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dfortrafalgar · 8 hours

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Chapter 28

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Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn. Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen. When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation. One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed. “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine. “It happens, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door. He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you. He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor. When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper. You squinted. “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments. He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down. “These are genetic predictions. It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl. Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.” He moved his finger from one scribble to another. “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us. However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes. Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair. At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait. I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right? I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair. If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind. If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be. But again, this is all approximations. So then I started thinking about more technical stuff. I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both. Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss. Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall. Just an interesting thought. Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter. “Law, slow down! Breathe!” Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek. “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table. “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted. “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back. “Nope, I came straight home. I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic. One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied. “It’s hard to stand up. Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand. I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed. The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned. “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly. The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion. “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive. And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off. It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted. “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong. I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out. I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench. “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject. You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you. You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead. You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly. “I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso. The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do. After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips. “Hey, so how’s the studying been? For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks. “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure. I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases. The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before. Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time. Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field. The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face. “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family. I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.

“No, I do, when performing treatments. When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained. He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled. You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it. His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright. Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored. The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about. You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face. You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date. As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career. Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field. You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers. The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled. Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading. Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor. You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month. He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery. What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day? Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up. Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home. The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump. The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen. You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you. “You could say that.” You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated. He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away. “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged. “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate. And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks. “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything. I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’m not expecting anything in return. And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are. Always. Even the changes that come with having a child. You’re always going to be beautiful to me. I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be. The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones. He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries. Likewise, you never removed your glass ring. Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks. “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college. I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up. A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles. It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes. “Can you help me sit down?”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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lulu2992 · 17 days

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(This is a reply to this reblog because the post would have been way too long otherwise)

youtube

You’re right, @purplehairsecretlair; it would make so much more sense if the priest featured in the video was not Jerome! I was ready to accept this headcanon, but then I found the official description of the trailer:

This is about Joseph Seed's journey before he became the Father, before Pastor Jerome was forced to forfeit his status as shepherd of the County's souls.

So The Baptism is about Joseph “stealing” Jerome’s congregation… That said, I totally agree that this isn’t consistent with the game for several reasons (which you probably already know, but I want to use this opportunity to talk more about the trailer).

First, Joseph found John and Jacob before he started the Project, and they all arrived in Hope County together. In the trailer, however, as you pointed out, he’s alone. We see him creating Eden’s Gate, writing his own holy book, and recruiting his first followers. Also, this shot...

...looks like what the 2nd step of the Pilgrimage tells us in the game:

II. The Cleansing: Joseph Seed affirms his obedience to the Voice by cleansing himself with his own two hands, becoming born again.

Steps III and IV are about him getting his first followers and the Voice telling him about the Collapse, and he only “collects his blood family” at step V, which... I realize is not consistent with The Book of Joseph, unless that means he had already found his brothers and only “[anointed] them as his Heralds” at this point.

Regardless, the story told along the Pilgrimage path isn’t consistent with The Baptism either because he only brings his disciples to Hope County at step VII, but he’s clearly already there in the video. Plus, his Heralds don’t seem to be with him…

I tried looking for more information about the trailer, especially about the cast and characters but, aside from Greg Bryk, I couldn’t find the names of the other actors.

However, I found this. The website says the video has won 25 (in my opinion, well-deserved) awards and provides a synopsis, probably written by DDB Paris, the agency that created the two live-action trailers, The Baptism and The Sermon, for Ubisoft. It says that the little girl is “the daughter of the legitimate priest whose place [Joseph] took, ten years ago”. Far Cry 5 never implies Jerome ever had a child, so I don’t think that’s still canon, but I’m glad we finally know who she is!

I stumbled upon this other article (with a behind-the-scenes picture). It’s in French, so here’s a summary:

It was Ubisoft who “imposed” Greg Byrk on the agency, but the artistic director thought he was “perfect” even though they barely knew him. The copywriter comments he was “very immersed in his role” and “exuded something powerful”.

The video was shot in Canada, in Merritt BC. To help the team, Ubisoft sent them the “huge mood board” they made during their one-year trip to Montana.

Some shots were unscripted, such as the scene with the little girl on the swing.

About 150 people were involved in the project which also required dozens of supply trucks.

Finally, it says the trailer was released 14 months after the first briefing. Jerome and Joseph’s backstories had plenty of time to be rewritten...

I also remember reading this interview with the director on the now-offline UbiBlog years ago. So, in case anyone was wondering (I was), that string of saliva was, in fact, totally unplanned :’)

#(anyway yeah you’re right it would have worked better with the rest of the story if the priest was someone else)#far cry 5 #joseph seed #jerome jeffries #and his unnamed scrapped daughter #I see the sermon has won 10 awards #but the credits suggest there used to be VFX and a nuke in it??#I want to see that!#gifs I made #‘'blood sweat and tears'? how about 'snot spit and tears' instead?’ - greg bryk I guess

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kryptznnn · 10 months

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♛- PLAY-HARD IV

1st part / 2nd part/ 3rd part / 4th part

Series Masterlist ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

➸ INTERESTS; - olo'eyktan!jake x fem! omatikayan reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - working alongside Moat has helped you and your family in various ways, as a way to repay her for your free working she pairs you along side Toruk Makto to aid him in small departments he needs assistance in, but more importantly to find a Tsahik suitable for the Olo'eyktan, but he isn't always cooperative. Thankfully things have turned out for the better, Jake and you being close, but what does that mean for the future of the omatikayan people?

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 3.4k, slight age gap (25 & 21), takes place after the great war, slow burn, arguing, angst, fighting, confessions, crying/tears, mentions of abandonment, screaming, fluff, jake being crazy kinda and y/n being a dick a little, make-up, bruises, injuries⭐️, romantic tension, small kisses.

➸a.i; - had enough fluff and smut i’m an angst kinda lover so i’m gonna hurt all of u guys with this 🙇🏾‍♂️ do not hate me for this i’ll make it up in the next chapter😭 (NOT PROOF READ, i’m literally dead rn i’ll edit more tmrw if anything’s wrong, currently working on chapter 5 and a neteyam drabble so i’ll be updating way more this week).

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

*na’vi translation will be provided*

“Someone seems cheery” Mo’at spoke, upon your arrival to her tent where multiple other women were, either helping injured warriors or practicing their own form of medicine from herbs you originally would use alongside Mo’at. You smiled and greeted her softly, asking her what she meant by her statement.

“Nga tíran nemfa syura txantan na aylahe tsawke” [You walk in, energy brighter than the sun] She rolled her tongue, to which your tail swished slightly, grinning even larger. Understanding what she meant, you practically seemed in a good mood, and more than usual, as if you’ve been spending all morning helping the children in the village, which you’d usually do to start off your day before visiting her (if ewya let you from the late hours you’d wake up).

She just chuckled to herself and saved a seat beside her for you to begin helping her with other warriors and younger women learning the ways and traditions of the tsahik.

Soon after everyone left you stayed afterwards, as always. Already eating another meal and having chats with Mo’at, catching up with one another.

“Have you found someone for the olo’ektyan?” She asked, standing up slowly to begin cleaning the small messes left behind from the previous na’vi inside. You hesitated before answering, not knowing exactly to say. “He’s very difficult, but no I haven’t-“

“No? From the way you’re glowing and the left over evidence of what you two have done are you SURE you haven’t found someone for him?” She laughed, quickly getting a reaction out of you, quickly placing your hands on the side of your neck and collarbone, to which he had left love-bites on.

“We haven’t done anything. He hasn’t done anything, we both remain unmated” You stated, turning your head the other way, not really wanting to get into this type of conversation. “If you do end up mating it must be soon, the clan is in need of a Tsahik, I won’t always be here forever.” She stated sharply, turning to look at you and grabbing a nearby broom, cleaning slowly. “You know better than anyone I’m not prepared to be Tsahik, there are thousands of other na’vi women that could take my place-“

“I’ve raised you for nearly 13 years of your life and taught you all I know, if you aren’t ready now when will you ever be ready?” She asked, quickly cutting you off, you sighed and quickly tied your hair back, beginning to collect the bowls and left over remedies around, knowing she was right. It wasn’t your fault you were scared, you were young and had over 100 years until you’d die from old age and part of you didn’t believe you’d be able to. Maybe you’d let down your clan rather than helping them from the goodness of your heart, you weren’t as strong-hearted and wise as Mo’at, nor as smart and powerful as Jake. Sure you were a skilled shooter, whether with archery or with the earth weapons, Jake himself made sure of that, but fear consumed you. “Maybe it is not the placement of Tsahik you fear, maybe it’s the placement that comes with it..” She pondered, pausing and turning to you, to which you slowly glanced up at her, sighing softly.

“I can serve my people.” You stated, she nodded as if she was waiting for you to repeat those words. “But can you serve your olo’ektyan?” She asked quickly, watching you pause and sit there, your ears lowering slowly as you stood up in front of her, a small pout on your lips. Without a doubt even if you couldn’t always please your people you’d be able to support and help to your best ability, especially in the healing specifics, but things between you and Jake would change, which is something you COULDN’T risk. She finished sweeping and took you into a soft hug, as if she understood the situation you were in and how your mind was. For some reason it’s so much easier to fixate and plan out someone’s life for him on the sidelines, but on the front lines things seemed horrible, especially stress, that was something your simply couldn’t handle.

“You love your people, and you’ve done nothing but love what i’ve taught you and new people that have come into your life, do not be afraid of failure and don’t be afraid of change, be open to i-“

“Is the Tsahik still here? Oe tìkin srung si” [I need help] You heard a hoarse voice ask, quickly de-attaching from Mo’at to turn towards the back and collect a bowl with the herbs and bandages from before, ready to help whoever it was that was injured at the door. “Wha-“ You stopped dead in your tracks, dropping the bandages in your hand and nearly dropping the bowl as well out of shock.

It was, “Za’yukto, you seem as if you were attacked by a Palulukan” Mo’at joked, not realizing the shock that overtook your body. You weren’t sure what shocked you most, the fact that Za’yukto was here or the fact he was here injured so badly after seeing the bandage around his head, the injury you inflicted. You slowly picked up the bandage and tightened your grip on the bowl filled with herbs, making your way over to Mo’at quickly and setting them to her side, where she made Za’yukto sit. “Y/n can you please help with the bruises inflicted on his back?” She asked, it barely even being a question, quickly pushing you to his backside to which you tensed up. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, swallowing your feelings and putting your work first, soon finishing quickly, as Mo’at soon finished afterwards.

You payed close attention to the injuries he had gotten, knowing well he was obviously attacked, but not by any animal, by a person obviously. Thankfully for you both there weren’t any open wounds, just bruises, which you took note on. The entire time he did nothing but place his head down, in a sense of shame you would’ve guessed, making you more curious, when Mo’at had finished with him however and moved away he began apologizing to you numerous amount of times for what he did and what had happened and asked how your injuries were, you only nodded and showed him your injuries, in the process of healing and if anything doing better than his now, not really wanting to spark conversation with him, thankfully he was smart enough to realize that and spent the rest of the moment in silence.

Soon after you finished and Za’yukto departed, Mo’at sent you on your way,, but not without making sure you took her advice to heart.

Most of it did most of it didn’t, knowing she could tell you as much as she wanted but it wouldn’t really truly leave you, you’d have to deal with your own problems alone, whether present or future, and honestly you prayed that time wouldn’t ever come.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You soon arrived back to Jake’s hut, greeting him and smiling. He soon asked how your meeting with Mo’at was, you ignored the question not wanting to get into the previous conversation you had just had with your god-mother, asking him how he was and what had happened after you left, to which he didn’t want to respond to your question as well, leaving you puzzled.

“C’mere” He said, motioning towards his lap, to which you smiled and obliged, sitting promptly. Soon you guys continued your conversation, sharing short laughs and flirts back and forth, until Jake went up to hold your hand to which you saw his hands bruised and his knuckles busted and dry with blood. “What’s this? What happened to you?” You asked, now turned fully to him, searching in his eyes for an answer, which quickly darted away as he licked his bottom lip. “T‘s nothin, I just had an accident” He lied, his eyes still looking away, scanning the room. You frowned, taking his other hand to see the exact same marks and discoloration of his skin, “Why didn’t you ask me to help you! Let me get some-“

“No, it’s fine i’m okay” He said, gesturing he was fine, flexing his hands, balling them into fists, and wiggling his fingers around to show he was okay, which you didn’t believe. “You were fine this morning when I….” You paused.

He was fine when you left, and so was Za’yukto, you completely forgot you both crossed paths before leaving this morning. All of a sudden you come home and he refuses to talk about what happened when you left, and was lying to your face right now. What didn’t help his case was the fact that bruises were found all over Za’yukto and yet Jake remained untouched, the only bruises being on his hands, the same hands that he must’ve used to inflict the wounds on Za’yu. You weren’t wrong with your hypothetical thinking earlier, whatever had harmed Za’yukto was obviously someone, just not who you expected.

You quickly let go of Jake’s hand, standing up slowly and dusting yourself off, “Za’yukto came by to Mo’at’s hut this morning, asking for assistance.” You stated sharply, looking dead at Jake to which he looked up at you then down to his feet, his tail flicking quickly while his ears lowered softly. “He had so many injuries inflicted into his skin I was scared it would’ve battered his soul. Oeng Tsahik keng hangvur fyape hoan te’ekon ni a palulukan” [Our Tsahik even joked how he was attacked by a palulukan] You clicked quickly, watching Jake’s lips shift, pursing slowly. “Did it feel good? Beating on him like th-“

“Don’t do that.” He cut you off, stating harshly and he hunched over a little, his elbows resting on the plump of his thighs, as he looked up at you, now clearly upset. “Don’t do what Jake? Don’t tell you what you did was wrong? Because it was, and I didn’t ask you to do it, you did it on your own account to make you feel better about yourself.” You spat, pointing at him, he stood up abruptly hands on his hips as he huffed. “I’m suprised he was even able to walk into the ten-“

“I did it for you!” He shouted, throwing his hands in a fuss to which you quickly scoffed at. “You missed the part where I told you I didn’t ask you to-“

“Oh for fuck’s sake y/n, you came into my home sobbing and hardly even speaking to me out of fear, you know better than anyone else that I wouldn’t have just let him get away with i-“

“Oh yeah? Well I had it handled, if you were paying close attention he already had a bandage on his head, from my inflicting, as I told you!” You shouted back, slowly taking a step back when hearing his tone. “I’m not some damsel in distress I can protect myself and deal with my own issues, I’ve been doing it long enough.” You said, placing a hand on your hip to see Jake’s irritated expression. You heard him mumble something under his breath, and to which you quickly asked what he said, and for him to say it loud with his chest, thinking it was some sort of insult.

“I did it because I love you, I’m in love with you y/n, I don’t want to see you hurt, you don’t understand how much it hurts me to see you hurt, trust me kid if I knew this would’ve hurt you I never would’ve called him here in the first place.” He confessed, slowly stepping up to you with his hands out, attempting to take his hand into yours, to which you kept back, refusing.

“Was that supposed to get me to jump back into your arms and act like all is normal?” You asked him, upset at his confession, he furrowed his brows at you taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean? That my love for you is fake? You got some damn nerve talking about how I feel when I don’t even know how you feel, I could be standing hear arguing with you for no goddamn reason, you probably don’t even love me, hell even like me!” He shouted pointing at you, hissing momentarily and baring his fangs, you bit down on your bottom lip softly, staying silent.

You did love Jake, that you were sure of, even Mo’at was sure of it, and you were sure that you’d expressed it in every way possible to him. He wasn’t wrong however, you never really told him, everything just happened so quickly you didn’t know what to do or say, you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth quite literally stayed agape until you kissed him, which you had hoped closed things up, but it obviously didn’t. Being apart of Jake’s everyday life in the future didn’t scare you, you already had played the role well as his assistant and honestly you enjoyed it, but playing the role as the Tsahik? His wife? Completely different, you couldn’t see yourself fitting into the shoes of your adopted mother and especially not the man you loved, you were mortified. All you could do was look at your feet, a huge lump in your throat and tears prickling the corners of your eyes, you tried to open your mouth, only slightly gasping for air, afraid your words would only do more harm, cursing yourself internally.

“Nga yawne lu oer.” You said softly, but loud enough for Jake to hear, pausing before watching as he came closer to you, now standing directly in front of you. “Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” He deadpanned, searching for some sort of anger to trigger, which he did.

“I have had eyes for you since the first day you landed with Toruk into our sanctuary and pleaded your oath to my mother and to Tsu’tey. My heart has yearned for you ever since I laughed at your complaints to her in the healers tent, since the first day I’ve worked for you, since the first time you ever hugged me or caressed me. I love you Tsyeyk Te Suli.” You said harshly, whipping your head up at him and jabbing him in his chest, clearly taken a back by your confession slowly raising his hand to place over yours, the tears now burning your eyes before falling, heating your cheeks up.

“I would give up so much for you, I owe you so much y/n, I am of your creation, patience, time, care, and love. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, I wouldn’t be the ruler I am today if it wasn’t for you, but I cannot do this alone, I need every piece of y-

“I cannot be by your side, I am not fit to be.” You quickly stated, cutting him off briefly, still not looking up to him, to which changed shortly after he placed his hand under your chin, guiding your head up slightly so you could look at him. He had tears in his eyes. “I cannot be the wife you need me to be and I cannot be the Tsahik our people need, those places are meant to be filled, but they cannot be filled by me.” You cried, now watching as Jake’s ears down-poured, and a tear rolled down his cheek, which he didn’t bother wiping away. “You say you cannot be the wife I need when the wife I need is you, you’re all I need y/n. You aren’t alone and you don’t ever have to be, whatever it is that you’re scared of don’t be, I’ve seen how you’ve interacted with the children and elderly here, how much they adorn you and constantly ask for your assistance, you’d make a wonderful Tsahik, you’re mother has preached it millions of times and has honored you as if you’re gold, calls you ewya’s daughter. I will always be here waiting for you, I will not have another woman, I will not settle for anyone else who is not you. I will not rest until I do have you, you are all I want, all I need, all I have, please.” He begged softly, cupping your face to which you cried more, slowly resting your head on his chest, staining his skin with your tears.

“I’m sorry” You mumbled into his chest, to which he smiled softly, your mumbles tickling him slightly, he kissed your now dry hair and massaged your back slowly, nodding and apologizing as well. “It’s a large responsibility you know? I get why you’re scared, but you can’t possibly do a worse job than me.” Jake joked, earning a faint laugh from you which made him chuckle, thankfully lightening the mood.

Soon after you two made up with one another you remained in physical contact, wiping each others tears and holding hands or hugging constantly, blabbering small nonsense to one another about your relationship and your young undying love, what the future held for you and how you would announce everything afterwards towards the clan and Mo’at, not wanting to let the other go. You helped Jake with his knuckles and to which he thanked you, brushing his hands against yours softly, just to interlock them.

“I wanna take you somewhere, it’ll help you get outta all this.” He said, tapping the side of your head lightly, tightening his grasp, you blinked several times before smiling, asking him where. To your surprise he remained discrete, saying it was a secret and he wanted to make up for the argument that erupted earlier, you just obliged. “As long as I don’t die” You kidded, earning a soft hum in response from him as he grinned at you, kissing your forehead, encouraging it would be the complete opposite of that.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Jake soon after had you trailing behind him, his hand interlocked with yours as he guided you through the forest, giving you heads up of whether to jump or duck or turn since he had blindfolded you. Being raised within the forests your whole life didn’t help, unfamiliar of the path he was taking you on all you could do was giggle in response, until coming to an abrupt stop.

“We’re here pretty” He said, indicating you to remove your blindfold, which you did eagerly before looking up, the pink and purple luminescent lights quickly indicating where you were, “Vitraya Ramunong” [The Tree Of Souls] You muttered in disbelief, quickly placing your hand up to your lips to hide your large smile.

It had been so long since you’ve been here, you missed it entirely, the feeling, the melodies, the connections and joy it brought you. You quickly thanked Jake, jumping into his arms giddily, to which he wrapped his arms around you, laughing in response.

“Most of the time when I would go to Mo’at for assistance with Olo’ektyan duties she would send me here, to connect with the past one’s or even the past Toruk Makto’s to create a connection with them and ask for advice, t’s helped me a lot.” He said, quickly dragging his fingers between the tendrils and branches of the tree that hung to the blue mossy floors. You smiled at him intently, doing the same and frolicking around, to which he followed you like a small child. You soon decided to follow his advice, making your way to gently grab one of the tendrils while reaching behind you, gently taking your kuru and bringing it up towards the branch and watching as the tendrils of your kuru make the bond with the tree, gasping softly.

Jake just stood there, watching you in awe, the way your skin glowed underneath the lights, and the small smile on your face. The way in particular of how you held your queue, and how your tendrils practically danced towards the branches, creating an effortless bond, smiling softly and standing beside you, repeating your actions and then exhaling softly.

Mo’at was right, the arguments and obstacles that have been placed between you and Jake were meant to make you stronger, inseparable maybe.

This night would prove that for sure.

⭐️🕷️Taglist 🕷️⭐️

@igotmajordaddyissues @dani111 @call-me-doll-face @shadowmoonlight0604 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @taleiak @bunniparadise @ellabellabus07 @anangelwhodidntfall

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irisjaxx665 · 29 days

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in the past couple years, ive been working on getting better with talking about my traumas. at this point the only people i havent talked to about everything are my parents. i dont cry as much now, talking about it though.

before colorado, my parents, their son brett, and i lived in Oklahoma. He, while biologically my full sibling, never acted like a brother towards me. from when i was age 11 til 13 He molested me and threatened my life many times. so i hadnt called Him a brother since i was 10. this, they know and the molestation stopped though the threats and insults didnt until we cut contact when i turned 18. but when i was 7, i met my first and, for years, only friend, who i fell in love with, and who became a better brother to me than i had ever known. i never brought him to my parents house, and this they dont know. His name was Nikolai, he was 11 then. i loved Him with all that i was or ever would be and He saw me as His little sister. so i swore to be the best little sister anyone could have. He loved mardi gras and wanted to go to new orleans when He got older. He taught me kickboxing and russian, i taught Him ballet and what limited german i knew. we talked about everything and nothing, and i felt like someone cared about me, instead of just caring for me. we swore oaths, bound in blood and fire and the passion of innocence. we swore to join the marines when i hit 18 so we could serve side by side. we swore to keep no secrets to each other. we swore that a pain to one would be a pain to both. we swore to name our firstborns for each other, and name the other godparent when we found our loves. we swore to get matching tattoos. we swore to fulfill bucket lists together. to see the world together. He taught me how to clean my wounds when i learned what hate was, aimed towards myself like a grenade with my name etched on its face in every language. He taught me how to protect myself against the animals that roamed our woods and climb trees and swim the rivers around us. He picked me up and cleaned me up after my suicide and overdose attempts in my tween years. He taught me the names of the stars and how to follow their dance. He told me every quote and phrase that has lodged itself in my head and in my veins and on my bones. He let me cry and be afraid and be myself without telling me that i had to be ashamed of who i was, or that i had to change.

on march 25, 2014 i found His body, after getting home from a spring break trip with my parents. since then, the only other real brother ive had has been Caine. everything gets very hard every year, around His death and His birthday in december. in april is when i was raped by the cop. that may is when i found i was pregnant, and got clean of heroin. january of 2015 is when i had and lost my twins. winter isnt kind to me. between my mental and physical health, its taxing.

this year, when Pond and i get home from our honeymoon, ill be 9 years clean almost to the day. the twins wouldve turned 9 this past january. and Nikolai would have turned 27. i still feel so weird knowing im older than my big brother. my one true fear is losing the people i love. and since i was young ive had memory issues. and as every year passes, i can feel im losing a piece of Him. i can barely remember His voice now. i remember His eyes. i remember the feeling of getting to be in His arms, in a hug, sleeping, sobbing, fighting. i remember His scent. He always smelt of the forest and the river and freedom and joy and safety. meeting Caine in colorado, i saw Niki in His heart. i saw Niki in His strength, His peace, His power, His voice, His arms. He taught me how to trust again and taught me not to be ashamed of my scars. because somehow the gods still havent taken me and thats why i wear them. and we talked about everything and nothing. then i met Pond, and in His eyes, i saw Niki again. Pond has Niki’s eyes. rich, deep, honest, loving, passionate, beautiful eyes. and He knows every inch of me. every scar, every freckle and hair of me. and somehow, He loves me. though i could never understand. and these men ive loved in my life mean worlds to me. i just wish i could give them the worlds they deserve. instead, all i can do is all that i can.

#me #personal rant

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mrfoox · 1 year

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It's kinda depressing that everytime I'm shown any kind of kindness and concern over the normal/bare minimum, I have an inner crisis

#miranda talking shit #Hi im 25 and ive never been shown much kindness and had anyone show concern for me i dont know how to react normally #Queue the montage of me bursting out crying when roo asks me if im really okay #Or me getting teary eyed when someone give me an complement for no reason #Or someone listens to my wishes/wants/needs and try to act accordingly #Im still so used to being the one to adjust to everyone and be the one trying to be nice to others #I honestly cant be normal about anyone showing me any care and it shows #The times i have actually cried or been seconds away from it when people show genuine concern for me is pathetic #Negative #In my subconscious no one cares about me bc thats how ive always felt so being confronted by the fact that people actually do #Just makes me lose my mind and I'll be taught all over again that i matter something to some people #I'd like a day when i can be normal about this but it wont be now or for another 5 years

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moonflwer-gutz · 11 months

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I'm seeing Across The Spiderverse on Saturday and I just

I wanna talk about how much the original means to me for a second

bc I am not going to be normal about it when I see it (obviously I won't post spoilers without tagging/warning so dw)

so Into The Spiderverse came out in December 2018. which not only was around my 13th birthday, but also was when I was making decisions about highschool. I already knew that I wanted to do art, I was sure of that part. But I was still conflicted on just doing art at a normal school, or going to a high school that actually specialized in art.

and then i saw ITSV. and just. holy shit.

the way the characters moved. the way the story was told. the way that every little detail, every single frame had years of thought and care behind it. from the texturing to the framerate. i fell in love. i was always an animation fan, i had always wanted to make my own, i had always wanted to bring art to life and create the things that shaped my childhood. animation was my dream and always had been.i made my decision then and there. it had always been in my mind and that was the last push i needed.

i was going to study animation. i was gonna pursue my dream.

fast forward one year, i passed the audition and got into the art school. fast forward another year and, despite the tribulations of quarantine, i was accepted into the animation major--the most competitive major in the school.

to this day, i cannot watch ITSV without referring to it as the movie that shaped me as a person. it literally permanently set me on my path to my dream career. and to this day, i cannot watch it without randomly bursting into tears. its just. its something that means so much to me and no matter how many times i rewatch it i always notice some little detail that makes me froth at the mouth-

and the Leap of Faith scene....God the Leap of Faith scene. i ugly cry every time. because i hear them talking to me. applying to that school, trying for the animation program, that was my leap of faith. and it worked. and i persevered.

so now, being exactly 25 days away from graduating from that very same school, i find myself extremely emotional that the sequel to the film that changed my life is coming out at the same time. ITSV set me up for high school, ATSV is setting me up for college. and while my college situation is a bit complicated rn (im on a waitlist for my dream school and theres a possibility i won't know the answer until july) i can't help but feel that everything is going to be ok. it just feels like history repeating itself yknow?

ive had this film to guide me on my journey these past four years, and soon it'll be films to guide me.

i already know i'm going to ugly sob during this movie same way i always do for the original. and i cannot wait to see how Miles and Gwen have grown. because i grew with them. and i can't wait to see where our journeys go from here <3

#yeah yeah sappy post i know #itsv means a lot to me and i needed to talk about this #my friends and family already know all this i cant even listen to the soundtrack or look at the art book without crying #yeah just some mel lore for you #this movie shaped the trajectory of the last four years of my life and thats not even a joke <3 #i cannot wait for saturday #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #moonflwer thoughts

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yardofangels · 4 months

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Hi Iris! I just wanted to ask if you had any general head canons about König (your AU or just in general) that you’d want to share? Anything about his upbringing, love language, unhealed trauma ect. that you’d want to divulge? Also I absolutely love your writing. The way you write König is definitely one of my fav interpretations of his character.

OMGGGGGG IVE BEEN W A I T I N G FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO EXCITED YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND OSPDHVWEVNJWEGOH

thank you sm for your words!! im so flattered <333

for this one its going to be headcanons for my AU of könig. hope you enjoy!!

tw for implied verbal and emotional abuse, bullying, negative self-talk, mentions of locker-room talk, violence, and implied manipulation below the cut!!

könig's flaws and love language have a lot to do with his upbringing. don't get me wrong, it wasn't like what he'd heard of ghost's upbringing. könig had adequate food and shelter, and his parents never blatantly mistreated him. he was never kicked, or hit, never had things thrown at him; nothing was ever wildly hurtful.

but what he had suffered built up over the course of 17 years and had impacts that lasted much longer. shit that he's still trying (not) to work through today. shit that stayed deep within his psyche, that he came back to every time he failed and shit that whispered down his neck, telling him to push himself further.

from the outside looking in, he came from an entirely normal family. his mama and papa loved each other. they went to church every sunday, and beamed when people complimented how tall their boy was getting. könig was spoiled because he was an only child and never had to share the attention. he excelled greatly in the subjects of mathematics and science from the time he was 8 and received recognition for this at school.

but the outside never gets to see how bad you're hurting, does it?

he'll never forget the way his mother straightened his collar, scolding him centimetres away from his face, reminding him that if he gets anything less than a 19/20 on the upcoming test, he'll have no hope of being anything to them.

he still can't seem to shake the look on his father's face when his mother ranted and raved about how könig had tarnished their entire reputation by questioning the teacher's authority, how he was a disgraceful and humiliating child. the way his papa's bushy eyebrows pinched, and he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. the look that screamed 'if i say anything, she'll attack me too.'

none of it was loud. everything his mama ever did to him was only ever alluding to him being the worst thing she had ever done. it was the words, the mind games, and the inability to fight back. he was trapped as a youth. trapped in a household that yelled 'i love you', and whispered 'but only when you are my projection of what you should be.'

of course, it didn't stop there, either. he was torn into relentlessly at school, too. it was much like his home life, except with the added bonus of being thrown into trees and having his face dunked under sinks for extended periods of time.

y'know, typical kid stuff.

they grabbed at anything they could with him. his love of space, his braces (that never really did much to help his teeth in the end), his height, his size, his stutter. all of it. anything that indicated that he was different to the rest of the population was like a big, red target on his back.

what they did at school further cemented in his brain what he learnt at home.

you are worth nothing. you contribute nothing. you are nothing. all you are is an outsider. all you can be is an outsider. you are not attractive. you are not talented. you offer nothing. you are nothing.

this treatment from ages 0-17 is what led to his deeper flaws emerging from 17-25. his frequently infrequent contact with his mother and father, his tendency to distance himself from the other cadets, his daydreams of violence.

he didn't like crying. it sent memories of sobbing in the PE closet and into his pillow flooding back. he preferred to push it down, ignore it, and forget it happened. he would much rather be the first one out at target practice.

he still stuttered. so, he stopped talking. he resorted to closing his mouth, to wearing a bandana, to wearing a balaclava, to wearing his t-shirt. he liked fading into the background, even though his build wouldn't ever really allow it. he hated socialising. at first it was because it made him so nervous (it still does, but he won't admit that). he couldn't find the right words to make himself likable. after a while, he came to resent it. why was everyone else able to pick it up with such ease, but not him? where was the fairness in that? he eventually stopped seeing much point in speaking up more than necessary.

and girls never took interest in him during high school, so he didn't expect them to now. he was never upset with the women, he wouldn't blame them if they wanted nothing to do with him. it was his fellow cadets that drove him insane. talking of a new bird every day, objectifying them, degrading them. part of him wanted to join in; share this bond they seemingly had, talk about his own girl he used up. they made it sound so good. but a bigger part of him was wildly jealous and horrifyingly enraged at what they could say at times. it filled him with a fire that he couldn't quite understand.

this didn't stop him from a go on the local barrack bunny here and there. just to prove to himself that he wasn't entirely devoid of feeling.

he couldn't really pinpoint when the violence arose in him. it just. appeared to him one day. he realised while standing over another limp body that he'd killed someone and enjoyed it. that he'd taken their power away, just like his mother had done to him. his mother who had now disowned him for staying in the army for so long. his mother he wanted to destroy. his mother whom he could never destroy, so he destroys others instead.

eventually, he started pushing the limits everywhere he went. the more settled he got in himself as a man, the more he acted out. this is what landed him in jail. his rash decisions, his anger, his lack of all other emotion. it was eating away at him behind those bars, and he itched to take it further.

that itch only got stronger when he met you. you, who he now had to protect. you, who he saw meaning in. you, who saved him from being consumed by his darkness.

könig doesn't love in a particularly healthy way. i mean, i think that isn't too surprising given what he went through and subsequently put himself through. he loves possessively, he loves obsessively, he loves as if there is nothing else in the world but you and him.

to him, love has no definition. it has no 'right and wrong' other than hurting the person you love. if he has to hide something from you, it's because he doesn't want to lose you. if he has to use his words to twist your mind, it's so you never lose sight of him. if he has to protect you from the world, by any means necessary, it's worth it. if it's you, it's worth it.

he sees no problem in doing morally grey, or even impure things if it means you stay with him. after all, he loves you. you wouldn't deny him, would you? don't you love him too?

he knows it'll never get to the stage where you question him, though. he can see you are wholly dedicated to him. it's only more fuel to him being able to do what he wants to you. he knows if you were aware, you'd like it.

in terms of love languages, könig's biggest is physical touch. he just loves that skin-to-skin contact with you. he loves how much bigger he is compared to you, he loves wrapping himself around you, to the point where it almost looks like you two are one entity. you're just so soft and warm; he can't ever get enough of, in some way, having your skin on his.

aside from that, you'll often find that he shows his love in acts of service. anything from sweeping the kitchen to building a house, if he can serve you or protect you, he'll do it. he's unsure where this tendency came from in him. he just enjoys keeping busy.

he particularly appreciates words of affirmation from you. something he never really received growing up. he would never ask you to praise him, never even admit that he likes it. but when you slip the occasional 'you're so good to me, baby' or 'this is wonderful, you did amazing', he melts. he's a sucker for being told he's good enough, or that he did well.

könig sure as hell isn't perfect, but he's working on being better for you. he's doing what he can to make sure you never see the vulnerable child in him. the wrathful teenager. the uncaring man. he wants you to have the best of him.

and you do, because you bring it out in him naturally.

-------

yeah!! that's it!!! i tried desperately to not talk to much but there's just so much to say. so many things that this post could lead to.

thank you so much for reading this far!! pls reblog if you like it, and send in more requests!! it makes my day!!!

#irisintothevoid #irispenandpaper #iris answers #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #konig imagine #thats right i said it konig has mummy issues #he is also extremely so obviously autistic #i think he also has daddy issues but to a lesser extent #his dad never did anything to directly hurt him but was a bystander in it #so much here #ily tho!

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