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queentheweeb · 2 years ago

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Baby Girl

Jake Sully X Female Reader (+18)

A/N: Pure smut, this is from my full story Heart of Gold I have on Wattpad and AO3, and just wanted to post the smut part

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"You don't mind if I steal her for a bit, right?" You recognized the voice as Jake's, leaning back to grin up at him. He didn't spare you a glance yet his gaze focused on Tsireya and Lo'ak who were more than enthusiastic for you to go.

"Take her Mr. Sully, Kentu will keep us company." Lo'ak kept switching his gaze between everyone before falling on his dad with a knowing smirk.

"Take your time, Dad." Jake squinted his eyes but, chose that moment to turn his gaze to you and you weren't prepared. It was piercing, smoldering almost.

"Ready princess." You blinked, nodding your head and turning back around and feeling his arm tighten around your middle and pressing forward forcing you to be aligned with the Tsurak's back. "I got you, sweetheart." The two of you took off straight before making a right.

"Where we going Jakey?" You loved calling him Jakey and it seemed he did too if the way his heart started beating fast was any indication. You felt him lean his face towards your ear, his hot breath fanning over it

"Patience my love." You felt yourself getting flustered with the fact the two of you were alone and he was pressed so close to you. You were getting a little excited too fast. "We are diving, hold your breath." You held onto the arm around your waist and stretched out in front to hold onto his other arm only able to wrap a hand around his thick forearms. The size difference was palpable. When you dived you never could get over how beautiful everything was. The ocean had a beauty that you will always love right behind the forest. You were going a way you've never been before and eventually, he stopped heading upwards. Once you surfaced he used the hold on you to take you off of the Tsurak. "We have to swim a bit more, hold on to me." You nodded, taking another breath and diving with him holding your hand this time, and up ahead you saw an opening him pulling you through it and surfacing on the other side. You took a deep breath looking around

"Wow, Jake." The space was much bigger than you anticipated. There were flowers all over the place and soft moss that grew along the walls and on the ground. It was dark in here a bit but, when Jake reached out to touch a flower, all of the flowers bloomed illuminating the cave in bright colors.

"Come ma Y/N." You allowed him to guide you to the moss where you saw some blankets and food there. It was a picnic. When did he have time to do this? "I found this place a couple of days ago and had discussed with Neytiri what I wanted to do and she told me to go for it." You turned to Jake about to speak but, he swallowed your words with a kiss. He still was holding you by the waist and used his free hand to cup your face. He kissed with a force that was so like him that you gasped but groaned when he massaged your tongue with his own wanting to coax more sounds out of you.

"Jake..." You found yourself breathless when he pulled away, his pupils were blown wide, feeling his hand leave your face to caress down your back.

"I've wanted you for so long Y/N." He pressed another kiss to your lips this one more gentle "Can I have you Y/N? Let me make you feel good." He was gently caressing your back waiting for you to say something and who were you to say no? Especially Neytiri knows about this which means she'll make a move quickly as well.

"Yes, Jake." You knew you were going to have to use your words with him. He looked down at you one more time and with little to no effort picked you up urging you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. In two strides he had your back on the blankets with him hovering over you, eagerly kissing you with you matching his energy.

"Let me eat your pussy. Please, let me taste you." Your breath caught in your throat with his lewd words as he nipped on your ear and placed his lips on your neck kissing and nipping his way down.

"Yes, yes, please-" You were begging already and he just started? He hummed urging you up as he untied your top, taking it off. You fought the urge to cover yourself but, gasped at the feel of his cool saliva on your skin.

"Finally-" He latched onto your right nipple licking and sucking as he toyed with the other one making sure to give both of them equal attention with his hands and mouth. You found yourself playing with his locs and your hips slowly canting up. You couldn't control how good everything felt, you weren't used to it. He was so skilled. Now you know why he and Neytiri have so many kids. "Pay attention to me." He nipped your nipple making you yelp and buck your hips. "Good girl, don't think just focus on how good you feel." He was right and you were going to listen. Eywa knew how much you wanted to listen to him. Once satisfied with your boobs he trailed hot, wet kisses down your stomach reaching your loin cloth where he tapped your hips. You thrusted upwards enough for him to take the loincloth off.

"Jake-" The only thing you can think of saying was his name and before you can do or say anything he had your legs over his shoulders and his hot mouth on your clit sucking and licking. "AH!" You weren't ready for the sudden pleasure bucking against his face and he moaned the vibrations forcing a moan out of you. You couldn't even control your voice if you wanted to.

"Good fucking girl. That's right, come on, keep making those pretty noises for me." He sounded so wrecked and that was just from eating you out. You found yourself closing your eyes throwing your head back and gripping his legs since they were the only thing you can reach. Your tail was wrapped around his flexed arm as he continued eating you noisily and messy. You loved every minute of it. You felt him shift before putting two fingers inside you, curling them, and hitting your G-spot. Your voice went up two octaves

"RIGHT THERE!" You found yourself humping his face and fingers chasing the high you felt building in your lower stomach. "Please, please, please-" You weren't even sure why or what you were begging for.

"My pretty baby doesn't have to beg, just listen to daddy and cum on my face." The praise was doing wonders as you kept humping his face, his mouth, and his fingers keeping the same steady pace. You felt yourself squeezing his fingers as you got closer and closer, your voice high-pitched now

"Going to cum, fuck, Jake-" You felt the knot in your stomach snap as a loud drawn-out moan escaped your lips, unable to control your hips as they humped his face and fingers. He slowed down drawing out your orgasm before pulling away gently but, he kept your legs on your shoulders.

"You taste so fucking good sweetheart." You opened your eyes blearily noticing the mess on his face as he focused on you. The intensity was too much forcing you to look away but, he wasn't having it. "Look at me, baby." You felt him shift downwards, and a hand on your neck forced you to face him as he kissed you. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he mapped out your mouth. He pulled away licking away at the string of saliva. "One more before I fuck you my sweet, can you give me one more? Let me see you fall apart for me." You blinked a bit befuddled until you felt his hand sneak in between your bodies pressing firmly against your clit and rubbing in circles, up and down and sideways.

"Jaaakee~" You tried closing your eyes but, he hummed using his free hand to pinch your hip.

"Don't close your eyes. I wanna see, let me see." That was too much but, you wanted to please him. You knew he got off of seeing you and feeling you be pleased so you tried to keep your eyes open even if they were lidded, moans escaping your open mouth in between pants. So soon after cumming you felt your second orgasm building up faster than you thought. "You're going to cum baby, yeah?" You nodded your head "Use your words beautiful."

"YES, DADDY!" You didn't mean to scream it but, it had the desired effect vaguely feeling something hard press against your thigh.

"Daddy is going to make you feel so fucking good baby, I promise. My beautiful baby girl deserves to feel so fucking good." He felt himself losing it but, he needed you to cum again so he can feel your tight walls on his dick as he fucks you.

"Close, I'm close- Daddy..." You got quiet for two seconds the feeling of your orgasm hitting you unexpectedly a little too much before a yell escaped your throat feeling Jake press sloppy kisses to your throat and wherever else he can reach.

"Atta girl, fuck I can't wait no more." He leaned up taking off his loincloth his dick springing up, dripping with pre-cum. He used his pre-cum to lube himself up before pulling your hips up to line his dick up with you. "I love you ma Y/N." You were about to huff out an answer back when he slid in, in one go making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist. You watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he thrusted slowly

"Jake, please." You felt him move a little faster using one hand to hold your hip and his other hand wrapped around your throat.

"Don't beg, my good girl doesn't have to beg. Daddy is going to give her what she wants." He was done talking letting his dick do the talking. Your mewls, pants, and moans were fuel as he gritted his teeth wanting to prolong your pleasure knowing you were extra sensitive from the two previous orgasms he gave you. He glanced at your braid and said fuck it, he knew you both wanted this. While still thrusting he grabbed his braid from over his shoulder and grabbed yours watching closely the two tendrils entangling together and he was hit with your pleasure, both of you feeling each other. He knew he wasn't going to make it much longer so he forcibly grabbed your legs and pressed you into a mating press and went hard and fast your screams music to his ears.

"CUMMING!" The knot that was slowly building up moved fast from the mix of his pleasure and the rabid fucking. Your third and final orgasm hit you hard that you saw white and through the bond, you felt him painting your walls white giving a few rolls of his hips to empty himself. Once he was sure he was done he rolled to lay down on his back and pull you to lay on top of him. The two of you panted softly taking in each other's scent and enjoying the peace.

"I meant what I said, I love you ma Y/N." You felt him press a soft kiss to your forehead smoothing back your messy and sweaty hair. You both need to wash up and eat but, that can be done later.

"I love you too ma Jake... so much." He hummed, feeling the purr reverberate through his chest to you. Nothing more needed to be said between the two of you, you were bonded now and it was one of the best decisions you made.

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Part of my Heart of Gold Story! It's not published yet this part since there is a lot of world-building I'm doing.

#jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully fluff #dom jake sully #jake sully x na'vi reader #jake sully x fem!reader #Jake Sully x female reader #avatar smut #avatar #awotw

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alfalfapie · 1 year ago

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Trick or Treat

So maybe they were being a little over the top about this. On second thought, they were being WAY over the top on this. Not that he cared. See, growing up, Halloween had never been Dean's favorite time of year. It simply reminded him of how different he was from other kids. Other kids didn't know that the things they dressed up as were real. That ghosts, vampires, and werewolves could strike at any moment, ESPECIALLY on October 31st. So instead of running around a cul-de-sac begging strangers for candy, Dean had to watch his little brother in some rundown motel while John went and caught the monster of the week. And once Sammy got old enough to know what Halloween was, all night would just be filled with him whining to know why they weren't allowed to trick-or-treat like the other kids. The only time they ever got to go was when Dean was 10 and they were staying at Bobby's. Sammy ate so many Reese's cups he was up half the night sick, so it wasn't that much fun anyways. But this year was different. Cas was back from the Empty, Jack had reverted to a body that looked more like he actually was born in 2017, and everyone he loved was living under one stable roof. Plus, he and Cas had just adopted a baby girl, coincidentally named Charlie. She was just over 9 months old and was already the light of Dean's life. And Dean had big plans for her first Halloween. Charlie was not going to grow up hating Halloween like he did. She was going to dress up as whatever the hell she wanted, eat as much candy as she wanted (preferably less than 6 year old Sammy), and enjoy Halloween. But for now, she couldn't do any of that. So they were going to do the next best thing. Cas had seen a Tiktok of a mom carving a big pumpkin to serve as a baby seat. So, when they went out grocery shopping that week, they HAD to get a pumpkin to try it out. They spent an embarrassingly long time measuring pumpkins against their 9-month-old until they found the perfect gourd. When they got home, Jack already had his Halloween costume on (it was a Batman kit from Amazon and he'd refused to take it off ever since it had arrived), so it was the perfect time for a little Halloween festivities. Cas started carving the pumpkin while Dean went to go put baby Charlie in her costume. It was a simple orange onesie with a pumpkin hat, but it took longer than he'd like to admit to get it on. Charlie was particularly bothered by the elastic that attached the hat to her head, so it took a little coaxing to get her to leave it alone (he may or may not have started singing monster mash in an effort to calm her down). By the time Dean carried Charlie back into the main room, Cas was almost done with the pumpkin chair. Jack was helping (at least he said he was, but "helping" looked an awful lot like playing with the pumpkin guts). Miracle came running up to him, and it looked like someone had already put her in her Robin costume. Her little green eye mask was impressively staying put (Dean later found out Sam had spelled it on). Miracle barked at Dean, obviously annoyed to have her costume on, but Dean just patted her head and walked over to the map table. "It looks great," Dean said, wrapping his free arm around Cas's waist. "You almost ready for the picture?" Cas turned the pumpkin to face Dean, proudly displaying his handiwork. "Let's do this." In the end, it took almost an HOUR to get the pictures taken. Either Miracle was running off, Jack was fidgeting, or Charlie was crying. And trying to get all three of them to look in the same direction was a fool's errand. But once Charlie was down for a nap and Jack was playing with his trucks, Cas and Dean took some time to look at their camera roll. And it was exactly what Dean had wanted; Charlie and Jack were both smiling, blissfully unaware that Halloween could be something bad. They both looked happy, and that was all he could ever ask for. Happy Halloween, y'all. :)

#destiel fluff #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #dean and cas #castiel #deancas #dean x castiel #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #happy halloween #trick or treat

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pelleas-at-castle-nox · 1 year ago

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Witch's Brew/Baker's Delight

Udon was a ferret who ran a rather successful Bakery on the campus of a magical institution, a rather upstanding member of his community, even if he did happen to moonlight as a witch with the local coven. It was after hours, his store front converted into a temporary venue as the tables were all decorated with fancy table clothes to host a little tea party. Guests weren't scheduled to arrive for another few hours, but being the perfectionist he was, all the work had been finished already, and he didn't have much else to do but sit there and scroll his phone hoping someone would show up early.

Soft clinking of metal heralded the arrival of a feline knight, a resplendent suit of silver inlaid mythril armor accenting a slim fighter's figure. Her paws, both hand and feet, were uncovered, though a discerning eye would see that the magical protection offered by the armor extended even to those extremities, even her cute long tail that marked her not as a pure cat, but a feline vulpine hybrid. Atop it all was a hat, a large ostentatious hat more logically associated with a wizard than a knight, but which also seemed inlaid with magical protection.

She was also overbearingly nervous, paw continuously trying to obviously reach for a sword which seemed to be conspicuously missing from her ensemble. She sat down at the opposite end of the table armor clattering audibly. If she had hoped to be stealthy, she had failed miserably.

The red and pink ferret was firmly juxtaposed off the small knight, possessing a welcoming and inviting chubby figure, complete with a heart printed yellow apron. He didn't know exactly why this jittery knight had sat down at his table, but he had nothing better to do so he quietly slid a plate of cookies closer. "Hey, you want some tea? Or a biscuit or something?" Despite his best efforts, some concern did bleed through his voice.

The comforting tones of the ferret seemed completely lost on the cat who looked like she'd have jumped out of her skin from the jolt she gave, and probably would have if not for her armor. "T-Tis I! Um, I mean, I'm Conrad, agent to His Imperial Majesty Glenn, responsible for the deaths of between 230 and 400 people in the 17th age of the Demesne." Her feline eyes vibrated with intensity as she looked down at the plate of cookies, paw twitching as she resisted the urge to take one. "Excuse me, sir. Are you by any chance... a witch?"

Udon had started tuning the knight out when it became apparent that she wasn't really going to be a good conversational partner, mentally going over his checklist one more time as he nodded along. "A witch? Yeah yeah..." He was technically a part time witch, but he was licensed and all, so he hardly saw how it mattered. Reaching over and grabbing a lovely tea pot, an equally lovely tea cup was filled. He took a moment to let it cool before taking a sip, frowning at the surprisingly bitter taste. No comment was made on the way his body seemed to visibly swell from just one taste. He reached over to a small ceramic jar and removed the lid, sighing as he saw its empty nature. "This shit has no sugar, and Sparky ate all the sugar cubes, is that cool with you?"

Conrad recoiled in fear and disgust, for this is truly...

Steeling her composure as best she could, the anxious knight nodded as another teacup began to be filled. "Y-yes, that will be fine. As a Knight, if I take tea at all, it is without sugar…" Relaxing just a bit as she realized she'd not alerted the witch into defensive action, she chose to take a subtle approach and coax the damning information out of her. She knew she'd have absolutely no choice to partake of this devil's fair, really there was simply no way to avoid eating some of these cursed food items, none at all if she were to complete her mission. "Ahem... Now, pardon me for asking, but do you regularly hold council with imps and other such demons, perhaps meeting for tea and to practice illegal dark magic?"

Something within the kind and patient ferret snapped at the question, and in that moment his patience was lost. "Look dude, do you want a biscuit or not?" He'd put in all this effort to lay out a fine spread for anybody looking to unwind after a hard day, and here this cat was harshing the vibe so spectacularly!

Conrad's eyes darken in fear, and her ears pin back in shame. The Emperor's most trusted agent has found a witch for whom she is no match. He evades even her most cunning inquiries with ease, and the brazen air with which she admits her heresy shows she fears neither man nor God. She cannot win, and defeated, she relents. "A... biscuit would be lovely, thank you."

A smile finally crossed the Ferret's face once again as he picked up a cookie and threw it across the table, effortlessly landing it right on the knight's waiting tongue. "Bitchin~" Horrified by the sudden display of perceived violence, her first instinct was to remove the cookie from her mouth, and yet she found such instincts overridden as her jaws slowly worked to mash up the buttery delight, delicious cream spilling out from between two layers of baked goodness. The flavor was more than she could handle, and like a starving beast, she let instincts truly take over, her paws shoveling the full plate of biscuits into her muzzle, washed down with the tea when she began to struggle to get it down.

Udon's brow raised, but he made no moves to stop the hungry knight, and even poured her an extra cup of tea to follow the first as he watched her face and hands begin to soften rapidly. "You sure you don't wanna take that pretty armor off? Are you on duty? Probably shouldn't be partaking of a witch's brew on duty."

The casual taunt forced an extravagant moan from the cat, who shook her head languidly. "N-never fear good sir, this armor's designed to withstand any manner of barrages, from within or without. It would take a truly catastrophic occurrence to wrench it from my b-uuuurrrrff... BAH!" Her protests were interrupted by a rumbling belch, and all at once the breastplate of her full mail burst off, a cascading gut bouncing free. A horrified meow reverberated, and Udon reached one thick paw up into the air, catching the sailing breastplate before it could fly off into the distance and wreck even a piece of his carefully planned Decor. He smiled brightly as he watched his handiwork, coming around behind the cat and beginning to fiddle with the straps on the rest of her armor. "I was just lamenting the lack of a center piece, I think you'll do nicely~" The tea pot was hefted up off the table, and after an experimental testing of the heat, which was indeed cool enough to drink from, the spout of the pot was placed in the knight's lips, tipped back, and poured freely into the dazed knight, who only grew larger.

Today's entry was based off the legendary OPEN RP between tumblr users slappycat and kirkegarde, neither of whom I will be tagging but I will put a link to said legendary text post because I think it's really funny and everybody should see it at least once.

#feedist kinktober #weight gain #magic weight gain #Ferret #catfox #clothes bursting #fat furry #conrad #udon

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damiano-mylove · 4 years ago

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Members of Måneskin with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Illnesses included: Depression, ADD, Tourette's and PTSD (so warnings for that and SH, drug usage, isolation, and heavy topics in general) *Masterlist*

This was a collaborative effort between Nik, Lina, Lute and two unnamed but very appreciated people - all of us afflicted with the varying illnesses above

Vic

Vic would take an empathetic approach to your illness/disorder (relating to you, researching, never pitying)

Depression

Vic would take a more of a nurturing role to your sadness

On the more sad days, Vic would nap with you for a little bit but she'd get to a point where enough would be enough

She would coax you out of bed in ways that appeal to you more than you'd ever care to admit, starting out with just getting you to eat somewhere else than in bed, then eventually moving up to showering, etcetera, etcetera

Vic would be very acutely tuned toward your needs, and she always fulfilled

It broke her heart that you were so sad, but she could relate and that made it a lighter burden on your back

When you first told her, Vic just went silent, then hugged you for a long time

ADD

Vic wouldn't be as supportive in this, but not in a neglectful way

She had a way of getting your attention back on the topic at hand, but sometimes she was just as bad as you for getting away from the main point

The impulsivity, she wasn't the biggest fan of, but you two worked through it like adults

When you'd forget things, Vic wouldn't get annoyed - but she would always remind you when you forgot what you needed to remember

Also, she was the best for finding misplaced things

PTSD

Vic would be very careful to avoid your triggers, however she never felt as if she was walking on eggshells

Before you were able to fully tell her what happened, Vic would never force you to tell her anything you weren't already ready to tell her of your own accord

There was no way she couldn't feel a bit sorry for you, but she never showed it, and she certainly didn't pity you - she just was sorry that something happened to you to give you PTSD

She would be mindful to never act as if she would be able to fix you

Tourette's

It didn't annoy her as much as you thought it surely would - especially since you had been trying to keep the tics at bay in the beginning of your relationship

Vic usually went on like nothing happened when you'd tic, but sometimes she'd laugh if your tics would hit her

Vic would proudly go out with you, even though you were scared about the looks you'd get on the street, but she never minded because she loved you and she wanted to show you that she loved you

Thomas

Thomas would take a supportive approach to your illness/disorder (reminding you to take your meds, making appointments for you if you'd ask, doing anything he could to make you feel better)

Depression

Thomas would always be the perfect person who would just shut the fuck up and cuddle you, but he would only do it if you'd ask because he knew sometimes you didn't feel like being around people

Wasn't really trained in any of this so he just cared for you like he'd like to be cared for

He was doing his best, and it was apparent, but sometimes you'd have to tell him what not to do and what to do

Of course, Thomas wouldn't bat an eye to stop or start doing anything at the raise of your finger - whether it be rub your back or let you be alone for a bit

He understood that he alone could not cure your depression, but he understood that he would be around for the ride, if you would have him

When you first told Thomas, he was silent, just nodding. He asked you a few very respectful questions but would never dream of pushing you. He would rub your knee and assure you of his love for you, no matter what

ADD

Honestly, Thomas didn't know what ADD was, at first

He googled it, then thought better to just ask you for a primary source

During nights where you couldn't sleep, Thomas would be right beside you, not sleeping either, which wasn't healthy for either of you, but it sure as Hell made you feel less lonely

Thomas lost shit and things all the time, so he never judged you for that, and his memory was potentially worse than yours so who was he to speak on that

But he was extremely good at getting you to finish tasks before moving on (sometimes just finishing them himself)

PTSD

Again, didn't exactly know what it entailed at first, but asked you a few questions to clear the air

Thomas would lead you through deep breathing exercises (unless you told him not to) when you were triggered and started losing control

Would always do anything and everything he could to avoid triggers with you

He would he more than patient with you

Tourette's

He would find some of your tics endearing (not harmful ones)

At one point, you'd even developed a verbal tic saying Thomas' name, which he always chuckled at and responded to you every single time as if you'd requested his presence, each time with a new pet name and a smile

If your tics would hit him by accident, you would apologize profusely, but Thomas would always laugh and brush it off

During tic attacks, he knew to just let you be, unless you would stop breathing, then he would certainly step in

He would ask his doctor a "hypothetical" about how to help someone through a tic attack, then used that advice forevermore, and it usually made a helpful difference

Ethan

Ethan would take a companion role (letting you take the lead, showing him what would happen and what to do to help, always listening to you before making his own move)

Depression

He'd dealt with depression before, but thoroughly understood that everyone is different in how they display mental illness

Ethan would recognize what to do, but would ask you for confirmation before acting upon anything that had potential to make a difference

On days where you couldn't leave your bed, he would bring you food (not a steak dinner, but he would definitely bring you soup or toast or a sandwich)

On days where you couldn't shower, he'd either be in the shower with you, or he'd draw you a bath instead, or he'd buy dry shampoo and sanitary wipes (those would be the last case, because he didn't want to throw off your pH)

He would assure you of his love and that you didn't burden him whatsoever

You were suffering, and you didn't make him suffer, but he did take some of that suffering from you

ADD

Certain times, I regret to say, he may get slightly annoyed, but not for long and not to the point of icing you out or anything

Ethan always found things to keep your mind occupied (watching Monty Python (actually a great programme for AD(H)D people), intricate games, new books, etc)

The best at finding lost things, and also has the best memory under the sun

Your symptoms wouldn't bother Ethan, save for constantly speaking (which can get a little annoying during a film or something)

PTSD

Would basically just go one with life - he would avoid all things relating to your triggers and PTSD - but otherwise, it would be business as per usual

If you got triggered, he would be by your side and on your side

He would do anything; deep breathing, distractions, grounding, getting your meds, anything

Ethan would always let you speak about it, when you'd want to, but otherwise treated you the exact same way as he had before you told him

Tourette's

He's always looking for something to joke about, and sometimes your tics provide just the material

He wouldn't dream of taking the piss out of the harmful or mean tics, but if you were laughing, then he was sure to be laughing as well

If your tics involved a bird whistle, he'd call you his 'little red bird' but wouldn't anymore if that upset you

Tourette's are a tough subject to joke about, but Ethan would always listen if you told him it was offensive, unfunny, or just a bad joke and Ethan would always take it in good humour and apologize

Most of the time though, he could make some funny fucking comments

Damiano

Damiano would take a nonchalant approach (not explicitly talking about it, never take the spotlight off you (if he could help it), try his best to help you through any challenges without making you feel like you were an inconvenience to him

Depression

He was your best friend before he was your lover

As such, you were always able to talk to Damiano about your depression anytime you felt it getting bad, as to warn him

Damiano would never leave your side, unless you told him to, but he'd always have a film on in the back, or he'd play with your hair, or distract you by brushing your hair or having you help him pick out an outfit

He enjoyed cleaning, so your bedroom would never become a depression room, and that helped get you out of your slumps most of the time

Dami was also swimmingly good at getting you up, even if it be just for a dance in the moonlight then back to bed, or a walk around the block then on the couch

He understood wanting to cope, but if you were prone to drug usage, Damiano would totally discourage it and stop you from using as best he could

ADD

Not everyday is a trip to Disney, but with Damiano, it is

Damiano always had new records to catch your fancy, he'd always have some home project lined up for the two of you, he'd always let you do extravagant things with makeup on his face

It seemed if you lost something, Dami would find it, but if Damiano lost something, you would find it (good system actually)

Would always have reminders in his phone so he would add reminders for you on his phone (appointments, birthdays, events)

Damiano seemed to always have just the trick to get you to sleep, even when you felt like you physically couldn't

PTSD

After you told him, Damiano would immediately avoid the topic in future conversations

He would support you fully during any trigger or episode, but he never treated you any differently at all just because you have PTSD

It hurt him that something hurt you so badly, but he took it all in a deep breath - after all, he signed up for you, all of you, so he certainly wouldn't give up on you just because of a disorder

Damiano would be in your corner 100%, and you knew it and you knew you could always go to him

Tourette's

Some tics would get that beautiful smile on his face, but otherwise he continued conversations like nothing ever happened

He didn't bat an eye at a physical tic, not a verbal tic

But he was the man to go to during a tic attack

He wouldn't treat you like a science experiment, or like an insane asylum patient - he treated you with love and support, like no one else ever had

Damiano had read about a dozen books on how to support people with Tourette's, and he'd also talked to other people he knew who had Tourette's - Damiano was thoroughly educated on how to help you, the love of his life

headass this was hard to fuckin write and i know its shitty and the cw’s are a bunch and i cut it but im sorry and hope its good enough

#maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #fanfic #damiano david fanfiction

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shin-di · 2 years ago

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To emphasis how much I write, I have decided to make a post of a contest entry I made for an Amino event a while back. I hope you enjoy it ^^

Word Count: 4,641

Character count: 25,973

It was a silent night riding down the sea of stars, time seeming to flow as slow as the spirits boat. The chilly night breeze bit away at his cheeks of the ferryman, yet the many years he spent on the seas had left him accustomed to such winds. He found comfort in the cooling breeze, yet not even that could coax the cloud of unease that loomed over his head like a brewing storm. His gaze scanned his boat, once again his eyesight skewed onto the silhouette of a girl who leaned against the boat's low railing.

He had picked her up close to midnight, just as he was about to close for the night. She came like a phantom, silently creeping up vastly from behind him. Her soft, hushed voice sounded like nothing more than a whisper of the wind. Dressed in a cloak of black with a hood fastened tightly onto her head, she asked the spirit for passage to the land of sloths, offering double the payment in hopes that she could get there before dawn.

The spirit complied with her request, running her down the basic rules of the boat as he sailed from his harbor and into the sea of stars, the hum of the paddles of his boat filling the eerie silence.

A strange grip of unease had tensed his mind as he sailed into the night, such emotions rising when he stole a glance of the girl, who did nothing but sit there, as still and as silent as a statue with a hand submerged in the freezing waters. He had no idea why, yet his intuition warned him of her, sensing some feeling of doom radiating from the girl. An emotion unprovoked, yet potent. The spirit would criticize himself for allowing such thoughts to creep up on his consciousness, yet they still lingered, screaming from the back of his head.

He attempted to strike a conversation with the girl, a bit of small talk to dismiss his woes and worries. Yet, not to his surprise, she wasn't much of a talker;

"What brings you to the Land of Sloths?"

"Business,"

"What kind of business"

"Negotiation,"

"Interesting- How's that going for you?"

"Difficult"

"Sorry to hear that... What are you trying to negotiate?"

"Claims to land,"

"Oh! Are you looking to wrangle land in the realm to live on?"

"One could say that,"

The spirit had no idea what such a reply was meant to insinuate, yet he didn't bother to ask. Her curt, dry replies were impossible to continue from. He had a more engaging conversation with a boulder than with the girl. So he never bothered to press for further details, knowing that in the end, it would all lead to the same awkward silence.

Once again, the hum of the boat's ores began to dominate the quiet, and the spirit was about to turn away to check on the fuel stocks when suddenly, the phantom-girl spoke, her crab-call voice soft, yet piercing through the sound of the ferries ores.

"Is it true that the Land of Sloths is ruled by a lousy elder?"

The spirit jerked up at the question, his eyes wide with shock! She spoke! She started a conversation! What a surprise! It took the ghost a moment to process such a miracle, but when he did, he nodded explaining; "Most don't even consider him an elder. He doesn't assume the role of one, he just sombers about in his throne room, drinking and eating to his heart's content. Especially with the spread of darkness plants popping up throughout the realm. He hasn't done much to control or put in efforts to limit the spread. His alcoholic behavior has done worse for the kingdom. Word has it that he's become so much of a drunkard, that the guards need to prop him up to keep him from slouching over his own throne,"

"And the darkness... Has it spread far?" The girl had asked, her voice almost inaudible as she hunched herself closer to the edge of the water, gently sloshing her hand in the reflecting waves.

"Yes but not very far," the spirit would respond, "the locals are trying to keep the plants at bay, yet they always come back, growing bigger than before. They're trying everything, uprooting, burning, poisoning, even going as far as to take out chunks of land and replacing it with new soil, yet nothing works" he would sigh, shaking his head slowly with disappointment.

She had fallen mute as the boat pressed on. Her attention seemed focused solely on the sea of stars and the cool water that engulfed almost her entire forearm.

Quietly, the crew drew closer and closer, an island coming into sight just as the dawning sun began to creep from the horizon, casting the landmass as a dark black shadow against the red and orange skies.

As the spirit pulled into the docks, he noticed a figure waiting by the pier, their heads moving to focus on the girl as she lifted herself, slowly making her way to the ferryman. Reaching from within her pockets, she held out a small pouch, one that sagged with the weight of gold coins that jingled from within. "Thank you," She replied, handing the boater his reward.

The spirit nodded his head in thanks, reaching to take the pouch. It was there that he saw it, the horrific state of her arms.

Her fingers were sharp like claws, her skin tainted a dark raven black. The darkness that immersed her arm seemed to stretch upwards, yet he wasn't able to see how far it spread, as her arm was still covered by her robes.

Fighting to hide that horror in his expression, he plastered a weary smile as he took the bag in his palm, watching as the girl bowed her thanks before turning to leave to join with the one who awaited her by the docks. "Good luck with your business," he called out, his forced irrational enthusiasm was almost impossible to miss.

The Ferryman watched as the group walked, with his passengers being flanked by her waiter. The feeling of dread only grew deeper within him as the spirit pulled himself and his vessel, from the island's dock, headed back in the direction from which he came. As he sailed the seas back, he couldn't help but once again wonder, "What was it that spooked him so much?"

══《✧》══

As the dawning lights of the sun became the golden glow of the morning, the group of two traveled in quiet tranquility quickly weaving their way through the land. It was only the phantom-girl who lacked behind her friend, looking around and admiring the overgrown beauty of the land.

Flowers of vibrant pinks and purples stood proud and blooming, growing as tall as the girl. The morning dew that clung onto their delicate petals bounced the morning light off them in a playful array of light. The trees stood like giants, wrapped up in vines and ivory while their branches hung limp and droopy, creating curtains of luscious emerald leaves. The bushes that laid scattered about the floor bore small bright berries that were glossed in rain droplets, their citrusy scent lingering in the air like a silky, yet intoxicating perfume.

Though she fought the temptation, she couldn't help but pluck a handful of berries from the brush, popping them into her mouth and basking in the ripe, fruity taste that exploded in her mouth. As she walked with her comrades, the girl would now and again, pluck a handful of nature's goodies before suddenly coming to a stop, seeing something that sent a chill crawling down her spine.

A bud of darkness bloomed from a bush, small and round, yet glowing bright with that eerie blue light. Those small dark orbs seemed to slowly replace the plant's fruit, affecting its structure as well as its gifts. The lush leaves turned into thick black leaflets. Its branches, which were once strong and smooth, were thin and laced with thorns sharper than obsidian blades.

"Isn't it beautiful? Your blessing spreads its influence. Can you see it now? A forest of darkness, doesn't that just sound so... possessing?" The voice that spoke from behind her only deepened the frown that spread across her face. Such a soothing voice spoke honeyed words, ones that barely managed to sway the Phantom-girl's thoughts.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, " She replied, able to envision the scowl of her comrade from her words alone. " This island has such a beautiful and diverse ecosystem, I don't want to ruin this realm..." The girl spoke softly, her voice edged with uncertainty and hinted with fear as to how her opinion might be taken.

Much to her surprise, his voice wasn't angry, nor filled with distaste as he began to speak: "What will you be ruining? You're a gift brought into this world. You can bring the charm to this realm no one has ever seen. It will morph this land into a united world, one where darkness and light can coexist peacefully. A world where no one will be shunned for what they are, regardless of how they came to be. Isn't that what you wanted? A place where you don't have to hide? A place where you will be loved for your gift, and not rejected? " His voice was easy and relaxed, alluring the girl into a state of ease as he reached for her arm. Carefully, with the most gentle of touches, he guided her arm up, allowing the sleeve to slump down and expose the darkness that consumed her entire arm. "What we do is for the greater good, Lilith, there is always a sacrifice one must make to achieve their goal. Our goal is noble, but it will take a lot of effort for us to achieve the greatest of glories. Do not be afraid, trust in me when I say that it will all pan out for the better,"

His words coaxed her stresses from her, placing her into a trance of agreement. "It will all pan out for the better..." She repeated dully, echoing the words that weren't her own. "Yes, it will," She affirmed to herself slowly, buying into the sweet promise of her colleague. Slowly Lilith reached down her hand to touch what little green was left of the bush. The color drained from the plant that moment her fingertips rested upon its surface, the bright vivid greens drained into a deep, vivid black, laced with streaks and hints of a vibrant blue. The transformation was beautiful, yet the product was eldritch. Though she could hide it, the girl wouldn't shake off her guilt, instead, concealing it behind the shadows of her hood.

"Good," He would say, the smug pride in his voice allowing Lilith to envision his twisted smile at her compliance. "Now come along, we have wasted enough time, I want to face the elder before mid-meal," He commanded, his arm, which rested draped across the Forest-Child's shoulders, pulling her away from her creation and guiding her forward, continuing their trek once more.

══《✧》══

The duo found themselves standing in the capital of the magnificent island. If you thought the nature was gorgeous, then the city was tenfold of its beauty. The city was where sky-kind met nature, forming a beautiful balance to create a natural eutopia. The stone houses built on the forest floor were covered in blankets of greenery, reclaimed by nature with heavy layers of moss and shrubbery as proof of ownership. Yet that never deterred the people, who moved up the canopy of the trees, balancing their homes atop the thick, sturdy branches of the trees, or hung their homes by thick unbreaking vines that dangled from the trees. Shops rested on the forest floor, built beneath the roots of the mighty evergreens. Streams of crystalline water cascaded from gutters carved from bark, pouring into channels of waters that all lead into a vast lake, located in the center of the capital. And within the lake, rested a mighty castle. Its pale gray stones were engraved with patterns. Unkempt vines claimed the walls, while smudges of stucco stains tainted what was meant to be its pristine condition.

The two hopped atop a tourist boat, riding the still waters to the temple of the lake with a group of eagerly waiting moths, all who wished to tour the temple of the Land of Sloth.

Lilith sat quietly aside her partner in a poorly cushioned booth, leaning over the low-hanging rails with her hand submerged in the refreshing water. She sloshed her hand about in the lake, her mind lost to thought as she sat there. Yet even the soothing feeling of the rushing waters between her fingers couldn't soothe her stress. Was she really about to do this? What if something were to fail and she were to be caught? What a story that would be; A former Forest scholar, not nothing more than a criminal committing Treason- She shivered at the thought of what kind of punishment would await her.

Her ally noted her stress, a low chuckle arising from his throat to see the girl on edge. Leaning a hand over and placing it on her shoulder, he delivered a small squeeze, one that grounded the girl back into the present. "Do not be afraid Lilith, we will be fine," He reassured with a low whisper, audible to her and her alone.

The girl, in return, nodded her head, yet never gave a verbal reply, her sights still locked onto the rippling water as the boat's steer broke through the flat, reflecting surface of the emerald lake. 'We will be fine' she repeated to herself in the silence of her mind, chanting the phrase as if it were some life-saving prayer. 'We will be fine, we will be fine'

In due time, the boat would pull into the harbor, allowing the passengers to dismount with ease. The duo would stick close together, constantly at arm's length away from one another. As the crowd of giddy tourists approached the door, they were greeted with two stone-faced guards, both of who blocked the door by bringing down their spears before the group as they tried to slip through the door.

"No visitors," One's gruff voice would say, their piercing gaze scanning the disappointed faces of the travelers, who all seem so excited to come. "Turn around and boat back, no one is allowed to enter. Elder's orders," His swift command sent most of the Skylanders sulking back to the boats. Yet only two figures stayed still, waiting for the others to leave before approaching once more.

Unamused, the guards would glare upon the cloaked figures, once again barking out his warnings, his tone harsher than before.

"Step back, no visitors are permitted within the temple. We won't hesitate to remove you by force," the man would threaten, his voice low yet hostile, melting away Lilith's calm and collected composure into a shy, borderline nervous one.

Her colleague, however, never once did back down, remaining where he stood as he cleared his voice and spoke to the men. "We come bearing news vital to the Elder and his Realm. We know who started the spread of the Darkness and we have a way to stop it," he would announce proudly, puffing his chest out in satisfaction as their stony complexion crumbled into astonishment.

Both men cast one another confused glances, their silent exchange heavy with confusion and unease. It often flickered back to both of the hooded strangers, their doubt doubling as they examined both their ragged shape. "And who exactly are you two?" One guard would ask as the other began to prod Lilith with the dull end of his spear.

"This lovely lady is Lily, a scholar of the Forest who has spent her life studying the darkness and its effects" her comrade would explain, gesturing towards Lilith in a slightly dramatic manner. "And I am Erebus, a Wasteland Warrior assigned to keep Lilith safe until she returns to her realm," he would finish, his tone as proud and as mighty as ever, despite the dishonesty of his words

Their fabricated alibi seemed enough to slip past the watchmen's skepticism as they slowly, with ever-doubtful gazes, raised their staffs, opening a narrow path from which both would walk down.

Lilith felt a rush of relief crash over her, washing her free of the stresses that tormented her mind mere moments ago. Yet such hopefulness would be crushed as she came to see those same to guards trailing close behind, closing in onto the two until she stood less than a foot length behind them. Their hardened gaze burned holes into the back of her skull, yet she was too anxious to dare turn to confront their stares. She instead distracted herself by taking in the surroundings of the old structure, her gaze scanning the temple as Eberus led her forward.

The castle was oddly empty, void of all semblance of life. It seemed like no one had walked through the empty corridors for years, judging by the thick layer of dust that blanketed the few cushioned chairs that lay sprawled about the marble floor.

The only proof of life that kept Lilith from thinking that the castle were the empty bottles of wine that laid askew across the floor. They emanated the stench of bitter wine, one that laid heavy in the air, radiating from the stained purple carpets and faded tapestries that adorned the walls.

It wasn't long before the group found themselves standing before the doors of the throne room. Or at least, what they thought was the throne room, judging by the two huge tapestries that flanked the door, captured an image of a stone crown laying perfectly atop the head of an elder.

Erebus pushed the doors open without a shred of hesitation, unflinching as they flung open and landed against the wall with a boom.

Light poured into the dimly lit halls like a wave, revealing a stone gazebo that stood amidst an open court, one that laid to waste to overgrown shrubbery. Weeds sprouted from the cracks in the pavement, the roof laid broken, cracked from the weight of the plants that grew atop it. Even the gazebo wasn't spared any mercy, with moss claiming land all over the stone in bright vivid ploches that stood out like sour thumbs against the pale beautiful stone.

Yet the poor condition of his garden didn't seem to bother the elder, who was seen lingering in the shade of his gazebo. The tall, lanky being laid lazily on a velvet cushion: in his hand, a stone goblet from which he drank, and on his head, a lackluster crown, resting crooked upon his flowing lock of snow-white hair. The elder in question turned with the sounds of his doors being opened, casting a drunken glance over his shoulders to his unexpected visitors. "If you are a diplomat, leave me be. I have no wish to be bothered with the matters of other realms, " he dismissed, slowly returning his formal position.

"And what if we are not? What if we hold the key to saving your kingdom from devastation?" Erebus would ask, a sly smile shown from beneath his hood as his shining gaze glowed with excitement as the elder once again turned, his gaze suddenly lit with interest at the stranger's promising words.

"I assume you're here regarding the darkness then," the elder would speak, his demeanor attentive as hope began to creep into his tone as Erebus crept closer.

"Indeed I am," the 'wasteland warrior' would reassure, gesturing to Lilith to step closer. "We are here to offer you a deal, one that you are sure to be unable to resist,"

Such an offer confused the elder, and it was clear in the way he raised his eyebrows. "A deal? I don't think terms of bargaining can be spoken when it comes to saving a kingdom," the Sloth Elder would say, laughing lightly, as if to take the entire suggestion as a jest.

"Normally, yes. But, you see, this is a situation as anything but ordinary," Erebus would reach up, his hand resting on Lilith's hood before snagging it down with a sharp snag.

As the cloth flung back, the horror of her face would send gasps of horror flowing from the mouths of the guards. Though her ragged and matted hair tried to conceal it, the thin strands of white specks were unable to hide the blossoms of darkness that sprouted from her right eye. Her cheeks were hollowed with hunger, her one good eye was dulled with exhaustion, lacking the bright sparkling light of any regular sky child. Black stains of darkness plagued the skin surrounding her right eye, growing down her right side in crack-like patterns.

She would hear the guard murmur to themselves, the sounds of their iron spears clinking together as they rose echoing around the girl as she stood there, her dead dropped in shame as a feeble effort to conceal her face. she stared at crackle tiles she stood beneath in shame. Those judgmental eyes. She faced them for the longest time, yet she never grew accustomed to them or the cruel words that followed the disgusted glares.

"Because I have Lilith, the one who started this spread, and the one who can make it worse within the blink of an eye," Erebus would say, his arm defensively drawn over her shoulder, offering a shred of comfort to the shame-ridden girl.

Silence fell upon them before a wild cackle came from the sloth elder. Looking up, Lilith could see the pure amusement that radiated from the elder as he leaned over, his eyes leaking with tears of laughter. "What do you take me for? A fool? Lilith is nothing more than a myth that mothers use to scare their children! That isn't Lilith, that's just some pathetic SkyChild you picked from the slums of the wasteland! You had her tailored her in the valley and thought you could come here to threaten me with her? Don't waste the time of an elder with such lies and leave this temple! Guards! See these liars to the door,"

Lilith flinched at the cruel words of the elder. From deep within the shame that grappled her mind, a new stir of emotions would begin, starting as a flickering flame that grew into a burning inferno with each insult the lousy elder dealt. Anger. It boiled deep within her, growing stronger than the shame that plagued her, filling the scrawny girl so much to the point she trembled under the grasp of her partner in crime.

Hesitantly, the guards would slowly stride forward, making their way to the two as their leader commanded. Yet Erebus had different plans in store.

Leaning over, he whispered to Lilith with that same smug smile still spread wide across his lips. "Prove to me that our training did not go to waste; Show them the power of the Lily," he would command, slowly drawing his hand free from her shoulder.

Lilith nodded slowly, bolting forward and enclosing the gap between herself and her attackers. They expected her to charge them head-on, to unsheath some sort of blade from beneath the fabric of her cloak and charge. Yet much to the guard's surprise, the girl dove for a nearby patch of weeds that sprouted from the ground, her hands gripping tightly onto the nimble stems of the golden blossoms.

Confused yet sensing a threat, they drew their weapons and charged, their blades aimed for the hunched-over girl. Yet before they even grew meters close, vines of darkness would break through the concrete ground, winding itself around the limbs of guards like a viper.

They dug into their flesh, ripping through their weak leather armor and lingering just close enough to poke their bare skin, yet never puncturing it.They were subdued, yet Lilith wasn't finished. Once bonded from making another move, two thick leaves would spout outward, closing in on the two Skylanders like a venus fly trap. Their screams of terror were silenced as the leaves closed in on them complete, engulfing both in darkness.

An uncanny silence consumed the room as Lilith slowly rose, the weeds that she had clasped now nothing more than new sprouts of darkness, black, blue, and budding with an ominous glow.

She slowly turned around, facing a petrified elder and a beaming Erebus. She no longer wore the timid and reserved completion of a girl rejected from society, yet a merciless and cold expression of a battle-hardened woman, one whose gaze burned with the thirst for revenge.

A flurry of applause came from Erebus, who clapped his hands and cheered for the girl as she slowly sauntered over, resuming her place by his side. "As you can see, Lilith is no myth, but a force to be reckoned with." He would announce proudly, laughing as the elder stumbled backward, dropping his chalice and letting its wine spalter onto the velvet cushion he once sat on. "And if you don't want to end up like your guards, you'll accept our deal"

The elder looked at both of the children, biting his bottom lip as sweat began to collect across his face. His sights would flicker back and forth from them and the darkness that captured his guards. He opened his mouth, only to close it again as he struggled to formulate a reply. This action would repeat a handful more times, yet the two would wait ever so patiently for their answer. "What are your demands?" The elder would question, his tone small while his voice was heavy with defeat.

"Surrender your throne to me, and leave this realm. In return, we will control the spread of darkness and ensure the safety of you and your people" Erebus would enlist the details, his arms crossing over his chest with pride at the compliance. After all, it was a rare sight to see an Elder comply with rules that weren't their own.

Grinding his teeth, the elder gave the two his queries, "And where am I supposed to go? Where good is an elder with no realm?" The thought of him surrendering his life to the likes of two criminals didn't seem to sit well with him, sparking a flame of stubbornness within him.

Yet Lilith, who had a brighter flame of hatred still raging within, made a quick come back to silence the weak protest of the elder. "What good is an elder when they spend more time drinking than they do directing their subjects to a better life?" She would challenge, watching as the elder's face dropped from her prompt.

Just as she had intended, the elder went quiet and Erebus continued, listing off the consequences had the elder denied his proposal. "Of course, you could always say no, keep your throne and you could let the darkness spread. But, your people will suffer the consequences and you will be hearing more often from us," he would reply, keeping his words vague to allow the Elder to envision the demise of his realm with his imagination. "The choice is ultimately yours; bow to me and walk away with your life or drag on this ordeal and watch as your realm withers because of it"

Silence fell upon the elder once more, contemplating his limited options. Unlike the prior time, he came to his conclusion rather quickly.

Without a word, he lowered himself onto a submitting, his head hanging and his crown tumbling from his head and onto the ground, cracking from impact.

#sky children of the light #ocs #sky cotl #oneshot #skyblr

4 notes · View notes

funkwhistle · 4 years ago

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Dutch Van der Linde x reader

Dutch Van Der Linde x pregnant reader

Pairing: Dutch Van der Linde x F!reader

Warnings: A bit of NSFW themes at start, fluff, and pregnancy

A/N: Thank you to anon for requesting this, I had one half written so sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting - might do some headcanons about this in the future. Little disclaimer - I’ve never been pregnant, so anything which is incorrect, just let me know and I can sort it. Otherwise, happy reading! :)

(Photo is mine - don't reupload without tagging me)

“What've you been eating dear?” Dutch asked, his fingers gently ghosting over your breasts as you lay there. When you didn't reply, he continued, “I mean, they're just… nicer I guess?” By this point you were half asleep, but you just shrugged, moving back into him. He hummed contentedly, kissing your shoulder gently as the pair of you fell asleep.

Dutch rolled off you, breathing heavily and kissing you lightly on the head as he lay beside you. Exhausted, you moved closer to him, so he could drape his arm over you and pull you closer to him under the blanket to try and retain some sort of heat between the pair of you.

When you awoke the next day, Dutch had left the tent already, he was chatting to Arthur outside about another job. Quietly, you got dressed as fast as you could, thinking about Dutch's comments last night. Maybe it was the spring weather making you feel like this. Emerging from the tent, Dutch glanced over at you, smiling a little before returning to the conversation as you walked over to Tilly and Mary-Beth who were sewing up one of the shirts.

“Ah, Dutch has some socks which need darning,” Tilly said, pushing the needle she'd been using into the fabric and passing over the socks. The heel had worn through, a simple fix, but it would take a little time, so you sat down beside them and got to work as the warm sunlight filtered through the trees.

After you'd sewn his socks, you stitched a rip in one of Hosea's neckerchiefs before standing up to take a break. However, as you stood up, you began to feel dizzy, and a previously unfelt sickness came flooding over you as the world swam a little. Grasping onto the wagon beside you, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the feeling to go away, before moving. the dizziness left, but the nausea was still there, gnawing at your insides like you'd forgotten something.

“You alright there?” Mary-Beth asked, glancing up at you. “Did you eat this morning?” Shaking your head, you realised she was correct; you hadn't eaten anything since last night, that would be why you felt like this. thanking Mary-Beth, you walked to Pearson's wagon, grabbing a dry bread roll and biting down on it. Instead of quelling your sickness as you'd expected, the bread only made things worse, making you feel like when you'd eaten some raw meat a few months ago. Swallowing forcefully, you shook off the feeling, although you didn't finish the bread.

The sickness didn't leave for the whole day, and as the night drew in you found yourself in the tent, sitting by the small stove he had in there and massaging your temples. Dutch came into the tent then, and upon seeing you rushed over to you, carefully placing a kiss on your forehead before rubbing circles on your knee as he looked at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and you merely nodded, your headache getting painful now; and him speaking wasn't helping. He sighed, coaxing you to sit up fully so he could wrap his arms around you, helping you to stand. You were too exhausted to speak, but you smiled gratefully as he turned you around, making an effort to unlace your corset with care, although the knot at the bottom got him a little confused. After your corset was off, he pulled your skirt off, and pulled you closer to him, now only in your undergarments.

Dutch placed deliberate kisses over your neck and shoulder, making you sigh into him as you stood there together, you nearly falling asleep in his arms. the last thing you could remember before you drifted off was Dutch laying you in the bed beside you and pulling the blanket over you both.

You didn't know how long you'd been asleep for, but that didn't matter now as you felt much more nauseous than yesterday. Pushing yourself away from Dutch as he slept, you wobbled to the edge of the tent before falling onto your knees as you retched on the grass outside. Someone must have heard, as you felt someone pulling your hair from out of your face.

“It'll be alright, no worries. Dutch!” The gruff voice belonged to Arthur, who was calling fruitlessly for Dutch as he hushed you, rubbing your back gently as you shook in the cold grass.

By now you'd stopped retching, pushing yourself up so you were sitting as you pulled a face at the taste in your mouth. The early morning air was cold, biting at your exposed skin now you sat on the floor, dew seeping into your clothes. Arthur offered you his water as he stuck his head into Dutch's tent to wake him. Drinking a little made you feel better, but you couldn't shake the idea you might be pregnant, you remembered from when Abigail was that she would always be sick in the mornings.

Dutch emerged from the tent with Arthur, and when he saw you sat in the grass he shuddered himself, wrapping his arms around you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dutch mouthing a thank you to Arthur as he walked away. Feeling less ill now, you buried your head into Dutch's chest, trying to keep your tears at bay as he rocked you soothingly, muttering something calming to you.

The sunrise was visible by the time you felt you could stand up. Dutch supported you as you walked back into the tent, pulling one of your slip-on dresses over your head before letting you sit on the bed to allow him to get dressed. And yet you couldn't shake the idea of your possible pregnancy from your mind, deciding to ask the only person who knew, Abigail.

Dutch was more doting than usual throughout the day, coming over to check on you every few hours and not allowing you to work at all. However, while he was busy talking to Hosea, you caught the eye of Abigail, who you quickly motioned to come over.

“You good?” she sat down opposite you at the table you'd been playing dominoes on earlier. Sighing, you decided you needed to ask someone, so glancing around to check nobody was over hearing, you leant in and whispered;

“I think I might be pregnant?” Surprisingly, Abigail didn't even flinch, instead a grin spread over her face, making you more confused.

“You've finally worked it out? You ain't eaten properly for days and you can see a little bump?” she laughed a little at your face of shock. “Come on, most of the girls have cottoned on now,” you shook your head, disbelievingly, but now she mentioned it; you didn't eat all your dinner the other day, and you noticed you had to loosen your corset. Abigail took your hands in her own, making you look back up at her and you could tell what she was going to say next.

“You gotta tell him,”

“How? He won't want it,” your eyes began to prick with tears as you realised the reality of your situation, that you'd have to raise a child without the father, Dutch could die on any day, with a bounty like that on his head. Sure, you wanted a child at some point, but not now, maybe when you'd settled a little; got a house of your own, with a yard for the kid and… As she was aware your panic had begun to set in, Abigail continued calmly;

“Well, when I had Jack I didn't know if he was John's, so I told Dutch first. When I tell you he was excited about the idea of there being a child in camp-” she stopped at your face, you'd been wondering if Jack was, in fact, Dutch's. As though she could read your mind, Abigail shook her head, continuing. “Don't worry, he is John's, I spoke to Dutch because I didn't know if I had to leave camp,” you smiled at this, maybe she was right about him after all.

After speaking to Abigail, you didn't leave the tent for the rest of the day, with Dutch bringing you a small bit of food in the evening.

“You feeling an-” Dutch started, passing you a bowl of stew which you took from him eagerly, but not eating any yet, you wanted to tell him first.

“Dutch, I need to tell you something,” you interrupted him as he sat down beside you. All of a sudden, all your previous courage had gone, replaced with doubt and worry about his reaction; if he banished you from the gang you had nowhere to go. Cocking his head, Dutch was looking at you expectantly, the stew on one of the crates behind him, long forgotten.

“I think I'm pregnant,”

Dutch didn't move at first, and you were worried he'd take it badly, he was twisting his rings as he processed your information.

“You're sure?” you nodded, mentioning you were going to go into town tomorrow to get the doctor to confirm it. Dutch still didn't say anything, although his hand found it's way to interlocking itself with yours. Slowly, he looked up at you, and you could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes as a smile began to spread over his face, making you smile also.

“You're going to make a wonderful mother Miss Van Der Linde,” he was still beaming, but he pulled you close so he could kiss you instead of you seeing him cry. “We can have a mini Van Der Linde running around camp now,” his reaction prompted tears of relief from you, and the pair of you sat together, you on his lap now, whispering about the good news. Dutch kept drawing patterns on your small bump, and placing kisses on whichever bit of skin he could.

#dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x fem!reader #pregnancy #rdr2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #Pearson #sadie adler #bill williamson #anon #rdr2 pregnancy #fluff #hosea mathews

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9tzuyu · 4 years ago

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run into me sunday pt. ii

pt. i

notes: i am yet again projecting my own issues in fics lmao. this isn’t my favorite work, but i wanted to make a second part. this is the result. all mistakes are mine as im too lazy to proofread :P.

warnings: heavy talk of having an eating disorder.

requests are open!

the first few of weeks at natasha's house were fine. you tried really hard not to think about all the changes happening. like being monitored 24/7, or having to abide by natasha's rules all the time, or knowing that you were growing to be healthy.

it was okay, at first.

you hardly put up a fight when it came down to her rules. even meal time seemed to go without a hitch.

but as many people have said before, all good things cone to an end.

the second you woke up today, you could already tell it wasn't going to be fun. everything you'd pushed aside came crawling back, and you could feel every insecurity of yours heighten a thousand times worse than before.

nat's arms rest gently around your waist, and while it normally felt reassuring, you couldn't help but notice the extra weight you'd put on.

you still felt overly full from last night. if natasha woke up right now, you were positive she could feel how expanded your stomach was.

(god, you did not want her to feel how bloated you still were.)

now you knew there was nothing wrong with having a stomach, especially one that wasn't flat or as unwell as yours had become. but it was your body, and your body felt wrong.

feeling natasha's breath on the back of your neck, you gingerly began removing her arm from your body. however, your plan quickly failed when natasha pulled you in closer, her grip tightening around you.

you bit your lip to suppress your cries. you needed out and you needed out right now.

things quickly became unbearable. the longer you felt trapped, the more your body began to tremble. and though you despised it, you turned around to face natasha, your head buried in the crook of her neck.

the thoughts were loud. much louder than they had been the past few weeks.

you tried to keep your cries to a low level, but that didn't seem to work. natasha awoke within the very same minute. her first instinct was to check on you, but seeing as tears were streaming down your face she knew what the problem was.

nat pulled you closer to her, letting her right hand rub the backside of your body in an attempt to calm you down.

"hey now, it's okay, it's alright. you're okay, you're safe, you're here. i'm here." you continued to sob, letting every detail of your own self hatred slip from your mouth.

natasha wasn't surprised at the outburst. she knew you would have days like this, more days would soon follow. that was reality. she didn't expect your recovery to be perfect, if it was then she would know you weren't really getting better – simply putting on weight to please her.

she couldn't take away your pain (although she wished she could), but she could be there, offer you her love and support, coax you through meals when you needed her to.

when you'd finally calmed down you turned away from her, suddenly embarrassed at how you acted. she could feel you tense back up again, a failed attempt at blocking her out.

it was nat, who were you to think she couldn't read you like an open book?

nonetheless, she kissed the back of your head and moved out from under the covers. "i'm going to make breakfast, i'll be back."

you sighed. breakfast was not an option.

but 15 minutes later natasha returned with a plate of eggs, toast and a cup of fruit on the side. she even made it all pretty and nice for you.

“up, y/n. i know you don't want to, but you have to eat.”

"no," you mumbled, bringing the blanket over your head. she tugged them away instantly, "yes."

"it's too early."

"you didn't say that yesterday-"

"well i'm saying it today, natasha. now fuck off."

natasha knew better than to take your words to heart. if anything, she found it rather entertaining to see just how far you'd go to try and push her buttons.

an idea came to mind, a negotiation, really.

"tell you what, no breakfast, but you have to eat lunch and three snacks between dinner."

you thought about it for a second before peeking from underneath the covers, "deal." natasha patted your side, "i'm only doing this because you've been doing so well these past few weeks. don't count on this deal happening again." she spoke thoroughly, the plate of food now on its way into the kitchen trash-bin.

while you laid in bed natasha texted wanda. the redhead thought it would be beneficial for the younger woman to pay a visit. she knew how close the two of you were and decided to invite her over. it wasn't much, but the idea of wanda coming over and (possibly) helping you in any shape or form was very reassuring to natasha.

wanda texted back almost instantly, informing her that she was just short of an hour out, having to stop for gas on the way. natasha thumbs up'd her message and began planning out the day.

before either of you knew it, it was 12 noon. lunch had approached sooner than expected. wanda and natasha easily got caught up in a conversation. the only thing keeping time was nat's alarm that set off.

"time to go wake y/n up," natasha giggled, although she knew you'd be a challenge today. wanda followed her, too excited to wait on surprising you with lunch.

"y/n! c'mon, a special someone is here to see you."

a groan could be heard from the bed as you up to see who was there. you smiled at the sight of wanda and she immediately brought you in for a squeeze-the-life-out-of-you hug.

you didn't miss her smile faltering when she let you go.

you were still just as boney and thin as you were when you left the compound. three weeks was nothing, but you swore you could feel every ounce of weight gain coming back.

wanda helped you out of bed, allowing you to lean on her as she guided you into the kitchen. it was a good thing too, because you were more light headed than usual.

"what are you doing here?" wanda smiled and pushed the already prepared plate of food towards you. it'd been a few minutes and you hadn't even touched your fork. "what? couldn't surprise you?" natasha giggled from your left. you already seemed to be in a much better mood with wanda around than you had been this morning. but both women caught onto the fact that you were only shoving the food on your plate, not making any effort at all to actually eat it.

nat tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "you have to eat, you know the deal we made." her push was soft, but it didn't make things any easier.

you sighed, tightening the grip around your fork. things like this shouldn't be so hard. it was food. food is fuel, food is good, but somewhere in your mind those messages were twisted and crumpled into something that could never be more false.

you leaned into natasha, keeping your face shielded away from the plate. tears sprung into your eyes and you begged for her to not make you eat.

"tasha, just one day, please. i promise i'll eat tomorrow-"

"i wish that were true, i really do, sweetheart." nat rubbed your shoulder before pushing you back, forcing you to look her in the eyes. "i'm going to go grocery shopping and run a few extra errands. wanda will be here to watch you finish your meal and to have a snack or two before i get back. i love you, okay?"

(you knew she did. but holy fuck, why did she have to do this to you.)

"yeah, you too." and with that, natasha grabbed her keys, kissed you on the forehead and left.

you don't know why, but you didn't actually think wanda would listen to natasha. that belief was quickly thrown out when you moved to get up from the table, wanda quick to grab your wrist and stop you from going to far.

"stay. please? just a few bites, i won't tell natasha if you don't..." she pleaded. a feeling of safety grew in your chest. your level of trust with her had always been high, but this time it felt more intimate. wanda was seeing you at your worst, a vulnerable position you'd never let anyone else but tasha see, and yet, wanda decided to stay.

it took over an hour for you to manage half a meal. wanda sat through it all, however, and coaxed you through each bite.

now, two hours later with a snack in hand, you sat quietly on the porch, head resting on wanda's lap with her fingers tied in your hair.

"do you talk to nat?"

"sometimes. actually yeah, most of the time i talk to her. it helps, and she's a great listener." you complimented.

"wanda?"

"hm?"

"why are you doing this?"

wanda looked down at you, seeing your eyes bore into her and bit her lip, "it's hard to see the girl that i loved and the girl that came back. i should've noticed before you went on your mission, but i didn't because i was too wrapped up with my own issues."

"you can't blame yourself, wanda. i didnt want to be seen. you couldn't have done anything different."

she hummed, ears perking up at the sound of natashas car pulling in the driveway.

you jumped up from her lap and ran to help tasha with her groceries, earning a loving glare from the redhead.

oh yeah. no strenuous activity. too many calories that you needed would be burned off. at least that's what you were told anyway.

wanda stayed the rest of the day, even through dinner. (only because you begged natasha to let her stay that long.)

natasha didn't seem to mind that she stayed. the redhead heard more laughs and giggles from you than she'd heard in the past six months.

the worst part about the day ending was the fact that wanda had to leave eventually.

(eventually being now.)

you pouted. you weren't ready for her to go just yet. she'd taken your mind off of so much today and you weren't sure you could face it again. really, you didn't want to face it again.

"i believe in you." she murmured.

stupid mind reading.

wanda rolled her eyes, "i'm serious, y/n. you've got this. you're amazing."

“you're only saying that because you have to.”

her eyebrows pulled together. "no. i'm saying it because i know it's true. you've got a gift, y/n. what you have– you're going to get it back."

you inhaled.

"next time i see you, i want you to be a little bit more healthy, okay?" wanda gave you a tight hug and left without another word. she just hoped the next time she saw you it wasn't in a casket.

you hoped the next time you saw her, you'd be better.

today wasn't easy, but it gave you a taste of everything you'd been missing.

and you wanted it back.

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader

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astriefer · 4 years ago

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I will elaborate more later, but I reached 100 followers on Tumbler and I just find it? So? Amazing??? I don't get why someone would follow me but I love you all a lot!! <3

Thank you @kit-12 for dealing with my incapable mind and helping me get the courage to post it. You're the best :3

Warning: bad writing and possible fluff.

"Come here," Cordelia wheedled, spreading her arms. "Come to your sister, azizam."

Their sibling, sitting on the other side of the carpet, was too busy playing with his toy to notice. He was bubbling and giggling as he shook the Persian doll vigorously.

"This is ridiculous," commented Alastair from his place on the armchair. He laid there, twisted so one leg was over the arm of the chair and the other fell to the floor. He also, for five minutes straight, kept saying how ludicrous Cordelia's attempts were.

"You will see," she retorted, redoubling her effort for the sake of proving Alastair wrong. She reached out her arms and signaled their sibling to get closer. "Come on, Baraadar-e koochektar. Let's prove our ill-tempered brother you can do it!"

Alastair rolled his eyes, cutting his gaze back to the newspaper in his hands. "He still too young to crawl. Leave him off alone."

"No," she insisted. She looked at her brother with a keen look, despite his eyes rested on the printed words on the newspaper. "He will. Have some faith, Alastair."

"I have faith just alright," he said. "But he'll do it when he's ready."

Cordelia didn't resist making a face. Their baby brother laughed at it, a toothless grin that reminded Cordelia of Alastair's.

That was one thing she and Alastair would argue about frequently: Whose smile is more like the baby's smile, what weapons would he use growing up, would he like Persian literature and art like them and Maman, what food he'd like, what music he'd prefer (Alastair stated their brother loves classical music, she's certain he prefer Blues much better).

"You talk as if I make him walk on a five feet tall rope. It's just crawling." She smiled fondly at her baby brother. "Oh, little one, I hope you won't end up like Alastair." She pretended to shudder from the thought. "Great Lord, I'd do all in my force to prevent such tragedy."

"Very amusing," Alastair said dryly.

Her brother looked up at her, chubby cheeks flushed from glee and expression clear of any fuss. Cordelia smiled to him encouragingly, coaxing him up to try and reach her. He glanced at her innocently for three steady seconds before ignoring her again in favor of the toy in his hand.

Cordelia stared blankly. Alastair mumbled under his breath, and she turned to glare at him. He pressed his lips together, clearly suppressing a grin.

"What?" she demanded.

"Maybe he just doesn't want to come to you," he suggested. She captured the smug smirk playing on his lips and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What is it you implying?" she demanded, peeved already.

Alastair didn't seem bothered by her exasperation. He cocked his eyebrows. "Nothing, sister. Nothing at all."

She crossed her arms on her chest. "You think he is not trying because he isn't interested in coming to me, especially."

"How observant of you."

He was indifferent to her irritation, which made her even more annoyed. She huffed at Alastair's irksome demeanor. "You won't do any better on this field."

"Of course I will," her brother said in a superior voice. "You clearly don't know how to capture his eye."

"And you do?"

"Yes, most obviously, " he responded.

It was Cordelia's turn to arch her eyebrows, a challenging smile on her face. "Oh, really? So why don't you, dear brother, try to make him crawl toward you?"

Alastair made his signature eye-rolling. "Because it's childish. And because he can very well do so on his own."

She clicked her tongue. "Are these excuses? Besides, you said a moment ago he's still too young."

"He is," Alastair clarified.

"But he's a Carstairs, we always come ahead of our time," she smiled at him. She swept imaginary dust away from her dress. It was too late, she knew; Alastair's challenge was accepted - and she was determined to prove him wrong. "If I didn't know better, I would say you don't think he'll come to you, seeing as you refuse to prove your saying of him not wanting to crawl only to me. You should have no problem then."

He squinted at her, grumbling, and she thought he might simply go to his room and ignore her for the rest of the day. However, he tossed his newspaper aside and looked her straight in the eye. "I know what you are trying to do."

"I have no doubt," she answered. "But it's working, isn't it?"

He didn't reply but glanced at their brother. Their sibling has been rolling over, rocking, and dragging himself on his belly in the course of the last months. She always was fascinated and full of joy to see their baby brother stumbling around; pushing himself to sit, reaching to whatever near to grab or investigate with dark curious eyes.

"Just give him a toy he likes. He is fond of that baby rattle with the dragons' decorations as much as this Persian doll."

"Ah," Cordelia said, faking the incredulous tone in her voice. Her glinting eyes and curving smile failed her, though. "You need to bribe him with toys! How poor of you, Alastair."

He rolled his eyes again. Cordelia chuckled. "Let's make a deal. If I lose, I will give you one of my books."

Alastair tilted his head quizzically, but his look was drab. "A book?"

"It's a very fine book," she protested. "Tessa Herondale bought it for me, a rare book in Farsi, so it's sentimental. Just to show how gravely I take it."

"I am not convinced," he revealed pensively.

Alastair hummed and looked over at her, and she scowled. She knew what he wanted to hear. "I will not say it."

"You already know my answer, then."

She restrained herself before she could stick her tongue out at him. She begrudgingly nodded. Then, "As you may. But if I win, you have to perform a song in front of all my friends."

His eyes widened and he made some sort of choking sound. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," she smiled mischievously. "It's only fair."

Alastair considered her, still thunderstruck. "In what world is it fair? A song in exchange for a book I don't desire? I eat my hat before this would ever happen."

"So to Maman, Papa, Risa, and myself. And our sibling, of course. Be that as it may, I agreed to add the second part to your request, so I want a song."

Alastair shook his head but seemed less strained. He scowled - not unlike she did before - but deemed it fair. "Alright."

She pushed it far enough already. Yet, she gave it a last try. "Include that little say you made me add, and we are on our way."

Alastair's expression made his answer clear. Cordelia rubbed her hands together. "Your face when you lose will be enough, I suppose. The song is just a benefit."

Alastair snorted. He lifted himself to his feet and reached to them. "We will see."

He sat cross-legged on another edge of the carpet, so both were in front of their baby brother on different corners.

Cordelia spread his arms, twisting her fingers to gesture to the baby to come. Alastair was a bit stiff as he called their brother's name, too self-conscious to do the same thing. Their sibling seemed baffled by the additional attention drawn toward him, ruthlessly rattling his doll and staring at them.

"Look how surprised he seems by getting your attention," Cordelia pondered. Their brother rocked back a forth on the muted carpet, pushing his hand into his face as if he was wondering what he should do.

"Nonsense. He always looks like that," he dismissed.

"I decided to ignore your remark. Azizam, come here," she cajoled, concentrating on her mission. "Would you not like to play some music with me?"

One thing both siblings agreed on was their brother's attachment to music. Once, left on the kitchen floor, he took a wooden spoon and decided to hit a pot with it, ostensibly creating music for his own ears. He later threw it, unintentionally, at Cordelia. Alastair could barely keep his face straight when it happened and reminisced it for weeks.

"Who's bribing who now, Cordelia?" quipped her brother, and was rewarded by a giggle from their brother. He twirled an eyebrow. "It seems like he got my sense of humor."

"A natural disaster, really," she teased. Alastair gave her an amused look. A small sound made her glance forward. The word 'music' apparently intrigued him because their sibling's eyes were fixed on her.

"Oh, Would you like that, baby brother? " She smiled victoriously, spreading her arms. "Come to me, and we could play together."

"Or, I could play the piano, unlike Cordelia," suggested Alastair. He changed position so that he knelt now, pressing his hands on the knees. He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "And you could assist with the drums."

Cordelia pouted. "That was my idea," she complained. "And I will be a much better companion to play music with."

Alastair rolled his eyes again. "So to speak."

he opened her mouth to tell her older brother he is wasting time and is wrong about what he is trying to prove when she saw the movement in the corner of her eye. Their brother left behind his toy. He swung his legs, slipping more than once, putting one small hand after the other as he attempted to crawl.

"Alastair," she gasped, forgetting their banter. "He is doing it! He's crawling!"

She turned, elated, to share her awe with Alastair. He looked at their brother wonderingly - It was a rare, open expression on her brother's face that made her smirk wider. His lips turned upward and tinted his face with a smile. She suspected her expression is similar.

The older Carstairs siblings observed as their brother made his way toward them on the carpet. Cordelia decided no matter whom the baby will come to, she couldn't be more joyous. "Mother should see it," Alastair mumbled.

Cordelia nodded. "It would be a nice surprise when she gets back from tea with the Lightwoods."

Alastair swept his head so swiftly a few strands fell on his eyes. "Wait," he stuttered out. "Which Lightwoods?"

Cordelia flushed and turned her attention back to her little brother. She watched as he tried to move his leg unsuccessfully. "Come to your sister, Baraadar!"

"Layla," he said, his voice informing her he won't let her away without an answer. "Is Mother with Sophie and Gideon Lightwood?"

"Maybe," she conceded. She kept her eyes on their brother "Maybe not."

"Cordelia-"

"It's our brother's first time crawling, do you really want to miss it?"

"We'll talk about it later," he snapped, and Cordelia found it inequitable. She had nothing to do with whom their mother went out with, and it was certainly not her fault Sophie and Gideon Lightwood happened to be Alastair's partner's parents.

Now fully settled on their brother, they watched as he ungracefully wiggled himself toward them. They encouraged him to get up when he fell and smiled at him when he raised his head to their voices. Cordelia even clapped her hands.

The baby crawled, not fairly straight, but if she reached her hands out she could hold him now. So could Alastair, but she tried her luck. "I think it considered my win."

"Not quite yet, Layla." The baby fell on his belly. He struggles to find his balance and continued to come closer, his visage as if he wondered himself what was going on.

They watched in astonishment as he kept wiggling his legs and hands, and then passed them. They both changed confused glanced and turned over, watching as a pair of hands grabbed their sibling's small figure.

"Risa!"

Their baby brother snuggled himself contentedly in Risa's embrace, and she gave the both of them amused looks. She turned away to leave the room.

The Carstairs siblings locked eyes with one another.

"That's unjust!" She exclaimed. "Risa wasn't one of the choices."

As Risa walked away, they heard her laughter echoing from the corridor. Alastair's eyes lent on hers again. "So, what was it about Mother and the Lightwoods?"

Cordelia just grunted and shook her head.

_ _

Thank you for reading so far! I hope you liked it!!

This is still very weird to me. 100 followers??? I suppose some doesn't remember they followed me at all, but I am still quite honored 🥺

I can make the 100 followers celebration thingie🙈 although I'm not as crafty as others I don't think someone wants to know me better, I can answer asks about my opinions, headcanons, maybe a fic if it's Alastair centered, stuff like that :p Please tell me what you think and if you'd like that!!

I'll tag some people who I much regard as mutuals or friends here! I am glad I got to meet you all, no matter if we don't talk at all. If you are reading this, you are amazing 🌺

@fairchilds-and-herondales @littlx-songbxrd @upsidedown-cats @nott-the-best @rinadragomir @gummybears-4u @aceofjesper @dianasarrow @no-scones-allowed @stitchkiss @stxr-thxif @itsdaughterofthemoon @shadowhuntertrash @doitforthecarstairs @banescrown @greymistttt

#me trying to add the gay sitting agenda thing #you can't understand how many headcanons I put into this small thing #also me headcanoning the baby is a boy bit we'll see #Only you know I headcanon the Carstiars siblings to playfully arguing over who is the best sibling #and that is what Alastair wants Cordelia to say but you didn't hear that from me #it's top secret don't tell anyone #didn't give the baby a name I didn't want to #~get attached~#Also them talking with their sibling in Farsi makes me soft :)#ok finished ranting for now #I haven't made a gif in centuries I forgot it's can be complicated but fun #Thank you all so much!!#100 followers #100 followers fic #cordelia carstairs #alastair carstairs #baby carstairs #cordelia and alastair #tlh #the carstairs siblings #carstairs family #I couldn't settle on a name #sad

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worldoffanfiction2021 · 4 years ago

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{Image Sources: Dong Hua: https://daydaynews.cc/en/entertainment/419895.html Fengjiu: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1196337391276429/}

The family of three deities had bid adieu to their relatives in Quingqui and taken the magical boat to Bihai Cangling. Dijun and Fengjiu had both managed to handle their respective duties and arranged for messengers to visit them here at their new place of residence, actually their real home, for the next few months. They were all very excited about it.

Fengjiu was remembering their last visit fondly. The last time she had been here, she had spent some magical time with Dijun.

Dijun was also remembering his last visit. But there wasn’t any fondness in those memories for him. He had been there was to build the Star Light ward. He had not expected to come back alive to this place, much less to come back alive with his wife and son. He looked at Xiaobai and marveled at her. It had been her who had saved him and saved his home. She was the best. He lovingly played with her hair.

Gungun saw that they were about to reach to a beautiful landscape, the likes of which he had never seen. “Father, your home is so beautiful. It’s even better than the Sky Kingdom!”, he exclaimed clapping excitedly.

“Gungun’s reaction to Bihai Cangling is just like yours when you came here for the first time.”, said Dijun smilingly to Xiaobai. "It's your home too, Gungun. It’s our home.", he added. He liked the sound of that very much.

Xiaobai noticed that a lot had changed since she had last visited. Row of fruit trees and vines had been planted - grapefruits, pears and grapes. There was a long corridor with an artificial hill. The hill really looked like a real rocky mountain, just smaller than a mountain. On either side of the corridor there were beautiful trees of foiling flowers. Spiritual birds danced to ‘paying homage to the Phoenix’ near by.

Then there was a pavilion overlooking a lotus pond. White and pink lotuses swayed gracefully in a cool breeze there. White sandalwood on each side of the pavilion gave the seating area a perfect cover from sun.

Xiaobai recalled her own words from the last time she had visited. Dijun had done everything she had asked for. She was transfixed.

When they walked a little further, her jaw dropped to the floor. Sitting atop a slightly raised platform was a house. Not just any house - the bamboo house she had drawn! Oh, Dijun!!!! She stood dumbfounded with tears in her eyes.

Dijun realized she had stopped walking and turned around. When he saw her face he asked with worry, “What’s wrong? Did I mess it up?” Forgetting about Gungun watching them, she ran forward and hugged him. She buried herself in his arms and said, “No, Dijun. No mess up. This is perfect. You made our home. Our home!” She choked on her emotions and couldn’t say anything else. Dijun smiled and planted a kiss on her head.

Gungun was watching all this and came running. “Mother and Father are kissing again. I want a kiss too.”, he giggled. Dijun picked him up and twirled him high. His giggles and Dijun’s laughter filled the space. And Xiaobai’s heart. They were home.

When they went inside, Xiaobai realized that all the basic things they had planned for, had been done. There was a study, a living room and a well-lit, well ventilated kitchen. The large kitchen window overlooked the fruit trees. There were two identical rooms - one for Gungun and another for his little brother/ sister, as Dijun explained, his eyes hinting mischievously. It made Gungun very excited to think that he would have a playmate. Then there were a couple guest rooms. Dijun and Xiaobai’s room was a spacious suite with a large bed. A foiling flower tree was the headboard of that bed. They even had a nice little hot spring next to their room.

“Dijun, the house is great, but there’s still work to do. We have to set up the kitchen, the wardrobes and such.”, began Xiaobai. “If I do everything, what will you do?”, he interrupted her, pretending to be arrogant and tapped her forehead. Then he leaned in and whispered in her ears “But I have already done so much work here. You owe me big this time. I will collect my dues from you at night.” Seeing her cheeks instantly color up pleased him.

There was a balcony behind their room. It overlooked a large playground with targets set up for practicing archery, an open space for sword plays and martial arts. On one side was another building. “That is a workshop where we can forge weapons. I have also placed all the weapons I have made or collected in a room in there. I am sure you will like it.”, said Dijun. She looked at him with pride in her eyes. Dijun felt that all his efforts had been completely worth it.

“I am so hungry, mother. When can we eat?”, asked Gungun. “You and Father can put your things in your rooms. I will quickly get food ready.”, said Xiaobai patting him. They all went their separate directions and got busy.

After some time they all got together in the dining room and ate a simple but delicious meal. Fengjiu had found that right next to the kitchen was a vegetable and herb garden. She had picked some fresh veggies to prepare rice porridge and mushrooms-vegetables stir fry. Some lentil cakes rounded up the meal. She had always been good in cooking. Her years in mortal realm had helped her perfect the art of making do with whatever was available.

After they cleared up all the food, Fengjiu wanted to go to her room and take a nap. But Dijun insisted they go to the lotus pond and catch some fish. She almost suspected that he wanted to keep her away from their bedroom. “May be he has made a mess in there with all the stuff. I better not go in there or else I will end up cleaning everything myself.”, she thought to herself as she followed her guys to the pond. When they got there, she rested her head in Dijun’s lap and dozed off happily.

She woke up a little while later when tiny hands were trying to tap on her head. "Mom, wake up! Look I caught a fish!! My first ever fish!!!", Gungun was showing off with eyes wide with excitement. She couldn't help by smile at him. "I will make sweet and sour fish for dinner tonight with this. You both like it, don't you?" She said. Two heads full of silver hair nodded in fervent agreement. "Like father - like son", she chuckled.

She completely lost herself in cooking dinner. In addition to sweet and sour fish, she also made sticky rice and soup. "For Dijun and Gungun. They need this nourishment.", she told herself. All this was gobbled up pretty quickly between the three of them.

After dinner they took off for a long walk that led them back to the weapon forge. Dijun took them in and Fengjiu was like a kid in the candy store. She enjoyed designing and creating mechanical weapons. Among other things, this was something she and Dijun had in common. Gungun was quite curious and looked around with amazement. But he was slowly beginning to get tired and needed to get to bed. So they all returned homewards.

"You take him to his room and get him ready for bed. I will bring him a glass of milk. He will sleep well with that.", said Dijun. Fengjiu nodded and walked away holding Gungun's little hand. In his room, she helped him bathe and change. They both were happy they didn't need to dye his hair anymore. As she was settling him in his bed, Dijun came in with a glass on milk in his hand. He made sure Gungun finished it up. Then they both dimmed the candles, kissed Gungun sweet dreams and left the room.

When they reached the doorstep of their bedroom, Dijun gestured Fengjiu to stop. "What's wrong?", asked Fengjiu puzzled. "Close your eyes.", ordered Dijun. "Why should I?", replied Fengjiu more puzzled. "Please, Xiaobai. Do as you are told.", Dijun coaxed her. So she sighed and closed her eyes. "You are acting very weird tonight.", she said.

She found herself being lifted in his arms. She felt the door opening and he walking in with her.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Feng Jiu asked. "Not yet, just a little bit longer.", Dijun replied. She could feel the smile in his voice.

"What's going on? I am opening my eyes now." She nagged him anxiously as she felt herself being lowered on something extremely soft.

"Wait. Just a few more moments.", Dijun replied as he adjusted her clothes. "Okay, you can open your eyes now.", he said.

She was so not ready for what she was seeing. The room had been transformed. It looked like a bride's chamber on a wedding night. There was an altar placed for heaven worship ceremony. Gold, white and purple lanterns adorned the ceiling. Matching candles, flower arrangements and curtains hung everywhere. Every seat in the room and the whole bed was covered in foiling flower petals. She was draped in her wedding gown. And then as she turned towards Dijun she saw that he himself was looking extremely handsome in his wedding attire. Nothing in the room was nearly as mesmerizing as the sight of the regal man himself. He took her breath away and she could not help but stare at him open mouthed.

"I never gave you a proper wedding. I have regretted that very much.", he said huskily as he walked towards her with a purple veil. "Tonight, let's get married, Xiaobai.", he said softly as he came close and arranged the veil over her hair. She didn't know what to say or do. She was completely under his spell.

He led her by her hand towards the altar. They kowtowed to the heaven and earth. They remembered her parents and kowtowed for them. Then they bowed to each other. Very carefully he lifted her veil and took her hands in his.

"In all three eternities you are the only one who has moved my heart, Xiaobai. You, little fox, will always belong to me.", he looked deeply into her eyes and promised possessively.

She smiled with stars in her eyes and promised him back, "In any eternity I will bring you in my life. Because I love you the most Dijun, you will always belong to me."

He leaned in and planted kisses on her face. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyes, her nose and then covered her lips with his. He felt her respond to him and deepened the kiss. She trembled and moved closer in his arms. Slowly he moved to her ear. "Ever since I have had this dress made for you, I have imagined so many ways I would like to undress you from it.", he teased huskily. "Um? So you got this elaborate and extravagant dress made only so that you could undress me from it?", she asked pulling back and squinting her eyes at him. "HHmm.. ", he pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. "You are so... ", she started to say, but completely lost her train of thought under his hot, hungry gaze. He claimed her lips again and started undressing her.

#dong hua x feng jiu #fengjiu #bai feng jiu #ten miles of peach blossoms #dong hua dijun #dijun #eternal love of dream #cdrama #chinese drama #dong hua #xiao bai #bai gun gun #vengo gao #dilireba

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thehoneybuzz · 3 years ago

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Chasing Baker

My Nana was my greatest adversary.

In an otherwise charmed life, Nana was an immovable force and the only legitimate challenger to my willpower. Not without the warmth one would expect from a grandmother, Nana could be sharp - like a sun-warmed pane of glass. Lesser hearts might have bent to me when I requested accommodation - but not Nana. Nana set a firm bedtime, insisted on efficient tooth brushing, and rather than negotiate with hair tangles, made short work of them in single, swift wrenches when brushing your hair. No nonsense. When you stayed with her - in one of two twin beds in a room made precisely for grandchildren - you often found yourself in bed with the lights out, with no real memory of having gotten there, swept away in the tide of your sheets. Nana was uncompromising, and no arena was more suited to our mutual stubbornness as the dinner table.

I grew up a notoriously picky eater. After a weekend at my Uncle Jerry's, my mom received a hardcover copy of "The Strong-Willed Child" from him as a gift. He had spanked me for not eating chicken nuggets. As evident by its title, the book was meant to coach my mother on parenting strategies for mitigating my innate obstinance. This would not be the only copy of the book my mother received. Though, I think she could have written one by the time I turned 4. I simply refused to eat the things I didn't like, and that was a long list.

A relative once applauded - clapped his hands together in joy- upon learning that I had graduated from having the crusts cut off my bread to full-blown sandwich eating. The peanut butter and honey sandwich was my signature dish and an absolute staple. I'd like to say I've grown out of it - and I've certainly grown having tried llama steak in Peru, lamb heart at the table of a Lebanese family, and Greenland shark in an Icelandic cafe - but it took me a long time to let go of my habits and permit myself to try, and it took some coaxing. My preferences ran deep.

My diet from ages six through eleven included Eggo waffles, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, an assortment of cereals, a handful of specific fruits and vegetables, and the occasional steak when mom thought my iron was low. My mom - on the advice of a pediatrician who told her that if she force-fed me, I'd develop an eating disorder - catered to this preference. Nana did not. They must have been seeing different pediatricians.

Nana took the clear your plate approach - The approach driven by reward and consequence. Finish your plate, cookies delivered. Fail to try, become hungry and hungrier still as dessert passes you by. I took to swallowing food whole, and my mom took to sending me with granola bars on visitations. She'd line the interior of my suitcase like we were smuggling drugs. I'll admit it was an unusual form of contraband, but the measure seemed necessary in a divorced child's duplicitous world. What my mom saw as nourishment, my Dad might see as undermined parenting strategy even under the best of circumstances - which they often weren't. I was hungry, so decided it best to keep things a secret and wrappers out of the trash.

Despite Nana's apparent best efforts, I avoided the eating disorder. Thanks to my mom, I avoided most foods until my early 20s. I don't know who was right. What I know for certain is that I was loved.

When I sat down with Nana after my trip to Mt. Baker, she clutched her heart as she said. "Ally - to think about you as this little girl - and that you would only eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches - to think of you climbing mountains…" she shakes her head, "… well I just can't believe it."

I started to laugh and asked her, "Want to know the best part?"

She nodded, smile in her eyes, full of that sunny warmth - playful and kaleidoscopic.

"I ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches up and down the side of that mountain, Nana," I told her, laughing, and then we laughed together. Growing up is fun, I thought, especially in moments like this.

Laughing with your grandmother is a gift you receive in exchange for time, and it is a beautiful gift indeed. Here is a woman who bathed you, clothed you, fed you - and by the time you're old enough to understand the magnitude of the life she held before all that, she is often gone. I'm lucky to have this time. Nana is 90 years old now, and my mother's mother passed at 74. I never got to have the conversations I wanted to have with my grandmother, who died. To ask her questions like, 'Who were you?' 'What lifetimes made up the love you gave so effortlessly away?'

There is something about mountain climbing that makes you consider those kinds of questions in real-time. There is something about mountain climbing that makes you feel as if you are in the process of 'becoming.' So when, at the parking lot of Grandy Creek Grocery, I met my fellow climbers and our guides - there was a feeling of anticipation and nervousness about who I'd be sharing that story with. Dropping me off, my mom described it like the first day of kindergarten. The first person I met was Sharon.

I had been worried about Sharon. Weeks before, on the pre-trip Zoom call, she stood out from the digital crowd as the most visibly senior person there. Sharon did not look old - she looked undoubtedly the oldest. I think this is an important distinction - particularly to Sharon. I remember thinking - "I hope she is not on my trip because I'm worried she will show me down." A very judgmental thought and the universe saw to its reckoning. Sharon surprised the hell out of me.

She paced the parking lot, and I jumped out of my rig to greet her. We quickly began commiserating. Baker would be her first mountain. I had Mount St. Helens under my belt, but it's not much in the way of experience. We talked about our training plan, recounting long drives to taller places. Sharon was from Wisconsin, and she had to drive 45 minutes to get to peaks at 3,000 - the same as me in Eastern Washington. We had a lot in common. Where I ran, she had been hiking with weight and jogging. Sharon wasn't afraid of hard work. On our drive to the trailhead, I learned that she had just lost 75 pounds last year. I learned later that when Sharon signed up for this climb, she hadn't told anyone in her family she was doing it. She was 62 years old and had never once traveled alone. What on earth possessed her to climb a mountain? I'd be afraid of that question, too.

Sharon eventually fessed up to her family and made the trip official. That's how we found ourselves on the side of a mountain together. I'm embarrassed to have been so fundamentally wrong - but my confession is not without meaning, and I learned an important lesson. Never underestimate a Sharon.

When Melissa, our guide, described Mt. Baker for the first time, she called it by its indigenous name, Komo Kulshan. She then gave us its epithet - "The Great White Watcher." Having now met Kulshan face to face, I can tell you that's precisely how he feels. The summit looms as you navigate through the trees. Stoic in the face of the wilderness that surrounds him. Ice cold, he waits. In the Lummi language, he's called 'white sentinel.' He is persistent, vigilant, and watching.

I focused my nervous energy on preparing to meet this mountain by learning what I could about him. I learned that Mt. Baker is 10,781 feet tall, an active volcano, and the second most glaciated mountain in the continental united states (Rainier's got it beat, and you don't count Alaska). It's a formidable mountain, known - as nearly all alpine environments are - for its quickly changing conditions and the perils of its geology. This all, somehow, frightened me less than the thought of meeting Melissa Arnot-Reid. Her legend loomed not in the Cascades - where only a single peak resides above the threshold of 14,000 feet by which the Rockies measure their formidable "fourteeners." Melissa's legend loomed as large as Everest, on who's summit she has been six times - the only American woman to summit without the use of supplemental oxygen and survive. 29,032 feet. Melissa was someone I wanted to learn from, and I was scared shitless of her by reputation.

Suffering a bit of social awkwardness around celebrities, I prepared to meet Melissa by seeking to learn nothing about her at all. The antithesis of my mountain strategy - I told myself our experience would be what it was when we met on the mountain. My job was to learn - to ask my questions courageously - and be vulnerable and bold in seeking truth. I spent a fair bit of time wondering if she might be an ass hole, too. The age-old adage, "don't meet your heroes," drifted in and out of my mind.

In the last 15 minutes of our drive to Grandy's, my mom started reading Melissa's Wikipedia page aloud to me as I navigated the road, undoing months of my concerted preparation. I let her continue, greedy for information. "It says she trains by depriving herself of things - that she'll go without food and water."

"Probably a good idea if you're ever going to be stuck on the side of a mountain without it," I told her. I braced myself for a response. In the past few months, my mother had a growing sensitivity around topics that might suggest I could die on the side of a mountain. Admitting, so blatantly, that mountain climbing was a dangerous sport left me vulnerable to excessive mothering accompanied by exclamations of "Don't you dare!" Instead, my mom sort of nodded and continued, "I'm surprised her baby came out healthy."

My brow furrowed. I hated my mother for saying it. I had avoided a lecture from the mother of the mountaineer but failed to account for the mother of the daughter aged-almost-thirty. My uterus is a topic of conversation around my mother's table. Apparently, so was Melissas. Not wanting to discuss either, I let my mother's comment go unchecked as she continued to list accomplishments. "This article says she's focused on business, not emotions. That she is an incredible problem-solver." Now her reports felt more like cheating - it felt like an unfair advantage to meet someone armed with publicly available information about them. When you Google "Allyson Tanzer," you won't find much about my disposition under pressure. I told my mom it was time to focus and turned up the music.

When we parked, and I went to introduce myself to Melissa, three things happened. As I introduced myself, she first quickly let me know that she would not be giving out hugs due to the pandemic. Then, taking my hand in a firm grip, Melissa detailed that she and our other guide, Adrienne, had critical guide business to discuss and would be with us in a moment. She reported being thrilled to be meeting us as she quickly dropped my hand. Within thirty seconds, I was apologizing profusely and backing my way into the grocery. What can I say - first time formally climbing mountains, and I wasn't sure of the protocol. I fiddled with a bag of Cheetohs and continued to hope that she wasn't just an ass hole.

I went to the bathroom for something to do and remembered what my mother said. Task-oriented. I figured Melissa probably didn't hate me, after all. Despite my earlier misgivings, I was grateful to know a bit about her character, regardless of how 'honestly' that information was obtained. Thanks, Mom.

Our climb began. We left Grandy's in a caravan and parked near 3000' at the winter routes trailhead. On the first day, you ascend to 6000' and establish camp. You carry about 40 pounds, walking 1 mile and about 1000 vertical feet per hour, stopping for 15-minute breaks in those intervals. Conditions are warm, which means you're doing something the mountaineers call "post-holing" - ramming deep holes (as if for a fence post) into the ground as you step through snow that's washed out underneath. It's slow-going and rigorous. An hour and a half in, Melissa reports that we're standing in the location where she usually takes the first break. Unseasonably warm weather with a heavy snow accumulation has made for an exciting start.

You walk along a canyon ridge formed by a retreating glacier. You realize that time here is not measured in the same cadence that it's known to you. Mountains measure time in millennium, not decades. The formations of rock are carved by years, not minutes. The ground holds a history you can't conceive of - an ancient history of rock and ice. You are constantly struck by feeling small both physically and in your very chronology. I spent the first day happily in awe.

At camp, you maintain - guides (and playfully designated junior guides), boil snow, establish a base, dig a toilet. You assess whether or not you need to poop in a bag and carry it down the mountain with you as you try - for the first time - a rehydrated meal claiming to be chili Mac and cheese. Melissa teaches us how to walk on rope over a glacier. I try to mimic her knots. She redefines your concept of efficiency - breathlessly describing a packing order that accounts for calorie intake, warmth requirements and weight distribution - Every contingency considered. When I win the Ice Ax Rodeo by landing my thrown ax in a particular configuration - all is right in the world. Melissa is a drill sergeant giving instruction. She outlines the next minute - next five minutes - next hour - next day.

Her matter-of-fact nature reminds me of something. When I gave my parents a ride in an airplane for the first time with me as the pilot in command, I provided them near the same briefing as we were parked on the ramp. It ended dramatically with, "And if anything should happen, you have to exit the aircraft first in the following fashion." At which point I launched myself from the plane. I wanted them to be prepared to fight their instincts to protect me. I’m the only pilot on board - and my job is to protect my passengers, no exceptions. They both described a sense of foreboding and peace at the demonstration. It’s precisely how I felt when Melissa explained how she would be rescuing herself from a crevasse. “If you fall, I get you out. If I fall, I get myself out, but I need your help as an anchor to do so.” She took the approach of coaching us in only what we needed for the next challenge. We would learn crevasse rescue on a need to know basis. At Grandy’s, she told us to expect 48 hours of endurance. At camp, we’re at hour 9. She painted a picture of the following day.

"We'll begin between 11, and 2 am. Expect switchbacks up the glacier, a series of flats, and gains over the next hour. In 3.5 miles, we'll gain an additional 2000 feet - meandering a path through the glacier's crevasses, and it will gradually become steeper over time. About 1.5 miles to the summit, we'll hit the Easton glacier culminating in the Roman Wall. Then, because God has a sense of humor, you have a long flat walk to the summit after the steepest portion. All said it will take us between 5-7 hours to the top."

Frankly, it was just about as simple as that.

My eyes opened at 11:50 pm to the sound of movement outside the tent. Melissa had coached us here, too. "You may not be sleeping," she told us as we readied for 'lights out.' Days from the summer solstice, the sun burned brightly above us at 7 pm. "Remember that you don't need sleep; you need rest. That's what you're getting here at camp. You're horizontal; your feet are out of your boots. Close your eyes, and know you're getting what you need." Felt like a lie, but sure enough, with two hours of sleep, I couldn't describe myself as tired.

I did, however, feel cold. Chilly night temperatures had crept into our tent, and dressing for the day was arduous. I knew to keep my clothes in my sleeping bag. It was a trick I learned from a friend made trekking in the Andes for dressing in the cold. I knew to shorten my trekking poles while climbing, thanks to my guide on that same trek. I'd be leaving my trekking poles behind today, though. Ice axes only. We divide into rope teams. The race begins, but there's no starting pistol - only wind.

Fifteen minutes into our climb and we're struggling to find the rhythm. I'm still shaking the bleariness of the cold. The rope between climbers takes on an interesting dynamic. While it connects you to your fellow climber, it also isolates you from them. You have to maintain a certain distance away from one another while maintaining the same pace. It's a dance with crampons on in glacial ice - a delicate dance indeed - and it's where climbing feels like a team sport. You're all in it together.

Voices rang out in sequence like a game of telephone - one of our team would need to climb down. We said short goodbyes and waited as Adrienne (guide) descended with climber to camp. We were lucky - we hadn’t been climbing long which meant Adrienne could climb down and back to rejoin her rope. Guide redundancy is a safety net when groups of climbers work together.

Darkness continued. We continued. As you persist, darkness seems to persist along with you. In the first hour, it grows heavy. Your world begins and ends at the light of your headlamp, and that's where you find it—your rhythm. Crampons crunching, breath steady, and the gentle swish of your layers create a sort of timpani, a medley of percussion sounds. Clink, brush, crunch, and clink, brush, crunch, as ax bites ice, the movement of your clothes, and the toe of your boot kicks crampon into snow propelling you forward. There isn't much to think about in this grinding meditation. You're grounded in tugs from ahead or behind you as you march, slowly up. You can count steps, miles, feet of elevation - whatever keeps you moving. Whatever keeps you going up.

Moments before sunrise, we would lose another on our team. I listened to Melissa coach her. "What we're headed to is going to be harder than what we've just done. If how you are feeling is taking away from your ability to focus on your next step - I can only tell you that it's not going to get easier from here." That's when I saw the decision on her face. Another round of goodbyes - this one a bit more somber. She had worked so hard.

The decision to descend is a difficult one, but it’s one of the most important you can make. There are steep consequences to being in over your head in a place so remote. The summit is a siren, beware. Melissa - aware of the remaining teams intention to summit - advised us to plug our ears as she told the descending climber the Sherpa belief that a mountain won't let you summit for the first time if it likes you. Mountains bring you back. Further, she coached, the decision to go down can lift an entire team's chance of success if you feel you're a liability. Recognizing yourself and your limitations truthfully is a mountain in itself. That's the summit this person made in her decision to descend.

Like a good Agatha Christie novel, our list of characters dwindled. We added layers and continued - five of the original eight. Melissa was right, again. After we lost the second climber, our ascent became a proper climb. From that point forward, if anyone decided to turn around - we would all have to. There was only one remaining guide, and she had to protect all her climbers, no exceptions - me in the cockpit all over again.

She didn't show it, but 62-year-old Sharon was genuinely frightened. She had realized the same thing I did. If she didn't make it - no one would. Sharon kept climbing. Remember when I was worried she would slow me down?

When the sun starts to rise, everything begins to feel possible again. I don't mean to say that things were hopeless, just that with the sun comes energy and a sense of renewal. Color returns to the landscape, and you can begin to be able to measure your progress concretely. The mountain casts a shadow across the earth, stretching miles. You can't believe that you are contained within that shadow, on the face of such a giant who stands so impossibly tall. Melissa stood there, and I took her picture.

She had turned out to be not an ass hole at all. Where I sought to be her student, she aspired to teach - at once brilliant and kind. Her stride - her sport - a work of art. The precise art of what she calls slow, uphill walking. Her shadow and the shadow of the mountain impressed upon me the power of legends.

As the Roman Wall came into view - I knew we had it. We short rope in and make one last push. If Mt. Baker is a joke from God, the ending of the Roman Wall is its punchline.

Atop the incline awaits a long, easy walk to a haystack peak some few hundred yards in the distance. I was bubbling with emotion as my heart rate settled and the view became clear. There wasn't much difference between where we stood and where we were going. We dropped our packs, unroped, and ran up the summit. I was in tears.

Melissa broke her no-hugs-in-the-pandemic rule and celebrated us each in turn. I snapped countless photos and spent each frozen moment smiling. I pulled Melissa and Sharon in close. I had felt something on my heart and only needed a moment's bravery to share it.

I started awkwardly.

"I'd like to say something to you and Sharon," I muttered, barely audible over the wind, as I tugged on Melissa's sleeve. I grabbed Sharon's arm and pulled her in too. I don't remember the exact thing I said or the exact way in which I said it. I remember pausing to make sure I got it right and wondering for a long time if I managed to do so.

I told them that I had come to the mountain expecting to be impressed by one person. Melissa promised an impressive education - on which she delivered. She is of that rare quality - the kind who’s presence improves you. I came to Baker with that expectation, I confessed, I expected Melissa. I paused before telling Sharon, her gloved hand in mine, “You?” I laughed nervously. “I wasn’t expecting. A 62-year-old woman….” I nodded back to Melissa, “And you, the mother of a 3-year-old…” I didn’t want to get this wrong. “You are two people who our society labels and confines. Yet, here you are - on top of a mountain. I have to tell you….” I was choked up in earnest here and struggled to continue.

"It matters.” I said. “What you do matters. It matters to have an example of what is possible. Both of you have provided that example to me and women like me. Thank you." I sobbed. "I am so grateful for it and grateful for you." Melissa smothered me in her jacket as she embraced me, once again, in a hug. Pandemic be damned. My tears froze. While I expected a "There's no crying in mountaineering" a la Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own (it was a climb of mostly women, after all) the admonishment never came.

Sharon grabbed hold of me next and we shared the alpine view. Before I knew it, we were the last two on the summit. The wind howled a steady cheer. Celebrations concluded, it was time to leave. I stayed for just a moment longer, watching Sharon as she left. They don't make anything more beautiful than a mountain, and it's a view worth savoring. I descended, joyfully, to my team.

I didn't bury Jake up there. In Ashes to Ashes, I told the story of taking my old farm dog's remains to the top of my first volcano. He's not so much a good luck charm as he is an omen of protection. I don't need luck as much as I need safety, and he serves his duty well. Jake stayed with me through our descent to camp. I needed a little protection coming down off the Roman Wall, I thought. I wanted him close until we were off the glacier. He lays now at the foot of my tent—a very good place for a very good dog.

There's a natural mindfulness to climbing. I often find myself living in the present step - not thinking about the route that lies below. You forget in moments that the trip up is accompanied by an equally long and perilous journey down. From the summit, your journey is far from over. Yet, time flies by even as you stop to admire the steam vents. The rainbow that surrounds the sun refracts joy and color the same.

You reach camp, celebrate, pack up. Miles and thousands of feet remain even from there. That's when you realize it's ending and when I realized I didn't want it to end.

We spent the next few miles getting to know each other in earnest, savoring time and mountain views, chatting in the way of long-form hikers - about the nature of things and through storytelling. Melissa regaled us with vulnerable truths and comedic parables. We laughed. I kept sipping at the wells of knowledge around me, drinking in the moments. Laughter distracted from hunger, from wet feet, and from the dull and dim realization that all good things must come to an end. We made our way to the bottom of the mountain. Just like that - we say goodbye.

Sharon drove me back to Grandy's. We chitter like school girls - adrenaline and nostalgia collide in our post-climb delirium. We talk about the future. I realize that we are good friends. I am humbled by just how wrong a person can be to believe something about someone for no good reason.

Mom picks me up, and with her embrace my adventure is over. I’ve come full circle - safe and sound, parked in the lot of Grandy Creek Grocery.

Melissa found us there and knocked on our window.

"Your daughter is really special. The MOST special,” my hero and friend told my mom. Mom beamed with a special pride reserved exclusively for mothers of strong-willed daughters. I had been misreading things - the adventure had only just begun.

There are eight years between Melissa and I. I’m not sure I’ll be chasing Everest in that time, but I know I won’t be finished. I’ve got thirty-three years to catch Sharon at 62. In the mountain blink of sixty-one years, I’ll be as old as my Nana and I hope at least half as wise. Good thing there are so many years - for there is so much left to climb.

#mountaineering #mountains #travel #adventure #adventurephotography #traveling #travelblogpost #mountainclimbing #mt baker

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spacemilkies · 5 years ago

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serendipity || captain allen x reader

for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man.

“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”

The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.

“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”

The android was quiet, her gaze giving you another look over. No doubt cross referencing your heart rate to your words. Perhaps had your husband not been employed at such a high risk job, a simple face recognition scan could have cleared you. But it seemed not even matrimony came with any real civil benefits.

The android completed its assessment.

“I see. Please-”

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”

A visible shudder of relief ripped across your skin as you whipped around. Appearing to be finishing up for the evening, Hank was looked about what you expected him to look first thing in the morning- ready to go home.

It’s easy to offer a smile in disguise of pity. “Figured if he wasn't going to make an effort for dinner, I could at least keep him from starving.”

“Yeah, is that why he’s so cranky? Missing one too many meals?”

Hank’s years of ‘facility’ comradery with your husband managed to bleed into a promising friendship of your own. It was a specific type of working relationship that only your hardened husband could achieve. Frankly most of his more social interactions were bridged by your efforts in some way or fashion.

“Trying to keep him fed is a full time job.”

“Dealing with him period is a fucking career,” he muttered under his breath. Gratefully, Hank waved off the android. “Wife of the fucking SWAT captain, relax would you.”

“I honestly have no idea where he is but we all know his second wife is his desk.”

The obvious joke resonated differently with you than he likely intended for it to. In truth, your husband, his desk … and yourself had a bit of a polymourous relationship, to put it lightly. Not that you would embarrass David by bringing that up now.

Maybe over drinks on night.

Grateful for the unexpected intervention, you took advantage of the reprieve to escape through the security gates while you could. Waving to Hank, you bid him a good night.

“The fourth floor isn’t that big. He can’t hide forever.”

The few officers who did recognize you bid you a mix of greetings and farewells from those eager to return to their own families. As you climbed levels however, the gestures became more strict in the form of salutes and slim smiles that oozed stress.

Rolling your eyes to the roof of the elevator, you began to pray that it wasn't a premonition of what to expect when you finally discovered your husband. You reminded yourself that you were merely there to deliver a meal, not stir up anything that could be settled at home.

Your marriage worked this long because you respected those boundaries. The same ones that had been built without your knowledge back in university.

By the relaxed posture of his assistant it was safe to assume he wasn’t in his office. Rachel confirmed as much with a quick wave.

“Captain Allen is in a meeting, ma’am.”

“Thats fine. Is his office open? Just dropping off dinner.”

She eyed the bag as if it was a saving grace. No doubt a prayer she’d made earlier in the day to try and aleve whatever symptoms were aggravating her boss’ nerves.

If only it was so easy.

“I can get that for you.”

The panel in front of the door switches from red and blue, granting you access. You find yet another reason to send the young woman a nice gift basket. As if all the years of putting up with your husband didn’t earn her a vacation overseas.

Frankly, she might never look back.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

His office is as bleak and bland as the last time you’d entered it. Not even the wealth of his awards managing to permeate the walls. A few of the important credentials made the cut out of sheer necessity. You’d managed to break up the rest of the wall with two scenery photos.

And that was it.

For someone who practically made his office his home, the lack of comfortably baffled you.

Placing the bags on the corner of his desk, you made yourself comfortable in his chair. Your job title aloe made snooping both enticing and forbidden. A thin lace of trust had been bestowed upon you given your connection to one of the largest media networks in the city. While your husband’s authority gave you more liberties than most it didn’t mean it couldnt be ripped away.

So against your journalist instinct, you kept your hands to yourself while you twiddled with a simple app on your phone. Fortunately, your husband didn’t keep you waiting long before you heard Nancy sharp cry of warning.

“Oh! Wait sir, your-”

You don’t know who is more surprised when you husband enters his office unaware. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he recognizes your silhouette by his desk, Nancy’s warning long forgotten. He looked like he was ready to chew out his next victim of the day and you could only snort in amusement.

“Really, David.”

He’s wearing your favorite hoody of his- one you know come with a plethora of replacements but not a single is ever given to you despite your insistence. You’ve taken to wearing them briefly after laundry loads, while the house is to yourself. By the time he makes it home, its nestled comfortably in his drawer as if it was never touched.

A secret compromise.

The door slides shut behind him as he approaches the desk. Affections pleasantly not forgotten as he leans down to peck at your cheek,“Its late, you didn't have to come by.”

“Well, I was hungry too. Figured you wouldn't want your food to get cold. Reheating meat will sometimes make it tough.”

David took the opportunity to peek into the paper bags, a hint of a smile triggering wider one for you when he recognized one of his favorites. You watched quietly as he unpacked the food, not missing how he arranged things carefully to keeps your safely confined while setting aside his own.

It was an easier dismissal when you were expecting it.

The hard edge of your neglected badge bit into your skin as you adjusted yourself against the desk, “Trying to get rid of me so soon, captain. I didn’t even get to opportunity to ask my questions yet.”

Unraveling the warmth of a freshly baked roll, your husband gave you an unamused grimace before taking a bite from the buttery loaf.

“The SWAT team is not currently accepting any questions nor has any scheduled plans to council the press for ongoing operations.”

Your smile is as dangerous as your job implies, “So you guys are working on something top secret.”

“Would be home if it wasn’t.”

That was a lie and you both knew it. David would always find something to keep him occupied in his career. It had built him up and functioned as his stability. You were mere crutches on the sidelines waiting until you were needed.

As simple as it would be to challenge the claim, you thought better of it. Instead you continued to eat up time, relaxed comfortably in his chair while your husband was distracted with his meal. It seemed that his hunger had gotten to a point where he was reluctant to entertain anything that isn't satisfying his stomach.

“Strip was sold out, so I hope skirt is okay?”

Your husband wasn’t huge on grilling like some of the neighbors in your area but he did appreciate a good steak. Sometimes if you were lucky, he would even surprise you with a nice dinner in the kitchen on the rare occasions he actual beat you home or the scarcer days off.

Using his teeth, David fought the crackle of the plastic wrapped utensil set,” Smells good, baby. Thank you.”

His obvious appreciation warmed you enough to coax a bit of boldness out of you. Walking your fingertips closer to the bag, you tugged it closer. “The renovators called back. They can fit us in next weekend to resurface the shower.”

Your house wasn’t old but there had been some changes you’d promised yourself when you’d first moved it. Earlier in your marriage, you had hoped to make a couples project out of it. But as the years passed, you began to understand that if you didn't get someone else on the job it wasn't going to get done.

Carefully pulling your own box free, you kept your voice even as your poked through your meal. “I’m having my mom come meet them that Thursday so they can do a final walkthrough for a quote. I’ll be home for the other days.”

“You’re not worried she won't change your plans?”

Twirling your pasta around your fork, you gave his question a thoughtful pause. It had crossed your mind. Your home wasn’t the first thing she had tried to intervene in. But you had made your own wishes noted in the initial meeting. Having your mother there was just supervision at this point.

“Nah, I'll be there for all the real work. I really just need her to keep Kaius calm.”

Retired from service but certainly not an impression on his age, the eight year old shepard still took his training seriously at home. It made it difficult to let anyone into the house without one of you there to assure him it was okay. The task was still difficult for you without David’s overwhelming presence to settle the canine.

Resting his hip against the corner of the desk, your husband became visibly more relaxed into the conversation as he balanced the bottom of his togo box on his hand. “I don’t mind if he comes to work. He should be fine in my office for a day.”

You shrugged,”It's all worked out.”

At most, you were expecting one human to supervise a few androids. As impersonal as it made the job, it certainly didnt put a damper on efficiency. You expected nothing less than the projected project.

He surprised you by leaning in then to press a quick kiss to your lips, a sneaky swipe of tongue catching the splash of sauce previously unknown to you. When you look up, he was watching you with that analytical look.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Caught, you could only smile sheepishly as you pointed the fork in his direction. “This is nice, don’t ruin it.”

Humming thoughtfully, your husband eventually returned to his own meal.

David finished well before fullness crept in for you, his own haste favoring time over taste. But he was getting his nutrition so you found it hard to complain.

A few tedious comments came to mind but none of them felt strong enough to tether him to a conversation. Accepting the time you got gratefully, you began putting away the leftovers to take home.

“I’m off tomorrow so you don’t need to tip toe. I’ll leave the light on above the stove.”

Sometimes you found it funny how much your friends raves about the life you must have being married to a SWAT captain. Overwhelmed by their own fantasies of rugged encounters and frantic passion.

It was true on occasion. There were times that the stress of the job encouraged his hands to be a little more rough. Or time constraints found you bent over something convenient with your panties jerked to the side.

As thrilling as it was, the novelty wore off quicker than it did in literature.

There wasn’t a day you weren’t thankful of how well your husband aged, you just wanted more opportunities to appreciate it.

You rise from your seat, expecting a final kiss of gratitude before you went on your way.

You hasn’t realized your eyes had slid closed until they were opening in confusion at the touch of his thumb against your cheek. Against your better judgement, you leaned into the brief show of affection, lips parting to accept the pad of his finger.

You know it won’t lead to much but the small stirrings it causes is worth the brevity. You crave his closeness whether he’s away like any wife would. But loving David Allen takes the punch of out love and jackhammers a new meaning into it.

“”Thank you.”

The sincerity of it pressures your heart and your eyes close voluntarily this time, just wishing he would meet your expectation.

There is a pause, the silence tarnished by your audible sigh. Part of it is drawn back in a sharp gasp when his nose bumps against your own, then his lips find yours.

The kiss is slow and measured, familiar even as you dare to run your palms down his front. His stomach curls under your touch, the lean muscle jumping slightly as your fingers challenge the hem of his pants.

Swallowing, you taunt further with another tug. Venerability paints itself a lovely shade against your skin, coating you in a rosy blush. This wasn’t your arriving plan. But years have taught you that planning ahead rarely went well with David.

Carefully, you reach up and thumb the curve of his lower lip and draw him even closer. Even breaths waft over your face. Measured well, despite the proposition offered before him.

In a mess of tongue and teeth, you whisper his name and teeter his resolve in the same breath.

It has been a very long time since he’s humored an excursion like this and you’re patting yourself on the back for taking the chance.

His mouth teases the skin at the nape of your neck and you wonder how far he plans to take this. His nose brushes against your ear next, nuzzling just under the curve where he knows you like it best.

Your shirt rides up as he rolls his body against you, his hands quick to tend to your warm skin. His thumb teases the underside of your bra and it’s difficult not to let your mind wander.

Chest rising and falling in erratic intervals, you finally put a voice behind your desires.

“Will fuck me here?”

David breathes in sharply then and for a moment you’re worried he’ll pull back to he senses. Your heart flutters nervously, awaiting a curt dismissal. But then a knee nudges firmly between your thighs and you find yourself biting your cheek to contain your grin.

He continues to mouth at your neck while his hands answer your question, quickly and efficiently working at your belt. The hand not holding you in place slips under the hem of your pants with practiced ease.

It will have to be quick but part of the thrill is inherit in the act itself. You know you’re already wet before his fingers reach their destination, his thumb flicking against your clit as his fingers curl into your sticky wetness.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? That’s why you came so late at night. Hoping to bride me into a quick fuck for your troubles?”

Part of you wished that had been your intention. You would have tried a hell of a lot harder if you’d known he’d be this willing.

Sorry, Nancy.

There was always something sinfully dangerous about being taken in his office. To think the place where the city puts most of its trust will be defiled by your marital affairs will never fail to get you in the mood.

David catches you before you can get careless, moving the food a safe distance away from your body before pressing you firmer against the desk. He doesn’t pay much attention to your breast but the stimulation from being pressed into the desktop makes up for it. Nothing else matters however when he’s dragging down his pants and your own with hast movements and lining himself up.

It’s a slow sink- deep as he allows you time to open up for him.

The situation doesn’t allow for it to be drawn out much longer than that. The frivolous teasing prior had already eaten into your limited time of unsuspicion. Not to mention any concerning noises that might permeate the door.

David does the sound control for you, risking quiet grunts as he digs his grip into the curve of your hip. His pace is slow but firmly backed by his weight as he quite literally fucks the air right out of your lungs, thrust near hard enough to shake the desk.

He lifts his hips slightly, just enough too prod for the right angle, hitting that same spot again and again as you grip desperately at his arms. You return the favor, stealing his groans as you kiss back as vehemently as his hips grind into you. It only takes one good strategic thrust to capsize you under your simmering climax.

You remember a time, fumbling in college when you had to remind him to be wary- to pull out. Even early in your marriage you’d been cautious.

Now, it was welcomed. The fact of not trying to try bleeding into a kink to take off the edge of pending results. You’d decided mutually to accept a child if the possibility arose but you wouldn’t make an intentional effort.

Nearing your forties now, it wasn’t a forgotten proposition but it hardly factored into your mindset. It’s no where near innocent as your ankles dig firmly into his lower back, drawing him closet and locking him in.

Your husband’s hips stuttered briefly as his fingers reassessed their grip before he resumed his pace with firmer thrusts. Each one bouncing off the round of your backside. The hand at the base of your spine keeps you anchored- not that you’d made any attempt to disagree with anything he was giving you.

He seemed to reward you for that, a lazy thumb counting your vertebrae in its travels, eliciting a quivering pleasure.

“Maybe this is the key, huh? You’re always so much more receptive when there is the potential for audience.”

He knows and fuck, you miss that voice. The way it rumbles deep in his chest before tumbling out in timber.

“Of course, I’d never let them see. But I’d be happy to show off the results, hmm?”

His hands slid to your flank before curling around to flatten against the plane of your belly. It stays there, stroking the pseudo curve implanted in his head.

He encourages you to grind back into his quickening thrusts, the fingers at your hip dragging you back in assistance. Whining, you dip your chest and arch your back. Your actions echo your thoughts. Faster. More. Deeper. Please

“That's what you want, right? For me to fill you up, baby?”

God… you drool around the thought. Your words fumbling around gurgles as you attempt to collect yourself enough to stop moaning and properly respond. Blood rushed in your ears and floods down your body. Working yourself up from your toes, you flex them, pushing your weight to your feet and lifting. It offers you a better advantage to pushing back into each eager thrust.

Rather than praise your efforts, your husband only returns your gesture by carding his fingers through your hair. Tightening. Shoving down.

“Fuck, yes, Dav-“ You hiss when he knocks particularly hard against your cervix to which he mends with an apologetic kiss to the back of your head. His thrust slow marginally, just enough to regain control before he’s coaxing you again with a nip to the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, kitten.”

You reach for something-not sure of what. Neither does he it seems, but his hand finds yours anyway to which you curl them both the fabric of your chest.

“I want it all-please.”

He jerks you back-once...twice before suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the weight of him on top and the pressure of him inside.

You lie there for a short time, uncomfortable, but too laced by exhaustion to do much else. The feeling of fatigue crept onto you both with out warning, using the disguise of passion to worm its way inside.

He’s not perfect. Neither yourself or this marriage. But where most had doomed you both to fail, mutual perseverance told the rest to go fuck themselves.

There wasn’t much else either of you could offer to the remaining hours of the night. With that resolve, your slow rhythmic strokes against your husband’s back came to a halt, slightly rousing him in the process.

“Mhmm, come home with me, yeah?”

He heaves a sigh but you know you have him.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

#detriot become human #captain allen x reader #captain allen #dbd imagines #captain allen imagines #captain allen headacanons #my contribution to the dau #see i wrote a thing

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gracevilliers · 6 years ago

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Blood of my blood, Part 2 || Grace & Yamina

Yamina woke up first, if only because she was attuned to this. As a human she always woke up when dawn broke; as a vampire she habitually woke at dusk. She opened her eyes to find the Huntress - the Huntress no more still cradled against her chest. The blonde creature looked pale, paler than usual when she'd been mortal. A pang of sorrow and grief shot through Yamina's tired frame as she stroked her fledgling. All the pain and grief she'd felt losing her other children now poured directly into this one. Her new child. And Yamina realized then as she touched the golden hair that Grace Villiers was not just her only child now, but she would be her last. No more progeny after this one. Yamina would dedicate the rest of her immortal life doting on Grace and Grace alone.

Yamina In one way it was still partly revenge. To give this ex-Hunter everything a vampire had to offer as her Sire. To treat her with the utmost attention and groom her to become a perfect specimen of vampirism. To make her Hunter family and everyone who knew Grace for her vampire-slaughtering skills and tracking abilities, feel grief and mourning. Because in their human eyes, Grace Villiers the proud Hunter, was now an abomination. A beast who needed to be put down. Nothing more than the monsters she took pride in killing. Now she was the one they had to kill. Yamina hoped it would shatter their miserable, wretched beating hearts.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and a skinny old man entered, pausing in shock at the damage in the bedroom, at Yamina out of her coffin and holding an Englishwoman. "Mistress, is everything alright?" the thrall asked, bowing and servile in his concern. Yamina nodded. "Yes boy," she replied, although the man was almost 65. "Did you bring food?" The old man nodded and dry-washed his hands, scampering back out and returning with three different people, all tied and blindfolded and scared. One was a young woman from the Far East; the other a teenaged boy; the third was a burly pale red-headed man. Yamina looked at them and the pointed one finger towards the adult man. "Him. Is he from one of the prison ships?" The thrall nodded proudly, knowing he'd chosen well when Yamina smiled. "Leave him and return the others. My child will be waking up soon."

It felt like awakening from a dream. Slow and groggy, the world coming into view around Grace with a dim greyness. Her body ached, though in her barely conscious state, she couldn't consciously understand the reasons for it just yet. Half from the battle, and half from her transition. She was heavy-eyed and heavy-souled, as if her body carried the weight of what had been done to her before her mind could piece it together. Grace awoke, limbs languid and stiff, but immediately taut and tense when she realized someone was holding her. How ironic that such gentle and loving hands should have done such violence to her. She struggled, pulling away and scrambling to her feet. The room stank, she realized, her enhanced, starving senses picking him out. Like human. "What the bloody hell did you do to me?" Grace spat, knowing the answer before the words had even left her lips.

Yamina rose gracefully and seemingly with a lack of effort (although it did take some effort). "I think you know, Grace," Yamina replied. She straightened her gown and went to pick up her coat, pulling it on as if to shield herself from the mortal environment around her. "You're weak, my dear, but I admire your strength nonetheless. Are you hungry?" Yamina was sure Grace was starving. As a fledgling, hunger was a sensation that usually overtook everything else, consumed a vampire until they learned to control those baser instincts. With a good Sire of course, someone who could teach them to temper those uncontrollable impulses. "Do you smell him? Not the stink of his skin, but the blood underneath. Can you hear his heart?" She motioned languidly to the burly man, who was trying to break out of his bonds. "Wot's that then? Just a couple of whores trying to scare me then? I'll give ye something to be scared of, girls," the man growled, neck flexing.

Grace had never felt so many sensations before. The very air around her seemed to be a living thing. She could hear every movement, every rustling piece of fabric on the wind outside, every voice from surrounding patrons of the nearby marketplace, the rustling of coin in someone's pocket, and yes, the heartbeat, so loud that it overtook almost everything else. Where were her weapons? She glanced around for them, but the vampire must have disposed of them before Grace had collapsed. "I... I'm going to be sick," she answered, her physical hunger, her desperation, her need for blood, all at war with everything she had ever been taught, with her own disgust. "I'll kill you for this."

"You may," Yamina replied with a sad smile as she watched Grace with calm for careful eyes. She couldn't help the smile turning a little piqued at Grace completely ignoring the human. No concern for the man just yet, not while she was fully consumed in her own throes of agony and dilemma. "Or you may learn to accept it. Only the weak-willed cannot handle this gift. Only the weak-willed throw this gift away, like an unthinking fool. I do not think you are foolish, my child." The blindfolded man was clearly agitated by being completely ignored despite his leers and threats and he managed to shift his blindfold up past one eye, to see the two women. "Ey girlie," he tried to cajole Grace. "Why don't you get of yer lil negress servant here and let's you and me have some real fun, ey?"

Grace was even more annoyed by the vampire's calm and careful tone, the way she addressed Grace so simply and plainly, not even rising to agitation. She could at least have fought with her, argued with her, instead of simply reasoning with her like a sensible human. For a sensible human she was not. "Shut up, shut up," she hissed, repeating the words, trying to ignore her pounding senses, the sickening desire in her to feed. "I'm neither weak nor a fool, but I won't be a monster, either!" The ugly man was addressing her with ugly words. Grace scoffed. The more he spoke, the harder it was for her to ignore the pounding of his heart, the warm red liquid that flowed through his body. Did he really think she was in the mood to be flirted with? "Shut. Up." She repeated, snarling almost in spite of herself, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing.

"No, you are not a monster. You are so much more than that," Yamina said, all low and honeyed words. She was hungry herself, but like all good mothers she wanted her child to eat first before she'd take a single sip. "I understand what it must be like, to be trained as a Hunter. Born into it, told over and over that your cause was right, and your enemy was wrong. No questions meant no faltering. You were righteous; after all, your elders taught you this. Why should you ever wonder if your actions were wrong?" Yamina crossed to the other side of the room, giving Grace a wide berth to explore her own overload of senses and emotions freely. "That is not true strength, my dear. That is zealotry hiding behind violence." Yamina raised her chin, eyes flaring in some contained excitement as Grace turned on the man finally and acknowledged his presence with a threat of her own. The man looked confused and surprised. "A criminal, scum no doubt." Yamina came closer, turned the man's head to look at her. The vampire's eyes turned golden, mesmerizing. "Tell me boy - what was your crime?" Compelled to answer, the man replied, "I - I killed me wife. And me little girl. The screamin'...the screamin'...I liked it." Yamina stared coldly at him and then at Grace. "And this is what you used to protect? From me?"

Grace squeezed her eyes closed. She knew it was dark, and yet it didn't feel dark to her, an enhanced nocturnal vision disorientating her. She felt like she could no longer tell night from day. She shook her head. The words falling from her sire's lips were the words of the devil, she told herself. "Liar," she hissed. "You feed and you kill and you want me to do the same." But she wanted it too. The warmth of his skin was too much for her to handle. Grace wet her lips with her tongue. Her fingertips buried in his skin made her all the more conscious of his flesh, his blood. "You're disgusting," she said, unsure whether she was talking to him, the vampire, or herself. Perhaps it was all three. He was a killer. So why shouldn't she just sink her teeth into him? The very thought itself was the only encouragement she needed, and she slammed him against one of the very walls she had been thrown against just hours before, sinking her teeth into him and devouring him.

Yamina had nothing to say as Grace refuted her, tried desperately to hold on to that morality of the Hunters. Their code and their scripture and their belief, it was strong. It was admirable, really, if Yamina hadn't just had her children slaughtered by them like cattle. The man's way to handle this would be to break Grace down and build her back up, but Yamina Moire had rejected man's methods a long time ago. It was what made her so strong in the Vampire Councils across the continent - yet at the same time, it had made her vulnerable to the other vampire's fears and jealousy. Like scrabbling rats, just as Hunters described them. Just because she believed in the old ways did not mean she would adhere to the methodologies of men. Grace was her baby - and compassion for her children was always Yamina's way. Even if she'd hated Grace as a human, she felt that intrinsic Progeny-Sire bond forming between them now. Now, as Grace slammed the human filth against the wall and sank her teeth into his neck. "One bite now," Yamina coaxed her. "Try to get one good bite, and the blood will flow." As Grace drank though, Yamina picked up the man's wrist and bit into it as well. For as much as she loved her newborn daughter, the elder vampire knew she couldn't stay weak while Grace grew strong. To make that mistake would spell her doom. She fully believed Grace would attack her next.

Grace felt a wave of relief wash over her new body as the blood flowed into her. Her brain was less foggy, her muscles less achy, her skin clearer. The smell was intoxicating. She drank and drank and drank, listening to the soothing sounds of her sire's encouragement and for a moment, not even able to be angry about it or disgusted by it. She simply drank until the blood flowed no more and the man fell dead to the ground, like the wife and daughter he had put there. Yamina had been drinking too. She looked almost proud. Something in Grace was happy about that, their instinsic fond forming in spite of Grace's prior feelings. The contradictions melded together. "....What do you do with the body?" Grace wondered out loud.

Yamina gave a languid flick of her hand. "I have thralls to take care of that, they're very useful. Humans who want to be in the presence of vampires, entranced by is, by our beauty...." She came closer, motioned to a standing mirror so Grace could see herself. She was always stately and beautiful but now as a vampire and just fed, she was practically glowing, a preturnatural beauty. "It's a low-level compelling that keeps them loyal, all of it agreed upon. Some people are made to serve. Others, to enjoy the fruits of their labour." It was a very old-fashioned concept, that only recently in history was being questioned in the name of civility. But Yamina was old-fashioned in her ways. "My dear I must say, you aren't just my progeny, but you're also a prodigy. I've never had a child so controlled, so self-disciplined." Yamina supposed it was all that Hunter training.

Grace furrowed her brow. Thralls. The thought left distaste in her mouth. Too bad that distaste was overpowered by blood. She'd never drank something so delicious in all her life. And she hated herself for it. She'd just killed someone. She'd killed a killer. Why was it so different now? She told herself she killed murderers every time she went hunting. "You call this control?" She scoffed, regarding the body on the floor and gesturing to it. "He's dead. If that's what passes for discipline to you, I'd hate to see chaos."

"You would hate to see the chaos. Don't be a prude, child. Somehow I don't buy it. You've seen far too much to pretend you don't understand chaos, haven't stared it down and refused to accept it. I see it now, in the way you feed." Because Yamina had seen worse, far worse. Fledglings that were little more than rabid animals, tearing into flesh and soaking themselves in blood. Yamina loved all her children yes of course; but the animalistic ones always disappointed her a little. Not Grace though. "Come out into the night with me, see what new joy this world has to offer you in the moonlight. Unless you're still intent on murdering me?"

"Don't call me 'child'," Grace hissed through gritted teeth still coated in the man's blood. The fangs felt as if they took up too much room in her mouth. She had to focus to retract them. "I've seen chaos. When your kind drink the streets dry and leave bodies ripped open in the gutter. I kill your kind to stop that from happening, not be part of it." And yet, as angry as she had been when she had first awoken, she couldn't claim to want to kill the other woman. Sire bond, or something else, Grace wasn't sure, but it was infuriating. "I want to go home." She had only just asked to not be called child, only to sound like one. "But that will never happen, thanks to you. If you think we're going to be friends..."

"Did you kill his kind too?" Yamina asked, motioning to the dead criminal. "Why stop with vampires? If you believe so strongly that you have justice and righteousness on your side, why not kill anyone who disturbs your idea of 'peace'? You have the ability. Pray tell my dear - what do you do with vampires bodies, once you've destroyed their immortal life? Don't be so sanctimonious," she spat, unable to stop herself from getting a little worked up about it. "Humans are just as terrible if not worse. Oh, you have your laws and courts - but who do those rules truly benefit? His wife and child? He was still alive, he still got to sruvive. Until you made use of him. And such a good use too, because you deserve to be fed by his blood. Because you'll survive, even if you murder me. I don't believe you will never kill yourself, even now. Stick to your morals if you prefer. Kill only those who you deem to be killed, in all your worthiness. But make no mistake, my child - you have always been a killer. A killer of both innocents and murderers alike. That has not changed."

"Because vampires aren't human. There's a difference. Humans get hanged. They don't hang vampires at the Old Bailey because they don't know they exist. That only leaves us." She still spoke about them like they were separate, as if she wasn't one of them now, as if she was still a hunter. Grace stared at her sire through eyes damp with a mix of anger, hurt and frustration. She should have killed her. She should have been better. But she had failed. This was the price she would pay. Whether she would have the courage to kill herself in the sunlight, Grace wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't stay here. "I will never be your child," she said, pushing open the doors to the balcony and dropping from the first storey with newfound strength and agility, heading out into the night.

#chatzy #paras #with: yamina

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