need your help, they tried to execute me and hurt Phil they need to be taught a permanent lesson. Please fight by my side,”

“Love, you know I’m not allowed to interfere with wars of mortals. My brother will demote me.”

“I know that,” Technoblade assured reaching out to squeeze your hand, “that’s not what I mean or what I want for you Goddess.” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head,

“Explain,” consider your curiosity peaked.

“Grant me more of your power, fight through me, my dear.” Your eyes widened as his eyes flashed red,

“That’ll tear you apart, you will not be able to handle that.”

“I will.”

“Techno-”

“I trust you.”

Your lips dipped into a tight frown, “I don’t trust myself.” You admitted closing your eyes, “I’m called the Blood God for a reason Technoblade.”

“You’ve taught me how to keep control, I know you can as well darling. Please.”

“Fine,” You agreed after a while looking at the ground, “I’ll let my power flow through you on one condition. You only use it once when it’s life or death.”

“I promise you,” he leaned forward and kissed your lips causing you to purr happily. “I’ll only use it once just keep an ear out for when I call for you.”

“I will.”

The battle came much faster than Technoblade would’ve liked, he had Dream, Phil, and the dogs by his side. They would blow the government to smithereens and won’t stop until they hit bedrock. Above the clouds, he knew his Goddess was watching over them, there was no way they wouldn’t succeed. He felt the voices yearn for blood, yearn to serve and please their god, to wreck the entire governmental system. Dream told Technoblade and Phil their duties, which consisted of distracting the government with as many Withers as possible, so Dream could set up the canons. Technoblade could feel the buzzing in his skull knowing the voices were itching to set off the Withers and conquer. They gathered the wolves from underneath L’manburg and Technoblade ruffled their fur and gave them each some last-minute treats, he hated to think of that as a last meal for some of them, but that’s essentially what they were. As he made his way into the country Phil had squeezed his shoulder, a gesture meant to be affectionate in nature.

“Try not to die.”

“You too old man. You still have the totem I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now let’s kick their asses,” Technoblade grinned viciously. He looked up into the swirling clouds in the sky, crows screaming overhead, “Watch over me, my goddess.” His head filled with warmth and he knew you were by his side like you promised you would be, Phil smiled over at Technoblade and looked to the sky as well.

‘Watch over him (y/n), Kristin,’ He thought getting into a position to release his Withers onto the world.

Technoblade followed suit, the citizens caught onto his presence almost immediately, ready to battle him with weapons drawn. Luckily the dogs took care of anyone who dared try to get a hit in, ripping apart any exposed flesh and spilling their blood on the ground. The dogs allowed him to set up two Withers and send them into the battle, exploding and targeting individuals in their line of sight. Technoblade escaped into a small area by a river and was suddenly attacked by Sapnap. The fire demon spawn’s eyes were alight with bloodlust, seemingly from slaughtering half of his pet wolves singlehandedly.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Sapnap grinned swinging the sword in his hand, fire sparking from the horns on his head. Technoblade had no time for the cocky man’s small talk as he charged at him, he blocked the blow with ease, golden ring glinting in the fleeting light. “Not much of a talker huh? No matter,” Sapnap snickered, “I’ll be the one to take your first life.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Technoblade snorted pulling away to kick Sapnap in the chest, he stumbled back but he was known for his quick recovery time. He grunted a little and sent a trail of fire-spitting towards Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade was distracted by the fire and it allowed the demon to slice a deep cut into Technoblade’s chest, the man didn’t have time to block. He grits his teeth and felt blood seep across his chest, pain ricocheting through his body. The voices roared to kill the idiot, to get up and give him a severe wound back, but before he could he was kicked in the chest by Sapnap and fell to his back. The sword was pointed at his neck and it dug in just deep enough for a droplet of blood to bubble under the sword.

He was fucked.

‘Call her. Call (Y/n). Call the Blood God. Call our Blood God. Blood for the Blood God.’

“Any last words?”

“(Y/n) I need you.”

“Who the fuck-” A blaring light blinded Sapnap as he stumbled back, squinting his eyes he could barely make out Technoblade in front of him. Technoblade’s eyes blazed a scarlet red, the wound on his chest healing over rapidly like he just ate two god apples. That wasn’t the worst of it though, Sapnap stumbled back some more, above Technoblade’s head was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her hands were cupping his head, red seeping from her fingers and licking at Techno’s head like flames. The Goddess’s eyes were closed as her hair floated around her head, framing her face beautiful, she was terrifying calm,

“What the fuck. Who the fuck?” His voice cracked watching the being open her sharp eyes, a bloodthirsty grin appeared on her lips. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Technoblade. Kill the idiot man, who dared to try and kill you. That is my command. Give Blood to your Blood God.”

Technoblade’s lips curled over his tusks, he was salivating, the voices were roaring. “Blood for the Blood God,”

He spoke and the last thing Sapnap saw was the shine off Technoblade’s blade, and the glowing eyes of the Goddess herself before the world around him went dark.

Technoblade was breathing heavily, the voices wanted more blood, he felt the pull from you as well, you wanted more blood spilled. Steam curled around his nose and he shook his head, ‘no. no more. Thank you.’ He licked the blood off his sword and the voices quieted, satisfied with the taste on his tongue.

“Stay safe,” Your voice echoed around the battlefield, some chose to ignore the booming voice of the female but others turned to look. Staring in awe at the sight of the goddess, many not knowing her origin or what she was but felt her power over the battlefield. “Don’t disappoint me,”

“You know I won’t.” He grinned blood staining his teeth, behind him an explosion rang out, Dream was ready with the TNT cannons. He heard a familiar cry from who he assumed Tommy and when he turned back to face you, you were gone.

They will forever know that Technoblade serves and is dating the Blood God.

~~~

Tag list: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

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fumingspice · 4 years ago

Text

Big Love

Disclaimer: It includes smut and possibly some angry typing because i spilt my peach tea (might have to sue Lipton’s now smh) over my dad’s computer so if I'm not killed for writing smut then that's why I'm dead.

Pairing: Billie-Dean Howard x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Prompts: "I might have slept in your robe while you were gone" & "I've never wanted to fuck you this badly" & "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"

It had taken almost two years for the celebrity medium to make you fall for her, and boy did she have her work cut out with you. Sensibility and responsibility were your two strongest suits and Billie-Dean, as admirable as she may be, found is maddening.

When she had finally gotten you to blush for the first time, you knew it would be a fast and slippery slope down the landslide that was your employer. It had started with the odd brushing of hands when she stood close to you; her pinky finger "coincidentally" falling over your own that time you went to see a movie together; those beautiful brown eyes darting from your eyes to your lips in the middle of a conversation; compliments to your personality and appearance. You exuded your professionalism, unknowingly only making the medium even more desperate to call you her own.

The final slip that contributed to the falling happened on one cold winter night- Billie-Dean had suggested you stay until the worst of the blizzard had passed. "I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N," she told you, sincerity in her voice. You pursed your lips tight and gave in to her for the first time. The medium bounced on the spot and clapped her hands together. "Excellent," she said, "we can watch a movie if you like." You agreed to this. A little movie with a boss never hurt anyone's career, you decided. And you were completely right; this wasn't going to hurt anyone at all- at least, not in a bad way.

Billie returned to the living room with two glasses of wine and a bowl of popcorn balanced on her head, a smile draped across her face. You chuckled at her and accepted the glass of wine. "I don't think you realise how proud I am of myself for not dropping this everywhere, hon," she told you, sitting at the other end of the couch- further from you than what she would usually sit. This was odd, the past few months Billie had constantly sat right beside you unless you had made it clear that you were uncomfortable with the closeness, although you rarely did. You tried your best to ignore both the strangeness and the butterflies hovering in your chest.

"You should be very proud of yourself," you said, relaxing back onto the soft leather. Billie-Dean had chosen to put on Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The movie was pretty uneventful until about fifteen minutes in when Billie finally scooted herself closer to you. "Oh, there she is," you tease, biting your tongue between your teeth, "I was wondering why you were sitting so far from me." Billie chuckled, telling you to shut up playfully. "I got cold," she said, her cheeks going slightly pink. You mutter a "yeah, yeah," as she kicked her feet onto the couch and lent against you, hesitating so long to lay her head against your chest that you gently brought her head down yourself.

Your heart was beating fast and you were confident that Billie could sense your nerves, but for the first time, you had noticed a shyness in Billie's usually flirtatious manner towards you. Unsure of what to do with your hand that didn't hold the glass of wine, you brought it up to her head and started playing with her blonde locks. Another song came on in the musical and even you- the biggest sceptic of all time- could sense her shyness.

Billie hoisted herself up on her arm closest to your body and turned to face you, clearly no longer interested in the movie. She spoke your name in a low whisper, a longing in her voice. Her darting eyes gave you her full intentions, and you would have been more than happy to fall under the spell of her lips had her legs not have knocked the bowl of popcorn and her glass of wine off the coffee table and onto the wooden floor beneath.

"Oh, for fuck sake!" she exclaimed, running for a towel to soak up the wine. You chuckled nervously, getting off the couch to pick up the popcorn. The blonde came scuttling back in and threw a towel over the mess. "God, I'm a mess. I'm sorry, Y/N," she mumbled, biting her lip. Her anxiety concerned you- this was extremely out of character for her. You let her soak up the wine before you lay your hand over hers.

"Billie, what is the matter with you? I've never seen you like this," you said, searching for any hint you could get in her eyes.

The woman stopped biting her lip. "I'm afraid of messing this up," she muttered, taking the towel and going back to the kitchen without warning.

You followed her back in, finally able to see her in the light. Her makeup-free face glowed in the soft light. Mess what up? You stood close to her, taking her hand shyly. Billie looked straight into your soul, her eyes turning warm.

Soft.

The swiftness and natural feeling of her touch came too quickly for you to comprehend completely what was happening, but you didn't need to. It was like the action had been etched into your soul. Billie rested her hand on your face and pulled you into herself, her lips folding over your own in a flurry of emotions. It had lasted only seconds but sweet Jesus you had never experienced such a sweet bliss in your life. Billie's hands ran on their whim, tangling into your hair and pulling you closer into her mouth. Her tongue found an entrance and rolled smoothly over your own.

"and if you saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills."

The radio added to the silence between you when she realised what she had done and pulled away. You expected nervousness yet again, but you were met with a signature grin. "I'm gonna pretend that I'm not as nervous as I feel," she chuckled, breathless from your kisses. You grinned and chuckled back.

"You have nothing to be nervous about, Billie-Dean," you said, glad that she finally regained her confidence a little. The woman's eyes darted to your lips again until she pulled herself back to reality. "Shall we finish the movie?" You ask, admiring her features.

Billie nodded and led you back to couch. This time, she pulled you into her, so that you lay comfortably across her chest as her fingers ran delicately your back, tracing lines upon lines on the fabric. It was clear that now that she knew that she had you, she had no interest in the movie. Eventually, after a few deepened kisses, she snatched the remote and paused the movie, pulling you into a straddle on her lap. You grinned and brought your face close to hers before pulling away again as her face came towards you.

"Patience, beautiful," you tell her, teasing her for a few more seconds before pushing her forcefully into the couch. Billie's eyes widened at your need to dominate her, but you had no idea that's not what she had planned. You took her face in your hands and kissed her passionately and hard. Her hands dropped slowly from your lower back to your ass, squeezing quickly before moving her lips from your mouth down your jaw and leaving small purple love bites down your neck before reaching your clavicle. Her hands fought to undo the buttons of your blouse before you pushed her back, hand resting on her throat. "Easy tiger," you breathed. Billie groaned and rolled her eyes. You chuckled at her frustration. "You know I'm not leaving until tomorrow, right?"

Your lips made her way to her jawline, sucking every few kisses until you reached her mid-neck. Billie gasped loudly as your tongue slid over the sensitive skin, sucking hard and wide. You drew back at the slightly metallic taste and admired your art. "That's for making me fall for you," you whispered.

Billie's eyes widened as she saw the huge mark in the mirror close by. Her eyes darkened as she pulled your shirt, buttons snapping and exposing your bra. Billie glared in hunger, making eye contact with you as her lips caught the swell of your breast and kiss passionately. "Fuck," you breathed as you felt her hands slip behind your arched back and unclasp your bra. She took the garment and waved it in front of your face.

"Oh, sweetie. Fuck is right," she teased, biting your skin to leave a dark bruise. Her mouth shifted teasingly close to your nipples before she drew back again to look at the marks she had dotted down your chest and neck.

It was still nothing compared to what was left on her neck.

She spent what felt like hours teasing your skin, but never going as far as to slip her hand or mouth over sensitive areas, and she was driving you up the walls. Eventually, Billie decided you had suffered enough for the massive mark on her neck and she led you up the stairs to her bedroom.

"I'm gonna nip down to the shop for some orange juice," she told you, giving you a deep kiss. "Do you want anything?"

You declined and lay on her bed, pulling her down with you. "I want you to stay," you told her between kisses. Although; what you wanted to know was

Billie chuckled. "I'm a fast runner," she told you as she slipped on a pair of sneakers.

While she was out, you explored around her bedroom, taking a robe that was hung up in her closet, stripping off and putting that on before crawling into the covers. Billie kept her word and was back in less than ten minutes.

"You made me wait," you muttered with a raised brow. Billie grinned when she saw your clothes folded on the bedside table. She excused herself to the bathroom, then returned minutes later wearing a silk robe, her red lingerie showing beneath. You bit your lip at the sight.

"I promise that its worth it," she whispered as she crawled into the covers, her body hovering over yours. She looked at your stolen robe and giggled. "This looks familiar," she said, slipping a hand under the fabric to cup your breast. You let out a light moan, trying to push down the longing further south in your body.

"I had to leave you something to take off, didn't I?" you teased, biting your finger. You knew how to drive this woman up the wall and you were going to do exactly that.

Unfortunately, Billie seemed to have the same idea. She pulled back, sitting straight as she straddled your hips. The medium took her hand and traced it down her neck, pausing at her breast and then sliding it slowly between her thighs and moaning lightly. You left your hands on her hips, following her swaying movements against your body. She lent down, taking your left leg and putting it over her shoulder.

"I've never wanted to fuck you so badly," she whispered into your ear, causing goosebumps to race down your arms and thighs. Her lips went straight to yours once again, kissing you before pulling back one last time. "May I?" she asked, her fingers tracing dangerously close to your entrance. You nodded into her mouth, trying to calm your body what was about to happen, Billie kissed your neck, sliding her middle finger in slowly. Your back arched up and a low moan escaped your lips. Any indication of experiencing pleasure only made Billie more energetic. She slipped in a second finger, curling upwards and laying the heel of her palm against your clit, trying to test how far your limits were without pushing any boundaries.

Her mouth explored everywhere- kissing your face, neck, leaving hickeys and bruises over your collar bones in a swirl pattern.

It was still nothing compared to that zombie attack on her neck.

Your skin looked like you had just been pelted with fifty BB-gun pellets. Your lips were swollen, some hickeys were raised slightly, your nipples were tender.

Frankly, your body must have looked like it was having a very insistent demon exorcised from it with your moans and jerks. Billie slowed down her fingers and carefully removed them, the sensation of not having her digits inside you was now unfamiliar. "Oh, baby. I'm not finished yet," she said, voice low and groggy. She made her way up, sucking, biting and kissing your skin until she reached your lips; kissing you like her life depended on you. She had edged you all the way to an orgasm before slowing down again. "I wanted to use my mouth," was her excuse. She began the trail back down again, kissing, nipping, biting until she got to your belly button. Here, she kissed gently, treating you as if you were a masterpiece. "Is this okay?" You nodded, still too breathless to speak. Billie went back into her zone, kissing your abdomen and leaving hickeys on your thighs and hips.

She let you yearn for her touch for a few moments, leaving you in a position where the only thhing you could do is stare at her ceiling and writh with desperation. You had to grab the sheets to stop your hands from grabbing her by the head and pulling her between your legs. After enough anticipation, she lowered her head between your legs and slowly dragged her tongue along your entrance. Your head fell back, the warm wetness and heat of her breath only adding to the intense rapture. A sharp moan made her pick up her speed gradually, allowing your moans and whimpers to guide her. "Billie," you moaned, your hands tangling in her blonde hair and pulling her in further, her chuckle sending vibrations into your heat which only added to the rippling pleasure. A request for her to go harder sent her up the wall as she sucked and released your clit from her mouth with a loud pop.

"You like that, babygirl?" Your lack of a reply was her answer. She stopped what she was doing until you looked straight at her. Her big brown eyes were dark with arousal and the skin around her mouth was coated with her saliva and your wetness. Her lips curled into a grin.

"You're done?" you asked in disappointment. "You didn't let me have an orgasm." Billie's grin never faultered as she reached up to kiss you, her tongue begging entrance to your mouth. She returned to your nether region to complete her work.

Instead of warming you up like she did last time, she dove straight in with an open mouth. You could feel yourself edging extremely close and your thighs shut tight around her head. The blonde moved a thigh to the side, bringing her hand to replace her mouth at your entrance and continuing sucking on your clit. It was now clear that her main intention was making sure that you would be unable to sit tomorrow. Her fingers curled deep inside you, hitting the spot that she had searched so hard to find. A tension became obvious in your lower abdomen as you grabbed her head hard. You gave a long and sharp moan as she rode you through your orgasm. It lasted longer than any you'd ever had or any she had ever given. She stayed between your legs a while longer, using her tongue to clean you up before crawling up beside you. You kissed Billie and she pulled you close.

"You know, Y/N. You're the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life."

Minutes passed and you cuddled together in a very comfortable silence as you caught your breath and relaxed. "Billie, I-"

Billie interrupted you with a kiss. "-think that was the most amazing moment of your life?" she finished. You grinned and rolled your eyes as she lit a cigarette and pulled you against her bare chest.

"Yes," you said. "That. And I wanna know if this is something real or just some casual fuck."

Billie stopped short from taking a draw of her cigarette. "What do you mean?" she asked, her brows knitting together.

You sit up to face her. "I like you, Billie. As in I really like you. As in if we're going to do this then I want to be in a serious relationship." Billie's eyes softened at your words, she nodded for you to continue. "I know that I'm not the first assistant of yours to fall into your bed- and God knows I probably won't be the last- but I just wanna know how you feel about me."

Billie sucked in her cheeks. "I like you, Y/N. I like you alot. Not as my assistant and not as a friend. I've never been in a relationship before that wasn't based on- I don't know- horniness or career jumping. Honestly, I've felt this way about you far too long for this to be a casual crush," she admitted. You blushed lightly and smiled.

"So, what does that mean?" you ask.

Billie frowned. "You're a smart girl. You don't need me to spell it out for you."

You chuckled at her hesitance, "sorry, Billie-Dean. There's a bit of a pain between my legs that's causing my thoughts to stop."

Billie rolled her eyes and brought you back down on her chest.

Silence crept in and you were afraid she was trying to find a way to let you down easy.

"Y/N?"

You swallowed and braced yourself. "Yes?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

#ahs imagines #billie dean howard x reader #ahs #sarah paulson #billie dean howard #cordelia goode #wilhemina venable #sally mckenna #cordelia goode x reader #wilhemina venable x reader

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abarbaricyalp · 4 years ago

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Inhale My Soul

am i reposting my favorites from the prompt meme from last night just by themselves? maybe

AO3 link in the reblog

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Dissolving hadn’t felt like anything. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood what was actually happening. Maybe he’d thought it was just a trick of the reality stone. Maybe human minds weren’t meant to comprehend anything close to what had happened.

Coming back felt like dying.

He woke up on his back and he couldn’t breathe. It was like he had no lungs at all, just a trachea spasming in his throat without air, like a gills with no water. He grasped for the ground and the feeling of dirt was horrifying, a grave waiting to swallow him down into the Earth. The wind was knives on his skin. His suit felt like it was trying to pry his spine from his ribs. His legs ached like someone was trying to stretch the bones on a crank.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

It took him too long to realize the ragged breath that broke the silence like a gunshot came from his own chest. The hands digging his own grave shot to his chest, felt the rise and fall of his ribs and lungs, the proof that he was breathing. He was alive again.

He rolled onto his side and heaved until his ribs creaked, still firmly attached to his spine. There was nothing to come up, but the noise was comforting, the ache that he could name and handle was safe. Human. Living human.

His knees were in his legs when he leaned back on his haunches. They sank into the earth but the grave didn’t swallow him down. No unwilling sacrifice to be taken from him. He brought his dirt covered fingers--firm and whole and attached to him--up to his face. He found his cheeks, a beard with edges that were too straight for a man who had died and been put back together, his teeth. They throbbed in his gums like they were all about to fall out but they were there in his head. His tongue.

He could speak.

“Steve!” he shouted and his throat screamed in protest, the air in his lungs turned to fire. “Steve!” he called again and forced himself to his feet. His boots were tied. His pants were still tucked into them. There was no blood, which seemed wrong. He felt flayed open and left to soak into the ground. How could there be no blood?

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

Sam whirled around at the tired voice. The trees danced in his vision. The grass clutched at his legs, which still felt like they were being stretched out and sunk into the earth. The trees were going to take him over. The grass was going to eat him again. No one was looking. No one would find him. Why wasn’t anyone ever looking for him?

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around Sam tightly. It hurt in the best way. Sam held him back, face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t even care about what gore he was smearing all over himself. Bucky’s hand came to the back of Sam’s head and Sam almost expected it to hit exposed brain but it didn’t. Instead his calloused fingers brushed over Sam’s short hair, smoothing over the natural lines and divots in it until goosebumps erupted over Sam’s skin.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky was the first to move, stepping back half a step, a quarter of a step, barely any at all, just enough to bring his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. The cheeks and the mouth and the skin that was all there and new again. He tilted Sam’s head back, eyes intense and clear in front of Sam.

Had it not felt the same for him? Was he not grappling with his ridiculously weak claim to existence? Or, fuck, was this how he always felt after being frozen and woken up? Had he been going through this for seventy years with no one to run to? With no one to hold him and remind him that things could feel good?

Sam’s fingers tightened in Bucky’s vest and just as Bucky was starting to say something Sam couldn’t honestly answer--something about how he felt, if anything hurt, if he needed medical attention--Sam hauled him down into a desperate kiss. Their noses smashed together and pain bloomed across Sam’s face, made his eyes water, made him want to sneeze, made him want to lean into it all the more, like the pressed-on-bruise ache of Bucky’s arms around him.

He felt Bucky’s teeth notch a split into Sam’s lip by accident, crushed together with nowhere to go. Finally it softened. Bucky’s mouth pressed against his until Sam felt like he could actually breathe, until he could make his mouth do what he wanted, catch Bucky’s lower lip between both of his, wring out a noise he’d never heard the other man make before. Bucky’s hands on his face kept him close and Sam’s fingers tightened in his vest. He wanted to crawl into Bucky’s chest--felt like, maybe, he could after being unmade and remade. Their noses knocked together again as Sam tried to turn his head, kiss the other side of Bucky’s mouth, let Bucky bruise the rest of his lips.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

“I think that was us. I think...someone brought us back,” Bucky said. Pain flashed over his face as he looked at Sam and then pulled him in for another kiss. Sam tried to understand a second chance in it, but all he could feel was Bucky and relief and adoration. He wasn’t sure where that one came from more--him or Bucky.

“There’s still a fight,” someone said from behind them. Another magic shithead. Terror clutched at Sam’s chest like magic itself was enough to unmake him again, take him away again. “There’s still a world to save.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fanfic

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too-scared-to-do-this · 4 years ago

Text

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter four - Bloody hell!

Sander’s side fanfiction

Wordcount: 1304

Ships: still just prinxiety

TW: mentions of blood, cursing, injury, post-operations stuff talk kinda, imprisonment, a lot of panicking and distress - which kind off resembles an anxiety-attack but not really. I think I’ve got all. As always, if I missed anything, let me know, please. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter four - Bloody hell!

Not only does time not work in Hell, but apparently physics doesn’t either. Because no matter how Virgil looked at it, there was just no way this weird figure could’ve fallen straight onto him from the place he was situated at.

He was climbing the throne from the back. Reaching from the side. So please explain to him, how the hell was he able of falling fall over and landing directly on top of the king?

Either Hell was truly that massed up, or this person was just unconventionally clumsy.

Virgil didn’t have much time to ponder on it, though. He yelped and pushed the stranger off. Which resulted in poor Roman landing on his back on the hard ground. Broken stalagmites and new once that were just growing out pushed into his back, his head hitting a particularly sharp one.

Dull ache spread through his whole body. “Aw…” he groaned weakly, reaching for his head. Carefully trying to lift himself into a sitting position, the voices around him started to come back to him.

Someone on his right was barely breathing, short fast breaths not enough to satisfy their lungs. And someone on his left was laughing their ass off.

Roman frowned at the general direction of the laugh. This was not funny.

And why was everything so hazy? His vision was fogged and blurry and his hearing muffled and muted down. And oh god, his head!

He pulled his hand away. Even this out of focus, he could make out the big red splotch that covered his palm. Well, this is just great!

He had to get out of there before these things could lock him up, but the room was starting to spin and his eyes got kind off heavy… He just wanted to lay down… just for a little bit….

“Startup immediate! Let’s fucking eat him!”

Well at least that’s what Roman made out of what the creature on his right said. And that didn’t sound like the most pleasant thing. He didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. He had to get up! He had to run!

In reality, what Virgil said was: “Shut up, you idiot! They’re fucking bleeding!”

Panic seeping all the way to his bones he rushed over to the distressed stranger. This wasn’t good! He couldn’t leave them to just bleed out!

Remi paid his master’s stressed-out state no mind. He was too preoccupied leaning over, just barely standing - laughing so hard. “And?”

Virgil couldn’t believe this! “Remington! Go get the fucking healers!”

When Virgil got distressed and needed people to listen, his voice pitched down a few octaves and doubled over. Demons called it his Monster voice.

In this particular instance, the Monster voice was nothing compared to the way he roared at the servant.

He immediately shut up and ran off to find help.

The king was left alone with a very woozy, barely conscious and scared to death Roman. “Oh shit! Don’t die on me...! Please...!”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Could he touch the creature? Should he touch them? What if they have a broken rib or something?

They ended up just awkwardly hovering over the wounded figure.

Meanwhile, Roman didn’t even know what was going on. His mind was too foggy to comprehend anything. He just sat there, willing himself to think the one thought he needed to think.

But what was that thought again?

Some-Something about… running?

Yeah, yeah that…

He… he wanted to run. From what...?

Nobody seemed to be nearby… So why did he want to…

Wait, what did he want again…?

Oh, right. Sleep…

Virgil’s hand-hovering came to an end the moment the med-team stepped into the hall. “Your Majesty.” the demons all bowed.

“Stop bowing and get this Human to the med-bay! Immediately!”

“Yes sir.” the main healer nodded shortly and rushed over to the thief. The rest followed.

The devil let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and fall back against the throne. It was going to be okay now. His healers are the best in the under-world. They’ll take care of them.

He watched as they took the now unconscious figure away. Remi walked up to him, not-bothered as always. “I don’t see why we couldn’t just left it to bleed out.”

Virgil was too tired for this. His mind was going three miles per second and he just needed to calm down… He turned his cold gaze at the demon. “You’re a mind reader. Figure it out.”

That shut Remi up. No matter how much fun it would’ve been to see the Human suffer, hearing what ran through his king’s head wasn’t fun at all. He wasn’t about that. “I’ll be throwing down damned souls into the pit. If you need me, just call my name, babe. Byeeeee!!” And with a finger-wiggle wave, he left the room.

Virgil didn’t feel like getting up. The ground seemed comfortable enough for now. (There wasn’t much of a difference between it and the throne anyway.)

A Human being. A living, breathing, Human flashbang. He hasn’t seen a living specimen in… He doesn’t even know when was the last time one stood before him.

And now there was one in his med-bay. Antichrist, this was bad!

What is he even supposed to do with a creature like that? Besides torture, obviously. Sweet mother of evil!

The devil sat there, contemplating un-life until one of the healers walked into the hall.

“Your highness, the Human has been dealt with. We stopped the bleeding, and stitched up the wound best we could. It is still unconscious, though, so we locked it in one of the cells, temporarily.”

“Thank you, Lucius. Let me know when they wake up.”

“Yes, sir.” with that, the servant left. And Virgil finally climbed back on that uncomfortable throne. He pulled his phone out, and started scrolling through Tumblr once again. Things didn’t seem so boring anymore.

Roman came to a few hours later - not that he knew how much time had passed. What he knew though, was that he was in a dark cell guarded by two demons. Even through his hazy brain he could understand the situation he was in - he was a prisoner. ”Oh, holly mother Teresa!” he freaked, standing up and rushing over to the bars. Well, more like he stumbled...

“You have to let me out! Come on! You don’t understand! Let me out!” he gripped the cold stone bars.

One of the guards looked at him, then exchanged looks with the other. The second nodded and left, leaving Roman with a very angry looking demon.

He gulped. “Mr. Ehr, Miss- am… I… ah, please let me go…?”

The guard didn’t even glance at him.

Well, this was going well.

The second guard entered the throne hall and bowed down deep. Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’ve been telling you for thousands of years to stop bowing! It’s betting annoying.”

The demon straightened up immediately, nodding ashamed. “I apologize, your evilness.” Another eyeroll. These titles were getting better by the decade.

“What’s up, Derius?” he leaned on the arm-rests, razing his eyebrow.

“The prisoner woke up.”

Oh. Oh shit. Okay. Okay... “Are they okay?”

“It seems fine. IA bit out of it and scared, but that is to be expected. We did just imprison it in an environment completely different from his natural habitat…”

Virgil nodded, feeling his heartrate spike and slow again. They were all right.

Then an idea popped up in his head. Slowly, a grin pulled at his lips. Remi wanted fun, didn’t he?

Virgil could be fun. (Now that he knew nothing serious was happening with the Human.) Virgil could be very, very fun. He bit his lip and looked up at the guard.

“Bring me that thief.”

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Iiiiiiii can’t even believe it!

Another part, right the next day? I’m kicking this block’s ass, y’all! :D And look where we are! Remember that first anonymous comment that started all this?

But hey, I really hoped you enjoyed it. :3

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. If I have an answer I’ll gladly share it. And if I don’t, you just helped me come up with another addition to the story ;D

I’ll be back with a new chapter as soon as possible :)

(I wasn’t kidding when I said this was becoming my new hyper-fixation XD)

Bye, for now <3

Tag list:

@alice-only-me

#of the devil's head #demon/thief au #prinxiety #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remi #ts sleep #remi aka sleep #virgil sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #Sander's sides #tomas sanders #anxiety sanders #creativity sanders #Sander's sides fanfiction #what else should I tag?

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

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Dawn (6)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings:shhh!

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I don’t know how many of you read this but oh Lords of whatever forces there are in this world, the things I hear. The girl my brother broke up with is have a lot of trouble letting go of him. To the point that she is dragging him through the mud in front of his friends one second and then begging his friends to make him talk to her another. it’s a roller coaster he wants to get off and is more than happy to admit all his faults and apologise for them as long as he gets some space to heal in his own. But nooooo. *sigh* Times like these when I think I was lucky to not be in a relationship in school and college.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

Eyes closed. Candles lit. Incense burning. Body soaked.

Everything inside you wants to drown in this bliss after the nightmare. Everything does. The incense from the garden of healers is working its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream, latching onto that which does not belong there; forcing it to give up and be out of your system after eighteen hours. The cold water filled with the flowers from Yggdrasil to the brim is tingling every wound and bruise. Well, except the ones on your neck and around your shoulders.

It is relaxing. It should be relaxing. That is what your mind keeps running in a loop instead of enjoying the way Asgard is taking care of you right now. But the continuous throbbing of your brain for apparently no reason is not making anything work.

Why are you so on edge right now? Your inner voice would shake you till your brains feel off if it could.

I don’t know. Your heart keeps jumping now and then; that poor thing is not sure what it is running to or away from. I don’t know.

It is frustrating to keep looking at the night sky outside while unconsciously scratching your head for answers that it cannot give you. I don’t know.

“May I be of some help?”

The siren voice soaked completely in the purest honey in the world comes from the archway leading to your bedroom. Your body turns in the tub to watch the source, creating ripples where you sit. It is him, your heart says as Loki stands there, leaning on the wall in that black shirt and black pajamas.

Of course, it’s him, your inner voice lets out a tired sigh before going quiet for a minute only to come back with a whisper resonating inside your head, your husband.

“Hmm?” is all you can muster while trying to force this unforeseeable lump inside your throat down. Loki parts his lips and looks down at something on the floor. His feet are naked, that lump in your throat grows a little. Great observation, your inner voice replies with a hint of sarcasm. “You have been struggling with that itch for quite a while. How about I help you with that,” he breathes with a tilt of his head, and the candlelight hits the pupils just perfectly for you to see the glow in those gentle eyes.

It does take some time for your brain to process that you are not breathing. It takes a little longer to realise that he has been standing there watching you scratch your head like some wild animal for quite some time. Very smooth, Y/N.

“Uh, it’s fine. I’ll shampoo it and it’ll be aww-aahh-”

Your right arm disagrees the moment you try to lift it up. You weren’t even hit, you stupid limb!

Loki is already taking patient steps towards the tub while the embarrassment is heating up your body, and this wonderful cold water. “It never hurts to have a working hand,” he states and your brain instantly deep dives into the endless oceans for the lit-up notorious corners imagining what all those hands can do.

You scooch a little inside the tub. Can he read my thoughts? Oh, Gods, I hope not. While you are trying to hide the hot thoughts of your vibrating brain, your left hand is undoing the knot of your hair; a gesture that welcomes Loki to draw a stool behind you, grounding his feet on either side of the subsection of the tub storing water just for the purpose of washing those beaten up locks.

Cold hands gather those Y/H/C tresses and push them away from you and into the sink section of the tub. Those frosty fingers come back to gather whatever is left; brisking by your neck, teasing your shoulders, marking your forehead, tantalising your temples, taunting your ears. And you can do nothing but let the tiniest touch of his fingers fire up your nerve endings.

“Rest your head here,” his voice whispers. With that low pitch, your body is ready to do anything it asks of you. Anything.

You feel his hands steadily undoing the knots in your hair. Slow and patient with his movements, he has made sure he has got all of them before your ears hear him dunking something into the water and pouring the cold elixir on your head. His hand is steady; so is the trail of water that trickles down from your temples into your head, making its way through the marred strands, doing its best to take the muck down with it before another wave comes. And with every wave, Loki’s palm rests on your forehead to stop that water from going anywhere it is not supposed to; gently pressing back into your head, feeling like his palm is taking with it all the burdens and horrors of the night that are weighing upon your soul.

Once the weight is all in the wet tresses, Loki turns to grab the shampoo- that Sybll was kind enough to leave for you- but stops to reach for the concoction he uses. Taking a generous amount in his palms, he mixes enough drops of water for it to start forming a lather. Once he is satisfied, he comes for your hair, starting with your head, smearing the product in every nook and corner, around the ears and on the back of your neck. Once he feels he has covered everything, he gets ready to get to work, never even letting you sense the high you are about to ride.

The fingers dig past the hair to make contact with the scalp and start a symphony with the skin as they massage every micron of skin they touch. You can feel your eyes turn back into your head at the perfect pressure they are putting onto your mess of a head; pressing into the pain, hurt, anxiety, mixed feelings, and releasing them all with the release of these cold little magic wands. Every press and release is a gush of serotonin just washing all over your existence; every wiggle of those fingers is a newfound lightness you never thought you could feel. In the midst of floating in a clear blue ocean of release, you do not expect a moan to escape your parted lips. And just as it does, you feel your body falling headfirst, realising the cruelty of gravity and jerking awake just as your moan registers in your hypnotised brain cells. Your hands catch hold of the edge of the tub and the water ripples at the sudden jolt.

“Everything okay?” Loki’s voice comes from behind you just as his hands stop moving in your hair.

“Yeah-” you clear your throat and shush your heartbeat to slow down- “yes.”

Don’t stop, please.

Every single strand receives the love and care it deserves; to the point that they are sure to question if you actually ever cared for them. So tender are his movements that three questions run inside your mind.

The first question- how can someone so soft ever have the heart to hurt anyone? The past of your world speaks of evils this God had brought to earth. In fact, it speaks it louder than the time when the same God was the one to bring down the threats that would have ended your planet once and for all. We all have our reasons to be manipulated by the darkness at some point in our life. I am a living breathing example of one.

The second question- how utterly vivid your imagination had to be to imagine what those very tender movements of his hands feel like on your naked skin? The mystery that was his supple touch, chasing the goosebumps on your body. How enticing was the mere thought?

The third question…………what was the third question?

Washed with the same scrutiny as they were lathered, Loki pats the water off before leaving the room to give you privacy.

Clean and dried, you take one of the green bathrobes to wrap around yourself and walk out into the bedroom where Loki stands stirring something in a small bowl. “Oh,” you cannot keep the mild surprise in, mostly because every ounce of the insignificant has escaped your body now, “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“Not yet,” he answers quite seriously, his eyes on the bowl for a few more moments till they rise to look at you; and get stuck on you. You do not know what those eyes are seeing. Of course, you cannot comprehend the image- of something beautiful right out of a textbook- that you are for Loki in this slowed-down moment. The glowing delicacy shining still from the pollen of the flowers working on your skin, the wet hair strands teasing him of the closeness he has yet to feel; all of it wrapped up in green with one single knot. Oh, the prayers he feels coming out of him to be permitted to unravel that knot and bow down to worship you.

“What is that?”

Your voice brings him back to the bowl in his hand. He has to let his eyes adjust to the reality he stands in so as to come up with a reply in time. “It’s for your wounds. Here, sit down.”

You do. The copper bowl contains a muddy mixture with a pasty consistency. The handy mixer that seems smaller than it is in Loki’s long pale fingers is kept aside on the side table and his fingers dig themselves into the concoction. His eyes turn to you. “Your shoulders,” he requests. With the brilliance his pupils reflect, you can swear you would have given him your heart if he asked just as sweetly. And so you turn to the other side to sit with your robe slipped just above your chest, giving him all the exposed wounds the water could not get to as much.

The fresh red bruises along with the open scars marred from Torbarik’s bad etiquettes sink Loki’s heart a little. Now, he wishes he had ended his life with his own hands. It itches his chest deep inside to know how much it must be hurting you right now; given your inability to heal as fast as the Asgardians or frost giants.

“Thank you, Loki-” you bring him out of the slow train of overthinking misery is about to step on inside his head- “for coming for me.”

Loki’s fingers tenderly dab the paste over the wounds, instantly bringing a soothing cold fire over the cuts. “You are my wife, love. You should expect anything less than coming to your aid from me.”

You are my wife, love.

Your throat can visibly be seen sucking in as much air as it can to make sure you heard him right. Once your mind settles that this is in fact what Loki just declared, your brain cannot help but run those soothing words in a loop inside your head till they seep into every cell in your body, making that truth a part of your existence. And soon enough, parts of you are getting heated from the sudden confession. Your cheeks and the back of your neck are doing a really bad job of hiding the flush from his words. And on top of that, those fingers are doing one hell of a job, soothingly rubbing themselves on your shoulders and neck.

“Just two minutes and then it will dry and fall off. The wounds will close but the bruises will take some time to go away as per my observation.”

He has barely finished the sentence and you are already shifting in your place to turn and face him. He can see you have something on your mind that you want to speak and so, he puts away everything and sits there patiently for you to take your time to gather your words.

“Loki-” he darts a quick look to your nails digging into your knees- “you don’t...you don’t have to do...umm…-” your voice lowers to a whisper- “how do I put this-” you straighten your back and close your hands into a fist before looking him into those beautiful hypnotising eyes- “you don’t have to do anything you don’t really...feel. What you do not want to...do? Uhh...it’s just that...okay. Ahem. Because I am...I...oh my God-”

“I like you too.”

The white noise humming through your eyes feels like you have lost your ability to hear. The sudden roller coaster rush that your heart feels makes it want to save you from whatever height you are falling right now. You do not see it but the mere dilation of those starry y/e/c eyes at those words washes away any doubts Loki has of you not reciprocating his feelings. The fresh flush of heat emanating from your cheeks and the surprise-filled blink adds to the euphoria. “...you do?” you hushed voice cannot rise beyond this or you might start crying.

His smile is the response. The love in filling his eyes to the brim; something you have never seen before, not even for Thor. His hand moves to let his fingers caress your cheek. And oh! The cold touch of the back of his fingers with your hot cheeks is nothing short of the blessed fountain satiating the thirst of a traveller looking for eternal youth. Your eyes close on his touch, your head tilting, giving into his brush. “I have always liked you, Y/N,” Loki asserts softly, his hand embracing you while his thumb grazed your cheek, “today you just resonated my feelings and made me fall in love with you.”

Your hand rises to engulf his into yours. Like a heavyweight lifted from your chest, you feel your body breathe again. Your foreheads meet, exchanging what feels like a lifetime of unspoken feelings. They were there for quite a while; it just took them a brush with danger to surface and show their colours- their strength and their weakness- all in one night.

This is the first time you are so close to him, being able to witness all the perfection that is Loki, the God, the strategist, the Silvertongue. Yours. All yours. His lips parted, his cold breath a verse teasing your lips. His dark lush eyelashes heavy with a newfound need, hiding it in those eyes gone dark. His tongue licking his lips, waiting for your approval even though you are right in his reach. Your fingers, with a mind of their own, touch his chin, wanting to travel to his lips, feel them, want them. The craving is making your stomach turn, your breaths shallow and length apart till it is unbearable. You close that inch of space to let your love-deprived lips land on his, hesitant at the gesture. But Loki welcomes it. The first sweet kiss bursting lights inside the both of you. And with the first, the urge for the second grows. His tongue tastes your lips, and you let it enter; you let it discover every edge needy for his touch. Your tongue plays with his, lets him know how much you want it; how much you want him. So do your hands. Running over his chest, they find their way to his neck and hair. His, on the other hand, draw you closer to him- one by the waist, the other supporting your neck- carefully so as not to hurt your still-healing wounds- while pulling you further into him.

There is a mellifluous clash of your bodies that night, hands discovering each other, heat siphoned by the cold, love pouring in tender kisses over the bare skin, fingers entangled in hairs, pleading for more. Hips crashing into each other like lazy tides under the pleasant moonlight on a deserted shore, moans filling the ears, satiating the hunger of giving the satisfaction to their lover, breaths both hot and cold creating such wondrous mist in the midst of that steaming love-making. The fulfilling rise to the high, the tides reaching the rocky shores, wanting more to come crashing with thunderous vibrations. And thunderous they are, making you see rainbows in the back of your head. The best part is that love does not stop at discovering the bodies. It continues, with the willingness to take care of you, with pulling the duvet over your body and gathering you in his surprisingly strong arms, with that sweet longing and deep kiss on your forehead, and then your nose and then your lips, telling you that he is yours. All yours. For eternity.

“What’s happening? Sybll handed me the sparkliest dress in whatever wardrobe this appeared from and said it was urgent. Is this another one of Odin’s tradition things?”

Loki is already walking towards you as fast as he can. And while he does, you notice a blue bruise on his neck which you are pretty you did not mark him with. We were so gentle! I couldn’t have. Could I?

“What’s that on your neck?” you cannot help yourself.

“Yes,” Loki nods, “this is-”

“Y/N,” Thor calls for you from the halls, “you are here. Look who is here to meet you!”

Your eyes are wide and already turning to Loki for answers, who is drawing in a loooong breath. “Yes, this is what I was talking about. The bruise is also for...this. Come on, let’s go meet your self-declared father.”

You don’t even have to guess who Loki is talking about, for that very moment you enter the great hall, Tony walking with his arms open to embrace you.

“How are you doing, kid? These Asgardians treating you well?”

His hug is more than welcome and you throw yourself into it. Oh, and he smells like home. Tom Ford cologne and Quinnjet- just like you remember. “Tony, it is so good to see you.” Your lips cannot stop smiling and the smile turns even wider on seeing Rhodey and Carol standing behind him.

Rhodey’s bear hug still has the same power to cure your homesickness while Carol’s embrace just tells you she is here for you now and whenever.

“Loki.”

“Stark.”

They still greet each other the same way- a simple nod and...that’s it. Same goes for Rhodey. Carol, on the other hand, has a special fistbump for her partner in galactic crimes of justice. “You still owe me one artefact from your vault, Loco,” Carol mentions, making Loki chortle.

“You still owe me a decent fight.”

“Bullshit. I cleaned the floor with your face last time, you trickster.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot hear you over the sound of my undefeated title.”

“Oh, okay okay okay. It’s on, Loki boy. It is on!”

“Before anything is on,” you interrupt, “how about we go have a drink. Or two.”

“Yes, I love that,” Thor smacks you in the back, forcing you to swallow the grunt politely as you lead the way.

Asgards finest wine and beer are being served and you cannot help but notice Thor eyeing you and Loki with certain veiled judgement while conversations are made around the table. You let it slide, hoping it’s Tony being Tony.

“Isn’t that right, Stark,” Thor laughs and looks at him.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Tony replies with disinterest, his eyes stuck on you, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I have to ask. What is that bruise on your neck?”

The whole table goes silent. Loki’s drink is paused right by his lips while Carol sips hers with peak interest while shifting her curious gaze between Loki and you.

“It’s nothing,” you respond lightly with a shake of your head, wanting the conversation to go back to whatever it was.

“We tried to get the same tattoos,” Loki adds, “it did not work so I removed it in my Asgardian ways. The bruises are nothing. They’ll vanish within two more days.”

You nod a liiiittle vigorously in agreement, making Tony narrow his eyes in suspicion. “I don’t buy it. Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. I need to know that you are safe.”

Thor looks at the two of you. You know it will be difficult to make Tony understand your safety concerns. Even if you are safe here now, he will see it as nothing else but an excuse to take you away from here. And even take Loki with you if that’s what it takes. Or worse, he might actually start a war with the enemies here. You know of at least five people who would agree to this and stand on the front lines of that very fight.

“Tony it’s nothing,” you try to convince him.

“Y/N. What. Happened.”

Thor is about to open his mouth when you do the most outrageous thing you could think of.

“Loki and I tried some stuff, okay!” you nearly yell.

At this point, everyone is looking at you with more questions in their eyes. Even Loki.

“We experimented with BDSM,” you finally blurt out, keeping your head high, “and I liked it.”

Silence.

Carol’s silence is a victorious one; like she was waiting to hear this. Rhodey’s is more uncomfortable and you know he just wants to get up and go from there before hearing any more details about this. Loki’s silence is on the lines of appreciative surprise towards you. He is impressed. And at the same time getting some ideas.

And Tony?

His beer glass shatters in his hand. That pretty much answers it.

“W-what is beady-essum?” Thor is the only one sitting there in confusion while Carol is the only soul who guffaws through the thrilling silence.

“YESSS! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE SMUSHING BOOTIES!!”

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geniusinventora · 4 years ago

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THIS IS A SHORT VERSION BUT I’M LIKE DYING

I honestly do plan on making a more in depth (yes I do mean more in deoth this is all surface level) post about this, but I cannot work cause my head is empty and only focusing on this so I might as well share.

One of my biggest things about Gyro is that he does not, in fact, WANT to be Dad shaped. He knows he’s not fit for it. He understands that he is not a suitable role model for any of the kids- yes Boyd included. He already has a lot of issues involving parents. He doesn’t want to have any child that he even remotely sees as one that he likes end up like he does. It’s why he takes a lot of precautions about people, especially the kids getting close to him. In the show, he clearly never learns their names and doesn’t make an effort to. It’s purposeful. He could completely learn Scrooge’s great-nephew’s names. He knows their personalities and colors. Their outfits. The lies they tell. No, he does it on purpose to create a distance. Some verses that works, other it doesn’t. I’m focusing on the show/prime canon.

Boyd is an entirely other topic. ENTIRELY different topic. While yes, his actions and reactions to Boyd in Astroboyd were not appropriate nor good for Boyd, I personally cannot hold that against him. I know people don’t comb through every line like I do, and especially like I did with Gyro. It say this as a joke a lot, but I genuinely did predict the core and a lot of details of Astroboyd long before it came out. I paid attention to facial expressions, words, and mannerisms Gyro had around his inventions and specifically the one that we see with an AI- Lil Bulb. I GENUINELY did figure out that SOMETHING happened to Gyro before he worked for Scrooge. At the time, I had always headcanoned it as FOWL. When Frank said that was not the case, I had to re-evaluate. However, what I did not have to do is take his advice. I didn’t need to go back and look at the episodes. I knew them too well.

Gyro had been dealing with the guilt, memories, and mental scars that Tokyolk gave him for 20 YEARS. He built 2BO with, whom he had trusted at the time, Akita to be a defense droid. The idea was for it to be the defender of the city. A protector. Imagine looking up to a firefighter, or am ambulance driver, or a super hero for gods sake. Imagine meeting a hero, a savior. Someone you are putting your full hope and trust in.

NOW IMAGINE THEM DESTROYING THE CITY.

Gyro had no idea the World Breaker code was in there. He was just aware that the creation he built from scratch, that he put his heart and soul into just destroyed the city. It caused several injuries, definitely more. 2BO had turned evil. FROM HIS PERSPECTIVE, THAT IS THE ONLY CONCLUSION YOU CAN COME TO WITH THAT. Of course he doesn’t want to listen to Huey, a child who couldn’t comprehend he has only EVER seen that mistake in anything he made after Boyd. Look at how he talks to Boyd, and treats Boyd in that episode, then go watch the Great Time Chase. He clearly was reliving Tokyolk with Lil Bulb going off the rails. Gyro most DEFINITELY was not over it. He lived with that for 20 years. Like I said, I cannot forgive Gyro for treating Boyd how he did for a day- but that was a day. Gyro had been beating himself up far more for over 20 years, with absolutely no one there to help him while Boyd had Huey.

Speaking of the kids though, Della was THROWN into the motherhood role. Motherhood is FAR different in reality than what it is through ideas and beliefs. Della going on the SOS was ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT TRIP. She made that CLEAR. The story tellers made is CLEAR. SHE WAS NEVER INTENDING TO LEAVE. It was UNFORTUNATE what happened, but to even remotely hold Della to the idea that she was intending on leaving the kids is ridiculous. Was she reckless? Yes. Was anyone expecting that she WOULDNT COME BACK? NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Not only that, but she was having to deal with SO MUCH that she COULD NOT HEALTHILY PUT THE CHILDREN FIRST when she returned. She had been nearly isolated for practically 10 years. She had NO contact with anyone, or anything. Not only that, but she had been slowly losing help. Not only would be most definitely dealing with PHYSICAL issues, she also would have had to deal with MENTAL issues as well. It would have been better if we saw moments of her growing more, but at the end of the day? This is a series about ducks for kids. Like, trust me I hate it when people say that but this was a childrens show. Kids don’t ALWAYS want long story. That’s fine! That’s fine and dandy. The beauty of Ducktales is that they recognized that their audience was ALSO fans who WANTED things like that.

When it comes to the end of the day- there was no way Della WOULD have been a good parent showing up. However, with my experience with kids both in school and in my life- If they know you’re trying, they are surprisingly understanding. Children NEED a figure to look up to in order to develop. It’s a natural instinct that kids have to have SOMEONE, because at the end of the day, they do need someone to protect them. While Della had to work for her role, she had to catch up on 11 years of learning how to be a parent. Learning the balance between encouraging and reckless, between loving and overbearing, between a mother and a friend. It’s a fine line, and one that very few parents are really able to walk well.

And while we cannot see development on SCREEN? You can clearly infer SO MUCH from lines about, around, and said by Della herself. She had to learn to be a mom, just like the kids had to learn how to HAVE a mom. I’m not saying that Della was perfect. By all means I know she wasn’t.

What I’m trying to say is to expect adults in this show when they themselves have been built dynamically and complexly is ridiculous, especially if you don’t put in thought about their point of views. Gyro is a hesitant man who is dealing with things that went wrong, and the INSTANT he learned he was wrong? He changed his tune. He INSTANTLY was telling 2BO that HE COULD CHOOSE HIS PROGRAMING. He was faced with the truth, not with what he had perceived and believed as true from his own perspective for 20 years.

For Della, she CLEARLY is trying. She tries to find common ground with every child of hers, and even with lost family. The other adults are ALSO clearly helping both parties with the sides. She will make mistakes, but its clear anytime Della is how TRANSPARENT she is with her remorse and how she will instantly strive to be better and PROVE herself to her family. She doesn’t just accept that she’s not suit for the job. She works, she changes, and she fixes herself and behavior to be better. She finds things in common, she encourages her kids in their activities, she makes sure they’re all okay, and she protects them. She does whatever she can to be a parent to them.

I’ll write more on Gyro later, specifically. I just... I needed to talk about my thoughts.

#» » 〈《 meta 〃 general 》〉#» » 〈《 blog canon 〃 general 》〉#» » 〈《 headcanon 〃 general 》〉#honestly gyro is a fantastic parent imo but he doesnt see himself as one #nor does he really try to seem to fit that mold but there are so many things that he does #that point that he does care #and that he always has #and ill talk about them more later #for now i have to learn about how my works network works and how to use a program

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xellandria · 4 years ago

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Zmija Yilan was a temporary character I played towards the end of our Tomb of Annihilation campaign after my boy Alexus got petrified by a beholder somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb itself. We were able to “salvage” both him and Amara (who had also gotten petrified in the same fight) by shoving them into the Bag of Holding, but short of having the two of us sit on the bench while the remaining two party members waddled back to town, we had to roll some new characters.

I spent most of the week between the petrification and the new characters appearing being mad at myself for not remembering I had Inspiration I could have used to reroll either of my failed dex saves and not being able to do much beyond that, but with less than 72 hours left until she had to debut, I finally pulled an idea out of my butt, ran it by the DM because it involved Shenanigans™, got the OK and started designing her. Thus was born Zmija Yilan, whose appearance was based partly on an old photo that was semi-viral on Tumblr several years prior and partly on Xelloss from Slayers because when I’m in a pinch, that’s always who I fall back on, and have been doing so for like, 20+ years at this point lmao. Personality-wise, there was a post floating around Tumblr that week about proverbs in various languages that, when translated literally or without context, made very little sense so she got a lot of that (and associated misunderstandings based on language mix-ups) mixed in with—again—Xelloss from Slayers, because I am a hack. I would probably never play her again because she was so firmly entrenched in that campaign and also there’s some parts of how I designed/played her that I look back on and am like “ehhh I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the optics of this,” but I enjoyed playing her a lot more than I expected, and I look back on the end of our Tomb campaign very fondly because of it.

I haven’t been able to talk about her in public both for a lack of reason to do so and because I didn’t want to “spoil” my group in case they found my various social media posts, but as it’s nearly a year since she was introduced and nine months since the campaign ended, I’m gonna absolutely wall of text the shit outta this bitch, rofl (that said there’s baby’s first nekkid pin-up under here so assuming Tumblr lets me actually post it, fair warning for that under the cut)

Zmija Yilan - level 8-10 Human* Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Tome) (usually this is where my D&D character posts put stats but I don’t actually have access to her character sheet anymore, so let’s just pretend she had something ridiculous like maxed Charisma because I remember my spell DC being ridiculously high)

Zmija Yilan is a traveler from the far-off land of Zemlya, and a disciple of Matrymriy, one of the "family" of five gods in the pantheon of that region. Matrymriy came to Zmija in a dream one night and told her to travel across the seas because She had a task for her, and that she would learn more once she reached her destination. She's been traveling around Faerun for seven or so years—reaching one place, being given hints to go to a specific location, and upon reaching it, being told to travel on without seeming to do much more than just Be There. Upon reaching Chult sometime within the last few months, her patron's hints indicated that she should travel to a place called Shilku Bay; she hired a guide (named Salida) and a bodyguard (a Fort Belurian mook) with what little locally-acceptable currency she had; they got separated after being attacked by a band of undead, and after failing to reunite with them, she was wandering around lost, trusting that Matrymriy will guide her where She desires her to go.

Part of her wandering had her end up in the Tomb of the Nine Gods itself, where she encountered our adventuring party (down two player characters) desperately trying to find their way out of the tomb in the hopes of returning to Port Nyanzaru to depetrify their friends. Our barbarian’s player immediately distrusted her because I’d drawn her tabletop token with her back to the camera, which was an awkward feeling almost immediately returned in-game because both the barbarian and paladin aren’t hardcore RPers but they had to carry all the RP weight as they were introduced to this new character and explain that they were there to destroy a lich (both because it was the source of all the bad undead in the area, and because they’d been promised a reward—a motivation Zmija understood, as “a hungry bear will not dance.”) Beyond the usual RP awkwardness there was an additional layer of awkwardness between the characters IC as at the time, Thokk was barely wearing more than a breastplate and loincloth, while Zmija was covered neck-to-ankle despite the heat and humidity of the region. She claimed that in the culture of Zemlya, having strangers see your skin was a mark of great shame and that modesty was of paramount importance, so seeing so much of him was very off-putting and threw her off-balance for much of their initial interactions.

Getting off on the “wrong” foot with the party and pushing as hard as I could into Zmija’s quirks (the weird proverbs, sprinkling in her Zemlyan vocabulary and making a point of her being from Very Far Away with Very Different Customs) meant I went a little too hard on them at the beginning, which is partly what I’d do differently and partly why the whole thing ended up working, so it’s a weird retrospective balance. If my partymates had ever shoved (almost) any of the names or places Zmija mentioned into google, they probably would have twigged to the scheme pretty dang fast.

In reality, Zmija is not a human traveler from Zemlya, because surprise! she's actually Zsaksatyi, a Chultian Yuan-Ti Pureblood under the command of Fenthaza. She worked as a bit of a double agent/interrogator within the Fane prior to her current assignment (hence her spell list's focus on information gathering, silent communication, and manipulation); she's been fleshing out her alternate persona for years and would occasionally pretend to be a captive and be thrown in one of those cells the party was in to get relevant information from the other prisoners, or assist others that were interrogating prisoners by more direct means (via Detect Thoughts). In-universe, the language she pretends to speak is mostly made up, and something she's been working on for years at this point—it's not a fully-fleshed conlang and she only has a couple hundred words and phrases but it's enough to be consistent and believable when she sprinkles it into regular speech. Since there's no real risk of running into anyone else from Zemlya (because it doesn't actually exist), it mostly didn't matter, and since there's actual meaning behind the words she does have, in theory it would have held up to a spell like Comprehend Languages as well. Out of universe, the language she speaks is an amalgamation of my own conlang stuff (which, like the in-universe version, is very limited and not complete) and various words and phrases pulled mostly from real-world Slavic languages (russian, croatian, hungarian, etc) with a little bit of Turkish thrown in when my English-only ear felt that it fit or when I had already used a word and needed another word for the same thing. Zsaksatyi (pronounced dzahk sot-YEE) is the only name/word in the whole mess that doesn’t actually mean something somewhere, and was a combination of syllables from an online Yuan-Ti name generator that I kinda liked together. If she had ever been outed, I would probably have come up with something a little less cumbersome for me and my (almost certainly wholly monolingual) D&D group to say... but she didn’t, so Zsaksatyi it stays!

She very much looks up to Fenthaza and almost idolizes and worships her—if she ever had to choose between Fenthaza or Dendar, things might have gotten a little bit rough for her (possibly no matter which way she ultimately jumped, though I imagine Dendar's vengeance would be more immediate, if Dendar's a hands-on sort of patron). Thankfully (for her), there was very little risk of that given that the party had left Fenthaza on reasonably neutral terms (having already helped her oust Ras Nsi from his position of power in the Fane and the party having essentially marked that dungeon as “cleared”). Fenthaza had sent her to scout the Tomb of the Nine Gods and locate (or steal) an artifact known as the Black Opal Crown, which will allow the Night Mother to emerge into the world. The group actually came across the crown pretty soon after Zmija (and our other new character, a firbolg druid named Mei Ren who replaced our cleric, Amara) joined them, but the party couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the room it was in and Zsaksatyi was content that it would be safe from both our group and other adventurers there while she found her way back to the Fane (though she Sent the location to Fenthaza in case she wasn’t able to make it back). That was actually like, halfway through the session right after she’d been introduced so having her sneak off that fast would have been absolutely wild, so I kept playing her as Zmija and while there were myriad opportunities for her to be discovered—including a hallway where any non-magical non-living thing got evaporated, up to and including clothing—she never was. The fact that the only spells she ever used spell slots on were Hex, Counterspell, and Identify never really got commented upon, because prior to her joining the party we didn’t have a source for any sort of utility magic and we’d been feeling the lack for a while. She was a lot of fun to play just as Zmija once I got the hang of her, but the hidden agenda that only our DM & I knew about was an extra layer of fun, too. It would have been neat to see how the party reacted to a reveal, but unless Jim wants to take us back to Chult to actually deal with the Night Mother’s return (because without having to keep up appearances and alignments, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that crown out of there even before the weird teleport-defying magic of the Tomb got turned off), her story is over for us—taking her outside of the setting she was designed for would be weird... plus we already have two warlocks (well, one and a half) in a party of four PCs; adding a third would be a little bit bizarre, I think.

Her more Yuan-ti features include scales down her spine and across her shoulderblades, on the backs of her hands, and on her hips and thighs—mostly in reds, oranges, and browns, but as she increases in power and connection with the Night Mother, more of them are darkening to Her blue-black; it started right at that spot between the shoulderblades where you always picture being stabbed in the back, and has expanded from there; I imagine by level 20 all of her scales would be that blue-black and may have encroached further on the more human-y leather bits, probably encroaching on her face at the last, which would make being a spy a lot more difficult (even moreso than wearing as much clothing as she already does) but I guess at level 20, do you really need to be sneaking around pretending to be human?

In direct sunlight or other very bright light, her pupils constrict to slits, which is the real reason for her heavy eye makeup—between the distraction of it and the (somewhat exaggerated) squinting that such light induces, it often goes unnoticed, as it did with her character portrait (although to be fair to my party, Alexus also has slit eyes because that’s one of the traits of elves and half elves in D&D, and also I’m not sure if they ever saw her portrait any larger than 150x150 or whatever Roll20 shows them at). Both her top and bottom canine teeth are sharper, longer, and narrower than is typical for humans, and she is careful not to grin too widely and will cover her mouth when she laughs or yawns, whether she is in disguise or not. That part I’ve never drawn though, so I can’t really point to that as something the party overlooked, heh. In hindsight, I wish I'd given her more/heavier snake features but even the official art for Yuan-Ti player characters are very light on them and getting around the differences between human and yuan-ti racials without tipping off the party was hard enough as it was—I took the 120 feet of magic-ignoring darkvision invocation to disguise the fact that she innately had darkvision, I never used my racial spells and abilities unless I was willing to “use” a spell slot on them and had another plausible way to have obtained them, the one time I got hit with a poison ability (which she was immune to) I spent a lot of time “figuring out the math” on how much HP I had to drop, etc. I also wish I’d given her darker skin, as she is supposed to be Chultian but she is significantly lighter than all the NPCs we came across. Then again, I’m as white as a sheet soaked in bleach so there’s something weird about me RPing folks of colour regardless (especially given her fake backstory, agh agh agh) so yeah. Really enjoyed her, don’t regret her, will not ever play her again rofl

In our very last session of Tomb of Annhiliation, the party—fresh off the victory over the big bad lich whose name I can never spell and his weird world-eating fetus—headed back to Port Nyanzaru via the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which the previous variant of the party (of whom only Thokk remained alive and mobile enough to talk to them) had helped out significantly earlier in the campaign, unlocking a flying ritual that we were like “man we’re not coming back here if we’re gonna use it we gotta do it now” to get us the rest of the way to the port. En route, Zmija tried to leave the group and rolled a secret 15 Stealth roll... contested by 17 and 18 perception rolls from Mei Ren and Thokk, but as she wasn’t carrying much of the party’s stuff and it was the end of the campaign, they kinda just let her give some line about seeing them again in the future maybe, the Mother’s will is unknowable, etc etc. I think if Duf and Kattii didn’t know that I wanted Alexus back as badly as I did and that we were like twenty minutes (real time) away from actually getting him back, they might have considered that more suspicious than they did.

Pronunciations (and translations): (mostly C&Ped from her bio, which is the only part of her character sheet I can still access on Roll20)

Zmija Yilan: zMEE-ah yee-LAHN. Because I'm subtle as hell, that's Croatian/Russian/Ukranian (first name) and Turkish (last name) for "snake/serpent," according to the internet. What do you mean Remus Lupin is a werewolf?!

Matrymriy: mah-tRRuh mRREE (Rs are rolled). Matrymriy is Zmija's claimed patron—one of five major Zemlyashan dieties—but she'll state that she doesn't know the name that she goes by in the local dialect. That's only partly true, of course—мати мрій is Ukranian for "Mother of Dreams" (at least according to google translate), which is close enough to her patron's actual names and titles (Dendar, the Night Mother) that she can get away with it without actually raising suspicions about the true source of her powers. She'll also do that thing where if someone tries to say the name back to her she'll "correct" them by saying it exactly the same four or five times and then "give up" and accept whatever "butchered" version the speaker comes up with, except she'll do it even if they're actually saying it perfectly correctly. She may do this with her own name as well (sorry, Jim. And Duf. And Dustin. And Kattii. And Kattii's coworker, if he ever joins us and I'm still playing this character by then, lmao.) (2021 addition: and literally everyone who has a name that isn’t typically pronounced by us English-only plebians, I am so sorry I’m not better at your language)

Zsaksatyi: dzahk sot-YEE. Zmija's real name, when she isn't pretending to be a human. That doesn't mean anything as far as I know, it was just a combination of some of the syllables the random Yuan-Ti name generator was coming up with that I liked (which is also where "Itszella" was from), lol. I may end up changing it to be less cumbersome at some point, unless it comes up before then and ends up written in stone, but I'm on a bit of a time crunch for the moment.

Zemlya: zem-lyah. If pressed for more detail on where in Zemlya she's from (e.g. by someone pretending to know details about her country), her home town is Fal'shyva (fall-sheh-VAH), southeast of the capital of Hayali (HI-yah-LEE) and just north of the port city of Farazi (fah-ra-DZI), which is where she originally sailed from seven years ago. фальшива земля is Ukranian for "fake land," Hayali is Turkish for "imaginary," and Farazi is Turkish for "hypothetical," lol.

Proverbs & (approximate) Pronounciations: (if I recall correctly, asterisks indicate ones I had used, so I didn’t repeat myself too frequently)

Wziąć się w garść (zvun shih garsch): lit. take the self into the fist (polish), pull yourself together Галопом по Zemlya (gal-OH-pohm poe zem-lyah): lit. galloping across Zemlya (russian), to be hasty/haphazard. * У кого немає собаки, полює з котом (Ooh koe-hoe meh-MIGH-eh soe-BAH-kay, poe-LOO-yay koh-tome): lit. who does not have dog, hunts with cat (ukranian, original proverb is portugese), make do with what you have. Z choinki się urwałaś? (dzi hoink-E she urr-vahl-wash): lit. did you fall from a Candlenights(aka Christmas) tree? (polish), you are obviously not well-informed; are you dumb? * Mi o vuku (MEE oh voo-koo): lit. to talk of the wolf (croatian), speak of the devil. * Thalai muzhuguthal (tha-LIE MOOz-GOO-thal): lit. pour water over someone's head (tamil), cut off a relationship. * Хоть кол на голове теши (coat-coal nah gohl-ehvee teh-SHEE): lit. you can sharpen an axe on this head (russian), a very stubborn person.

Other Languages Are Hard Today, Let’s Just Proverb It In English:

Cat's Forehead (japanese): a tiny space, usually used humbly to refer to owned land. It fell between chairs (swedish): group work that everyone assumed someone else would do, and didn't get done as a result * It gives me a beautiful leg (french): fat lot of good that'll do me Drown the fish (french): avoid a subject by talking about anything and everything else, confuse the issue In a river with piranhas, the alligator swims backstroke (brazil): protect your weaknesses * Accusation always follows the cat (iraqi): it's easy to blame someone who can't defend themselves The honey only sticks to the mustache of he who licked it (arabic): he who smelt it, dealt it * A hungry bear does not dance (greek): the reward must be worth the cost (or at least exist) * The crayfish sides with the crab (korean): people who have a lot in common stay friends * If you can't live longer, live deeper (italian): get the most of your time * A spoon does not know the taste of soup (welsh): intelligence is not wisdom Examine what is said, not who speaks (arab): don't take things at face value * Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you (new zealand): have a positive outlook He who does not travel, does not know the value of men (moorish): wide experience is gr8 Do good and throw it in the sea (arab): don't expect anything back from kindness * Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is halved (swedish): friends make things better If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together (african): strength in numbers, speed on your own.

#xellart #dungeons and dragons #original characters #zmija yilan

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overtureofchaos · 4 years ago

Text

When Things Change

I was asked by several people to post this one shot on Tumblr. It is also on my Wattpad profile. This is my first attempt at a Y/N one shot, so I hope you enjoy it.

Plot: You and Carisi have been roommates for years, but after a near-death experience, everything changes.

Starts after the events of 18x7

Content: sex, violence, mentions of rape. All mild.

As you stood looking down at the pregnancy test, your stomach flipped more that you thought it ever could. Throwing up in the morning was one thing but this was where the rubber hit the road. It was not just some bug; you had a baby in you. His baby. You could ask yourself how it happened but at the end of the day you knew full well how it happened. Though you and your roommate had long been friends with benefits, mostly on bad nights or heavy cases or around test days, Sonny had already passed the bar so for him the super stressful school days were over. For you though, you were still plugging along trying hard to get your nursing degree. Thankfully you were in clinicals now, but the days were long and sometimes unforgiving. Back when he was still in school you two would have long nights studying and grilling each other. Sometimes those nights would end with a romp but Sonny always used a condom. Not the last time though. Something shifted that day. Not that you two were in love or anything like that, but something in his attitude and mentality.

The day had been normal for you. School, and the afternoon at the coffee shop. That didn’t pay much and with reduced hours, there was a need for more money. You could not let Sonny pay for everything so you took on a side gig in the evenings that seemed easy enough. Before the night in question, Sonny told you about this case where one of the possible witnesses was a professional cuddler. It sounded so ludacris but you kept thinking to yourself it was definitely something you could do and you found her services online, went for an interview and was hired. The job paid well and currently did not have any negative effects on your life. The extra money was nice and because Sonny was always so busy at work he never questioned where your money for bills was coming from. You were not doing anything illegal or even explicit.

Sometimes his days were very long and he would come back tired or cranky or not in the mood to even conversate. That seemed to be more often than usual now. He’d expressed early on a crush on his partner, which was fine because even though the two of you had sex you were not in any way romantically involved. There was no heart in it, just bodies - just sex. He’d had some god-awful cases over the past year or so - someone on his squad died, they’d chased two different serial killers, a cold case serial rapist… the work he did was terrifying but no matter what you two remained the best of friends and could always lean on each other if you just needed to vent.

That particular night, he came in later in the afternoon. Hearing the door, you yelled out but no one responded so you got a little freaked. “Sonny? That better be you!” Nothing. Poking your head out from your room slowly to access the situation you saw your closest friends ever standing in the living room nearly catatonic. How he got home was beyond you. There was blood on his face and in his hairline. Slowly you approached with your hands up and out just in case he wasn’t really connected to reality. Knowing his job was dangerous was something you had long ago settled with. He ran the risk everyday of getting hurt or killed but he loved his job and he was great at it. You could do nothing but respect him for the risks he took day to day to keep both you and the city safe. The closer you got you could see there was blood on his shirt and tie and right on him there was something in his hair. Being a nursing student that had considered working in an ER you recognized the mass as brain matter.

Your expression dropped away. “Holy shit, Sonny. What happened to you?” He did not answer you. Slowly you eased him onto the coffee table. Normally you would yell at him for sitting on the coffee table but all the years you two had lived together you knew his favorite places to sit were tables. Easily three times a week you would snap at him about the perfectly good sofa he could be resting his ass on. He would just smirk like a dick and stay on the table. Or he would stand and thrust his hands into his pockets. The man was happier about pockets than any woman ever could be. He’d flaunt them like nothing else. Unsure what to do you knew he would have been checked out at the scene of whatever happened; surely this was work related. Either way you went to the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a rag to clean him up. He just sat there staring out the window not responding to anything you were doing. He did, however, let you lead him.

After cleaning his face up, you walked him to his bedroom and started removing his clothes. To hopefully arouse some interest in his current situation, with every button you spoke out what you were doing and rare as it was, you were thankful he was not wearing a three-piece today of all days. You made him sit on the bed and removed his shoes and shimmied him out of his slacks and gently forced him back on the bed. He still had not said a single word. Because you’d lived together for years, you did have the numbers of everyone in his unit and thought very seriously about reaching out to his lieutenant, but if this was not work related you didn’t want to get him in trouble. Sonny would need to tell you what to do. He just laid there, so you left him and took his clothing to clean out any blood and hopefully salvage the shirt and tie. About an hour passed before you decided to check back on him. He had not moved an inch.

The only thing you could think to do was give him some human interaction. Your newly discovered cuddling skills came into play so you stripped down to your tank and undies - to match his attire - and crawled onto the bed in front of him, letting him be the big spoon. It was a good thing no one was working that night because you fell asleep to the sound of his breath steadying on your neck. About maybe four in the morning, you finally felt him stir. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer and before long he was rolling you toward him so he could see your face. He hesitated but finally spoke, choking a little on his words, they were rife with emotions.

“Y/N, thank you. You didn’t have to do all that. I mean, I appreciate all of it.”

Clearly he comprehended what you had done for him so it was nice to see he hadn’t had a complete mental break. “Sonny, what happened?” You whispered softly, cupping his cheek. “You had blood on you and, uh, brain?” How do you say that without setting him off again, but the two of you have always been able to speak candidly with each other.

“We had to go to Jersey. This cop had kidnapped a girl and we knew he had her but it was just Lieu and I. I found her in the house but he was in there too and he, uh, he put a gun right to my head. I thought he was going to kill me, Y/N. He maybe would have if Lieu hadn’t shown up when she did. No hesitation, she shot him. In the head. I was able to stay composed when I was with her but the moment I was alone, I couldn’t help but realize I could have died today. And if Mike hadn’t died? I don’t know that Lieu would have been so vigilant, ya know?”

Hearing what he’d been through you could not help but feel those similar emotions. He was still distraught and with you he didn’t have to save face. There was no need for that squad room bravado here. He could be as stripped and bare as he needed to be. He had always allowed the same with you. As close as you were in this moment you were not expecting what happened next. The two of you had sex before but it was always playful, why-the-hell-not kind of sex. It was never romantic and he’d always used to condom. Hell, after you always went to separate bedrooms, so even lying in each other's arms was different, but maybe that contributed. First he kissed you, then he took over and you let him. It wasn’t just sex that night. You felt like you’d made love but never would you admit that to Sonny’s face.

You would; however, tell your closest workmate (B/F) what happened. They knew that you and Sonny fooled around every once in a while and also knew that you cared about him. When you want more from someone, it is usually easier for someone else to see than yourself. Denial is an excellent camouflage. The weeks after things change a little between the two of you. There was a lot more touching and a lot more texts making sure each other were okay. But there was no more sex and you started to think it was just different that one night and things would eventually feel normal again. Pushing down your growing feelings for your roommate was nothing new. That was until you started feeling queasy in the morning.

At work, you walked straight up to B/F and pulled them aside. “I think I’m pregnant.”

B/F just stared at you blankly for a minute before responding. “Like with a baby?”

You couldn’t help but smack them in the arm. “What? Of course with a baby. I can’t have a giraffe. JC, Mary and Joseph, B/F. What am I gonna do?”

“I am assuming this is from your passionate romp with Son-Son? I mean you haven’t said you’ve been with anyone else since the night he almost died, right?” B/F could be a real ass sometimes but no matter what they kept things real. “I mean, Detective Hottie would be a good dad, right? You’re not thinking you’d, you know?” Twirling their finger around insinuating an abortion.

“What? No! Come on, but I mean, I haven’t taken a test yet, so I still need to confirm but I have to do it first thing in the morning. You break before me today. If I give you some cash will you run to the bodega and grab me a test? Please?”

All B/F could do was laugh. “You got it, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Besides, I want to know so I need to be on this journey with you, girl.”

Now, test in hand - more precisely, test in shaking hand, that big plus sign was screaming at you. You could hear Sonny in the kitchen making coffee and probably breakfast. Swallowing you buried the test in the trash, sent B/F a quick text saying it was positive, and then hopped in the shower. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sonny to come in while you were in there or you when he was, but given there was that screaming gem in the garbage your body tensed the moment you heard him walk in. “Hey, Y/N, where is my green dress shirt? The darker one. Didn’t it come back from the cleaners?”

Relaxing a little you continued to shower,”Yes, it should be in your closest. I picked it up yesterday.”

“It’s not though, I already looked.”

Knowing how out of it you were the day before you bit into your lip thankful Sonny could not see your face. “Check my closet then? I mean, I could have accidentally hung it in mine. I’m not perfect.”

You heard him leave and then yell out to you though you could not make out what he said before he returned. “Bingo. Wow, you know, I never realized how organized you are. I like it.” Next thing I know he is pulling the curtain back and smiling like an idiot. Your first reaction was to cover yourself knowing full well he’d not only seen but explored every part of your body. Still casual sex versus this you were taken aback. Furling your brow you tried not to smile, “Can I help you, detective?” So busy looking at his face you didn’t see he wasn’t dressed until he climbed in the shower with you.

“What the hell, Sonny?” He pulled you close to him and the skin on skin contact made your breath catch. He wasn’t some big strapping hunk all muscle bound, but he was perfect in so many ways. In a suit he looked skinny, but there was enough there to hold onto. There was just enough chest hair to not be gross - not overly hairy and not under hairy like a boy. Lanky suited him. Only 6 feet tall he had the longest thighs you’d ever seen on a man from hip to knee. You thought he was well proportioned everywhere that mattered.

He turned you around and pulled your hair off to the side to gain access to your neck. Even though there were moderate grunts of protest your body was fully responding to his touch. Your back arched and you could feel him hard against you while his hand gripped your hip and forced you closer, his other found your rock hard nipples and started playing with them just before you had to brace yourself against the shower wall. He was in you, kissing and nibbling on your back and neck and with each of his thrusts forward you rocked back in turn. His had left your nipple and made its way down to your clit, sure it was pulsating under his lengthy fingers. The two of you never had shower sex before but if this is what it was like you were willing every day. Holding you close as your body let go, the orgasm he gave you made you nearly collapse. He was soon to follow and it took a few minutes for either of you to recover.

You turned to him with a shit-eating grin and lightly smacked his chest. “What the fuck was that all about? I mean, I am not complaining but it seems out of character. You okay?”

All he could do was kiss you. “You were taking too long and I need to get ready for work too here. I mean, if you’re going to be a shower hog,” he shrugged and pursed his lips as he forced you to change positions with him with a laugh. Now he was under the water, soap in hand.

“So being a shower hog means I get that? Geez, Carisi, I will hog the shower every day then. You aren’t buying yourself free bathroom time.” You returned the laughter and got out of the shower trying your hardest to not glance at the waste basket. Had he seen it? Is that why he was so fucking giddy? Either way, you had class and were gone before he was even out of the shower. The day was long and trying to decide how to tell him was the hardest thing you’d ever encountered. This was a life changer. Kids. Sonny was a proud uncle and godfather, but a father? Like children of his own? On top of that with a woman he lived with and did not love. What would his mother say? Or worse, think of you? Certainly Mrs. Carisi would be overjoyed to have another grandbaby and one from her only son, no less, but Sonny’s dad was a jerk. The two of you spent many nights over the years talking about their parents and even meeting each other’s families, friends and co-workers. People found it hard to believe there was never more between the two of you but aside from very casual sex things had been very much a friendship until he almost got killed.

Walking into work there was definitely a bit of a pep in your step that morning. Had you only taken the pregnancy test, chances were you would feel queasy all day long and not just these morning blahs created by the growing baby Carisi. But Sonny was completely on point this morning and that made you smile enough for B/F to notice. Immediately they came over to you, “Girl, you are glowing! Tell me, tell me. I mean I saw your text but he must have been happy as hell for you to be floating like this!”

Their giddiness was infectious. “Stop it!” You giggled as you pulled them into the back room. “No, I didn’t tell Sonny at all. I think I would have, but he was in a mood this morning. He came into the bathroom several times when I was showering which isn’t out of the ordinary, but he crawled into the shower with me and damn, B/F” You clutched your chest and took a deep breath.

B/F raised a brow. “The shower? Like damn, what has gotten into him lately? He can’t get enough of you girl. It’s that man's prowess. He knows you’re pregnant even if he doesn’t know it. You’re sexier to him and he can’t get enough of you. But seriously, when are you gonna tell him for real?” That was not a question you had an answer for.

Thankfully, in the nicest sense, Sonny caught a case that kept him working, something about a nanny kidnapping the boy she watched because she didn’t like the woman she worked for. That was scary because there were so many nannies in New York City. Would you two have to pay for a nanny? Would that be a question? Your mind said you were not fixing this. There was a baby in existence and that child deserved to live and even if Sonny didn’t love you the way a man should love a child’s mother he would certainly love his kid. That man was way too Catholic to want anything other than the child. Your biggest concern right now was did he already know? You’d thrown the trash down the shoot and the test was still in there. Sonny was just acting weird.

When he finally came home you were sitting at the table doing school work. You said hello but kept studying, trying to get a feel for his mood. Jumping up and running to greet him had never been your way and a couple of crazy encounters shouldn’t change that. He set down his keys, badge and gun; took off his coat and then his wallet. This was his routine and nothing had changed. He was telling you how the case went and how they found the boy safe and unharmed and it was crazy how far people would go to prove they were right. They could break every law and still not feel deserving of the consequences. Then onto the couch. “Hey, Y/N, come here a sec, would ya?”

Tapping your pencil on your notebook, there was seriousness in his voice that raised concern. So you walked around the couch expecting to take his seat on the coffee table but instead he pulled you onto his lap, forcing your legs apart so you were straddling him. Your back arched again. All these years and though you’d found him attractive, these past few weeks were different. Sexiness came from how affectionate he was, or could be, and the man oozed it. He pulled you in for a kiss before talking. “We’ve been doing that a lot lately. Everything okay? I mean it sounded like you guys did good. Saved the child?”

“Yeah, I mean, life is pretty good. I’ve just been thinking. You and me, I know we go way back but here recently I can’t help but think we’re really good together, right? I mean, you could see it if you tried right? Being, maybe, more than just friends? Just roommates?”

That shot a jolt of fear through you. And concern. Had he discovered the test and now he was just trying to do what was right? It was one thing to know you were undoubtedly falling head over heels for this guy but to entrap him with a baby was a totally different scenario. He had every right to be a part of his child’s life but should never be forced into a loveless relationship and neither of you had ever professed your love. Great sex was not love and sadly, making babies together was not love either. Even though he could probably see that expression of fear all over your face, you tried hard to play it off. “Seriously, we share a couple of earth shaking orgasms and now you want to take a stab at forever, Sonny? Don’t be so mean.”

“I am serious,” he said, visibly hurt by your words. Almost that look a man would have if he proposed and then was rejected. Had you made him feel rejected?

“Come on, Sonny, how long have we been friends. You cannot be serious. That is just, well, it’s a little ridiculous. And insulting.” You feverishly were trying to protect your heart here, not knowing if this was the right time to spring the baby on him or even figure out if he knew. If you had to guess you were fishing for the latter. As you started to rise off his lap, what came next was not expected in the least. His nostrils flared a little and despite not being a big, bulky man, he was strong. He gripped your arms and threw you off to the side, landing on the couch. He’d actually hurt you. Was he so butt hurt that you didn’t take his seriously that he was willing to hurt you?

“Ouch, Sonny, that fucking hurt! You asshole!”

But he was up and on his feet now pacing. “That hurt? You landed on the sofa, Y/N. And, and, I’m an asshole? What about you? I put it out there, my heart on the line and you what, you just laugh at me like this is a big fucking joke? Good enough to live with, good enough to fuck but nothing else, huh? You don’t think I could take care of you?” He was screaming and you should have appeared visibly frightened to him. Something you think would make him stop but the only explanation you had in your head was he knew you were pregnant and this rejection was too much to handle. Sonny had yelled before around you but never laid hands on you and even though he hadn’t hit you your arms were still throbbing from his grip.

Dumbstruck, your own anger rose to the surface. “One second you are telling me you think we’d be great together and the next you’re tossing me around like afucking ragdoll because, what? I didn’t think you were serious? I deserved for you to lash out at me like that? You’re acting like your dad, Dominick.” You spit those words out with way more vitriol that you’d planned. Sonny tried so hard to be anything but Dominick Carisi the Senior and yet here you were fighting with him because his temper got the better of him. His face grayed. If not taking him seriously about a relationship hit a nerve, that statement must have set all of them on fire.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” He took a step forward and stopped but his finger was pointing at you and there were tears building in both your eyes. He looked pissed still but more hurt than upset.

Trying your damnedest to stand your ground. “You really think I would be okay with this behavior? You don’t love me, Sonny. You picked me up and threw me like I was nothing. I don’t give a shit what kind of man I thought you were, I can’t have this baby. And have to deal with that temper, all the time? Is that what this is? Like, make me love you and then you just turn into your father? I will not lie down for you. Fuck you. I’m leaving. I’m gonna go to B/F’s place. You can stay here and wonder what the hell just happened. I’m out.” You stormed off to your room, shaking and crying and could not find your phone before you realized it was still on the table with all your books. “Fuck,” you muttered. You two had never had an argument. Not once in nearly five years. Trying your best to calm down you pulled your gym bag out of the closet and broke down in tears.

Sonny, on the other hand, was now standing alone in the living room trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. He’d thought all day about you and how there was a shift and about your past together and it all seemed so crazy that he had not realized sooner he’d fallen for you. Amanda had teased him before about it but no matter how many times he heard it from other people he’d never been able to admit it. But then he almost died and thinking deeply about the people he loved or even the people that would be upset had he been killed, you were right there in the forefront, even before his mother and sisters. The detective part of his brain kicked into overdrive. On the way home he’d worked himself up thinking there was no way that a girl like you could ever love a guy like him. The sex was great and really, everything else seemed great too, so why not see where it could go. Getting angry was the last thing he’d thought about and yet here he was exploding with emotion and so raw.

You’d equated him to his father, which is the last man in the world Sonny ever wanted to be compared to. You overreacted and said he’d thrown you when all he was trying to do was get you off him and if he did that too harshly he was sorry, but his heart was breaking because he swear you’d said something about a baby? And not just a generic statement but the words ‘this baby’ as in an already existing child? And then the comparison to his father? That was a low blow but was it because you were pregnant? His confusion was too much. Taking a breath, a big one, he went to your room and knocked on the door before opening it.

You were curled on the bed crying. Sonny walked around, hands up and started talking like he would to a rape victim at work. “We need to talk. And you have every right to be mad at me, Y/N, you do, but you can’t shut me out like this. Not after what you said out there.”

Eyes burning you found the courage to look at his face. “I know, Sonny. It was unfair of me to compare you to your father, and I am sorry. But I have never seen you that angry and you have never treated me that way. I am totally caught off guard by it.” Sitting up, you grabbed a pillow and pulled it close to your body, squeezing it like a child would a teddy bear. “What is going on with you? Lately you have been so different.”

“It’s not obvious?” He asked, confused.

“Obvious? The only thing obvious here is that we just had a major blow up and I am not sure we can come back from this.”

“Don’t you think we have to? I mean we should, right?” He nodded in your direction but you were not putting two and two together.

“What do you mean we have to?”

Sonny had always been really great and knowing when a woman was pregnant given just how much time he’d spent around women. His baby sisters, his partner - every time they were pregnant, Sonny knew. How had he missed it with you?

“Y/N, you said out there, I can’t have this baby… you’re pregnant. And you didn’t tell me? Were you going to? Cause I am so confused.”

There would be no way Sonny would miss the color leaving your face. You said that out loud? Holy shit. You were upset and not thinking, but that was not the way you wanted Sonny to hear about it. Somehow you thought you would not have to tell him, that he would know and just ask you and then you could answer honestly. Instead, you spewed it out in a hateful, over-dramatic way because you didn’t think he could seriously ever love you despite how much he had changed over the past few weeks. You loved Sonny and deep down you knew it and were too afraid to admit it and then finding out you were having his baby you also knew you didn’t feel worthy enough to be the mother of his child.

Choking back your emotions you began to speak slowly and as steadily as you possibly could. “Sonny, I, um…”

He moved to sit on the bed with you, calm as ever, the man you knew you loved. “I am so sorry I scared you. That is not who I am, Y/N and I hope you know that, but this is big and we do need to at least talk about this. I mean, you didn’t mean it did you? You wouldn’t get rid of the baby, would you?”

“No! It’s just, I found out last week the morning you came into the shower. You were acting so unlike you and I thought you’d seen the box or the test and I am still not sure why you haven’t asked about it? I just thought you were acting differently because you knew. And then you’re asking me out there if we should be a thing and that we work great together and I felt like because you had to know that you were only asking me because I am pregnant and not because you really love me or want to be with me or us. Then you got angry and I have never seen you so angry, not once and I must be the reason right? Me or the baby or both?” By time you were done with the hysterical rant you were practically out of breath.

All Sonny could do was smile. He felt like a total ass for allowing his temper to get the better of him. “Did I hurt you out there? I mean, I know I hurt you, but are you hurt, like needing to go to the hospital hurt?” All you could do was nod no. “Okay, I want to put it out there that I didn’t know. I have been acting so differently because when Cole tried to kill me, my world changed. I have been shot at and I know the job is dangerous, but literally my life flashed before my eyes. And on the way home, once I was alone, I had time to think about everything I would be leaving behind and how much I would miss you. And then you took care of me and I realized how you really always have. You work two jobs,” he smiled that beautiful, crooked smile, “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know about the cuddling thing. Either way. You pick up my dry cleaning, you were my biggest cheerleader when I was at Fordham. You’re everything, Y/N. So, yeah, things were different that night and I wasn’t sure how to tell you without freaking you out.”

You started laughing through the falling tears. His words were sweet and you knew that moment of upset was just as much a misunderstanding as it was a shock to both you. Sonny was not Dominick - never had been, never would be. This whole thing was a moment in time, two people who’d fallen in love and were too afraid to admit it. “Our child is going to be born talking, isn’t it?”

You both laughed. The tears in his eyes were those of joy. He pointed and you nodded before he crawled up on the bed the rest of the way, beside you, and took you into his arms.

“I love you, Y/N. I promise I will never, ever lash out like that again. Will you promise me something though?”

Looking up into his eyes, “I love you too, Sonny. And I am sorry I didn’t just tell you. What do you want me to promise?”

“That the next time there is something THIS big, you tell me?”

“I promise.”

#my writing #sonny carisi #y/n #one shot #svu

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winters-tales · 4 years ago

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Evening! I have a confession to make: I'm exhausted. I've been furloughed from my 9-5 job for 6 months, but I started back again at the start of this month. So I am back at work trying to relearn everything, and trying to keep up with NaNoWriMo, as well as sticking to my streaming schedule! It's a bit much. So today, I might not get much done, and that's ok!

To make up for it, here's another sneak peek of a bit more of the novel. CW for depictions of PTSD, implied alcoholism, implied suicidal tendencies, and forced sedation under the cut.

It wasn't easy to write, but I'm of the firm opinion that war - ANY kind of war - shouldn't be easy to write about or read about. This is obviously a fictional account, but PTSD is very real. Please look after yourself when reading!

Transcript of the debrief regarding Capt. [REDACTED] actions during Operation: [REDACTED].

Debrief in subject’s own words:

My name is Captain [REDACTED] and I was enlisted for a Black-Ops mission known as Operation [REDACTED] that began in May 1983. Myself, [NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED] were selected for this mission as a matter of utmost secrecy. I am satisfied that I am presenting my debrief to the proper chain of command, but even if I wasn’t, I don’t really give a fuck. Fuck your secrecy. I’ll tell anyone who asks.

When you signed up to fight in the War, you had to get comfortable with the impossible fucking fast. The foot soldiers I could deal with; they at least looked like us, more or less, in that uncanny valley, people-but-not-quite kind of way. Still, they were just people who didn’t quite look like me, and you’re trained not to think of people like that as people early on. Reduces the risk of you freezing up when you need to take an essential shot. But when it became clear that there was so much more to deal with, the knowledge that at the end of the day it’s still just people becomes a comfort rather than a horror. Isn’t that fucked up?

[sound of a teacup being placed in a saucer]

Have you ever seen a dragon? They’re not quite like the stories, you know, but they’re also like all of the stories together. [NAME REDACTED] hated us calling them dragons; he insisted they were Jabberwocks. Crazy bastard, but he got me and a few others out of a tight spot more than once, so sure, I’ll sing whatever tune he wants when he can hear us.

[pause, sound of chinaware clinking as the Captain fiddles with her teacup and saucer]

Shame.

[pause for 5 minutes as the Captain seems to contemplate something]

Anyway, dragons: They swallow fire. Sure, they breathe it, but they swallow it first. Not just standard flames, anything that could feasibly be called hot. Flares, phosphorous grenades, and even, as I saw once, nuclear warheads.

Lot of mixed feelings that day. Bastards for seeing us as disposable. Relief that it’s not getting dropped on us now. Hope it might kill the thing. Horror when it doesn’t. Pure terror as we see exactly what they’re capable of, exactly what we’re being asked to throw ourselves up against time and time again.

[pause]

Any chance of another brew? In a mug this time, I’m too rough for this fancy tea set. And if I could have my hip flask back, I’d appreciate it. It’s just rum. Nothing dire. Just to help me get through the rest of this. I know you’ve got me down as High Risk but truth be told, I’m too chickenshit to do that. I’ll live through everything because it’s not as scary as the alternative, just as long as I’ve got a little liquid courage.

[tape is paused briefly before the recording restarts]

That hits the spot. Right. Where was I?

Dragons. Jabberwocks. Infernal wyrms.

Whatever you decide to call them, whatever name you pick out of whatever fairy tales you grew up on, just know it doesn’t come close to the reality of them.

[chuckling]

The reality of dragons. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

But yeah, the reality isn’t shiny. Impressive, yes, but on a scale your tiny fucking brain just can’t comprehend. Like standing at the base of a mountain and trying to work out how you’ll head-butt the peak.

I watched one of the colossal things snatch the first nuclear warhead out of the atmosphere, felt faint hope that it was just a dumb creature and would explode from the inside out… and watched it belch radioactive flame across our own ground troops. Instead of maximised dispersal over a wide area that was regrettably comprised of friend and foe, our lot got concentrated nuclear destruction while their lot walked away.

When you see something like that, it feels like there’s not a lot that can persuade you to go back out there. Queen and Country? What the FUCK is she going to do to me that’s worse than a dragon that EATS our nuclear weapons? Stand me against a wall with the rest of the poor motherfuckers who didn’t run far enough, fast enough, and shoot me personally? This bullshit-

[the sound of furniture being moved aggressively; the Captain had kicked the table away from her and begun striding around the room gesticulating]

-is why so much research was going into weaponizing DRONES-

[The Captain’s voice is becoming indistinct, although her volume is increasing; furniture is being thrown around her interview room, including the table, which cracks the one-way window in an impressive display of strength]

-because once we’d seen it first-hand there’s no amount of love for your fucking COUNTRY that’ll make you walk into the devil’s maw again!

[the interview room door opens hard and bounces off the wall as people enter quickly]

-no- get off me- I’m not wrong- I’m-

[indistinct shouting of multiple people]

-fucking hands OFF me you rat bastard -

[At this point in the interview the Captain had to be restrained by several orderlies and sedated. The recording was paused while we cleared the damage and found sturdier furniture and restraints. The Captain is much calmer when the recording begins again, a full 30 minutes after sedation was administered]

Anyway. Once a soldier has seen the widespread devastation of a nuclear attack – and not just one, when they’re forced to watch it again and again, with the knowledge their superiors have written them off as “acceptable losses” – they realise that their country really, truly does not care one fucking whit for them, and something in their brain breaks. You’ve then got to give them a reason not to run, not to take their trusty service pistol for one last hurrah, and certainly not to storm the offices of our beloved elected officials, grab them by their lapels, and ask them what the fuck they were thinking.

No, when soldiers break the way we did, when they can’t think of a reason to keep going, all you can do is harness what they do have left, and hope they self-destruct far away from where you’d need to clean it up. [NAME REDACTED] had rage, and the desire to destroy every last enemy, injury or no. I had my apathy and my stubborn stronger-than-gods-own-will survival instinct. Throw in someone who desperately wants to save the world more than they want to save themselves, and you’ve got the team of me, [NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED].

They told us – YOU, you bastards, you told us – that we were going to save the world, and truth be told I didn’t care. You told us we were going to eliminate the last credible threat to humanity as a whole, and during the briefing I wished you’d all die choking. But I went along with it. What else could I do? Maybe something would catch us and finally end my ridiculous will to live. All we had to do was gather intel, and cause as much damage as we could on our way out.

[There’s a pause as the Captain considers something]

Is Major [REDACTED] still around? Told him I’d demonstrate how soft he’d gotten if I made it back. Told him I’d- Well. Guess it doesn’t matter now.

[Pause]

[NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED], they were the damage. Higher-ups had their number, and knew that if it came to it, [NAME REDACTED] would likely stay behind to go out in a blaze of glory and cover our escape with a high casualty ratio. [NAME2 REDACTED] would, in their unfailing optimism, make every effort to return, no doubt about that, but if they couldn’t, they’d do the noble self-sacrifice to ensure at least one of us made it back in one piece with intel.

I was the messenger. They had my number too; they’d seen me walk out of situations that should have killed me and they knew I’d probably walk out of this one too, and they were banking on me not knowing what else to do except follow orders.

And you know the really fucked-up thing? They were right. Here I am, following orders.

The mission failed.

I remember the night before we went through: making sure we were kitted out properly before getting our rest, ignoring the PTSD nightmares when we woke each other through the night. Par for the course at that point; who wasn’t deeply messed up?

I remember the morning: breakfast was bacon pancakes with maple syrup and black pudding. Delicious. Last hot meal we’d get for who knows how long.

We roped ourselves together, and one by one we stepped into the godforsaken breach.

And from the moment we stepped through, to the moment I fell back out and into your compound, I don’t remember a goddamned thing. Not one second of it. For all I know, I stepped through and got spat back out straight away. There’s just a big old blank spot where time should be in my head, and I don’t have a clue what happened to the other two. Did they go out in a blaze of glory? Did they come back ahead of me with any intel they got? I don’t know, and you don’t either, because you weren’t expecting me at all, and if they’d made it back, you’d know I’d be following after.

And you’ve got the gall to tell me it’s me it’s been three-hundred and seventy-five years to the day since I left on my mission? You must think I’m fucking crazy.

Notes:

The Captain passed out quite quickly after asking if we questioned her sanity, presumably from the combination of strong alcohol and even stronger sedatives; that she was able to remain so coherent and measured after sedation is an impressive feat given how much was administered.

When she woke up again 4 hours later, she seemed perfectly coherent with no sign of any negative after-effects from the alcohol, sedatives, or the combination of both. There was no residual tiredness, she simply asked if she was being dismissed from duty yet, as she had a lot to think about. She said we could keep the hip flask. A concerning declaration; giving away meaningful items is a common prelude to a suicide attempt, so she is now on round-the-clock observation in a high security facility. While she insists that she’s at no risk of attempting, that’s not something we want to get wrong.

It’s true that the Captain more or less fell out of a breach that we’d previously thought to be inactive, however she swears blind that she was not responsible for the murder of Gatesman Antok and the two perimeter guards of the facility. CCTV investigation is unable to corroborate this, as she was the only unaccounted-for body on site, and CCTV did not pick up any other potential attackers entering the facility. The investigation into the murder is ongoing.

If any files on Operation: [REDACTED] exist, they’re almost certainly locked in a bunker somewhere or else consigned to a shredder some 300-plus years ago. Nevertheless, a request for information has been submitted to the relevant departments, and now undoubtedly sits in a bureaucratic traffic jam as we await the possibility of a declassified document. In the meantime, we’ve redacted the names of the accompanying team members to preserve what little deniability is left after almost 400 years.

#fen's originals #writing #NaNoWriMo2020 #creative writing #ptsd tw #alcoholism tw #forced sedation tw

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Thirteen: Show No Fear ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Shisui ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

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“Sasuke...when was the last time you left the house…?”

Looking up from a scroll he’s reading, Sasuke gives his cousin a questioning glance. “...why?”

Arms folding, Shisui perks a brow at him. “Because it seems like the entire time I’ve been back, you’ve been holed up in here like a mouse under three feet of snow. Doesn’t seem much like the Sasuke I knew.”

At that, Sasuke sours a few degrees. “You know damn well I’m not the Sasuke you knew.”

“I don’t mean in regards to growing up and the trauma you faced. I mean in terms of shying from something difficult.”

“...excuse me?”

The elder Uchiha looks him over thoughtfully. “...why are you here, Sasuke?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I mean here. In Konoha. I’ve been playing my fair share of catch-up, but from what I’ve heard, it sounded like you were dead set on razing this place to the ground not too long ago. Then suddenly you changed your mind? Why?”

“Not really something we can discuss with a light chat,” Sasuke counters, eyes dropping back to his reading.

“Because it seems to me,” Shisui goes on, clearly ignoring the cue to drop the matter, “that you’re scared of something.”

There’s a long pause before Sasuke looks back up. “...I’ve heard a lot of stupid things in my time, but that takes the cake, Shisui. What the hell do I have to be scared of?”

“You tell me,” is the simple counter.

“I’m not scared of anything here.”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything beyond hiding away in here?”

“I’m not hiding -!”

“I’ve heard how you’ve been avoiding everyone you knew like some kind of plague. And I know I don’t know how things went with most of them...and those I do know of, not nearly as well as you do,” Shisui offers, holding up a hand at Sasuke’s tensing. “...but it seems pretty obvious to me you don’t want anything to do with them. But my question is...why are you still in Konoha if it seems to be making you so damn miserable?”

“...that’s rich, coming from you. Konoha’s underbelly stole your eye and left you for dead, and you haven’t done a damn thing to change things.”

“I was fifteen when that happened, and things were a lot more unstable than they are now,” Shisui rebukes. “Now I am all for taking out some trash, but not in the ‘burn Konoha to the ground’ kind of way like you suggested in the past. There’s some rotten shit in this village, even after Danzō and Hiruzen have been removed. But there’s also a lot of innocent lives and people just trying to survive. Which I think you’ve come to realize. And I think that’s also why you came back at all: to try and salvage what’s left of the place you remember as a kid. There’s still things in Konoha worth fighting for. But you don’t seem to be doing much of anything about it.”

“I’m -!” Sasuke’s mouth clamps shut, suddenly aware he’s not sure what he wants to say. “...we’ve both got our own shit to sort out. You spent half your life alone, blind, and bearing a hell of a lot of dirty secrets. I spent mine following every wrong path and person willing to take advantage of me. I killed my brother. I let Orochimaru and Obito and Akatsuki use me to try and find what I was looking for in all the wrong places. It’s been, what...a few weeks since the war ended? Sorry if that’s too much time to try and sort out everything that’s happened the past ten years.”

“I’m not saying for you to drop all inhibitions and pretend nothing ever happened,” Shisui retorts, exasperation in his tone. “But the thing is, you’ve got to take that first baby step sometime. The longer you put it off, the harder it’s going to be. I know you have issues with your classmates. Some...a hell of a lot more than others. But isn’t there anyone you can think of to at least make that initial effort with? Anyone at all? And no, neither of us count,” he adds as Sasuke opens his mouth a bit too quickly.

Shifting to a half-hearted glower, Sasuke looks aside. Truthfully, given how much he retreated from others not long after even joining the Academy...he’s given very few of his classmates any thought beyond those who ended up on his team. And for now, they are the last people he has any inclination to connect with. “...I don’t know. I didn’t exactly make many friends growing up.”

“Shocking,” Shisui counters flatly, ignoring his cousin’s scathing look. “...tell you what. Just...go out for the afternoon. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. But gods above Sasuke, you have to experience more of Konoha than this house. You want to save it, right? Change it for the better? Then don’t be such a stranger to it. People are already wary of you given your status of missing nin, no matter your reasoning behind it. The more you hide away and give them the cold shoulder, the harder it’s gonna be to convince them that what you want to do here is for the betterment of the village. They’ve got work to do to re-earn your trust...but so do you. Otherwise you’re gonna come off as an asshole shoving his weight around without really knowing Konoha. You ‘abandoned’ it. So come back. Truly.”

“Tch…” In all reality, it was Konoha that abandoned him, but...he knows Shisui is right. He’s not scared of the villagers, but rather...apprehensive. As his cousin notes, he isn’t on the best of terms with them, nor them with him. He’s already so damn tired, so worn from all he’s gone through. The thought of picking up yet another cause, another battle, has been daunting.

...but he’s not afraid. He’s not about to let Konoha think it scares him.

So, after a moment of silent internal debate, he rolls up his scroll, tying the parchment shut before getting to his feet. “...fine.”

“Atta boy. Show no fear, eh?”

That earns a cool glance, but no verbal retort as he heads for the door and into the large, empty expanse of the clan compound. To his annoyance, the autumn sunlight actually makes him squint.

...maybe he has been cooped up too long.

Mentally preparing himself for the glances, gawking, and glowers, Sasuke follows the forming path between the lone Uchiha household...and the village proper. Thankfully it leads into quiet residential neighborhoods first, and not the noise and bustle of the village belly.

Even so, a few residents look up from their yards and their porches. He considers cheating a bit and using a henge, but...that largely defeats the purpose. Instead, he ignores the eyes on him and just...keeps going, winding his way around the quieter parts of the village.

Hi no Kuni is just on the brink of tumbling from Autumn into Winter, a definite chill in the air. Mulling over the fact that it will be snowing soon, Sasuke almost misses a soft inquiry of his name.

“...Sasuke-kun?”

Stopping a full pace later, he blinks before turning. There’d been a subconscious tightening of his muscles at his name and the suffix, fearing Sakura. But the tone was too soft, too gentle to be her demanding bark for attention. Instead, he sees someone he admittedly almost forgot existed: Hyūga Hinata. One of his classmates from back in the day. But despite her aging since he last even looked her way, he never forgets a face. “...Hyūga,” he offers in reply.

At his acknowledgement, she steps a bit closer. Her outfit is accented by a long coat and a scarf. “...sorry, I…” A pause. “...at first, I...wasn’t sure it was you. I haven’t seen you much since the end of the war.”

You haven’t seen me at all, he wants to counter, but thinks better of it. She’s just trying to be polite in addressing his complete ghosting. “I’ve been staying home a lot.”

“...I see. Going for a walk…?”

“Though I’d get some fresh air.” The meaningless small talk is slowly bringing an itch in the back of his mind, demanding he leave. But this is what Shisui was talking about: dipping his toes back in. And who better than someone he barely remembers, let alone has any reason to detest?

At his reply, she smiles. “It does a person good,” is her agreement. “I was just on my way back from visiting Tenten-chan. She lives out here, in the residential district.”

...he’s not sure what to say to that. “...I see.”

“...I…” Another pause - is she always so hesitant when speaking? “...forgive me if this is a little, um...forward, Sasuke-kun. But aren’t you...cold?”

He blinks. In truth he did completely skip over any preparation for his little outing, too engrossed in Shisui’s nagging. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have a spare -?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

His blunt, almost callous reply earns a flinch back, clearly not expecting it. And for some reason, Sasuke finds himself immediately regretting it...but unsure how to take it back.

“...o-okay. Um...well, I...guess I’ll leave you to your walk.” Somehow, her voice seems even softer, almost...sad? “Have...have a good afternoon, Sasuke-kun.”

He grimaces as she walks past him. Fix this, idiot! “Hyūga.”

She pauses, glancing back.

For a long moment, jaw clenched, Sasuke battles with himself over what to do. And to her credit, Hinata waits patiently, if not without a fair share of confusion. “...I...wasn’t snapping at you.”

Large, pale eyes blink. “...I understand -”

“No, I…” He sighs, a hand running back through his hair as he thinks. “...I’m still...adjusting. And...I’m not very good at...this.” A hand gestures vaguely, not...really explaining what this is.

But Hinata seems to comprehend, brightening just a hair, turning to face him fully. “...it...must be strange,” she agrees gently. “I know we, um...we never really spoke. And I regret that. Surely being here is difficult for you, given…” She fades out, appearing unsure how much she should say. “...but I just...wanted you to know that you’re welcome here. I can’t speak for...for everyone. And maybe not everyone feels that way. But Konoha is your home, so long as...you choose it to be. And I hope things improve for you. If you need anything, please just let me know. I’d be glad to help.” She offers another smile, this one far warmer than the first.

In spite of himself, Sasuke stares at her for a long moment in genuine surprise. “...thanks,” is all he can muster in reply.

“I hope to see you around more often,” Hinata adds, hands folding at her front. “Don’t let your apprehension hold you back, Sasuke-kun. Everything is changing. And...you should be able to take part in it, too. You helped protect this chance at change, after all.” She then gives a small, polite bow. “Enjoy the rest of your walk.”

Still not sure what to say, he nods in return, watching her go. That was...not what he expected. And in a way, he can’t help but be thankful that was his first encounter: odds are anything else would have been far worse. Mulling it all over, he eventually decides to then cut his adventure short. Not very long, but...well, he wants to keep it from being ruined by anything else. And he can always have another go some other day.

...maybe he’ll have a chance to try that again and not be so...well...that.

Blegh, still not fully caught up, but...at least falling no further behind? :’D This is a bit random and not precisely what I was aiming for when I started, but...I think it turned out all right. I’ve never written Sasuke and Hinata’s very first encounter post-war. Ones soon after, but not the first. Not sure I got it quite how I wanted, but I mean...this is a random event drabble, not the fic itself. So I guess I can forgive it xD One of the key things about SH to me is 1. Sasuke’s lack of interaction with Hinata pre-war, and thus having no qualms about her, and 2. Hinata’s sweet nature and what I’m sure would be understanding once she heard even the barest of details concerning what he went through...let alone everything she ends up knowing (down the road) in this story. You bet your bonnet that as a member of a large Konoha clan, and someone of import in that clan who had her own share of difficulties with both internal and external politics, she’d be one of the first to rally with Sasuke for change and justice. But that’s just my two cents, and at 2am no less, so take them with a grain of salt :P On that note tho it is definitely time for bed lol - thanks so much for reading, and I’ll see you next time!

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha shisui #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]

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pendragyn · 5 years ago

Text

First Line Tag

I was tagged by @gaslightgallows

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

Tagging: @raevenlywrites @froglesbianwriting @mperialscribe @teaflint @writingamongthecoloredroses @moniquill @napoleonscat and I know I am forgetting people, please join in on the fun and tag me if you do!

So.. Er, haven’t read much of anything but my own stuff on AO3, trying to get back into writing because everything sucks rn. It’s Good Omens with a dash of Discworld all the way down, below the cut.

In The Garden; pre-fall, pre-canon fic of them in the Garden of Eden.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING...

…Was darkness. That’s what happens when the sun isn’t up, and as it was almost the middle of the night —the first night, leading into the first day in the Garden of Eden— darkness was only to be expected.

The Great Plan was being set in motion. The countdown to start the countdown to the end of the world had begun. Things were getting down to the wire and the Heavens were in a tizzy to make sure everything went off without a hitch during the official launch.

Down in the Garden of Eden, all was peaceful. This was also to be expected. The only living beings in the entire Garden were two corporeal but unconscious angels reposing among the roots of the Tree. They’d been held in stasis since their incorporation a number of days earlier and weren’t due to wake until things were officially under way. Ostensibly this was to allow them to acclimate to corporeality, but in reality it was to keep them out of everyone’s metaphorical hair.

Of course, even the best laid plans never do go quite as planned, do they?

There was no Heavenly fanfare heralding the occasion, no Celestial sign except the eternal march of the stars across the sky, nothing at all to indicate that something was being set into motion as midnight of the day in question rolled around.

But down in their resting spots, the angels awoke.

Serpents And Ladders; what happens after the end of In The Garden.

After the fall of the Garden, for the first time that any could remember, change came rapidly to Heaven in the form of the instant adoption of corporeal forms amongst most of the archangels, much to the bafflement of some of the oldest Celestials who were gently prodded to a quiet retirement out among the stars. Heaven itself shifted to accommodate their altered forms, which forced the rest of the Celestials and the Elementals who did most of the day to day operations to adopt similar seemings.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crawly knew why it caught on, not that anyone ever thought to ask them. The reasoning was simple enough, if multi-faceted. Firstly, corporeality is a surprisingly potent antidote to knurd[1], with built in buffers against the harshness of reality. Really no surprise that it was popular.

Secondly, Celestial beings come in a great many shapes and sizes and types and having them all conform to one generally accepted shape was much more convenient, especially when it came to paperwork. (No one knew where paperwork had come from, since paper was technically not a thing yet, but there you go. It’s ineffable.)

Thirdly, with the increasing tensions between certain factions within the Host, having your firmament safely ensconced inside of flesh and bone made it that much harder to be spied on, making secrets that much easier to keep, especially once they discovered how to hide their wings.

And last but not least, though it took Aziraphale and Crawly a long while to fully comprehend the ramifications of it, it was because the humans began to believe, in great enough numbers, that that was how Heaven and the Host looked.

1. Being knurd is to be unintoxicated to such an extent that all comfort stories are stripped away from the mind. This makes you see the world in a way 'nobody ever should', in all its harsh reality.

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They); the church in ‘41 and what happens, and doesn’t happen, after. (total tearjerker)

Crowley ran, ran and ran, heart pounding, almost blind with panic, hissing with pain as their foot hit the edge of consecrated ground, but it didn’t matter, because they were in time and like a snake shedding their skin the panic slipped away as they yanked open the door and hot-footed their way into the church under the confused eyes of a trio of nazis and an angel moments away from a fate worse than death.

A church, for fuck’s sake? Can’t the angel see it’s a setup? A trap? Dealing with nazis on holy ground, giving them holy books, even if it’s supposed to be a double-cross, a double double-cross. “Sorry, consecrated ground. Ugh, like being on the beach in bare feet.” Crowley fervently kept that thought in mind, because in reality, it was far far worse than that. Crowley was very good at imagining not being on fire, and that belief was all that was keeping them from falling to ash inside that church.

Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley in shock, for a moment wondering if they were actually hallucinating the way humans could during moments of high stress. Because consecrated ground discorporates demons, and yet. And yet, Crowley was somehow really here. Why the he heaven is Crowley here? “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale hissed, the nazis and the gun momentarily forgotten.

“Stopping you from getting in trouble,” Crowley hissed back, dancing from foot to foot just an arm’s length away from Aziraphale. Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, if you panic you’re both done for.

Stacking The Deck;

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely not religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever.

Nature vs Nurture; raising the antichrist

After the handshake, Crowley left in a hurry to set some of their plans into motion, with promises of talking soon and a casual ciao tossed over their shoulder before slipping out of the shop and roaring off down the road. What Aziraphale didn’t see was the demon pulled over a few blocks later, pressing their forehead against the steering wheel of the Bentley and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that the angel had finally, finally, agreed to help them save the world. And wondered, briefly, if God hadn’t been right to kick Crowley out, because how much of a right proper bastard did you have to be to knowingly ask your best friend to do the most dangerous thing they could ever possibly do?

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to make sure the shop door was locked before retreating into the back room to think, away from the demon’s so very temping influence. It didn’t take the angel long to convince themself that it had to be the right thing to do, because otherwise it wouldn’t be hell starting the war, but heaven, and surely heaven didn’t want a war. Once that was settled, Aziraphale began to really set their mind to finding the solutions to the multitude of problems their scheme would surely entail. The second course of action was to retrieve the ancient tome of magic they kept safely secured in a secret room on the second floor of the shop and settling it reverently on to the desk to start their research.

Setting Things To Rights; Adam Young gets a visit from Agnes Nutter after the world doesn’t end.

“Come back. Please.”

Adam stared down at his best friends in the whole universe, sure his heart was breaking as they turned and ran away. He knew then he’d messed up bad, maybe beyond fixing. He tried to call them back, to beg even, but no sound would come and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Come back! Please! he wanted to say, pressing his hands to his tear-dampened face. I’m sorry!

You don’t need them. You can have new friends. Better friends. All you have to do is show us the way.

A low growl and a familiar waft of doggy breath as a wet tongue lapped at his cheek had Adam opening his eyes, and he hugged Dog tightly in relief. “Oh Dog! I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when Dog licked him again. “I am sorry, you know that, don’t you?”

Dog whined and licked him again in answer.

“Thanks boy.” Adam let out a much heavier sigh and rubbed at his eyes when tears threatened again. The dream had been so real, too real, more memory than dream, and frightening in ways he didn’t want to think about. It hurt, knowing he’d hurt his friends so bad they’d stopped being his friends. And even though they’d forgiven him in the end, would they ever really trust him again? Especially when he could still do what he’d done? Would he trust someone who had done that to him?

In the silence there were two faint but distinct knocks that Adam heard clear as a bell. Dog’s ears perked up and Adam blinked and they both looked around the room for a source of the noise. There wasn’t much light but it was more than enough to show that nothing was out of place.

Still, Adam found himself saying, “Who’s there?”

A faint glimmering form stepped through the door. It was an old woman, dressed in really old clothes. “I have waited a long while for this meeting, Adam Young.” She bowed at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I be Agnes Nutter, witch. And ghost.”

Ineffable Bastards; the one I’m stuck on. :/

Groaning brakes pulled Crowley from their thoughts and they led Aziraphale off the bus, waiting until it had pulled away to turn towards their building. There was a sharp twinge in their stomach when they looked to the empty spot where the Bentley was usually parked. They felt another twinge when they looked at Aziraphale, who was staring up at the building with a distant blankness of expression that Crowley understood all too well. “C’mon, angel, I think we could both use a drink.”

No sound came at first, but Aziraphale managed to croak out, “Yes,” after a moment. They felt strangely distant from their feelings in the odd silence and they trailed behind the demon into the flat, which was both nothing like and exactly like what Aziraphale would expect from Crowley. The art got a few blinks but there was no energy to consider what they might mean after the day week decade they’d had.

Unlike the bare concrete walls in the other rooms, the kitchen was slick with creamy white marble and terrazzo tiles, ebony cabinets that gleamed and stainless steel appliances that had never been used or even plugged in, though they were well stocked with food and drink. Crowley grabbed a bottle at random and a couple of glasses, bringing them over to the chrome and glass table with a small collection of colorful orchids in the center. “Salute.”

The angel lifted their glass to toast before downing the drink and holding it out for a refill. Crowley obliged and they sat in silence for a while before Aziraphale asked, “Now what?”

“Eh, now I fall down and sleep for a while and you…” Crowley pulled off their glasses and gave the angel a long look. “You don’t really sleep do you? You should try it, great for getting away from your thoughts.”

“Rarely. Doesn’t seem to work that way for me, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale sighed and shook their head. “I just keep thinking about Agnes’ prophecy. Face the fire.” They shuddered a little. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Rubbing at their tired eyes, and the sting of unsheddable tears, Crowley nodded. “You’re in big trouble, angel.”

“You know full well we’re both, as they say, in for it,” Aziraphale corrected, smiling a little when Crowley gave them a look. “I’ve toed the line for a long time, but you, my dear, have danced around it to the point that I’m not sure they even know where they drew the line to begin with. If Heaven is going to ‘fire’ me, what’s Hell going to do to you?” Saying it aloud had tears burning in their eyes and they wiped at them hastily.

Wilde Card; my take on why Aziraphale had a set of Oscar Wilde’s works.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

Crowley tried to find a subtle way to ask, but curiosity had been eating at them to the point of distraction since the former angel had let slip that humans could have preternatural ancestry. “When you said, you’d never… with a human.”

Aziraphale gave them a confused look that melted into amused understanding when they realized Crowley was blushing. “My dear, are you asking me about my experiences?”

“Uh… Just, I seem to recall you mentioning a lot of gentleman’s clubs...” Crowley let their head drop back against the couch and covered their face when Aziraphale chuckled. “Ugh, angel!”

“I won’t judge you, you know,” Aziraphale murmured, smiling tenderly when Crowley looked at them. “If you, uh, found human companionship-”

“No! Ugh, no, it’d be like… no, I can’t help but think of them as children,” Crowley admitted. “Even Nanny Ogg, which tells you something about me I suppose,” they said, making Aziraphale laugh.

“I am in complete agreement with that sentiment,” said Aziraphale. “And it wasn’t just gentleman's clubs I frequented, there were quite a few for women if you knew where to look and who to talk to. You do know a lot more went on in the clubs than just sexual intercourse, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known better, just, uh...” Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale’s hand. “There must have been quite a few poor smitten fools vying for your attention.”

Apple Of My Eye; complete fluff I wrote because of a pic I saw on tumblr

Crowley looked up from their mobile, barely able to contain their grin. “Hey, angel-”

“No.” Aziraphale didn’t even have to look up from the book they were reading to know the former demon was up to no good.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Crowley protested, still grinning at seeing the amusement crinkling around the reformed angel's eyes.

Aziraphale looked over at them with a feigned put-upon sigh. One look at Crowley’s grin had them asking, “Oh somebody, do I even want to know?”

If anything, that only made Crowley’s grin grow. “So I’m thinking maybe it’s time I branch out, try some different styles of shades. Whaddya think?”

Aziraphale spluttered into startled laughter when Crowley turned the mobile around, revealing a pair of spectacles where the rose tinted lenses had been shaped into breasts. “Why in the world-”

“Ain’t humans grand?” Crowley said, grinning down at the picture before sliding a sly look at Aziraphale and raising a hand, fingers poised to snap. “I could just…”

“You would too, wouldn’t you,” Aziraphale said with a shake of their head, pretending to go back to reading but watching Crowley sidelong. “Well I would rather you didn’t but I can’t stop you from going around looking, looking like a right proper tit if you want to,” they said with feigned primness, barely hiding their smile when Crowley laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Alright angel, alright, you’ve convinced me. Wouldn’t want to put you off being seen with me.” It was a joke, mostly, and Crowley was still grinning as they said it, but inwardly that age old doubt still lingered.

Aziraphale knew it was there of course, having many of the same insidious worries about their new togetherness, and gave them a fond smile. “I assure you my dear, that having adored you in spite of that dreadful hairstyle you had in Paris, I would barely blink to see you in a pair of breastacles.”

Crowley blushed at the mention of adoration, sneered at mention of the hair and burst into raucous laughter at the name. “Only you’d think up a proper sounding name for it. Breastacles. Brilliant.” They darted in and grinningly kissed them. “And here I thought you’d appreciate me seeing the world through rose-titted glasses. But, as you wish.”

Aziraphale laughed and beamed at the phrase, taking their hand and lacing their fingers together. “Thank you, dearest. For everything. And especially for sparing everyone that.”

#Good Omens #good omens fanfic #snippet #first line tag #tag game #Pendragyn writes #long post #readmore #ao3 #Ineffable Bastards

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abarbaricyalp · 4 years ago

Note

handholding- 10/12/13

hugs - 34

kisses - 7/13/27

touching - 47

sambucky :)

Buddies, I literally cannot believe I managed to get all of these done without being too repetitive.

Handholding 10: Happily doing everything with one hand if that means they don't have to let go is already posted on my blog and on AO3: ElisabethMonroe: (til i carry you home) Your Hand in My Hand

Reblogging with AO3 links in a second

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Inhale My Soul

(Listen, listen y'all, you don't know how many different universes of them dying and bleeding out in each other's arms y'all aren't reading here. I didn't do that to you. You're welcome)

Coming back felt like dying.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

He could speak.

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

Kiss 13: Frustrated Kiss

Better Than None

“Barnes, you wanna jump in? Any time’s fine,” Sam called out, though the volume wasn’t actually necessary, since he had an earpiece in and Bucky was only a few feet away, leaned on what was left of a building’s wall.

“Nah, you seem to be handling it just fine,” Bucky called back with a nod.

Sam ducked under the robot arm that had been flung at him. “Barnes, I swear, as soon as I get my hands on you--” he threatened.

“Y’know, normally that gets me going but seein’ as you were so anti-giving me a good luck kiss, I don’t know if I believe you anymore.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Sam threw the shield to cut through seven wire-y necks and caught it at degree 355 of its arc.

“It’s just a kiss. Takes two/tenths of a second,” Bucky said.

“I meant this dumbass argument.” Sam jumped out of the way of an electrical charge and Bucky watched it sail dangerously close to his head.

“Damn, maybe I am lucky without you,” he said and didn’t move at all.

“Bucky,” Sam sighed and ripped the head off of the nearest robot.

“Hot. Wish I could show you my appreciation.”

“How does me not giving you a good luck kiss translate you into not giving me any kisses?”

“It only seems fair. You’re putting my well-being at risk. There should be consequences.”

“That’s not how it works! You’re the one not--” Jesus, he didn’t have time to fall for the bait. He freed a mini-EMP from his utility belt and hurled it at the cluster of robots trying to scale the debris that first responders were using as a barricade to the rest of the street. A few seconds later, the robots fell away, powerless and useless.

“I kind of felt that in my arm,” Bucky said.

Sam growled out a huff and stalked over to Bucky. He shoved the front of the shield against his chest a little roughly and leaned in to kiss him, mostly teeth and irritation. The bastard still looked pleased when Sam pulled away.

“Good luck. Now will you please go do your job?”

Bucky grinned, all teeth and victory, and bolted into action.

Kisses 7: Passionate Kiss

Hand holding 13: Linking hands during s**

Bring Heaven to You

Sam swore he could feel Bucky’s mouth all over him. Every inch of his skin felt electric and alive. Frankenstein’s creature surging to life after a bolt of lightning, every nerve and muscle singing at the same time, overwhelming sensation in the best way. Like a freefall that keep him tethered to the mismatched hands clutching at his hips, his ribs, his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, the backs of his knees. Like Bucky couldn’t decide where he should be shocking Sam back to life either.

Bucky dragged his hand down Sam’s side, flat and steady so Sam could feel the golden band on his finger scorching his skin like it was made of fire. Like vows and rings and heavy promises weren’t enough to prove they belonged to each other, like they needed it written in flesh and blood like everything else about their lives.

Hahahaha, no. The rest is on AO3. Link in the reblog

Hand holding 12: Possessive hand holding

A Green Monster, And No We Don’t Mean The Hulk

“Welcome back to the show, Captain America!” a bubbly, young talk show host greeted. Bucky assumed he’d watched at least a few seconds of the program at some point when he was making it his life mission not to leave his apartment, but he couldn’t place her name for the life of him. “And you brought Mr. Barnes with you!” This she said with much less genuine enthusiasm and didn’t seem all that thrilled to have to look away from Sam to address Bucky.

“Well, you know I can’t stay away too long,” Sam said with a friendly smile. He held out his hand and the host took it in both of hers. It was less a hand shake and more an excuse for her to hang onto Sam, it looked like.

Sam and Bucky sat in the cushy seats for guests and, even though they’d already walked through the staging of this whole farce, Bucky was still deeply tempted to take Sam’s seat so he was between Sam and the host.

“So, Sam, last time we saw each other, you weren’t yet Captain America.”

“Funny how fast things like that can change, right?” Sam asked with twinkling eyes. Bucky wondered if the cameras were bolted down and if he could wrench one free even if they were.

“Well, I think it’s still not soon enough,” the host said and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “You’ve always been Cap to us here. You’ve been so vocal about your mission statement as Captain America, so I won’t make you repeat yourself.” Sam nodded gratefully, though Bucky knew he’d repeat his goals and wishes until he ran out of breath if it meant one more person heard them and got inspired. “So I thought we could focus on what’s going on behind the scenes with you. Has anything else changed for you since you’ve been back?”

As if coming back to life wasn’t enough.

“Oh, definitely,” Sam said. “Buck and I just finished flipping a house down by my sister. Y’know, we got decent temporary accommodations--Buck still has his in New York--and staying with my sister again was nice, but there’s nothing like having a house to come home to that’s just ours. No pre-teens stealing all the food outta the fridge immediately after grocery shopping.”

The host laughed along with Sam, though her eyes couldn’t quite keep from flickering to Bucky. “It’s fun that you’re rooming with Mr. Barnes. Does it feel like having college roommates again?”

Sam frowned, opened his mouth to answer, ran through a bunch of diplomatic ways to say what should’ve been obvious but wasn’t because this lady was into Sam. Which, like, Bucky couldn’t blame her for. But he was anyway.

He reached over to grab Sam’s hand where it was picking at a loose thread in his pants. “Actually, it’s more like just living with a partner,” he answered for Sam. “That’s something else that’s changed too, huh?” he directed at Sam. “Turns out, with consistent showers and therapy, he thinks I’m pretty charming.”

Sam frowned again and scoffed. “No, I do not. That hasn’t changed.”

The host laughed again, forced but a decent show anyway. “Sure, we all love a good bromance,” she said.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t,” Sam warned.

“It’s a lot like a bromance, yeah. Just without the B,” Bucky said. “We kind of figured my name had enough Bs to last us for a while.”

“Sam, are you saying--”

Sam sighed and brought his other hand up to the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately. And, yeah, he’s always like this. Some kinda puffed up bulldog or something.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened around Sam’s. “You’re my partner. I’m allowed to tell people that.”

“You don’t ever stop telling people.”

“Can’t blame him,” the host pointed out. Okay, maybe some of the hostility was misplaced, Bucky thought. Only some of it. “How did we not know about this, Cap?” she asked jovially, though Bucky thought she was still a little upset.

Sam shrugged. “Guess it’s not as exciting as superheroing. And cameras keep ending up destroyed,” he added pointedly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the accusation. “Half the places we go could be classified as an active war zone. It’s not always on me that media cameras get crushed under debris or aliens or something.”

“Every single one that catches you touching my face?”

Bucky shrugged.

“So...how long has this been a thing?” the host asked.

“Since before Sam took the shield. It’s actually a package deal. If you want the shield, you have to have me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let out another long suffering sigh. “I’m sorry he’s ruining this interview.”

“Oh, no, I’m about to win an investigative journalism prize, I think,” the host laughed.

“I don’t know how investigative it is when your subject is physically incapable of shutting up,” Sam said, looking over at Bucky with a glare and the smallest pout that made Bucky want to kiss it off of his face.

So he did, holding their interlaced fingers next to their face to hide from the cameras at least a little bit.

Hugging 34: Hugging while grabbing butt

Get Sprung

(Man, I meant to put this in the fr@ story and forgot :/ )

The building came down faster than Sam expected it to. He supposed well placed explosives would do that. What happened to uncertain, uneven dynamite? Why was everything electrical and precise nowadays?

He had no idea how Bucky managed to get Sam and the shield bundled in his arms before the ceiling came down. He didn’t know how Bucky had managed to kick a piece of wall upright and then locked his metal arm to hold the shield in place above them. He had no idea how Bucky knew it’d make the perfect alcove for them. For someone who pretended not to know what math was when AJ asked for help on homework, he was very calculation savvy.

Bucky slowly freed his arm from the straps of the shield. The rubble shifted a little, pressed a little closer, and then stilled again. They both let out a small breath. There wasn’t enough room to lay out totally, or to stand fully, but they weren’t being crushed. Bucky’s arm joined the other around Sam’s waist. Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder and let Bucky’s pulse drum against his cheek for a second.

“Are you grabbing my ass?” he finally asked and Bucky coughed out a startled laugh.

“Yeah, you better hope it’s me and not some darkness monster.”

“Couldn’t blame the monster if it was,” Sam said.

“I gotta make sure it’s still there. Would be a shame to lose America’s ass, y’know.”

Sam shook his head and pulled away from Bucky enough to light up his wristlets. He shook them off and rested them on pieces of concrete and rebar to light the space.

Bucky sank down to the ground, legs bent a little to accommodate the space and Sam followed him down, settling between his legs.

“So, now we wait, huh?” he said, reaching for Bucky’s hands to tangle their fingers together.

“Guess we gotta,” Bucky agreed. “Are you hurt?”

Sam shook his head. There was still a ringing in his ears from the explosion and he was sore from Bucky tackling him out of the way, but nothing felt crushed or cut or broken. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said and then let out a breath at Sam’s arched brow. “I mean it. I’m not playing tough or anything. We got lucky. It came down on us, not sideways into us. I think there’s something lodged between the plates in my arm, but I don’t want you to do anything about it until we’re safe. It’s functional right now. I don’t need to be down an arm if we have to dig out.”

“We’re not gonna have to dig out,” Sam said. “Torres’ll track Redwing to us.”

“How’s your dumb robot?”

Sam reached for a wristlet and navigated to the Redwing menu. “Operational. Some exterior dinging, but nothing serious. He’ll be functional if we need.” Sam set the wristlet aside again and sighed. “Fuck, that was close, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. C’mere,” Bucky said, opening his arms. Sam shifted forward on his knees and leaned against Bucky’s chest, hugging him close. “‘M glad you’re okay,” Bucky murmured, lips brushing Sam’s temple.

Sam nodded and rubbed Bucky’s waist for a second. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re grabbing my ass again.”

“I know.”

“Alright.”

Touch 47: Touching their elbow to get their attention

Quiet Birds Circling in Flight

(Jeez, the only thing that came to mind for ages on this prompt involved a spaceship but these men have SEEN aliens and spaceships so that’s not as fun :(((((( )

Sam stood outside the cenotaph long after everyone else had left the service. And that was quite the feat in and of itself. It felt like the mourning could go on for years. There’d been enough tears around him that he wasn’t sure what his own would add to the spectacle.

To everyone else, the cenotaph was a mausoleum. But Sam had been next to Bucky when he told the military to quietly bury him in the cemetery where his parents were both buried. “You know,” Bucky had said one afternoon while they watched the cenotaph being built stone by stone, engraving by engraving, “I’d wager that most mausoleums are just cenotaphs. Grave robbing and reactions to grave robbing mean probably everyone just got moved somewhere safer.”

“Plus decomposition.”

“Well, shit, Wilson. When do you stop being you after death? When does dirt become dirt again? When isn’t it your resting place? Does it even matter where your body is when alls said and done? Is that ever actually you or just a space filler?”

Sam had elbowed Bucky’s ribs and they’d each taken a piece of stone and pretended they didn’t see.

Sam weighed the shield against his shin, knocking it slightly to the side, and then looked up at the stone one ten more feet above his head.

Steve would hate this so much. Sam felt like he could feel his raging blush from the after life. Sam and Bucky had both asked for something more muted, something quieter. Hell, something that would do good for the world Steve was always trying to save. All this money and work and art, for what? A place to take pictures for likes on the internet?

No, Sam had to remind himself, it was a place for memory too.

As much as Sam kind of hated the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that looking up at the effigy of his friend inspired him the same way glancing over at him had in life too. The words wrapping around and around the base of the cenotaph sparked the same intense pride and righteousness they had the first time he heard them.

Maybe he didn’t hate the cenotaph. Maybe he just wanted the real thing back.

He startled at a gentle touch at his elbow. He thought it might’ve been another mourner come to offer condolences, though those mostly went to Bucky when someone was brave enough to approach him. Most people hadn’t looked at Sam twice. Not when Captain America was, in theory, laying in rest thirty feet beyond.

Sam was not in the mood to listen to anyone else talk about the time Steve smiled at them in a cafe or grabbed their cat out of a tree. If he heard his name again, he was going to break down.

But he had the shield now. He had to do the things Steve did. Smile when he didn’t want to. Hide any sign of weakness, lest it reflect poorly on the red, white, and blue he carried now. So he ground his teeth together until his gums ached and turned with a screwed on smile.

But it wasn’t a mourner. Not a random one anyway.

Bucky still had his fingers on Sam’s elbow, a sad look on his face. Dawn was creeping over the horizon and Sam realized with a start and a bloom of despair in his stomach that he’d spent the entire night in the park.

“Think if we wait two more days he’ll shove that stupid stone shield out of the way and come out?” Sam asked, voice wavering like a flag in the wind.

“We would literally never hear the end of it if he did,” Bucky pointed out.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them really meant their jokes.

Sam finally broke down.

He collapsed against Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t until he lost his breath in the middle of a sob that he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. Bucky was crying too. They clutched at each other, both terrified they might drift away, that the other might decide this was too difficult too and go back to something better at the first opportunity.

Sam didn’t even blame Steve. He’d laid awake in the temporary accommodation the government had put him up in and tried to convince himself that if he was in Steve’s shoes, he wouldn’t have saved Riley and stayed in that timeline. But he couldn’t. He knew he would have, almost certainly. And it wasn’t fair to ask Steve to give up a happy, quiet ending after more than a century of fighting and hurting.

But understanding it and accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. “What are we supposed to do, Bucky?” he asked with an irritatingly genuine hiccup at the end of his words.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sounding for all the world like he was grinding his teeth together, trying to pull himself back together. “You have a lot more options than me.”

And it was true. Sam had had a job. The Air Force had reached out since he’d been back stateside. He had a family who missed him, who he missed. But it felt like something heavy and tethering had been locked away in that empty cenotaph. He didn’t want to walk away yet.

Bucky stepped back, kept a hand on Sam’s elbow. “For now, we should get back home. You need to sleep.”

Sam didn’t want to sleep. Everything hurt too much.

“Sam, come on,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.We could both use a few hours of being quiet, right?

Sam reached up to wipe the tears from his face. He had the shield. He had to act like it. “My place or yours?” he asked, still watery.

Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice. “Yours is nicer than mine.”

“And I have a bed.”

“I have a bed.”

“It’s unassembled in a box.”

Bucky squeezed his elbow and then tugged him into a brief hug that Sam was pretty sure they’d never speak of again. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not goin’ nowhere.”

Sam rubbed at his face again and nodded. “We-- We should order in. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked as they walked away.

“I had a better breakfast than you.”

“You didn’t have to give a speech.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t throw up in front of everyone.”

“Shut up, I’m a great public speaker.”

“Sure, Wilson.”

“Screw you, Barnes.”

The dawn bloomed before them.

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #writing #i answer things #the falcon and the winter soldier #prompt answers

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andrewguyspeaks-blog · 5 years ago

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Purpose Will Live Long After SuperHeroes Die: The Power of Purpose Beyond Black Panther!

The immortal power of purpose in action is undeniably the greatest legacy mankind or better yet, superhero can leave behind.

Courtesy: Actor Chadwick Boseman(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times )

Chadwick Boseman dead at 43 and many people are now wondering if there will be a BP2, #blackpanther2. My answer is an emphatic...YOU BET THERE WILL! Even if #WillSmith had to hang up his Fresh Princely robe and assume the role of #BlackPanther, without a doubt, a BP2 will emerge. I mean...you can LOL, but they may call me or you to play BP2. You just never know. But all jokes aside... The #Creator of all things, including humanity, is far too creative to not have a future plan. The death of #chadwickboseman, a brilliant expression of creativity-in-motion is a shock to the millions who adored his work as a professional screen #actor, #speaker and performer.

Consider this scenario: The Misunderstanding Many Face.

Imagine you ordered a hot Domino's pizza on a Friday night as you sat with you boys and or gals waiting patiently for the delivery boy to show up with one slice of your pizza missing...Are you kiddin' Me? Where's that deliver guy? I'm calling TONY! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I WANT MY PIZZA BACK! Wow, wow...Andrew! Straighten up, Squash the beef and Pump your breaks...who is...Tony? BRUH...! Are you serious? I thought this was supposed to be a SERIOUS MESSAGE to the fans of Black Panther superhero, Chadwick Boseman, your follower and blog readers? Now, who the heck is Tony for #FCOL...For Crying Out Loud? Are you saying I'm supposed to just let this go, bro? Oh no! I ordered a full pizza and that's what I expected; not some crummy leftover pizza with a missing chunk and the delivery boy goes mute while standing at the door with his stretched out dry crusty palm, and beady eyes staring at me expecting a tip. I DON'T THINK SO! NO TIP FOR YOU! Bro, don’t you think you are overreacting here? Some would say. My response...I DON'T THINK SO! Playing the devil’s advocate is easier said than done. The fact is, anyone would be upset if that had happened to them, but can you blame me? I mean, who wouldn't be ticked-off, perplexed, and outraged if their expectations were cut short.

Follow me on this, if you will. Imagine the millions of fans waiting for the sequel of movie that started an unforgettable movement, but only to be cut short of knowing #BP2 (Black Panther II) may not even be played by Chadwick Boseman. What a shock to the visual senses and the cinematic experience of reliving Boseman on the giant screen...hypothetically speaking. I'm sure you would. It's called human beings, being human because they have the ability to comprehend what it means to experience the defeat of loss. In case you missed the purpose and meaning of the message during the Columbo-TONY "Case of the missing slice..."

The metaphorical pun from the pizza animated story is that the pizza is no longer complete if part is missing. Even it’s only a slice. I get it, Andrew, you say. I...get it, bro. Maybe you do, but you probably don't. Truth is, some will and some won't. BUT there's still a small chance that the light bulb may turn on for some, and the reality of reading between the lines may kick in speedly after knowing that this conversation goes far deeper than the smell of a hot oven or the taste of a risen crust pizza with your favourite toppings. This is not food for thought. The real message is about life, knowing you are going to die some day, living purposefully, understanding your gift, using your talent to skillfully serve others while making a difference and having a positive impact on the next generation.

It’s about being passionately alive, savouring the meaningful moments as they come, and being able to stand out from the crowd, while fully aware of who you are in this world.

And you say...Andrew E. Guy...WOW! Eureka! OMG! Holy...God, and not the cow!

Andrew, I see it now. Your message is clearly a wake up call to everyone who don't know their purpose for living and those who think they do, but could be doing the wrong life-assignment and living for the crowd.

This is genius. So let me get this right. If I understand this correctly, you are saying #chadwickboseman represents the missing slice of the pizza and while many are hurting because the world will no longer be the same because of Chadwick Boseman's death, the missing slice and a voice in the black community is irreplaceable.

The Black Panther star will be forever missed.

There have been many deaths this year. Consequently, none of which are coincidental. In each of these death, include that of #GeorgeFloyed, should cause us to reflect on our role in life.

This leads me to take stock of all the blessings I currently have despite the difficulties I faced in the earlier part of 2020. This year has shock me to the core. It has been a difficult year for me so far: I lost my dad, and my mom got really sick and was hospitalized for many weeks, but by God's grace she made a full recovery.

Some may call it Knock-on-wood, but I stand on faith believing that time heals all wounds and I'm still hopeful and optimistic of tomorrow and what's to come. We have lost a lot of significant people this year, and my heart goes out to anyone whom have suffered the loss of loved ones in 2020.

To the Boseman family, his friends, colleagues, business associates and the millions of fans around the globe, this is not the end, but the beginning of something much greater than we've seen in decades.

And yes, it's sad and it does hurt to see Chadwick Boseman go but even purpose is time-sensitive. And the quicker we accept that everything happens in its time, the faster will be our recovery from the shackles of old wounds and past traumatic experiences. Time is the master, but the Creator is the regulator. A piece of earth is gone and many have said, that's too soon. But the reality is that even the sports legends and superheroes of our grown-up and childhood dreams must die and go to their perspective places of rest so that new super heroes can take their rightful place in history. Whether you like it or not, we all have to go one day. Some today, others tomorrow....but all one day!

The #goodnews is that the greater part of our legacy lives on...long after the grave.

#ChadwickBoseman will always be remembered, especially for his unforgettable speech on

"The Power of Purpose."

Boseman’s speech is a clear reminder that the most powerful attribute of mankind is the racialization of knowing our purpose in #thecircleoflife, but there's something even greater than knowing.

Any idea what's greater than having the knowledge of something? I'll tell you. It's living that purpose with such passion that others are motivated and inspired by you, but your Creator gets the glory from everything we do. I call this actively pursuing greatness instead of being chased by mediocrity.

In closing, many have said that there are two major moments in one’s life: the day you were born and the day you die.

After pondering these cliches and their temporary meanings, It is clear that there are 3 vitally significant areas of existing: the day when you are granted life.

I call this the gift of life; next is the day when you take action to unwrap your life-gift, discovery your life-assignment (what you were created to do). I call this living; and finally, the greater part of your life and living is the culmination of being ALIVE.

This I call the day when you become aware of who you are, why you are different and so unique from every other creation that you can never be replicated; that one day you will die; that there's only one of you and once your physical time on earth is over, all there is are memories of what you used to be. It is at this time when the cobwebs disappear, the light bulb turns on, your eyes are opened, and your vision, mission and values become so clear that you abandon every other assignments for the purpose and function you were designed to fulfill before you die. Chadwick, you are the missing slice of our global pizza that the world has seen and behold, and will never taste again, but will only relive the flavoursome moments you've created from your expressed creativity. Thank you for stopping by. Rest well my brother. RIP.

About The Author:

Official Website: www.andrewguyspeaks.com Podcast: https://bit.ly/32AyHCN Books by Andrew: Work Your Words | The Anatomy of The Kingdom

Andrew is a bestselling author, best known for “Work Your Words: Finding Your Pathway To Personal Success. He's the host of the Newly Disruptive Podcast “I’M LISTENING I’M READY” ™, a weekly podcast for people and professionals on the go who wants to make positive changes in their lives, where they “LIVE, WORK, & PLAY!”™ ** Sat. @ 10 AM EST

Andrew is a firm believer that "it's not where you start on the track of life, it's how you run the race of living that matters. Through his engaging talks, he inspires executive staff, municipal and city officials, business men and women, developing professionals, school districts, teachers and students, to develop a deeper understanding of purpose, strive to find meaning in all you do, develop skills, improve relationships, know who you are in your area of expertise.

#chadwick #black superheroes #andrew E Guy #Great blog posts on purpose #Know your life's purpose #living your dreams #ILIR-Podcast #positive messages on purpose #death of chadwick Boseman article #motivational blog posts #goodnews is that the greater #sports legends #Black Panther II #Purpose Will Live Long After SuperHeroes Die #The Power of Purpose Beyond Black Panther!#Creator of all things #chadwick boseman

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ademocrat · 5 years ago

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What Homophobic Hell Will the GOP Unleash on a Gay Frontrunner?

If Pete wasn’t gay, I’d say with some confidence, that he could win the presidency.

Or, because Pete is gay, I could say that’s quite a differentiator, and with his impressive approach. he just might win the presidency.

ADVERTISING

Finally, I can’t say that it doesn’t matter that Pete is gay. Because it does, and it’s personal.

I’ve spent my entire life obsessed with politics, and was lucky, as most of you may know by now, to work in it for a while. Presidential elections are like another sport for me. I study the polls, know the candidates’ messages and platforms inside and out, watch the debates, the town halls, and all the political shows filled with punditry, i.e., Morning Joe, Deadline White House, The Situation Room, Inside Politics, and Hardball (I’ll stop there lest you think I don’t have a life). I read all the political columns and columnists.

So, what I’m about to write is not based on data, stats, polls or the pundits, so I don’t bore you with the wonkery of “inside baseball” factoids. The following thoughts come from the heart of a gay man, who happens to write a column, loves politics, and can name every president. Always could. When I was as young as six, my parents would call me down to recite them to guests during their dinner parties. I named them in order and with their middle initials. “You’re going to be president one day,” they always said. And at that age, I dreamed that I would.

Pete’s campaign has rekindled all the memories of my recitations — and scrapbooks — of the presidents. The letter recognizing my great-great grandmother’s 100th birthday auto-penned signed by Richard Nixon. I had the president’s autograph, even if I didn’t realize it wasn’t real. I devoured presidential biographies, written for kids, Meet George Washington, Meet Abraham Lincoln, Meet John F. Kennedy. My great-grandmother gave me her Franklin D. Roosevelt scrapbook, and all her political buttons that stretched back to Theodore Roosevelt. I treasured each artifact, each book, each newspaper clipping declaring “NIXON RESIGNS,” because the presidency was my destiny.

As a Catholic, I was young enough to know and comprehend that John F. Kennedy was the first person of my faith elected to the presidency. I was, and still am, fascinated with all things Kennedy. Which is why, when Senator Edward Kennedy, and President Kennedy’s daughter Caroline endorsed Barack Obama for president, I knew that he would go on to win, and become another first.

Now, here we are again, faced with another pioneer, and groundbreaker, Pete Buttigieg. He is making our community so proud. His message is clear and resonating. His demeanor calm and welcoming. His background stellar and reassuring. His pitch convincing and investing. He’s raising the money and his profile the way a good candidate should.

He has had early success in Iowa, giving him a big boast going forward. He’s come further than probably anyone of us expected. He’s still a long shot, but he is raising eyebrows, in a good way, and now the campaign heads into new regions, populaces, and mindsets.

As a leader in the primary, he has momentum, his poll numbers, while still trailing nationally, are inching up. And as he gains traction he also gets a target on his back. So, the real and new test for Buttigieg is about to begin. So far the other candidates and the media have questioned his youth and inexperience as a small town mayor. And they have not gone beyond those critiques. What lies ahead, if he picks up steam, is an untested excursion, not just for him, but for everyone in our community.

After it was revealed that the congressman I worked for from blue-collar, southwestern Pennsylvania had a child-out-of-wedlock, our constituency shrugged it off. And they did so by telling him, “just as long as you’re not gay (the actual word was much more vulgar).” That stung, and still does.

The congressman used to say to me all the time, “Casey, when I retire, you can run for my seat.” But at that point, my childhood dreams of becoming president gave way to the cold, dark reality, that as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t possibly be elected in a district that didn’t accept the type of person that I was. And president? Would never happen in my lifetime.

Pete’s upcoming venture into the bible belt, the rust belt, the southern belt and beyond makes me wonder if that “as long as you’re not gay” attitude still persists? We saw a viral video of a horrified woman in Iowa rescind her caucus vote for Pete after she realized he was married to a man.

She’s not alone. “Scorched earth.” That’s the type of campaign that’s planned to be run by the Republican incumbent. God only knows what that entails, but I think we have a good idea. This ribald tactic will surely be adopted by the so-called base; a tear-down of anyone seeming to take the lead during the primary, and then vilification for the Democratic presidential nominee.

So what happens if Pete surges? His ascendency will surely test the breaking point of how far “scorched earth” will go to demonize Pete, his marriage and our community. The vitriol likely to increase as Pete’s support does too.

He’s a military veteran, so he can fight. And what does it say about me, or any of us, if we can’t help him in the battle that lies ahead? Isn’t it the most consequential election of our time? Exceptionally for our community? Aren’t we committed to supporting each other when one of us is breaking barriers? Especially, when that wall shattering is for the most powerful job in the world?

He needs all of us to get behind him, in the event that the opposition puts a bulls-eye on him — and us — and goes “scorched earth.” We need to stick together and fight with him. It’s not going to be easy. For him, or for us, if Pete pulls out a miracle.

Is it in his best interest to succeed, when ultimately, he might fail? And what does that say about me when I fear for his success? Or us, if we don’t honestly consider the pain his success might spill upon us? I’m excited for Pete. I’m scared for Pete. I’m excited for us. And I’m scared for us.

But we can’t sit back and be frightened, and we can’t let Pete fight this alone. So until he’s finished, I’ll root for Pete.

There’s an old adage, “bet with your head, not with your heart.” Am I betting on Pete? Not yet. But I am putting my heart behind him. And, I am going to live vicariously through Pete. He will do all that I fantasized about, read about, and pasted onto the pages of my scrapbook about. Maybe, because it was so far-fetched that it’s just my generation that understands the enormity of this moment? We’ve been accepted in the military. Our marriages are legal. It’s easy to think that the worst is behind us, when hypothetically, the worst — or the best — could be in front of us.

Who knows what the impending primary race will bring? And it’s way too early to forecast or confront the general election.

But fantastically, in a year from now, when someone calls on me to recite the 46 Presidents of the United States, I can proudly end my oration with Peter P.M. Buttigieg.

A boy can dream, can’t he?

John Casey is a PR professional and an adjunct professor at Wagner College in New York City, and a frequent columnist for The Advocate. Follow John on Twitter @johntcaseyjr.

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