#the constant they assumed they could come back to no longer exists and something new has to be built out of the rubble

[dilfkuza]

thought a little too long about what readjusting to being in each other's lives again must have been like for Majima and Saejima. coming back to one of the only people you still have left only to realize they're not the person you had to leave behind. the commadarie is there, but in a new font because you lived an entire life away from each other. how long did it take for Majima to ease up on the Mad Dog persona around Saejima, to register that he was still safe and wouldn't be taken away from him again?

only for Saejima to go back to jail and set them back to square one, adding another name to the list of people that Majima is patiently waiting for. another hand holding the leash that grounds him because they're all he really cares about at this point, Tojo be damned. how long did it take for Saejima to learn how to navigate the minefield that is the Mad Dog? how many times did Majima metaphorically bare his teeth and fight against someone seeing under the mask? it would be safe to let him in, it's just his Taiga, but for almost 30 years raising his hackles is what he's known best.

and how many times did Saejima push through regardless, because despite the showmanship and the decades lost, that's still his kyoudai.

#you know that post about bringing the wife back from the dead but shes not the same? #that but Majima's near death experience in the Hole/Saejima's decades lost being institutionalised #both were forever marked by their situations while their idea of each other remained frozen in the 1980s. #the constant they assumed they could come back to no longer exists and something new has to be built out of the rubble #a stranger wearing the face of a loved one. interactions that should be second nature suddenly foreign. #is this a word salad or does this infact make sense? your guess is as good as mine lmao #currently so eepy. allergies knocking my ass out got me feelin like Majima when he thought he was goin zombie #need to rest my head gently on Saejima's tummy so i can get that cartoon snork mimimi honk shoo honk shoo sleep goin on #majima goro #saejima taiga #bulletin board #saemaji

[chaikachi]

Listen as a RG shipper who has been burned by other shows with ships I don’t wanna put my tin hat on. But NEO??? Has been using Oscar A LOT to mess with Ruby. And assuming she turned into Ruby to trick Oscar to get the lamp back in V7 👀👀👀 also I just rewatched V5 and when they all have a sit down he just stares at her and Ruby giggles and I’m like “HE THINKS SHES PRETTY AWWWW” like I’m not calling it shipbait bc I have no idea if they will become Bee levels of canon and I’ll be fine if they don’t. But MAN do they care about each other A Lot in canon to the point where the Optical Illusion character uses them to hurt each other. Like Yang? Her big sister totally get it. Penny? Neo knew when she died with her first body that’s her best friend after or alongside Weiss but Weiss isn’t dead. But OSCAR!?? The guy she only met THREE volumes ago HES the one who shows up? Not her UNCLE or JAUNE but FARMBOY????

Neo ships it (evily) is all I’m saying

I don't wanna get peoples hopes up in case crwby somehow swerves off course or we just don't get to see the end of the show, but I genuinely don't think it's shipbait at this point.

First want to bring up the v5 thing. Yes he stares at and giggles at her, firmly believe that boy had a case of love crush at first sight... but Ruby ends up mirroring very similar tone, dialogue, and body language later on in the fumble scene.

Oscar: Ah, sorry! Ruby: Heh, sorry-

Putting behind a read more cause i'm riled up with new rwby/whole loaf of rg bread zoomies and don't feel very coherent rn aha.

There is a post somewhere on this site that i can't find anymore which goes through all the BB/RG parallels (a shorter copy of it exists here on twitter) and that list since v9 just keeps getting longer.

Like... Sorry, Blake's biggest fear in v3 was that her past would come back and hurt those she loves. She is proven right to fear that when Adam shows up and attacks Yang and then because she can't handle that guilt, Blake runs away??

Vs.

Ruby, being terrified that if she carries on the path she's headed down, more of her friends will die. And Neo uses Oscar (and Little, who strongly parallels him) to prove Ruby's fears right which also leads her to 'running away'? Because the thought of hurting him, of losing him is just something Ruby can't bare????

Bro.

The ship parallels themselves are so specific and are absolutely worth mentioning, but RG itself stands so strongly even on it's own. The narrative orbits and constant, consistent emphasis on how much Ruby and Oscar care about each other is deafening at this point.

Just about everyone in the main cast has gone through huge portions of their character arcs in the previous eight volumes. Except for our protagonist... until now.

The scene we get in v9e8 where Neo uses Oscar as the last nail in Ruby's coffin ties him directly to her fatal flaw. They could have used anyone else. It could have been Yang. It could have been Qrow. It could have been her team partner Weiss. It could have been Blake, someone that's admitted to looking up to her. It could have been Penny a third time.

But. It. Wasn't.

It was Oscar.

Oscar, who was the first illusion Ruby saw when falling. Oscar, who is the only person she's close to that she didn't get to properly reunite with in v8. Oscar, who's absence in the Ever After has been SO STRONG to anyone that's paid attention to their dynamic up until now.

Ruby's fatal flaw is her grief, and by extension, loneliness and guilt. Ruby has shouldered all of this weight for so long alone and every volume up until now shows us that there is one person that made her feel like she was actually on equal footing for once. Maybe not completely alone. That she had someone looking out for her as much as she looked out for them. Oscar. And when Neo, the illusionist, uses Oscar's death against Ruby? That is her first of two breaking points.

I'm sorry - and i gotta emphasize this isn't directed at you so much as a general declaration - but at this point any anti, meaner, or non-believer that tries to tell me there is not very clear evidence in show pointing to RG needs to stop telling me to take off shipping glasses and has to just put like... normal reading glasses on lskd;jlfks

It is just... undeniable to me at this point. Despite still hearing people refer to them as siblings when it's like... if they wanted to emphasize the sibling bond, YANG WAS RIGHT FREAKING THERE!!

If Ruby is getting a love interest in show (cough cough she already has one) there is literally NO ONE else that fits the bill. They wouldn't introduce someone new this late in the game, and of the rest of the remaining cast, she has not been shown as close to any of them in the ways that tie to her character arc as strongly as this one does.

Ruby is the protagonist, Oscar is the deuteragonist. The core of this story orbits around both of them as the the chosen warrior destined to defeat Salem and barer of Oz's curse, respectively. Their individual character arcs also tie to and parallel each other's consistently: Oscar, who is trying so hard to hold onto his identity despite the merge vs Ruby who has spent this entire volume trying to push hers away.

Yes, all other Ruby ships are valid, don't get me wrong. But from a canon, narrative perspective, Rosegarden is the only one that is being pushed this aggressively.

And I can't be convinced otherwise at this point 🤡

#asks #ask #anon #anono #rosegarden #hope this makes sense and wasn't too... aggressive?? #like i said i have the zoomies #rwby

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober* Day 14: “I’ll be right behind you”

*I tried. I really did. I just hit “The Powers That Were Trying His Nerves” and couldn’t take myself seriously anymore.

@blaiddraws, someday I’ll write something for one of your AUs that’s not ridiculous fluff, but alas, today is for Worm Shenanigans.

---

There were certain inevitabilities in life.

The commuter who only just made his train to Humilau every morning, the annual Nimbasa blackout as Elesa’s ambition tripped the power grid, the departure and return of Casteliacones-- all of these events were guaranteed to happen, though the time frames varied between them.

Another constant was this: Ingo picked a direction and Emmet followed him.

It sounded odd, imbalanced even, but it really wasn’t. Ingo was too fair-minded to chart an inequitable path, and Emmet had no compunctions about raising an objection if need be. If anything, it was a game of give and take, of compromises. It was a substantial part of how they had ended up running the Battle Subway.

There was exactly one place Ingo had ventured where Emmet had been unable to join him, but, as always, he’d split the difference. While Emmet still wished he’d been able to accompany his brother on the unplanned commute to Hisui, the fact that it had been a round trip lessened the sting.

It was a strange homecoming, but not a bad one. There was a lot that had to change to accommodate their new lives, and a lot to adjust to or reacquaint oneself with; that was just the nature of things when you or a loved one was reincarnated as a soul-powered train. For every weird or uncomfortable new quirk, there were ways to alleviate that burden or find the fun in it, and there were plenty of perks mixed in. It was life-- just a new spin on it.

From the day he’d figured out who, precisely, was haunting the subway tunnels, Emmet had set his course.

As always, he followed his twin’s lead. It just took a little longer this time.

That was a nice way of saying that, when he passed, he turned right back around and demanded to become a second Frightrail. He knew the drawbacks; he’d been right there to witness them for years on end. While he might not relish the idea of drawing sustenance from others’ life force, he’d come to terms with that reality. Having a completely different body type would be a learning experience, but was it so much worse than moving on without his brother? No.

When it came down to it, that was the answer to every tricky question. He could endure it. They could endure it as a--

...could they be a two car train if they were both trains? Did one’s existence as a literal train preclude their ability to be a metaphorical car?

The Powers That Were Trying His Nerves stared for a long moment, processing, and then decided to wash Its hooves of him. Or at least, he assumed that was what happened. Something had to have occurred, because he blinked and then everything looked wrong.

Well, maybe not wrong, but weird. Even before reaching up to scrub at the rounded snout changing his field of vision, Emmet understood why that was-- again, he’d put years of thought into this, even if he’d made his decision all but immediately-- it was just… a lot at once. At least he had the luxury of knowing what he’d been getting himself into. Having an older sibling was convenient like that.

Speaking of.

He stopped pawing at his steel-smooth nose and looked around. Seemed Arceus had seen fit to plonk him in the park across from the station. Truthfully, Emmet hadn’t expected anything in particular, so this destination made as much sense as anything else. While it would have lived up the classic image of a ghost to rise where he’d died, he really didn’t need that kind of drama in his afterlife; he’d passed at home, and, logically, that space belonged to someone else now.

...he should go haunt the tunnels, just to see how Ingo liked playing worm wrangler.

Emmet made to push himself upright, but only made it so far as the first set of arms, lacking any of the tertiary pairs that studded each segment of plating. Right, they stayed dormant by default, didn’t they? He knew the sections of his body could slide apart to bring them out, but how exactly did one go about doing that…?

Maybe he should have asked some more pointed questions when he’d had the opportunity.

Eventually, he gave up on the ghost limbs, but with some trial and error, managed to wriggle himself into the air, and that would do for now. He stayed lower to the ground than strictly necessary for a host of reasons, ranging from ‘less noticeable’ to ‘not as far to fall’ to ‘feels more train-like’.

He was well aware that there wouldn’t be anyone at Gear Station so early in the morning-- not since Jackie had retired-- but it was home station for a reason, perhaps now more than ever. Even if he couldn’t make the staff understand what he wanted, all he had to do was wait around and he’d get it.

It wound up somewhat easier than he’d expected; even with the late hour, the station master’s office was occupied.

Blatantly ignoring the yellowed sign asking that patrons ‘not tap the glass, because the station master was sleeping’, he nosed it open and barged right in. Then Emmet did something that, were he alive, would have gone against the very fabric of his moral code: he deliberately caused a collision of trains.

With a sleepy hiss, his victim cracked an eye open, then chuffed a yawn.

“How long has it been?” He asked, nudging insistently at his brother’s face, “Do not tell me you were asleep all this time.”

“’All this time’? I can make assumptions, too, you realize. You’ve been here… hm… seven minutes, and you’re already jumping to conclusions.” Ingo rumbled, amused. His voice was raspy with disuse, and he didn’t even bother opening his other eye. Combined, it told Emmet that yes, he’d been asleep for awhile.

Magnanimously, he decided to ignore the comment, “You taunted me for days, before. And this time you decided to take a nap?”

His twin finally resigned himself to consciousness and ducked under Emmet’s head, giving himself room to stretch the first set of arms. “I’ve told you, the circumstances were nerve-wracking; it only turned into a game because that was the track you chose.”

Emmet grumbled his malcontent, and, to his surprise, it echoed in his throat. Before he had the chance to fully process that fact, Ingo raised his head, bumping against his.

“I assisted for a time, but it wasn’t fun in your absence. This seemed the easiest solution.”

Oh, it was a matter of fun was it? He could work with that. Eyes darting this way and that, he picked a quarry and escape route. When Ingo seemed distracted untangling himself, Emmet lunged forward and gave the tip of his tail a yank before scurrying off toward platform 3.

There was a bark of outrage that quickly condensed into:

“Your form is terrible!”

A delighted whistle escaped him and, without turning back, he called:

“Then you had better come correct me!”

The air displaced behind him, a secondary presence emerging from the slipstream he’d carved. There was a tug on his tail just before Ingo pulled up to his side.

“Honestly,” He huffed, nudging at Emmet’s spectral arm, “You studied aerodynamics; you should be aware of how inefficient this is.”

The plating slid shut at the contact and, unbalanced by his arms’ sudden exit, Emmet wobbled in the air. As he sped up, Ingo pressed their sides together, steadying him until he was the one leading, purposefully cutting a path through the air for Emmet to follow.

Well that just proved it: two cars to a train, irregardless of the number of sub-trains within.

Some things simply did not change.

#ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #submas #fanfic #whumptober

[originemesis]

@tempteve / @kugel-bitch from xxx

As the phrase ' ripping a new one' hung in the air, it seemed Eve was poised to do just that.

" Don’t — ! "

Her sudden movement conveyed a readiness to confront all in the name of defending the sanctity of Eden. It was more than a place to her; it was her origin, her love, her loss — her entire being intertwined with its existence. Despite the pain it had caused, Eden remained the one constant in her tumultuous existence, a tether to a past she couldn't bear to relinquish. Yet, even as she clung to its memory, a whisper from within echoed:

You need to let go.

" Jesus fucking Christ ! " Her reaction was immediate, instinctual, as she rushed to steady him, startled by the sudden outburst of pain. Was she exacerbating his agony without realizing it ? Or had her own inner turmoil clouded her perception ? In her moment of coming to his aid she failed to realise the positioning of her hand. Gaze drifts to see fingers almost intertwined over his scar. Hastily she pulls back.

“ J-just stay there. Don’t try and get up. ”

His bitterness, his frustration — it was all too familiar, a reflection of the turmoil that churned within her own self. Even as his anger flared, she couldn't help but understand where it came from. They had both been cast aside by the very place that was supposed to be their home, left to fend for themselves in a world that had turned its back on them.

But his words stung nonetheless.

“ Yeah, that’s kinda my thing, I’m afraid. ”

It was an acknowledgment of the rift that had formed between them, but she was starting to believe it to be true. The rose was gone, were thorns all that was left behind ? she had clung onto a version of the garden in her mind for so long that she began to lose herself in the process. Much like the state of Eden now, she too, had begun to wilt. Only she failed to recognize the damage already caused.

Eve runs a hand through tangled locks, letting out a heavy sigh.

“ I don’t want to start a fight, believe it or not. ”

@kugel-bitch

While all of this is going down one bemused lieutenant has perched in the window through which she had departed from the apartment earlier that morning. Like watching two animals of different species just barely managing to coexist in a too small enclosure, it all looks...a little bit unnatural, the way that they engage with one another—so much more strained than she had imagined, for creatures who were, in very literal terms, cut from the same cloth...flesh...clay? Whatever. The chemistry which she assumed would be there simply is nowhere to be seen.

Adam's mounting upset eventually puts her on such an edge that she cannot idle by any longer, but Eve swooping in to provide her aid stops her short in slinking over to wrangle him back into the nest where she'd made it very clear he was supposed to stay put. A not very happy sounding noise reverberates in the space between her nose and her throat in direct response to the display. It's not that she is distrustful of Eve and her intentions but he is vulnerable right now and she cannot help but be a touch territorial in turn. "Well...isn't this touching. I wasn't made aware that there would be a family reunion taking place today—I would've picked something up for you on the way, Eve." Cocking a hip, she idly swirls the ice around in her matcha lemonade, wing unfurling in front of Adam to set itself up as a makeshift barrier between him and the first woman, out of concern for his comfort more than anything else. She knows all too well how he abhors to be exposed.

It was beyond a nuisance having her show up like this-...well, having her show up in the state she was in since it always seemed to end poorly for him in the past- seeing her pain and doing all that he could to smooth it down just so he'd be able to relax. Regardless of her current mood being directly tied to his actions in the first place, he'd been used to their own balancing act out of Eden that required one to lean in to the other during times when their shared structure of a symbiotic relationship threatened to collapse and take the other with them. She had always been a lot more...charged in the emotional sense as if most of what dripped out of a bleeding heart had been awarded to her along with his rib like some unseen contract that determined she'd give him every benefit of the doubt and find any excuse not to walk away from him so that the hollow frame of his own emotions that relied on a companion's stalwart nature wouldn't crumble so long as he stood by her as the support beam to her worries of the world crashing in all around them. While he did hate to see it when chicks messed their pretty faces up with tears, it was one of many deep and swallowed apple seeds that reminded him the physical pain in his side would act up following her tears like an old wound that grew sore with the promise of rain.

"I bet somebody thought this would be a cute way to keep souls together...and they can frankly fuck themselves over it." He was huffing, hardly noticing her scramble until the familiar sting of having her pressed in close to his flank to help steady him from his own hasty decisions caused Adam to cock his head to the side and linger in the strange sensation of a past lived out yet not fully shaken in the molt known as death. Her nearly brushing the leathery tear in his side didn't exactly help the spasms, but they were on steady decline as she stepped back and reminded him he was laid bare under her judgement. Figuring a wince was worth the sad stretch of an attempt at dressing himself with a few feathers fanned to hide from naval to knee, he shot her a weary look under the glow of his halo.

"Least you got some sense, y'know- for a chick. Considering I'd win. " He added with a teasing twitch of a smirk, his talons digging into the wall plaster that was well past patchy from he and Lute's booming band sessions that oft caused pieces of the ceiling to pop off. Speaking of...or rather, rumbling- the unmistakable reverberations of Lute's watchful hiss from the window caused the first man's shoulders to slump forward ever so slightly. Aw hell- how long had she been there for? Well, not that it mattered since he was stood up and in clear violation of her 'ground' rules.

With a sheepish shift, he issued his own set of deeper warbles in her direction as a pre-emptive apology he likely wouldn't make aloud and certainly not in front of Eve, though the hint of affection was clear in the nervous titter. "Hey, babe- uh...we've got company?" He's cut off for a moment when her wing cracks out to help shield the rest of his humanity's shame from view, the beat of the action helping knock his slow attempt at sliding back down undetected instantaneous, emitting a soft 'hup' as he's dropped back into the mess of her nesting venture.

"...the unexpected kind." He added once settled and nursing at the taro milk bubble tea with extra whipped cream on top that she'd brought him and added to the selection of nest snacks.

#//manchild has his bottle while the girls r chatting #kugel-bitch #tempteve #long post #suggestive cw

[inflamearc]

initially when i started writing laura, my main course of action was Get Her Out Of Twin Pea/ks --- because at the time neither i nor dana NOR syd could really see a way for her to be home AND safe AND [reasonably] happy. i knew she'd be homesick forever but i just did not trust anyone with her at that time. she was faking her death and dana's audrey and syd's coop were gonna be the only people who knew. i still like a lot of the writing we did then, and i still value the dynamics fostered during that period, but the longer i write her, the more i know laura doesn't truly work anywhere else: not because it's all she's ever known, or because her mom is there, but just because for better and for worse, the town is so much a part of her And She Loves It So Much.

sure, she fantasizes about leaving in her diary sometimes --- one, that's just how growing up in a small town is, and two, she's got a lot of immediate danger to run away from --- and i do want her to get out, travel, Experience Life, See Things, but i know she'd always want to come home. she likes being a big fish in a small pond. she likes that everybody knows her and that she knows everybody. she likes the routine in always knowing where she's going to eat and shop and party. she likes that she knows where everybody's at, even the elderly mostly-strangers on her meals on wheels route.

she doesn't like being out of control of what people know about her --- that's always been an issue (obviously) --- but the thing about laura that you should understand, that i should have understood much earlier, is that she won't back down from a fight, ever (i do not mean physically, okay; physically she's going to talk shit and get hit, but METAPHORICALLY,).

(we're going to cut this because 1. it's already long and 2. i'm about to get to the part that you may or may not want to opt out of, i.e. the aftermath of fire wal/k with m/e --- nothing graphic, ever, but frankness is my only real way, so.)

like, yeah, it's going to be fucking awful. the news will be tactful --- as it probably was in canon, officially, with her dead --- but everybody's still going to know. and beyond the news, there's the rumor mill, and while it's not like anyone has All The Answers, what they're dealing with is "local man commits suicide in police custody following the rape and attempted murder of his daughter", so it's safe to assume there are going to be a lot of solid guesses. and she's still going to be processing the events themselves and having just admitted to herself that her dad ever was her [primary] abuser to begin with. and then dana and i are letting audrey out ben as the other and he's going to die, too :-) which is great news, but is also yet another Thing To Whisper About :-)

but laura is a proud, proud little person. she is also a very spiteful little person. she'd appreciate it if you'd just [daxna vc] be normal, or at least upfront, but she's not her mother: she pays attention, and if you make her feel weird about continuing to Exist In Society, she's going to call you out. if she feels like you've got something to say to her but you're Being Polite, she might say it for you. it would not be accurate to say she doesn't care: she cares a lot! she hates the thought of not being accepted! it's something she's always struggled with! she will probably cry about it! but not until she's alone and has embarrassed you so incredibly badly that you will, hopefully, consider becoming a hermit yourself. this is her non-city. her home. she's not going to be humbled and she's not going to transform into someone new because of what's supposedly been taken from her. she is incapable of making herself small.

she's a lot to deal with. she's always been a lot to deal with. knowing What She's Been Through (or thinking that you do) might give you some context to better understand her, if you know her, but it's not going to change much, unless you end up in one of the prior camps. without the constant threat of danger, she's bound to be less volatile, and if you react to The News in a way that's encouraging and not patronizing, she is bound to handle you with more tenderness, but otherwise she's largely just ... laura. she is miserable, she's ecstatic, she's full of love and righteous anger, she's stubborn, she's brash, she's sullen, she's kind, she's unfortunately never recovered from being the weird horse girl in your fourth grade class and it has never once even occurred to her that she would be made fun of like this.

she is so annoying. and she is also the best girl in the world. and also, i wish i didn't feel i have to say most of these things? it's not because i assume You, The Mutual don't intuit them: if i felt that way about you, you wouldn't be here. but i also know, incredibly well, that if i don't state my intentions very clearly regarding arcs, they might get muddled and they might be misunderstood. i do not like angst for angst's sake. i am not here to make myself sad. i am here to do justice to laura, which means dealing with a lot of misery, but my end goal will always be to let her live her life without shame and with, well, i guess a manageable amount of fear. i would like for her to be defined by and remembered for the person she actually is, or was, or whatever the fuck.

#rape m // #ask to tag. #incest m // #study.

[hoagmaster]

Truly New Horizons

We made it, folks. The end of 2023 is upon us. We have a new year upon us, a year that ideally will be full of new opportunities and new possibilities. A year where we can learn new things about ourselves and become better versions of ourselves.

Well, it's also an election year, so any hesitation or mounting dread is definitely understandable.

But as I think what may come next year, I realized a while back that a couple of constants from the past several years will no longer be there. The slate will be much cleaner than it has been in years past without these known quantities coming at some point.

In terms of shows I've followed, both Hilda and The Owl House ended this year to varying results (for me). I went on a while ago about how the former spurred me to watch more animation to see what I've been missing, which has mostly worked out. The latter is one of several shows I've warmed up with and have come to really appreciate from the past couple years.

We might possibly be coming down to the end of The Ghost and Molly McGee, which is another one I've come to really enjoy. Fans will surely keep these alive through fan art and writings, but their absence will be noted.

There was just one movie I was really following since we got the first snippets from years back, being my favorite of the year (shocking no one who knows me) The Super Mario Bros. Movie. You'd think they would have immediately told us about making another one but there is reportedly nothing yet.

Then there was also Nimona, a movie whose previous cancellation made everyone sad but then everyone happy when it turned out to be probably the comeback story of the year alongside Elemental (for me, anyway). I've really fallen off movie watching the past few years, so maybe I can get that back on track next year.

The biggest one: video games! The Mario Kart 8 Deluxe Booster Course Pass is over. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom dropped nearly four years after it was first announced. Pikmin 4 dropped after years of wondering whether it actually exists. We got the first 2D Mario in over a decade.

The only MIA from the past six or so years is Metroid Prime 4, which we're all assuming now is being saved for the next system. Aside from a couple of remasters and smaller scale games, it really feels like we're coming up on the end of the Switch's life. That's sure to be another bittersweet day where I'll probably spew a few paragraphs.

There are still several constants. My main show Big City Greens is still chugging along with most of its fourth season yet to air. I've gotten into recent fare like Kiff, Hamster & Gretel, Hailey's On It!, and have shows like the other half of Invincible and the much anticipated season two of Arcane on tap.

I'm sure to play all those Switch games like the remaster of Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door and Princess Peach: Showtime!. And sure, some of the other new things could provide some good times. I guess having become a fan of the series or something this year means I'll check out Persona 3 Reload. Maybe keeping some kind of blind eye to news feeds and being surprised by some new stuff is not a bad way to do things.

But maybe the biggest constant of all will be the company I keep. Sharing my experience with Persona 5 Royal with someone was perhaps the most exciting thing I did all year. I've begun to participate a bit more in some areas because maybe it could pay off with new connections. Then while nothing is set yet, I'd like to think it's a strong possibility that going to visit someone may be in the cards...

I've shared a bit of myself every day since July with my daily reports, and I'm happy to say those will not be going anywhere. It's interesting to look back at them months later and see what I was doing and wonder how I've changed since then. Another year of doing those is sure to provide more enriching opportunities and guide me with anything I want to do.

Thank you all for reading this year. Here's to 2024!

#cody writes stuff

[alessabriel]

Moments like those were unique with characters from tokyo revengers.

I'm really loving the Tokyo Revengers manga and I couldn't help but write about some characters, when I go later in the manga I will write about even more characters and I hoped to get it right. Take good care of yourselves, drink water and eat well, it is important to.

Anyway Byebye ✨

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

➡️Draken | Ken Ryuuguuji

The sun filtered through the window with lilac curtains giving the room a slight glow illuminating the scene within it; a tall young man with blond hair sat on the floor on the black carpet with a noticeably smaller girl behind him.

There was no one else with whom he could let his guard down like this.

Draken despite the cold shower, knowing that he has rested well and that he should not be sleepy, your soft hands combing him make him drowsy, lethargic and with heavy eyelids, he could hardly see your reflection in the mirror in front of him. He, concentrated on his braid and there was nothing better in the world than you being so close that he could feel your warmth, your soft caresses.

With care and gentleness you manage each blonde strand between your fingers, intertwining little by little. You did not see the mirror, they only saw blonde locks that slipped between your fingers, he had beautiful and well-groomed hair. Almost finalizing the braid was when you directed your gaze towards the mirror in front of you; Draken seemed to be nowhere near falling asleep again from the way he nodded slightly.

"Are you sleepy Ryu?"

A denial was the answer clearly but you only laughed at the obviousness of his lie, he was so cute when he was so helpless and vulnerable with you. They were unique moments and by how he snuggled between your legs he said that he only wanted to spend a few more minutes like that, together.

In the morning when even their paths did not separate, Ken Ryuuguuji could allow himself moments of vulnerability where you would cradle him carefully, smiling at all times and he did not need to have his eyes open to know that your face only showed love, he had already gone through a long stage of doubts, denial and self-inflicted pain that knowing who you are, his partner, that you are by his side and that you do not have any doubt in loving him as he is, with everything included only makes him feel more secure. Draken didn't doubt his love for you, he never could.

"I just want to stay like this for a few minutes"

"All you wish Ryuu"

The "I love you" were in the air and were received by both, they knew that love was mutual ...

━━━━

➡️Mikey | Sano Manjiro.

The days you left school were naturally late thanks to the extra classes, the club, and other activities. It was normal to walk through the hallways of the school meeting only a few students from grades above who gave tired greetings, it must be difficult to be anywhere from leaving you assumed.

The silence was comforting as something cold.

Once with your outdoor shoes on, you left school seeing how your boyfriend was on his motorcycle with his cell phone in hand distracted, a clumsy idea emerged from the depths of your head and you executed it without thinking twice; you covered his eyes with your hands feeling the seconds how his hands touched yours, it was difficult to hold the laughter.

Mikey only limited himself to smiling without you seeing him, from the moment he felt your warm presence he knew it was you and only as confirmation the sweet aroma of your perfume invaded the air making it comforting, you were warmth, affection and home. You were so smiling, sweet, attentive and funny that sometimes he thought how you had noticed him.

As if you had a detector for his pessimism, you kissed your boyfriend on the cheek when you discovered his eyes showing your remarkable pout openly.

"You are bad guessing love" you accused fun catching your partner's face in your hands, you held between your little hands a mysterious, beautiful and so enigmatic world called Sano Manjiro "It will be that I am very good and I take you by surprise. What if? "

Mikey could only smile and let himself be carried away by your beautiful voice, you seemed to have a sixth sense for when he was just getting into negative thoughts about his relationship and he felt grateful for it, you were so special and irreplaceable.

"Aha, of course" accepted the blond amused, receiving another kiss with pleasure but this time on the lips. Mikey loved the feel of your smooth lips against his own, he could taste the taste of your gloss directly from your lips and it was the best feeling in the universe. "Come on I'll take you home."

The words died from the moment you got on the motorcycle behind your boyfriend, clinging with both arms to his waist and hiding your face from the wind that you knew would impact on your face that you still did not get used to. The soft roar of the motorcycle lulled you, the aroma of fabric softener, sun and sweets coming from your boyfriend only made you feel even more comfortable that it was inevitable not to rub your cheeks against his back, love overflowed from your heart .

"I love you Manji" you whispered softly, without the intention of making you listen but because of a red light one of Mikey's hands was caressing yours, you knew that he had heard you.

"I love you even more S / o-chan"

The green light on the traffic light sealed the rest of the trip in a pleasant and sweet silence, where they knew they were safe.

━━━━

➡️Hanagaki Takemichi

It was late when they finally managed to get out of the game room, both laughing at monumental losses in silly games but with a more than happy smile on their lips. Takemichi couldn't help but smile and feel the constant pounding on his chest as your fingers were intertwined with his own, it felt good.

"I had a lot of fun today Michi" you said once you were both waiting for the train at the station, your gaze fixed to the front and then looking at your side hoping to find him looking elsewhere but you met his unmistakable bright eyes that made you blush "We should go out like this more often, I say if you don't have more meetings with Touman "

"I think the same! We won't have any meetings at the moment so you will put up with me longer, ”Takemichi joked laughing.

"I like spending time with Takemichi-kun so it wouldn't be to put up with it, it would be spending quality time with my boyfriend"

You refuted by giggling when you heard that he was choking on his own saliva, so you let go of his hand to gently hit his back helping him out of his stupor. Takemichi could only try to stop coughing and when he did he felt you closer, one of your arms behind his back surrounding him and how you leaned against his. It was instinct and perhaps the feelings of him speaking for him since he left a kiss on your head, he could smell the fruity aroma of your shampoo and the unmistakable essence of your perfume.

Little did you know that your Takemichi could only think of a way to save you, never to lose your smile and treasure each new memory.

You were his first and only love ...

━━━━

➡️Atsushi Sendo | Akkun

The journey from his school to your school was about half an hour, but it was worth every tiny second for Atsushi who, like every Friday, had separated from his other friends to pass by you. Even though they had been going out as boyfriends for more than two and a half years, he still felt the nerves all over his body and the butterflies flying in his stomach that multiplied when he saw him leave the main doors laughing at something that your friends said, you looked beautiful with the glow of the sunset making you the center of their world. It was ridiculous how just by seeing you could make him fall in love more. Trying to regulate his nerves I wait for you when he saw you say goodbye to your friends and jog the rest of the way towards him. Was it even allowed to look this good and attractive in a school uniform? He did not know.

"Did you take too long Atsu?" you questioned your boyfriend smiling.

The other people ceased to exist the moment you approached him, the moment he could see your bright eyes and catch the sweet aroma of your perfume in the air.

"Not at all I just arrived a few minutes ago, how was school?"

With a remarkable pout you started with your remarkable anecdote of this day without even knowing that Atsushi was looking at you as if you were hanging the sun, the moon and the stars in the sky. Akkun only listened and commented from time to time, until it was his turn to tell about his day at school. Neither of them noticed when their hands clasped, it was natural.

━━━━

➡️Tachibana Hinata

The dark sky above their heads only gave more seriousness and intimacy at the moment, with her nerves on the surface Hinata could only see how the wind moved your hair and carried in it, the scent of your shampoo or perhaps your perfume. perfume that I gave you on your birthday a year ago?

"The moon is beautiful tonight" you said to the air.

Hinata did not take long to detect the message behind your prayer, endless nights watching k-dramas, anime and watching movies xianxia by your side made her understand the references, she loved how you expressed yourself so casually by dropping messages of your unconditional love.

"If the moon is beautiful S / o"

When Hinata thought that silence would fill the air, your voice was heard again but this time in front of her. Hinata could only swallow hard to see you standing in front of her, so she could see the difference in heights between the two and how the elegant beauty accentuated your being, you were so pretty and attractive that it could not cross her mind that you corresponded her feelings but there they were; in the park late at night on a romantic getaway that consisted of a motorcycle ride and talking in a park where they had confessed.

"But I can't help but think that I'm lucky to be able to call you my girlfriend Nat."

"It is not worth it! You always know what to say and you leave me like a fool in love looking at you. You're unfair S / o-chan! "

Before her words continued Hinata felt your lips brush against hers, your kisses were so soft and gentle that she felt so fragile in your arms, so loved and desired.

"I love you so much Nat"

The kisses continued gentle, soft and in order to communicate love, one more memory that the couple would engrave in her memory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

✨ Here is the end, comments are welcome and if not has in the same way thanks ✨

💕

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #draken x reader #Akkun x reader #Takemichi hanagaki x reader #Hinata tachibana x reader #Scenarios #Flulff #To rev #Tv #Tokyo revengers x s/o #Tokyo revengers x y/n

[applepiewinchesters]

Don’t Take Him (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Word Count: 2,074

The car couldn’t possibly go any faster as you raced down the practically deserted street. What used to be one of the main roads into the city of Sokovia had become somewhat overgrown and cracked since it’s downfall.

You remembered when it happened. The disaster was on the news for weeks, the huge hole left where the city was, destroyed remnants of the city only further destroyed during the search for survivors, or bodies. The death toll grew every day, it was truly a devastating loss.

With the only surviving royal, Helmut Zemo, thrown into prison, the country was practically demolished and wiped off the map. A lake replaced what was remaining of the city, and a monument was built to memorialize those that had died.

Helmut Zemo was the whole reason you were driving well over the speed limit down a not so safe road.

You hadn’t expected to like him when you first met. You were working at the prison, bringing those in solitary confinement their meals.

He grew on you though, he was smart, funny, and could talk about almost every topic under the sun. You felt for him, you really did, losing his family in the Battle of Sokovia the way he did.

Sure, he may have killed the King of Wakanda and practically became the reason the Avengers nearly disbanded, but he wasn’t a horrible human being, he wasn’t evil. All Zemo had wanted was for someone to be blamed for what happened to his family.

As the years went on you fell for him and he reciprocated the feeling. You told him you’d wait for him, even after getting a new job away from the prison.

What you never expected though was for him to show up at the front door of your apartment, with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson no less, to whisk you away to help him and the other two find out who was making super soldiers and to stop the Flag Smashers.

You were thrilled obviously, he was here, right in front of you, no glass, no cameras watching, but there was a constant nagging in your mind, a nauseous feeling in your stomach that there was no way that this would last.

When the Dora Milaje showed up in Latvia to take him back to prison, that feeling was proven to not just be a “what if”, but more of a constant dread in the pit of your stomach. Neither of you really discussed it, just tried to spend as much time together as possible.

That was of course proven difficult with the Flag Smashers and John Walker getting in the way of everything.

Sam and Bucky of course were no help, they didn’t trust Zemo one bit, which you could understand, but it seemed no one was on your side. The two men even questioned you on how you could be with him.

You tried to explain that even though he had made past mistakes you didn’t think that defined him as a person, and you felt as though you both found each other at the right time. Of course, they both thought that was bullshit.

Everything seemed to be going alright until the Dora Milaje declared Zemo had run out of time and came to collect him. During a whirlwind fight between John, Sam, and Bucky though, the Baron disappeared, apparently escaping through the sewage hole in the bathroom of his home you were staying in in Latvia.

John Walker then brutally killed one of the Flag Smashers in front of maybe fifty people, so after he, Bucky, and Sam all left Latvia, you decided there was only one place Zemo would be.

That was more than 15 hours ago, you’d been driving all night, and your GPS was having a hard time trying to locate a city that no longer existed which only fed your frustration. Although you were beyond pissed he’d left you alone, you had to get him back.

Currently according to the GPS, the memorial was only five minutes out and apparently if you headed straight through the woods to your right you would find it. So, pulling over you jumped out of the car, sprinting into the trees.

You were breathing hard, running faster and faster, fueled only by adrenaline as you were exhausted from driving all night.

You were silently begging that he’d there, that it wouldn’t be too late.

Breaking through the trees you startled the two men standing at the memorial. Bucky was there, pointing a gun at Zemo’s head, and Zemo stood there, calm as can be.

“Don’t!” you shouted running over and putting yourself between the gun and the man you loved.

“Y/N, move,” Bucky told you, face stoic, hand steady as he aimed the gun.

“No,” you said, standing your ground, fists clenched as you tried your best to keep the tears at bay.

You felt hands on your waist as you were gently moved to the side, “It’s alright, angel,” Zemo’s voice came from behind you, “Move aside.”

Turning around, you mentally cursed yourself as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, “I am not going to stand here and let him shoot you,” you said sternly.

Zemo remained calm, giving you a small, sad smile. He took your face in his hands, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Please, let me go sweetheart,” he told you, placing his forehead against yours.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. Your grip was tight, you were holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the Earth.

The familiar scent of his cologne was comforting but only made your heart break further. You were fully crying now, your breath catching in your throat as Zemo’s arms circled around you.

“You’ll find someone else, someone better for you, I promise,” Zemo spoke to you softly. He placed a few kisses on your head, breathing you in for a moment before taking your arms from around him. He was no super soldier but from years of training in the army and special forces, he was strong.

With a push from Zemo you were sent stumbling backwards, Bucky grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you behind him.

“No, NO!” you screamed as Bucky raised the gun again.

“Go ahead,” Zemo told Bucky, giving you one last look before Bucky pulled the trigger.

It took both you and Zemo a moment to realize nothing had happened. Bucky held out his opposite hand, opening it to show the bullets and casings in his hand as he dropped them to ground.

Zemo nodded, accepting that he was not going to die, he was in for something much worse.

“He’s all yours!” Bucky called, looking over Zemo’s shoulder, it was then you noticed three of the Dora Milaje standing there, ready to take Zemo.

You moved from behind Bucky, “No, no please, please,” you begged, moving to grab Zemo again, hugging him tightly.

You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, your face was wet from all the tears, you probably looked like a mess.

“Y/N, let him go,” Bucky told you, trying to coax you away from the man.

“NO!” you shouted, pressing your face into Zemo’s chest this time as he hugged you again.

Zemo ran a hand through your hair, shushing you quietly, trying to comfort you in what was going to be your last few moments together for god knows how long.

“Please moya lyubov', I have to go now, we both knew this would not be forever,” Zemo told you, pulling you off him.

You couldn’t believe he was just accepting this; he was going to be put away for the rest of his life no doubt, somewhere more secure where you would never see him again.

You on the other hand were sobbing as you turned towards the Dora Milaje, “Please! I-I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything! Please! Just don’t take him again, please!” you begged.

The one you recognized as Ayo shook her head, “He must pay for his crimes, he knows what he’s done, let him go little girl.”

Zemo grabbed you, giving you a quick, soft kiss and you grabbed the front of his coat, gripping onto him tightly. Pulling away from the kiss Zemo took your hands in his, bringing each up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay safe angel, alright? Promise me,” Zemo told you, making sure you looked him in the eye.

You could only nod, gripping onto his coat again. “Use your words, promise me,” Zemo spoke.

“I-I promise,” you whimpered, your vision blurring from the tears as you shivered from a cold gust of wind.

Zemo shrugged off his coat, wrapping it around you, you smiled through the tears a bit. Even facing life in prison, he was still a gentleman.

You felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from Zemo. Practically clawing at him you tried to keep him near you, but Bucky was too strong as he held you back.

“James,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the super soldier. “Take care of her, will you?”

You assumed Bucky nodded or gave acknowledgment, because Zemo gave you one last sad smile, “Do not worry moya lyubov', we will see each other again.”

With that, he turned and followed the three warriors towards the jet waiting for them.

Ayo came over, telling Bucky something but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your own begging.

“No, no, no please! Please! I’ll do anything, don’t take him, please!” you were screaming after the three warriors and the man you loved. “Helmut please!”

None of them looked back as you continued to fight against Bucky, trying to escape his grasp to run after them, to do anything to keep them from taking Zemo away.

It was no use, and Bucky only let you go when the four were flying away in the Wakandan made jet.

You collapsed, the stones beneath you no doubt bruising your knees as you fell. Bucky didn’t try to comfort you as you sobbed, burying your face in your hands.

Zemo’s last words to you gave you no comfort as you cried until your throat was raw and you felt as though you were out of tears.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up, Bucky was kneeling in front of you, trying to comfort you now, “Come on kid, you can’t stay here,” he told you.

Silently nodding you took Bucky’s hand as he helped you up, “I’ll drive,” he told you, “I’m assuming you drove?” he asked.

Only nodding again, you gave Bucky the keys from your jeans pocket as you both made your way back into the trees towards the car. You shoved your arms through the too big coat Zemo had given you, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

Your heart felt as though it had shattered, you had just started to feel as though your life with Zemo had just started, and now it had all come crashing down.

You could only hope his words would ring true and you’d see him again.

***

It was weeks later when the shrill ringing of a phone that didn’t sound like yours broke the silence of your apartment.

You were laying on the couch, wallowing in self pity as you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The only solace you’d gotten was when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, had called you to tell you that you were welcome to stay in one of the Baron’s many houses worldwide, any expenses would be paid for by the Baron of course.

Oeznik also reassured you Zemo was doing fine, as fine as fine could be in a maximum-security prison.

Bucky called you as well, keeping his promise to Zemo, you ignored most of his calls though, he was the reason they took him away.

Getting off the couch, you searched for the source of the ringing, finally discovering it was Zemo’s coat you had thrown across the back of one of the kitchen table chairs, where it had sat since you’d put it there.

Rummaging through the pockets you found a phone, it looked older, one of those cheap track phones.

Hesitantly, you flipped it open, the ringing stopped before you spoke, “Hello? Who is this?”

"Printessa, it’s me.”

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing for Zemo and of course it had to be angst lol. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d want more Zemo! Thank you for reading! 

Russian Translations:

moya lyubov' - my love 

Printessa - Princess 

#helmut zemo #zemo #zemo fic #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #fatws #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #falcon and winter solider teaser #falcon and the winter soldier #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo #bucky barnes #sam wilson #john walker #fatws fic #zemo fanfic #zemo angst #bucky #captain america #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #captain america and the winter soldier #falcon #winter soldier #madripoor #sokovia

[writingblock101]

Still Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

This is a part two to Insufferable! I had an anon request this a while back and found some prompts that gave some great inspiration! Hope y’all like it! You don’t need to read part one, but it does make the transition smoother. For reference, you and Damian are 17. 

Words: 2,800 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Warnings: None

“Do you ever follow directions?” A familiar, condescending voice asks you from the ground. 

You spot an annoyed Damian Wayne from your upside perch, staring up at you with crossed arms. You grin, a little too excited to see someone who looks so annoyed with you. 

“I’m creating an extensive target practice!” You claim, gesturing with your bow to the targets down range

“By hanging upside from the rafters?” Damian raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“You’re questioning my methods.” 

“I’m not questioning it,” Damian corrects. “I’m saying it’s stupid.” 

You gasp in mock offense then unhook your legs and flip to the floor. 

“Your words wound me!” 

“You’ll recover,” Damian says dryly. 

“I thought you would approve of me making a more comprehensive training.”

“You were hanging upside down from the rafters. How is that more comprehensive?” Damian questions.

“Because I don’t always get the pretty shot with the perfect set up in the field!” You argue. “Sometimes, I’m making the shot while hanging upside down with a broken toe!” 

Damian pauses, his eyes flickering to your feet. 

“Is your toe broken?” He asks.

He almost sounds concerned. It’s kind of sweet. 

“No,” You admit. “But what if it was?” 

He blinks. The concern is gone. 

“You spend too much time with Roy and Jason.” 

“Well, Roy is basically raising me at this point, so yeah, kind of,” You point out. 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Mission briefing.” 

“Aw, you came all the way here to tell me yourself,” You tease Damian, aware of the various intercoms around the Tower.

He scowls at you, but doesn’t dampen your good mood. 

“I was the closest to the range. It made the most sense for me to come tell you.” 

“No need to make excuses,” You shrug. “I get it, I’m amazing and you can’t resist being around me.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“You know, that line didn’t fool me when we were 12 and it’s still not fooling me now.” 

Damian’s scowl deepens. 

“Mission briefing, now.” Then he walks off before you can make another smart ass comment. 

Sometimes, Damian makes it too easy. You hit the switch to pull the targets back in, figuring you’ll get your arrows later. 

You’ve been an official Teen Titan for a few months now. After Roy talked you into tagging along with the team for a mission, you were hooked. The rest of the team agreed to extend an invite to you, which you happily accepted. You love the team, including Damian. Despite your constant bickering, you and Damian work well together in the field, enhancing each other’s skills. 

In all honesty, you really enjoy being around Damian. While he’s a bit uptight, when he relaxes, he’s fun to be around. You’ve enjoyed getting to see the more relaxed side of Damian. Besides, it's fun to have someone who keeps up with every sarcastic remark you make, even if it includes him calling you insufferable. It’s a bit of a long shot, but you know Damian likes you more than he makes it seem he does. 

You head to the main conference room of the tower and settle in for a long presentation. While the briefings are long, and rather boring, they’re in depth. You have to give Damian credit, even when things go wrong on missions, his extensive briefings prepare your team for almost every possibility and help make adaptations to the plan on the fly. 

You fiddle with a pen, unscrewing it, laying out the pieces then put it back together as Damian talks. As you get more fidgety the longer the meeting goes on, Damian wordlessly slides a new pen over to you with a slightly different composition. You smile at him and busy your hands with taking part the new pen. Damian’s cheeks darken slightly, but before anyone can notice, he’s back in leader mode. 

Damian pulls up the blueprint, running through everyone’s role and position for the mission.

“And Black Falcon, you’re with me, handling guards on the roof and additional security measures.”

“The dream team,” You grin with a wink.

Damian rolls his eyes and ignores your remark. Instead, he fields any questions then dismisses the team. You glance down at the file briefing in front of you then remember one last question for Damian. As a few Titans clear out, you wander to the front of the room where Damian is studying the blueprint from the presentation. 

“Hey, boss man,” You wave your file at him. “This building is using the Kingsley Security system. What are your thoughts about debuting the new hacking arrows?” 

Damian frowns, flipping to the page with the schematics concerning the security system. 

“How effective is the firewall on the arrows?” 

“If you’re worried about them tracking back to us, the arrows’ firewall should be strong enough to erase our trail.” 

“Should be?” Damian raised an eyebrow. 

“They’ll be fine, but I don’t like to make guarantees.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because sometimes, shit happens.” 

“I don’t like variables.” 

“Well, Dames, I’ve got bad news for you about how life works.” 

You cross your arms, leaning your hip against the table. 

“I don’t like variables on my missions when lives are on the line,” Damian says, scanning over the Kingsley credentials. 

“We’re connected to a computer with the highest level of security to currently exist. Even if they manage to trace back the arrows, they won’t get far.” 

Jon and Colin watch you two bicker about arrows and security.

“He likes having someone to argue with way too much,” Colin mutters to Jon. 

Jon nods along. 

“You’re telling me. He’s not going to do anything about it though.” 

Colin cracks a grin. 

“He’s just gonna roll his eyes and tell her she’s insufferable.” 

Jon and Colin snicker, catching Damian’s attention. He narrows his eyes at the two who sit innocently. 

“Listen,” You bring Damian’s attention back to you. “It’s your mission and I’ll respect whatever you want to do, but the only way for me to improve the arrows design is to test them.” 

“I’ll consider it,” Damian says. 

His phone lights up with notification on the table. Your eyes dart toward the light and your eyebrows go up. Damian catches your eye and snatches his phone off the table with red cheeks.

“Am I your lock screen?” You ask with a small grin. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Damian shoves his phone in his back pocket. 

“Really?” Your grin grows as your eyebrows move higher. 

Jon and Colin watch with shit eating grins. 

“Grayson set it,” Damian growls. “I haven’t bothered to change it.” 

“Sure, he did,” You nod. “It’s a cute picture.” 

The picture is after Damian and Bruce got into a huge argument, bad enough that Damian called Dick to get him out of the Manor. Dick figured it would be a good day to give Damian a childhood experience he missed out on and decided to take Damian to a theme park. Knowing you were in town with Jason while Roy was handling some business in Gotham, he talked Jason into bringing you. While at the park, Dick insisted you and Damian needed to try a funnel cake since neither of you had ever had one. 

You and Damian decided to split one since Dick warned you they were pretty sweet. When you and Damian tried your first bites, Damian’s face instantly scrunched up which made you laugh and Dick managed to catch the moment on camera. 

Damian scowls at you while you just grin. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone and ruin your reputation,” You laugh, leaving the room. 

Damian scowls at you as you leave and returns his attention to collecting his files. 

“Ah Dames, get that look off your face, we all know how you feel,” Jon teases. 

Damian turns, scowling at Jon. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t,” Colin rolls his eyes. “We can all tell you like Y/N.” 

“She’s--”

“Insufferable,” Jon finishes. “Yeah, we know. You know, just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it’s actually true.” 

“And you know, we get it, you’re a condensing, uptight dick--” Colin starts to rattle off. 

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me?” Damian scowls at Colin. 

“It saves time,” He grins at his friend. “But, despite those things, you can be charming when you want to be. And if you actually acted on that charm, Y/N would agree to a date with you.” 

Jon stares at Colin for a minute, looking unimpressed then turns to Damian. 

“My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.” 

“I didn’t ask for advice,” Damian growls. 

“We are aware and we also are aware that you never will,” Colin nods. 

“Why not let yourself be happy, Dames?” Jon asks. 

“I am happy,” Damian glares at the two of them then walks out of the room, tired of hearing their advice. 

“Think he’ll listen?” Colin asks. 

Jon shrugs. 

“Who knows.” 

. . . 

Your back hits the ground but you roll to the balls of your feet, breathing hard. You tighten your grip on your bo staff, ready to lunge for another hit when you notice Damian walk into the training room. As he walks toward you, you straighten up and grab your water, figuring it’s time for a break. Damian raises his eyebrows at your bo staff. 

“That’s not your normal choice in weapons,” He observes. 

You shrug, taking a swing of water and ignoring your cheeks heating up. While you wanted to expand your training, you’ve seen Damian using a bo staff a lot. He seems to like them so you figured you’d give them a shot. Besides, Tim has given you a few pointers. 

“Decided to try something new,” You say casually. 

Damian quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing else. 

“I’ve been thinking--” He starts. 

“A dangerous pastime,” You nod solemnly. 

Damian glares at you but continues, as if he didn’t hear your sarcastic comment. 

“We have a strong enough firewall on the computer in the Tower that if your arrows malfunctioned, we could detect and fight a security breach.” 

“So, I can bring them on the mission?” You finish. 

“Yes.” 

“Sweet!” You grin, pumping your fist. 

Damian rolls his eyes again at your celebration, but you can see him trying not to smile. He turns to leave, but you look back at the bo staff you were training with. 

“Wait! Damian!” You call. 

He turns, looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

“You’re better with a bo staff than I am,” You admit. “Wanna help me out?” 

Damian’s eyes flicker between you and the bo staff. You see a small smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“I’ll change into something more suiting for training.” 

You grin, spinning the staff around you then go into a mock solute. 

“Yes, commander.” 

Damian rolls his eyes again, but leaves to change. 

. . . 

You swing your staff up hard, but Damian blocks it and swipes at your legs with a low kick. Grinning as he falls into the expected move, you flip your staff around and hit Damian’s side. He grunts and moves again, this time, landing a hard blow to your arm. You grimace at the force, but swing your staff around again and manage to knock Damian’s legs out from under him with a move he showed you. 

Damian hits the ground hard with a grunt, but instead of rolling to his feet for another hit, he lays on the ground, looking a little dazed. 

“I got it!” You cheered as Damian sits up, watching you with a small smile. 

“Drive your hips more so the power doesn’t come from your arms as much,” He instructs. 

“You know, with all the archery I do,” You flex a muscular arm. “I’m pretty sure my arms are stronger than my hips at this point.” 

Damian rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. You swear you sees his eyes lingering on your flexed arm. 

“Basic anatomy,” He claims. 

“Right, your definition of “basic” and a normal person’s is pretty different.” 

Damian raises an eyebrow at you. 

“How do you mean?” 

You narrow your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I don’t,” But the slow start of a shit eating grin on his face tells you Damian knows how you meant that statement. 

You groan, throwing your hands up. 

“Okay, fine, Wayne. I’ll give it to you, you’re pretty smart.” 

“Am I now?” Damian full on grins, making your heart flutter. 

You roll your eyes again, despite your raised heart rate. 

“I’m not going to say it again.” 

“I didn’t think you would. It doesn’t change the truth.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Why do I still like you, knowing you’re a total asshole?” You question as you walk toward your water. 

Damian freezes for a moment, your words slowly mulling over in his head. Before he can say anything else, his watch beeps. Damian looks down at it with a scowl.

“Duty calls?” You ask, handing Damian his water. 

He looks up from the notification and nods. 

“Get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”

. . . 

Following your normal post mission tradition, you relax on the roof with a few boxes of take out. You dig into your box of fried rice, enjoying the view as your legs dangle over the edge of the huge tower. The roof access door opens and someone sits next to you but you don’t have to turn to see who. Wordlessly, you hold out Damian’s vegetarian Lo Mein which you took the courtesy to grab while he showered after the mission. 

“Your arrows worked,” Damian comments, accepting the box from you and digging in with his own chopsticks. 

“Mmhm,” You hum with a smirk. “Told you.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you wouldn’t be able to resist making a childish remark.” 

You grin, nudging Damian’s shoulder. 

“You knew I already knew the arrows worked. You just wanted to hear me say it.” 

“I absolutely did not.” 

“Sure you didn’t. I’m irresistible.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Damian corrects. 

“I still don’t believe that line.” 

“Your belief does not change the truth.” 

You laugh, leaning against Damian as you both continue eating, enjoying the view and each other’s company. After the first time Damian joined you on the roof, it became both of your traditions to enjoy your post mission meals together. Later, you would rejoin the team for game night or movie night, but for now, you two enjoy your quiet meals and unwind peacefully. 

Once your meals are finished and the boxes are discarded to the side, you scoot closer to Damian, resting your head on his shoulder. He slowly places a hand on your knee, seeming a bit uncertain. You smile to yourself and squeeze his arm, scooting a little closer to encourage him. He leans into you, seeming more relaxed by the affection. 

“You know,” You finally say after a few minutes of silently watching the sun set. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” 

“How much did you intend to like me?” Damian asks.

You feel him starting to go stiff. 

“Well, given you insulted me when I first met you,” You point out with a shrug. “I didn’t expect to like you very much.” 

“And now?” Damian asks hesitantly. 

You lift your head from Damian’s shoulder to look at him, your noses inches away.

“Now, you’re pretty alright,” You tease, admiring his pretty green eyes. 

Damian rolls his eyes with a small laugh. 

“Just alright?” He asks, squeezing your knee lightly. 

“Well,” You shrug again, feeling your heart pound. “Maybe a little more than alright.” 

You stare at each other for a long moment until Damian’s eyes flicker to your lips. Here goes nothing. Before you can bring yourself to regret, you close the small distance between each other and press your lips to his. He’s hesitant for a moment, stiff against you. Before you can pull away, Damian’s fingers sink into your hair, pulling you closer as he kisses you back. 

You melt into the kiss and grip his shirt tightly. As he shifts his head to deepen the kiss, a voice yells from behind you: 

“It’s about time!” 

You and Damian jump apart, still holding a hand on each other to see Jon standing by the roof access door. Damian scowls at him while Jon grins like he’s just won the lottery. 

“You have no idea how annoying it was so watch you two pretend like you don’t like each other,” Jon rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’re starting game night.” 

He disappears back through the door as you look back at Damian. 

“Well, duty calls,” You joke, sliding off the ledge. 

Damian turns, catches your wrist, and tugs you back to him.

“They can wait,” He mutters to you, kissing you again. 

You happily melt into the kiss, your hands on Damian’s chest as his hands slide to your hips. 

“Am I still insufferable?” You tease against Damian’s lips. 

He smirks, standing to his feet and pulling you close by your waist. 

“Yes,” He kisses you again. 

I’ve been writing things as I get inspiration. I think I’ll be compiling a prompt lists soon because I have some request... They are really big ideas and I don’t think I can take on any projects that big right now. I hope you enjoyed! 

#damian wayne #robin #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #teen titans #jon kent #jonathan kent #colin wilkes #super boy #abuse #yeah there are other teen titans #but not the cannon ones #fight me #i'm half borrowing one of my friend's cannon teams #its so much better than the constant deaging that the writers are doing with the current teen titans #starfire and bb should not still be teen titans with damian #why are any of them even listening to him #hes like 13 in the comics #batman #dc #roy and jason are mentioned for 2 seconds #same with tim #love all of them

[chaozsilhouette]

Turbulent Beginnings

This forms the opening act to Macaque’s story, showing just how different his and Wukong’s early lives were and why he took Wukong’s disappearance so hard.

The idea Macaque was born from the wind was inspired by @animemoonprincess. And yes, I am a shameless fan of Macaque originally having white fur. The angst is just too perfect.

Brace yourselves, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am essentially shoving our boy through an emotional meat grinder.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On a remote island, a day’s travel from China’s eastern shore, a massive hurricane raged as it had since the beginning of this world. The surrounding storms fed into it as its winds carved stone. No life had dared blossom on its soil out of fear of a painful demise. The merciless storm drank deeply of the waters of the sea, draining all aspects of potential and life before casting it aside. Not even curious spirits were spared.

Various deities had wondered why such a storm existed or why the Jade Emperor allowed such a dangerous presence to continue unchecked. Most believed that since the hurricane was stationary and prove no threat to the established order of the world, it was not important.

One day the hurricane vanished. As though it had never existed. Or rather that it had been transformed into something else.

It was the night of a new moon and with the hurricane gone, the island experienced its first cloudless sky. The only one to witness the momentous occasion was a monkie with pure white fur and six ears. Minding his manners, the nameless monkie bowed to the four winds in greeting.

The newborn proceeded to spend his days searching the island for something. Some clue as to the reason behind his birth. He could hear strange voices and words he didn’t understand yet at the same time could. He knew he wasn’t the only creature alive, so why was he alone?

For food, he walked his way through a cave system towards the sea, where he enjoyed the fish that were drawn in through the whirlpools and the mussels that clung to the sharp rocks. He grew to savor the taste of life, even though there was a part of him that craved something different.

Almost forty years passed before he mustered the courage to leave everything he knew to seek out those voices. He gathered all the driftwood and rope that had drifted onshore over the decades, fashioned it into a makeshift raft, and sailed towards the closest source of voices.

His voyage was actually pretty boring once he cleared the whirlpools.

The only exciting part about it was when that strange fish tried to sink his raft. It was bigger than any fish he’d previously seen with a mouth to match. Didn’t mean it survived past the first blow. Taking a bite Macaque wasn’t sure if he liked this fish. The muscles were tough and the flesh was rough on his tongue. He didn’t particularly like the taste. But there was enough to feed him for a full day.

In the end, he chose to eat a third of the fish’s muscles along with its heart before tossing back into the water.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Docking on dry land was an experience that would haunt him for years.

At first, he was filled with wonder at the sight of buildings and new creatures riding rafts far bigger than his.

When he stepped onto shore the whispers began.

The creatures, who he later learned were called humans, were pointing out his ears. They acknowledged his obvious intelligence. He heard them grip wooden instruments tightly. It was as if they expected him to do something.

No one made a move against him. No one approached him, but he could tell he wasn’t wanted. Everywhere he turned he saw eyes that cursed his every existence.

He didn’t stay in that village for long. In his mind, satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth being stared at as though he was the source of all evil.

Demon.

That is what they called him. Was that what he was?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He aimlessly wandered the countryside for far too long.

The first act of kindness he received was from a couple who could not have children of their own. He stumbled upon them by accident, but instead of the normal fearful expressions he’d come to expect they greeted him with genuine smiles and an offer to join them for dinner.

They took him in and treated him like family. He became the son they always wanted. They taught him how to properly speak and how to walk comfortably on two limbs. They blessed him with a name.

They were kind and nurturing. In another world, they may have been called bodhisattvas. But sadly, due to them being ordinary mortals, his time with them only lasted four decades.

He buried them with love but grew resentful of his weak emotions.

He learned what it was like to have someone welcome him home after a long day. He learned to savor the taste of a mother’s home-cooked meal. He enjoyed having a father figure who was willing to teach him old military tactics. He experienced friendly competitions to see who could paint the most accurate portrait of a flower they saw earlier that day. It was everything he never knew he craved and then it was gone. Leaving him with an empty home and a broken heart.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Nearly fifty years later he joined a band of traveling performers.

Their natural oddities allowed them to see who he really was and welcome him into their party. With their compassion, he was granted the opportunity to heal. He learned that despite the group’s large size, very few of them had any direct blood relations. What made them special was how they created their own family and turned what many called strange into something beautiful. Out of respect, he delved into the world of entertainment, found he had a natural talent for it.

When he took the stage people assumed he was in costume, but that didn’t matter. The applause of the audience was a gift he cherished. The sheer passion this family expressed through every second in life warmed his heart beyond words. They were just what he needed to bring him out of his depression.

Alas, it was not meant to stay.

One night their camp was ambushed by a group of demons. They were nothing special, hardly worth mentioning. But for him, back then, it was a fight he never imagined. He could easily handle human bandits, so could his family, but never had he traded blows with a small army of his fellow demons. With the rising of the sun, Macaque stared at the cruelly bright sky covered in blood. All around him bodies lay scattered, life essence soaking into the ground. Despite being tasked with fighting off nearly five dozen demonic opponents he managed to survive with barely a scratch, but he was alone. Again.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tried to change things by sticking to his fellow demons. At least they lived longer.

Somehow that ended up with him becoming the apprentice to a demon healer for almost a century. She was a cold-hearted bitch with a heart of gold. Meticulous in her work, masterful in deduction, and short-tempered with the foolish. She gave everything to her practice and expected the same from him. It was bitter work, but he found it fulfilling. The knowledge that he now possessed the ability to restore others to peak condition settled some unknown part of his soul.

Of course, they would have visitors who wished to take advantage of her skills or steal the medicine. Between the two of them, they protected their clinic, but they weren’t always together. While she may try to hide it, she wasn’t the strongest demon out there. Apparently, the entire reason she got into medicine was to uncover why she was so weak. Centuries of research turned up nothing, but it did make her incredibly skilled at using poisons with her knives to compensate.

One day after he returned from gathering ingredients, he pulled back the door to find the shop in disarray, five unknown bodies slowly dying of extensive blood poisoning, and his master bleeding out from her severed arms. She always said she had no intention of entering Naraka alone.

Guess she kept her word.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The cycle repeated itself over centuries. He would experience a brief window of happiness only for it to be savagely stolen from him, leaving him to mourn and curse his weak heart.

The small glimmers of kindness humanity showed him only made him curse their race even harder when he couldn’t walk into a village without being harassed. The humans who had proven stronger were sadly a rare breed. He was rare to encounter one a century and often they perished at the hands of their kind rather than by demons.

There were times when the ignorance had gotten so bad he’d taken to traveling with a constant glamour, disguising himself as an average human. Whenever he was in the presence of other demons, he allowed his true form to manifest, however, he made it look like he only had a single pair of ears. Standing out was the easiest way to wind up in a complicated situation he had no interest in trying to defuse.

That’s not to say his time was wasted.

Quite the contrary, he had learned much during his travels. He could hardly be compared to the happy young monkie, who was ignorant of the dangers and hardships this world held. In a sad attempt to fill the void, Macaque sought out wisdom and strength. He located masters of both the mystic and martial arts. He may have had to lie about his age, he was becoming quite the accomplished liar, but the results were more than worth it. With every stop, he found himself growing more certain of his strength and his identity.

Eventually, he discovered a strange monastery hidden in a cave in the face of a mountain.

He had never seen anything like it during his travels. But what truly drew his attention was the feeling the temple exuded, every stone exuded a strange aurora. Something powerful dwelled within, powerful yet there was an undeniably human quality to it all.

Hiding beneath his usual glamor, Macaque approached the temple with the desire to discover exactly what was being taught. Before he knew what was happening, he was speaking to the immortal sage who was running the joint. Master Subhuti welcomed him to his home and offered some tea. The disguised monkie was bombarded by dozens of questions, all of which he attempted to answer as though he was a normal human.

The master welcomed him as his newest disciple and showed him his new home. Later he learned the master could see through his disguise and sensed his potential. Apparently, the old immortal believed that the monkie would do well to learn his disciplines and he was fascinated by the monkie’s natural talent.Said something about how with proper guidance only the Buddha would be able to peer past his façade.

The monkie even received a new name to celebrate his rebirth. From that day forward he was Liu’Er Mihou, or the Six-Eared Macaque. He liked it. While he cherished the name his first family gifted him, he felt this was a good sign. A tribute to show that he was a changed monkie.

Regardless, he refused to drop his glamor. He had seen too many demons be cast out and attacked for getting sloppy. The other students were not thrilled about the newcomer showing them up and he wasn’t willing to give them a true reason to despise him. He learned quickly, more so than any other human disciple, but that put him at odds with those who were still struggling after years of training.

Macaque distanced himself from the others. They weren’t that interesting anyway. He didn’t care that they talked about him behind his back or were fully aware he could hear them. He couldn’t risk getting close so soon. He was determined to break the cycle. He didn’t care about immortality. He didn’t care about obtaining power. All he wanted was to end the pain. So far things had been working out in his favor.

Then heshowed up…

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

That trice damned monkie with peach-colored fur and markings like a golden mask. He was so naïve about the world. He treated everything as though it was some exciting game. His upbeat energy made Macaque sick. Some twisted part of him wanted to snap his neck just to end it, but a small part was fascinated by it. The other monkie reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten.

The Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, didn’t bother hiding his true appearance. Truthfully, Macaque wasn’t sure he knew how or that he should. He didn’t seem to notice how other students would keep their distance or how they kept their conversations as brief as possible without crossing the threshold into being considered rude.

He was so earnest and happy, it was painful. The new monkie pestered everyone about everything, it was like dealing with a newborn, but it seemed Macaque was his favorite to bother. The worst part was how he stared at Macaque as though he could peer past his glamour. Although Macaque wasn’t sure if that was truly possible. The Master could, but he dedicated centuries to refine his skills. Wait. How old was this annoyance? Perhaps he could smell he wasn’t like the other disciples.

Either way, he knew it was just a matter of time until the truth got out. He just didn’t expect it to be when he was changing.

Each student was offered a meager room for privacy. They were all the same size and offered little to no space for any customization, but the walls were enchanted to cut out sound whenever the doors were closed.

Behind those flimsy walls was the only time Macaque allowed his glamor to drop. While he valued being cautious, even he couldn’t keep up the glamour indefinitely, much less when he was asleep.

It was in that small space of safety that he discovered he wasn’t alone.

He had just allowed himself to relax when a smiling face covered in peach fuzz was shoved into his own.

“I knew it! You’re like me.” Sun Wukong happily exclaimed, stars practically dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up.” Macaque clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. Checking to ensure no one else was present and the door was shut, he faced the intruder. “Have you told anyone?” He hissed, while berating himself for failing to check the ceiling. You always look up when scanning a room, he knew that.

“Nope. Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” The cheerful demon spoke as though they were old friends. His golden eyes took in every hair of his fellow monkie’s true appearance.

“I’m a demon. And there is nothing beautiful about me.” Macaque growled.

“Yes, there is.” Wukong insisted. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you hiding? The Master let me in, I wager he knows about you, so why?”

Sighing, Macaque massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have been hurt enough times to know keeping a low profile is optimal in survival. It is better to keep one’s head down than risk getting called out.” From observation, he knew the newer student wouldn’t leave until he received answers, so the best option was to just give him what he wanted and pray he knew enough to leave.

“That’s no fun.” Wukong stuck his tongue out in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. We were born this way.” He jumped high into the air only to catch himself on his tail with a cheeky grin. “So, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Cute speech. But my answer is no. Now leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that attitude right up.” Thankfully Wukong left, but not before sending a smile laced with mischief his way. “See you tomorrow.”

Macaque prayed to every deity that would be the end of it. But even he knew it was a futile attempt.

“Do you have a tribe?” Wukong asked, hanging by his tail from Macaque’s favorite tree.

A startled Macaque blinked at the random question. “A what?”

“A tribe. A family. A place to call home?” Wukong asked smoothly even if he wasn’t familiar with the term family until recently he knew it was important.

“Not anymore.” Glaring Macaque returned his focus to his meal.

“Aw.” Wukong knew that look. He had seen plenty of monkeys wear that arura after watching other tribe members die. “Then you should come with me!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You can join my tribe. There are dozens of us back home. Plenty of food and water, you’ll constantly be surrounded by others like us.”

“Other demons?”

“No.” Wukong smiled as though he told a funny joke. “Other monkeys.”

“There is no reason for me to join you.” Macaque stated, wishing he could finish his lunch in peace.

But Wukong wasn’t letting him go that easily. “And there’s no reason for you to refuse.” He stated, ignoring any and all social cues or common sense for respecting personal space.

It went on like that for years. Every day Macaque would awake to find gold eyes staring at him, waiting for his answer to change. Breaks were spent dodging the hyperactive monkie as he tried to eat alone. Training sessions soon found him sparring with the same partner.

The monkie was stubborn no doubt and Macaque feared his actions were slowly breaking down his walls. The pale furred monkie missed having a connection. He adored being able to talk to others, but whenever he opened up he only got hurt.

But maybe, maybe this time could be different…

Wukong was training to obtain immortality. He had already proven to be stronger and more clever than anyone he’d known. The simian showed that he wanted to know him better. He constantly tried to touch his fur, something he called grooming, which felt pretty nice.

Maybe…maybe this time he could truly have a home.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

A streak of light accompanied by a sharp whistle pierced the night sky. For a brief moment, it vanished before exploding in a beautiful display of color and light.

On the monastery’s rooftop, Wukong backflipped in joy at the sight, his golden eyes wide. “Happy New Year!” The monkie cried. In the village below, he could make out dozens of voices echoing the greeting.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, fireworks were a sight he always adored. “This has got to be mankind’s greatest invention!” The flowers of fire were simply too beautiful. So unique. Nothing on Flower Fruit Mountain compared to such beauty, it made him thankful he decided to leave.

From the corner of his eye, Wukong noticed that his companion was clutched his ears wincing with every detonation. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. Just loud.” Macaque said. He was truly questioning his sanity by joining Wukong on the roof. Normally he barricaded himself in his room, but his friend was so thrilled about sharing their first New Year together he couldn’t say no.

“Oh.” Somehow the new set of fireworks didn’t look that attractive. “We can go inside if you want.” They were beautiful, but nothing was worth feeling helpless as his friend curled up in pain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the volume. No different than punches that break the sound barrier, right?” Macaque tried flashing a confident grin to varying success.

Wukong suspected that Macaque was lying, but learned enough to know further prying would just cause the other monkie to simply shut out the world. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“You made a persuasive argument.” Anyone who could harass him for nearly five years straight proved their determination.

Wukong playfully stuck his tongue out. “Hehe…Seriously though, I’m happy you chose to be part of my tribe. No one should be alone.”

“Then why have I been for so long.”

“I doubt even Master knows. But you won’t be able to say that anymore.” Wukong wrapped his arms around his best friend. Pulling him close, Wukong faced the fireworks, unconsciously grooming Macaque as he savored every pop of color.

Beneath those gentle digits, Macaque steadied himself against the soothing heartbeat of the one he slowly learned to trust. As the display continued, the pale monkie learned to appreciate the human’s creations. Turns out they weren’t so bad so long as you have the right company.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

“I’m sorry. You’re what?!” Macaque’s response was perfectly justified. There was no way he just heard what he thought he heard.

Wukong flashed a blinding grin. “I’m heading to the Celestial realm. I’ve been given a position in Celestial Bureaucracy.” Not seeing any problems whatsoever.

“Why?” Just why? From everything he heard about those stuck-up deities, they would never hand over a position to anyone without requiring the completion of an impossible task, much less to a demon. Least of all a demon who has done nothing but terrorize others and unleash chaos whenever he went.

“Don’t know. But I got to go right now.” Wukong shrugged as he finished packing. The Gold Star of Venus was waiting just outside the waterfall.

“But what about Flower Fruit Mountain? What about your subjects? What am I supposed to do? How long are you going to be gone?” Macaque fired off a rapid stream of questions. Panic was beginning to take hold.

Wukong, however, was as calm and confident as ever. “Stop worrying so much. Look I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then you’re in charge.” He finished as though it was obvious.

“Me!” A white tail nearly burst into twice its normal size in shock. “But I have no idea how to run a Court!”

“Neither do I. Not in the traditional sense at least. Look just keep an eye on things. Protect the monkeys from hunters and malicious demons. Sometimes one of the allied demon kings will ask for some help. It’s nothing you haven’t helped me with before. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things until I get back.”

Seeing his companion and good friend growing even more lost, Wukong closed the distance and took his face in both hands. “This is a good thing. If I can make this work, none of us will ever have to worry about being hunted or not having enough food ever again.”

In a snap, Macaque grabbed the king’s arms. “What if I don’t care about any of that? What if I just want you to stay?”

For the first time in their conversation, Wukong’s cocky attitude vanished replaced with a loving smile. Gently prying Macaque’s claws off his shirt, Wukong placed his cheek on a palm as he kissed the knuckles of another. “I can’t. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. This isn’t goodbye. I’ll keep in touch. The time will fly. We’ll make this work. Trust me.”

“Alright, Wukong. I trust you.” Macaque said, ignoring every fiber of his being that screamed this would end poorly.

“If things go wrong, remember I’m just a telepathic call away.” Summoning his cloud, Wukong back flipped onto it with his bag. “Monkey King, out!”

One sonic boom later and he was gone, along with a good chunk of the cave walls.

“Hpmh. That’s my idiot.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

How did this happen? How did this happen?!

One moment they were fighting for their lives against the army of the Celestial Realm and the next Macaque bore witness to Wukong being carted away in a diamond snare.

Now as he stared at the charred remains of what once was a growing village of monkeys, Macaque felt something within him change.

For almost two months he had burned in celestial fires. The sounds of the dead and dying rang out, making his namesake almost bleed. He choked on the ashes of the mortal monkeys. The air had a strangely sweet and bitter taste to it.

Macaque lost count of all the times he charged back into the fires to save as many heartbeats as he could. He wasn’t sure but he suspected he blacked out more than once. With every heartbeat that stilled before he could reach them, a part of him followed them into Yama’s realm.

Finally, the fires had died down. They didn’t have anything left to burn.

All around him he saw the pitiful leftovers of what was once a thriving community. He had treated the survivors the best he could, but he lost his medical equipment in the blaze. The only ones he didn’t have to worry about were the monkeys Wukong made immortal, but he did what he could to ease the pain.

But still, he wondered why…why were they staring at him as though they were confused?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. He just worked through 49 days without any sleep. Everything was stable for now. The best course of action was to wash off the ash and get some much-deserved rest.

There was nothing the Celestial Realm could do to Wukong that he couldn’t handle. Besides Macaque didn’t even know how to get there even if he was at full strength. Wukong couldn’t die so it was only a matter of time before someone tripped up allowing him to return home.

He just had to be patient.

Stepping into the clear river, Macaque’s jaw almost dropped as the water around him immediately turned gray. He didn’t realize he was that filthy.

He started scrubbing himself, ducking under the water to ensure he didn’t miss a spot. He had to move a few times due to the sheer amount of shoot and ash that clung to him. The entire cleaning process took a full hour before the water ran clear.

Stepping out, Macaque felt more refreshed than he ever remembered. Shaking to remove as much access water as possible, all the towels were soot so he had to make do, he paused by the waterside to see how much fur he lost. But what he saw met none of his expectations.

Instead of fur that invoked images of the moon, he was cloaked in the color of the darkest ink.

“What happened to me?”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years he searched, for any trace of the legendary Five-Fingered Moutain Buddha used to trap Sun Wukong only to find nothing. Macaque scoured far and wide. Neither the winds nor the shadows could lead him towards his friend.

He picked fights with countless demons who claimed to witness the great Monkey King brought low. It barely took two punches before they broke down crying how it had been nothing but a lie, how they only repeated rumors.

He bargained for any information he could find, but all accounts claimed the mountain didn’t exist. Many refused to answer him on principle of not interfering with the Celestial Realm’s issues. Their last mistake. Others took Wukoong’s punishment as a sign to amass as much power as possible out of fear that they would be targeted next.

Macaque had witnessed the formation of more alliances and territory grabs in the past century than had been recorded in the last thousand years. Demons were becoming more power-hungry and suspicious, which meant even more trouble for the humans. Things were becoming so chaotic, Macaque had to wonder if it was planned.

But he couldn’t dwell on that.

He hadn’t visited Flower Fruit Moutain in years. His clones kept guard, but slowly he was losing the drive to keep replenishing them. The only reason he called that mountain home was because of Wukong. It wasn’t home without him.

But he had to keep looking. Had to keep trying. He would find his friend.

Somehow.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tricked himself into thinking this would be different. That he would no longer be alone. That finally he had found a family he could keep.

He was an idiot!

The truth was he was no different than anyone else. The world was Sun Wukong’s toy chest and Macaque was merely a shiny new trinket to bat around until he grew bored. Seeing him with that group, knowing that he chose them over their past, was too much.

He was sick of being left behind. He had been left alone so many times. What made him think he couldn’t be replaced?

He could have attacked, ripped their precious monk to pieces, he could have...should have...but he was tired.

Returning to Flower Fruit Mountain was a chore, but one he swore he would never complete again. The monkeys questioned his return, asking where their king was and if he’d return soon. Macaque ignored them all. He simply walked to the part of the manor he and Wukong had shared for years, where he had been waiting for his return.

Staring at all the knickknacks and souvenirs they had collected from their adventures, Macaque made up his mind. Grabbing a large sturdy bag, he swiftly packed his essentials. In another, he packed non-perishable goods and water containers.

Stepping out, a flash of something peach-colored caught his eye. Spinning around, hope burning a hole in his chest but his dreams once more were proved false. It was just the special peach tree Wukong had planted from the leftover pit he had saved from his time in the Celestial Realm. Apparently, it had reached maturity and was proudly bearing the first fruit Macaque had seen despite having been planted nearly half a millennia ago.

Macaque wasn’t sure why it was so special, Wukong just winked and said it was a surprise for when they could share a fresh one. Feeling something wet on his arm, Macaque looked down to see his hand stretched towards the tree and the memories he held. Feeling his cheeks, he realized he was crying, which was strange as he didn’t think he had any tears left.

Spurred by longing and spite, Macaque plucked six peaches from the tree and stuffed them into his bag. It wasn’t like Wukong was going to miss them. And he needed the food.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #sun wukong #abandonment issues #no communication #angst #white macaque

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Sacrifce

Warnings: Dub-con, breeding kink, Human sacrifice

AO3

The winter had been harsh and long. The snow was thick over the fields, making sure that no crops would grow. The village was down to its last few animals; even the ones that had perished due to the harsh conditions had to be used up and eaten. The winter rations used up long ago, when the people thought it would be a normal cold season. No one had suspected that the ice would remain for this long. Spring should have started by now, the fields should have been lush and green, lambs and calves should have been dotted around the meadows and pastures. But here you were, cocooned in all the furs the family owned, ignoring pangs of hunger, and wishing to feel the warmth of the sun once more. Clearly this was the anger of the gods, and something had to be done in order to appease them or else your entire village would perish. A decision was made. A sacrifice was needed. It couldn’t be livestock; you were already struggling. The village elders had decided that there were already too many mouths to feed, so a human life it would be. It couldn’t be one of the boys, because obviously strong young men were needed to do what little labour was needed in the village. Elders were needed to pass on knowledge. Mothers were needed to raise the children. And this particular entity did not accept the lives of children. That left the girls of marriageable age. ‘Typical’ you thought to yourself. Something in the back of your mind told you that it would be you. Your family wasn’t particularly important, you had no elders to vouch for you in the council, and as much as they cared about the ‘good of the people’, they were not prepared to let go of their own granddaughters. When the decision was announced, you were not surprised. You hoped it was quick, whatever it was. //// For some morbid reason, you were dressed like a bride. The ceremonial garb was far too thin for the temperature. Maybe you were to freeze to death. Whoever this god was, his temple was located in the mountains near your village. It was, however, a surprisingly short trek. You assumed you would perish along the way seen as you were barefoot, without furs and not well fed. The people of the village could not even extend those courtesies to you. You looked around at the entrance of the temple, it just seemed like a dark and icy cave. It had gone unused for so long. The Jotun god, Loki had fallen out of the people's favour long ago. Mischief and chaos were not welcome by the people. Instead, his brother, Thor remained as the favoured god of the region. Maybe the harsh winter was revenge and punishment for forsaking him. A harsh reminder to the people that he still existed, and that his anger was not to be taken lightly. An elder spoke to you as your hands were tied, you weren’t really listening. A bitter drink was given to you, it burned on the way down, but it was the most warmth you had felt in a while. A thick veil was placed over your head, apparently you weren’t allowed to see what was about to happen, a small mercy. You were led into the temple, the lack of harsh wind making things a little more bearable, but the pure ice on the floor made your bare feet hurt. You were pushed onto your knees, the cold seeping into your bones. The elder walked away. You listened as the voices of the men drifted away from the entrance, leaving your fate in the hands of something unknown. Your only company was the constant dripping, echoing from somewhere in the cave, and the sound of your own thoughts. You hoped it was worth it. A numbing sensation began to take over, probably caused by the drink from earlier. //// You jolted awake at the sound of total silence. The wind could no longer be heard, and the dripping had stopped. You still couldn’t see anything. Yet somehow the room seemed a lot bigger, you felt more exposed, missing the strange comfort of the enclosed space you were supposedly left in. Had you been moved? As your eyes began to grow heavy again, you heard a shuffling from in front of you. The noise causing you to sit up straight. Whatever it was, its presence was suffocating. “Now what do we have here?” The voice was like velvet. Otherworldly even. It seemed to descend, getting closer to you. “A shivering little lamb, all for me.” This must have been Loki. You fought the urge to run out of wherever you were. “Well, it seems like the people haven’t been able to forget me, no matter how hard they try.” He grabbed your tied wrists, the rope falling away like water. His hands felt so big compared to yours. His cold touch made you tingle. “Oh you poor thing. Freezing, aren’t you?” You could only nod. He responded with a light chuckle. “Are you going to eat me?” you blurted out, not thinking about what you were saying. He moved away from you. You could feel him staring at you. You knew he was grinning. “Of course, I am,” he got closer again, “it is up to you how,” he whispered. You gulped. There seemed to be innuendo in his statement. He moved again, this time directly in front of you. You gasped as you saw his fingers hook under your veil. Big and blue was the only way you could describe them, with raised ridges. You wanted to trace them with your fingers. Your thoughts were cut short by the tugging on your veil. Your hands shot up to cover your scrunched up eyes. You felt the veil come off, the cool air hitting your head. “Look at me, Y/N”, his voice boomed around the space. You never told him your name, you were sure of it. His tone left no space to argue. How could you defy a powerful god anyway? You knew what his wrath could bring first-hand. You lowered your shaky hands first, placing them on your thighs, gripping your knees. You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the new light. Your eyes fell to the bottom of the dais you were kneeling at. Ever so slowly your gaze travelled up, taking in each individual, intricately carved step. Finally, your eyes landed on the being sprawled out over his crystal throne. His head rested on his hand, a bored expression on his face. The only way you could describe him was ‘magnificent’. A beauty like no other. You could see why mortals would fear him, but he was not the grotesque creature you expected him to be. He seemed amused at your expression, raising a brow at you, causing you to blush, you wanted to be back behind the veil to hide your own embarrassment. “I expected a little more screaming, mortals usually can’t handle what they cannot understand,” he finally spoke again. You could do nothing but owlishly blink. “Stand,” he commanded. You scrambled up, your legs resisting after kneeling for so long. “Come here,” he made a ‘come hither’ gesture with his finger. You slowly made your way up the icy steps, becoming painfully aware of your bare feet. You tried to look away when you stood directly in front of him, even sitting the god dwarfed you in size. His icy hand reached forward, gently holding your chin and making you face him. Those red eyes seemed to study your face intensely. You stared right back, taking in all his features. High cheekbones and a sharp nose, all accented by the same ridges he had on his hands. You followed the patterns to the column of his throat, stopping yourself from letting your eyes wander further down; you knew he was covered in the lines. You wondered if they were natural in Jotuns, or if they were burned into the skin, like a rite of passage of sorts. You had heard other tribes in your area had similar traditions. Your thoughts drifted to mapping them out with your own hands. “Such a curious little thing you are,” he said. He must have caught you staring, your eyes darted away from him as he chuckled. You caught a glimpse at his teeth, pearly white and sharp. He pinched your cheeks as you tried to turn away, thoroughly enjoying the heat that rushed into them. “I forget how soft and delicate Midgardians are,” he mumbled. He pulled away from you, looking you up and down as he thought what to do with you. “Your people want salvation, yes? They want the winter to end?” he asked. You quickly nodded; it was the reason you were here. He hummed, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. A grin spread across his face. The room around you began to spin before you fell back onto soft furs. A fire crackled nearby, you sighed at finally feeling warmth after so long. Loki stood above you, staring you down, the light from the fire making his features sharper than before. You felt like a mouse at his feet. You almost screamed as he got down, hovering above you on all fours, engulfing you with his body. Your noses touching. “I will offer your people reprieve from my winter,” he started. “Th- Thank you,” you stuttered. “However,” his grin became more malicious, “If you do not provide me an heir by next spring, the winter will plague your lands until you do,” he whispered in your ear, placing a cold hand across your belly. His tone left no room for question, the future of your people depended on this. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Loki carried you to the furs next to the fire, warming you up even further, you hadn’t noticed you were shivering until you stopped. “I am a cruel god, but I will show mercy to those that deserve it,” he mumbled. His cool hands trailed their way down the column of your throat, you gasped as his lips flowed close behind. Stopping along the way to mark and nip you with his sharp teeth, the marks would scar. This was the closest anyone had ever been to you. His hands made quick work of the cord holding your dress together. He peeled the thin fabric away from you. You tried to cover your bare skin, but your hands wouldn’t move, held down by some sort of magic. His hands found your soft skin again, making you groan as he paid attention to your breasts. “What sweet sounds you make, little maiden.” He made eye contact with you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hands broke free and buried themselves into his hair, your head falling back in unfamiliar pleasure. He smiles with his wet lips, before moving onto the other. You felt like you were burning up inside. He let go of your nipple with a ‘pop’, the cool air brushing over them. “I hope these will be full soon.” His lips travelled down your abdomen to the tops of your thighs. His hands ran up your legs until they met his lips. In one swift movement he held them open, your legs over his shoulders as your wetness was exposed to him. You covered your face in embarrassment. His fingers ghosted over your sensitive flash, causing your hips to jerk at the sensation, wanting more. “Is your cunt dripping for your god?” His mouth was so close to your heat. He used his magic to remove your hands from your face, making you look at him again. His red eyes burned into yours as his tongue liked a stripe through your folds. You sighed at the feeling, tightening your thighs around him and wanting more. He continued to noisily suck, distracting you from his finger that began to enter you. The intrusion was so foreign to you, but you couldn’t help but give in. Wanting more. You felt so greedy, you had never felt this sort of wanting before. You didn’t think your mother would be happy with you if she found out. Loki began sucking at your sensitive bud, bringing you to the edge of whatever this was. “Please...” you breathed out. You looked down at him with teary eyes, you didn’t know what you were begging for. With one final suck, Loki had you seeing stars, finally falling off the edge you were headed towards. Your legs jerked around him, keeping him where he was as he looked up at you with amusement in his eyes. You looked down at him after coming down from your high, his face wet with your release. You let your legs relax, allowing him to move up to you, this time capturing your lips in a searing kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. He broke away, leaving you breathless. Using his magic, he quickly got rid of what little clothing he was in. You were right about the ridges being everywhere, your hands were loose again, and you reached for his chest, finally getting a feel of the cool skin. He growled as your fingers traced the ridges down to his stomach. His hands stopped yours as you reached his hips. You let your eyes wander down, they widened at the size of his cock. He chuckled at your reaction. “Mortals are quite adaptable are they not? I’m sure your cunt will be able to accommodate me.” He brought your hands to feel his ridged and velvety skin. He sighed at the feeling of your warm hands. He shuffled you around again, spreading you open for what was to come next. He rubbed his cock along your folds, the temperature difference already making you hiss. You didn't think he would fit. With one hand on your hip, he guided the tip to your entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, stopping to let you stretch around him until he bottomed out. The only way you could describe the feeling was ‘full’. You knew no mortal man could ever fill you like this, they wouldn’t even get the opportunity to. His hand pressed down on your stomach, “Can you feel me here?” he groaned. All you could do is nod, no coherent words forming any time soon. Both hands found your hips this time, he began to thrust in a steady rhythm, slowly picking up the pace. You knew you’d never get used to his size, however long you were here. The room filled with the sounds of skin on skin, you moaned anytime he hit that spot inside you. Loki moved you so effortlessly, as if you were simply a toy, made for his pleasure. The coil in your belly began to tighten again, you didn’t know how much longer you would last. “Please, My King… I…” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight the feeling.

“You want to cum again? So soon? Aren’t you being a little greedy mortal?” he taunted. His words made you clench around him a little tighter. You looked up at him with teary eyes, hoping he would show you this one mercy. “Pathetic little thing,” he grumbled, his fingers reaching for your clit, letting you tumble off the edge again. He kept on thrusting through your aftershocks, heightening the sensations. He fully sheathed himself inside you before his head fell back in ecstasy, pumping you full of his seed. You went limp on the furs, trying to catch your breath. The heat of the fire felt too much for you at that moment. Loki pulled himself out with an obscene noise, inspecting the aftermath of his work.

“Your people are lucky to have sent you, little mortal.” He effortlessly carried you back to the bed, letting you sink into the covers. “You were strong enough to last through receiving my seed, and you’ll be strong enough to carry my heir,” his hand rubbed your tummy, seemingly deep in thought, “Not many would have survived.” He climbed in behind you. You groaned as his fingers found your sensitive cunt. He speared you back onto his already hard cock, you whimpered at the stretch. “I’ll let you rest for a little while, but you will keep me warm until we can start again. You have a purpose to fulfil, remember?” “Yes My King,” you whispered back, trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

#My writing #oneshot #loki laufeyson #loki x reader

[geekwritersworld]

Comfort in a stranger

pairing:John shelby x reader 

warnings: fluff

summary:(requested) @ysmmsy​​  John (modern, maybe?) finds the reader sitting on a park bench crying after a fight and with their significant other who is always berating them (maybe for their weight? - I need John Shelby to be into thicc people). They're strangers but he can't leave them there crying like that so he sits down and tries to comfort them.

a/n: I really , really hope you like it. @ysmmsy​  💖💖

Feel free to give feedback. 

It would be assumed that after centuries, there would be a change over the years . And change and progress there was, as the years went by. But there also existed men who lived in the 20th century with a mind that functioned like that of a man in the 1800s. 

Sitting on a park bench, hidden behind an a clutter of large trees was never something she wanted to find herself doing. The wind swept through her hair, the trees rustled and the fallen drying brown leaves scraped on the ground. 

She’d been taking his verbal abuse for months. But she never really realized what everyone else had early on; He was a master at manipulation. He’d berate her for her weight every other day, then he’d twist her defenses and use them against her. It was the most draining thing she’d ever been through. The constant back and forth between self-confidence and self-doubt left her absolutely battered from all aspects. 

But she’d had it today, she’d never really screamed at someone with pure hatred before. Steven decided to berate her once again, after a lunch event. The afternoon had gone gracefully, and she was quite happy with how it had gone. She’d loved the gorgeous emerald dress she’d worn and felt as confident as ever. She’d also received numerous compliments from numerous people.

But once the door shut to his home ,where she’d occasionally stay over for a few weeks at a time, the smile on both their faces faltered. Hers because she knew he’d degrade her. And him, because he’d never truly grown up, a woman without a thigh gap who wasn’t a size zero, troubled his immature mind.

She’d thought she’d looked beautiful, Steven thought otherwise. He’d stated that he felt as though she was overweight. And she was, but why someone’s weight mattered so much didn’t make sense to her just as it didn’t to anyone who was sane. The beauty in her personality was no match for the man with a coal mine for a heart. 

She hoped no one could hear her sobbing. She’d have to go back to their apartment and pack up her stuff. And she didn’t feel as though she had the energy for that.

“are you alright sweetheart?” for the last 20 minutes , the few people that walked through the back of the part , had paid her no mind. So the last  thing she expected was a thick Birmingham accent laced with concern, ask her if she was alright.

Looking up and wiping the tears out of her eyes, she responded “I’m fine "before she could even properly look at the man standing before her. 

“I don’t fucking think people cry when they're fine love” His voice was gentle , something a man hadn’t been with her for a long time.

“Well, you don’t even know me ”she sniffed. 

“well, Im John, John Shelby. I've got 3 brothers and a sister. Now what about you” he smiled, sitting down next to her.

She gave a small smile, which anyone who wasn’t watching her closely would’ve missed, but he was.

“I'm-”she took a deep breath and continued “ I'm y/n. No siblings”

“right now we know enough about each other, why are you crying, eh”The look in his eyes, the way he had a certain soft and concerning looking evident in his eyes, made her breakdown again.

“Just, um, an ass of a boyfriend.”

“What the bastard do ?” He said , watching her.

“Apparently Mr. Shelby, I'm not fucking thin enough. But it’s nothing new , I’ve been hearing this for months now. "She’d wiped her tears, there was a slow and rapid rise of anger that was replacing the sadness and hurt. 

The wind grew colder and louder. Parents, their children and dogs, started to leave. There was a slow silence that was taking over the emptying park.

Maybe she’d gotten so used to being degraded by Steven for months, that John’s snorting didn’t even phase her. What else did she expect?

“Thin enough? And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” John looked almost amused, that such a thing was even a thought leave alone a topic of constant degradation.

“I mean its not as though that has to do with what your like as a fucking person is it? Plus, I think you look fucking gorgeous.” John placed his hand on hers, and smiled at her. “I don’t think it matters whether your a fucking size zero or a size 20. Your gorgeous anyway” 

“You don’t even know me, I mean , you're only saying that because you feel bad for the girl sitting alone on a park bench and crying” she argued. The ghastly man she’d been dating for almost a year now, had left her as a shell of a woman she once used to be. 

“sweetheart, your body doesn’t define your worth. I personally find you to be a wondrous sight.” H e smirked. She hadn’t paid much attention to his features, but now that she was, she noticed the confidence and assurance in hiss words. It was as though she just knew in her heart, that he spoke the truth. 

But she found it immensely difficult to believe him regardless after months of her self-worth being ripped and shredded apart.

“Thank you, I think” she wasn’t crying anymore, if anything, she felt sure of one thing; she was going to work on rebuilding herself. She would no longer be berated and degraded. 

“have a drink with me ,eh,as a thank you?” John said with a sly smile.

She nodded, offering no words however.

****

Sitting at the small bar, with their drinks, they made conversation, talking of their childhood , stories they heard growing up, their plans and their regrets. They spoke as though they’d known each other a lifetime, like as if they were childhood friends , reuniting.  

It was now almost 9 pm, but neither of the two were aware of the time. They were pulled out of their conversation when Y/n turned around after hearing her name being called.

“Steven” she breathed out. She knew she’d have to deal with him, when she got back to his house to pack up some of her belongings.

But instead, he stood a few feet away, anger in his face and his fists clenched.

“ y/n , I fucking wait at home, concerned , and your out here fucking with another man” She could see the anger and insecurity in his face. 

John who sat turned around as well, was about to defend her when she made it very clear she didn’t need someone else to defend her 

“I am not fucking him Steven “ she was standing now, fists clenched as well “ And your house is no fucking home. I am not yours anymore and I sure as fuck do not need your validation of what i fucking eat and don't. Your fucking pathetic if you think someone's weight is something that defines them, because it fucking doesn't. But you wouldn’t understand that because you never fucking grew up”

There were a few people who’d heard her, but the loud music prevented from anyone else being able to listen . The few heads that had turned towards y/n and Steven, had furrowed their eyebrows. Murmured comments aimed at Steven could be heard.

“what a douche” “he’s got some growing and maturing to do” “Fucking disgusting” “Who’s gonna tell him what he looks like though” “he does not get to talk” 

“Fuck you” He’d felt humiliated, he felt what she had for months, so he stormed out because he knew he wouldn’t win. 

“I'm so fucking proud of you for that, eh” she unclenched her fists at the sound of his voice. She almost forgot he was even there.

“Thank you, don’t think I would have come to my senses if you hadn’t talked sense into me”

He anted to get to know her. He found her intriguing. He liked the way she got excited over the little things. He liked the way she spoke so passionately of her career, family and friends.

 He’d only met her a few hours ago, but the glimpses that he’d gotten of her personality made him thank the gods he decided to take a walk in the park for the first time in his life.  

#john shelby x reader #john shelby fanfic #john shelby x y/n #john shelby imagine #john shelby one shot #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby x you #john shelby fluff #john shelby drabble

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, description of an explosion and blood.

Summary: Peter Parker. What a dick. It wasn’t always like this, but once he just got up and gladly left you for an unknown reason, you decided to bring hell down on him by publicly ridiculing him whenever you got the chance. However, when you accidentally find out what he's been hiding, conflicted feelings begin emerging, causing you to wonder if you could ever forgive him — especially when he saves your life.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: this came to me in a fucking dream so you bet I had to wake up and write this. It’s already completed hehe. I’m going to be posting the parts every day so stay tuned :D

----------------------------------------

Never in your entire life would you have thought that there’d be a time when you’d willingly side with Flash. When you’d join him in bullying Peter, your best friend that you’d known since the both of you were shitting yourselves in diapers. Not a night goes by in which you don’t ask yourself why.

Why did he decide to break you?

The day he told you he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore was a day worse than finding out your father had cheated on your mother, prompting her to abruptly exit both your and your father’s lives when you were eleven. In all honesty, it felt like Peter took notes about suddenly leaving when you cried to him about your mother disappearing and used them to his advantage the summer before freshman year.

It was a pain like no other, a wound so hurtful your tear tank was constantly emptied every time you were alone in your room. There were too many nights where you’d lie awake with an ache in your chest - like someone dropped an avalanche on your heart and left it there to crush it.

Friendship breakups hurt like hell.

The days seemed to move slow and the nights even slower. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d blankly stare at your collection of photos of the two of you with tear stricken cheeks.

You constantly wondered if he regretted it.

And if he did, you told yourself you’d forgive him. You’d go back to him, because you were sure he didn’t mean it. Excuses began piling up in your mind, each one not having enough evidence to be proven true; maybe he was going through something he didn’t want to talk about. Maybe someone in his life died, like when Uncle Ben suddenly passed away. He didn’t speak to you for a week and didn’t show up to school, and when you went over to check on him, he broke down in your arms as he apologized for ignoring you, but you understood.

You always did.

So, you waited, and waited, and waited. Waited for a call, a text, something. But nothing ever came. No phone calls — he ignored yours — no apologies, no explanation, nothing but radio silence. It was almost like you never existed in the first place.

Day by day your hope slowly faded, and by the 56th day, all of it was gone. You didn’t know how to feel. You were furious at him for abandoning you. You were heartbroken. You told yourself you were being overdramatic — it wasn’t like you were in a relationship together, no matter how much you wanted to be.

All he ever saw you as was a friend. But that was before it all happened. Now he probably didn’t see you as anything but a stranger.

A stranger with memories and secrets revolving him.

Hot anger was quick to take control of your mind, and soon you stopped your crying and tore down years worth of captured memories and pinned birthday cards he made you - all reminders of how much you loved him - and threw them into a box. You shoved it to the back of your closet, along with your dignity and love for him.

Four months after your ‘breakup', you came back different. Newfound confidence shone out of you with every step you made down Midtown’s hallways. Your smile radiated happiness as you felt everyone’s eyes lay upon you. You were able to fool yourself and others around you that nothing happened. Your heart knew better, but soon it’d turn to stone.

And you convinced yourself that you preferred it that way.

You moved on, found friendship in others, and although they never lived up to him, they were enough to fill part of the gaping hole in your heart.

Flash making amends with you was probably the most surprising and unexpected thing to have ever happened in the school. You two got along well, almost too well, and about halfway into the school year, you became good friends. You two weren’t as close as you and Peter once were, but you bonded over your absent parents in ways you didn’t know were possible.

You felt understood, and he the same.

Still, that didn’t stop you from seeing Peter in the hallways. You made it a point to walk past him like you didn’t know him — because apparently, you didn’t.

You kept watching him from a distance.

You watched him make goo-goo eyes at Liz while rolling your own.

You watched him dart out of school at exactly two forty-five every day. You saw the anxiousness in the way he bounced his leg during class, the tapping of his pencil on the desk, the constant glances he threw at the clock with every minute that passed. You wanted to ask, but you didn’t.

On a particular day, the same day you overheard him and Ned making plans to meet up at his house to build Legos, you decided to go to Delmar’s to grab a bite. You hadn’t been there since the breakup, as you were always too nervous in case Peter ended up going there at the same time, and now that there was a clearing, you took it. Even if he was there, you didn't care.

You don’t.

When you stepped into the store, you were immediately welcomed by the one and only Mr. Delmar. He looked good — happy and content, and that’s why you absolutely adored him. It wasn’t fair that you cut off ties with him because of Peter, but he didn’t seem to take it personally. He went on and on about how much taller you’ve gotten and reminisced about how little you were when you and Peter got your first flattened number five sandwiches with pickles.

He must’ve seen your smile falter at the mention of Peter, because his eyebrows furrowed in concern not a moment later, “Did something happen to you kids? I never see him come with you anymore.”

So he’s been coming without you.

Ouch. That’s another stab to the heart.

Your palms began to feel slick as you rubbed them on your jeans with a strained smile and a shaky voice, feeling as if the walls were closing in on you, “Uh-we-“

But you never got to finish. Mr. Delmar’s eyes widened at something behind you, and in a split second, he yelled, “Get down!” followed by a string of Spanish curse words.

A scream left your mouth as a purple wave of something ripped through the bodega, nearly missing you by a strand of hair as you ducked. Shattered glass scattered everywhere, digging into the skin of your arms in a multitude of places. You hissed at the burn you felt below your eye, feeling a heavy liquid (which you assumed was blood) trail down your cheek and neck. You felt intense heat near your legs and your vision became blurred, ears ringing as all other noises besides your breathing became muffled. You coughed and coughed, feeling like your lungs were closing in on themselves from the fire that surrounded you.

The light above you flickered as you attempted to shout Mr. Delmar’s name, praying that he was all right.

But your voice never left your throat.

Your legs were trapped below two giant shelves that collapsed on them, and you weren’t strong enough to move them no matter how many times you tried to. The fire slithered like a snake as it began climbing to where your legs were being held below the rubble.

“Help.” You weakly whispered in between your coughs. The air around you felt heavy and limited, and it was starting to feel like you were choking on the fumes. You didn’t know how much longer your lungs could take.

It was hot. So fucking hot.

Your eyes shut and your head fell back on the ground, chest heaving in fast paces as you felt your body give up already, a burning sensation spreading all over you, like your insides were set on fire.

Your face trickled with sweat that dripped down to your cheeks, mixing with your tears.

Just when all hope was gone, just when you thought you were done for, you felt the weight lift off of your legs in one sudden movement, and an arm slide beneath your knees and on your back, holding you tightly.

You looked up at your savior, and who else could it have been other than Spider-Man, New York’s knight in shining armor, and apparently yours, too. You heard part of what he seemed to be saying as he looked down at you: “…got…I…you” and you could’ve sworn you heard your name.

But then again, you were on the brink of death, so you were no doubt hearing things.

You laid your tired head on his chest, wheezing into his smooth suit as he ran and jumped away from the fire until he reached the outside. He gingerly placed you on the ground and made you lean back against a parked car, and you breathed in the cool night air as he crouched down to rub your back while you practically choked.

In front of Spider-Man.

How embarrassing.

You felt your head heavily fall back as you clutched your arm in pain, the distant sound of police sirens audible now. Your eyes landed upon his covered face that turned away when you looked at him - like he was staring at you until you caught him. You could see that he wanted to go somewhere in the way that his spidey-eyes were expanding and shrinking at the destroyed bank across the street. You moved to touch your legs, and by some miracle, they were just a little sore. You could manage on your own.

“Go,” you breathily said, making Spider-Man look down at you, “I’m okay.”

He hesitated for a moment and pivoted his head to your legs. You breathed out half a laugh, coughing again, “Dude,” you placed a hand on his shoulder and jutted towards your legs as you began moving them, “they’re fine. I’m fine. I know you wanna go somewhere. Just go after it.”

He stayed. For a long minute, just watching you breathe and tilt your head at him. You wondered what was going on in that brain of his, wondered how old he was, wondered where he went to school - if he even went to school. You were trying to formulate a way to thank him for saving you, but you didn’t get the chance to. He nodded and quickly he sprung away, making way for the paramedics and cops to inspect the scene.

You didn’t go to school for a whole week after the incident, as you were too busy reflecting on what had happened. You went over multiple scenarios and “what if’s” and tried not to dwell on the fact that you had to have your driver pick you up from the hospital, not your father. He was probably out of the country, like he always was.

When you finally returned to school, you had stitched up three areas, including one below your eye, and were bombarded with questions and a large group hug from your friends. Your phone was no doubt a goner, so they had no way of contacting you. Even when they tried to come over, your housekeeper, Jane, always the responsible adult, told them the doctor needed you to rest alone.

She knew you couldn’t handle people, and needed to recharge on your own. She was like the mother you never had. Even when Peter left, she stayed by your side and tried to cheer you up. She knew how strong your feelings were for Peter, but she didn’t question you, instead allowing you to grieve the way you wanted to - alone.

Your friends asked you about what happened, and their eyes sparkled when you told them the Spider-Man came to your rescue, their excitement cutting short once the bell rang. They all left to go to their classes after wishing you a quick recovery. All but one.

Flash stood in front of you, nibbling on his lower lip with a wobbling chin and glassy eyes.

“Are you..crying?” you squinted at him, lips twitching into a smirk.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, wiping the stray tears before attacking you with a tight hug. You sighed deeply, feeling a nostalgic warmth spread through your chest as you placed your chin on his shoulder, arms circulating him and squeezing in a way that said "I’m here."

In class, you felt hardcore stares — stares that came from one person and one person only. You saw them from the corner of your eye, tracing the scar on your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were laced with worry. But perhaps you hit your head too hard.

During gym class, the last class of the day, you were excused from exercises due to your near-death experience, so you watched and cheered Flash as he climbed the ropes, attempting to break his own record.

“48 seconds.” You stated, pausing the timer as he jumped to the ground and planted his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

He looked up at you with a deep frown, “Seriously? How did I get slower?”

You shrugged, “Maybe you should change your nickname, Eugene.” You smirked, taunting him with the name you knew he hated.

He breathed out a laugh as he shook his head. He was about to say something when Ned’s voice overpowered everyone else’s with one sentence: “Peter knows Spider-Man!”

Everybody went so silent you’d think the queen of England had just walked in.

The sound of balls being dropped and shoes squeaking echoed through the gym as all heads turned to Peter Parker, who nervously looked around and quickly stood up, “Uh, no! No, I don’t. I-I mean..”

He clumsily made his way over to Liz (go figure), whose face remained expressionless.

“They’re friends,” Ned said as a matter of factly.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends,” Flash said, making a couple of people laugh, including you.

“I’ve met him, yeah, a-a couple of times. But it’s um, through the...Stark...Internship. I’m not really supposed to talk about it.” He gritted through his teeth as he threw daggers at Ned with wide eyes.

“Well, that’s awesome!” You piped in, your loud sarcasm breaking the silence that settled over the gym, "He’s a pretty cool guy, I’m sure Liz would love to meet him. Hey, maybe you should invite him to her party.”

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight, you’re more than welcome to come.” Liz sweetly admitted, almost like she wanted him to come.

Ew.

“You’re having a party?” Peter said breathlessly, as if that wasn’t what you just said.

Flash gave Peter a snarling smile, “Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.” He suggested, derision oozing out of his words.

“Um-“ Peter stammered, helpless eyes searching for assistance in your own. But you wouldn’t give him any sympathy. Not anymore. You stared back, cold as ice, and you knew he saw that. You merely gave him a raised eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, breaking you and Peter’s eye contact, “I know Peter’s way too busy for parties anyways so..”

“Oh, come on, he’ll be there. Parker wouldn’t ditch.” You said, voice dripping with venom as you maintained eye contact with him and walked past Flash until you reached him. You stopped at his side, just enough to give him a deadly stare, “Right?”

You watched his Adam’s apple bob and eyes dart across the ground as his fingers tangled with one another to conceal his shaking left hand. You studied his face, ignoring something that looked like a fading bruise on his jaw. The school bell rang, and with that, Flash walked to you, raising his hand for a fist pump. You bumped yours with his with a smirk and walked out the gym doors, ready to call Peter out on his bullshit once more tonight.

Next Chapter All The Hurt Masterlist Main Masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #y/n #marvel #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 11: The Delivery

Summary: Jensen and Y/n welcome their newest addition to this world.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 7.2K+

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of labor and birth

Author’s Note: Baby Ackles is finally ready to make their first appearance. If you have been following this story since the beginning, you may want to grab a tissue, there just might be some tears (happy tears tho). Also, I will preface this chapter by saying I have never been pregnant nor given birth so please don’t @ me with any inaccuracies, I tried my dudes. Special thanks to my loves for the constant undeserved support and my devoted beta @emoryhemsworth​ xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The winter sun had long ago dipped underneath the horizon, the night bringing a new level of quiet to the residential corner where the birthing center was located. Inside birthing suite two, the only soft light came from the LED strips that followed the length of the walls at the base and ceiling. Currently, they were tuned low and blue, the light mixing with the neutral decor in a way that made her feel like she was underwater. 

Curled on her side in the queen-sized bed, Y/n watched out the window on the opposite wall. Through the sheer curtain, the center’s garden could be visualized. It expanded a few hundred yards until the treeline of the nearby forest began. In silence, she watched the water trickle from the stone fountain in the center. It had been turned off for the season, but the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening still clung to the piece, each drop falling in a slow rhythmic pattern. 

Y/n found it more soothing than what the fountain had looked like last summer when they had first toured the place. She assumed if she was laboring in spring or summer, walking the trails in the garden would be something she found herself doing, even late in the evening as it was currently. But that was a dream she had let go of as the temperature dropped. All she had now was the counting of each drop in between contractions. 

The instinct to hold her breath took over as the next contraction washed over her, the sharp inhale of breath alerting the dozing man next to her. Y/n closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths, trying to ground herself to the moment. Fingers pressed into her lower back, one on either side of her spine, applying counter-pressure to the contraction. 

“Harder,” her word was weak, even in the quiet room. The pressure increased instantly, helping her to focus back on breathing through the contraction. It felt like a lifetime later when the pain began to subside before eventually tapering off. The sheets shuffled in the dark behind her before she felt an arm wrap around her abdomen. 

“Where are you at?” Jensen’s voice broke into the room as he pulled her tight against his chest. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her gaze back on the fountain outside. “Trying to be anywhere but here.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Birth our child?” she tried, unable to stop the smile from creeping up on her face. If there was one thing Y/n didn’t handle well, it was being in pain. She would put back up every wall that anyone had become successful in tearing down, choosing to stew in silence. It was a defense mechanism she had perfected long ago. Never let them see you sweat. Unfortunately, that also meant that she tended to get mean, keeping it all bottled up until she exploded like a shaken can of soda. She truly wished right then that she had a catheter in her back delivering the good meds to her lower body, but she had committed long ago to do this as naturally as possible, her comfort be damned. 

“As soon as they figure out how to do that, I’ve got you, babe,” Jensen chuckled behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. She nodded in unfortunate understanding, her hand coming to rest atop her husband’s where it lay on her belly. 

“Actually, could you top off my water bottle?” Y/n spoke back up after a moment of content silence. 

“Of course. Ice?” He questioned, already climbing from the bed to grab her bottle on the nightstand near her. 

“Please,” she confirmed.

“Be back in a flash,” Jensen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the room to get ice from the main kitchen in the birthing center. A sigh left her mouth as she pulled herself into a semi-sitting position on the bed and grabbed her phone from where it lay charging. There was a mix of messages in her notifications, all from friends and family with varying messages of encouragement. She appreciated the gesture but to be honest, what Y/n wanted more than anything was to not have all the attention on her. It was yet another symptom of being uncomfortable. Her solace lay in the simple fact that she was not expected to answer any of the messages she received, considering she was in labor and all. Forgetting why she even grabbed the device in the first place, Y/n noted the time and tossed it back on the nightstand. 

It was officially after midnight. Well, technically it was almost twelve-thirty which meant it was Jensen’s birthday. Y/n had found it funny when he had called his mother earlier to let her know that the baby was coming, Jensen had made his stupid joke only to have his face fall when Donna had laughed a little too hard. Her husband was caught up thinking about his mother and teasing the older woman that it didn’t even cross his brain what Y/n going to labor meant for him. Now, as she found herself nearly seven centimeters dilated as the clock turned into the new day, it seemed their baby would share its birthday with their father. 

Jensen came back then, breaking her out of her thoughts but unable to knock the warm smile from her face. He walked around to her side and perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under him as he faced her. Y/n took a drink of the cool liquid, relishing in the calm it brought her. 

“What is that smile about?” He had an equally bright smile of his own, unable to contain it as he watched his wife. 

“Nothing just… happy birthday,” the pregnant woman shrugged in her seat, her eyes casting down to wear her hands now cradled her bump. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his heart feeling so whole when he thought about it that it felt as though it might burst from his ribcage. There was so much love for the woman in front of him, he didn’t know what to do with it. It scared him sometimes. It didn’t matter what was happening at the moment, but he could look at her and he would forget for a second that the world existed outside them and all he knew was that she made everything okay. His heart would skip a beat so fast he barely noticed and the urge to cry became overwhelming. Only this time, he refused to fight it, allowing a few tears to well up in his eyes. 

“What’s this about?” Y/n sat up, concern now etched into her features as she brought herself close enough to her husband that she could wipe away the single tear that had escaped down his cheek with her thumb. She had caught sight of it, of course, even in the low light of the room. In the few silent seconds that he sat there smiling, she felt warm under his stoic gaze, unsure of what was going on in that head of his. Jensen shook his head, his smile still not faltering. 

“I love you,” he said simply. 

“I love you, too,” Y/n agreed, her concern melting away and taking with it the crease in her brow. Her husband cradled her face in his hands, pulling her face up to press his lips to hers. He poured every emotion that was currently making him dizzy into that kiss, afraid that if he didn’t, she would never know. But she did know, and though Y/n didn’t need more than those three words, she couldn’t deny him the release he so evidently needed. The desperation seeped from his every pore as his lips brushed against hers, unwilling to part until the need for air overtook everything else. 

A gentle knock on the door snapped his brain back down to Earth. Jensen released his hold on her face, watching as it took her a second longer to open her eyes once they parted. He cleared his throat before calling out.

“Come in.”

Their midwife, Melek, snuck into the room, not making a sound as she closed the door behind her. She turned the lights up just a touch, giving the couple a warning beforehand. 

“Hey, I’m just back to check your progress,” she snatched a pair of gloves from their place in one of the drawers and came to the side of the bed Jensen was still perched on. He moved out of her way as Y/n scooted down the bed slightly. Melek asked Y/n how she was feeling as she went about her work. The midwife listened and nodded along to everything she explained. 

“Well, we are getting very close. Based on how you’ve progressed so far, this baby could be here in the next couple of hours. You are going to start feeling the urge to push soon, might feel like you have to poop, don’t ignore that or any other changes you notice.” Melek stood from the bed and tossed her gloves before washing her hands. She made a note on the whiteboard in the room before coming back over to the couple. 

“You are welcome to continue relaxing, whatever feels best. However, if you feel up to it, I would suggest taking a walk in the garden. I know it’s cold and late, but it will help to energize you before the big work starts.”

“Thank you. Is that safe?” Y/n was adjusting her nightgown back into place as she talked. 

“Yes, if you choose to take a walk, I would go now. No longer than twenty minutes outside and I will be back in another hour,” Their midwife confirmed. The couple nodded in acknowledgment of her words, offering her more words of ‘thanks’ as she exited the suite. 

“Well, what do you think, momma?” Jensen put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her. 

“Couldn’t hurt,” Y/n shrugged. She offered him an innocent smile. “Help me put on my shoes?” 

“Deal.”

****

A low groan emanated from her chest as she battled through her current contraction. Her hands were locked around Jensen’s neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. The actor was rocking her back and forth, once again applying counterpressure to her lower back.

“Oh god, I feel nauseous,” Y/n breathed out as the contraction subsided. She let up on the weight she had been putting on her husband.

“That’s normal though, right?”

“Yeah, I was just venting,” she let the air out of her lungs rush past her lips. “I don’t expect you to do anything about it.” Her words were clipped as they tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. The laboring woman cringed as she felt her husband stiffen underneath her. The soda had popped. Her movements were hesitant as she raised her head to look at him, regret written across her face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you are allowed to do whatever you want to me today.” The smile that graced his lips was tight, but she suspected it was more from the exhaustion than anything. She could see the heaviness in his eyes. 

“No, it’s not. Come on, yell at me. Tell me you don’t need that shit because you were just trying to be helpful,” she pleaded with him, the guilt heavy in her chest. 

“You want me to pick a fight with you while you are in labor?” Amusement was heavy in his words. 

“Yeah, please? I deserve it. You are being far too nice to me.”

“It’s not happening. Sorry, babe.” Y/n growled in frustration, causing her husband to throw his head back and laugh. 

The sound of yet another knock had her releasing her grip on her husband as she called the midwife in. It was time for the hourly check of her labor progression, a task that Y/n had grown a distinct distaste for. As the hours came and went and it felt like nothing was happening, it all just felt pointless. At this point, she was begging this kid to come out. 

Melek made quick work of the check, a smile on her face after when she pulled off her gloves. “Seems as though it’s time, momma. You are fully dilated. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh,” Y/n shared a look with her husband as their midwife headed over to the tub on the opposite side of the room and started the water. She gave a quick synopsis of what had happened in the last hour before asking, “Are we pushing now?” 

“We can start. Sounds like you’ve already had some urges to. Right now it’s about listening to your body and what it’s telling you. I’m going to grab the nurse while you get in the water.” Melek left the water running and the couple dumbstruck. 

“Okay, I guess this is happening,” Y/n scoffed, allowing her husband to help her from the bed. He stripped down to his boxer briefs while she slipped off the gown she was wearing, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. Jensen helped her into the tub and down to sit between his legs. As the water reached its max level, he stopped the tap and urged her to sit back against his chest. 

True to her word, Melek was back in no time with a nurse and everything else they would need. They flourished around the room, getting ready as yet another contraction hit. Y/n’s grip on her husband tightened, her mind focused on one thing now. Jensen was whispering in her ear, helping to guide her breaths. Y/n gave in to the urge to push, more than ready now to have this over with. The pattern was quick and repeated itself again, and then again, and again. 

The time clicked away on the clock on the far wall, each passing minute mocking the laboring woman as it turned over the hour. If she had thought she was exhausted before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Sweat dripped from her forehead, small tendrils of hair that had fallen from the bun on top of her head stuck to her flushed skin. She dropped her head onto her husband’s shoulder, soft pants passing her lips as she tried to relax before the next contraction hit. 

Only it didn’t take long, the pain returning before she even had time to think. The contraction had her doubling in on herself, concentrating on bearing down. Her scream originated low in her chest, the sound of it low as it echoed out in the room. Y/n knew that Melek was coaching her, but she couldn’t hear the words anymore, her body too far spent. 

“I can’t,” As the contraction dissipated, she threw her head back and hid her face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. 

“You can, Y/n. Your body was made to do this,” Melek encouraged, a hand on the poor woman’s shoulder. Y/n swatted it away as she let out another sob. 

“No, I can’t. I’m too tired,” her shoulders shook as she let it all out. Jensen turned and placed a kiss on her temple. 

“Honey, if anyone can do this it’s you,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you’re tired and that means you are ready to quit, but you can’t, not yet. Just think about holding our baby in your arms, you are so close.” 

Another sob shook through her as she indicated her disagreement with his words. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt but Y/n had never felt so defeated in her life. This was finally it and she couldn’t do it. 

“Look at me, Y/n.” He waited for her eyes to open and focus on him. “You can and you will. I’m right here, I’ve got you. You are gonna push this baby out and we are gonna love it so much all this will be a distant memory. Nothing else will matter but the life we created.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” she hiccuped out with a laugh. Jensen chuckled along with her, offering another kiss to her temple. They nodded at each other, silent words being passed between them just before the next contraction hit. This time she put all her energy behind it, refusing now to be defeated. It was far from easy, but only she could do it now. 

She couldn’t be sure how many contractions later it happened, the only thing she was sure of was the instant relief that washed over her body. Her eyes snapped open as Melek pulled her gook covered baby from the warm water of the tub, holding up its long body so both her and Jensen could see. 

“It’s a boy!” Melek announced, placing the infant against Y/n’s bare chest. It all happened in a second and Y/n was holding her son in her arms. Jensen was peppering her face with kisses and muttering soft praises, his arms wrapped around her and helping the nurse wipe the baby clean. More sobs racked her body as soft cries came from the tiny body in her arms. Everything felt like too much like her whole being was vibrating on some new frequency she didn’t yet understand. It was invigorating and terrifying at the same time. 

“I told you!” Y/n turned to look at her husband, the sobs that had been shaking through her now intermixed with soft laughter.

“Yeah, you did, babe. I’ll promise to never question you again,” the smile on his face grew as soon as he realized what she was talking about. The giggles coming from his wife seemed to seep into him and soon he was laughing along with her. 

Y/n feigned a scoff, chuckles still seeping past her lips and a beautiful smile on her lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ackles.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

****

It took a while before anyone was able to pry her son from her arms and even then, she refused to give up to anyone besides Jensen. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the nurse or midwife, she just felt that if she gave him up, the feeling in her chest would go with him. Only the soft voice of her husband was able to coax her out of the bubble she had wrapped herself into. Reluctantly, she handed the infant off to her husband who passed him on to be weighed and measured. 

The nurse was then able to help her out of the tub and into the shower, washing away the remnants of her son’s birth from her body. In that short amount of time, she ached to hold her son again. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything besides him, and it pissed her off. She didn’t feel in control of herself, consumed by the maternal instincts now flooding her neurons. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Jensen was propped up against the headboard, his legs casually crossed at the ankle in front of him. Discarded still at the foot of the bed was his shirt he had peeled away before they had gotten into the tub, but he had slipped his Nike joggers back on his tall frame. His large hands dwarfed their son, who was only in a diaper, where Jensen held him against his chest. The couple shared a smile before she made her way over to him, climbing gingerly into the bed next to her husband and son. Y/n curled herself into his side as the nurse left them to be alone. 

“Nine pounds and seven ounces, twenty-one inches long,” Jensen smirked down at the sleeping infant. Y/n choked out a breath, her jaw dropping open in the process. 

“Jesus, I’m never gonna be the same,” she blew out a breath. The tired woman laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her sleeping child. She could feel her husband shaking softly with laughter. Mostly, she was just as amused as him, but on the other hand, she wasn’t kidding. 

As she settled into her spot, their son began to stir, his face scrunching into a frown. Jensen moved quickly, pulling the kid away and offering him to his mother. 

“What, the first time he even indicates he might cry and you immediately hand him over to me?” Y/n leans away from her husband, a confused frown etched into her features. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t have the goods,” the Texan flicked his eyes down at her chest before looking back at her face. He had one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Okay, how do you even know he’s hungry? Maybe he needs to be changed?” 

“He’s fresh out of the womb and hasn’t eaten anything, you do the math,” Jensen held him out again. Y/n rolled her eyes for effect when the truth was she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that baby again. 

“Well go get the midwife, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Y/n tilted her head towards the door. She had one hand cradling the infant and her other was working to pull her gown away from her chest. 

“Right,” he bounded from the bed, grabbing his shirt as he went and pulling it over his head. The door barely had time to shut behind him before he was returning, Melek in tow. The midwife was more than helpful, guiding Y/n and her baby through their first feeding. It took them a few tries before it seemed like they finally got the hang of it. Melek left them again to the peace of the early morning. 

The sun had yet to breach the horizon but that didn’t stop the birds from putting on a show outside. Jensen had climbed back into bed with his family, situating himself as close as possible to his wife. It gave him the best vantage to watch the miracle they had created. He rested his hand on the baby’s head, rubbing his thumb across the infant’s hair. 

Y/n didn’t even bother averting her gaze as her husband nestled into her side. She was far too transfixed on her son. Every emotion felt magnified a thousand times since she gave birth, to the point where she felt like she might burst. It was hard to sort through them, the exhaustion of her body not helping at all. Now, as she stared down at the precious life she and Jensen had created, the only thing she felt was calm. His eyes were closed as he fed, the soft gurgles and breaths he let out the only noise in the suite. 

“He’s perfect,” she mumbled to no one in particular, she just felt it needed to be said. 

“He really is,” Jensen agreed. “I had no doubt, which is why I got you this.” Y/n tore her eyes away then as Jensen procured a long velvet case from behind him. He offered the object to Y/n who took it with her free hand. 

“What is this? It’s your birthday today, not mine,” she tried arguing.

“Just open it, you dork. Besides, you’ve already given me the best gift I could ever have,” Jensen urged her to open it. His eagerness washed off him as he smiled at her, his hand back on his son’s head. 

Being careful to not jostle the child eating in her arms, Y/n used both hands to flip open the case. Laying against a dark cushion inside was a gold bracelet with a row of seven round stones in the center. She caught the card that was placed inside when it tried to fall away, reading the small paragraph. 

‘Customised with seven beautifully crafted semi-precious stones amidst a string of shimmering beads. Each stone is traditionally associated with various characteristics that also typify those born in that particular month – The March birthstone is Aquamarine, which has a pale blue appearance and symbolizes honesty, loyalty, and happiness.’

The tears fell from her eyes as she read, threatening to turn into full-blown sobs. Y/n sniffed as her emotions continued to get the better of her, using the end of the blanket to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Happiness. There wasn’t anything she could think of better to describe how she was feeling. It was indescribable happiness that had begun on that New Year’s Eve two years ago and continues through the life she now held in her arms. It was happiness she feared she would never get to experience, and yet, here she was. 

“Jay, this is beautiful. But how-”

“I ordered one for February too, can’t be too careful,” he answered before she could ask, earning a giggle from his wife. “You really like it?” 

“Honey, I love it. I can’t imagine a more perfect gift.”

“Here,” Jensen pushed away from the headboard and offered his hand to take the case from her. She handed it back to him, allowing him to take the delicate bracelet from its setting. He urged her to raise her arm, making quick work of clasping the piece of jewelry around her right wrist. “There, perfect.”

“Perfect,” she agreed. 

****

The midwife cleared Y/n and the baby to go home just before noon that day. They had spent less than twenty-four hours in the birthing center, but as she dressed her son to go home she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to miss it. That stupid little room now held so much meaning to her, and she hated it. The exhaustion and hormones were making her stupidly sentimental. 

As they turned into their driveway, Jensen was forced to pull their SUV into the yard since the entirety of their driveway was filled with cars. He hopped out of the driver’s seat to help Y/n from the car before grabbing the car seat with their son inside. Her husband allowed her to waddle along in front of him, a smirk on his lips when she looked over her shoulder before opening the gate to their home. 

Across the stone courtyard, she could see their family all huddled in front of the expansive window that saw into their living room. Everyone waved excitedly as the new family made their way towards the house. Y/n took in the faces of her and Jensen’s parents, along with her brothers and their families. Jensen’s siblings were too far out to make it right now, but even still Y/n was surprised to see her brothers. Donna and Alan had come down as soon as they called to let them know Y/n was in labor, staying in their guestroom for the coming week to help the new parents adjust. She expected her parents too, even though they couldn’t stay longer than the night, rooming in Jared’s guesthouse and leaving in the morning. But yeah, her brothers were a surprise. 

The family was greeted and the door, an array of excited faces welcoming them home. Someone had hung a ‘congratulations’ banner, with a matching ‘happy birthday’ one just below it. Everyone wrapped the new mother up in a tight embrace before passing her along to the next family member while the kids swarmed Jensen and the baby. It took quite some convincing from the parents to quiet down the little ones, all excited to meet their new cousin and forgetting that they needed to chill out as he was sleeping currently. 

“Alright,” Jared’s voice broke above the commotion of multiple conversations. “As the godfather and the whole reason this child even exists, I call dibs on holding him first!” He looked to his sister, his brows high on his forehead as he waited for her answer. 

“You all are going to get a turn, I don’t care who goes first. But stop saying you are the reason he exists, it’s weird… ” She waved him on before adding, “and don’t forget the sanitizer.”

Jensen lifted the car seat to the island as Jared bounced over to him. He literally was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his sister rolling her eyes as she followed behind him. The giant of a man moved delicately as he pulled the sleeping infant from the car seat. If she had thought her son looked small in her husband’s arms, it had nothing on how he looked compared to Jared. He took the newborn over to sit on the couch, all the cousin’s swarming him in no time. 

“You need anything?” Jensen put his hand on her lower back to bring her attention from their family to him. 

“A water?” She suggested as she looked over to him, knowing she would need it sooner rather than later. He nodded and turned to grab a water bottle for her. A soft ‘oh’ had her turning her head back towards her husband. Jensen stepped out of the way to show her their freezer full of Tupperware of different foods. 

“We all made a few things for the freezer. I know Donna is staying with you for a little while, but once she is gone, you’ll thank me,” Y/n’s mother appeared next to her. 

“Thanks, mom,” Once again she found herself fighting back the tears as she pulled her mother into a tight embrace. Sharon ran her hands up and down her daughter’s back as the younger woman refused to let go. Half of it was not wanting to let go, the other half was hiding her tears in the black sweater her mother wore. When she finally relented, Jensen was standing there with a tissue. He offered it to his wife who took it with a sheepish smile before he also hugged his mother-in-law. 

The group in the kitchen returned to the living room where the rest of the family was, fussing over the baby. Jensen sat down in his chair near the fireplace that was angled to where the rest of the family was on or near the couch. He grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled down along with him, situating her into his lap. The new mother fidgeted in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. 

“Would you stop that?” Jensen’s voice was low in her ear as he squeezed her legs in a vain attempt to hold her still. 

“I-,” She shifted again with a soft sigh before turning to whisper in his ear. “I’m very sore down there, and your legs are not the most comfortable right now.” His lips formed a thin line as he nodded. Before she could say anything else, he lifted and moved them both so she was situated in between him and the side of the chair, effectively taking the pressure off of her sensitive area. 

“Better?” 

“God yes,” she huffed before snuggling into his side. The couple watched content as their family traded their son around. The looks of amazement from the kids and the near tears from the adults filled her heart more than she imagined it could have ever been before. Just when she thought it was full, it somehow found room for more love and happiness. 

“So, have you two decided on a name yet?” Sharon spoke up as he was passed to her. The older woman was gently bouncing on her feet, her husband peering over her shoulder. 

The new parents shared a look, unsure which of them should answer the question to the information they had filled out in his birth certificate just before leaving for home. Everyone had been asking since they got the news he was officially here, though the couple didn’t have an answer as they struggled to come up with something. Jensen tilted his head to her, signaling that she should answer. 

“Yes, after an agonizing two hours of staring at him and willing him to tell us what his name should be, we finally picked one,” Y/n explained, her husband chuckling next to her at the memory of her talking to him as he slept. “His name is Ezra Jay Ackles.” 

There were murmured compliments and agreements that the name more than fit the little bundle of joy they had just welcomed into their family. Sharon passed Ezra on to his other grandmother, the woman giddy as she took over baby holding duty. Ezra had woken up by now, his dark eyes searching and unsure of the commotion around him, but he had yet to fuss. 

“Did you go with Jay because he looks just like Jensen?” she questioned, not taking her eyes off the infant in her arms. 

“Ugh don’t remind me,” Y/n huffed, her face scrunched up at her mother-in-law’s words. 

“Hey, I thought you liked the way I looked,” Jensen pouted next to her, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. 

“That’s not the point. It would be just my luck that I carried him for nine months, was in labor for over eighteen hours while also needing to feed him every two hours, for him to look just like his dad. Where’s the justice in that?” Y/n frowned as her family laughed at her confession. 

“Welcome to my world,” Gen piped up. “All of them, little clones of their dad.” The Padalecki women all nodded in agreement to that sentiment, much to the annoyance of their husbands. 

“Hey, the Padalecki genes are strong, we can’t help it,” Jared protested, making Jensen throw his head back in laughter. 

“If that’s true then I guess the Ackles genes are even stronger,” the new father countered, earning a shove from his wife. 

“Alright you two, put the rulers away,” her joke got the rest of the room cackling at the boys’ expense. That satisfied the woman more than she would ever admit. 

Not long after the reveal of their baby’s name, the family began to pack things up and head out. It had been a busy and tiring twenty-four hours for the new little family, and their loved ones headed out to give them some peace. Once everyone was gone, Alan offered to go to the store and grab something to whip up for dinner, leaving just Donna with the new parents. 

“Y/n, honey, why don’t you go lay down. I know you haven’t really slept since yesterday,” Donna piped up, noting how the woman’s eyes were getting heavy. She was curled up on the couch next to her husband who was holding their son once again. Donna was picking up the mess left by the family. 

“Mmm that sounds good but he will have to feed soon, I should just stay here,” Y/n answered with a hum. She couldn’t deny, a nap sounded wonderful but everything was about Ezra and his needs now. 

“Couldn’t we just give him a bottle?” Jensen asked, earning a shake of the head from both of the women in the room. 

“No, if you guys are committed to breastfeeding, she’s got to get her milk supply in and the best way to do that is for him to feed. Also, there is nipple confusion,” Donna stated matter of fact with Y/n nodding along the whole time. 

“Nipple confusion?” Jensen looked to his wife, confusion written all over his face. The term sounded familiar to the actor, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a definition. 

“It means that Ezra could get confused between the bottle and the breast, and the concern is that he would prefer the bottle,” Y/n explained, her hand absentmindedly running along her son’s cheek.

Jensen nodded in understanding and shrugged, “Not if he’s my son.” 

The new mother reared back in confusion. “Why?” was the only thing Y/n could say after she and Donna looked at him with equal disgust and disappointment. Jensen grimaced under their looks before she continued. “Your mother is in the room.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t know why I said it,” the look of shame on his face morphed into fear as he prepared for a scolding, but that moment never came. Instead, Donna stood and walked over to where they were seated. 

“Alright, give me the kid,” the older Mrs. Ackles reached out for her grandson. Jensen gave him up without question. “Both of you need to sleep. Don’t worry, I will come and get you if he gets hungry.” 

“It’s best not to argue with her when she makes that face,” Jensen muttered under his breath, but not so quiet that his mother didn’t hear him. She raised her brow at him, an action that was remarkably similar to the one Jensen often emulated. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Y/n agreed, allowing her husband to help her to her feet. Jensen gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek in passing as he pulled his wife along with him to their bedroom. 

Inside the curtains were still drawn from when they had left yesterday, only a small sliver of light peeking into the room from its edges. Neither of them bothered with changing, knowing it was too much work for now. Instead, Jensen just turned down the bed, allowing them to slip under the cool covers. He settled into the pillows, lifting his arm to invite her back to his side. Of course, she obliged, snuggling into his chest with one hand placed where she could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips. 

Jensen wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting against her arm, rubbing soft circles against her skin. He stared up at the ceiling in the semi-dark room, watching the spinning blades of their ceiling fan make countless revolutions. His mind was racing, all the emotions of the last day starting to get to him now that he had nothing else to focus on. 

Y/n was silent as well, but he knew she hadn’t fallen asleep yet, her body still too tense to have fully succumbed to the exhaustion. If he wanted to ever get some shut-eye, he knew he had to get some things off his chest. He needed to let go. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” There was a gruff undertone to his voice, yet it still managed to be soft as he sought to not startle his wife. She hummed in response, letting him know she was listening. “Our first night together. Well, after… everything.” 

“How so?” Y/n shifted so she could have a better view of her husband who now had her full attention. 

“I couldn’t sleep then either. Too much going on in my head,” Jensen took a deep breath, his eyes still on the ceiling as he continued. “I kind of have this tendency to push all my emotions to the side to deal with them another time, even if that other time never comes, but that night, I just… I couldn’t get myself to do it. As I stared down at you, sleeping against my chest with that stupid little content smile on your face, I realized that you were worth all of it, every emotion: the fear, the anxiety, and even the guilt; they were all worth feeling for you.”

The crease in her brow deepened as her husband confessed to her what he went through that night. Jensen looked down at her then, a smile on his face and tears once again pooling in his eyes. He brought up his hand to caress her cheek before continuing. 

“I never believed in love at first sight, hell, I still don’t, because even through all of that fear and anxiety what I felt most of all was love, and that didn’t happen overnight. It happened in the weeks we had spent in the makeup trailer, in the way you trusted me with the things you wouldn’t even tell your brother, and in your sarcastic comebacks that never failed to surprise me. I spent weeks falling in love with you and didn’t even realize it.”

“The only thing I could do was watch you sleep, so irrevocably in love with you that I was scared if I pushed away those bad feelings… if I didn’t consider every possible thing that could wrong from that moment on, that I would lose the best thing in my life now, so that’s what I did, just watched you sleep and go over every possible scenario my mind could come up with of how us being together could go wrong. I know...” He had to stop again, needing a moment to take a shuddering breath. “I know that day when I told you we needed a break hurt you and made you question everything I ever said to you and sure we’re past it now, but I really need you to know that when I came to you that next morning and asked you to go on one date with me, I didn’t make that decision lightly. I had decided before you even tried to sneak out of the guesthouse that you were worth everything.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” After he was silent for a moment, she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Because I… I feel so much right now that I can’t shut it out. The love I feel for you and our son right now, I want to stay in that feeling forever. Even if it means facing every fear or anxiety over making sure you both are safe and happy and thriving. I just had to let you know that you two are my whole world now and I will spend the rest of my life never letting you forget it,” Jensen confessed, allowing the tears that he had been biting back now flow freely. Deep down he knew it was what he needed, that release of every emotion before he could truly relax. Just like she also knew that the time for words was over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she nuzzled back into his side, pressing her cheek against his chest to listen to his heart again. Y/n knew it wasn’t easy for her husband to admit all of that to her. Those true moments where he exposed himself fully to her were rare. Not that she minded, Y/n didn’t need him to cut out his heart and serve it on a silver platter. Her husband was a man of action. He showed her all she needed to know in every first cup of coffee he brings her in the mornings or running her a bath when she needs time alone. Marriage is as much about the little things as it is about any grand declaration. If you asked Y/n, she would take the soft smiles and lingering touches over a grand speech any day, but this was nice too. 

Part 12: Home

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @cno92​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @spndestiellover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @linki-locks11​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x sister!padalecki #jared padalecki x sister!reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural rpf #rpf #real person fiction #supernatural real person fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn rpf #spn #alex writes #mine #happiness continues

[secret-engima]

In your LC Birbs verse, what would have happened if Ardyn had found Ozpin before Ramuh had intervened?

hgfgf forgive how long I’ve been perching on this ask but it’s just- has many possible answers and so I was hoarding it a little. Also I shall proceed to meet timeline for the sake of Prompto’s existence, just be aware XD.

-If Ardyn had found Ozpin before Ramuh had, he would have likely been in denial at first. He would have likely just been skulking around during a bout of restlessness, since as the Accursed sleep isn’t really an option very often, and found this isolated clone tank. Because the clone in that tank is dark skinned, at first he wouldn’t even have suspected the child was his. But then Ozpin, dimly sensing magic outside his tank and desperate to be free of this constant sedated haze, reaches out and Ardyn.

-Freezes.

-He knows that magic.

-He presses close to the tank, hands rising up to shakily touch the cold glass as the little one inside (probably only about half a year old in this AU? If that) stirs faintly. Gold eyes fight open to half-lidded cracks, and little fingers struggle through the haze of sedation to reach for Ardyn on an almost subconscious need-help-please-please. Ardyn feels his breath stutter as he looks at those gold, gold eyes and feels magic that burns slightly at his Scourge in a mix of LC-Oracle-Ardyn-Aera and feels the pieces collide.

-He yanks himself away from the tank and stalks away. It can’t be. It can’t be. The Scourge is toying with his mind again, making him see things, feel things.

-He mentally slaps at the magic that desperately reaches for him, and tells himself he feels no regret when it turns from hopeful-pleading to terrified and shrinks away.

-Ardyn tells himself he was imagining things for a month. Maybe two. Maybe far more than that, time is so hard for him to grasp. He tries to forget. But he can’t. He obsesses. The sight of the child in the tank haunts him whenever his eyelids shut, burns at him whenever he visits the lab after and catches a flicker of magic before it vanishes again.

-Finally, the need to know is too great. He returns and breaks into Besithia’s private office. He sorts through the papers about the MT project with growing frustration, yanks open locked drawers with raw strength of the desperate and paws through files of words that make little sense until he finds it.

-Project: Remnant stares back at him, a collection of photos of the tank child, of reports of various infant experiments that he cannot fully understand but sound like they would hurt (for doesn’t even the mildest strike of electricity hurt no matter how ultimately harmless it is?) and ... his origins. A project to clone the Accursed (to clone ARDYN) and while he doesn’t understand all the fancy words and self boasting littered in the reports, he understands the gist. That the initial clones all failed, daemonified within days. That Besithia had to eventually combine two extra strands of DNA in order to stabilize the child now in the tank. One of those strands was just a placeholder, a sample he had on hand that is at fault for the subject’s dark skin. The other strand-

-Tombs of the Oracles. The First Oracle.

-Aera.

-Aera-Aera-her-child-his-child-AERA’SCHILD

-Things get hazy. He remembers standing in Besithia’s quarters while the man writhed and screamed and paid for daring to desecrate Aera’s grave. He remembers setting ... a lot of things on fire, his armiger tearing open the walls as he raged.

-He remembers the crash of glass and black blood pouring from his arms before they healed as he pulled Aera’s drugged child free of the tank. The little one was so small, so alone, and somewhere with that thought in his head he thinks he snatched up another child on the way even though it was of Besithia’s blood, because there’s a screaming in his head that isn’t human but isn’t entirely the insanity of daemons insisting that hatchlings need playmates to grow up properly.

-He comes back to himself far away from the ruins of the laboratory, trekking through the wilderness with not one, but two children in his arms, one of them an infant barely a few months old. The other is his- is Aera’s- is their son. The infant is shivering and he takes a moment to securely wrap it in a spare coat (he didn’t intend to steal one of Besithia’s little MTs but he did and so this child is HIS now) before inspecting his blood child. The little boy is still drugged into sleep, unresponsive to Ardyn’s careful prodding, and Ardyn feels something inside him crack in pain as he inspects and realizes that the boy is no longer an infant, but a toddler. Perhaps two years old, bordering on three even.

-How long had he spent running away in denial while Aera’s child floated in that tank at Besithia’s mercy? Too long. Unforgivably long.

-“Oh my little one,” he breathes hoarsely, “Oh Aera. I abandoned our son. I would strike myself down were he not in need of me.”

-He carts both children through the wilds, slinking into the nearest town only to steal as many supplies as he can before flitting away again. The blond infant he’s stolen is not drugged and so wake up periodically. Ardyn had no real intention of getting attached, but his own son has reawakened things inside him, and the realization that this tiny infant is already well trained to not cry even when hungry or in discomfort makes his stomach churn and his armiger flicker briefly into being. He tries to distract himself from his worries over his sleeping son by fussing over the infant, making silly faces and cooing as he tends the infant who will be his own child’s playmate and little foster sibling. The little one needs a name.

-He will decide later. He must name Aera’s child first.

-He must ensure Aera’s child is alright first.

-The toddler finally wakes up on the second day of their travels, sluggish and confused. Ardyn feels precious, precious magic unfurl sleepily, tentatively little fingers of energy trying to pinpoint his new surroundings. Ardyn reaches back, eagerly, instinctively.

-The flinch from his son as gold eyes snap awake in fear, the way too-young magic all but recoils from him, hurts worse than Somnus’s blade through his heart all those centuries ago. The toddler in his arms gasps faintly, looking around, wide awake and confused-afraid. Ardyn shakes free of his shock and tries to hum a soothing note, but all it gets him is his child clumsily trying to raise his arms over his head like he expects a blow.

-Ardyn remembers that first meeting, that first sighting in the tank, the way magic had reached for him half asleep and needy and so vulnerable.

-He remembers how he had lashed out and slapped it away.

-It’s painfully, achingly, burningly clear that his son remembers it too, even though he shouldn’t, even though he should be too young to recall that horrible mistake, and Ardyn has to fight to breathe past the guilt screaming in his skull even louder than the Scourge. He can’t lose his mind, not yet, not again. He can’t lose his mind or run away or try fruitlessly to execute himself for the crime of hurting Aera’s child, because the little one (little ones, he hasn’t forgotten the burbling infant) need a caretaker and Ardyn is the only one (the only one who knows, who can be trusted, a magic child will suffer if given to non magical parents and he wouldn’t trust Somnus’s bloodline as far as he could throw Ifrit).

-He talks soothingly, mindlessly, trying to get the toddler in his arms to uncurl. He does eventually, looking around in fear-confusion, but his magic stays coiled tight inside him, and Ardyn’s tentative poke at it is met with another flinch and a wild-eyed gasp of terror.

...

-Ozpin wakes up and doesn’t know what’s going on or where he is. At first he reaches out, but the moment he brushes up against another, larger, magic, memories of Salem and half-formed impressions of this same magic striking him in anger that might be a dream or might be truth make him retreat and curl in on himself. He feels small, helpless, there is an eerie silence in his head where only faded memories lie instead of a new voice and a new host and he doesn’t understand.

-Talking draws him out of the haze of half-panic, but when large, dangerous magic pokes at his core again he recoils, expecting it to turn into fangs and the burning agony Salem was so very good at unleashing. It’s been so, so long since he felt any other magic than Salem’s or his own that he cannot stop himself from assuming pain will follow. That all magic not his own is intended for pain.

-The man holding him falters in his speech, like he’s in physical pain, and Ozpin uncurls again to peer at him. Is he injured? Who even is he?

-Ardyn, Ozpin learns as they travel. The man’s name is Ardyn, and Ozpin is in a toddler’s body that seems to belong to no one but him, there is another child, a blond infant who doesn’t look like he’s related to Ardyn or Ozpin but is with them anyway, who gurgles too-quiet in the way abused children do. Ozpin thinks, hazily, that this man might have rescued the pair of them from somewhere horrible. Or he might be at fault for that horrible place.

-Ardyn names the infant Prompto, and calls Ozpin “Zagreus” and Ozpin is too wary to tell him he already has a name. They’re traveling through the wilderness, one that Ozpin doesn’t know, and the moon above their heads is strange and unbroken.

-Ardyn has magic. Ozpin is too wary still to do more than flinch and hold painfully, obediently still whenever the man cautiously brushes it against Ozpin’s senses, even though he knows it hurts Ardyn to be rejected so, even though he knows he should be brave and reach out in return, because he doesn’t think this man has ever hurt him. Not yet at least. Not intentionally. The man is terrible at self care, so Ozpin thinks those repeated stretches of forgetting to feet him and Prompto are unintentional. Ozpin works up the nerve to keep track of time himself and repeatedly (hesitantly) tug on Ardyn’s coat when he thinks it’s time to feed Prompto and himself.

-Ardyn calls Ozpin his son. Ozpin has yet to figure out if that’s true or not. If he mingled magic, he’d be able to tell he thinks, because there is a strange new magic woven into his core, bolstering and healing his long-faded green and mingling into it with strands of blue and gold he can see behind his eyelids, but- he can’t.

-Every time he thinks of trying, all he can think of is Salem. And all the ways she killed him. All the times she forced their magics to mingle so he could feel her rage and hate and possessive, poisonous love as she carved him open and ended yet another lifetime.

-It doesn't help that Ardyn is ill. It’s not Grimm Darkness, he thinks after the first three panic attacks that trigger when he glimpses the man’s sickness. But it is very similar. Too similar. A part of Ozpin, his gold magic, itches to reach out and fix it, but after seen Ardyn look more Grimm than man when tearing apart the strange night monsters that sometimes hunt them, it’s all the self control he has not to grab Prompto and run into the wilderness. To let Ardyn pick them up and continue on their way. They will die without Ardyn, he knows that.

-It doesn’t make him any less afraid.

-It takes a long, long time to be able to fight down that fear even a little, to not stiffen in preparation for a strike when shaking hands pet his hair, to not duck his head and breath slow when Ardyn looks at him and speaks to him, trying to coax out a response that remains frozen silent on Ozpin’s tongue. He knows he’s acting poorly. But despite his infection, despite being so very hauntingly like Salem in some ways, Ardyn never loses his temper at either of them. He never turns violent or raises a hand against them, or withholds food or clothes or stuffed toys when Prompto misbehaves or Ozpin once again recoils from the touch of Ardyn’s magic.

-They’re wandering another continent entirely, and Prompto has already started babbling his first choppy words (Ze and Dyn respectively), by the time Ozpin works up the nerve to let his magic out into the air again. To probe at the air around them while Ardyn goes desperately, fragilely still and watches him without daring to reach out for fear of scaring Ozpin. It takes a lot of nerve, but he manages to brush his magic against Ardyn’s in gratitude-trust before retreating again, exhausted from pushing past so many lifetimes of Salem’s pain to do even that. He’ll try actually speaking aloud another day. Maybe.

-A few days later though, Ozpin hears two birds cawing hoarsely in the air and feels something familiar, and suddenly he’s racing away from Ardyn as fast as his tiny legs can carry him, chasing those birds in the sky and reaching for them with magic and need because that feels like-

-The birds plummet from the sky, and a moment later, two scraggly, wild eyed children with black hair and bright red eyes burst out of the underbrush to tackle him with gleeful cries.

-He’s found Raven and Qrow.

#SE asks #shiki-inori asks #Secret Engima Rambles #LC Birds verse #Shadowed Wings verse #oh look spin off au #Hmmmm #Ardynson verse

[joachimnapoleon]

I'm reading a preview of Charles-Eloi Vial's "Histoire des Cent-Jours" on Amazon, in which the author mentions that when Napoleon was on Elba, he reconciled with Murat. Do you know anything about this matter?

The subject of the reconciliation between Napoleon and Murat is one of those things about which I still have as many questions as answers.

Correspondence between the two during Napoleon’s exile on Elba is borderline nonexistent; I haven’t come across any letters from Murat to Napoleon from this time, so unless there’s something locked away in the private Archives Murat in the French National Archives, it probably no longer exists.

But, there was certainly some correspondence between them. There’s really no way to know how much, but Napoleon’s Correspondance Générale contains letters to Murat during the Elban exile and also references to other letters between them made by Napoleon to Bertrand. I was surprised to learn recently--thanks to @josefavomjaaga for sending it to me from her volume of the Correspondance--that Napoleon actually wrote to both Murat and Caroline shortly after his arrival on Elba. Both letters are dated 11 May 1814; Napoleon informs both of them of his having just arrived on Elba. He tells them both of Pauline’s impending arrival and asks for Caroline to send him news through someone she trusts.

Pauline arrives on Elba, and then leaves for Naples almost immediately after; I don’t think she’s on Elba for more than a couple days before she departs for Naples. She remains in Naples for months before her return to Elba, and it’s generally believed that she served as the go-between to effect the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon. It’s assumed she was sending letters back and forth between the two. How many letters? What were the contents? There’s really no way to know. Napoleon references one specific letter from Murat, in September 1814, while writing to Bertrand on 9 September:

I have received a very tender letter from the king of Naples; he claims to have written to me several times but I doubt it, it seems that the affairs of France and Italy set his head straight and make him affectionate.

There’s nothing else until the eve of Napoleon’s departure from Elba. He fires off two letters to Murat on 17 February 1815 to let him know he’s sending him a man by the name of Colonna “in order to communicate to you some important and urgent matters,” no doubt about Napoleon’s upcoming return to France. Colonna, he tells Murat, “is authorized to sign every convention Your Majesty may desire with regards to our affairs…. Your Majesty must in particular trust in everything he tells you about my attachment and the high consideration with which I remain.” The second letter from the same day thanks Murat “for what you have done for the countess Walewska,” reiterates that Colonna is coming and “will tell you some big and important things. I’m counting on you and most importantly on utmost speed. Time is pressing. My love to the queen and to your children.” An undated, ciphered letter from Portoferraio, believed to be written between 22-26 February, tells Murat that he’s just waiting for favorable conditions to make his escape: “The winds have been increasing for the last three days and have forced the English warship to move somewhat away from our shores. But it can return any moment and my brick is not capable of competing with it. If I had one of your vessels, I would leave in broad daylight and I would sink anything that stood in my way.” Murat actually does end up sending a vessel, but by the time it gets to Elba, Napoleon has already left.

So, there probably was more correspondence between them, either written or verbal--but there’s just no record of it.

It’s important to point out that Murat’s “allies” (particularly the British) were looking for any excuse they could find during this period to justify turning on and dethroning him. Proof of a correspondence with Napoleon would’ve given them all the ammunition they needed. This is where it gets interesting. Napoleon will claim later on Saint Helena that the allies “doctored” Murat’s papers (to prove there was a correspondence between the two during the Elban exile). And there is an interesting excerpt from the memoirs of Dedem, who claims that the Congress of Vienna received, via the French Bourbons, copies of letters between Murat and Napoleon, left by a careless person close to Murat. I’m assuming that this individual (whom Dedem leaves unnamed save his first initial) is M. de Baudus, former tutor of the Murat children, sent by Napoleon to Toulon as an intermediary after Murat’s defeat at Tolentino; Baudus was to inform Murat that Napoleon would not receive him in Paris, that he was to stay put for the time being under a sort of house arrest while events played themselves out (Napoleon was on the way to Waterloo), and that Napoleon blamed Murat for having “ruined” France in 1814 and having “compromised her and ruined himself” in 1815. Anyway, here is the excerpt from Dedem:

The Tuileries cabinet had sent copies of his correspondence with Napoleon, and it was on these certified copies that Joachim was tried and condemned. Well, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the Count de B… who forgot (in following the King to Ghent) all his correspondence in an armoire at the chateau, we now know that all these letters had been truncated. Napoleon found the originals with the minutes of the copies drawn up in a way which served to lose Joachim; all the copies were in the hand of M. de B… attached by pins to the letters of the King of Naples.

Dedem includes the following footnote at the end of this paragraph:

It is from a man very worthy of trust, whom Napoleon had recalled to him in his cabinet during the Hundred Days and who neither loved nor complained of Joachim, that I have these details. He assured me that he had seen and re-read the letters several times.

So the Bourbons either found enough damning correspondence between Murat and Napoleon--or altered it enough to make it look damning--and sent it on to the Congress of Vienna so they could justify removing Murat from his throne once and for all.

Now, as to the matter of how sincere the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon was… that’s another story. Louise Murat’s take is that the reconciliation was more sincere on her father’s part than on Napoleon’s:

So it was not long before the reconciliation took place and, if we can affirm that, for his part, it was as complete as possible, I do not know if… we will be able to affirm likewise that all traces of the past were also erased from the Emperor’s mind.

This subject bears some remarking on the relationship between the two men in general. There was a lot of bad blood between them by the time of Napoleon’s first exile, going back years before Murat’s treaty with Austria in 1814. Murat had felt ill-used and mistreated by Napoleon since at least 1809, things had gotten downright ugly between them in 1811, and in the aftermath of the 1812 campaign Murat was increasingly resentful of Napoleon’s treatment of him. Napoleon, for his part, had been incapable of trusting Murat since being informed, in 1809, of a scheme between Fouché and Talleyrand to have Murat succeed him in the event that Napoleon died without a legitimate male heir; much of his conduct towards Murat from that time forward comes across as deliberately spiteful and intentionally humiliating. Murat was vain and proud and it took him a long time to get over these kinds of slights and embarrassments. But, he was also capable of forgiving people he believed had wronged him--for example, Murat had restored Lavauguyon to his service years later after having suspected him of having an affair with Caroline in 1811. And I personally believe he retained a certain amount of affection for Napoleon even in spite of their nearly constant quarrels, and kept hoping to find some way to regain Napoleon’s affections, which he felt he had lost without ever quite understanding why; he concludes a letter to Napoleon in 1810 with “Love me as in Poland, as in Prussia, and I will love life again.” He didn’t enter into his decision to leave Napoleon in 1814 easily, and from everything I’ve seen it seems to have been extremely agonizing for him, and the news that the Allies had driven Napoleon from his throne and into exile in 1814 devastated both Murat and Caroline.

All of that being said, there was still some amount of self-interest in Murat’s attempting to aid Napoleon in 1815, and also in his striking out against the Austrians shortly after Napoleon reached France. Caroline believed that Napoleon would eventually drive them from the throne of Naples if he managed to keep his own, and Murat himself very likely saw the reason in this, and hoped he might safeguard himself by claiming all of Italy.

For Napoleon’s part, I tend to think Louise Murat was probably right; I think he saw Murat, being the only member of his family still on a throne, as a useful tool for his own eventual restoration. There’s a footnote in Bertrand’s Saint Helena cahiers basically saying that Napoleon never gave any indication of having genuinely forgiven Murat for 1814, and I personally think that’s probably the case. In mid-April of 1815--not even a week after sending Murat a letter from Paris, assuring Murat “You can count on my attachment,” Napoleon sends a note to his Minister of Foreign Affairs ordering a report on Murat’s conduct in 1814. My guess is, if Napoleon had triumphed at Waterloo and secured his throne, Murat still would’ve found himself in a world of hurt eventually. Murat seems to have anticipated this himself; in June 1815--actually the day after Waterloo, about which he was still oblivious--he is writing once more to Napoleon--the last letter he will ever write him--basically offering himself up on a silver platter:

I have nothing more to ask of Your Majesty, he can pronounce my fate unsparingly; your wishes, whatever they may be, will be carried out. Glad to be lost for you, no complaints will be heard from my mouth, but you can dispense with sending me in the future what they want to call consolations by people named as my friends; may your ministers make positively known to me the place of my exile; I will go there without a murmur.

#Joachim Murat #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Pauline Bonaparte #Louise Murat #1814 #1815 #asks