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thxliaaa · 2 years

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it changes everything | steve harrington

synopsis - before you and steve divorced, you found out you were pregnant with his baby but didn’t tell him because you didn’t want it to influence his decision about the divorce.

pairing - steve harrington x reader

genre - angst. secret pregnancy trope ;)

warning/s - mentions of pregnancy, blood, miscarriage, divorce, fighting.

author’s note - japril’s divorce broke my heart, they deserved better <3

based on one of the scenes from grey’s anatomy

also i’m so sorry for the steve only content. I've been obsessed with him these past few days. i promise to post about the other characters soon so stay tuned.

ps. in this imagine, the younger group is like 15-16 whereas the older group is like 25-26

part two

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The day you got married to Steve was the happiest day of your life. At first, everything was perfect. Both of you never left the honeymoon phase. Sure, the two of you might have arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. You always knew that Steve wanted six babies, and the thought of it never fails to bring a smile to your face. However, when the two of you started trying for a baby, that’s when everything started to fall apart.

Test after test, everything would always result in a negative one. You were getting weary of expecting something big, yet get nothing in return. Steve would always comfort you after everything even though he too was getting exhausted of being optimistic thinking that one day two lines might appear on your pregnancy test. That was until one night.

Seeing two lines in the pregnancy test in your hand, you were ecstatic about this. You were finally gonna be a mother. When you told Steve about the good news over dinner, he was overjoyed. A tiny blob was finally growing inside of you.

Steve was protective over you, he would never let you do simple things by yourself, he would always insist on doing it for you. You two were happy. But as they all say, everything good must come to an end.

One night, you had just finished doing the dishes until you started to feel something running down your thighs. You went to the bathroom to check on it, and you saw blood. You started to feel pain on your lower abdomen, and in that moment, you knew something was wrong.

You grabbed the telephone that was on the bathroom counter and quickly dialed Steve. Once he answered, you told him about the predicament that you were in. "Steve, I'm bleeding so much right now"

As you said those words, Steve wasted no second at all and rushed to see his boss and told him about your current situation. Once he was permitted to go, he went to his car then started driving as fast as he could.

When he got home, he saw you lying on the floor with blood surrounding you. He quickly picked you up then started driving to the hospital to get you the help you needed.

Once he got there, he fought with the nurse just to make sure you get the medical attention you needed, and as soon as a doctor got to you, his hands ran through his hair because of worry and sat down. He was worried about you.

As soon as you woke up, you were greeted with bad news. You had lost the baby. The good news didn’t even seem like good news to you, the thought about you losing your baby was the only thing on your mind right now. Why was life so unfair? You’ve done everything right, yet you get this in return? Everything felt like a fever dream.

Weeks had passed and you shut everyone out. You knew Steve was trying hard to cheer you up, but even he had to fight his own battles with his own demons. Trying to conceive a baby was hard enough, but losing the baby you had tried so hard to create was even harder. You felt as if a part of you died that day.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain was unbearable. Every night, you would cry yourself to sleep with Steve hearing your soft sobs as he tried to console you, but nothing helped.

Steve has had enough one day so he decided to confront you about it. “When are you gonna move one, (Y/N)?”

You turned to look at him in disbelief. Was he really asking you this question right now? Is he that insensitive that even you miscarrying was nothing to him?

“When I’m ready, Steve” You scoffed. “We’ve been trying for months and having the thing we tried so hard to get stripped away from us is hard for me” You added.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I can’t believe you right now. Do you think this isn’t hard for me?”

“I lost a child too, (Y/N)!” He exclaimed. “The best thing you can do right now is at least help yourself accept that it happened.” Steve added.

“I can’t help you all the time, honey. It’s time you accept that our baby is gone.” He stepped closer towards you as he hugged you. “We can try again, (Y/N). We can always try again”

You closed your eyes as you sighed. “I know, it’s just that this is hard for me. I’m sorry, Steve”

“I know, baby. Let’s just stay like this for a while” And that was what you did.

Though that small talk may have worked a little, you still shut everyone around you out. Sure, you and Steve had your little arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. However, Steve started to drift away from you.

You started to notice this because of the way he acted. He became colder than usual and whenever you would ask him about his day, he would always respond with “It's nothing, just the usual” everyday. The consequences of your actions had finally started to show.

So, you tried to be better, day by day, you picked yourself up piece by piece. You weren’t fully healed, but you were definitely better than before. Realizing that there’s no point in crying over something that happened, you decided to accept what had happened to you and let your baby move on to a better place.

One night, when Steve got home, he went to the master bedroom to rest. You were building up the courage to tell him that you were ready to try again, but you were scared. Sitting down on the cold bathroom floor, tears started rolling down your face. Thoughts started filling your head. “What if this won’t work and we fail trying to conceive a baby again?” “What if it was a success yet you miscarry again?”

Still, you ignored those negative thoughts and wiped the tears off of your face. You finally worked up the courage to tell Steve that you were ready to try again. Walking into the bedroom, you saw Steve laying down on the bed as he was watching TV.

When you entered, he glanced at you for a second then back at the TV again. “Steve” you said softly as he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“I think I’m ready to try again”

“What?” He asked as you repeated what you had said. “I said, I think I’m ready to try again for a baby” You sat down on the bed beside him as he did the same thing.

“Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you to do so. I’m ready whenever you’ll be ready” He said as he held your hand in his. “I’m ready now, Steve”

“Are you sure?” He looked into your eyes as you nodded in return. His hands were on your face as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

And you spent your entire night making love with him for the first time in months.

The predicament did not change, even after trying and trying, you still were getting negative results back. You were getting pessimistic again.

With that, the two of you started drifting away from each other often burying yourselves with work to avoid interacting with each other. If you did talk, it would only be an exchange of 2-3 words. It turns out that you weren’t the only one who noticed this, Steve did too, and he decided to do something about it.

One night, you and Steve were eating dinner in silence after work, only the sound of utensils filled the air. That was until Steve finally spoke.

“I want to get a divorce”

The clattering of your utensils stopped at his remark. You raised your head to look at him only to see him already looking at you. “Why?” you let out softly.

“Because it’s not the same anymore, I miss the old us. But we both know that’s not gonna happen again” He stated. “What would happen if we tried again and again and got the same results every time? Would you still act the same as you did before? Would you let me pick you up over and over again?” He asked.

“I’m getting tired too, (Y/N). I think it’s best if we go our separate ways” He said.

You were stunned and stayed still in your position. You knew that he was right, and you didn’t bother fighting him. Tears just started rolling down your face as you let out a soft “Ok” in agreement with what he said. Steve’s heart broke at the sight of you, but he knew that this decision was for the best.

That was until you started experiencing pregnancy symptoms. Nausea, sensitive to certain smells, and most importantly, your period was late. Other things could’ve been the cause of it too, but you knew that it would be better to know if it was what you think it was.

You bought a pregnancy stick from a store, and as soon as you got home, you peed on it. Two lines appeared on it. You were pregnant. Joy was the only emotion you had right now. But it was soon replaced with sadness.

You wanted to tell Steve so badly, but you knew that if you did, it would change his perspective on the divorce. You didn’t want him to stay with you just because of your baby, you believed that two people should stay together because they love each other, not because of a child. So, you decided not to tell him about it.

The divorce did happen after a few weeks, and Steve let you have the house. Your morning sickness wasn’t getting any better.

When you were walking around the mall to find baby items. You saw Steve and another girl with him. They were holding hands and kissing every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. That used to be you and him. But, you just ignored them and continued shopping.

This secret was getting too heavy for you to hold on to so you had decided to tell your bestfriend, Robin.

You, Steve, and Robin were close since high school and up till now. Robin was the first one to know about the divorce before you told the others about it. And now, Robin would be the first one to know about your secret pregnancy with yours and Steve’s baby.

Once you told Robin about the news, she was so excited to find out that she was going to be an aunt. She caressed your belly as she started talking to the baby inside of you.

“So how far along are you?” She asked. You sighed, “I haven’t gone to the doctor ever since I found out about this. The only time I went was to find out if I really was pregnant or not” You replied.

“What? That’s nuts! You should go to the doctor to at least find out if the baby is healthy or not!” She exclaimed. “No! I won’t go to the doctor, not until I finish my first trimester. I’m scared that I’m gonna miscarry again. So no, I won’t go and nothing you say will make me change my decision about it” You fought back.

“(Y/N) that’s dumb! You need to go to the doctor!”

“Enough! I will go when I end my first trimester and my decision is final” You replied back as you slumped in your seat. Robin didn’t put up any more fight with you, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to change your mind about it, so she decided to go to the person she knew who could maybe help.

You always had game nights on Fridays at Nancy and Jonathan’s place. They got married a few months after you and Steve did. This would be the first time you'd face Steve after your divorce.

Everyone except you was already there when Steve had arrived. He greeted everyone in the room until Robin pulled him aside into the kitchen to talk with him.

“So, how are you Steve?” Robin asked as Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you asking me that in general or is it about the divorce?” He queried.

“Uhh, both?” Robin smiled awkwardly as Steve raised one of his eyebrows at her. “Well I’m good in general and I’m doing well after the divorce. I’ve been seeing other people now”

“Wow that didn’t take long at all” Robin scoffed as Steve defended himself “Hey, Hey! It’s been a few weeks since the divorce, okay?”

“I waited and did not get right into it unlike other people” He added as she sighed at her friend. “Ok that’s good. I need to go now” She said but Steve pulled her back before she could even go.

“How’s (Y/N) doing?” He asked worried about his ex-wife. “She’s doing good” Robin replied hesitantly before facing Steve.

Robin took a deep breath before telling Steve the truth that her best friend hid from him. Something that haunted her every single night debating whether or not to tell Steve about it. “(Y/N)’s pregnant”

Steve stood there dumbfounded from what Robin had revealed to him. “It's yours, and she’s refusing to go to the doctor and I need you to convince her to go because she won’t. She just won’t go.”

Just as soon as he was about to reply, the front door opened revealing you. “So, I forgot to bring something but I ordered pizza, and I- Ooh is that Nancy’s cupcakes I smell? I need to have a taste of that” you giggle as you remove your shoes.

Steve walked towards you furious that you kept your pregnancy from him. “Oh hi” you smiled at him, but he didn’t return the smile back.

“Since when did you know?” He asked. “What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Since when did you know you were pregnant?”

You froze. Robin told him about it. You turned to face Robin who was behind Steve with a worried look on her face. “You told him about this?” you exclaimed at her.

“She did, but that’s not the point. You told Robin and not me?” He asked. “I don’t have time for this right now Steve”

“Then when do you have time? Were you even planning on telling me about this?” He raised his voice at you. Everyone’s eyes were now at the both of you. “Steve, please don’t. Not here, not right now.”

“You had enough time to tell me about this even before the divorce. You don’t think a pregnancy would have affected my decision to go forward with a divorce?” He asked

“I knew it would! But you didn’t want to stay with me!” You exclaimed. “People should stay married because they love each other, not because of a baby!” you added.

“You think I want you to stay for my baby–” “Our baby” “And have you hating me for the rest of my life?” you argued with him.

You and Steve continued to exchange more words until Nancy pulled you two apart from each other. “Hey, stop this now! There are teenagers watching you guys. Settle this some other time." She said.

The two of you were now staring at each other furiously. “This doesn’t change anything, Steve”

Steve scoffed, “You’re right, it changes everything!” He replied as he went out and slammed the door on you.

You stood there by the door, loss of words. The one person you trusted had revealed your secret, your ex-husband practically hates you now, you were embarassed that the others had to witness your fight with Steve.

And then, everything turned black.

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nebbyy · 18 days

Note

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it."

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another."

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood!

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!"

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over.

#the trials of apollo #trials of apollo #apollo x you #apollo x reader #pjo apollo #apollo #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #meg mccaffrey #zeus pjo #athena #writers on tumblr #fluff #gender neutral reader #reader insert #lester papadopoulos x reader #lester papadopoulos

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burningvelvet · 1 year

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random excerpts from lord byron’s diaries that feel like tumblr posts from the 1800s

“My mind is a fragment.”

“I am too lazy to shoot myself.”

“Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.'s, where I was asked—but not inclined to go any where. Hobhouse says I am growing a ‘loup garou,’ a solitary hobgoblin. True.”

“Sleepy, and must go to bed.”

“Whether ‘Hell will be paved with’ those ‘good intentions,’ I know not.”

“Got up—redde the Morning Post containing [..] a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual.”

“I wonder what the devil is the matter with me! I can do nothing, and fortunately there is nothing to do.”

“Last night, party at Lansdowne House. Tonight, party at Lady Charlotte Greville's—deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted—nothing acquired—talking without ideas:—if any thing like thought in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho!—and in this way half London pass what is called life. Tomorrow there is Lady Heathcote's—shall I go? yes—to punish myself for not having a pursuit.”

“What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of Seed which may be spilt in a whore’s lap – or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream – might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Buonaparte.”

“Oh that face!—by te, Diva potens Cypri, I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and burn another Troy.”

“I have found increasing upon me (without sufficient cause at times) the depression of Spirits (with few intervals), which I have some reason to believe constitutional or inherited.”

“I shall soon be six-and-twenty (January 22d., 1814). Is there any thing in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?”

“Past events have unnerved me; and all I can now do is to make life an amusement, and look on while others play. After all, even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is it?”

“Redde a little—wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. ‘Be not solitary, be not idle.’—Um!—the idleness is troublesome; but I can't see so much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now six-and-twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them,—and yet—and yet—always yet and but—‘Excellent well, you are a fishmonger—get thee to a nunnery.’—‘They fool me to the top of my bent.’” (Quotations from Hamlet)

“I wish I could settle to reading again,—my life is monotonous, and yet desultory. I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy, and burnt it because the scene ran into reality;—a novel, for the same reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought always runs through, through ... yes, yes, through. I have had a letter from Lady Melbourne—the best friend I ever had in my life, and the cleverest of women.”

“As to opinions, I don't think politics worth an opinion.”

“Tells Dallas that my rhymes are very popular in the United States. These are the first tidings that have ever sounded like Fame to my ears—to be redde on the banks of the Ohio!”

“This journal is a relief. When I am tired—as I generally am—out comes this, and down goes every thing. But I can't read it over; and God knows what contradictions it may contain. If I am sincere with myself (but I fear one lies more to one's self than to any one else), every page should confute, refute, and utterly abjure its predecessor.”

“Mr. Murray has offered me one thousand guineas for The Giaour and The Bride of Abydos. I won't—it is too much, though I am strongly tempted, merely for the say of it. No bad price for a fortnight's (a week each) what?—the gods know—it was intended to be called poetry.”

“I will not be the slave of any appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. Oh, my head—how it aches?—the horrors of digestion! I wonder how Buonaparte's dinner agrees with him?”

“If I had to live over again, I do not Know what I would change in my life, unless it were for not to have lived at all. All history and experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are pretty equally balanced in this existence, and that what is most to be desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years? and those have little of good but their ending.”

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hellfire--cult · 10 months

Text

idek based on this shit i posted minutes ago and @andvys gave me an idea, so here is the full version

Donut Stack

wc: 750w

Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington are being idiots together, and Reader sees them.

“What the fuck did you just say Munson?” Steve asks, eyes wide as he looks at his friend as if he had grown a plant on the top of his head.

“I asked if you knew how many donuts you can stack up your dick.”

“I heard you the first fucking time, I am wondering what is going on in your head.” Steve shook his head, not really knowing why his best friend brought something like this out of nowhere.

“Well, I know I can stack up to three.” Eddie smirks widely and Steve’s face morphs into one of disgust as it processes in his head.

“What the actual flying fuck–”

“You know, those big krispy kreme donuts? I had to cut the middle open a little bit more of course, but hey, three fat donuts it’s a lot, right?!” Eddie was excited, smiling widely with a crazed look on his face as Steve kept staring at him, not believing what he was hearing.

“Are you trying to tell me, you bought donuts, to measure your dick?” Steve asks, just standing there in the middle of Eddie’s room and Eddie shrugs as he sat on the bed with a nod.

“I mean, I already had them–”

“Measuring tapes fucking exist Munson, Jesus Christ.” Steve ran a hand through his hair as Eddie kept the big smile on his face.

“Where’s the fun in that? My measuring system is donuts now.” He says and Steve finally came to the conclusion that he had enough for the night, leaving Eddie rambling about how he wishes he could stack up to three donuts on his erect dick.

Which leads to Steve staring at his unopened box of Krispy Kremes, on the counter, at 10 PM.

He shook his head many times, walking away from them to then return and stare at the donuts a little bit longer, until he finally grabbed the pack and a knife, heading towards his room.

“Out of my fucking mind.”

And the next day, when Eddie decides to steal Steve’s A/C privileges from the scorching heat that Hawkins brought, Steve has a triumphant look on his face, as Eddie opens a can of beer that he got from his fridge.

“Why so smiley Harrington?” Eddie asks and Steve shrugs but then raises one hand, putting four fingers up.

“Four.”

“What?”

“I can stack up to four.” Eddie’s eyes widened and he shook his head with a smile on his face.

“You’re fucking lying. You must have squashed them all over to make them fit, most likely.” Eddie was not believing that his best friend had a bigger dick than himself, and Steve’s pride was on the line right now.

You also, had decided that day, after fanning yourself for the millionth time, to go visit Steve, or well, his pool. Getting your bag ready, wearing a nice sundress, walking out of your house and onto your bike, trying not to melt under the burning sunbeams, parking the bike on his front lawn, and realizing that Eddie’s van is parked right in front, bringing a smile to your face.

Your best friends must be already drinking beer, enjoying the coolness of Steve’s home, and you cannot wait to join them. So you open the door, unannounced, and you hear their voices, frantic voices that were almost screaming, in the living room. You were already giggling as you walked into the room, only for your smile to drop instantly as you stared at the scene.

They both were on the couch, in front of the coffee table. Two boxes of donuts on top of it, opened, just two left… because the rest was stacked up on eachother’s dicks, as they argued with one another.

“You’re squishing them together Harrington!” Eddie exclaims as he points at the stack on Steve and he rolls his eyes, pointing at Eddie’s.

“You are the one squishing yours! if you didn’t, the tip doesn’t–” And his eyes finally caught yours over Eddie’s shoulder. He turned pale, and Eddie followed his gaze, turning his whole body to finally see you standing there, mouth slightly open, eyes completely empty, not a thought could be read on your face.

Everything was silent, not even a bird could be heard outside. You took a small breath to start talking, but then you simply turned, not a word being said, as you left the house. Eddie gulped heavily, looking back at Steve.

“Should we explain ourselves?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

i am not sorry for what i wrote

Thank u for reading this stupid shit I love them so much

#im not sorry #i see donuts differently now #i need help #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #reader #stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie imagine

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tinandabin · 2 years

Note

Another gen z reader pls!

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND.

Yandere Muzan x Gen Z! Reader.

Also, this will contain TRIGGERING THEMES!! It could be anything, like mentions of murder, blood, obsession, anything yandere related. Basically dark content, so if you are NOT comfortable with such stuff, please do not read this post!

Okay, so before we start this shit, just know that Muzan here is kind of gonna be like, only good to you and shit.

"My love, I'm back-" Muzan announced as he started taking off his coat like they did in those 90s shit. Or not. God, my memory is fucking shit. That does not matter, for the only goal in your mind at the moment is to find a excuse to get away from this ugly orange of a demon.

"Oh no, I forgot to water my baguettes! I am so sorry, I must take my leave right now!" Just as you said that, your baguettes in the background screamed, "Hydrate us, [Name]!"

I can't even properly tell you how hard Muzan face palmed at your so stupid attempts to try and escape his affection??? And he doesn't even wanna know who you bribed to wear baguette costumes and say to hydrate them.. What did you even bribe them with???

One of them was probably Enmu.

Muzan, himself doesn't know why the fuck he finds you so amusing. It's probably because you are like, literally playing with your life. Literally.

Evidence is the time when you once tried drinking bleach because first, it looked tasty, and second, you wanted to know what bleach tastes like.

And my God, it did not taste as good as it looked like! IT WAS A SCAM. No one ever scammed you this hard. It tasted like extremely concentrated swimming pool water.

Oh that reminds you of the time when you drank swimming pool water-

And in the Taisho Era, there is no shit like fanfics or memes so Muzan can more than often find random drawings...which are memes but his boomer brain can't process what's so funny about it. Like, talking croissants are funny- no, not the ones you find on Kids YT.

But as I said there are no fanfics, and my goodness do you love reading, proof is of you reading this. So let's hope you like reading books too.

No fanfics. What can you do? Probably read Shakespeare. I'm bullshitting my way through this, please deal with it.

Of course, after reading Shakespeare your grammar and vocabulary got a lot better! Which Muzan liked, a lot.

But,,,,, you being you, now even have more ways to insult Muzan. Like,

Thou base decayed ingested-lump!

Thou perfidious weather-bitten writhled shrimp!

Thou fawning fool-born filthy rogue!

And you could go on and on, but let Muzan have a break.

It's so funny to the uppermoons, especially Douma, when Muzan is just 'scolding' them by 'gently' smashing there heads in and you come in and go, "Awww, mama duckling scolding her ducklings..." As you pretend to make a video with your phone which you don't have because Muzan broke it because he's an asshole.

And as soon as you come in, somehow all the blood disappears and everything is normal as he kisses your forehead and asks, "What are you doing here, darling, did I not tell you to not leave your room?"

Everyone present could feel the temperature drop when Muzan said that, and that was not a good sign.

"YOU AREN'T MY MOM." As soon as you said that, you ran away faster than light because you are....idk. You were able to run away mostly because Muzan let you, but trust me when I say that he wasn't angry at you, more so at the demons who he kept at your room's door to prevent you from leaving the room.

And those poor, poor demons who were now begging for their lives as Muzan glared at them, "I gave you one job, one job.."

That's just when you had to again come in, "CUT!" You yelled, "Do it again, but this time, with more feelings." The demons and Muzan nodded, "ACTION!" You said as the scene started again, this time, with more feeling.

One time you just pointed at one ugly demon and said, "This does not spark joy," Muzan killed it. And then after seeing what Muzan did to the ones you said that to, "This does not spark joy," you said to Muzan. Pointing at him.

And after that, he was seen sulking the whole day because he thinks you hate him, which you do. I hope. I don't know.

MASTERLIST

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sports-on-sundays · 8 months

Text

prince not so charming / CL16 / PART 5

Warnings : Nausea, vomiting, mention of sex, nudity (not described much), giving birth (not described much), switching from second to third person once at the end

Summary : Charles x princess!reader - Charles and his princess face the possibility of a child.

Author's Note : This is the last part! Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this, as this little series was my first bit of writings on tumblr ! If you enjoyed it, and are a fan of football or F1, I encourage you to check out my pinned post, because I do take requests ! But overall, special thanks from the bottom of my heart for everyone who read, liked, and reblogged this! And enjoyed it!

Here is the link to part 4, which contains a link to part 3, which contains a link to part 2, which contains a link to part 1.

Whoosh. Clip clop clip clop clop clickity clop clip. Fwoom. People chatter all around you, and some passionate individuals further from you scream out towards the track as the chariots go by.

All the noise and dust. You feel thankful for you umbrella, protecting yourself from the sun that could be beaming on you.

You're used to this. You've been to a few more of Charles' races since you married. It's something you're interested in watching. Not to mention that it's also supporting your husband of course.

So you're used to this.

So why, today, does it all seem to be to much? Why does the dust seem a little too hard to breathe, the sun a little too hot, and the sounds a little too loud?

You rub your head, trying to push the uncomfortable feeling out of your stomach. But there's nowhere for it to go.

Oh goodness. How much longer until this race ends?

You keep your mouth clamped shut as you feel anxiety sink in. You feel nauseous... And tired... So tired... And frankly, weak.

Please, Charles. Hurry up. I need this race to finish. I'm not feeling well.

The heat spins, making everything blend together into a mush of colors, and then your hand clamps over your mouth in panic. The umbrella drops from your shaking hand as you run out of the stands, tripping on your pink skirts multiple times. You don't care. You're sure they're now all dirty on bottom, but you just have to get out of here as fast as you can.

The moment you're out, you can no longer hold it back. In a corner, you vomit, tears coming from your eyes along with it, in shame of running out like that, and of throwing up in public like this, just on the ground.

You're glad your hair is tied up in a tight bun.

Finally, you finish, gasping. You stand there, feeling terrible, as your legs shake, your head spins, and your lip quivers. You breathe deeply, unsure of what to do, when suddenly your savior arrives.

Your savior also just happens to be your husband.

"Y/n!" he exclaims after taking in the scene. He runs to you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Charles, I don't want to get you sick..."

"It's okay," he says right away.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Someone told me you ran out so quickly right after I finished the race, so I came looking for you. Let's get going home, then, and get you in bed."

"Ch- Charles...?" you ask softly, glancing to Charles in the eyes, before looking back down at your fidgeting folded hands in your lap. You're sitting on you and your husband's bed in your nightgown as he finishes up getting ready for bed. "I need to... tell you something."

"Of course," he says, looking up in concern. "Anything, Y/n. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just... I think you should sit down for this."

Charles' eyebrows scrunch together as he sits down next to you, setting his hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze. "Yes?"

"I... I... Uh- hm, I think I might be... Charles... I think..." You exhale deeply, before finishing quickly, "I think I'm pregnant."

You must say it so suddenly, it takes Charles a moment to process. He sits, staring, eyes wide for a moment, before saying, a smile lighting up his eyes in excitement, throwing his arms around you, "Oh, my goodness... I don't know what to think... I-!" He squeezes you tighter, showering your cheeks with kisses, saying, "That's good! That's good, isn't it?!"

You nod slowly, feeling stress set in even further. "Y- Yeah..."

"How do you know you're pregnant?"

"Well, I don't know... But I should have gotten my period at least twice already, I think... And I haven't. And as you know, I haven't been feeling well... I don't know when I got pregnant, but... Maybe two months ago roughly?"

"We got married two months ago," Charles points out simply.

"Well, yeah, but... We slept together after the wedding."

"I suppose you're right... I think the midwives have ways if testing it, you know."

You shake you head 'no' slowly. "I think we should just watch it for now."

"Wait, turn around-" Charles suddenly says.

"Charles, it's not the time. I'm trying to get dressed. We're already going to be late, no?"

"It's okay. Just turn around. Please."

You sigh, doing so, and suddenly, his strong, big hands are on your stomach, feeling around. Then they cup a tiny little...

A little bump.

You exhale suddenly in surprise, your hands going to his shoulders.

"Oh, no... My goodness... You really think...?" you stutter softly.

"Yes, I do really think... I think? We should ask the castle's midwives. They have those tests."

You shake your head 'no', though. "We should wait and see if it grows into... well, if it grows into an obvious pregnant belly. I just... I just want to keep this between you and me for now."

"Of course. We'll just keep watching it."

Over the next weeks, the bump grows, until you're sure it must be what you thought it was from the beginning. Once you and Charles verbally decide this with each other, it's like he can't contain his excitement.

At every opportunity, he's kissing your tummy, placing his hands on it. When you cuddle in bed, it's the center of it all. Nonstop, he's talking about how excited he is, and how he can't wait. How he's going to take care of you and the baby. How he wonders if it's a boy or a girl. How he hopes he'll be a good father.

You keep telling him not to get too far ahead of himself, even though soon enough you know the secret of your pregnancy will have to get out. After all, something like that becomes hard to hide after a while.

You love the feeling of his warm hands and loving kisses on you, though. The fact that he has nothing but excitement calms some of your fears over the whole situation.

"May I speak for a moment, please?"

The table goes quiet as all eyes go on Charles. You know what he's about to do. You spoke it over. Regardless, you're still nervous about it for some unknown reason. You know there's really no reason to be...

Right?

But all those eyes on the two of you...

"Me and my beautiful wife are proud to announce that we're going to be having a child."

Those at the table are your family. Charles family, and your father. Both Charles' mother and your father's faces light up with pride. Lorenzo says, "Oh, Charles, that's wonderful!"

And of course Arthur's action is to lean forward (staining his royal white suit in his plate of food) to see if he can see your middle.

Lorenzo quickly orders the youngest Leclerc brother to have his seat and pay attention, because he got food all over his nice shirt.

You sigh of relief. You knew everyone would be very happy to learn of the news. But for some reason, you were still anxious. You're so glad it turned out.

You recline, eating some toast Charles brought to you after you complained about wanting some, licking the blue jam off your fingers, watching and listening as Charles sits at his piano, playing a nice little tune. A song he's apparently creating. He looks elegant and handsome there, sitting straight, his fingers moving over the keys so naturally, looking so relaxed.

King of like an angel, maybe.

But then it happens.

And you're reaction is to sit for a moment, eyes wide, before squealing, "Charles!"

Right away his fingers leave the keys of the piano, and he stands up, looking at you in concern. "Yes, my love? Is everything okay?"

You stare at him. "'My love...?'" you ask. Up until now, all he's called you is 'my wife', 'my princess', or simply, of course, just your name.

"Oh... I said that out loud?" he chuckles, after realising you're okay.

"Yes, you did!" you laugh, both hands resting on your pregnant tummy.

He smiles, sitting next to you. He pulls you onto his lap, placing both hands over yours. "That's how I think of you. I call you that in my head. Guess I've just never spoken it. I thought you would think it's too sappy. But I'm sure you already think I'm too sappy." He kisses your cheek from behind, before gently licking the edge of your ear.

"Oh, stop that!" you giggle

He huffs, but gently leans his chin on your shoulder with a nod. "Anyway, why did you call me over? Do you need something?" He leans back.

"No," you say, remembering with an excited smile. "But the baby moved, I think!"

Right away, Charles hands move under yours, and he sits there, just waiting, until suddenly he also feels it. "Y/n!" he gasps in excitement.

"I know!" You giggle softly again.

He hugs you tight, sighing in contentment.

From then on, every single night in bed, he takes to whispering. Whispering to the child inside of you, and rubbing your tummy. In the beginning, he whispers sweet-nothings in English, but soon enough, he's muttering in his own native language. You always love it when he speaks his language. It puts you right to sleep every night.

"Charles, I can't be going to a wedding!"

"But... we have to go. I know this person too much. If I don't go, that would look terrible. And it would look even worse if I went without you!" You can tell Charles is panicking (as much as he can panic. His panicking is like your moderate worrying) as he paces back and forth, and suddenly, guilt hits you.

"Charles," you sniff, stifling a sob as you look away. "I'm so sorry... I'll try more t-"

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa," he suddenly says, slipping down next to you, wrapping his arms around you. "It's okay. Sh, come on now, it's okay. I'll figure something out..."

"I'm so sorry... You're so stressed, and now I'm crying and you're trying to pretend this isn't bothering y-"

"Hey, it's all right. I just don't want you to cry, okay?"

But you can't help but cry more, "I'm sorry..."

He hugs you tighter. "You're dealing with a lot right now. It's hard carrying a baby. I know you're going through the effects of that."

"I've been aching so much lately..." you sniff.

"I know. It's a lot. I know. I could never be as strong as you are. I could never do that. It'd kill me. You're extremely strong, and I haven't told you that enough, but I'm very proud of you."

You sigh, snuggling into his warm body with a nod. "Thank you... Charles, I'm sorry for overreacting. I am only a little over halfway through this pregnancy. I can still go to a wedding with you. It's okay."

"Are you sure? The last thing I want to do is put you through discomfort."

"No, it's okay. I know I'll be with you. So I'll be okay."

He smiles softly at this comment, rubbing your lower back, where he knows you've been aching a lot. "Okay. Okay."

Lately you've just been staying around home (Charles worries about you going to his races, so you stopped until the baby is born), and mostly just wearing nightgowns or housecoats, so getting a dress to fit around your growing bump is a tiresome pain. Of course the servant girls gush over the baby soon to be born, which just drives you crazy. Only Charles is allowed to gush over it like that. (He does, too. Quite often.) And the chest area of your new dress has to be made larger, as well, of course.

While you're not excited about your growing chest and tummy as much, Charles definitely has been.

"Charles," you breathe, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I'm tired. Can we go? And itchy."

He kisses you and nods. "Of course."

The whole way home, you sleep on his shoulder.

"I had an idea," Charles claims, walking into the room.

"Be quieter," you mutter. Your hands are on your tummy, feeling as the baby inside you move. It still amazes you...

There is a baby growing inside of me.

Charles changes into more comfortable clothes and lays down next to you, putting his hand next to yours.

"What's your idea?" you ask him.

"I'm always touching your tummy. And you are too."

"Sure?" you ask, looking to him. You can't help but laugh softly when you see the little excited hope in his bright eyes. "You're adorable. What's your idea?"

For the past seven months, as you are now that far into your pregnancy, Charles has had that look. He's been so excited. Super protective over you and the child within your womb. He can't wait to be a daddy. And you're sure he'll be a very good one.

Probably a better parent than you'll ever be, anyway.

"I got this scented oil, and I thought it might feel good if I rubbed it on you."

You smile. "Sure. Why not?" You sit up a little, still reclining, as he sits up all the way. You're already wearing underclothes, your belly exposed.

Of course Charles (for no other reason but the desire in his eyes) decides that in order to do this, he must also remove your bra.

Okay, Charles.

But it feels good. It really does. He rubs all over your chest and tummy, and you lean back, letting him, inhaling the sweet scents of the oils.

You sit in the garden by yourself, rubbing your tummy.

The midwives say five weeks.

That number has hit you like the chariots Charles races in.

In five weeks or less, I'll be giving birth to our child.

A year ago, you would have never imagined being here.

You're terrified.

"Y/n?"

You sigh. Charles. How does he always seem to find you? He doesn't let you be upset. He's way too good at comforting.

He sits down next to you in the bench. It's chilly outside, but winter has passed, and you know spring is coming soon. You're wrapped in fur coats. He wraps an arm around your back. "Are you crying?"

You nod slowly.

"Oh, my love," he says, softly trying to wipe some of the tears away with his sleeve. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Giving birth. It's coming so soon."

"I know it is... Why are you scared of it, though?"

"Charles, I don't think you know this. But there's a reason why you've never seen my mother. She passed away years ago. She passed away giving birth to me..."

Charles hugs you tight.

"Sometimes, I wonder how she was. What kind of person was she? What kind of mother would she have been? Was she a proper lady? Did she like athletics? Did she mind a little bit of dirt? Did she have a good sense of humor? My father never talks about her. I always wonder and..." you sniff. "I don't want you to have to tell our baby how I was, or what kind of mother you thought I would've been."

Charles sniffs as well, although he's not crying. "It's... please do not worry about such things. That was twenty-five years ago. Our midwives are very good. Experienced, skilled, and they know what they're doing in order to keep you and our child safe. I would never let anything bad happen to you. Or the baby." He places a hand on your tummy. "I love you both too much."

"But, Charles, what if there's not anything you could do about it? What if no matter how much you love me, it still doesn't work out, and your heart is broken anyway? I'm sure my father told my mother the same kind of things you're telling me before I was born..."

"Y/n, please. Just stop. I know it will be okay. I know we will get through. I know that in five weeks, you'll be sitting with a healthy little newborn in your arms."

"But what if I'm not? What if you're sitting with a healthy newborn in your arms, c- cr- crying? Because I'm-"

"Stop!" Charles suddenly yells, pulling away from you.

You stare at him in awe.

This is the first time he's ever yelled at you.

He continues, voice still raised, "You'll be okay! So will the child, and so will I be! Everyone will be safe and healthy, and everything will go as planned! Okay?" He's on the edge of screaming, his hand gripping your shoulder too tightly. "So stop worrying about nothing!"

You swallow, nodding.

Maybe he's worried, too. And instead of crying about it...

He's yelling about it.

Maybe he's trying to convince not only you of his words, but also himself.

This makes you cry more.

Immediately Charles suddenly softens again, and practically whines, "Please stop crying..." He sighs. "Please..." His head drops onto resting on your pregnant belly, which is now very firm. He stays in his position, but says, suddenly his tone bright, "Let's talk about something else!"

You stare at the back of his head, with his light brown messy hair that's in need of a trim.

When did you start loving this man so much?

You let out a shaky sigh.

In the past minute, he went from comforting, to angry, to panicking, to in a cheery mood.

What?

He continues, "I think after the baby is born, and after your father can no longer rule, Lorenzo will allow us to move to your island, where we can rule together! Doesn't that sounds good, Y/n?"

You shrug and nod, wiping away a tear. "Yeah, that will be nice... That would be... nice. It's what I want. Thank you for working for that for me, Charles."

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" he asks right away then.

You shrug. "I don't know. I'll be happy either way, I guess. I think you'll be a great father, Charles."

He smiles, and chuckles softly. "I hope so, my love. You will be a lovely mother. I can picture you with our baby, drinking from your breast... Your hair falling over your shoulders. Your skin shining golden. The love in your eyes. I'm quite attracted to the concept of you being a mother, Y/n."

You laugh softly. "Clearly. And I doubt my skin will be shining, but we'll see about that, I suppose."

"What are you thinking for names?"

You think a few seconds. "I don't know. Maybe if it's a boy, we could just name him after you. You know, Charles."

"I think our kid should have his or her own name. I don't want them to be named after either of us."

You nod. "Got any ideas, then?"

He shrugs, saying casually, sitting up finally, "For a boy, Jules might be okay."

"Why Jules?"

"My good friend and godfather. That was his name. Really the best man anyone ever met."

"Oh... I-"

"Anyone would be honored to be named after him. Either way, I don't know, though. You have to be okay with it too, and you idin't even know him. Got any ideas for a girl's name?"

You think for a few seconds. "For girls, I've always liked Eleanor. Ella would be a cute nickname. I also like Charlotte. And for boys, Jadon... or James. Something like that. But I don't know. We'll see when the baby comes, I suppose, no?"

He shrugs. "Yes, I suppose so, huh?

For the next weeks, because of Charles care about you, he always wants the midwives near you. Unless he's near you. He loves being alone with you, and gets excited at every single sign that the baby is just around the corner. At every sign, you get more anxious. When false labor starts, Charles stays with you whenever he can, and always makes sure midwives are close to help you in case...

Well, in case it's time.

The anxiety you feel is terrible, but you hide it from Charles.

Despite all the pain you feel as the days go on, and the heaviness of your large pregnant tummy, you prepare a bed for the baby with Charles, and other things your child will need.

You try to push out all your worries, but it's very difficult.

To hear his wife say the words, "It's now. I'm going to have the baby. Soon!"

That's kind of scary.

He gets the midwives right away, and she gets settled in the room they've prepared for her for the birthing process.

My nerves. Oh goodness, these nerves.

Charles' nerves could be cut with a knife.

"Charles, I'm scared."

"It's going to be okay. Just relax," are the words he manages.

Of course, he hates to hear those words, 'Charles, I'm scared,' come from his beloved's mouth. The wavering way it comes from her soft beautiful lips sends a sinking feeling into Charles' chest.

And then the process begins. The midwives try different positions with her, despite her wish to just lay down.

Charles keeps his hand in hers the whole time. It's like as if time stops in that little room, until Charles sees the sun rising outside the window.

How long has it been?

Please. Please, I need this baby to be born soon. She needs this baby to be born soon.

"Keep pushing."

Charles swallows as his wife cries, squeezing his hand tight and continues to moan in pain.

Oh God. Oh goodness, love.

Please... Please... Please make it.

You gasp when you hear the crying of your baby. Charles hand slips out of yours, and you watch as he walks across the room to the midwives. You're so tired, you don't understand what's happening.

You get a sudden sinking feeling.

"Is the- Is the baby okay? A- Alive?" you ask in panic, gripping the bed.

But the tiny little baby is placed into your arms. "Say hello to your baby boy, Princess Y/n."

You feel a tear slip from you eye as you look at the tiny little baby in your arms.

That you and Charles made.

You know, the one that's been causing you problems for the past nine months.

This little guy.

You've grown so much in these past nine months.

You feel Charles arm come around your back.

I can never let anything happen to this little beautiful, innocent, perfect child. I will never let anything happen to him. I can't. I love him too much.

Charles kisses the side of your head.

You sit, rocking the child slowly, for who knows how long, before he starts feeding from your breast. Charles rubs your back softly. "It feels funny," you softly giggle.

Charles laughs softly, too, taking your hand and gently rubbing it. "What did I tell you? I told you it would all turn out, didn't I?"

"Yes," you sigh. "Yes, you did. It was hard, and now I'm so tired I feel like I could pass out, but we made it. All three of us made it."

"You don't have to tell me how hard it was. I was here the whole time," Charles teases, but his smile becomes slightly more faint as he mutters with such love, "I'm so proud of you... It was terrible to watch you in such pain... I knew the least I could do was stay with you no matter what."

"It was hard. One time, you left to go to the bathroom, and I got worried. You know, I begged for you. The midwives told me you'd be back soon. And everything turned out, Charles, didn't it?"

"Oh, my love," he breathes in the sappiest tone. He kisses your cheek again, and you can feel the emotions radiating off of him- excitement, relief, pride, tiredness, desire, but most of all, love. "You should have believed me when I said everything would be okay."

"Yeah, I know..."

"Because here we are. Three of us. All safe and sound."

"Yeah... Three," you smile at the child in your arms.

After quite a long time, you hand your son to his father. Charles holds him, rocking him back and forth. Such contentment.

The way he holds him with that little smile down at the tiny little being. So much love and protection. So much fatherly love.

"I love you," Charles whispers softly, and you know he's talking to both of you.

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shinranposting · 6 months

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Spoilers file 1121

ShinRan part summary/analysis (Long post!!):

At the beginning, it takes up Hakuba trying to discover that "Shinichi" was actually Kid, due to his bad deductions, but Kidichi manages to give a good answer (finally, after being wrong throughout the previous file xD), allowing Hakuba let him go for the moment.

But Hakuba is still suspicious, so, to test "Shinichi's" reaction, he flirts with Ran, but the one who reacts first is Conan (his face LOL his face must be one of his wildest jealous faces in the entire story? hahaha) and then Kidichi acts at the wrong time, which Hakuba clearly notices.

Then Conan/Shinichi (the real Shinichi through Kidichi), complains to Ran that she had been "stunned" by Hakuba's words and then tells her this:

"Shinichi: I didn't forget! Shinichi: When you kissed me on the cheek at Kiyomizu Temple! Shinichi: So don't forget that too!"

And then in the next panel, he openly admits that he gets jealous (Shinichi seems to have completely lost his shyness and tells Ran everything he thinks/feels lol).

By the way, the scene is extremely similar to this scene from the Kyoto arc. In Kyoto, after getting jealous of Okita, Shinichi reminds her her confession in London and now about the kiss on the cheek in Kyoto:

I don't believe in coincidences! (In fact, there are also another scene that refers to the aquarium case, case that was for the 20th anniversary 2014, when Megure asks them if they are on a date, now Megure asks them the same question, asking them if they are on a date like in that restaurant, referring to Desperate Revival).

But Ran doesn't look enthusiastic or excited with Shinichi´s words, even her blush is less like that of Kidichi and Sonoko, but rather confused. Could it be that she is discovering that this "Shinichi" is not her "Shinichi"? Even , as some here have said, it seems like she's seeing Conan instead of Shinichi (obviously, just speculation).

(Some say that she might have noticed since Kidichi holds the wrong cheek, or that from the hand gesture Ran can see the audiophone, but again, just speculation).

But the one we can be almost sure that he has already figured out everything is Hakuba, who has already seen the audiophone, and that Conan speaks to Kidichi through the bow tie.

The case's resolution is the next file, which is released next week. Same day that an announcement will be made about the 30th anniversary of the manga.

#shinran #detective conan #file 1121 #ran mouri #shinichi kudo #hakuba saguru

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mimicha-arts · 4 months

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Audiobook, ep 103 (corresponds to s1ep10)

Now eps covers the donghua's plot closely, but sometimes there are small changes, additions and expansions of scenes. This post is a copy of my thread from twitter for the archive.

Friendly reminder, I'm not a native speaker, there is also no subtitles. I'm trying my best, but I can't hear everything and probably made mistakes. Please keep in mind, I wrote it just for reference.

At the very beginning of the scene, the school bell rings, signaling the end of classes. Afterwards, the boy runs to his father and says that he got 100 points for the test, his father promised to buy him a ranger toy for this - his father says they will now go and buy it. After, the girl calls her mother and tells about how well she drew a picture during class with their family, and the teacher noted that it was drawn very well. Mom praises her. QL: Every time after school, he (Cheng Xiaoshi) saw other children being picked up by their parents, and how they returned home together. And he just stood aside and looked at them all alone, feeling envious and lonely. In order to make himself like a normal kid and to blend in with others, he tried his best, but...

Flashback

Kids playing together. Kid 1：Look at this! Kid 2：Take it! CXS：What are you playing? Can I join you? Kid：Em…

Woman：Why are you still here? Go home, go. You don’t know this kid, so why are you hanging out with strangers? Let’s go. Grandma：Nannan (girl’s name), listen to grandma, it’s time to leave. Go home. Grandpa：Don't you dare to play with him. He is a feral child! He has no parents to teach him. How can a child be so uncouth! Woman：Right! So careless, just running here and there, like a disaster

People together： - All right, all right, let’s go - Mom, go - Hurry up!

CXS：You are the feral kids! You are like a disaster, your whole family is a disaster! I don’t want to play with you!

People together： (There is some other phrases I can’t understand)

- What a disaster - At such a young age, you say such dirty words, really disgusting! - Grandma, don't listen to him, it’s so dirty - Hurry, shut your ears - Crazy! Cheng Xiaoshi starts crying.

QL: The neighbors who used to spend time together with him and the friends he played with left him one by one. He was eventually isolated, but I know how afraid of losing everyone he was.

(Here they placed a flashback that corresponded to the moment with the earthquake when CXS ran to QL’s house) QL: That was the first time, when he, who had always been stubborn, was so frightened that couldn’t put words together. Then I realized how painful it must be for him to say, "I don't want you to care about me." At that time, Qiao Ling understood - these people who came to the photo studio as soon as they heard the news about Cheng Xiaoshi's parents', just wanted to satisfy their curiosity. Their perfunctory concern may be able to hide it from others, but it couldn’t fool Cheng Xiaoshi since he was involved. Children have the purest, the sharpest eyes. These people themselves had no idea how their sarcastic words could hurt a child's heart. In the following days, Cheng Xiaoshi stopped trying to cater to others and just spent time alone in the photo studio. Sitting alone at the door of the photo studio, watching people coming and going, the liveliness was about other people, had nothing to do with him. Day by day, year by year, the photo studio was becoming more and more dilapidated. Cheng Xiaoshi also grew up gradually, but his life seemed to always have two points and one thread: from the photo studio to the school, and then from the school to the photo studio. He only had one friend, Qiao Ling, by his side.

QL： Before, I was worried whether Cheng Xiaoshi would be able to make friends who truly cared about him… Until that day. That day.

#link click #shiguang dailiren #time agents

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matan4il · 5 months

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Daily update post:

We got tragic news yesterday. Three hostages were killed in Gaza. It's not clear yet whether they managed to escape Hamas, or their captors bandoned them, but they were walking around in what was a fighting scene. An IDF force realized three people were coming at them, the soldiers saw the hostages from a distance. In this area, there were, in addition to lots of battles, including yesterday, a lot of attempts to carry out suicide attacks, Hamas terrorists who tried to get as close to the IDF as possible, in order to take out with them as many soldiers as they can. The terrorists have been using deception, too. An officer said the IDF wasn't prepared for the scenario that hostages will be talking in the war zones in northern Gaza (where all civilians were warned to evacuate weeks ago), and that initials lessions from this incident had already been passed on to the forces on the ground. It's a tragic, understandable mistake, and I heard the father of an 18 year old hostage (still in captivity) say as much, that the families understand the mistake, and that they are with the soldiers. The killed hostages are (left to right in the pic): 26 years old Alon Shimriez, 28 years old Yotam Chaim and 25 years old Samer Talalkah. I've heard Yotam's mother and Samer's dad talking about their sons. My heart is breaking for the loss of these young men, for the grief of their families, and the pain of the soldiers.

Yesterday, Hamas fired a barrage of rockets at Jerusalem. This is what the interception of some of the rockets looked like:

On a personal note, you might have seen that I have housing issues due to the war, and I'm staying at a temporary place. The rocket attacks on Israel are a part of why it's a bit difficult for me to find a place to stay in. Since 1992 (a year after the First Gulf War, during which Saddam Hussein, the Iraqi tyrant responsible for the massacre of hundreds of thousands of Kurds and for the invasion of Kuwait, fired rockets at Israeli cities), houses in Israel must include a built in bomb shelter per apartment, but some homes are older. What do people living there do? It depends. Some of the older homes still have a communal bomb shelter for the whole building. Some don't, but if the building has an internal staircase with no items made of glass, it can be used to take shelter. But if that's not true either, these residents have to run out of their home and to the nearest public bomb shelter. In Jerusalem, we have a minute and a half to do this (which is better than anywhere else in Israel). But I'm disabled. I don't have a very good chance to grab my bunny and make it into a bomb shelter outside my apartment in less than a minute and a half. So yeah, I'm a bit limited in my housing options.

Yesterday's rocket attack was my first time hearing and responding to the siren after moving into this temporary place, which was the only one with a built in bomb shelter, that I could find in my price range and at short notice. I grabbed my bunny, ran in, meant to shut the door, when I realized that the metal covers for the windows of the bomb shelter aren't closed, and that they can only be closed from the outside. I didn't have enough time to go out, close them, and get back inside. So I just had to hope this time, the rockets or their debris wouldn't land close enough to hit us, or cause a blast that would shatter the glass window.

And these rockets were fired at more than one area of Jerusalem, which means that the sites holy to Judaism, Christianity and Islam in the Old City all came under threat yesterday. Let this sink in: Hamas, which had initiated rocket attacks at Israel on more than one occasion, under the claim that it was defending the al-aqsa mosque in Jerusalem, fired rockets at the al-aqsa mosque in Jerusalem yesterday. This is what it looked like at the Western Wall, right next to the mosque, as Jews who came there to pray had to run for shelter:

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This is what it looked like at the same time on the Temple Mount, by the Dome of the Rock:

The debris of one of the rockets fired by Hamas fell by a hospital in the Palestinian city of Ramallah, which is not too far from Jerusalem. I haven't checked, but I'm willing to bet the supposed pro-Palestinian blogs are NOT ragingly posting about this.

The debris of another rocket fell on a main power line in the city of Beit Shemesh, also in the vicinity of Jerusalem, causing a blackout that lasted for hours.

Meanwhile, in an Arab neighborhood of East Jerusalem (an area where Hamas is pretty popular), when the Israeli Iron Dome intercepted rockets that could have killed the local population, they were recording themselves shouting "Allahu Akbar" and seemingly cheering for Hamas:

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It kind of reminds me that when Saddam Hussein was occupying the Arab country of Kuwait, starting in Aug 1990, making himself a pariah in most of the Arab world (which then chose to join the western coalition against Iraq in solidarity with Kuwait), the Palestinians were celebrating his rocket attacks on Israel.

After regaining its independence, Kuwait expelled its entire Palestinian population for this disloyalty. Funny how I've never come across a "pro-Palestinian account" that talked about the expulsion of 357,000 Palestinians from Kuwait, even though that's no less than roughly half the number that had to flee the war they started against Israel in 1947.

Two Hezbollah drones invaded Israel's north today. One crashed, the other one was shot down by the IDF.

In the pic below, on the right, you can see Yahya Sinwar, the leader of Hamas in Gaza, in a defiant pic he took after the end of Operation Guardian of the Walls, in May 2021. For 11 days, Israel responded to rocket attacks from Hamas, supposedly in the name of defending the al-aqsa mosque, while Sinwar hid down in the tunnels. When a ceasefire was achieved, he took this pic, sitting on an arm chair, not too far from one of his homes. That's right, one of his homes. He's not as rich as some of the other Hamas leaders, but he is wealthy enough to have more than one home. Yesterday, the IDF took over Sinwar's home, and "recreated" his pic:

This is the Almog Goldstein family during this past Hanukkah:

The father and the eldest daughter were murdered. The mother Chen, and two of her children, were kidnapped to Gaza, and released by Hamas during the hostage deal. Yesterday, she revealed that, as they were being let go, a Hamas terrorist told her to "go north" because they will be back.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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angelsanarchy · 7 months

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 6

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp @that-one-persons-posts

TW: Self Harm, Blood

Y/n knew that tonight was Mayhem's first show and as much as she wanted to be there for support, she knew she had to work. She had tried to call and wish him good luck but she got the voicemail. Since he lived with the band, she decided against leaving a message and just hoped he would come by and tell her how it went.

When they all piled into the restaurant, face paint half smudged off and louder than normal, Hammed started taking orders as quickly as he could. Y/n couldn't really interact at the moment as she was working the line instead of tables. The amount of drinks she had to uncap hurt her hands but she made sure to stack them all on a tray to be dropped off to them. Once Hammed got tired of taking orders, he switched onto grill and Y/n was able to greet Oystein.

"How did it go?" She asked brightly seeing little bits of his makeup still on the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"It went really well. Wish you could have seen it." He smiled back taking his food.

"Maybe someday." She knew it wasn't her scene but she would tough it out to see Oystein play.

"You didn't stick around for the party. I looked for you but they said you took off pretty early." He looked disappointed.

"I was still on the clock so I couldn't really stick around. I figured you wouldn't even have noticed surrounded by groupies." Y/n tried to keep it light but Oystein screwed up his face.

"Hardly. I don't give a shit about groupies." Y/n felt a slight uptick in her heart but she didn't want him to know it. She took a napkin and leaned over the counter to rub some of the smeared makeup away from his eye.

"I'm definitely going to need a shower at some point." Oystein laughed.

"I'd say so. I can't believe you brought your stench in here with that crew of misfits." Y/n finally noticed Pelle sitting in a chair with his head down.

"Ey he might need some more tape." One of the guys shouted to Oystein.

"Hey do you have any duct tape?" Y/n cocked an eyebrow.

"Um we should. Let me check the back." Oystein nodded and went to sit his food down on the table. When Y/n found the tape, she walked of the door and immediately say Oystein trying to help Pelle pull tape from his bloody wrists.

"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes went wide pushing the swinging bathroom door and seeing what they were doing.

"What the fuck happened and why are you putting fucking duct tape on it?!" Y/n looked at Pelle who was paler than normal.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Oystein said stupidly. Pelle made eye contact with Y/n and she walked back out of the bathroom towards the office. She grabbed the first aid kit and her purse from her locker. When she returned they had gotten all the tape off and she was staring at how scarred his arms were.

"Grab me a chair from the table please." Oystein ran out to grab the chair and Pelle was shaking.

"You don't have to-" Pelle started.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge you. If you want to die or feel or whatever, its your life to have or end but you can't come here and expect me to serve meat sandwiches when you're bleeding out in a booth." Y/n wasn't trying to scold him. She had a brother who battled terrible mental illness so she knew the anguish someone must feel to do this to themselves but she knew Hammed would lose his shit.

Oystein sat the chair down and she pushed Pelle into it. She knelt in front of him and Oystein watched her clean his wounds up, disinfect them and attempt to put bandages on them.

"These are only butterfly band aids but you need fucking stitches, Pelle." Y/n was about to open her second box of band aids.

"Dead....my name is Dead." She clicked her tongue against her teeth annoyed.

"You know, these stage names are starting to piss me off." Y/n looked at Oystein in the mirror. She put a long gauze pad on his wounds before getting up from the floor.

"Take him to get stitches as soon as you can." Y/n said as Pelle walked past her as if she didn't just stitch up his gapping wounds.

"He'll be okay. I'll make sure to get him stitched up." Oystein assure Y/n as she cleaned up the bloody gauze and bandage wrappers. She felt a hand on her back and she tensed.

"Hey...it's fine. He's done much worse than that." Oystein's words made her turn around.

"I can see that but that doesn't mean he's fine. If anything he's furthest from fine Oystein." She felt a weight on her chest like she wanted to cry and he could tell she was upset. He pulled her to his chest and she dodged it as the door swung open again.

It was the guy who was lurking around at the party the other night.

"Hey I wanted to say you guys were very good tonight...at your gig. My name is Christian-"

"Do you see I'm a little busy here?" Oystein snapped. The way he spoke to Oystein gave off much different vibes than she would have thought. She assumed it was a friend but he came off more as a fanboy. He backed out of the bathroom leaving them both standing alone. Y/n quickly scrubbed her hands in the sink wanting to be out of that confined space.

"Y/n.." Oystein reached out again.

"I've got to get back to work." Y/n wiped her face and pushing past him. They continued to cut up and eat for another 20 minutes before they finally left. Y/n felt so tense and uneasy, all she wanted to do was scream.

#R!Euronymous #FIlm: Lords of Chaos #One Shot Series #Alkaline #Alkaline Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #R!Euronymous x Y/N #6/35

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melvisik · 7 months

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OFMD S2 SPOILERS

Warning: This post contains non-explicit, brief implications of sexual assault/harassment and invasion of personal space. The subject of consent is delicate and complex and I am no expert, so if any information/opinions in this post are evaluated to be erroneous, seem careless, or cause too much controversy, this post will be deleted and apologies given.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

This post is essentially just a bunch of stating the obvious and taking in the observations of the fandom, but just want to emphasize and reiterate: Not that anyone would imagine (canonically-speaking anyway) that Stede would force or manipulate Ed into anything, but one of the loveliest parts of this scene…

…is that Stede stops when Ed tells him to stop with no sense of hurt, indignation, or bewilderment. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't...I was...thinking...no, I know."

Since the scene aired, there's been an explosion of suggestions and analyses of just what Stede had been thinking during that kiss. There's the most common assumption - of course he frickin wants this beautiful, incredible man whom he loves and who loves him back. It goes without saying that (as far as we know) Stede more than likely has only shared physical intimacy with Mary, someone he is at least fond of but clearly was never in love with. Assuming he is a person who desires and enjoys this kind of thing (and we already knows Ed does), he now has the opportunity to share it with someone he loves and adores, and by god is he ready for it. (Plus, he is all about dropping a lot of the 'gentlemanly' qualities now. Guy is kinda running off a 'successful pirate captaining' high this evening.)

But according to the fandom, his eagerness could be attributed to a couple additional reasons. First of all, he must assume Ed wants to move in this direction. Ed was ready to throw his pirate life away to run off with him to China, moving their relationship forward immediately. That's Ed's pace, Stede thinks, and now that Stede is on board and damn certain of his feelings, he might as well go with Ed's flow (kind of tossing his whole 'whim' speech out the window). He (Stede) is also game, so why not? Also, the last time Ed and Stede kissed, Stede later ran off to Mary (yes, we all know he was really kidnapped, dressed down, and retraumatized, but he still hasn't divulged that to Ed). So perhaps now with this kiss, Stede is trying to reassure Ed that he's not going anywhere this time. This time, he is all in. Another thing to consider is Anne Bonny's almost disparaging inquiry and the subsequent mockery...

As if sexual activity is the signifying feature of a romantic relationship (it isn't). So perhaps there's a modicum of pressure being felt on Stede's part here as well.

However, Con O'Niell once expressed in a panel that 'sex is sex on that ship' and love is another matter. Blackbeard has had sex before, passionate encounters, dalliances if you will... But Edward wants it to be different with Stede, something he considers might make it much deeper (and what's more, he's just not ready). So he pulls back. To state the obvious - not engaging in any form of physical intimacy is totally fine, just as passion for passion's sake (or occasionally using it as a way to express love) is totally fine; there are many different, wonderful flavors of relationships. But even the most dynamic of them has boundaries that are not to be crossed and there are agreements to be established beforehand, even with whims. At the very minimum, everyone involved should be staying safe, have personal autonomy, know explicitly what they are signing up for, and not have any kind of outside influence affect their ability to consent (if they want to give it). So, whatever the case, it's important to note is that the moment Stede feels Ed pull away, noticing that hand on his shoulder, an area of his body that Ed has always affectionally punched or patted…

…he reads Ed's signal and he stops.

And Ed doesn't apologize, he doesn't need to. Stede waits and listens and immediately accepts that he got a little too passionate and that Ed isn't ready for that yet.

To use a classic Youtube video comparison - Stede offered tea, Ed said no thanks/not right now, and that was that. But this analogy isn't exclusively applied to just sexual or intimate activity; Stede might not have even been asking for sex here. But in all relationships (whether romantic, work-related, familial, etc.) consent just to be touched in certain ways is granted differently depending on the relationship and what the involved parties agree to. This can stand out particularly in romantic pairings because the partners involved are often given permission touch more or differently than outside entities. Take for example a pair of classic scenes in the first season - it's been frequently pointed out that Ed's reaction to Antoinette invasion of his personal space…

…was violently different than when Stede waited for permission to touch his beard...

Or (going back to more intimate touches) Stede's reaction to Anne Bonny's assault...

It’s a stark contrast to how he wants to pull Ed closer. Quite frankly, if a person hasn't given you permission to touch them in intimate areas (or in most cases anywhere), you DO NOT touch them. Some may think it's daring or somehow seductive to ignore that, but it absolutely is not. Stede currently has some permission to touch Ed, but he can only go so far. Ed has boundaries and Stede should respect them. And of course, the same applies to Ed in regards to Stede. No matter how you look at it, Ed did kinda blindside Stede with that kiss...

In this case, it turned out fairly ok since Stede did in fact reciprocate Ed's feelings and responded positively (which Ed gradually gauged during the kiss)...

...but it was a surprise kiss nevertheless, and Ed's later proposal ultimately ended up leaving Stede in a bit of a panic. But now, consider that moonlight scene. We've all seen it, it's been shouted from the fandom rooftops. In these first beginning steps of their romantic relationship, both tentatively get closer until each gives his own silent consent…

This time, while Stede is willing to go farther, Ed isn't, as he's taking Stede's words to heart and trying not to move too fast again. And Stede seems to already respects those boundaries. Early on when he calls Ed out from purgatory...

...he doesn't devour Ed's mouth to try and 'smooch him out of it' like some Snow White or Sleepy Beauty fairytale. He knows he's probably not on the best terms with Ed right now and he isn't in a position to be giving Ed passionate kisses. Instead, he grabs Ed's hand and tries to guide him back. From Ed's end in the mermaid vision, MerStede never touches Ed and Ed never touches him. They draw closer slowly, tenderly, and together...

All relationships are different, but it seems the kind Ed and Stede are going for here hasn't exactly been established on the best footing, even though both know their love is reciprocated. Ed knows this. Stede knows this. It's totally ok to go slow if that's what someone needs (not stringing along now, that's different.) So for now, THIS is enough...

No hand snaking around the waist or the shoulders (a move Ed made with their first kiss). Just the feel of one another's palm in the other, the weight of each other's hand relaying all their mutual love and support. A sweet, beautiful show of respect and consideration, and it is much appreciated. P.S. Plus this is just so friggin cute...

...oh my god, these two...

#ofmd s2 #ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers #self indulgent #gentlebeard #blackbonnet

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pluckyredhead · 3 months

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I want to get into DC comics, but there's so any of them that I have no idea where to start. Specifically I want to read about Kon (from origin and then dying and then how that affected YJ). Do you have any recommendations on what to read?

Absolutely! So you're in luck with Kon because he got his own series almost immediately after his debut, Superboy (1994), so his story is pretty easy to follow. I would recommend starting there rather than his very first appearances. Kon debuted during the Death of Superman storyline and that was a big storyline that ran across multiple books so it's hard to follow, but his solo series will catch you up on the important information pretty quickly.

Overall I would say Kon's series is a solid B; it's fun to read but not great. But he's very lovable in it and it's a great introduction to who he is as a person. Also, it's like the 90s threw up all over everything and I love that for him.

When you finish Superboy or get sick of it, whichever comes first, I recommend reading Young Justice (1998). You could even start here, honestly, but Kon had already been around for five years at that point so he's not quite a baby anymore. YJ is a better comic than Superboy, a solid A, and obviously showcases his relationships with the rest of the team.

(Just to be clear, I am giving you a lot of homework here: Superboy is 100 issues long and Young Justice is 55. You don't have to read all of either series if you aren't enjoying them, but I didn't want you to be surprised when you saw how many issues there were!)

In 2003, Kon (and Tim, Bart, and Cassie) joined the Teen Titans. Teen Titans (2003) is a pretty OOC and bland portrayal of Kon and the others, but if you're interested in his death and the aftermath (or if you're a TimKon shipper and want to see Tim grieving), you should read it. Kon is only in it up to #33, because he's dead after that. His actual death is in Infinite Crisis which is an incredibly stupid comic but, like. It's there if you absolutely must put yourself through it.

Kon came back to life in Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds which I've never read so I can't vouch for it. He rejoined the Titans with Teen Titans #81 and stayed with the team through the end of the series, but like...those comics are really bad. If you want to read post-resurrection Kon, I recommend Adventure Comics (2009) instead. Kon stars in the first 10 issues or so and they're lovely. He also had another very short lived Superboy series in 2010 which I've read but remember nothing about.

Do not read anything from the New 52 (September 2011-June 2016); that Kon is technically a different character and all of the books he appears in are unreadably bad.

Our Kon returned in Young Justice (2019), which is...fine? It's fine. Superboy: Man of Tomorrow is a recent 6-issue miniseries and it's also fine.

Don't read Superboy and the Ravers, it is 10000% not worth it.

The TL;DR for recommended/key reads:

Read Superboy 1994

Then Young Justice 1998 (or the other way around if you don't care about going in order)

If you are really committed, you can go back and read Reign of the Superman to see Kon's debut and very early appearances, but you don't have to

Then Teen Titans 2003; you can stop after #33 unless you want to see Tim having a mental breakdown

Read Infinite Crisis if you want to read Kon's death, and honestly you can just skim everything that isn't his death scene

Adventure Comics 2009 until it becomes a Legion book

YJ 2018 and Superboy: Man of Tomorrow

I will end with my usual caveat that if you are very new to comics, you will occasionally be confused by what you're reading. There will be references to comics you haven't read and occasional crossovers with other books that will cause unavoidable gaps in your reading. Please just try to roll with it, or look at those moments as interesting new paths to wander down. It's okay if you don't know everything right away. That's what makes it fun!

#superboy #kon el #conner kent #comics recs

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i-only-ever-asked-questions · 3 months

Text

Bilton and Scaggs

Back when I was working in the map of Soho, I got to Bilton and Scaggs Hats and Caps. There is so much to say about this shop and its history, and it is so interesting that it warrants its own post, so here we are

Bilton and Scaggs Publishers was a London publishing firm in the 1600's, we don't really know when it was established though. They were not one of the eight great publishers of London, but they were doing well enough, after all, it was able to survive its three major publishing disasters (which occurred in rapid succession). Alas, it looks like Bilton and Scaggs, publishers went out of business somewhere in the 1890's and the milliner who set up shop there, kept the name. Nowadays, only Aziraphale knows the full story. What follows are details of their disasters. They are quite funny, unless you are Master Bilton or Master Scaggs of course :P

The first one was in 1651; when they accidentally printed the so called Buggre Alle This Bible. This very rare misprinted Bible had a few verses added to Genesis and a variation in Ezekiel. Of course our angel owns one copy. Genesis chapter 3 normally has 24 verses where the last one goes like this: "24. So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." The three additional ones go like this:

25. And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee? 26. And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next. 27. And the Lord did not ask him again.

"It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable." The other issue with this Bible was a little change in Ezekiel 48:5 and it is the change that gives the Bible its name:

2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher. 3. And bye the border of Afher, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali. 4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh. 5. Buggre Alle this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone with half an oz. of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @ “Æ@;! 6. And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.

What we can conclude from here is that Aziraphale owned a bookshop in the 1650's that was in the same block as Bilton and Scaggs Publishers. From the deleted scenes in the script book we know he opened A. Z. Fell & Co. in 1800. But there is nothing saying he couldn't have owned a bookshop with a different name decades or centuries before. The bookshop tour special feature from the S1 DVD says he's had it for 350 years. Counting from 2020, that would put it at around 1670. But if we generalize to around 2000, that means the shop could have been there in the 1650's. This more or less matches this ask where it is explained that Aziraphale bought the land in 1630 and over the next 60 years (1690ish) he expanded and built the current bookshop.

Sorry for the tangent, back to Bilton and Scaggs.

The second publishing disaster occurred in 1653 when somehow they obtained one of the famed Shakespeare's "Lost Quartos" and subsequently lost it (the three Shakespeare plays never reissued in folio edition and now are totally lost to scholars and playgoers. Their names are "The Comedie of Robin Hoode, or, The Forest of Sherwoode", "The Trapping of the Mouse", and finally "Golde Diggers of 1589." In S2 Episode 6 we see all three folios inside the box Gabriel brought with him. I am sure if asked directly, Aziraphale will assure you that he has no idea how those pamphlets got into that box. It was completely empty only four days ago!

The third and final disaster happened in 1655 and involved a prophecy book that didn't sell a single copy and ended up being the first book remaindered in England: "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, witch." Not even the sign "Locale Author" attached to the book helped sell it in the author's home town in Lancashire. At the end the publisher destroyed all the unsold copies. Aziraphale, however, seems to have found the 1655 catalog from Bilton and Scaggs that contained only the 1972 prophecy "Do not buy Betamax."

I do find interesting that although evidently Aziraphale had a close relationship with Master Bilton and Master Scaggs, he still failed to secure a copy of the prophecies. It was printed right there! Next to you! How did that happen? Where were you, Aziraphale??!!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens book #aziraphale #Mr. A. Ziraphale #a.z. fell & co #bilton and scaggs #buggre alle this bible #shakespeare's lost quartos #the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter

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jokeringcutio · 1 year

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Could u please do reader x joker 2019?

Reader protects Arthur (before he turned into joker) from when his sign was taken and she beat the kids up and he won’t ever forget that moment. But now,Arthur turned into the joker, he returns the favour by saving her from bad guys?

And when he saves her, he walks elegantly towards her 😫✨ and says “I missed you, doll” 🫣🫣🫣😭✨

Title: Savior Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Reader Rating: Mature for safety. Warnings: Violence, (attempted) sexual assault, Crude Language, Clown beating, Blood, Murder. AN: I wrote two versions of this. A sweeter tale, after which I realized the prompt specifically said that the Reader beats those bad boys up – so I rewrote it. Now I really struggled with how the Joker saved the Reader in this. I’ve written several different scenarios, but none of them felt right. In the end, I decided to base it on personal experience and went along with something that happened to me and frightened me a lot while I was in university. And that was passing this certain school and the young men that tried to sometimes sexually assault you there. It never went as far as in this fic, though, thank the lucky stars. But I had to push the situation a bit more to get a more satisfying end to their lives >D

Be warned, the boys in the second part try to attempt to rape the reader (I won’t go as far as clothes being torn off etc, but they do try to drag her into an alley and scold her).

So if any of this triggers you, please, do not read and hold out for the sweeter fill of this prompt that I will be posting later on <3

~ Savior Fill : I Can Handle Myself ~

The boys ran past you with such haste, it was as if a train passed you. You followed them with your eyes, frowning, and inwardly cursed how rude they had been to nearly trample you on their way past you. But you didn’t have long to think angry thoughts, because a man rushed by, clearly in pursuit. A clown, you thought, eyes now wide. A clown with a green wig cap adorned with curly fake hair and ridiculously big shoes. It must make his steps that much harder. How did he manage to keep up, you wondered.

“Hey, stop them!” the clown shouted. But the boys were shouting back profanities and crossed the road. The clown was nearly hit twice by a car as he followed. One glance around you told you that no one had bothered to run after them. Though some people stood and watched, most seemed to ignore the weird scene. You didn’t hesitate a single moment, though, and ran.

It had been hard to cross the road, but once you were on the other side, you came to a halt and your eyes darted from side to side. Where had they gone to? Then you spotted the clown as his feet slipped from the pavement and he caught himself with his hands. He’d nearly fallen but scrambled up to his feet again before he dashed into one of the alleys. He disappeared out of sight, but you had memorized the spot and made your way over to it as swiftly as you could.

At the entrance of the alleyway, you stood still to observe something you had hoped you would never see. Five teenagers stood huddled around the clown. His bright yellow sign lay scattered upon the floor, broken as if smashed against something. The man was quiet but conscious. You could see how he tried to shield his body from the incoming blows. And your mind went haywire.

You didn’t even register how you moved in on the boys, you suddenly just stood behind them. One high kick was enough to hit the first one on his shoulder. The tall teenager turned around, clearly confused, but you gave him little time to retaliate. Instead, he met your fist eye-first, and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the clown’s shivering frame.

At this point, the others boys had noticed your presence and they stopped their assault on the man. Instead, they turned to you. Eyes all dark and glowering, teeth shown. Like rabid dogs, you thought. But there was no time for thinking now.

You held your arms up in front of your face, hands curled into fists. A little hop to your step as you sprung side to side like you’d seen boxers do on the television.

“How about it, boys?” you whispered. You had wanted to sound cool, but something in your voice broke. It didn’t come out sad though, just a little husky. The boy whom you had dubbed their leader because he was taller and seemed to be the one to take initiative took a step closer to you. His eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Leave the clown alone,” you demanded, then ducked when the anticipated attack struck you right after. The boy’s knee was up to hit your chest, but you had seen it coming and darted out of its way. A fist was launched at your face, but either by sheer luck or good reactional skills, you managed to block it with your arms.

The move seemed to surprise the boy as much as it did you, because he took a second to recover before he tried to hit you again.

The others boys now joined in, the clown forgotten behind them. They inched closer to you with fists raised until a second boy launched himself at you, and all of a sudden, hands and legs were swung in your direction like a flurry.

You didn’t manage to dodge all of the blows, but you made a lucky move when you crouched down to avoid them, then kicked out your leg. Your foot hit an ankle, and one of the boys fell, taking the boy next to him with him by accident. With two down, you sprung up again and hurdled yourself at one of the remaining three. It was one of the smaller ones, an easier target. You tackled him to the floor in a tight hug, then let go of him the moment he lay down. Seated on top of him, you smashed your fist against his cheek, a blow that pushed his head into the dirt and the crumbling asphalt below. Then you moved off of him.

Just in time, it seemed. The two boys who still stood rushed forward to you. In a fit of panic, you reached next to you. The road was littered with garbage that had been torn from the many uncollected garbage bags, and your hand closed around something sharp. What the hell was it?

It didn’t matter. This was your life you were concerned about. With eyes closed, you flung the sharp object away from you, only to hear a gasp come from the boys. Had you hit one of them?

But when you opened your eyes, you saw they were unharmed. But they were gasping at something, eyes raised to the sky. You looked up to see your shot had cut one of the electricity cables that hung above the alley. The cable dangled dangerously above your heads, a crackling sound and sparks erupted from the cut end.

“Come on,” one of the boys then shouted, “Let’s go, let’s go!” The boy still on the ground jumped up to his feet. Blood seeped from a gash on his cheek. He threw you an accusing glare, but made no comment, before he turned away from you and the dangling electricity cable, then ran off.

The other boys followed until you were left alone in the alley. Alone apart from the shivering clown.

You ignored the cable above your head, as you did the shouts of someone in one of the apartments who was cursing that their television had stopped working. Hurriedly, you crawled over to the hunched form of the man, and then slowly bent over him. He kept his hands between his legs. Must have taken a few hard kicks to the balls, you thought. You felt pity for him.

If only you could have chased them off earlier. If only you could have spared him this fate.

“Hey,” you carefully started, your hand on the man’s shoulder. He didn’t shrug your hand away, but he did flinch when you first touched him. But then, as he heard your voice, his eyes opened and he looked up at you. Your heart nearly stopped beating, because the eyes that locked with yours were the brightest green you had ever seen. So pretty. Accentuated by the clown’s makeup and his hair, certainly, but ever so beautiful.

You could have asked him then if he was okay, but that would have been a superfluous question. Of course he wasn’t. He was beaten up, and bruised, his sign shattered. There was nothing you could do to help his bruises, you knew that. But perhaps there was a chance to bring him comfort, to soften those mental wounds he must have received so they wouldn’t scar as badly.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, again. Your hand slid to the man’s white-painted cheek.

He smiled.

You’d nearly forgotten the man you had once saved. The mysterious clown who hadn’t given you his name and hadn’t accepted any offers to help him. It had been as if he was scared of you. The way his shoulders raised when you spoke to him and how he avoided looking into your eyes. You had caught him looking at you though. Whenever you looked away his eyes would be upon you, and there’d be awe within them. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real.

But that was months ago.

When you met him again, you were on your way home. This particular street led you past a community college building, a place where young men often loitered about, hands in their pockets, leering at you when you passed by. You’d gotten used to the whistles and the comments. You thought it was normal until one of your fellow female students pointed out that they never called after her.

Passing this street didn’t always make you feel safe, so when you were particularly tired, you’d go the long way around to the train station. But today, you wanted to take the shortcut. A choice you instantly regretted.

“Oi, pretty girl,” one of the boys wearing a hoodie, hands in his pockets like they usually had, shouted the moment he saw you. He came heading your way, a weird lilt to his step. You instantly knew this wasn’t going to be okay. “Oi, come here,” he said.

Behind him, a friend of his emerged out of the shadows of the building. A crooked smile upon his face and an evil glint in his eyes. “I think you have a little time for us, don’t you?” the boy said.

Two more friends emerged and you quickly scanned the area. Somehow, you were all alone. No other students were behind you, just in front, but they had just rounded the corner and were long gone.

The streets seemed empty as it was already getting late. The setting sun shone over the street tiles, making them shimmer. With hands flexed, you made to turn around, but the first boy managed to corner you.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so,” he said. You wrinkled your nose in disgust when you saw he had grabbed you by the arm. His grip was tight and unpleasant. You started to feel scared for being surrounded by these young men who clearly wanted a thing from you that you were unwilling to give them. “Here, baby, don’t be difficult. Now, you’re gonna be good to me and my friends?”

You flinched, certain of one thing. You were not going to make this easy for them.

With as much strength as you could muster, you pulled your arm back sharply. An attempt to bring your arm back to your belly, but the boy’s hand remained attached. It hadn’t worked.

With gritted teeth, you flung your knee up to aim at either his chest or his balls. You hoped to hit the latter. But once again the boy was too swift. He used your own arm to block the attack, which hurt darn much. You winced and bit back a cry at the pain you felt. Stupid, you thought. You probably had bruised your own arm.

Another attempt from you to twist out his hands, but the second boy gripped your shoulders from behind and forced your body still. You cursed, loudly. “Let go of me,” you said as loudly as you could. “Let go, or I’ll scream.”

This threat instantly triggered a third boy to cover your lips with his palm. “You try and fight back bitch, and we’ll fuck your cunt into a bloody mess.”

With eyes wide of shock, because how dare they scold and denigrate you like this? You noticed how the four of them started to drag you into the narrow alley next to the building. An alley, you knew, would mean the end of it. Because how many people passed this street? And how many of them would think to look in that alley on their way? Your chances to escape would be zero to none.

No, your mind screamed. No, this can’t be how it goes. This can’t happen to me.

You struggled with all your might, even if it were hardly possible to move within their arms. All it earned you was a hard whack against the head, and a kick against your shin. More bruises, you thought, panicking. You had to get out.

Just before they could pull you into the alley, you had the mind to bite the boy whose arm had circled around your shoulders and who covered your mouth in the hand. He cried out. Then suddenly his hands were gone, and he fell face-first next to you. His head inside the alley. His body was limp.

You looked at him confused. Had your bite done that? But then a second boy, this time to your other side, called out. A high-pitched yell of pain. Arms flailing, he fell down to the ground as well, leaving only the two boys behind your back.

Their hands let go of you, and finally you were able to turn around. There they stood, both boys with their backs turned to you. Their attention all upon a new man who had appeared behind them. A man in a red suit, stylish, if not for the many spots upon it. Had he spilled coffee, you wondered at first. But no, it would have been a lot of coffee. The spatters were too many and too far apart. Then what could it be?

The man stood face down, a cigarette held between his lips and fingers, the tip glowing. You could not see his face, but something about his posture seemed familiar. Like a distant memory was awoken upon the sight of him. You’d seen this man before, but where?

His other hand rested inside his pants pocket, lazily, elbow hooked. Nothing about him indicated what had just been done, so you didn’t notice it at first. Not until he blew a small cloud while the cigarette left his lips, and he finally looked up at you all. You saw the paleness of his face. Not natural, but made by makeup. Familiar, you thought again. But it couldn’t be him, could it? The blue triangles near his eyes. The green tangled hair.

This man was dressed as a clown, you realized. A clown you’d seen pictures of before on the television, and on the wanted posters all around the city. A villain recently sought after by Wayne and the authorities.

The Joker.

No wonder you had thought you recognized him. A man known to be ruthless. Cold needles spread all over your spine and you froze up with fear. You knew you had to go, to escape, to run fast and as far as you could before he ended your life like had the lives of so many others. His reasons were often left unknown. Not just Wayne’s men had been murdered, dozens more.

But then your eyes turned to the two boys on the floor and you realized the clown must have a gun. Red had started to spread, leaking from the chests of the boys down onto the street tiles below. Their clothes were stained with the red liquid that was now rapidly spreading.

They’d been shot.

Then the stains on the clown’s suit weren’t made by coffee at all. They were blood as well.

You looked up again in fear, eyes wide. But the Joker’s gaze was not upon you. It was fixed firmly upon the boys in front of you. His hand rested lazily in the pocket of his red pants. Probably where he is hiding the gun, you mused.

“I think you have something of mine there,” was all Joker needed to say for the boys in front of you to start stumbling backward. What was it? You wondered. What did they have? What had you found yourself entangled in? Their screams echoed throughout the alley as they turned on their heels to run. They made it past you, into the narrow street, but only made it in several paces before one by one, they were shot in the back. Cowardly, you thought, but they oh-so deserved it for what they had tried to do to you.

They fell forward, their bodies slumped. You didn’t know if they were instantly dead, or if their life was slowly slipping away from them. You didn’t care to watch. Instead, you turned your head back to the Clown Prince of Crime, a title given to him by the most ruthless and the most influential of all men in Gotham.

The Joker stood where he had been standing. The only change was his now raised arm, a smoking gun aimed at where the boys once had run. Your heart nearly stopped of fear, and you hardly dared to keep your eyes upon him. Surely, he would shoot you next. Whatever this was, whatever this had been, he would probably assume you were part of the group. Had they stolen something from him? Did he want it back enough to kill them for it? Why should he spare you?

With your eyes averted, nearly closed while you trembled in fear, you heard his steps upon the tiled street. His soles slipped upon the glistening tiles, still wet from the rain earlier today, before the sun had started to peek through the clouds.

You heard how he walked towards you, taking his time, a cigarette in his hand, still burning. Then he brought it to his lips and took a long drag before he exhaled slowly. Little clouds of white swirled up from his lips to disappear into the early summer sky while he tilted your head with one finger, forcing you to lock eyes with his own.

They were the purest green you had ever seen. It was within that instant that you recognized him as the clown whose life you had once saved. Eyes that had once been filled with terror and disbelief, but had been ever so green that they had drawn you in. Eyes that had once looked at you as if he could not believe you were real. The gaze in them was the same. That look that told you he had a hard time believing that you existed.

But why?

This man had once been hunched over, frightened for his life, trembling. But now it was you who was in his place. And something in his gaze softened. You saw the recognition in his eyes and thought he must have spotted yours.

His fingers upon your chin tightened. The way he studied you while he moved your face with his hand, tilting it from side to side as he took you in the sight of you, made something in his eyes change. His gaze became more intense, darker.

Then his head dipped forward and his lips were planted against yours. The taste of bitter smoke and something unique to him invaded your senses. It felt pleasant. Unexpected, but heartwarming. A butterfly rose in your chest and wanted to fly, hot flames licked the insides of your belly. And this man had done all that with just one kiss.

And then he withdrew, but his eyes remained focused upon your lips. As if he was hungry for more, a craving you shared with him. He seemed to be catching his breath, his chest moved rapidly up and down, while his fingers finally slid free from your face so he could place his hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him, lips parted in a silent sigh, a quiet invitation for him to kiss your lips again. The Clown Prince of Crime happened to be your very own clown.

“I missed you, doll,” he murmured, voice hoarse and low. He had no idea how much you had missed him. "I think you'd be a lot safer in my arms, don't you?" he hummed, and you didn't think to go against him.

The newspapers reported you missing the very next day.

#Come on #Have your happy ending with the murder clown #he is sweet to you #Arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #prompt fill joker 2019 #joker 2019 #bad ass reader #running off with an evil clown #running off with a clown #anon answered #an: you went willingly with him of course

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