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nebraska-is-a-myth · 3 years

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c!Eret season 2 recap

I wanted to make an official recap of everything that c!Erret has done this season (post-november 16th) so here it is! Some of this is taken from the official wiki, but most of it is just from memory because the Eret dream smp fan wiki is lacking. Feel free to send any asks or questions if you have them.

These Events are in chronological order

Given back the throne

Exactly 21 days after being dethroned by dream, in a surprise turn of events Dream re-crowns Eret as the king of the dream smp after realising that george was put in too much danger being a figurehead, especially after being killed by technoblade on his first day as king. However after this embarrassment on George's behalf, this creates newly formed enemies of Eret and the monarchy. To better defend themselves, Eret gathers their close allies HBomb (Who had taken residence in Erets castle) and CaptainPuffy and officially knights them. She gives them both blocks of Diamond named ‘onwards’ which is Erets name in latain.

Adoption of fundy

After the death of Wilbur, Eret realised that there was no one there to take care of Fundy anmore, and wanted to step up and provide a good support system for Fundy. Eret proposed to Fundy that she officially adopt him and even created a document of adoption for Fundy and Eret to sign. However, because Ph1lza was now technically Fundys legal guardian, the document also needed Phils signature for the adoption to go through. Phil was skeptical having never met eret before, but eventually gave the okay for the adoption to happen. Because of miscommunication, the adoption is still in process after a conflict arose between fundy and phil, so they have been unable to unanimously leaglise the adoption. Eret did make a joke that this would benefit him at getting back at dream after the dethroning because of the wedding between fundy and dream that was still to happen, however because the wedding technically isn't cannon (according to dream, although someone has yet to inform fundy lol) this was still just a joke.

The Mexical l’manburg/El Rapids conflict

In an attempt to put Mexican l’manburg on the map and have people recognize it as an independent state, quackity led a movement in retaliation to regain the crown and restore George as the king. With this plan a small section of the path to Erets castle was blown up and Karl lost one of his cannon lives in the explosion in an attempt to frame Eret. Quackity tried to bring this information to Dream to have Eret dethroned again, but after seeing how George was treated under the monarchy, and accounts from both Eret and Puffy that these allegations were false, he refused and blew up Mexican L’manburg.

Stood against ranboo in his decision to choose his own side

When Ranboo became visibly upset after the explosion of the community house, Eret was one of the main opposers of Ranboo’s idea to not choose sides and just let whatever happens on doomsday, happen. In an effort to be redeemed, Eret pushed hard to help build the resistance and planned to fight to save l’manburg from being destroyed. They even offered up one of their fortresses as a headquarters for the group.

Position on Doomsday

Was asked to join niki and fundy on their revenge story against l’manburg, and even though he agreed to this, he was undecided if the people on the revenge list needed to be taught any lesson.

However, on the morning of doomsday, fundy and niki came to Eret with an invitation to join them in sabotaging the resistance and letting l’manburg burn to the ground because of the safety it failed to give them. Even though Eret accepted this invitation, she disagreed heavily with the list of ‘people that needed to be taught a lesson’ that fundy and niki had created.

First signs of redemption

Tommy's relationship grew with eret in the doomsday war, trusting Eret to help them

Before doomsday had officially commenced, it was just Eret and Tommy talking war prep before the others arrived. This was a major turning point for Eret as this is the first sign of trust Tommy had officially shown to Eret since the betrayal all those months ago. When Tommy died he even entrusted Eret to pick up his stuff and return it to him during the battle against the withers.

Relationship with technoblade

A good note to make is that Technoblade and Eret are actually on quite good terms, and Techno even refrained from killing him in the doomsday battle. Which was quite a surprising thing to see since Technoblade knew of Erets status as king. ( This isn't that important to the plot, I just find it interesting to note)

Ghostburs resurrection

In the aftermath of doomsday, Ghostbur revealed to eret and quackity that he wanted to be brought back to life. Eret then revealed he had been reading ancient texts similar to what philza was reading and promised to help ghostbur be revived as wilbur. And in return Wilbur would change the L’manbur anthem to ‘also Eret’ instead of ‘fuck eret’. Eret then constructed a shrine full of things attributing to aliveburs life as well as things he thought would help make ghostbur feel safe. Unfortunately this did not go as planned and were confronted by shlatt instead of alivebur. After learning that the resurrection may need a totem of undying, Philza, ranboo and Eret traveled to technos cabin to retrieve a map that would lead them to a woodland mansion. However, its only after they travel all the way to technic cabin that philza brings up the fact that eret is king and refuses to let her on the property. Thinking that this would be the end of their journey and philza would resurrect Wilbur without them, in a desperate attempt to gain their trust, Eret removes his glasses and crown in front of both Eret and ranboo. This is only the second time Eret has ever willingly revealed their eyes to another member of the server (the other being tommy, who did not react well). Philza and ranboo remain calm while in front of Eret but when Eret turns to leave after philza continues to deny their help, the two make fun of Erets Eyes, proceeding to call him a freak. Ranboo also makes a comment on how it is now easy to maintain eye contact with Eret without their sunglasses, although the reasons for this have not been confirmed.

Eret, feeling insulted, went back to Dream SMP to find a totem on his own and reflected on his own views on government. He deeply regretted betraying his friends in the original war, and felt bad that he earned his crown through this betrayal. At the same time, his position as king let him do things to make things better, and he tried very hard not to order people around. Wilbur inspired Eret's own reign through his strong leadership, and Eret always felt as though Wilbur could spark hope in a way he never could. That was why he worked so hard to bring him back, and built a historical museum and helped his people. Eventually Ranboo and Phil called back, and they went off to find a totem together.

The finale

In the finale of the second season, Eret waves Tubbo and Tommy off from at the end of the path. Eret voices his support for Tommy and Tommy responds by saying that Eret “will always be the true king.” Officially redeeming Eret for his action of the first l’manburg war. When the group goes to help the clingy duo, Eret is the first one to run to protect them and stays in the back of the group to make sure they are safe. Later on in a moment of self reflection, they realise that their relationship with dream was purely manipulation and reiterates the regret they feel for betraying their friends. Eret also states how much she misses Wilbur and wants to go ahead with the revival, despite knowing that Wilbur does not want to be brought back to life. In a moment of vulnerability they state that “I need him.” and reiterates how important Wilbur was to Eret, even after all the hatred and sadness they bestowed onto each other.

In the future Eret hopes to create a safe place for everyone in the smp, free from Dreams rule.

#nebraska speaks #the eret #eret #man this was fun #gunna make sure this dosent get lost to the void somehow #dream smp #mcyt #if ive made any mistakes please feel free to correct me

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urinterwebpuppy · 3 years

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😭

like im sorry but

😭

let puppi unpack dis lil respons3

these ppl are trans they tick da boxes of being trans. dysphoria is the mental illness that most trans ppl suffer from. chu dont need dysphoria tho! if anything im glad sum ppl dont suffer from dysphoria cus its painful and makes life harder. u dont need a mental illness to b trans!

the lgbtq community is made 4 ppl showing gender variance and have diff sexualities ∪･ω･∪ that arnt cis het

this includes ppl attracted to multiple genders/aesthetic and romantic attractions etc for eg bisexuality u are attracted to multiple (so are the micro lables like pansexuality etc >:3) or those who are polyamorous etc.

aro and aces hav been apart of lgbtq history for years. they are apart of us. they are us. they make us. i cant imagine our communiti wifout dem honestli (ง˙∇˙)ว

we are not going to exclude them now because u say so♡♡♡♡

pronouns dont always = gender. that sounds like the common lgbtqphobic statments i hear cis ppl say. he/him lesbians simply feel comfy with masculine pronouns. some could b trans femme but are fine with he/him they are still women tho dont go down that lane that isnt a hill u wanna die on. u cant dictate whos gender is wat. and whos valid.

just like how sexual attraction is included if u experience none, u are still apart of the community. they belong. u dont have to be sexually attracted to ppl to b a true queer. or romanticaly attracted to ppl to b queer either. ever heard of queer platonic relationships?

i never said religous ppl are aesxual or aromatic. u seem to b a lil lost there (°ヘ°)

aesxuals are just ppl who experience lil to no sexual attraction. some may b aspec etc etc and etc theres so much diversity here

not my fault u dont like how are community varies :c

not my fault u dont like how some lgbtq+ individuals dont suffer from mental illnesses :c

the defenition of somone trans is somone who identifies as a gender not assigned at birth.

also alot of ur analogys dont add up. yes unicorns arnt real or proven to b real (yet :33) but these ppl like non dysphoric trans ppl etc are acc living and breathing, we cant deny their excitense. science still hasnt fully comprehended or understood lots of things. dosnt mean they arnt real.

neurodivergent ppl (like myself) who experience gender in diffrent ways that dont fit our description of gender arnt any less valid. u cant say wat we are or are not. (reffering to neopronouns and xenogenders)

the things u are saying are things cis ppl have said to us. often ppl do it to either please the cis or reinforce their ideologies on us. its jus queerphobia man but go off ig (　´つω；)

we wont stop exsiting cus ur mad.

so mani trans meds puppi has spoken to refuse to go further with this debate or block me after. please dont deny history. dont exclude ppl who have fought for us and alongside us for so long.

dont push them out now.

dont tel us who and who is what because u believe a ceartain thing. u cant tell us who we are.

we arnt invading any spaces. i mean except ur little one the one u feel entitled to and invalidate other because u suddenly have the guide of how to b a queer person and who and who cant b involved.

thnk chu (〃´・ω・`)♪

edit:{ive edited a phew things cus i think i adressed things tuu loosley i said queer when i meant gender queer and should of said trans to b more specific (　´つω；) i made a few mistakes so im tryna correct it thnk chu}

edit2: {removed dis from aro positiviti tag due tu complaint! im new and im sorri if the og poster statment upswet chu :c i truly apologize 4 puttin it in a plce meant soley 4 positiviti 💔 /gen /pos will try tu b mre careful in da future♡}

edit3:{puppi haf another response tu their stament wif sources and links! feel free tu lwook 4 it♡}

i may b a digital puppi but i wont stay silent wen i sense inequality

#bisexaul #queer pride #queer community #anti transmed #transmasc #transmed #transgender #asexual #aroace #aromantic #panseuxal #callout #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtqia

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years

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Humans are Weird: The Hand of Andromeda Ch. 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (New chapters will be posted first to patreon and then moved here) Hanging above the front of the classroom loomed an archaic clock; its arms slowly moving with the passing of each second. To Lizzy Stalwart who was the only student left in the classroom the clock appeared more like a prison warden, watching over her until her hour was due.

Mr. Parkins, her teacher, sat behind his desk just under the clock. He appeared to the casual observer to be going over today’s submitted papers and grading them, but Lizzy could tell from his constant sidelong glances that he was more interested in his data pad he had tucked away in a side drawer. No doubt it was playing the live feed for the Rebound Prix game going on today. He would occasionally look up to watch Lizzy with suspicious eyes before looking away again as if uninterested.

Lizzy had never liked Mr. Parkins as a teacher. He always felt the need to show off his intelligence, always needing to make people feel inferior to him, and always gloating about his past achievements. Frankly she thought that he was having a midlife crisis and this was his coping mechanism, but with each passing day it just became sadder and sadder to watch.

Before Lizzy could further ponder the sad existence of her teacher a series of knocks came from the classroom door. Mr. Parkins looked up from data pad and closed the drawer it was in. He straightened himself out and said “Come in.”

The door to the classroom slowly opened and a towering figure entered the room. They needed to stoop slightly to enter as their muscular build could barely squeeze through the door frame. At first Parkins thought that the figure was just a rather muscular human until the figure fully emerged into the room.

“Thank you for coming on such short-“Mr. Parkins began as he stood and held a hand out then stopped himself. He took a good look at the figure now that he was outside of the doorway and saying he was surprised would be an understatement.

The figure was none other than a Predatorian, standing easily six or seven feet tall and dressed in a coal black suit and matching pants of no doubt expensive material. Orange and black slit eyes looked down at Parkins before looking passed him to Lizzy. As they saw her the Predatorian’s mouth twitched for a moment and Parkins could see a gleaming row of razor teeth behind the smooth blue and white scaly skin.

Turning their gaze back to Mr. Parkins with his hand still held out but unable to move, the Predatorian clasped it with his own hand and shook it.

“It’s no trouble at all.” The Predatorian said. The fluency of his speech was almost as unnerving to Parkins as the sand paper like texture of their skin.

“You-you-you are…” Parkins trebled on as his body switched to auto pilot and continued shaking the alien’s hand. “You are Ms. Starlwart’s guardian?”

“I am.” The Predatorian let go of Mr. Parkins hand who was still dumbly shaking it. “You can call me Mr. B; I spoke with you earlier on the phone.”

“Why yes we did, but I was just thinking you would be-.”

“Human?”

Mr B. grinned, showing off even more teeth as he waved his hand as if dismissing Parkins concerns. “That’s alright; I get that a lot with humans.”

Lizzy watched as her father motioned for Parkins to sit back down which he gladly did. She could tell Mr. Parkins was regaining a bit of his composure returning as he sat behind his desk now that it separated the two of them.

“I was a bit confused why I am here however.” Mr B. continued. “You weren’t specific with what my little girl was in trouble for and I would like to clear up that confusion now.”

“Today was the final exam for the class before the summer break.”

At this Parkins pulled open a drawer from behind his desk and withdrew a single paper sheet from it. He placed it on his desk so Mr. B could fully see it.

“Your daughter was upset with how her grade came out and began arguing with me about changing it. I felt this was most disrespectful and thought her parents should be made aware.”

“That’s because you docked me points for not using a calculator!” Lizzy stood up suddenly and nearly knocked over her chair. “I told you I didn’t need one but you still told me I needed to use it!”

“It’s alright sweetie,” Mr. B said in a soothing tone Mr. Parkins found completely at odds with his appearance, “I’ll take care of this.”

Lizzy pouted but sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She couldn’t even look at Mr. Parkins without becoming upset at this point.

Smirking Parkins turned from Lizzy back to Mr. B. “You see? Your daughter is smart but her manners can be lacking at times.”

Mr. B was ignoring Parkins and picked up Lizzy’s exam. He slowly went over reading every line before looking back at Parkins.

“Were her answers wrong?”

Mr. Parkins looked confused for a moment but rallied.

“She was docked points by not following the rules.”

“But were her answers right?”

Mr. B walked towards the desk and now loomed over Parkins. He set the paper back down on the desk and tapped it with his talon like finger. He locked eyes with Parkins and continued tapping the paper.

“I’m asking if these answers she gave are right or not.”

“Technically,” Parkins began, swallowing deeply as the locked eye contact whittled away his composure again, “they were correct.”

“Then it makes no sense why you took away points.” Mr. B stood back up to his full height. “She did the work and gave the correct responses.”

“But she didn’t follow the rules I laid out for the exam.” Parkins countered. “Not following the rules will not get you anywhere in the real world Mr. Stalwart.”

“And what would you know of the real world?”

Parkins looked up and saw nothing but pure anger written across Mr. B’s face. The corner of his mouth was twitching once more revealing the sharpened white teeth. His eyes narrowed and his stare turned hard.

“You, who spend every day inside this tiny safe box”

Parkins retreated deeper into his chair as Mr. B grasped the table and leaned forward.

“You sit here behind your tiny desk in your tiny world and think that you know how the “real” world works, do you?”

Mr. B was now leaning over Parkins, his shadow swallowing him up. Parkins clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking as gut wrenching fear crept up his spine like a cold shower. He looked into Mr. B’s eyes for a moment and saw nothing but a barely contained rage, held in check by the thinnest of lines. Parkins’s stare broke away for a moment and looked over at Lizzy only to see she was still sitting at her desk but had covered her face in her arms as if embarrassed.

Mr. B pushed forward Lizzy’s papers. “You will give her the credit she is do or else.”

“O-o-o-or else what?” Parkins stammered, to which Mr. B smiled. Not a friendly smile, but one of pure devilish delight. The kind of smile Parkins had seen on holo dramas from villains just as they were about to commit evil.

“Or else I will have the school board have you removed from your position.”

As Parkins looked at Mr. B’s calm demeanor he could tell this was no idle threat, but more a assured promise.

“Oh,” Mr. B continued as he casually picked some lint off his suit and flicked it away, “I’ll also have you black listed from every school on the planet.”

“But you can’t do that!” Parkins was on his feet so suddenly that he knocked his desk with his knees and sent the contents atop it scattering to the floor.

Mr. B casually shrugged and took on a more relaxed posture. “I can, because unlike you I know how the real world works.” He calmly bent down and picked up Lizzy’s paper and put it on the desk again.

Parkins looked back and forth between Lizzy and Mr. B like a deer trapped in headlights before slumping back into his chair.

“I will correct the mistake.” Parkins said reluctantly.

“Good man.” Mr. B adjusted his suit and motioned to Lizzy. She sighed loudly and rose to her feet, hefting her backpack and heading towards the door. “I knew we would come to an understanding.”

“Your daughter will have no trouble passing my class from now on.” Parkins continued, any shred of dignity lost from the encounter. Surprisingly Mr. B shook his head.

“I don’t want her getting a free pass.” He fixed Parkins with a stern stare again which made him further retreat into his chair. “All I want is for her to be treated fairly.”

Parkins couldn’t say anything and just nodded his head as the two of them left the classroom.

The car ride home from school was uncomfortably quiet for Lizzy. She sat in the back with Mr. B while their driver carefully navigated the busy streets of downtown Gilfield. The buildings flew by like blurry images as the car drove the two of them back home. The car itself was a stretched model with the back lavishly decorated with emerald silk and several bottles of Juvian IV water or exotic liquors.

Every block or so Lizzy would glance over at Mr. B expecting him to say something to her, but every time she saw him casually reading some papers and making notes or dabbing his slowly dying cigar into the ash tray. This went on for about ten minutes before she couldn’t bare the silence anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Lizzy said as she crossed her arms and sat back into her seat. Mr. B set down the papers he was reading and turned to her.

“I’m not upset with you,” he began as he twisted the final embers of his cigar out and closed the tray, “but you know better than to poke the bear.”

“But Mr. Parkins-“Lizzy began but Mr. B held up a hand to stall her.

“I stood up for you because your teacher was being an asshole and needed to be taken down a peg; but that doesn’t mean his point wasn’t valid.” He pulled out a bottle of red velvet like liquid and poured a glass for himself, careful not to spill a drop as the car continued down the road. As the liquid touched his lips his pupils dilated and a shudder ran down the length of his body. “In his classroom he’s the boss, and when you’re the boss everyone under you must do what you say.”

“Until you find a way to do it better.” Lizzy quipped back making Mr. B smile.

“I’m glad to see some of my lessons are sticking with you.”

Lizzy smiled back as she pulled out a napkin and threw it at him. “Were as the ones I teach you fall on deaf ears.” He looked confused for a moment until she motioned down with her head and he saw several drops had spilled on his suit.

“Son-of-a-bi-“he began before the driver cut him off.

“We’ve arrived sir, madam.”

“Thanks Hendriks.” Lizzy was already out the door as she called back to the driver and stepped out on to the street. It was nearly dusk and the city lights were beginning to turn on one by one turning a dull city into a light show of neon and glare. A line was beginning to form around the block as Lizzy walked passed them to the front and waved to the bouncer at the door. To the crowds surprise the bouncer let the kid cut the line and enter the night club “Blitz”.

As she made her way through the club she smiled and greeted the staff still prepping the place for opening. Several of the dancers on stage saw her and called out which she waved back but continued her way upstairs and into the back rooms meant only for staff.

She came to a thick metal door strong enough to take an anti-grav tank rocket and not be dented and stopped. Pulling her backpack off she shuffled around inside until she found he id card and swiped it. The door beeped and lit up green for a moment before slowly rumbling open letting Lizzy continue on.

Unlike the front of the club the back room was an entirely different beast altogether. In place of bar benches and rows of liquor, stood weapon racks and crates larger than her entire body. The scantily clad dancers were replaced with thick muscled guards checking weapons before loading them into storage containers. Even the air itself that had smelled of cologne and perfume was replaced with the stench of weapon oils and hydraulic fluid.

She wondered why her dad had wanted to keep both of the businesses he ran under the same roof but when she thought about it the whole thing was so cliché that no one would believe it anyway. Who would think the largest mercenary company in the Sleisian Belt would be being run out of the back of a seedy nightclub?

She had just made it to her room when an aid approached her. Without a word said they handed her a data pad which she took without looking at it as she opened her room’s door.

“I’ll have it finished and organized in an hour.” She said to them. They nodded and scampered off back down the hallway to the arming room as the door closed behind her.

Her room was modest by comparison to the military quarters outside. Pictures of singers were on the walls and the ceiling was covered with star charts that shifted as the projector updated them every passing minute.

She threw off her backpack and plopped herself down on to the nearby bed. She’d hoped laying there for a few minutes would relax her after the mind numbing ordeal Parkins had put her through but the more she thought about it the more frustrated she became.

Sitting up she shuffled over to her desk and picked up the data pad she had been given earlier.

“Computer, play track seven.” She said as she sat down and began going over the day’s expense report for the company. Just looking over the initial figures she had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #Hand of Andromeda #story

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pepperpills · 3 years

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The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is another juicy chapter, not much to add to it, though, just hope you enjoy >.<

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord Part III - The Hunt Part IV - Soft Torture

Part V - Cry baby

You didn’t remember how you got in that situation in the first place. Of course, Lycans were a normal treat for the Village people, but somehow, they respected the villagers, at least, most of the time. You, on the other hand, wasn’t born among those people. No, your essence was different, you were, in some ways, an outsider and because of that, the cabin people had their shares of nightmares with Lycans attacking their loved ones.

This time, it was about yourself. You heard the roars and your blood went cold. Actually, this sound was a more bestial than the usual, drier than the throaty ones Lycans usually make when calling the others. You were afraid it was a Vârcolac. You didn’t see it, but ran from the source anyway. Maybe you did a mistake, because instead of running to the Village, you took the path to the forest, to the abandoned cabins where you thought you could be safe.

You were hidden in the wreck of your old home. As suddenly as you got there, you knew you were doomed. The Vârcolac was nearby, you could hear its steps breaking through dead branches with a strength you tried not to imagine. You were cold sweating now, it arrived at the cabins and was sniffing around, searching for your smell. You were certain you smelled like fear.

For a moment there, it all went dead silent. Nothing moved, no noise was heard. But you knew it couldn’t have simply disappeared, the Vârcolac was more cunning than you expected. Then, out of nowhere, its huge, dark haired beast head was framed by the remnants of a window above you. The chimera opened its wide mouth, showing its sharp teeth and a terrible, profound roar resonated in your mind, your eyes hypnotised by the view of death coming.

You woke up panting, still feeling the hot breeze of its breath on your cheekbones. You didn’t notice where you were at first, too scared to even understand it was all a bad dream. Heisenberg, who had been sleepy by your side, watching you sleep, promptly sat up with your reaction, wrapping a protective arm around your belly.

“You okay there, sweety?” He asked, making you calmer as soon as you perceived his husky morning voice.

“I had a nightmare.” You confided, burying your face on his collarbone, using his scent to help your nerves.

“Wanna talk about it?” Karl wrapped you in his strong arms, pulling you to his lap as you instinctively hugged him.

“It was stupid, nothing special.” You tried to mask the real terror that consumed you minutes ago.

“Nah.” He clicked his tongue. “Nothing you say is stupid, buttercup.” For that, you smiled, resting on his intense grip.

“I was being hunted by a Vârcolac.” You finally confessed, feeling a bit ashamed of it, imagining that that man wouldn’t understand such human fear.

“Oh, Y/N, no need to be afraid, buttercup.” He smiled back at you; his adorable expression framed by messy grizzled hair locks. “Those damn things are far, you are safe. And I will never let them get any close to you, anyway.” He shrugged as if it was nothing for him to deal with.

Being held and told these words made you significantly less worried. Every obstacle for you seemed easier to Karl and he promised to take care of you. Of course, you wanted to be able to defend yourself and you could do that reasonably well, but with that sort of thing was a lot different. They were mutated beings and you were… Well, only human. In that manner, you felt safe with him, like that, resting in his arms, almost forgetting what had just upset you.

“Thank you, Karl.” You told his neck, pressing gentle kisses on his sweet spots surrounding his Adam’s apple, making him bit the interior of his cheek.

“No problem, kitten.” Heisenberg said, holding your chin with his free hand, making you rise your eyes and gaze at his bicoloured irises.

He leaned towards your lips, taking them in his, kissing you ever so passionately, you could melt in his warmth. You couldn’t get enough of his kisses. Feeling the scar on his bottom lip usually made you shiver, a sweet sensation flooding your entire form. He held you tighter, as if you would slip away at any moment. The man still incapable of believing you choose to stay there, with him, not once finding it a bad experience, as most people would by living in that factory.

You two have spent a lot of time together ever since the incident with the Soldat. At first, he was worried for you walking alone in the downer part of the building. He would check on you frequently when you were reading, listening to his records or even improving your bow, which he found fascinating. You would fetch him at his new office every now and then, maybe teasing him a bit to relax when he was working restlessly – not that you gave him enough time to rest with your recently discovered appetite for him.

He wasn’t too vocal with his feelings, but he made his best on complimenting you every chance he had. You were sure that spending most of his time alone made him a little awkward for that sort of intimate contact, but oh, he has been craving it so much since you set your foot on his factory. He tried to hide it, tell himself it would pass, however as the days went by, it only grew, making his chest rumble with his accelerated heartbeat every glimpse he had of your form.

Now he wouldn’t resist the temptation of falling asleep by your side as you cuddled him, tracing the lines of his scars so softly he would forget about the situations in which he gained them. You made everything cosier, even the daily choirs, the stressful works, if you were by his side, he would feel at ease.

He broke the kiss with a low groan. His eyes now had a starving sparkle enlivening them. Every since your first time with him, you were getting better and better on noticing the signs on his face when he wanted to have you, actually, when he neededto have you. And this time, the man was hungry, his heart desperately claiming your touch, his skin growing more sensitive the more time you spent on his lap.

“Damn, Y/N.” He whispered, bared teeth. “I swear you have some sort of power over me.” Karl proceeded to roughly kiss your jaw line, not certain if he wanted to press his lips on your skin or nip it. He did both.

“Oh, meine Hexe.” He chanted as he laid your back on the bed, you took the opportunity to envelop his hips with your legs, pressing his hardness against your pubic bone. “Meine frech Hexe.” Karl corrected himself, maliciously smirking at your action.

“Karl…” You moaned to his hoarse tone, aroused by his accent.

“What is it, Y/N?” He asked in a teasing way.

“I-I want you.” You cried for him.

“Already, sweetheart?” Karl giggled at your eager countenance, to that you could only nod, biting your bottom lip as he pressed his clothed hard cock against your bud through the thin fabric of your pantie. “What a thirsty whore you are.” He tormented you some more.

As Heisenberg pressed himself against you, doing nothing but rubbing both of your needy arousals for a moment, your hands found his forearms, digging your nails in his skin. He groaned, pinning your arms on the sheets, encaging you underneath him.

“Nah, nah, doll.” He denied you, clicking his tongue. “I like seeing you so desperate for my cock.” Karl leaned only to bite your bottom lip, almost until it bled.

“K-Karl, please.” You begged, moving your hips on his rod on, causing him to moan a bit.

“Argh, kitten, I need to taste you.” He stated, nothing else going on in his head but your flavours.

Karl made you take off his green shirt you’ve been wearing and left a trail of kisses down your abdomen, groping your breasts, pinching your hard nipples with his teeth and later pressing them in between his thumb and index finger. You whined with the contact, feeling a pleasant pinch of pain.

“Kitten, you are perfect.” He let out between his nips, going down on you.

His hands rested on you belly, securing you laying, helpless. He reached your waist line. Karl didn’t hesitate on tugging off your panties, irritated it was hiding the treasure from him. The man almost salivated at the sight of your juicy thighs, soaked due to his touches. Not being able to stop himself, his tongue ran along your clit, making you cry out.

It was only one lick, though, just enough for him to taste your sweetness, an appetizer. Heisenberg smirked at your sulky face, being denied of his tongue. He was interested on your thighs, squeezing them, licking the length until he got so close to your labia, but never really licking it, so you would moan desperately.

The man was going savage with your reactions. Drinking in every sound you let out, cute, tempting whines. He considered teasing you eternally just so he could keep listening, but your cunt was calling for him. He sucked onto your inner thigh, marking you as his. This was somewhat sore, but the warming sensation compensated it, leaving only pleasure to flood your brain.

“Look at the mess you making, kitten.” He commented, laughing at your state.

“All this teasing is gonna make me drown, Karl.” You managed to say in between moans.

“We will see about that.” Heisenberg defied.

As much as he would love to keep working on your thighs, Heisenberg was convinced a good girl like you deserved more attention on other areas. That was when you finally felt his warm, soft tongue on your clit. He wasn’t much gentle, oh no, Karl was starving, feeling his pre-cum slobbering his pants, but he already knew your sweet spots so well, being an eager student when it came to your body.

He was kissing and sucking onto your bottom, having you performing an opera of groans, his tongue making you spasm under the strength of his hands. He didn’t resist anymore, accompanying you with muffled moans, delighting himself on your slickness as he slipped down, on your entrance, licking all your juice.

“That is my good girl.” He called you, getting away from you pussy as he presented two fingers to you, resting them on your bottom lip, separating it from the upper one. “Suck ‘em, kitten.” Karl demanded and you obeyed with lusty eyes.

The sensation of your mouth around his fingers made his cock painfully throb, letting out a moan from him. He wasn’t done playing with you, though. Heisenberg led his fingers inside your cosiness, holding his breath as your walls clutched them, imagining how your pussy would perfectly accept his cock.

You were so wet, he couldn’t believe you got like that all because of him, but he loved it. Karl moved his fingers inside you, they formed a slight hook, reaching your G spot easily, making you cry out. It was starting to feel too much. Then he added his tongue. The stimulation on your clit plus the penetration was getting you closer. He knew it, feeling you squeeze his digits.

“C’mon, girl, come on my fingers.” He animalistic whispered.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, feeling too sensitive around his fingers, willing to come. Your orgasm had you spasming, your body reacting to what he had done to you, giving him a delightful spectacle. He only released you when he was certain you came all the way.

“Open up.” His slobbery fingers pressing against your lips again. You tasted yourself on him like that.

“I want you inside me, Karl.” You said as soon as you could.

“And you will have it, kitten.” He promised, his hands now working on getting rid of his pants.

It was an entrancing sensation to be free at last, his neglected cock feeling the chilly air, in despair to be inside your wet comfort warmness. He rubbed his tip on your clit, enjoying himself on your sounds and humidity. Feeling you like that was testing his limits.

Anytime away from your tightness was too much. Karl grunted with the friction, stopping abruptly. He looked you deep in the eye, the sweetest and hungriest of the looks, his needs for you almost overflowing there. Then he buried himself inside you, all his length easily accepted by you lubricated cunt, making the man groan. He never got tired of your insides, his now favourite place to be.

You took his dick so well, no matter how much it seemed to you, it fit perfectly. He just stayed there for a minute, enjoying the sensation of your walls clutching his cock, which was throbbing with any small friction provoked by minor movements of your hips. Heisenberg was driving you insane, filling you with every inch, so deep inside you.

Karl couldn’t help himself anymore. His teeth met your shoulder, biting hard, at the same time as he started rocking his hips, hitting your pleasure spots like he knew them by heart – and at that point he indeed knew. All you could do was groan with his thrusts, pinching his back with your nails, forcing him to be close, not a centimetre between you too.

His pace was getting feral, his cock coming in and just half out, never willing to let you go at all. You felt just too pleasant, flooding his mind with the sensation of your pussy embracing his length. You were a beautiful mess at that point, helpless with all he had you feeling. One specific angle made you more slick, leading Heisenberg to wail, his beard scrubbing your chest.

“F-fuck, kitten.” He cursed you. “Your pussy takes me so well.” He said, gripping your waist, making you feel him even deeper.

“Karl, you’re too deep.” You cried out.

“Oh, but you can take it, right, kitten? You love it, don’t you?” Karl had you rolling your eyes in delight.

“Y-yes.” You answered, feeling closer to your high.

He felt that, leading his thumb to rub your bud, not as fast as his thrusts, but enough to make you lose your mind, not sure how you could feel so good, but this man had you entirely given on his hands.

“Come to me, kitten, I wanna feel your cunt tightening me.” His wish was an order and so you came with his words, melting in his grip, your belly spasming, to which he smiled with satisfaction.

With you pressing him this much, so juicy, he was feeling himself coming near to his end. Heisenberg let your clit go, both his hands grasping your hips, burying himself in you, shoving his dick in. It hit you multiple times, directly on a special spot, making you shiver. He felt it against his cock as you swung for him.

He had to bit his bottom lip, sounds escaping his mouth anyway. Karl was almost there, you noticed, licking his exposed scarred chest to which he moaned even more.

“Give me it all, Karl.” You begged. “I need your cum inside me, p-please.” You asked, hit by another of his savage thrusts.

It was enough for him, Heisenberg let go, releasing himself inside you, filling you entirely with his delicious cum. You felt the warmth flooding your insides while you ran your nails on his sides. He rested his body on yours, not even thinking of getting out of your embrace.

“That was… Savage, buttercup.” He confided as you started playing with his sweaty hair, his head resting on your chest.

“I could say the same about you.” You giggled, his head moving so your eyes could meet.

“It is your fault you are so delicious.” He played back.

“Well, I can see why your house symbol is a horse.” You shrugged, making him laugh hard.

You two stayed on bed for a while, relaxing after the exercise. Your nightmare’s reactions long gone after the treatment Heisenberg gave you. You almost fell asleep with the man in your arms, only not doing so when he called you to the shower where he proved one more time he really couldn’t get enough of you.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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brywrites · 4 years

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Flight Risk X

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part X: In which a profiler and a pilot find a safe place to land, and in which our story comes to a close.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous | Next )

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“It’s a serial poisoning case,” Garcia explains. “And Reid, he got poisoned somehow. He’s at the hospital now and they’re gonna give him an antitoxin but he’s still unconscious. Morgan’s there now but the team really needs him back in the field and I just didn’t know who else to call.”

Y/N swallows past the lump in her throat and says, “Tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”

“Oh my god thank you thank you thank you,” she sighs. “I’m sending you the address now and I’ll make sure they put you on his visitor list.”

When she hangs up Arthur asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Reid’s been poisoned,” she says, and she hates the quiver in her voice. “He’s at the hospital. They need someone to stay with him.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” Before she can argue he puts cash down on the table to cover their order and is ushering her out the door. The hospital Reid is at is mere feet away from the The Graduate and in that moment she loves that stupid tacky motel with her entire heart.

A nurse leads the two of them to the correct room, where Morgan is waiting outside. “Hey mama,” he says, offering a tired smile. Then, with a polite nod to Arthur, “Captain.”

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“He will be. This unsub is poisoning people using various coffee shops, and Pretty Boy here bought a cup at the most recent target this morning. They just gave him the antitoxin so he should be waking up soon. That stuff does a real number on the body though, so he’ll be feeling pretty bad when he does. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Just keep us posted, okay?”

“Okay,” she says. Morgan heads out to find the team and she walks into the room. There are two plastic chairs so she and Arthur sit together at the side of the hospital bed where Reid currently lies. He looks a little more pale than usual, though if it weren’t for the IVs and the hospital gown she would think that maybe he was just sleeping. Looking as peaceful as he did the morning she found him asleep on her couch.

“It’s a dangerous job,” Y/N says quietly.

“It is,” Arthur agrees. This is their greatest fear each time they fly away on a case. That one of the agents they transport will wind up hurt or hospitalized or worse. That all their passengers won’t come back to them safe and sound. “I’ve been flying these agents around for fourteen years. Agent Morgan seems to be injured the most, but when Doctor Reid is hurt it always seems to be something extreme. On more than one occasion I didn’t think he would ever set foot on this plane again.”

The words unnerve her. There’s still so much she doesn’t know about Spencer, in spite of all their conversations and meetings and stories.

“It’s not easy to care for people you know will get hurt someday,” he says. “But that hasn’t stopped you from loving him.” Y/N turns to him wide-eyed, her cheeks burning. The captain chuckles. “Please, Y/L/N, I don’t need to be a profiler in order to see what’s happening between the two of you.”

She sighs and turns her gaze to Spencer. “I know you think I’m making a mistake.”

“Not at all.”

“But you kept warning me not to get close to the BAU, and I didn’t listen to you at all.”

“Martin and I always kept to ourselves when we flew together. We did so because the agents were not always interested in talking, and because it was difficult to become friends with people we knew were constantly in danger. One day there was a case in Boston. Six of them died. It felt like we had flown them there like lambs to the slaughter. It has always been easier for me to keep my distance and to do my job. But I can see that it’s different for you.”

She can’t imagine. Six agents. As it currently stands that would be the entire team.

“You need to feel connected to people,” he continues. “Even if it means this job is harder. That’s not a mistake. And in all the years this man has been on my plane, I’ve never seen him smile at someone the way he smiles at you.”

“Coffee.” The words are barely a mumble, but they immediately jolt the two pilots out of their conversation. Spencer shakes his head slightly. “It’s in the coffee beans,” he mutters. He turns his head and he blinks awake with heavy eyes that can’t seem to focus, but she swear he looks at her. “Angel,” he sighs. And then his eyes close once more and his heart rate returns to a slower, steady rhythm. She looks at Arthur, completely befuddled. He simply shrugs, not knowing what to make of that any more than she does.

There is a knock at the door and a doctor in a white coat steps into the room. “Could I speak to one of you for a moment?” she asks. “There’s some paperwork that needs to be filled out if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I can do it,” Y/N says. Arthur promises to keep a good eye on the good Doctor, and so she follows this doctor out into the hallway, glancing back at Spencer one last time as she does so.

----

His head feels fuzzy. Everything is a haze. All he knows for sure is that his body aches all over. Oh. That must be the poison. He remembers when it began to affect him, and suddenly it all made sense. He tried to tell the team but the world went dark before he could explain. It wasn’t just in the coffee, it had to do with the coffee beans. The bags the shops were using to make their coffee. That’s why they couldn’t trace it back to one single location. He needs to tell them, they need to know, but everything is just so hazy. So confusing. For a moment the world doesn’t feel dark – it feels blindingly bright and he has a sense of urgency, a need to be awake. He tries to open his eyes but everything is just light. He turns his head. There is a figure dressed in white. It looks like her. That can’t be right. They’re not speaking these days. It must be angel. He doesn’t believe in such things, but what other explanation is there? It may just be his brain playing visual tricks on him but that trick must be an angel. His angel.

But then his eyes feel so heavy. Sleep would be nice. He slips back into the haze.

Reid isn’t sure how much time has passed when he suddenly jolts out of the fuzzy feeling. He’s asleep but he’s in a bed and everything hurts and he should probably try to open his eyes. With much effort, he does. He blinks at the bright light of the hospital room – he’s been in enough to recognize immediately where he is. If he’s alive, that means they got the antitoxin to him in time. Which means his team has figured out what’s happening, and he can just breathe easy now. Or as easily as his aching lungs will let him.

Someone clears their throat. There’s almost always a member of his team waiting with him, but he’s surprised to turn and see Captain Dobson sitting there beside him. Reid nearly jumps, the heart rate monitor spiking to emphasize his confusion.

“You’re alright, Doctor Reid,” he says. “Everything’s fine. You’re in a hospital. You were poisoned.”

“I know,” he says, his voice raspy. “It was… the poison was in the-”

“Coffee beans?” the captain finishes. “You were saying something about it before you woke up.”

“I must’ve been dreaming then. I remember thinking about the coffee. And I thought I saw an angel. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

But then the door opens and Y/N steps into the room in a white dress and cream-colored cardigan and it absolutely does. “Hi,” he says, sitting up in the bed.

“Hi,” she replies sheepishly.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Arthur says, standing up from his chair. He and Y/N make eye contact briefly before he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

After a moment of awkward hesitation, she sits down next to him in one of the plastic chairs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I made things weird between us.”

“I think we both did,” she says. “But no matter how much I try to pretend that I don’t care about you, when Garcia called me I was so scared.” Her voice shakes. “I thought I might never get to see you again and that the last thing I ever said to you was to leave me alone.”

“I was scared too,” he admits. “I missed you.” He missed every conversation, missed the sound of her laugh, missed the promise of a free weekend meaning he could spend a little more time with her. Even if it would only hurt him in the end, he wanted to see her.

“How did this even happen?” she asks.

“Morgan and I were revisiting the last known locations of the victims. I wanted to get coffee before we drove back to the precinct. The closest place was called Café Coco. I figured it was safe because I watched the barista grind a fresh bag of coffee beans before brewing my cup and she never added anything to it, but before we could even finish giving the profile I was out.”

“Café Coco?” she asks. “I went there this morning.”

“What?” Reid gasps. Panic surges through him, the adrenaline countering the exhaustion he feels. Oh this can’t be good. Did she drink the same coffee? How much did she drink? Is there enough antitoxin in supply? This is it, this is proof that the moment he starts to love someone the universe conspires to strike them down. “We need to tell a doctor, we need to-”

She puts her hand on his. “Spencer, it’s okay. I didn’t get coffee. I ordered tea. For some reason I just... felt like caffeine wasn’t a good idea.” He stares at her and he has absolutely no words. The panic ebbs and gives way to a stunned quiet. Because this is new. This isn’t anything he’s prepared for. Y/N waltzed right through the heart of danger and was unscathed. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has spared her. Maybe this time he gets to be happy after all. Maybe there is still one thing he can love without ruining.

But then he remembers. And his chest aches for a reason that has nothing at all to do with the poison. “It’s not fair,” he says quietly.

“What’s not fair?” she asks.

“I care about you and you’re okay. And that’s never happened before, but it doesn’t matter because you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“The IRT job,” Reid says. “Your dream job.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“You didn’t?” Now he’s confused. “But why? Y/N, you said it was your dream.”

“I didn’t take it. I mean, I still have to give them an official answer, but I’ve known my decision for a while now. I knew the moment you walked away. I thought a job like that was the only thing I wanted. But lately I’ve started to question that. And when you told me about the people you’ve lost and how much you missed them, I knew for sure. I want to fly,” she insists. “I want to be in the air and in a plane and loving the sky. But I want a home, too.”

Her eyes are shining and the soft smile on her face as she speaks makes all the pain fade when he’s looking at her. “I’ve been flying for a long time. But I’ve never had a place to call home like this before. With Yeeqin and all of our friends. With Arthur. With the BAU. And with you,” she adds. “Even without you, I finally feel like I have a place where I belong, and I don’t want to lose that. My airplane heart has been circling for a long time. I think it’s about time I found a safe place to land.”

“I can be that,” he says without thinking. But he means it. “I can be that, if you’ll let me.”

“Do you want that?” she asks.

“Yes. Very much so. When I realized what was happening to me in the precinct, I was thinking about a lot of things. About the coffee beans and my team and what they needed to figure out. But I thought about you, too. I wasn’t sure what would happen but I was afraid I would never get the chance to tell you that I missed you and that I was wrong. That I felt it too, that I felt so deeply for you. And I still do.”

She laces her fingers through his and he’s never held hands with someone like this before but god does it feel so right. “Flying was my first love,” she tells him. “And I never thought I would find anything that felt as magical as the moment a plane lifts off the ground. But you do. Every time you look at me it’s like that. Like gravity doesn’t matter anymore. Like everything is a little bit lighter.”

While he has never quite fallen in love with flying the same way, Reid knows exactly what she means. Every second he’s with her is like finishing his favorite book. Each time he makes her smile he feels like he’s solved the most important puzzle in history. She’s the first chemical reaction he completed, the first equation he solved. All that and more.

“I think,” he says, “that’s how love is supposed to make you feel.” And maybe it’s too soon and maybe it’s too much but he’s nearly told her once already and he just doesn’t think he can bear to hold the words in his chest any longer. “I love you.”

Her face absolutely lights up. “I love you, too,” she says. And he wants so badly to kiss her but with the mess of the IVs and cannula and monitors he can’t turn to do so he just squeezes her hand a little tighter and they sit there grinning at each other feeling like the luckiest people on the planet.

“So,” she says. “You, um, thought I was an angel?”

A laugh escapes his lips. “Well, yes. But I still kind of think you are.”

---

That evening Arthur grabs both of their bags from the Graduate so that she can wait with Spencer while he’s discharged. The doctors caution that there may be some aftereffects over the next twenty-four hours and send him with medication in the event anything changes during the flight back. The three of them ride over together to the airport to meet the rest of the team and head home. All of their passengers are accounted for. Everything is okay. Even so, she doesn’t let go of his hand the whole ride, and can’t stop from asking him each time he winces if he’s feeling alright.

They arrive at the hangar soon enough. Spencer rubs circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll be alright,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “It’s not even two hours. The team will keep an eye on me and we’ll see each other soon.”

“I’ll just get changed and then be ready to prepare for takeoff,” Y/N tells Arthur.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” he replies.

“What do you mean?” The captain has always been strict about the Bureau mandated dress code.

“I told you that I need you focused when we’re flying. And I know that your thoughts are elsewhere at the moment, so I called an old friend in Nashville. Sheila will fly as my co-pilot tonight so that you can stay close to him. I think it’s what you both need.”

Despite all of their formalities, Y/N throws her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“And Y/L/N? About the IRT offer,” he adds. “Malik and I have been talking. He’s retiring this year and there’s a lot of things on our bucket list we have yet to do. I’ve been thinking that perhaps it’s time for me to do the same. Spend some time traveling for enjoyment with my husband rather than crossing the country multiple times a month. And if I were to retire, I would want you to succeed me. If you’d be interested, of course.”

“Really?”

He smiles. “I think you’ve found something good here. And it would be a shame to leave that behind. But I also think it’s time you were promoted – and time I took a page from Martin’s book and enjoyed the time I have with the person I love most.”

“Of course. Yes, yes absolutely.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says, putting his cap on. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me all those month ago.” He disappears into Geff, and she bounds back over to Spencer.

“Arthur called in a favor,” she says. “So that I could ride home with you, if that’s okay?”

“That is more than okay,” he tells her, grinning. And it’s such a perfect smile that she can’t help herself. She leans in and presses her lips to his and he reciprocates immediately, his hands gently cupping her face and it’s all too brief but all so wonderful and when he pulls away the grin has shifted to dazed, blissful smile that she is certain mirrors the look on her own face.

“Well damn,” Morgan says behind them. “Garcia’s gonna be so mad she wasn’t here to witness that.” Kate elbows him and Spencer turns beet red but the smile never fades.

She’s been in the cabin plenty of times before, but she’s never flown. It’s an incredibly nice interior and they sit side by side in seats that are more comfortable than she’s imagined. Geff speeds down the runway and Spencer holds her hand, her head on his shoulder and his head against hers just like that night on the couch. They lift up into the clear blue air and it’s still so magical and this feeling is still so magical and she doesn’t know how it could possibly get better than this.

---

“Are you ready Doctor?” she asks. “You look a little nervous.”

Reid looks at her. “Y/N, angel, you know I trust you. I’ve just never been in a plane this size before.” After three months, the BAU has taken down the trafficking ring, Kate has taken a leave of absence, and everyone has been given a week off to take a much-needed break. And his girlfriend has convinced him to spend one day of that week in a tiny prop plane with her. She insists that there’s nothing quite like being in the cockpit when the plane takes off, and this is the best way to experience it.

They sit side by side in the small cockpit of the plane, the sky above them a perfect clear blue. She has already run through the preflight checklist, identifying all the valves and instruments she’ll need in a matter of seconds. “It’ll be okay,” she promises, turning the key. “Headset on.” He puts it on as instructed, ensuring that they’ll be able to communicate with one another despite the roar of the engine. She pumps the throttle and the engines and front propeller spring to life.

“Charlie Mike eleven ready for takeoff,” she says into the microphone.

“Charlie Mike, proceed to two,” he hears from the headset.

“Charlie Mike proceeding to two.”

“Winds one ninety at fifteen, Charlie Mike cleared for takeoff.”

“Here we go,” she says with a grin. Reid holds tighter to his seat as she turns the plane down the runway. She puts the break on just at the turn and her hands work away at the switches and instruments faster than he can keep track of. The engine roars louder and the propeller becomes just a blur before them. They advance down the runway faster and faster, her hand on the throttle, and the asphalt is coming to an end, the grass approaching and he braces himself but then she pulls the yoke down and just like that they are up in the air. So smooth it’s hard to believe, as the burden of gravity seems to fall away. He stares out over the window as they go up and up, the horizon stretching out before them, falling open like an invitation. Like magic.

It’s incredible.

He turns to look at Y/N and she wears an awestruck smile, staring straight ahead and while he’s seen her near Geff so many times and he knows how flying works, it is something else entirely to see her in her element like this. And he thinks that she too, is like magic.

Reid can see how she must have fallen in love with this. The lightness and wonder of it all, the way the world looks from up above. The sensation of lift and defying the pull of the earth.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks.

“It is,” he says, though he’s only partly focusing on the view.

She turns to glance at him and the sunlight on her face and the glow of happiness she wears makes her simply radiant. He thinks back to what she said in Nashville all those months ago. It’s true after all – this is what love feels like. With her, it doesn’t feel like falling at all. It’s like liftoff. It’s like soaring. Up in the air above all odds, with nothing but open sky and sunshine and that weightless wonderful sensation.

It makes sense to him now, why J.M. Barrie wrote that the secret to flying was thinking happy thoughts. He’s sure that by now he’s collected enough with her to keep him high for a very long time.

Three months he has let himself love her. Three months and he is happier than ever. Three months and she is still safe. Three months and love doesn’t feel like such a flight risk anymore. Love is a safe place to land.

[Thank you for reading Flight Risk. Please check around your seat for any personal belongings and use caution when opening the overhead bins, for any feelings you stowed there may have shifted during the flight. If you can, we’d be pleased if you take a moment to share your feedback with our pilots on the way out with a ‘like’ ‘reply’ ‘reblog’ or ‘message’. And on behalf the author, and the entire cast of characters on this flight, thank you for joining us. We hope to see you on board again in the future!]

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #flight risk #brywrites #imagine #spencer reid imagine

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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Daenerys Targaryen's tropes - A Mother to Her Men

This commander cares deeply about their men and exhibits it constantly. A mentor to the officers under them, they take a deep personal interest in their welfare and try to keep them out of harm's way. They would never say "We Have Reserves" unless they have absolutely no choice (and even then you can expect them to privately be torn up about it). Staff officers, engineers, and the Camp Cook will be treated with respect and made to feel as valued as the troops on the front line. However, they have no patience with the Glory Hound or the Obstructive Bureaucrat. They will never lay claim to their subordinate’s work, and will even downplay any credit that is due to them. They willown up to any mistakes, even those of their subordinates. In the latter case, they often follow up with treating their subordinate's mistakes as Career Building Blunders. When their followers are on the losing end of a battle, you better believe that No One Gets Left Behind. And when their subordinates actually die, they will remember all of their names and faces.

Gender flipped version of A Father to His Men with Dany.

Cares deeply about her followers and exhibits it constantly

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

“...The slaves are weak from the march.”

“Freedmen,” Dany corrected. “They are slaves no longer.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

“No,” she said. “I will not march my people off to die.” My children. “There must be some way into this city.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

“Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.”

“I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I’d be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I’m with you.”

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have.” (ADWD Daenerys II)

Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” (ADWD Daenerys VI)

“Go if you wish, ser. I will not detain you. I will not detain any of you.” Dany vaulted down from the horse. “I cannot heal them, but I can show them that their Mother cares.” (ADWD Daenerys VI)

When the gluttony was done and all the half-eaten food had been cleared away— to be given to the poor who gathered below, at the queen’s insistence— tall glass flutes were filled with a spiced liqueur from Qarth as dark as amber. (ADWD Daenerys VIII)

Refuses to forget her followers' names and faces and holds herself accountable for their deaths

“It was a cruel fate,” Dany said, “yet not so cruel as Mago’s will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.” (AGOT Daenerys IX)

Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on. (ACOK Daenerys I)

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”

“He died for me.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

“Stalwart Shield shall not be forgotten. Have him washed and dressed for battle and bury him with cap and shield and spears.”

“It shall be as Your Grace commands,” said Grey Worm.

“Send men to the Temple of the Graces and ask if any man has come to the Blue Graces with a sword wound. And spread the word that we will pay good gold for the short sword of Stalwart Shield. Inquire of the butchers and the herdsmen, and learn who has been gelding goats of late.” Perhaps some goatherd would confess. “Henceforth, no man of mine walks alone after dark.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. (ADWD Daenerys II)

Her freedmen were represented by the captains of the three companies she had formed—Mollono Yos Dob of the Stalwart Shields, Symon Stripe-back of the Free Brothers, Marselen of the Mother’s Men. (ADWD Daenerys III)

… but Daenerys Targaryen had other children, tens of thousands who had hailed her as their mother when she broke their chains. She thought of Stalwart Shield, of Missandei’s brother, of the woman Rylona Rhee, who had played the harp so beautifully. No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

“Who is Eroeh?”

“A girl I thought I’d saved from rape and torment. All I did was make it worse for her in the end. And all I did in Astapor was make ten thousand Eroehs.”

“Your Grace could not have known—”

“I am the queen. It was my place to know.” (ADWD Daenerys V)

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. (ADWD Daenerys VIII)

Her followers view her as their mother

“Mhysa!” a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. “Mhysa! Mhysa!”

Dany looked at Missandei. “What are they shouting?”

“It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.’”

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. “Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. “Maela,” some called her while others cried “Aelalla” or “Qathei” or “Tato,” but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. “Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …” (ADWD Daenerys VI)

Daenerys Targaryen was wed, the guards on the pens had told them, laughing. She had taken a Meereenese slaver as her king, as wealthy as he was noble, and when the peace was signed and sealed the fighting pits of Meereen would open once again. Other slaves insisted that the guards were lying, that Daenerys Targaryen would never make peace with slavers. Mhysa, they called her. Someone told him that meant Mother. Soon the silver queen would come forth from her city, smash the Yunkai’i, and break their chains, they whispered to one another. (ADWD Tyrion X)

Hizdahr’s blunder with Grey Worm had cost him the Unsullied. When His Grace had tried to put them under the command of a cousin, as he had the Brazen Beasts, Grey Worm had informed the king that they were free men who took commands only from their mother. (ADWD The Queensguard)

“Is it true?” a freedwoman shouted. “Is our mother dead?”

“No, no, no,” Reznak screeched. “Queen Daenerys will return to Meereen in her own time in all her might and majesty. Until such time, His Worship King Hizdahr shall—”

“He is no king of mine,” a freedman yelled. (ADWD The Discarded Knight)

#daenerys targaryen #dany tropes #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords #a clash of kings #a game of thrones

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omg-imagine · 4 years

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⊱ Always ⊰

Summary: After being kidnapped, you’re hopeful that John will rescue you in time.

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, violence and minor character death

A/N: Yes, it’s another Wick Fic and no, I’m not stopping anytime soon. I really appreciate everyone’s feedback so far on these stories. You truly keep a gal inspired to write!

If you have any requests for John Wick or other characters played by Keanu (maybe Keanu himself??), feel free to send them in! :)

(Credit to the GIF owner)

Straining against the zip-ties, the translucent plastic dug harshly through your wrists as you attempted to break free. However, the binds wrapped around your hands and ankles were far too tight for you to escape their grasp. Eventually, you relaxed, breathing out a heavy sigh from both exhaustion and defeat.

The fresh cuts on your face burned, and the bruises all over your body made it painful to move. Your eyes were covered by a thick blindfold, seeing nothing but the total blackness surrounding you. Several voices speaking a foreign language echoed from a distance, leaving you unaware of what was to come.

You tried piecing together the events before your kidnapping as your head continued to throb. You recalled leaving the office early to get ready for a date and walking back to your apartment using the same path you usually took every day. Without warning, a black SUV had pulled up next to you, and seconds later, someone knocked you unconscious.

You didn’t even have time to scream.

“John,” you uttered softly, remembering that he was expecting you tonight, and surely he would know that something was wrong by now.

Suddenly, a door inside of the room burst open, and you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching you. The stranger’s breath was hot against your shivering skin as he slowly pulled your blindfold down, the light inside blinding you almost instantly.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Quite a fighter, too,” his deep, menacing tone caused you to wince as he roughly held your head in his calloused hands. From his accent, you could tell that he was Russian. “Now I see why he’s obsessed with you. Shame, you deserve better.”

A thick finger moved to sweep a strand of hair behind your ear. “What do you want from me?”

The man let out a low chuckle, dropping his hands and taking a step back. You observed him as he circled you as if he were a starving predator, and you were his prey. When he came to stand behind you, you felt him lightly dragging the cold, sharp end of a knife across your back, making the weapon’s presence known.

“Not much, darling,” he answered as the blade then traveled up the side of your neck, coming to rest beneath your chin. “You see, you and I both share one person in common—John Wick. I’m currently not happy about our mutual friend because of his recent decision to step away from this life.”

You immediately understood what he was talking about. John had already told you the true nature of his work six months ago. It was hard to believe that a man like him would be capable of such violence. When you met him a year ago, you had initially thought he was a sweet and quiet guy who bound old books for a living.

Oh, how wrong you turned out to be.

But despite warranted fears in the beginning, you chose to stay with him. You loved him, and he promised that he would soon get out of this life and trade it for a normal one—one that he would share with you.

“Please, just let me go,” you begged as he lowered his face down to yours. “I have nothing to do with what he does. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The man shook his head, his knife landing on your cheek. “You are correct, my dear. You are innocent in all of this, but Jonathan Wick is not. He’s one of my best men, my most trusted and an asset to this organization. Anything I order him to do, Wick will accomplish, and I can’t afford to lose him. Unfortunately, he refuses to back down from his decision. That’s when I realized he was doing this entirely for love.”

He forced your gaze up to his, all the while dropping the blade to your collarbone. Gradually, he applied pressure until it began piercing through the surface. A trickle of warm blood flowed out from the incision with your captor smirking at the sight of it.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, tears escaping your eyes. “You won’t get away with this. John will make you pay for what you’ve done.”

“If John really loved you, he would have found you by now.”

You remained silent, not allowing the man to stir doubt in your mind. You loved John, and John loved you. You weren’t going to lose hope because you were sure that he would get to you just in time.

The man clicked his tongue. “It’s too bad that John will not be here to witness me as I cut you up, piece by piece. He won’t have the pleasure of hearing your agonizing screams. Your corpse will serve as a reminder that he can never walk away from this life.”

His hand moved to bring the knife to your throat when loud gunfire suddenly erupted outside of the room, followed by distant screaming and shouting. You noticed the man’s eyes widened in realization and could only mutter two words underneath his breath.

Baba Yaga.

John was here. He had found you, and you were going to be saved.

The man cursed in his native tongue before forcing you up on your feet. He dragged you to the back wall, pulling out a pistol tucked behind his back.

“Sorry, darling. I guess I won’t be able to take my precious time with you after all.”

The barrel of the gun rested against the side of your temple at the same time as the door bursting open, revealing John.

“I’m only saying this once—let (Y/N) go, Viggo,” John said through gritted teeth, his gaze unrelenting as the man pulled you closer to him, using you as his shield. He gripped his gun tightly in his hand, stepping further inside the room. “Are you hurt?”

He was directing the question at you, and you could only choke out a no when Viggo tightened his arm around your neck. “How about a trade, Wick? I’ll let your precious here live while—”

John didn’t give him the chance to finish his statement. Without hesitation, he quickly shot a bullet right between his eyes. Viggo’s body slumped to the ground, and when your knees buckled, John was immediately at your side steadying you. You glanced down and saw the lifeless body by your feet.

Just like that, the nightmare was over, and you could finally go home.

You didn’t notice John calling out your name multiple times, cutting you free from your bindings nor his hand running through your hair. It felt like you were in a daze, the firing of the gun causing ringing in your ears. Viggo’s warm blood had splattered onto your face, and you began welling up tears.

“John?” Your voice came as a whisper. Placing a hand on the sides of his face, you shut your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay—you’re okay,” he assured, pressing a kiss against your forehead and holding you close.

John carried you out of the building in his arms, your body too weak to carry its own weight. The silence was eerie as you walked through the long corridors. You had promised him to keep your eyes shut until you were outside, not wanting you to see the hell he had unleashed upon Viggo and his men.

You finally got to John’s car, and he carefully sat you down on the passenger side. Once he was in front of the wheel, you reached out and grasped his hand. He gave you a comforting squeeze, reminding you that you were now with him, and you were safe.

Somewhere along the drive, you had fallen asleep. When you woke up, you found yourself lying on a comfortable bed, tucked underneath the covers. You noticed an IV needle inserted in your arm, and your wounds were now bandaged.

“Hey, you’re awake,” John spoke as he walked back into the bedroom.

Am I at a hotel? You thought to yourself as your eyes wandered around the room.

“We’re at the Continental,” he seemingly answered the question in your head. You’ve heard about this place before, and you didn’t realize how normal it appeared to be. “I had a doctor patch you up while you were out. Aside from your cuts and bruises, you’ve got a fracture on your foot, two broken ribs, and a sprained wrist.”

John approached the bed and sat down on the chair right beside you. “But you’re going to be okay.”

You opened the palm of your hand, and John immediately interlaced his fingers with yours. You could see the worry etched in his face, and when he opened his mouth to begin his apology, you shook your head.

“Don’t blame yourself,” you pleaded, your thumb mindlessly running against the back of his hand. “This is all going to be over soon, right?”

A small, reassuring smile appeared on John’s face as he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a tender kiss on it. “It already is, darling.”

You sat up on the mattress, wincing in pain as you tried doing so. “What do you mean?”

“That man who took you—he was the only one standing in the way of my freedom. I told him that I was retiring, and he refused. He warned me that I was making a big mistake, and when you weren’t in your apartment tonight, I knew that it was him.”

“So, you’re free?”

John only nodded, and you breathed out a sigh in relief. Tugging on John’s arm, you gestured for him to lay down next to you. As he removed his shoes, you scooted towards the other end of the bed to give him the space he needed.

It wasn’t long until you and John were lying beside each other, falling into a comfortable silence. Truthfully, you were scared to close your eyes again, afraid that if you do, you would be back in that dark room—alone and frightened.

John instantly caught the look on your face. He turned over to rest on his side, snaking an arm behind your back to pull your body close. You felt him place a kiss on the top of your head before the tips of his fingers softly caressed the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, your eyelids growing heavy with each passing second. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I’ll always be here to protect you.”

“Always?”

“Always,” John confirmed with a loving gaze. Eventually, your eyes drifted close, and you finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick #john wick x you #john wick one shot #reader insert #my fics

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 4 years

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Season 4: What do we know?

What with it being summer break during a pandemic, I am quite bored. I’ve decided to take a look at what we know about the upcoming season. It turns out, we don’t really KNOW a lot. What do we know then?

1) There appear to be nine episodes, and the first one is (currently) titled The Hellfire Club. This is all based on the Stranger Writers Twitter account. Nine episodes would be welcome, as last season felt a bit rushed to me. As for the Hellfire Club, that’s where we can really only speculate...which I will happily do here because, again, I’m bored and starved of content. The Hellfire Club was first a reference to organizations in 18th century Britain or Ireland. They seemed to be hedonistic in nature, and some possibly existed as a mockery of religion. They basically congregated to have a safe place to escape social taboo. From the information I was able to find, they seemed relatively benign. There’s no evidence they were Satanic or anything malicious, though rumors were abound of evil magic and other goings on. From my readings, I get the sense they were basically like stereotypical frat houses of today: excessive indulgences in food, drink, and sex, along with weird rituals and pledges of loyalty and secrecy. I struggled to connect this to anything that could occur in Stranger Things. Hellfire Clubs as the rumors of the time saw them may fit into the supernatural aspects of the narrative, but it would be a very obscure reference. It could be a secret organization investigating things that would otherwise be frowned upon (the occult and/or supernatural). It could be a club or organization that others see as bad, like perhaps a school clique of outcasts, but it’d be quite something for an 80s kid to know the reference. To them, they’d probably more likely associate it with a comic book. The Hellfire Club was also the name given to a villainous group first shown in Uncanny X-Men #129. It is ostensibly an international elite social club, but is more or less a front for an group of powerful people, including several powerful mutants, to use their wealth and power to secretly influence world events. They were introduced during the Dark Phoenix storyline, as members of that organization tried to bend the Phoenix to their will in order to make use of her power. So, perhaps the Hellfire Club (likely named by one of our comic-loving boys) is made up of antagonists looking to capitalize on Brenner’s work. Brenner himself could very well be behind it all. The main issue I see here is that this would require not only revealing this to the viewers in the first episode, but also to the kids in order to allow the name. 2) Hopper is...somewhere This is old news by now, but we know Hopper hasn’t been reduced to goo like everyone else exposed to the Russian experiment. Where he is remains a mystery, though they seem to want us to think Russia and that he is the American mentioned by the guards. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that he could have slipped through the gate (intentionally or not) and ended up in Russia. It would make me wonder why the show played its hand so early though. They may have just said “screw it” when so many people noticed there were no remains like with everyone else who got blasted. It may also be a misdirection. I’m not a huge fan of those, as I think having to be blatantly deceptive is cheap writing, but I’m also not a writer. What we do know is that part of the plot will have to involve finding and rescuing Hopper, wherever he is.

3) Murray knows something that would be of interest to Joyce

In an easter egg after Season 3, we were treated to Murray’s answering machine message. Writers know that a number of fans will call a phone number (or go to a website) provided on a show or movie and often set up supplemental material to go with it. Along with scolding his mom for calling him when she isn’t supposed to, he also includes a message for Joyce. This shows that he was anticipating her call, suggesting that they had remained in contact. Murray is intentionally vague about a discovery he made, but refers to it as an “update” and “not good or bad, but something.” What we can get out of this is that Murray has been working on something of interest to Joyce, possibly at her request. What could interest Joyce that an investigative reporter would want to work on? The obvious answer is Hopper’s whereabouts, but that would imply that she thinks he’s alive. Perhaps she wanted to be sure that her family is safe from government agencies, Russians, and the supernatural. The part that stands out to me is that it’s “not good or bad.” You’d think Murray would have some idea of what he discovered. This could just be a way for them be all “hey, Murray’s gonna be involved next season” without giving anything away. 4) The party will be split, at least at first I mean, this is basically a given, but, since it’s something we know, it should be included here. The Byers and Jane have left Hawkins for parts unknown. Jane presumably is going with them, but keep in mind her aunt is still out there. However, if Jane were to be going to live with her aunt then her goodbye wouldn’t be quite so impactful. Becky Ives is shown to live relatively close to Hawkins given the ease with which Jane gets there. Mike’s conversation with Jane where he invites her and Will over for the holidays suggests he expects them to be living together. We may not have seen the last of Jane’s biological family (or Kali for that matter), but she’s almost certainly going to live with the Byers, at least initially. With the emphasis the series has put on not splitting the party, we can expect them all to reunite somehow. However, the initial action would have to occur separately unless the entire season occurs during the course of a visit. This was all I could think of in terms of known information. Everything else would simply be speculation. I’m not opposed to that, but that would be for another post at another time. Please feel free to fill in any gaps I’ve left or correct any mistakes I’ve made (politely I would ask).

#stranger things #stranger things 4

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, KIERSTEN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF EPHEMERA.

Admin Rosey: There is something incredibly arresting about Ephemera that I thought would be difficult for someone to capture. There’s something powerful and pivotal that surrounds her - it’s why so many had fallen to their feet in order to worship her. Kiersten, you captured that perfectly. Absolutely perfectly. There line that stuck with me, throughout the application, was this: Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. That is what I always saw Ephemera as - terrible and beautiful. The kind that defines the divinity of angels. I am so incredibly excited to welcome Ephemera to the dash, and you to the group! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Kiersten

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | I’m entering my final year of university with the lightest credit load I’ve had since sophomore year, but I’m also in the process of applying to post-grad programs ( :/ ) and co-editing an anthology for one of the departments here on campus. With that being said, I hope to get a reply out every other day, or once every two days. However, I’m chaotic and oftentimes mean to hold and/or queue replies, but end up flooding the dash. If I could give you a number, it’d be 6/10, realistically, but I’m pretty much always around on Discord to plot and/or chat!

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group? | #thctalk :*

Current/Past RP Accounts | LINK, LINK, LINK

IN CHARACTER

Character | Ephemera - The Virtue of Prudence (with a FC change to Levy Tran, if you please? uwu)

What drew you to this character? | Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. I’ve always been enthralled by angels and their place in different aspects of existence--as messengers, saviors, harbingers of punishment, and more--but I never quite thought of there being an angel like Ephemera and I love her all the more for it. She is a true free spirit, she is the best and worst of God; she is the first mortal to be granted wings and instead of crumbling under the weight of the honor, she rose to the occasion and exceeded expectations. She’s a glorious being deserving of adulation… How could I not be drawn to her?

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? |

i. Just as it was God’s folly to give His beguiling creation wings, it was His folly to dictate that she be named Ephemera. There is power in a name, and Ephemera’s literally translates to “something that is enjoyed for only a short amount of time.” How, then, is it her fault that longstanding peace knows no home in her celestial frame? Because of this, I can easily see the Virtue as a near vulture of sorts, just waiting to capitalize upon the misfortune of those beneath her. I don’t think it would be out of character for the conqueror of an angel to pick at the fraying tendrils of peace throughout the lands while Michael and his advisors are none the wiser, instigating discord whenever she deemed it politically smart—for herself, that is.

ii. It is not often that a deity such as herself sees what could be considered an equal in someone else, but such is the fate of Ephemera and DMITRI. He is the Horseman of Conquest and she is conquest’s keeper—she, who’s known nothing but adulation for her victories as both a mortal and an angel; she, who bested her own Creator at the end… And wouldn’t be opposed to besting the Horsemen, either. I would love to explore the dynamic between these two on a micro-level (with Ephemera trying to strategically mold Dmitri into the harbinger of Death that she believes they are to be, for example), but also the dynamic between them on a macro-level that is inclusive as the HORSEMEN as a unit, as well. One of the oldest tactics of war is to divide and conquer, and the idea crosses the strategist’s mind every time she sees the Pale Horseman. What would it take to force one entity into four, all just ripe for her taking? What would Ephemera give to have such power at her fingertips? Further still, what would she do with that sort of power?

iii. She could have sworn she was careful enough--she disposed of plucked feathers by fire, she made sure to appear wounded when necessary, and more--and still, she was brought to stand trial for her sins against her Creator. Ephemera certainly did not out herself to God, so who did? With this plot, I would love for Ephemera to search for whoever told her Creator (a CHERUBIM, perhaps?) about her stints as a god in her own right. She is haunted by the mistake even though things have turned out well for her because she doesn’t know what she did wrong--and how could she refrain from repeating her mistake if she knows nothing about it?

iv. Ephemera is all-too aware of BASTIEN’s obsession with her--her battle stories, her military presence, her sharp mind--and is often annoyed by his incessant behavior, as she finds it difficult to believe that the mortal hasn’t yet realized her disinterest in him stems from the fact that she’s deemed him unworthy of her undivided attention. The angel knows that the Avalos man greedily laps at whatever scraps she deigns to toss his way, and, sometimes, the information she tosses his way is rotten; sometimes, she gives half-truths and embellished accounts of her encyclopedic war accounts, or gives withering comments about his militaristic plans even if she agrees with them for two reasons. The first is that she hopes it negatively impacts the whelp of a mortal enough to leave her alone, and the second is that she hopes it also negatively impacts the mortals’ military forces--especially as times become more and more strenuous between demons, angels, and mortals.

v. Eternity is a long time to exist without amusement and she is so grateful for CADE BEKKER and his utter disdain for everything, for he is her favorite plaything. She knows he sees her as a beast waiting to be befelled, but does he not know that the Virtue evaded and had a hand in the death of God and has no qualms about doing the same to him? She is content to watch him seethe, but she wants more. I love the idea of Ephemera taunting Cade so much that it eventually does end in a fight--but one that he started, one that she can justify to herself and the others. A Virtue versus a Gifted… What a bellicose event that would be!

vi. The GIFTED are the mortals that catch Ephemera’s attention with begrudging ease (even more so than the REINCARNATED), and of the Gifted, she takes most caution around REVNA VOLK. The Virtue’s mind is her prized possession, and Revna’s very existence serves as a threat to it; as such, Ephemera is keen on keeping an eye on the mortal to ensure that she’s not blindsided by anything she does; when she looks at Revna, she feels feelings of bitterness--not because she thinks she’ll ever fall victim to the Daughter of Lies’ tricks, but because God’s divinity makes a mockery out of her as it settles in Revna’s bones. (Even in death, it seems that God intends to taunt her and keep her chained to Him in some way). This one is really open-ended and it can go a couple of ways: with the angel trying to take Revna under her wing in order to keep herself safe (similar to the way in which God brought her closer to Him despite her transgressions against Him), or she could work to make Revna’s life difficult in the Holy Land by advocating for things that would negatively impact her or keep her from gaining any more traction in the political realm.

vii. They say that like calls to like and that both angels and demons are but two halves of the same coin—and, perhaps, in the rawest of terms, they are correct. Like the demon that she is, SALOME pulls a viciousness from Ephemera that reminds the angel of the Old Testament God—of a God that was divinely terrible and possessed a haughtiness that so often informed the deliverance of punishments to those who couldn’t help but fall short of the expectations placed on their incapable shoulders. God found it easy to lose Himself in His throes of battle and glory and passion, and there’s a part of Ephemera that clings to His likeness despite her repeated successes at besting Him; she, too, finds herself susceptible to His same weakness.

Most mistakes made by the Virtue of Prudence are never capitalized on, as they’re so few and far between and tend not to be egregious enough to exploit; however, time is as merciless as she, and it exposes what few chinks do exist in Ephemera’s armor while also giving Salome time to start to understand. I’m really excited to play out the relationship between these two beings, especially as Ephemera simultaneously believes she’s better than Salome, but knows Salome can capitalize on her mistakes--and oh, how she detests the way the demon smiles when she knows the angel has made an error!

viii. Ephemera feels as though she chose MICHAEL as much as he chose her, which is why she feels comfortable enough to lord her part in Caelum’s creation over his head, should he begin to forget that it was her military brainchild that led to God being tossed from Heaven and her battalions that stifled the even the strongest of Heretic strikes. For now, she is content to remain by his side because he affords her freedoms that God was too cowardly to, but ephemera are not meant to be enjoyed for eternity. What would it take to turn the mind against the body, the Virtue against the one who bequeathed her such an honor? How would the King of Caelum react to being extorted, in a sense, by his own military advisor?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yea! It be like that sometimes but so long as it makes sense, serves the plot, and befits the glorious conqueror that is Ephemera I am down to clown uwu

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation |

(Ephemera has always been divine, but she’s not always been an angel; as such, her driving motivation has changed with her!)

As a MORTAL, Ephemera was driven by SUCCESS. Her life was hard-won and something she snatched without so much of a second thought; she wanted to be brilliant, and so she was. She was the first woman to rally her people to prestige and glory and led them to prosperity with her wisdom and iron-clad fist; she made a lover out of Death time and time again, but always evaded both it and God because she is bigger than them both and her successes attest to this.

As an ANGEL, however, she quickly realized that successes (even awe-inspiring ones like her own) were dimes a dozen and was left wanting more, wanting something of substance in an eternal life rather than worshipping God without end. She found solace in her own FREE WILL and never looked back—but who can blame her, as she is only adhering to God’s wish for His beloved creations? Ephemera values herself and her freedom above all else, but even she knows that the strongest of generals need legions behind them; she stays aligned with Michael and his kingdom because she wants to, not because she must.

In-Character Para Sample |

“What do you have to say for yourself, my child?”

She expects nothing less from God, who loves her so that He wishes to give her a chance to explain herself. Fool, she defiantly thinks as she stands at the throne of her Creator, head unbowed and expression unfazed. The angel waits to respond, forcing an uncomfortable silence upon them both--and God, enraptured with His own work, allows her to do so and again bring attention to His folly. He is steadfast in His love and grace with her especially, as she is closer to his truest loves--his mortals--than any of the other celestial beings that gather to watch the sentencing of the woman whom they believed never truly deserved her place among beings as divine as themselves.

Ephemera knows what is expected of her: utter repentance, a grand show of regret and sorrow, and a promise to never again commit such an offense against her wondrous Maker again. She has seen it before and it only further stoked her ire against the selfish God that holds her here in a farce of a trial in an attempt to break her will and reinstate His place as both the Alpha and Omega. She will now bow nor will she beg for forgiveness; if anything, He should be prostrate at her throne, begging for her forgiveness as it is His wretched desire to keep his favorite mortal in his dominion like she is a pet. She is unapologetic as she responds, voice unwavering: “I have done no different than You have done Yourself.”

The silence of the throne room shatters. Cherubim cry out in disgust at such blasphemy; Seraphim gasp and whisper, eyes wide with disgust that someone they called a comrade would do something so heinous. God raises a hand and the outcries stop; He looks to his masterpiece expectantly, and Ephemera continues, “In the presence of Your own omniscience, I spent centuries disguising myself as a mortal to once again feel more than loathing.”

The pain that flashes across His face is genuine and full of agony; it’s an expression Ephemera knows because she’s seen it flit across the visages of others she’s conquered throughout her lifetimes as Athena and Nike, Minerva and Freya. And still, she does not bend at her knees and profess her love; she remains upright and earnest--and how could she not, when she’s done nothing wrong?

“My creation,” God says, “you know the cost of such transgressions.”

She does. She’s heard tales of Moloch and Chemosh and Dagon; she knows the penalty of disobedience is the stripping of wings from bodies. She’s been told of the excruciating pain, of the near demonic screams that spilled from the angels’ lips as God punished them enough to traumatize them with pain, but not enough to offer the sweet outlet of ceasing to exist--and yet, she is more bothered by His language. Ephemera can’t help but bristle as He, even when threatening her with a wingless existence, lays claim to her as though she did not mold herself into the wonder that she is.

“Rip my wings off.” It’s a bold challenge that once again riles the watching masses. They call her a heretic, a foolhardy mortal who deserves to return from the same dust from which she came--and God does nothing but drink in the sight of the beguiling creature at His throne that refuses to pledge her loyalty to Him and not herself.

How can He condemn her to such a painful existence? She is one of his finest creations.

He lifts a mighty hand and she braces herself for pain, but does not balk or cower. His fingertips run down her ivory plumage, paying careful attention to the places she plucked to masquerade as a mortal. Ephemera clenches her jaw and it remains locked even as His touch leaves her wings.

“How could I, my Ephemera?” And so, He decides to draw her closer to Him still in spite of her blatant sins against him. She is a Seraphim--His Seraphim--and He all but chains her to Him by revoking her privilege to traverse alongside mortals and ordering that she stay close to His side via pretentious titles such as general, His strategist, His masterpiece, and more.

Ephemera loathes Him all the more for it.

Extras |

headcanons.

The Virtue’s wings seem to mimic her sword, in the sense that they, too, glisten as though they were cut from unforgiving ice. Ephemera’s lush, ivory plumage is, upon close inspection, flecked with gold; however, the silver tips of her feathers are far more noticeable, allowing for a more ice-like appearance. When she used to parade as a mortal, she would pluck her own feathers to make her wings less full and easier to conceal. It must be God’s favor, then, that still shines on her, as there is no evidence--save for the phantom sensations prickling against her skin--of her past actions.

Ephemera’s companions throughout her eternal existence have varied, and they are often depicted at her side by the devoted mortals that dubbed her their goddesses--Nike, Athena, Freya, and Minerva--and etched her glorious likeliness into word, gold, and marble. Her companions, too, came from those devoted mortals, and Ephemera strategically chose which animals to accept as gifts and keep at her side. These animals, kept by the angel throughout her stints as different mortal deities, include: a barn owl, a white King Cobra, a wild boar, and a silver dapple Arabian horse.

No longer needing an animal to symbolize herself to the mortals of the Old World, Ephemera made the decision to stop keeping companions and instead chose to focus on plans to overthrow God. Since then, however, the angel has acquired a red fox companion--but if you ask her, she would assert that the fox chose her, as the animal followed her home from the forest one night. Ephemera ignored the vixen at first, but soon found herself amused by her wit and overall penchant for chaos. Ephemera named the fox Gloria--a nod to the Latin word ‘gloriae’ that is synonymous with immortal glory, fame, renown, praise, and honor.

The Virtue of Prudence keeps no written records of her strategies, aside from the plans she gave Michael in response to and as a show of her allegiance to the dissatisfaction that led to the usurping of God.

Ephemera is, in some capacity, always prepared for battle. Conquest and the desire for victory run rampantly through her veins, and growing comfortable in her surroundings is tantamount to accepting defeat and complacency--both of which, of course, are absolutely unacceptable for this divine conqueror. Because of this, the angel is incredibly observant and never leaves without her sword, even though she has rarely used it since the quelling of the God and, subsequently, Heretics.

personality inventory.

Nine Moral Alignments: Chaotic Neutral - The Free Spirit

+ | opportunistic, adaptable, innovative - | self-serving, bellicose, disharmonious

MBTI: INTJ - The Architect + | independent, jane-of-all-trades, driven - | judgemental, blunt, secretive

Four Temperaments: Choleric

+ | practical, passionate, ambitious - | cruel, proud, offensive

additional extras.

PINTEREST: here

MOCK BLOG: here

#accepted #accepted: ephemera

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 years

Text

I’m Being Serious | Tony Stark

Pairing: Tony Stark x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1,533 words.

Request: i am afraid to ask ive been having a bad time lately with body image. i was wondering if you could write me a tony stark story of him trying to convince his fiancee that just cuz shes bigger than pepper that the reader is ok to him and her view of herself is wrong? its ok if it takes a while. i dont wanna be pushy. please and thank you.

Warnings: body image issues, self-doubt, angst, some reassurance, fluff. Is rushed writing a warning?

A/N: —

Being engaged to Tony Stark came with many privileges, you were aware of that. Sure, he was difficult sometimes, mostly when he was in a creative mood and entrenched himself in the lab, but other than that the only problem you had with him wasn’t even his fault.

You couldn’t say it was yours either, self-deprecation aside you knew damn right the issue was deeper. You’ve heard and much to your dismay thought unkind things about yourself over and over since you could remember, in the good days they didn’t matter, but in the bad ones they hurt more than you wanted to admit.

He didn’t know, of course, you found it too dumb to address it. In your mind, you would bore him with a talk about your self-esteem. As you looked down, your eyes caught the ring on your finger, such a beautiful piece of jewelry, obviously custom made due to its size— and perhaps also due to how over the top your fiancé was.

Rhodey had said he and Pepper helped Tony to choose it, something that unknowingly to them caused you mixed feelings. You knew your fiancé would never cheat on you, you trusted him, you trusted Pepper whom you considered a friend too, but you didn’t trust yourself.

You didn’t believe to be what he deserved, or what he needed. How could you when Pepper was right there? Her, so pretty and smart, so assertive, and strong, and independent— and thin. Pepper was everything you wanted to be, many times you wondered why Tony had even fallen for you when he had a woman like her before. She would be a prettier bride, a better wife, Tony could show her off in ways he couldn’t with you.

“Ms. (L/N)?” FRIDAY’s voice filled the room.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Stark wants you to give your input on his new project.”

Tony, God bless him, would often ask what you thought about his projects and updates, sometimes he’d even present to you the issues he was encountering as if you were as smart as him. Any other day you would have laughed happily and amused him, but today you weren’t so sure to be up for it. You could try, though. Telling the AI that you’d be there in a moment, you unconsciously looked down at your body as you stood up from your spot on the couch.

You listed every flaw you saw, the ones that Tony could clearly see too. He wouldn’t have to see those things with Pepper, he would only see her beautiful smile and her slim body. On your way to the lab, you went through said list again, finding more flaws. There were issues in every single one of them, flaws in the flaws, issues in the flaws, true nightmares in the form of things you so desperately wished to change.

The door was unlocked for you, the AI probably having told Tony you were on your way there so he’d grant you access before you could punch the code. He was alone except the bots, pieces of a suit scattered on the table he was sat in front of.

“Honey, hi!” he greeted, too chirpy to not have drunk more coffee than the recommended amount a day.

He explained his new idea in details, you knew because he was moving his hands while speaking. Every word escaped you as you stared at his slender fingers that fit perfectly with your chubbier ones. Pepper’s weren’t like yours, they probably fit his way better. He went on, probably thinking you were following his ramble or far too into it to realize your eyes were welling up with tears.

Why was he even with you? Pepper was a better option in any way. She knew how Stark Industries worked, how much space he needed and when, what to do to get him to take better care of himself— she was such a force to be reckoned, and you were just you. Everything that made you interesting was in front of you, his warm eyes fixed on your face.

You didn’t see him stand up, or walk toward you. You only reacted when you heard him call your name softly, in that tone he reserved for his loved ones, when he wasn’t wearing the facade he had been forced to show to the outer world.

He asked FRIDAY to check for injuries on your body and you could only shake your head. “I’m fine, Tony.”

“You’re crying, baby.” His hands rested on your arms, prompting you to focus your gaze on his t-shirt to not cry harder. “Did something happen? Is everyone in your family okay?”

God, he was always so nice, so kind that you couldn’t believe him to be real sometimes. “They’re fine.”

He rubbed your arms, up and down, something you often did to him when he was going through the aftermath of a panic attack. “Then? Did you watch that movie again? The one with—“

“Why are you with someone like me?” you interrupted him, supposing it was now or never.

Tony looked taken aback. “Because I love you.” He then turned serious, almost stoic. “Did someone do something to you? Did they say anything?”

“No!” You moved out of his grasp. “But I can’t stop thinking that you’re making a mistake, Tony. Pepper is right there,” you pointed to a random part of the laboratory just to put some emphasis.

“You don’t want to marry me?” he asked, hurt lacing his tone.

You bobbed your mouth, “of course I do, what kind of question is that?! But Tony, be realistic, I’m not Pepper. God, I’m nothing like Pepper at all. I’m not skinny, or blonde, or—“

“Is it what this is about? Your body?” You nodded in response. He approached you again, taking your chin between his thumb and index to lift your face. Your eyes found his, warm brown orbs full of emotion staring deep into your soul. “You know? I don’t like how harsh you’re on yourself,” he said softly, clearly meaning it. There was no intention of being pushy behind his words, only the truth.

But for you, the truth was what you had just said, and when you let him know that, he shook his head. “Tony,” you groaned, “it’s fine, I’m fat and we both know it.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with it and it looks like you don’t know it,” he countered with that matter of fact tone he liked to use when he knew he was right. He continued talking, “you’re not Pepper, you’re not anyone but yourself and that’s why I want to marry you because you’re are you, I love you.”

You opened your mouth to fight him on it, yet Tony being Tony wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head for you to stay silent and asked FRIDAY to type some notes on everything he had worked on that day.

He took your hand, guiding you out of the laboratory and toward the living room where you had been sulking earlier. You sat beside him, looking down at your shoes that suddenly were very interesting. He shifted, pulling you closer by your still intertwined fingers.

The position you two ended on was a little uncomfortable, he was fully on his back on the couch, hand twisted to not let yours go as you tried to place your weight in the correct way to not crush him. He chuckled at your attempts.

“You’re not going to squash me,” he assured you. You didn’t believe him, he knew. “Honey, there’s not a single thing wrong with you or your body, why can’t you believe me?”

“I see myself in the mirror every day.”

“Well, then maybe your eyesight is not as fine as I thought, but that can be fixed.”

You snorted at the joke, he breathed a laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“I am too, and I don’t want to hear you say those things again.” Seconds later, he seemed to understand how his comment could’ve come across because he clarified, “I don’t want you to feel like that, that’s what I mean.”

Humming, you tried to come up with something to ease his mind. In all fairness, you didn’t want to feel like that either, you just couldn’t control it sometimes. Bad days were heavy, they overpowered the good ones no matter how great those felt, you wanted to be able to go through the bad ones without doubting yourself so much. Explaining it was tougher than thinking about it, than feeling it.

Tony didn’t need you to explain it, though. With a kiss on your forehead, he mumbled, “we can talk about it later.” His free hand came to rest on your back, trailing up and down in a steady motion. You breathed in a little deep, humming again.

How much time passed you didn’t know, the truth was that his reassurance had been of a lot of help. By the moment you spoke again, you both were getting sleepy. You didn’t want to fall asleep without thanking him, though.

His answer? “I simply told you the truth.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x plus size reader #marvel x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size reader fanfic #plus size reader imagine

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thechekhov · 6 years

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how would you recommend an artist make themselves better known on tumblr and in general? ive been drawing and painting almost my whole life but its hard to get people to notice me, any advice? thank you, you're my fave artist

Thank you so much! That makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside…

As for your questions… hmm… it’s for sure a good one.

I’m going to get a bit… strategical on that one. Hope you don’t mind this approach.

Tumblr and real life are definitely alike in a lot of aspects, while in others they’re polar opposites. For the sake of keeping things neatly shelved, I’m going to focus on tumblr in this post.

＊*☆HOW TO GET ART NOTICED ON TUMBLR☆*＊

by chekhov

1. We have to understand how the tumblr sharing system works.

I know this sounds a bit too obvious. I mean, we all know HOW. It’s by reblogging!

I know that there’s a BIG opinion on tumblr that we should share and reblog art as much as possible to help artists get noticed. And that’s TRUE. It’s absolutely correct.

One thing I don’t agree with on that front is the guilt-tripping factor of it all. Like somehow people are responsible for the downfall of less popular artists because they didn’t reblog stuff enough. People are really quick to point at their followers and say “I GOT 100 OF Y’ALL HERE AND ONLY 3 ARE REBLOGGING ANYTHING”.

I get it. It’s frustrating!

But the fact of the matter is, you can’t force people to reblog stuff.

Instead, I recommend we harvest the power of the sharing we already have. We have to be smart about this. What I’m going to go into is a bit less concrete. We have to think about the PEOPLE who are doing the reblogging.

Artists aren’t the ONLY ones with motivations for getting their stuff seen. And because they create media they are, for lack of a better word… a vendor! The buck STARTS with them, but it doesn’t stop with them.

They have to also think about what the people are going to do with their product once it’s reblogged. Once someone buys from the vendor, they don’t just keep it forever. They distribute it to the others. And sometimes, those others distribute it again. We have to think about the bigger picture, and think about how FAR your art has the potential to go!

So, to get started we need to know… WHO are the ones buying from the vendor… and why?

What kind of rebloggers ARE there?

I’m going to give my own opinion here, and feel free to disagree. But the 3 biggest rebloggers most important to the artist are these:

1. The Pleaser

Sounds sexy, right? In fact, the pleaser comes in many different forms. But essentially their goal is the same - they reblog stuff like aesthetic posts, and other pleasing things. They themselves tend to like a lot of stuff and reblog mostly beautiful photos, nice designs, and lots of fanart of whatever they’re into at the time. Comics and story-like posts are good here (although if they’re too long, people tend to lose interest.)

How to get reblogged by a Pleaser?

Appeal to their fandom, their interest, and make something that moves them. Pleasers are most active around the time when the new episode of their favorite show comes out, or when their favorite holiday comes around. Drawing fanart during its peak popularity will usually catch a Pleasers’ attention, as will drawing aesthetic Halloween posts around, well, Halloween.

2. The Teaser

The Teaser is the class clown and the shitposter, and they reblog memes and jokes voraciously. In the Teaser’s audience are other teasers - and they also tend to be very generous rebloggers. The fact of the matter is - memes sell reblogs faster than any aesthetic art will. We’re social creatures and getting a laugh out of our followers is worth a LOT of fake internet points.

How do I get reblogged by the Teaser?

Memes. I mean, you knew this was coming, right? During the height of some new tumblr joke, people usually welcome any unusual spin, or any funny variation of an old joke.

My meme redraws have consistently been popular and have ‘boomed’ very quickly. For example, this redraw of sapphire from Steven Universe doing ‘the scroll of truth’ jumped to 5k almost within a day.

Many people peek at my page ‘for the lols’ but end up staying for the art, or because there’s another thing I post they’re interested in. Either way, memes are a gateway drug… to your blog.

3. The Librarian

The Librarian is a bit more rare, but they’re still important, because they tend to reblog a lot. They’re a bit unusual in the sense that they do this for themselves, instead of for an audience. The blog of the librarian is mostly just a replacement for bookmarking interesting stuff. These people tend to reblog tutorials, reference posts, and things they want to read later on.

How to get reblogged by a Librarian?

Make things that people want to keep around. Charts, references, tutorials. Chances are, the librarian will snag it up eventually.

Of course, these 3 aren’t the ONLY type of tumblr blogger. In fact, many of them are a mix of these 3. But the main point is…

2. What do most of these (and other) people on tumblr have in common?

Just like you, many people (although not all) want to get their stuff SEEN. You might be creating the original product, but they choose whether or not to distribute it to their audience.

Everyone is playing the same game, no matter which part of the chain they’re on.

You, as an artist, have the biggest responsibility to think about this long-term. Not only 1 reblog down the line.

For example, let’s return to one of my meme-posts that I did about wrist pain (carpal tunnel). When I made this, I had a vague idea of who would consume it. Obviously… other artists. But the reason that this got so popular? Is not only because fellow artists follow me. It’s because the artists that follow me also have followers who are also, conveniently, artists. That’s why despite the fact that many people reblogged the post directly from me - even MORE of them reblogged it from @sergle (shoutout to sergle! u rock) who is also a popular artist and also has an audience who were prone to want to reblog the post.

See that orange dot? That’s me. See that bigger blue dot? That’s sergle.

In a way, this is a game of chance. Will something you reblog be seen by someone with a large enough audience to keep it going? The thing is, we don’t know until it happens. And oftentime, the only way to achieve this is to keep trying. Stubbornly.

But you can’t just headbutt the wall in the same place and hope it eventually crumbles. You have to look for a door.

3. So what’s the door?

Take a look at your art. Is it consumable BEYOND the surface level of your followers?

Sometimes people get discouraged because their fanart is way more popular than their original art. Although I share their frustration, there’s a good reason for this, and your followers aren’t to blame.

The thing is, fanart is consumable at deep reblog levels. If you post fanart, there’s a good chance that even 3-4 reblogs down the line, there’s going to be a person who sees it and thinks ‘hey, I know Steven Universe. My followers know Steven Universe. I’ll reblog this!’ Fandoms are efficient because they already have a lot of context for the consumption of the art. They have a story (humans love stories), they’re invested in it, they’re interested in it, and there’s a good chance that sharing more stuff about it will get them more interaction with their mutuals, even if they’re not consciously thinking about all this as they reblog.

Unfortunately, that’s just not true for your original art. Many of us have beautiful, wonderful stories - but they’re not available to a wide audience. They’re not easily consumed, they’re not easily accessed (in comparison to being on netflix, for example). If you post a picture of your OC - maybe your immediate pool of followers who know that OC will reblog it. But their own followers who aren’t directly following you will not have any connection, emotional or otherwise, to that character. They simply don’t have a reason to care, and they don’t have any means to. Even if they visit your blog - will it be easy to find similar content? Have you got your links available on desktop AND mobile? Is it easy to find the beginning of your story? Is it free of mistakes and easy to read?

Large companies that make shows or comics funnel tons of money into making their media consumable. There’s a LOT of effort that goes into advertising, too. You, as an independent artist, simply don’t have that kind of manpower. That’s not your fault - but it’s also not your followers’ fault. Why are they supposed to reblog things that their own followers will never understand and connect with?

4. Back to square one: how do I get noticed?

I’m gonna keep this short and sweet because I feel like I already took up a lot of your time. After everything I’ve said, hopefully this will make sense:

Make content that has a connection to your audience somehow. Make it relatable to their life. Make it relatable to what’s currently going on. Make it worth their while to look at it.

Make content that’s easy to understand. Super detailed drawings, with nothing to focus on are difficult to digest. Simpler, sharper drawings that someone can understand within 3 seconds of looking at it are the most digestible of all. This isn’t a museum.

If you’re creating content that goes with a story, MAKE THE STORY. I know it’s tempting to create just a whole bunch of character sketch sheets and leave it at that, but you can’t complain about not getting an audience when your audience doesn’t have anything to consume in the first place.

Make the story AVAILABLE. Organize your tags. Make sure those tags are easily accessible. People will never like 100% of your art, so many it easy for them to find what they WILL like.

Don’t be afraid of fanart. Fanart gets you connected with people who like stories and content similar to yours.

Don’t be afraid to follow and reblog people that you want to connect with. Don’t be afraid to make them stuff and @ them.

Post your stuff to a LOT of places! Your audience is somewhere out there - probably not only on tumblr. You have to spread yourself thin sometimes, but make sure the account can all lead back to your main hub.

And last but not least…

Critically re-evaluate your art at least once a year. (I’m personally working on this.) Just because you’ve been drawing for years, and just because your art might be incredible doesn’t mean it’s appealing to people. Sounds weird, right? But think about it - there’s TONS of people who are not that amazing at anatomy, or coloring… but they still have a huge audience, and people connect with their art. A lot of times, it’s because their art is straightforward and easy to read/understand.

Ask a friend to critique your art. Ask them if they understand your work, or if it’s difficult to make out. Ask them what your work inspires in them. Ask them what they DO like about your work - and exaggerate that!

There’s a LOT that goes into art… no matter it’s a whole industry! Doing it all on your own is HARD and it’s a bit unthinkable how much artists have to do to compete with industries. But it’s not impossible, and it’s definitely worth it. :)

Hope I didn’t bore any of y’all who made it down this far.

Thanks!

#reblogging #art #artists on tumblr #arting #Anonymous #long post

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fanfeline · 5 years

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The Danton Case - Complete Notes

More like disjointed amusing moments, but whatever.

Here is a complete post of my notes through all 5 acts of Pryzybyszewska’s Danton Case! I really enjoyed doing this, and I hope you all did as well. Let me know if I should do Thermidor as well....

Act I

Robespierre: Well, this is too much. I look like a gigantic withered cauliflower.

Note: this is his first line in the play.

We’re not going to talk about Eléonore trying to give Maxime a blowjob we’re just not

please don’t make me

please

Eléonore and Robespierre have a really weird relationship in this; he barely tolerates her existence, but keeps being very physical with her and it’s very uncomfortable to read.

“Child, I do not love you anymore - I am literally indifferent to you!”

I don’t even know what to say about Saint-Just in this he’s barely human

Saint-Just [glumly]: Are you delirious? Robespierre: [bursts out laughing, which does not necessarily reassure his friend]

Robespierre has strange names for people

Eléonore is “lioness,” “viper” etc.

Camille is “calf” “wonder child” “talented baby” and a bunch of just…random stuff

Danton and Co. have really weird code names that are never explained

Danton himself is C Three. No idea why.

Louise absolutely despises Danton with her whole heart

[Camille Desmoulins rushes in, very excited]

Again, this is how he enters the play

Danton: Stay. Well, Camille? Have a drink. Well, what have you done now?

Everyone wants to be a dictator and tyrant!! cause that’s how it went.

Act II

Collot: let’s kill Camille!! Robespierre: ...no.

Paraphrased, but barely

Camille: Danton, I will not allow even you to make such jokes. Danton [grips and squeezes him]: What, you won’t allow it?! [squeezes him stronger] You still won’t? Camille [swooning]: Mm-n-mm…oh!

Camille [more softly, clasping his hands nervously] Georges: send me to die. I want to die for you. Danton [gives a friendly laugh] Better write, instead of dying...what use is your corpse to me?

yeah no one actually has any respect for Camille in this play

Vadier [a veritable mimosa as far as his self-love is concerned]

[sparks fly from Danton’s eyes]

he has laser eyes, who knew?

Danton: And you still won’t take your mask off, thought I see through it to every line on your face?! English blood, no doubt….[Robespierre reacts with an Irish look, knowing that it is not worth correcting such remarks]

Robespierre: Oh, yes: I’ve made a fatal mistake. Danton is a source of the plague.

[Camille rushes in, ill-tempered, throws off his cloak and hat, falls on the sofa and assumes a depressed pose.] Lucile: Well…? [when her husband makes a demonstrative gesture] Oh, my spouse! We’ve done something foolish again?!

Robespierre: He [Camille] simply must have his melodrama!

Camille’s sitting in front of him. They’re the only ones in the room.

Robespierre and Camille fight brutally, and to be honest it really hurts to read.

Act III

Actually, both Robespierre and Danton want to be king. Who knew?

Collot [starts to his feet]: Who asked you to interfere, you...underling?! Lindet: Thank you for that honorable title, hangdog. [Collot throws himself at Lindet, restrained by those near him.]

Lindet seems to spend the rest of the CPS meeting ringing a bell and begging people to shut up.

Robespierre: Which of us will go drown out that miracle-making thunderous bass (Danton)? My drawing-room contralto, perhaps? Or Saint-Just’s low-pitched tenor?

Robespierre is very musical in this play, whistling “the entire chromatic scale” in Act I for no reason and then doing this in Act III

[Lindet vehemently rings the bell]

Saint-Just (looking for paper): Nothing doing without the secretary…. [attacks the cabinet, breaks fingernails]

smooth, dumbass. lmao

[Delacroix has the familiar Satanic expression of a fellow conspirator]

Camille [shakes]: Don’t dare mention him (Robespierre)! [leans towards him (Danton) across the table] I’ve spent my life on my knees before the two of you. I’ve worn myself out in your service. And you both knew slyly how to exploit my blindness. From now on I am a free man. I don’t care what happens to me… but I’ve broken with both of you, rotten idols, forever. [turns away]

His newly-declared independence lasts approximately 1 page before he collapses sobbing and pledges his allegiance to Danton again

Again, Danton is uncomfortably physical and abusive with Louise.

She hates him so much… there is no healthy relationship in this play.

ahhhh shit it’s time for the “trial”

Robespierre: I request - the right - to speak!

Most characteristic line yet, if you ask me

Why is Courtois defending Danton? Or does he just hate Robespierre that much?

Act IV

[Camille is standing by the window, crying]

This is roughly the third time this has happened in this play

Philippeaux is just yelling at a very depressed Camille it’s not fun to read Camille: Have pity...and help me, or I shall perish!!! [throws himself on the bed] Philippeaux: You will die in five days, Desmoulins. [Camille goes numb. His crying stops like a switched-off radio]

ngl this made me...very upset

Figure II [stretches out his hand]: Camille, no irony is intended: we thank you in the name of France. [Camille, consoled, returns the embrace and smiles] Philippeaux: Camille - that’s the Comte and Vicomte d’Estaing (royalists). [Camille withdraws, horrified.]

Everyone’s sitting on each other’s beds and it just reads like a massive sleepover for these few lines (ignoring the fact that they’re imprisoned and will be dead in 5 days)

Lucile tries bribing the judges, and is rather disappointed when they don’t take her bribes.

And then Legendre walks in and Lucile is like “you know what? New plan. Hey Legendre you’re a butcher right? Go murder Robespierre!”

Lucile?!?!?!?

[But the essentially gay tone does not change]

That’s a decent summary of Pryzybyszewska

[It is likely that Desmoulins will provoke deadly French laughter deriding both him and his party]

Fouquier-Tinville is already so done with everyone

Robespierre (to Eléonore) [extends one hand to her; he leaves the other on his forehead]: I am sorry. I’m going insane.

Robespierre forgot to eat for like 36 hours and honestly? same

also he’s an authoritarian dictator now i guess

[Robespierre breaks into sonorous, pleasant laughter and disappears]

Act V

[Desmoulins is standing on the table, at which Philippeaux is reading]

This is the stage setup at the beginning of the act. Camille is still Camille.

Danton: Ah, that is exactly the point! Ha, ha! Maxime has done me a very good turn by having systematically concentrated power in his own hands for years: all I need to do now is to take from him… a ready-made dictatorship!

...What?

Camille’s trying desperately to convince Danton to spare Robespierre’s life after all of this he’s still trying to save his friend whyyyyyyyyyyy

[Danton stretches his hand towards the candle] Camille [nervously]: No!!! Georges, please don’t put it out!... Danton [with outstretched hand]: But why? Camille: It’s so horrible here… please leave it, I implore you!

Look, I hate Camille’s infantilization in media as much as the next person, but ahhhh my heart

Camille [after a while, shyly]: Georges….

Danton starts to like...feel himself up and monologue dramatically while everyone else is asleep it’s a real weird page and a half

also he calls Robespierre a “red Irish monkey”

Camille starts screaming and talking in his sleep, begging someone (Robespierre, I wonder?) for forgiveness

Philippeaux: But what did you have against saving that boy - whom, without any reason, you have driven to suicide?... Danton [gives Camille a contemptuous look]: Should I have gratified Robespierre, do you think? For that matter, it will be better for Desmoulins himself to die than to prostitute himself again.

[Depressed silence again. Robespierre slowly places his elbows on the table, and his forehead on his joined hands.]

same

This is roughly the part where Robespierre begins to collapse mentally - continuing well into the next play, “Thermidor”

Fouquier: [bangs the table with a file because Danton is opening his mouth again]

Danton actually manages to turn the whole crowd against the Committee - the mob starts calling for immediate acquittal and protesting the mockery of a trial

Fabre: Thank God it’s the end. I’m barely alive anyway.

Pryzybyszewska makes very clear that the whole trial is corrupted and rigged against the Indulgents

aaaaaand cut their hair, exit stage, we never see them again

Saint-Just and Robespierre have a long conversation about oppression and dictatorship that takes several rapid and interesting turns

Robespierre: Maybe it is madness.

Saint-Just [over his shoulder]: It is not madness, it’s despair. [He turns round. Speaks nonchalantly, but clearly] Shoot yourself. [He stops by the window, aimlessly looking at the yard. Robespierre slowly falls onto the bed, lies down.]

I….what?!?

Antoine, what?????

Robespierre: *lies down for the first time in god knows how long* [He (Barère) rushes into the room. Robespierre, brutally wakened, lifts himself on his shoulder with a slight hiss of fright. In a second he gives the intruder a deadly look which totally puts Barère out of countenance.] Barère: Oh… I’m sorry. May I?… Robespierre [motionless, sits on the bed]: You’re asking that question somewhat late….

[Saint-Just comes in with a helpless shrug of his shoulders]

[Saint-Just watches him with glowing eyes]

[Both gens de la haute main (Robespierre and Saint-Just) look at each other as if mutually hypnotized by their appearance. A long pause of perfect immobility.]

Robespierre [tense all of a sudden. Dead silence in the room.] Do you hear?... Saint-Just [sulking]: What? Robespierre: The crowd is coming back. Saint-Just: Requiescant in pace.

#ari babbles #ari reviews the danton case #the danton case #stanislawa pryzybyszewska #pryzybyszewska #thp #hope you enjoyed!

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romana73 · 5 years

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STAR WARS WOMEN 2 PART

Post written by ME. The animated gifs shown, however, AREN’T MINE and it DON’T BELONG TO ME IN ANY WAY. Sorry for my mistakes, but English isn’t my first language

HERE IS FIRST PART of this post:

https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/182414735626/star-wars-women-1-part

“You’re wrong, Leia. You have that power too. In time you’ll learn to use it as I have. The Force is strong in my family. My father has it. I have it and…my sister has it. Yes. It’s you, Leia”

(Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, from “Star Wars Episode VI, Return of the Jedi” movie)

In this post we will get to talk about famous scandal stone, scene in which, in "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie, floating in open space, Leia save herself using Force. Many are snapped, outraged, protesting Leia isn’t a Jedi and she hasn’t Force, so that scene should be redone and she die or be rescued by some errant knight (male, of course!) In fact, it would be enough to read quote reported to me at this post beginning, pronounced by LUKE SKYWALKER lived voice, in last chapter of original saga, CREATED AND DIRECTED BY GEORGE LUCAS, STAR WARS DAD, to blush and hide in some lost cave. In this post I'm going, however, in chronological order, so, before talking about Leia, I have to talk about ...

SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY:

QI'RA:

Orphan, thief, fighter, ambiguous and HAN SOLO’s first love, from which she’s separated as a young girl. Three years later, Qi'ra and Han find themselves in Alba Cremisi base, a criminal organization for which Beckett, Han's accomplice thief, is working. Han discovers Qi'ra is pupil and woman of DRYDEN VOS, organization boss, from which she was saved and trained. In end, Qi'ra will KILL DRYDEN in order to SAVE HAN, but then she LEFT HAN, also if SHE LOVE HIM, to JOIN DARTH MAUL, SITH at service of Emperor Palpatine:

VAL BECKETT:

Thief, Tobias Beckett’s wife, strong, disillusioned, rude, actually she’s really in love with Tobias, till she will sacrifice herself:

ROGUE ONE: A STAR WARS STORY

JYN ERSO:

Daughter of Galen Erso, a scientist forced by Empire to create deadly Death Star. Jyn is forced by her father to flee away, just before Imperials take him. Jyn grew up with extremist rebel Saw Gerrera. When she becomes adult, Jyn is imprisoned by imperial, but she’s freed from Resistance who enlist her for a mission: to prevent Death Star from completing. At cost of her life, Jyn will steal weapon's plans, which shows weak point of Death Star, managing to get them to have the Princess LEIA ORGANA, REBEL ALLIANCE LEADER, so Rebels can destroy weapon:

"Star Wars. Episode IV. A New Hope","Star Wars. Episode V. Empire Strikes In Back","Star Wars. Episode VI. The Return of the Jedi":

LEIA ORGANA:

Daughter of jedi ANAKIN SKYWALKER and PADME' AMIDALA, senator and FOUNDER REBEL ALLIANCE. LUKE SKYWALKER’S SISTER TWIN, adopted daughter of BAIL ORGANA, Prince of Alderaan and Senator and Queen Breha Antilles. HAN SOLO’s wife and MOTHER of BEN SOLO, then became KYLO REN. Senator, RESISTANCE’S LEADER AND GENERAL, excellent fighter, especially with blaster, Leia is one who will put wheel of fate in motion, hiding in droid R2D2, plans stolen by Jyn Erso about Death Star and a help message for Jedi OBI - WAN KENOBI

Captured and tortured by LORD VADER, she will amaze him for her HIGH MENTAL RESISTANCE: "Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable. Can be extract from any information” (Darth Vader about Leia Organa, from the movie "Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope") Leia will only surrender when Vader and Governor Tarkin destroy Alderaan, her home planet, in front her eyes

Leia will be freed by Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Obi - Wan Kenobi. Three years later, Leia is one of REBELE ALLIANCE’S COMMANDERS and participates to evacuation on Hoth planet. ‘Cause of Lando Calrissian’s betrayal, she, Han and Chewbecca, will be CAPTURED and IMPRISONED by Darth Vader, who will torture and freeze Han into the carbonite. Successfully escaping with Lando and Chewbacca, later, Leia receives LUKE’S MENTAL CALL, to whom Darth Vader has cut a hand and runs to save him: "Ben... Ben, please! Ben. Leia! Hear me! Leia!" "Luke... we’ve got to go back" "What?" "I know where Luke is" (Luke, Leia and Lando, from "Star Wars Episode V. Empire Strikes Again" movie)

Six months later, disguised as a bounty hunter, Leia manages to enter Jabba The Hutt’s den, where Han is still frozen in carbonite. Leia manages to free Han from freezing. Unfortunately, their escape is discovered and Jabba closes Han in cell, keeping Leia as his slave. Luke and Rebel Alliance are coming to couple rescue. During battle, LEIA KILLS JABBA THE HUTT, throttling him using chain with which she was tied:

Later, before his death, Master Yoda reveals to Luke EXIST ANOTHER SKYWALKER: "Pass on what you have learned, Luke... there is...another...Sky...Sky...walker." (Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, from the movie "Star Wars Episode VI, Return of the Jedi") Intrigued, Luke asks for explanations to Obi - Wan Kenobi ghost, who reveals truth to him: Leia is his TWIN SISTER. She’s THE OTHER SKYWALKER Yoda was talking about:

“The other he spoke of is your twin sister”

“But I have no sister”

”Mm. To protect you both from the Emperor, you were hidden from your father when you were born. The Emperor knew, as I did. If Anakin were to have any offspring, they would be a threat to him. That is the reason why your sister remains safely anonymous”

“Leia. Leia’s my sister”

“Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor.”

(Luke Skywalker and Obi - Wan Kenobi, from "Star Wars Episode VI, Return of the Jedi” movie)

Meanwhile, led by Leia, Han and Luke, a rebels contingent on Endor to deactivate a shield prevents their fleet from attacking Death Star. In a moment of tranquility, Luke reveals to Leia that Darth Vader is their father, they are twins and SHE HAVE THE FORCE: "[...] And that's not all. It will not be easy for you to listen to it, but you must do it: if I do not survive, only you can save the Covenant " "Luke do not talk like that: you have absolutely exceptional powers that I do not have at all" "You're wrong, Leila: you have those powers too. Over time, you too will learn how to use them. Force flows in my family. In my father... in me...and in... my sister also... yes... it's you, Leila" "I know. It's as if... If I had always known " (Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, from the movie "Star Wars Episode VI, Return of the Jedi")

From that moment, Leia uses the Force to instinct. Looking inside her, Leia manages to PERCEIVE Luke is alive: “I'm sure Luke wasn't on that thing when it blew”

“He wasn't. I can feel it” (Han Solo and Leia Organa, from "Star Wars Episode VI, Return of the Jedi" movie)

Leia is ONLY WOMAN TO PARTICIPATE in person at Endor BATTLE

Given all this, it seems to me supported by TESTS AND EVIDENTS, SUPPLIED BY OLD SAGA, Leia HAS FORCE and it’s UNDERSTANDING, over time, Luke has taught Leia to use it. At this point, Rian Johnson and J.J. Abrams SHOULDN’T RECTIFY and CORRECT NOTHING to "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The latest Jedi" movie, ‘cause Leia has every right to use Force and call Luke through that:

Special Mention for MON MOTHMA: Human woman, senator of Galactic Senate and Imperial Senate, LEADER of Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic and first CANCELLER of New Republic. Faithful friend of Padme Amidala, Mothma was a POLITICAL MENTOR of Princess/General LEIA ORGANA. Always Mothma instructs JYN ERSO to find information about Death Star:

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suhsuhsuckit · 6 years

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Ten- scared to lose you

For the past 2 years, you had a drastic vision change and you have been throwing up, and you already know you’re underweight. You’ve been telling people you throw up easily but no one believes you. They think you’re just trying to get attention since it happens so often. One day, you were staying the night with your new boyfriend, Ten. You told him you were not feeling too well and right after that you started to puke. Your head was throbbing, feeling like it was about to burst. Ten helped you lay down and he got you water and Advil.

“Thank you Ten.” You smile, sitting up for a little, quickly taking it. “I’m sorry I got sick.. I was doing good for a while.” He smiles softly as he lays a hand on your lap.

“It’s okay, maybe we will know what’s going on one day.” You nod and close your eyes.

“Babe, can you turn the light off?..” it’s making my headache hurt more..” he nods and turns off the light for you then lays down next to you, keeping an eye on you. You kept your eyes closed, your headache getting worse and worse with every second that ticked by. It wasn’t long after you started to drift to sleep. You suddenly woke up, puking in the trashcan ten places near the bed. He was worried for you and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Before you knew it, it was 1 am, and you sat with your head pressed against the bed post because that helped the pain sometimes. With the pain dying down a little, you finally went to bed. You didn’t get much sleep in, neither did Ten. You woke up a couple hours later, crying in pain, holding your head tightly.

“It hurts! It hurts so bad!” It felt like dozens and dozens of knifes where going through your head. Ten quickly woke up and called your parents. He was letting them know that he was taking you to the hospital. He couldn’t bare to see you in pain. He quickly helped you into the car, bringing a pillow for you to lay your head against in the car. He drove as fast as he could to the nearby emergency room.

Once he got there, he helped you in. You walked in perfectly fine and he told the lady at the desk what was wrong. The nurse took you to get your height and weight. They soon take you to a room, making you change into a hospital gown. Ten was going to leave the room but you asked him to help you. Soon after you changed, the nurse took you back to your CT scan. They hooked many wires up to you before the scan started.

*couple hours later*

You have been in your room for a while while the nurses came in and started to give you an IV. You just sit there as calm as you could be, you knew something was wrong, but you couldn’t freak out. While the IV was being placed in your hand, the Doctor took Ten out of the room.

“Where is her parents?” Ten had the most scared look on his face.

“Out of town.. I’m her boyfriend.” The Doctor nods and sighs.

“We already called the other hospital. The ambulance is on their way. “

“Wait.. what?..” Ten started to get teary eyed as the Doctor took him to go see the CT scans. He pointed at this big blob in the lower half of the brain.

“This is a brain tumor. And where it is, it’s blocking her Spinal drainage tube, so all of these other white spots is fluid.” He tried to explain it as simple as he can for Ten. But all can think of is how he may lose you. The though of you next to him scared him to death. “Look, we don’t want you to cry, we don’t want her to worry right now.” He took ten back to your room. The nurses from the other hospital came in, and they quickly transfer you to a different hospital bed and took you to the ambulance. Ten followed, and drove in the front seat.

It felt like with in seconds, you were already at the other hospital, and right when they took you out, you blacked out.

Ten followed while holding your hand. He didn’t want to let go of you, he was terrified if he did, he’d lose you. He followed them up to a room and he sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. You had your eyes closed shut and Held his hand tightly.

“I think i am going to sleep. My head hurts and I can’t keep my eyes open” you started to mumble. Ten held your hand tight and nodded. He watched you fall asleep and he started to cry. He was scared to lose you.

“ I really hope you’ll come out okay from this.. I really don’t want to lose you.. “ He holds your hands against your face, and he watches you sleep. He couldn’t fall asleep at all. He could only think about how he needs to be the one to take care of you until your parents get back. He watches your stomach rise and fall as you sleep as the tears roll down his face. “I really love you Y/N.. I really do.. no matter where we are I always feel like I’m at home..”. Once he finished speaking, his eyes fluttered shut. He falls asleep next to your bed with your hand up against his lips.

The next night, around 4 am you were taken to have emergency surgery. You woke up screaming in pain, saying you head is going to explode. While the surgery was happening, Ten was taken to your new room. He sat in the chair by the window, watching sirens go on then quickly disappearing. With in the next few hours, they brought you into the room. Ten glanced up and all he saw was a tube coming out of your head. He started to bawl his eyes out. He couldn’t believe this was happening to you, he kept sitting there, wishing it was all a Dream.

The rest of the day went by quick because you were mostly sleeping and Ten was keeping your parents updated.

By the next day you were having another surgery, this time to remove the tumor. You remember them taking you back into this big room and asking “Banana or cherry” and you picked banana. The next thing you know, you woke up with all the nurses staring at you then you were out again.

You were taken back to the room, and Ten was there with flowers and balloons. There was also cards from your friends and other family who came by. You slept off and on all day again and Ten never left your side. He didn’t eat much because he wanted to be by your side the whole time.

Through the next 9 days, Ten stayed by your side and helped you with your therapy. He even stayed after your parents finally showed up. He helped you walk to the bathroom.

One day, you where sleeping, so your parents and Ten talked. “ they said the tumor was 5 cm. It was benign tumor on her cerebellum.” Your mom shrugged while hugging your dad. “The doctors were not sure if she could even walk again.” Your parents felt bad because they were not there until after your surgery and Ten could tell they were upset about that.

“She did well. She is already starting to walk again, she hasn’t cried once, she’s just a little mean because of the steroids.” He rubs your mom’s arm. “She’s doing amazing. I thought I would be the one claiming her down but yet when she’s awake, she’s the one that calms me down.” You finally started to wake up right when the nurse walks in with the doctor.

They quickly pulled the tube out of your head . Ten was watching and he looked away not being able to watch. With in seconds he heard you screaming. He quickly ran in the room and hugged you.

“What happen?” He said with worry.

“It hurts when they put staples in you” you started to cry and hugged him tightly. It hurt..” He kisses your nose and wipes your tears.

“It’s okay love. I’m right here” He smiles lightly and it felt like all your pain, emotionally and physically, had disappear.

—

A few days later, you where able to get out of the hospital and Ten took you to therapy when your parents couldn’t. He always cheered you on and helped you at home.

“Babe, you’re doing so good. You’re getting stronger already. “ ten said as you made it up the stairs with out Help finally.

—

The way she smiled after she made it up the stairs made my heart skip many beats. Watching her make progress from something so horrible is something that makes me fall in love with her more. She’s living proof of miracles. I was terrified I would lose her and yet she was always the one to calm me down and tell me everything is okay. She believed in her self, she was strong.

“Ten are you going to come up here and live on your living room with me” she giggles and walks to the couch. I couldn’t help but smile big. I quickly went up the stairs and sat next to her. I was careful about cuddling her since she still had staples. “I love you so much Ten. I’m so glad you didn’t leave me.” She looked at me as if I was a prize.

“Why would I Leave the love of my life” i kisses her cheek. She giggled and cuddled me more. I honestly can’t wait to go through this journey with her and watch her grow as our relationship grows. I just want to make her as happy as she makes me.

A/N: this might be crap but I really hope you do find a way to like it. Please feel free to correct me on any spelling and grammar mistakes, even though I am 18, I’m still learning.

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srlkiller · 3 years

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today was a lot. i had a 1on1 therapy thing that was supposed to be like an INTRO TO UR RECOVERY WOO!!! LETS GET UR MENTAL HEALTH IN CONTROL!!! But instead it turned into me having 4 panic attacks constantly crying while venting to a social worker in a room w no air con for 2 hours about ‘how my month has been’ and ‘why i haven’t been attending any of my group therapy?’ well sue sweetie.. u asked me…n boy did i give u the answer ur career as a social worker has been WAITING 4!! then i got my 1st covid shot & briefly spoke to my doctor who was rude asf so i was like ok today fucked. Centrelink also called me and told me wrong info which fucked me over. then i see my dad calling and im like OFC HE IS!!massive fight as per n he hangs up but then continues via text bc hes petty asf.

BUT not as petty as my mom bc that is literally how the fight started. bc of her. like this bitch omg. she purposely runs off to my dad and tells him every little thing i do ‘wrong’ bc she knows his temper and how afraid i am of him due to past events so she uses him to basically do her dirty work for her n ‘scare me’. like that’s how manipulative and fucked up she is in the head. she made up a whole ass lie and told my dad that i said to my mom the only reason i was trying to stay in contact with my dad was so that i remain in his will as like the sole beneficiary or whatever….. how sick and twisted must you be to lie to someone directly in their face about something so serious INVOLVING UR OWN CHILD that you share with that person????? i would NEVER! say that about my dad. EVER. this happened months ago btw. as soon as i spoke about it w my dad and i was like “what.. dad i would never say that you know i don’t give a fuck about money like that i don’t care about your will why would i even be thinking about your will?” he was like wait actually that’s fucked up ur right. It was actually HER who made that comment. she got my dad to go and fix fencing at my nans house for free (using him) n my dad mentioned he had a girlfriend. my mum came home & SAID TO ME “u better hurry up and get in ur dads good books now that he has a gf.. before she gets a hold of his will and u end up w nothing” and i simply told her that my dad would never take me off his will regardless so why say that to me. once she got exposed she backtracked and was like “oh it was just a joke” & both my dad and I were both saying that even as a joke how is that funny? how does your mind even start to think in that way? how is this funny to you? then she flips it. her scripts are so repetitive now that ive caught on that i can actually predict what she’s gonna say before she opens her mouth. she manipulates u into thinking ur reality isn’t correct.. saying things like “ omg ur over reacting lol ur so dramatic no wonder no one takes u seriously in life, grow up, i have no idea what ur going on about, have u taken ur medication for the day, have u lost it, are u high on something?” like what in the fuck?

i never once mentioned anything about anyones will.. when i was younger i made the mistake obviously of telling her that my dad was leaving me his house. when my nans will was getting exposed she became overly obsessed w wills in general and changed hers. im guessing behind my back she has actually taken me off now but i don’t want her dirty ass money which is stolen from my accounts anyway. my nan left all her grandchildren a large sum of money that was supposed to be equally split among us, its now been over a year since my nan passed & i noticed a group text come up on my moms phone from her sisters talking about what they did for their children with that money. one of them paid off their entire hex debt so it must be a substantial amount. i have not seen a cent which means she has taken it for herself, put it in her name and placed it into a secret account without my knowledge. if it’s as much $ as i believe it is, this could seriously help me move out and better my situation which she constantly tells me she wants me to get the fuck out ect. yet you are holding the key to the door in ur hand? that’s twisted and very sick. they fought for a year over my nans money and all i asked for was an old XXXX gold stubby holder that was my grandads bc it was very sentimental to me. instead, they chose to have a garage sale and sold all of my nans things and sold that stubby holder to a random person for 20 cents………. i was in shock when i found out.. and they laughed and were like get over it omg it’s just a stubby holder you can just buy another one. these people are so fucked up but they all made me feel like i was losing my mind my whole life. money isn’t shit without sentiment. i could have given you 20 cents if you need that shit so bad. im only attached partially to these evil ass roaches by some genetics but to me none of them are my family. not once have i ever felt cared for, loved, accepted, safe or happy in their presence. i am only ever wanted when they can gain something from me. that is not family. my grandad was big on family n my nan and my grandad are the only two people i claim as family from my moms side. my nans two blind siblings who i admired & adored + a few of my grandads siblings were the only ones who actually showed interest in getting to know me & didn’t look down on me in any way. i was never considered ‘less than’ or not good enough yet i was the family disappointment to my mom and her sisters. but they have never seen her like i see her. the way she acts in front of family is not the person i know. she’s very good at acting. the way she pretends to be a ‘mother’ in front of her own family is actually scary. she’s like the ultimate con artist except she’s too fucking dumb to actually scam people and get rich off of her ability to manipulate whoever she wants. what a shame ur not intelligent.. that sure must suck huh. my nan gave me that maternal love i never had from my mother and my grandad was always that man who held us all together as a unit. when he got sick everything changed and started to go down hill. they had to give up their entire property, his big beautiful garden and vegetables he was really passionate about, the horses and land ect. my nan planted a rose bush and it grew big and blossomed big red roses and she said this is for you, my little rachel rose 🌹 🥺 she said she wanted to take the whole ass bush w her and replant it 😂 but my grandad was like we are not taking a fucking huge ass rose bush w thorns in the car w us Gloria.. i only remembered this today during that therapy session and i hyperventilated so bad n just started crying.. bc i couldn’t believe my brain had blocked that memory for so long just to recover it now that she’s no longer here to share it with.

i can feel the love my dad has for me even when he’s temperamental.. you can see it in his face and his eyes. when i look at my mom i try desperately to find some sort of just fucking anything and… i see nothing. i can tell that she doesn’t feel anything. but she does for other children. just not me. so i know she isn’t a heartless bitch and is capable of emotions of all sorts.. but anything to do with me it’s almost like im invisible or she cannot see fault in her self. she cannot in any way accept anything she has ever done, she has never said the words ‘I’m sorry’ for anything ever in life involving me, she has stood by (literally stood and watched) while her own sisters verbally abused me as a minor calling me out my name AND one even texted my best friend at the time who was about 14 saying that i was a bitch. meaning my mom gave my aunt my friends number to text that message.. my friends mom was livid about this bc what grown ass woman texts a random 14 year old girl paragraphs of shit like that swearing at them and saying that their friend is a rude ungrateful bitch. her mom reacted as a mother should. as i would love my mother to stick up for me just once in life.. u kno.. ever? i still remember my first SUI attempt at like 16 after being abused and this person told me they were leaving and coming back so i had about a 10 min window of time and i panicked as any 16 young girl home alone would.. i called my mom for help bc ur parents are supposed to protect you. her wording was “well what did u do to make him hit you?” “you know that you deserved that”. i was in disbelief that she would react like that.. she was talking so calmly while i was crying hysterically having a panic attack telling her this man was coming back in 10 mins asking her to please help me.. and all she could say was.. “you probably deserved it”. ive never been the same since then tbh. im not blessed enough to be a parent yet, i may never be.. but i know for a fucking FACT that i would NEVER say any of the shit that she says to me to ANY child let alone MY OWN?!?

you had me at 36 years old. you had time to think about this and evaluate whether you thought you would be able to care for a child and make a good parent. If you “didn’t want to deal with me” then you had other options.. you could have sent me to foster care, you could have adopted me out, you could aborted me, shidddd you could have mf swallowed me bitch let’s be real. no, you chose to have a child. there’s no 18 year contract.. she loves to play that card. “UR AN ADULT NOW”, what about me makes me an adult, my age makes me an adult to you? yet you’ve kept me so childlike, so codependent & haven’t taught me basic life skills despite me asking to learn. like im deadass watching YouTube videos to teach myself basic ass life skills… that is sad as fuck. when im 48… guess what??? i am still your child and unfortunately for me!! you are STILL my parent. there’s no changing that bc you made that choice. you can’t just b like yeah i change my mind nvm i want to return it…… like that is really her attitude. i was born with a lot of health issues that have escalated a lot and only continue to get worse with age both mental and physical. guess what tho… if ur child is born with defects u don’t get to just b like omg ew i don’t want it now this one’s too difficult. like trust me.. if i was one of those lil sperm rn i am not about to fertilise u for NOTHING if this is the consequence I’d rather jus keep on swimming lmao.

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