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daisys-reality · 2 years

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ᴠᴏɪᴅ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐨 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞?

hey everyone :) this PAC is kinda the second part of my other void state PAC. Some of you guys wanted more advice (?) I guess 😅 Check out part one if you haven't already :)

I will use my wild unknown animal spirit deck to find out what kind of energy you should tune into to ‘fasten up’ your journey.

what is the void state? It's a state of pure consciousness. It's usually reached through meditation. The void is within you, hence you are the void. You can manifest anything through the void state.

how to choose a picture: try to calm down, take deep breaths & use your intuition to select. Take you time and chose the picture you feel the most drawn to. (You can choose more than one picture.)

༣P𝔦𝔩𝔢 1

What kind of energy could help you?

Hello pile one :) for you guys I got the lion spirit, the bat spirit and the raccoon spirit.

Being in a state of patience and calmness because you know it will happen. Make use of your excitement/passion/fiery energy. Be brave and courageous, use your true leadership qualities - it’s your life so you should take the lead. Working on self-transformation and dedicating your life to personal and spiritual growth. Treat yourself and your body with respect. Establish a quiet confidence about yourself and about your abilities/ability to enter the void state. Embody regal energy like a lion. Demand respect from others - don’t let yourself be pushed around. Don’t overshare, keep only a few people close by, give off ‘hard to access’ or aloof vibes towards others/strangers (the people close to you will know your warm-hearted side). Creating peace and strength within you is important. Don’t waste your energy or resources and be precise. (Self) mastery and knowing that nothing is unavailable for you - no matter where you are on your journey. Be careful with being too hard on yourself - don’t withdraw from life too much - you should still do joyful activities from time to time! Daily meditation as well as spending time with your friends and enjoying yourself could help you lighten up your energy. Getting into the void state should come easily to you - don’t make this too difficult or serious - keep it (the energy) light, Establish inner peace and strength. Be sure of yourself!

Being night active or using the nighttime and the early mornings to affirm or visualize might be useful. The nighttime makes your inner mind more creative and powerful. Become aware or subtle changes in your life (that you created) and the underlying forces surrounding it. Coming to peace with your past, detaching (emotionally) from the 3D while experiencing swift moments in your life that encourage you to move on. No more lingering in the past. Every night a day comes to its end and every morning a new day starts, journaling or using a diary might be useful for you - writing down what happened that day and letting go of it. Make peace with yourself every night before sleeping. Accept what happens in your 3D - adapt to it (in that moment) and then adjust your mind to it (affirming what you really want/what you want to be different). Don't obsess over the 3D. Stop reminiscing about the past. Go through a rebirth - watching the sunrise might help you. See yourself changing by every moment that passes. Go with the flow, take everything in moderation and don’t stretch yourself too thin. The need for balance is really strong here! Be careful with restlessness, blocked emotions, indecisiveness and any kind of excess.

Becoming aware about your skills and talents and being creative will help you. Playing an instrument or other creative stuff might light up your energy. You need to be tenacious about what you want. Resolve inner issues around your self image and about the concept of ‘success’ - you don’t need to work hard to be successful. You are worthy enough. You might need to be shadowy about your plans (your manifesting journey)/keeping it to yourself. Know when to wear a ‘mask’ - sometimes it might work in your favor and other times it might limit your creativity. Manifesting equals being a creator and an artist - that’s the energy you should tune into. Detach from other people’s perception of you and from their expectations of you - ask yourself ‘Do I want to be like that or do I want to be more than that?’ and ‘What if I’m ready to grow into something more?’. You need to resolve that ‘creative ego fear’ - don’t fear being creative and don’t fear stepping in your power. Don’t starve your creative side either. Don't fear competition and let feelings of jealousy go - you are already on top, right? :) Don't give up! Hold your ground. If you're feeling inadequate for your (big) dreams or overwhelmed at times - you need to connect with yourself more! Ask yourself 'Who am I?' and 'Who do I want to be?' - compare your answers and change what doesn't make you feel fulfilled and complete. Stability within is what will make you the most powerful person. <3

-> check out my other pac readings :)

༣P𝔦𝔩𝔢 2

What kind of energy could help you?

Hey pile two~ for you guys I got the oyster spirit, the hummingbird spirit and the nightingale spirit.

Much like pile one, being patient but at the same time focused and determined on your goal is important. Anything an oyster personality puts their mind to - they achieve with grace and charm. Don’t take your inner gifts for granted. It’s okay to sometimes withdraw to protect yourself but be careful with overprotectiveness.. Don’t be shy or doubtful - listen to your heart/your inner child - what it wants is what you really need. Keep certain things a secret not because you're shy about it but because you realize that some people are not able to deal with those things respectfully. You have so much potential, creativity and a powerful imagination - it’s important to reveal those inner treasures. Ask yourself ‘what is it that I have been hesitant to share?’ - the world is waiting to see you shine brightly: Being in the energy of feeling blessed, being generous with yourself and mastering your skills might help you. You might see yourself as soft and delicate but you have a strong shell to protect yourself. The oyster lives in a turbulent environment of ocean currents yet it’s peaceful and adaptable. And It has the ability to take the sand and grit and irritants in its life and transform it into a pearl - very magical and so are you. Become aware of the magical side of you! Get in touch with your feminine and sensual side. Embody empress and queen of cups energy - but be careful of emotional drainage or insecurity. Embrace nature and beauty to lighten up your energy. Become stable and secure within.

Be positive and enthusiastic about your life, yourself and about the void state. Be full of energy - know where to get your energy back or know what to do to lighten up when you're lacking energy - and do those things daily for nourishment and rejuvenation. Spending time in nature, using your creativity and exploring spirituality are helpful. Be in the knowing that you can’t go wrong - tell yourself ‘I KNOW where I’m going with my life and I KNOW that I’m doing everything right.’. Create sweet moments in your life, appreciate the small things - change your mind so that you only notice the positive things and ignore anything that would get you into a bad mood - just be delusional! It will definitely work in your favor :) The hummingbird is very smart and curious and it loves to learn - embody that energy. Don’t shy away from things that spark your curiosity! Try to be careful about becoming pushy/insistent or sharp (with your words) towards others and yourself (especially when failed attempts happen). Be gentle and caring with yourself, appreciate your own complexity, follow your intuition. Be in a child-like (not childish!) energy - and take a child-like approach to manifesting and to the void-state - ‘How would you think about the void state if you were a child?’. People might have told you a dozen times that things aren’t logical or don’t make sense - forget what those people tried to put in your mind! - Tell yourself ‘nothing is illogical’ and ‘everything makes perfectly sense’. Know that the world around you is full of abundance and vitality, giving you plenty of opportunities to achieve wealth - not only in the financial sense but in a holistic one as well. Try to detach from financial worries as much as possible. You don’t want to establish a ‘lack of xx’ energy - be in the energy of prosperity. Be careful of imbalance and trust issues within yourself. Bonding with yourself and your inner child is the best way to make you unstoppable. <3

Become comfortable with the concept of being otherworldly and feel it. Even if you think that you seem ‘average and unnoticeable’ like the nightingale (please DON’T - you're a magical beauty !!!) know that you have so much more magic within you than others! You guys are special and powerful - embody that energy. Writing/composing and singing might help you and also listening to music because it heals your deepest wounds. You need to open the bridge between your heart and your voice - ask yourself ‘Is there something I need to say?’ ‘How long has it been since I sang freely?’ - turn up the music, write it down and let it out. Working on your throat and heart chakra might help as well as speaking freely with kindness and releasing shyness. Listen to your dreams and explore your own darkness and mysticism. Be true to yourself, establish a clear set of values and adjust your life accordingly. I know you can. :)

-> check out my other pac readings :)

༣P𝔦𝔩𝔢 3

What kind of energy could help you?

Hello pile three! For you guys, I got the camel spirit, the eagle spirit and the bee spirit.

Being resourceful - What does that mean? If you ask google they say: Think of resourceful people as “full of resources,” or tools for coming up with solutions. They adapt well to new or difficult situations and they are able to think creatively. For example, if a snake gets loose in the pet store, a resourceful person will be able to figure out how to lure it back into its cage again - that’s what you should embody, the camel spirit is independent, they know themself and can handle absolutely anything as it carries a wealth of nourishment (water) within, they are self-reliant and handle any challenge with ease, know that you are capable of anything - it’s all within yourself and the void already surrounds you. Even in the face of heat (judgment or anger) - search within to cool yourself but also the situation down. Know that you are able to bring opposites into balance (fire and water - feelings and intellect etc), be responsible for your own reactions. Keep your emotions under control but don’t bottle them up, don’t run from them and face them head on instead. Deal with your moodiness, when you ‘fail’ at entering the void state, don’t justify why you didn't get into the void state - don’t dwell on it! Just affirm intensely ‘I get into the void every time i try!’ - don’t give the old story any chance. PERSIST - get it into your head that you are capable of entering the void! Be generous with yourself, don’t do negative self-talk. Try to have a fresh yet passionate outlook on the void state. Be spontaneous and just see it as exploring yourself. Get rid of the ‘lack of direction’/’lack of success’ mindset! Don’t be immature or pessimistic. You are not helpless! Tell yourself ‘I KNOW what I’m doing and IT WORKS every single time!’. Make sure that you dehydrate enough. If you feel a lack of vitality try to go outside and just walk around or travel. Try to be in a calm and content energy regarding the void state and don’t lose your spark.

The noble eagle spirit emanates the light of the sun and the sun in tarot represents the universe coming together and agreeing with your path and aiding forward movement into something greater. The eagle is a very powerful bird - I think you should tell yourself more often how great and powerful you are - work on your self image/worth. Try to improve your physical and spiritual strength. Anything shitty that occurs in your 3D should make you even more determined to transform. Embody the best and brightest version of yourself. You are stronger than you think. Shine bright and face any ‘challenge’ head on - it doesn't matter how ‘difficult’ anything seems because you are always in control. Don’t try to be controlling or force control in the 3D - that shows that you are in a ‘lack of control’ - instead just KNOW that you are in control - tell yourself that as many times as you need ‘I am in control. I am the creator of my reality. I am in the knowing.’- you don’t need to do anything special - just KNOW. Or rather you subconsciousness needs to know and as you seem to have a stubborn mind, persisting and intense affirming might be necessary.

Again, be in the energy of contentedness and vibrance. Be earnest and hardworking (in regards to persisting and affirming), integrate affirming into your daily life. Be careful with overworking yourself, stop when you feel it starts getting annoying - give yourself enough breaks in between - work steadily and thoughtfully until the final task is complete. See entering the void state as something that can be completed/accomplished - IT'S A FACT. You will enter the void state because you can. Be aware of all the subtleties. Be careful with impatience and perfectionism. Enjoy learning more about yourself. It’s all for the better. Realize that you are ready for healing and for positive change. Learn to forgive (yourself), to forget in order to move on. Be open to change, open your heart and let this period of transformation happen. Allow yourself to have hope for the future, be courageous and generous with yourself. Don’t fear being disappointed (by failed attempts etc) because you will enter the void state anyways, right? So it doesn’t matter :) Are you feeling motivated and restless? Now is the perfect time to act on those feelings, start taking those first steps into making your dreams reality. Show willpower and enthusiasm. When losing focus or motivation - remind yourself why you are doing this. Affirming and stuff like that might seem dull to you, but they will pay off eventually. You must see all your tasks through to the end. Don’t be resistant to change.

-> check out my other pac readings :)

#🌼 talking #pac #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #void state #manifesting #self concept #affirmations #loa #t.tarot #t.advice #t.loa #t.void

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: The Light Of Morning

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Drug Use, NSFW, SMUTT, LOTS OF WORDS

Words: 8.6k

Summary: What is done in the dark, comes to light.

Note: I come bearing gifts! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this! ❤️❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

“Ms. Y-L-N, this is the final print. It’s just waiting for your approval,” Tandy said, placing it in front of you on your desk.

“Thank you. I’ll have a look. Tell Capri that I need to see the proofs from that shoot this morning.”

“Got it.” You began flipping through the magazine you were the editor in chief of and tried to figure out if all the edits made your cut. You were picky always had been, but your pickiness always paid off. It paid off so much that you were one of the biggest names in fashion and a serious force to be reckoned with. As you flipped you listened in on the phone conference, you were part of all the while taking notes of any idea that came to mind.

Today was a hectic day. The final edits had to go out for printing tonight, on top of the new theme for next month’s magazine. Once the theme was picked, you had to come up with backup articles for all of your staff so that when the staff meeting happened, things would go smoothly. Then you had to iron out all the details for your meetings the following Monday. Fridays for everyone else symbolized the beginning of the weekend and whatever party, but for you, it was always the busiest and most hectic day of the week.

An hour later, your conference was finished, and you’d signed off on the edits. You now had to get down to put together to oversee the inhouse fashion. As you walked out of your office, Tandy shot to her feet.

“Get these off to printing; we’re all set. I’m going down to put together now.”

“Got it. oh, Chris just called.”

“Chris who?”

“Chris Evans, your bestie,” Tandy informed.

“Really, when?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago.”

“What did he want?”

“He said he’s been calling your cell, and you’ve been ignoring him, and he doesn’t appreciate having to find you through your assistant, especially if he’s your best friend,” Tandy explained. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time for his melodramatics.

“Thank you, Tandy.”

“Do you want me to call him back?”

“No, he can wait. He needs to learn that I’m not at his beck and call,” you teased with a wink before you got on the elevator.

You and Chris had been friends for a long time. You grew up together in Boston but never really became friends until you were both in middle school, which was right in time to see him turn into the object of every teenage girl’s affection. You’d seen Chris through plenty of awkward phases. The phase where he idolized vanilla Ice and thought he should dress like him. The phase where he thought maybe baseball was going to be his calling—it wasn’t. The phase where he got into soccer only to realize that he was skinny as hell and didn’t really like the uniforms that made him look even skinner.

You were there through other phases too, like the phase where he liked only cheerleaders and had a thing with Beverly Espino while also having a thing with her friend Stacy Carrington. That ended badly when they both realized it. You were there during the phase of him crushing on every burnett in your sixth grade only to change his mind and like all the blondes. Needless to say, you’d seen everything Chris related, girlfriends, side pieces, flings, everything. You knew everything about him, his strengths, weaknesses, fears, and shortcomings. You also knew that all his weaknesses and shortcomings would clash with yours.

After high school, you went to college in New York to pursue a degree in journalism and communications. Chris went off to make his mark in Hollywood. Your friendship took a backseat to both of your goals, but that wasn’t the case for long. You made sure to put in the needed effort to remain in each other’s lives. You accompanied him to countless Hollywood events, and he accompanied you to plenty of work events. Now with both of you in your thirties and at the peak of your careers, your friendship was stronger than ever.

When you made it down to put together, you looked over all the pieces of clothing that had been sent to you for you to style as you wished for this month’s issue. The ones that hadn’t been chosen were set to be sent back or reused for next month. You spent the next hour or so making a plan for what you wanted to send back and what you planned on styling for the next issue. You got so enthralled you lost track of time. When Tandy came in to whisper to you that you were late for your interview, you panicked. You hated being late.

It took you five minutes to get back to your office, where some interviewers were waiting for you.

“I’m so sorry. I lost track of time making plans for next month’s issue.”

“We understand, when you make it to the top, you’re supposed to make people wait,” a well-dressed woman with auburn hair said with a smile.

“Ha, the top. Nonsense.”

“Plenty would beg to differ. I’m Madeline, and this is Jeff.”

You shook their hands and asked Tandy to bring in a bottle of your preferred flavored sparkling water; then, you sat in the seat before them. You noticed Jeff give you the once over before he licked his lips as his eyes rested on your thighs.

“Welcome, I’m Y/N, I’ve never liked the whole Mr. Y-L-N.”

They smiled and visibly relaxed. You didn’t know where this idea that you were a mean ass came from. You were so far from that. You did like respect and liked a good job done. Those traits made you meticulous and determined. You didn’t like your time wasted. The interview began with them asking how you got your start and whether or not you knew this was where you wanted to me. You answered the questions honestly, never giving too much information. It was a trick Chris taught you. He always said answer the question asked do not give an ounce more. If you do, you’re making it easy for them to pry for more and or twist your words. It was great advice, advice you followed.

When the conversation went into details on how you put an issue together and how you kept it all organized, you rambled on and on. Your passion was what you did, and you luckily loved what you did. You loved sharing insight, lessons learned, and tips and tricks. You were a black woman, and for you to have made it this far was unheard of. You wanted to show other black little girls that there is no glass ceiling; they too could be right where you were or higher.

When the interview had reached the forty-five-minute mark, you looked to the door expecting Tandy to be there to encourage them to wrap it up. She was nowhere in sight.

“So, Y/N, there is a lot of curiosity about your personal life. You are so successful, so much of a force to be reckoned with inquiring minds need to know. Is there a Mr. Y-L-N waiting at home for you at nights with your bathwater drawn and dinner waiting?”

You nearly laughed way too loudly. The question was ridiculous. You hadn’t had a date in months because of how busy you were, and for the fact again, you hated your time wasted. Men were either intimidated by you and didn’t approach or approached with the intent on wasting your time.

“My success comes with late nights, early mornings, and lots of sacrifices. No Mr. anything is waiting for me at home.”

Jess smiled and quirked his brow before he licked his lips again.

“So the old wives' tales are true. The ones that say successful women have to sacrifice the happy home life of husbands and babies to reach where they want to be.”

You were speechless. How did you answer that? Of course, you didn’t believe that, but that was precisely what you’d been doing. Clearing your throat, you adjusted in your seat.

“On the contrary, I believe women are in control of their lives and futures. It is absolutely possible to have every single thing you want. I fully intend to,” you finished as Tandy stepped in. Finally, you thought.

“All finished in here?”

You stood and adjusted your skirt while nodding with a fake smile.

“Yes. Thank you for coming by, Madeline, Jeff. It’s wonderful to meet you. Tandy will show you out and also give you a parting gift of my appreciation.”

You shook their outstretched hands, Madeline’s first and then Jeff’s. When your hands touched, you felt a smooth card in your palm. Jeff smiled slyly while looking right in your eyes.

“Hopefully, we see more of each other,” he said. You caught his meaning, and politely smiled.

“Time will tell. Have a good weekend.”

You watched them walk out then looked in your hand to see Jeff’s business card. On the back was a simple message. “Call me. I’d love to have dinner sometime.” You chuckled to yourself as you dropped the card in your desk, not giving him or it another thought.

“Y/N, Chris is on the phone.”

“Put him through, thank you.”

You dropped in your seat and stretched your legs on top of your desk then picked up the phone. Before you spoke, he did.

“I am not your assistant or some journalist who wants a piece of you, so they chase you down. I don’t appreciate having to--,” he spoke before you interrupted him.

“Man, stop all that noise. My god, you actors sure are sensitive and love to talk.”

Chris laughed on the line, which had you giggling along with him.

“How can I help thee, Chris Evans?”

“Shut up. You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. You’ve been calling all day. What’s up?”

“I’m in town.”

You froze and smiled. “In town, like New York?”

“Duh New York, where else would in town be?”

“Shut up, don’t come for me.”

“I was planning on doing just that. I had a few interviews today, and I don’t have to fly out until tomorrow afternoon,” he informed before you gasped and sat up.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If it involved beers and music, then yeah,” Chris answered.

You screeched. It had been months since you’d been able to hang out together. You always had a great time together.

“So? You down to take me out?”

“Take you out? You’re such a dork.”

“You like this dork. Can I take that as a yes?”

“Yes. Come by my place at eight.”

“You know that is two hours from now, right? Will you actually be ready? I don’t want to wait for you for an hour, Y/N.”

“You won’t be waiting. I’ll be ready,” you promised.

“Okay, eight. See you then,” Chris finalized before you hung up.

When eight o’clock rolled around, you were not ready, and you knew he was gonna flip out. You ran around your townhouse, trying to finish getting ready. After putting the finishing touches on your makeup look and spritzing yourself with your perfume of the month, you grabbed your clutch in time to hear the doorbell ring. He was ten minutes late, and you knew it was purposely done. Skipping down the steps, you made it to the front door to let him in before he rang again. He gave you a quick once over and stopped at your bare feet.

“I gave you ten extra minutes, and you’re still not ready,” Chris whined. Rolling your eyes, you walked away, leaving the door open.

“Chris, I’m ready. Just give me two minutes. Plus, why are you ringing the doorbell? You have a key.”

You heard the door shut and then heard his footsteps before he turned the corner. “I don’t have any keys on me tonight.”

You tipped your foot onto one of the steps and rubbed the handful of perfumed lotion you carried down with you and paid attention to what you were doing. You didn’t register that everything was quiet. When you looked and turned to him, you rubbed the excess between your thighs.

“What?”

“Uh---nothing, you look incredible. It’s been months.”

You smiled warmly and approached him with your arms stretched out for the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, and the two of you rocked from side to side. His arms engulfed you as they always had, but he felt like he’d bulked up some more.

“Bulked up?”

“Gotta keep the physique looking good.” You rolled your eyes and stepped into your shoes in the corner and adjusted the hemline of your dress.

“See, ready,” you said with a twirl and a pose.

The ride in the cab was not a quiet one. Chris filled you in on everything he’d been doing over the last few months and told you about any new experiences he’d had. There was never one moment of quiet. You’d always found it comforting that no matter how much time passed where the two of you didn’t see each other, it never mattered when you got back together. You talked like no time had passed at all. When he began to tease you about the recent accomplishments you’d made with work, you sat there and ate up the praise. He knew you hated it, but he still did it. Truth be told, you didn’t mind the praise from him; it was from others you hated.

When you walked into the hottest new restaurant in the diamond district, Chris had your clutch and his hand at the small of your back like the perfect gentleman he was. The Friday night crowd was out, and the restaurant was bumbling with overlapping conversations and the clatter of dishes and glasses. As you passed the tables on the way to your own, you felt the eyes of passing men but ignored them. You ordered the first round of drinks and asked for time to decide. That was when you noticed Chris’s eyes on you.

“What?”

“Don’t what me? I must have clocked seven guys just checking you out,” he informed. You rolled your eyes again.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am not. I saw it with my own eyes,” Chris insisted.

“Ignore them. Why are you looking at other men watching me?”

“Because I need to know and be ready to drop one of them if they step out of line,” Chris boasted. You smirked and shook your head. He’d been dropping guys in your name since you were kids. You knew it was a protective gesture, so you didn’t care.

“What about you? I see plenty of eyes slanting over her to check out your baby blues and cabin in the woods beard.”

Chris laughed heartily again. You liked to tease him about his beard.

“You know you like the beard. Don’t lie, puddin’.”

You couldn’t stifle your laugh at the mention of his nickname for you that stemmed from an incident in your childhood. “Are you going to drop one of them for me?”

“Hell no, I don’t fight for no man, honey,” you quickly responded.

“I’m not just anybody,” Chris defended. You took him in for a few moments, but the moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing by your drinks.

The two of you ordered your meals and got right back into talking and teasing one another. You’d missed him, and it was evident he’d missed you too. Dinner was delicious, and the service was spectacular. Chris left a generous tip after he paid the bill much to your annoyance. He knew you hated being kept. You worked hard to make your own money and liked to spend it. When you protested, he overrode your voice and went ahead and did it anyway. He didn’t do it to be sexist; he did it because that was how Ms. Lisa raised him.

After another fifteen-minute ride in a cab, you arrived at a club that Tandy had told you about weeks ago but hadn’t gotten around to going. From the modern exterior, it looked really exclusive. The neon lights were dark but blinding. The colors were all aesthetically pleasing and complimented the fresh slate of the outside. When you walked to the guards in front of the establishment, they looked at you from head to toe and smiled their approval. They then glanced at Chris, who had his head dipped low so no one recognized him. When the guards opened the doors for you, those who were in line groaned and whined their displeasure.

“Oh shut up, or you won’t be getting in at all!” Those in line instantly shut their mouths. You walked in front of Chris down the dark corridor.

“Guess you wore the right dress,” he whispered.

“Guess I did.”

The corridor ended and opened up to loud music and even darker neon lights that gave everyone enough privacy to have a good time however they saw fit.

“Wow,” Chris uttered.

“Right. How long has it been since you danced your ass off white boy?”

You walked down the steps toward the dance floor and turned to him as you began to dance as well. His smile was bright as he shook his head. You beckoned him to you as you continued to dance. When he got in front of you, he began showing you that rhythm he had. He had more rhythm than any white boy you’d ever met, and he took pride in his dance moves. When he busted out some old two-step, you threw your head back and laughed loudly. Chris then wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. The two of you danced and got lost in the music.

It felt good to finally cut loose after such a long time being work-focused. You’d tried to ignore how badly you needed a night out, but right now, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Chris kept his hands respectful as you danced close together. Every so often, he turned you and danced behind you, keeping up with the latest dance moves. You leaned to his ear.

“Someone’s been watching Tik Tok,” you teased. He laughed again and brought his lips to your ears.

“And paying attention to my niece and nephew,” he joked.

After an hour of dancing, the two of you found an empty area and ordered two rounds of drinks. As you drank and swayed in your seats to the music, you shouted at each other, still catching up. The music was so loud that you missed a few words here or there, but because you knew him so well, you knew what he was saying. There were so many instances where you each finished each other’s sentences before laughing together about it.

“More dancing?”

You nodded and took his hand and allowed him to lead you back to the dancefloor. It was even more crowded than before, and you were shocked; he still hadn’t been recognized. He was also surprised, but you could tell he was enjoying his new anonymity. Your moves got sillier and sillier the more you drank, and his got more frat boy as he knocked drink after drink back.

At one point, you ended up in the air being moved through the crowd with you shouting. When you returned to your feet, there Chris was in the center of the circle doing some old school moves that had you laughing. He found you in the crowd and posed. You knew what it meant and panicked as you rapidly shook your head. Chris stamped his foot adamantly and gave you a stern look. You shook your head again, but he was not letting up. Rolling your eyes, you just gave in. He smiled once he saw he’d worn you down. With two nods of your head you ran toward him, he bent and did his best Patrick Swayze impersonation from Dirty Dancing by hoisting you into the air and holding you there. The crowd erupted with loud cheers and hooting. You looked down at Chris and found his eyes already on you. Shaking your head, you giggled before he allowed you to drop into his arms so he could slide you down his body.

“You’re such a dork!”

The night passed in a blur. You drank an excessive amount of alcohol, and after a while, the vibe in the club turned utterly hedonistic. When someone approached you with an assortment of party enhancements, you were shocked when Chris’s hand was the first to fly out for the trey. His only response was “live a little.” He made you look like such a prude sometimes. Since peer pressure always worked, you chose two items off the trey and took one of the rolled joints.

You danced, drank, puffed and passed to each other and allowed whatever you’d taken to take you higher than either of you had been in a long time. When you left the club and climbed into the back of a cab, you could see the sky beginning streak with the impending sunrise. Neither of you could stop laughing about any and every stupid thing. When you got back to your place, you stumbled inside and laughed a lot more before you made it to the living room floor where you sprawled out on.

“Oh my god, do you remember the last time we were high together?”

You snorted and laughed for a little while. “Nope, it’s been months though.”

“What did we take?”

“I don’t know, but all these colors are so vivid,” you responded.

“They are,” Chris answered. Both of you let out a united, “wow.”

Several minutes passed with the two of you lying on the floor in front of the big French window looking up at the sky. You had such a delicious high that nothing felt real or like it mattered. All of your senses were heightened. You could smell Chris’ cologne like you wore it and taste the last drink you had before leaving the club almost forty minutes ago. The material of your dress gently rubbed against your skin, and though it hadn’t felt bothersome before, it sure did now. Even the coolness of the floor felt incredible against your skin.

“Why’d we never get together, Y/N?”

Your snort was loud, louder than it should have been.

“Shut up. You’re so stupid.”

He laughed right along with you before he stopped. “I wanna know. We’ve been friends since we were eleven. I knew you before you got boobs,” Chris reminisced.

Again, you couldn’t help but snicker.

“And I knew you before your balls dropped,” you countered. Neither of you could keep a straight face with that one.

“See. So why?”

You sighed and lifted your leg into the air, not expecting that your heel would fly right off and across the room to knock something onto the floor with a loud clatter. That set you both off laughing uncontrollably.

“Because I know everything about you, and you know everything about me,” you informed.

“Some would say that’s a good thing.”

Looking to your left at him, you scoffed and shook your head. “Not for us. I know too much. We’d never work. Our uglies won’t play well together,” you finished before looking back to the sky.

“Well, I think everything would play well together,” Chris countered this time.

You shook your head and sat up to reach the bar that you knew was close by. Raising onto your knees, you grabbed the first bottle you could reach then dropped down onto your elbows to look at it.

“What’d ya get?”

You looked at him with a wide smile. “Hennessey. How adventurous are you feeling?”

“Crack it open,” Chris answered with a strong Bostonian accent. You opened the bottle and brought it to the head for a few gulps before handing it off to Chris. Then you leaned back on the ottoman that was there. You watched him take his gulp. He wrinkled his nose and blew out.

“How would you handle my tendency to push people away?”

Chris looked at you, took another gulp from the bottle, and blew out a breath again.

“Hmm—not let you push me away.”

You rolled your eyes at his genius plan. “Great plan, dork. How would I handle your tendency to be a flirtatious dick?”

He smiled his signature Chris Evans smile and lifted both his eyebrows. “By knowing I only have eyes for you.”

You snorted and shook your head before you grabbed the bottle. “Bullshit,” you said before bringing it to your head.

“I’m being serious right now,” Chris protested louder than necessary.

“You’re drunk. That is the only reason why you’re bringing this up.”

“Okay, yes. I’m drunk and high as fuck, but that does not make the question any less valid.”

He was being his annoyingly persistent self. Usually, this trait would be a good thing, endearing even, but when he was drunk, it was anything but endearing.

“What do you want from me, Chris?”

“You’ve never thought about us?”

“There is no us,” you pointed out.

“I know that, but you’ve never thought about it?”

You didn’t hesitate with your answer. “No. I mean, not really.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Chris admitted.

You had to laugh then. He was really venturing into unchartered territory. You’d never talked about anything like this before.

“Shut up. You have not!”

“I have. It was brief, but I thought about it,” Chris confessed.

The two of you were silent for a while. Your mind was running as fast as it could, which wasn’t that fast because of whatever party enhancements you’d taken. You couldn’t wrap your head around this conversation.

“And?” Your curiosity was not impaired, though.

“And what?”

“Did we work in your brief thought?”

Chris took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle and took another healthy gulp.

“I don’t know. It was like a flash of a few instances. We seemed—happy.”

“Liar. We probably argued like cats and dogs.”

Your laugher intermingled before you both fell silent again, just watching the sky change its hue.

“Nah—we were good together like always,” Chris finished.

You took the bottle and took three big gulps and almost gagged from the burn in your throat that rushed to burst into flames in your belly. You were quiet for a few minutes, but it was you who looked at him first. Sensing your eyes on him, he looked to you, and the two of you just gazed at each other. It was the two of you who moved in simultaneously before hesitating just when your lips were going to touch. Some part of you said stop, but it was a small, quiet part, every other part of you was telling you to do it.

When your lips touched neither of you moved, you stayed there, letting it sink in. When you did move, it was a slow and cautious kiss. Your lips pressed and brushed together in an intimate way that was foreign for the context of your relationship. Though it was foreign, it felt good. After what must have been minutes, Chris deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth to curl around yours. A moan escaped you, and as if that moan was the hammer that destroyed whatever wall and gate that kept the two of you from going down this path. Chris moaned after you, and it was a new sound for you. You rose onto your knees at the same time Chris did the same thing. He cupped your skull and kissed you more earnestly. Your hand gripped his waist and loved the heat radiating off him.

You kissed him back with as much passion and yearning he kissed you. For several long minutes, that is all you did. It was a feeling to relish, a feeling you wanted more of. You were the first to begin to undo his shirt. When Chris felt your finger graze his chest, he pulled his lips from yours to peer into your eyes. You were focused on his shirt and the goal you had—to get his clothes off. Once the buttons were undone, you pushed his shirt off and looked over his exposed skin. He had buffed up, you thought. When your eyes met, neither of you moved for quite a while. It was as if both of you were taking in the moment and fully acknowledging the line you were about to cross.

Your lips crashed together, and from there, no one could tell where he began, and you ended. Your moans echoed in the quiet room. Chris’s hands touched you everywhere, the back of your head, your neck, the small of your back and your ass. His large hands cupped your bottom and pulled you flush against him. When he pulled your head back by your hair, he latched his lips onto your neck, which had you biting onto his shoulder as you enjoyed the sensations of his lips on your skin. When he nibbled your ear lobe, you threw your head back but grabbed at his pants and began unbuckling his belt. Your movements were quick.

You felt Chris lower the zipper down your spine then trail his finger along your skin until he reached the back of your neck. Once there, he gripped you and angled your head, so you looked at him. You could see nothing but desire in his eyes, and that was all you cared about. You kissed him again and took control. You teased his tongue then nibbled his bottom lip as you finally got his pants open. Chris then peeled your dress off your body, revealing your naked body to him for the first time since you were twelve.

He looked enflamed as if the sight of you set him on fire. You grabbed the bottle from the floor and gulped a mouthful before holding it out to him. You laid back onto the floor just as Chris accepted the bottle and took two gulps from it before he put it to the side and lowered his head to your breast. He sucked it into his mouth and teased it along with the mouthful of Hennessey. As he explored your skin for the first time, you hugged his head to you and arched your back, feeding him even more of your flesh.

Chris brought his lips to your other breast and did the same before he ended on a forceful nibble. He trailed kisses down the center of your body. When he got to your belly button, you watched as he dribbled the remainder of the liquor in it. The wayward glance he offered you only set you on fire even more. He languidly slurped the liquid from the indentation and used his tongue to swirl around it to ensure he got it all then peeled the rest of the dress off of your body with help from your lifted legs.

Slowly Chris spread your thighs and looked between them at your black lace thong. After looping his thumbs at the waist of the garment, he pulled them off of you. When he got the first glimpse of your sex, he sucked in a breath then groaned.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous!” That was the only thing he said before he buried his face between your thighs and began demonstrating all the ways he was good with his mouth. He expertly flicked his tongue across your clit before he sucked it into his mouth only to repeat the action from before. He did it in a dizzying pattern, one that had you on edge and needing more.

You buried your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and began bucking your hips across his lips. His moan was one of approval. He liked that you were using his face to get yourself off that turned you on even more. Chris pressed your thighs back to the cool floor and held them there then took control of the way he ate your pussy. In seconds you saw stars and found yourself panting and muttering incoherently. You didn’t care that you were getting loud; all you cared about was him keeping his pace. Chris dipped his tongue into your heat, and you lost your shit. Screeching out, you came on his mouth as you bucked even more wildly truing to milk and prolonging the pleasure you felt.

“Mmmm, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night,” Chris huskily purred. The dim light that poured in behind him bathed him, making him look like some sort of heavenly creature. He was gorgeous, and you began to wonder if he’d always been gorgeous or were you seeing him in a new light. Chris lowered his head to kiss your inner thigh. Then he dropped a suctioned kiss to your clit that renewed the fire you felt. Lifting your legs, you pushed at his pants, hinting for him to take them off.

Answering your silent plea Chris arched over you, allowing you to use your feet to free him of the confining material. The loud clatters of him kicked off his shoes echoed in the room, but then he remained hovered over your body, showcasing his incredible upper body strength and giving you the first look of grown-up Chris. His cock was long, thick, and mesmerizing. Long gone were the days of him having a skinny pale-looking worm, he’d grown nicely.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Chris breeched. You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

“You’re thinking about the first time you saw it when we were eleven. It looks a lot different now.”

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his waist. “I promise I know what to do with it now,” Chris finished with a smirk.

“Prove it,” you whispered. He shook his head and, but you could see the fire in his eyes. He liked a challenge; he liked feeling like he had something to prove. He crashed his lips to yours again and stole your breath in seconds. You moaned on him and wrapped your arms around his back. The way the muscles there danced and spasmed had you moaning even more.

When you felt him press forward to sink the tip of his intrusion in, you gasped on his mouth and angled your head back, giving him unrestricted access to your neck. Chris groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and continued sinking into you. With each agonizingly slow glide, you came that much closer to falling apart. He stretched you so deliciously, so perfectly that your body began to shake. In no way were you prepared for the size of him, and he was blowing your mind with just what the good Lord blessed him with. It sure didn’t look like much when you were kids. After him feeding you half of his length, you gripped him tightly, which had him grunting before fully thrusting into you.

“Fuck!” Both of you shouted out together, him feeling the full heat of your body and you claiming your second release of the night.

Chris took several deep breathes then slowly pulled back, leaving only the tip of him before he looked down to watch as he filled you to the hilt once again. A whimper escaped him before he did it again, and again and again. Each time he snapped his hip forward more forcefully, and each time your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Chris began to move within you like a wave ebbed at the shore. His eyes met yours, and the moment became even more intense.

After a few minutes, Chris was rocking in and out of you to his own rhythm. It was clear he had one goal, and it was to bring you as much pleasure as possible. his lips tasted every part of your upper body, neck, shoulder, earlobe, collar, nipple and each time he tasted of you he acted as if your skin was the sustenance he needed. After your third orgasm, you flipped him onto his back and rocked your hips against him. Chris arched his back and spread his arms out beside him as he released a deep groan.

He watched your body move and allowed you to take your pleasure from him. Every time you rocked forward, you felt him lurch within you, and after the fourth time, you were addicted to the feeling. Using his abdomen as leverage, you bounced on him as you rocked, changing the angle of which he pumped into you and the intensity of the sensations. Chris gripped your hips and held you where you were before he pumped up into your core.

“Ah, shit, yes! Mmm, fuck me!”

With the demand, you were on your back once again with your ankles on his shoulders, and him hovered over you as he fucked you better then you could remember ever having it done before. He was reaching places you’d forgotten were there. Your skin was peppered with goosebumps, and every time he stoked that sweet spot in you, your whimpers picked up. When you heard Chris’ moans, you used his shoulders as a brace to begin rolling your body like a wave giving as good as you got.

“Fuck!” The way Chris looked at you said he hadn’t expected you to do that, and he was quickly losing his shit. You dropped your legs and pushed him away. You had the strongest urge to have him in your mouth. Quickly you rose to a sitting position before you bent down to lick at his cock.

Chris sucked in a long breath and groaned out with every inch you sank into your mouth. When your lips wrapped around his entire shaft, Chris gripped your head and groaned loudly.

“Oh my god.” You pulled back and repeated the action before you sped your movements. You knew he was close; you could feel it with everything in you. Bringing your hand to join your lips, you worked him with a pattern you knew would be his finisher. As you swirled your tongue around him, he let out a shriek that was music to your ears. Chris sank back onto his heels, then panted and groaned.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Locking eyes with him, you moaned on him but sped your lips. He knew what you intended, and he was powerless to stop you. After the fourth lodge in your throat, you moaned, and just like that, he came. You moaned and took everything he had. Several long moments later, you pulled your mouth free and moaned with a cocky smile. Chris’ jaw was dropped with a look of sheer disbelief on his face.

You grabbed the bottle and took a mouthful of the brown liquor and moaned as the flavorful liquid washed down the mouthful he’d just given you.

“Fuck outta here,” Chris chided, letting his accent shine through. He then grabbed the bottle, took a gulp of his own, and grabbed you before he pushed you over the ottoman. In seconds he’d sank into you again like he hadn’t just come. He was more than ready.

This round, he was in full control, and he used his control to show you just how much he’d grown and how much he knew now. Long gone were the days of him experimenting and practicing. He was a big boy now, and he was fucking you the way big boys did—roughly, deeply and thoroughly. You screamed his name and panted with every snap of his hips into you. When he grabbed your hair to pull you back against him to then gently grab your throat, you lost it. Never in your life had you been into this kind of play, but with him right now, the forceful and dominating way he held you and commanded your body was making you weak and ready to let him take it any way he wanted.

From the ottoman, you moved to one of your couches where he used it at a perch for his foot to give you a deeper, more intense angle that sent you over the edge. From there, he pressed you against the cold window tempting anyone who dared look in to watch as he fucked the life out of you. When you finally came again, you were back on the floor with him over you, giving you slow, deep strokes that were next to impossible to take, but you took it. You took every fucking thing he gave.

-The Next Day-

The sound of the passing garbage truck and then street sweeping machine stirred you wake. Groaning, you sat up only to get shriek when the harsh light beamed down into your face. Shielding your eyes, you waited for them to adjust before you peeped through them and to your right. Your head was pounding, and everything you looked at was blurry.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. Waiting a few minutes, you sat there feeling worse than you’d felt in a long, long time. When you looked to your right again, you saw the nearly empty bottle of Hennessey and groaned.

“Uuugh, fuck you, Henny,” you groaned out before you opened your eyes wider.

You felt a body beside you shift, and then you felt the unmistakable nudge of a dick against you. Your head snapped to the right to see Chris lying there shirtless with your throw blanket draped haphazardly across his man parts. Your jaw dropped as panic began to set in. You looked at yourself and saw you were topless and that the same throw was across your lap as well.

Slapping your hand across your mouth in an attempt to keep any sound from escaping, you began to hyperventilate. Again, the nudge of a dick pressed more forcefully against you. You were horrified but filled with a strange curiosity that you fought with every fiber of your being. You were afraid to move. It was as if you thought if you didn’t move, then none of this would be real. It wouldn’t be real that you’d just had sex with your best friend. So, without moving, you sat there and stared out the window before you.

You don’t know how long you just stared out the window in a daze, but you felt when Chris woke. His groan said he too felt the pounding in his head. You decided not to look his way; this would only get worse that way. You remembered everything.

“Oh—fuck,” Chris whispered. You nodded, knowing the weight of everything had set in. He sat up beside you, but neither of you spoke, you just stared out the window in front of you.

After a few moments, you couldn’t handle being this close, and you got up to realize you were completely naked. Chris instinctively looked over you before he shook his head and looked away.

“Oh fuck,” he repeated. You hurried away toward the second couch and took the other throw blanket and wrapped yourself in it before walking out toward the kitchen. You needed coffee.

As you worked the almost five-thousand-dollar espresso machine in your kitchen, you went over everything that happened the night before. The more you remembered, the more panicked you became. When Chris came into the kitchen, he was dressed with his shirt unbuttoned enough, showing his chest tattoos. He approached the espresso machine as you turned to walk away from it. Your bodies bounced, and with it came another memory of the night before. You abruptly turned and went the opposite way to sit at the nook. You sat in silence while staring into the cup of coffee.

Chris sat with you, but he also remained quiet for several more minutes.

After a few sips of coffee, he spoke, “Soooo, that happened.”

“Did it? Do you actually remember it happening?”

Chris nodded slowly as his facial expressions became more and more animated. “Uh—yeah. I remember a lot of things,” Chris answered.

“Oh, god.” You rubbed your forehead and took a big gulp of the black sludge in your white ceramic cup.

“Where did you learn to do that thing with your mouth?”

“Chris!” Your shock was evident.

“Sorry. Right not important.”

The silence returned and stretched as both of you still struggled to wrap your heads around the last eighteen hours.

“Have you always been able to make it jump like that?”

Chris paused his coffee cup filled hand in midair as he glanced at you. “Did you like it?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up. Not important,” you drilled.

Again, you were silent, just sipping away at your coffee, refusing to address the enormous elephant in the room.

“What about the way you squeezed me? How’d you learn that?”

You slapped your hand to your face. “Oh my god, Chris. We have to forget what happened. It shouldn’t have happened,” you began.

“Yeah, but how do we forget it all? It was a lot. You did things to me—whooo, no good catholic woman knows how to do what you did,” Chris admitted as your jaw dropped.

“Shut up. You’re the one to talk. You’re no good catholic boy. Does your mother know what you do with that mouth?”

When the two of you began laughing together, the tension between you fell away, and you were left with the normal way you always talked. It was comfortable.

“Oh my god,” you groaned out again.

“I don’t want anything to be weird,” Chris quietly began as he looked at you. You nodded your agreement. That was the last thing you wanted too.

“It won’t be. It was a one-time thing. We were really, really, really fucked up.”

“One-time thing,” Chris repeated as you both nodded in agreement.

You finished your coffee and made him a quick bowl of oatmeal that you shared. Though both of you tried to ignore the elephant and forget it was there, it wasn’t so easy. You caught his eyes on the parts of your body the throw exposed as you moved, and you recognized the look on his face. You were sure he caught the way your eyes stayed glued to his exposed chest or his hands as he used them. All you could think about was the way he’d touched you, and the feel of his weight hover you.

You were now in this weird limbo place, and you didn’t know what to make of it. You knew, though, that you didn’t want to lose what you had.

“Ah damnit,” Chris hissed as he looked at his watch.

“You gotta go,” you informed. He nodded and confirmed.

“I have an appearance to film before my flight out.”

“Yeah. Go, go. It’s cool. We’ll talk,” you rushed out.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Chris, get to work.” You smiled, then stood and led the way to the front door. Chris made sure he had everything he needed and stopped in front of it facing you.

“Uh—thank you for last night,” he awkwardly began. You quirked your eyebrow and scrunched your face.

“Uh---.”

“Weird?”

“I mean, it’s like you’re thanking me for sex,” you informed.

“Fair enough. At least I’m not shoving an envelope of a few thousands in your hand,” Chris teased before he got a slap to the gut.

“No thank yous, no I’m sorries, just—go.”

He nodded and came in to kiss your cheek awkwardly. Your eyes met, and they lingered before he pulled back to kiss your forehead. After he did, he turned to walk out the door.

“Jesus,” you whispered.

All you wanted to do was bury your head under your blankets, but you knew you’d obsess over the entire night and think about it way too much. You also knew the chances of you overthinking it and making things worse were almost guaranteed. You decided to keep yourself busy. For the remainder of the day, you ran errands, cleaned your house, and did everything not to give yourself any time to sit and think.

By the time evening came, you got a text from Chris letting you know he was lifting off and that he’d call when he landed. Your reply was typical Y/N.

MSG: Eh, don’t worry about calling. It’s not necessary. Have a safe flight.

When you asked him how he’d handle when you pushed him away, you were being honest. He knew you had this tendency. Even though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he still called. You watched it ring and ring until it ended. That was how things went for the majority of the weeks that passed. Every time he called, you either ignored it entirely and pretended it never happened or sent a meager text a few hours later, apologizing for missing his call. You’d then text back and forth in intervals thanks to his busy schedule until one of you—usually, you let the conversation fade.

A week passed, then two, then four until seven had passed where you’d barely spoken or texted. You knew you were being super weird about things even when you were the one to promise things wouldn’t be weird. You also knew that you were pushing him away, and it was the absolute opposite of what you wanted to do. It was apparent in how you kept up with him in the tabloids and news articles. Every time he had an accomplishment, you cheered for him while sending a dry text showing your support. It was usually a text he responded to with the same dryness.

In that time, you used your work as a crutch and excuse to pile more on to keep busy. You stayed so busy that you ignored the signs of exhaustion your body was sending you. When you passed out at work from severe dizziness, you finally listened and took the rest of the day off to work at home. While in the cab and tapping away in an email, you felt the first bout of nausea. That one feeling had you opening your calendar to go over your dates. When you realized you were over six weeks late, you nearly passed out again.

After stopping by a pharmacy for not one or two but eight pregnancy tests, you beelined it home. It took you a whole hour to get the nerve to take them. You kept putting it off and doing everything else but. Once you took them, you sat on your bathroom floor, surrounded by pregnancy tests. You tried your best to keep your head clear and not think any thoughts. Your phone went off for the fourth time, signifying that the five minutes needed had passed long ago. You’d sat on the floor for twenty minutes, unable to look at not even one test.

“Come on Y/N. You fought for everything in your life. You’re successful, financially comfortable, just look at the damn test.” You took several deep breathes and looked down at the first test to see two double lines.

“Oh.”

You moved on to the next one and bugged your eyes, seeing another pair of double lines. Quickly you moved to the next and read the word “pregnant” in the clear blue window. As you looked around you, each and every text showed double lines, a plus sign, or the word “pregnant.” You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

You were pregnant with your best friend’s baby.

You were pregnant with Chris’ baby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#light of morning fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans smut

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thesunnyshow · 4 years

Text

Name: Bel

Writing Blog URL(s): @skzctnightnight

What fandom(s) do you write for? Kpop: Stray Kids and NCT

Age: 27

Nationality: American

Languages: English

Star Sign: Capricorn

MBTI: ENFP-T

Favorite color: Pink

Favorite food: Chocolate covered marshmallows

Favorite movie: Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Favorite ice cream flavor: Cookie dough

Favorite animal: Dogs

Go-to karaoke song: Do Ya Think I’m Sexy by Rod Stewart or if they have it, Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus (I do NOT go to karaoke anymore)

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): Court reporter

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering?

Coffee! Iced Americano or a Cafe au Lait.

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose? Time stop

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose?

Golden age of Hollywood, but purely as an invisible visitor

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you?

Not at all.

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken?

100 chicken sized horses. Chickens have sharp bits!

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been?

Like a stock character? Cool loser, not so socially awkward you can’t hang out with her, but also just weird enough that you still might not want to.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures?

Sure!

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know?

I can clap with one hand!

When did you post your first piece?

January 7, 2019, 6:38 PM

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr?

Tumblr was my home for years shortly after it began, and I left it before I graduated college. When I got back into kpop, I never knew there was a fic community for it on tumblr! I wanted the sense of community that I missed from first being here.

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why?

I write primarily plotty smut in all sorts of combinations except for crack.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc?

I write X Reader plots! Sometimes my pieces include an element of ships or OC’s.

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most?

I love writing thrillers and mysteries lately, but my bread and butter is developing relationships. I enjoy college au’s and other adult life scenarios, but occasionally I really enjoy finding a perspective I don’t see very often and expanding on that.

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand?

I love friends to lovers, and adore rivals to lovers. I like power dynamics and developing relationships. I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I really do not like fate or destiny or soulmates. I like characters that stumble upon a new purpose, or feel that they’re supposed to be with someone, but I feel like destiny is just too convenient.

Who is your favorite person to write about?

I do love writing Han Jisung with all my heart. I love him so much and he has such an amazing personality to work with. I also love writing my Reader inserts.

What inspires you to write?

I love the satisfaction in crafting a plot and seeing it come together. Making a vision into a tangible piece that you can share and revisit is special, no matter how big or small.

What is your writing process like?

Typically, I mull over a concept for a couple days before I begin a bullet point outline in google docs. The draft gets added and worked on within the outline until the draft is finalized, and then I finally remove the outline framework. This is typically where the title is made with a header image before I proofread. I read one more time while formatting on tumblr itself and then post!

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively?

I take a break, walk away, and come back. If it’s still not there, I write something either related in theme or character or something entirely different so I can get myself worked out. This sort of move has birthed a few side projects that turned into personal favorites.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful?

My favorite completed work is my series Standby. It began shortly after accepting the fact that I had a new bias that I wasn’t expecting and those feelings seeped into the plot and helped it grow. I never expected to get so invested in this little love story. My most successful work is my series Righteous, which my readers know I have a difficult relationship with. I understand why it has fans, but I still struggle with feeling like I could’ve done so many things better.

What do you think makes a good story?

I can’t help but feel like it’s good characters and a good plot together, as cheesy as that sounds. Everything needs a satisfying conclusion and good characters help that to be even more satisfying, even if that conclusion is sex.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work?

I hope the plot comes through, as hokey as it sounds. Some of my favorite comments are from readers who weren’t expecting to be so invested from just reading the tags and description. If I can make someone care for a character and make them want a certain ending for them, then I’m happy.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?

Absolutely! I came from writing original works and the freedom is almost overwhelming at times. You can literally write whatever you want. The key to good fanfiction, though, is understanding the character you’re using and how you are using them in the plot. If the only thing the character has in common with the source is their name and appearance, then what is the point?

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story?

I have absolutely considered it, but only for Prowl so far.

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you?

Feedback means the world to me. Whether it’s incoherent praise, or a full length review, or even just a friendly reminder of a tag I missed, everything is valuable and helps keep me moving. Things can take exponentially longer when I’m solely writing for myself, which is easy to feel like with no feedback or engagement.

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)?

Connecting with other writers has been beneficial and satisfactory in multiple ways. Networks and making friends with other writers has helped me improve and share my work. I really don’t think I’d be nearly as successful without these other writers. The community aspect of our craft makes it stronger.

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged?

Definitely! And more lines get drawn the deeper you get. When tumblr first started and fanfiction(dot)net was still the reigning empire, fanfiction was purely taboo to the mainstream. Every writer was Tara Gilesbie and every work was My Immortal. Let’s be entirely real, EL James becoming a household name changed everything. But the medium is under more scrutiny than other fan work, because talent is less surface than in visual mediums. Every author is assumed to be amateur until proven otherwise, and this stigma thankfully lessens the more a reader becomes familiar with the medium. It’s that introductory phase that really affects things.

Do you think art can be a medium for change?

Absolutely! Even on a small level. In the smut side of the medium, writers are always using their platform to display ideal examples of consent, communication, and how identity is discussed and expressed. Cheesy, sure, but be the change you want to see in the world.

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself?

I always feel as though I’m writing for others, ever since I first got feedback that my work personally affected someone. I write for them, even if I don’t know who they are. They’re just as important to the story as I am when writing it. I do write for myself, because why else would I? I cook for myself, but food is better when shared. I write for myself, but it’s always better when shared.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times?

Considering the ethics of the specific nuances of my writing (real people x reader smut) it’s hard not to feel that way, to be honest.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr?

On a need to know basis! My fiancé knows and is incredibly supportive. My friends know (except for friends on Tumblr), and they’re completely supportive or simply don’t mind and pay it no attention. My mom knows, but she doesn’t know I write smut specifically. No one tell my mom lmao.

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers?

I want them to know I love and appreciate all of them. I do want to know more about what they like or don’t like, but I understand why it’s difficult to engage sometimes.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there?

Make a pen name and create a new you. Does anyone actually think my name is Belmont? When you have your new you, get to networking. Socializing is hard, but making friends who support you and want to share your work is important. Start out with requests and hate and doubt your work like everyone else. That fear is normal, that doubt is normal, but it’s how you use that fear and doubt that matters. Use it as fuel to write, and prove it to yourself.

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr?

Sure! There are some users on here who have too much time on their hands and not enough hobbies so they use their precious time on this earth to harass writers. That toxicity makes it tempting to regret this whole venture.

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey?

I keep saying this and I will keep saying this, but I only started this blog after feeling encouraged by Bea @sluttyten to do so. She’s been such an incredible, dear friend, just like Lexi @hellapainyo who came as soon as I started. Moe @wildernessuntothemselves helped me realize some of my strengths and embrace my writing. Rae @starxblossom is truly my younger sister on the other side of the planet, and I love geeking out or plotting together. Yue @yueliangs-wonderland is such an inspiration and dear friend of mine. I can’t imagine being here and enjoying myself like I do without her. There’s so many more, and I love all of them.

Pick a quote to end your interview with:

“What critics call dirty in our pictures, they call lusty in foreign films.” - Billy Wilder

BONUS ROUND: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

#@skzctnightnight #thesunnyshow #featuredauthor #episode 30 #nct #stray kids

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Keep Trying: Nat

CW: Blood (like a lot of blood), implications of gore but no actual real gore, infected wound, referenced/implied past noncon/dubcon, referenced past abuse, referenced abusive relationship, very sick whumpee. Pet whump and dehumanization (referenced).

TIMELINE: Comes just after The Freedom to Run in Kauri’s story, right after Jenna kicks him out of the first safehouse he tries. References events in The Surgery . Blink-and-you’ll miss it character details for a side character.

The Jack referenced belongs to @spiffythespook and the Tara referenced belongs to @fairybean101

Tagging the Kauri crew: @im-not-rare-im-rarr, @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

Nat found him under a bush.

Most people might have been a bit more surprised to discover a young man curled into a tiny ball underneath the line of heavy landscaping that went around her property, but Nat had been at this a long, long time - eighteen years, give or take - and this wasn’t the first time she’d found a runaway curled up asleep in the shade of the leaves.

Sometimes they weren’t even runaway pets, just kids who needed to escape the rain, on their own or on the run from bad home lives. Kids the shelters turned away or who had maxed out their time, needed somewhere to crash for a day or two before they made the rounds again.

She didn’t care - Nat took care of anyone who came to her for help. Only the pets ever came into the house, though.

“I thought he was… I don’t know, an animal or something at first,” one of the rescues whispered, wringing her hands together.

She stood hunched over with narrow shoulders curved forward, drowning in a T-shirt at least three sizes too large, but it was all the poor thing ever wanted to wear. That and sweatpants that covered every inch. It was all the rescues ever wore, until they started to feel like their bodies belonged to them again. “I came to check to see if the bushes had flowers yet and I found him and I thought he was dead? I thought, I thought I should come g-g-get you, but then when I, um, I was going to get you the shovel because if it, if it was dead… but then he made a sound and he wasn’t an animal, and-”

“I understand, Krista,” Nat soothed, rubbing a hand in a slow circle on the young woman’s back. Krista relaxed at the touch and leaned back into it - the rescues usually came either horrified by touch or desperate for it, with no in-between. “I’ll take care of him from here. You did the right thing coming to get me. Now, maybe you should head inside.”

Krista nodded quickly, one hand to her mouth, chewing at her fingernails nervously. She hadn’t done that when she first showed up, too thin and nearly mute. She’d been dumped by her owner and found by a good Samaritan who took the time to find a storefront and drop her off.

The storefront had called Nat and Krista had been here ever since, going on three months now. She was a pretty thing, if faded and harried-looking, and she was fairly sure she was from somewhere near Tennessee - nearly across the country.

And she’d started biting her nails.

While biting fingernails wasn’t a habit Nat would normally encourage, she had a feeling it was parts of who Krista had been starting to show themselves, so she didn’t stop her.

Once Krista had gone back into the house, Nat stood with her hands on her hips, looking. It was still early morning, and the sun had only just barely begun to paint the deep blue-black sky with hints of pink and orange and, she thought with a hint of irritation, a bright and bloody red.

Red sky in the morning, farmer’s warning, her dad’s voice said in her head. Man had been gone for twenty years, and Nat never stopped hearing him. Never stopped feeling, in her mind, like maybe she still needed an adult to help her figure out what she’d done with her life and to give her some advice on the trajectory her life had taken since she was a twenty-two year old freshly graduated psych major shown a salary, a benefits package, and challenging work she couldn’t refuse… until she had.

She’d sort of lost her way - or found a better one - and become the den mother for a neverending rotation of frightened dehumanized amnesiacs who were, legally speaking, not even full people, but property.

Sometimes it occurred to her, with a bitter humor, that she had funneled, over the course of nearly twenty years, millions of dollars of stolen property through her old five-bedroom, three-story house in a town that had grown into a suburb with time and urban sprawl.

She was a goddamn criminal, but she couldn’t say her father wouldn’t have been fucking proud of her for picking the right side to fight for.

The boy curled up under the bushes shifted a little, the rustle of sticks and decaying leaves and dirt underneath him, and Nat dropped into an easy crouch, resting her elbows on her thighs and tilting her head.

Her braid slipped down towards her right shoulder, and more than a few strands of graying brown hair hung over her eyes.

“C’mon, kiddo,” She said, not bothering to keep her voice to a whisper. The boy shifted a little, rustling in the leaves. “Time to get up and moving.”

No one else in this neighborhood was up - and it wasn’t a great neighborhood, so even if anyone did get up they were fairly safe here. Everyone kept to themselves, and most of them understood why Nat did what she did.

The pets were unobtrusive - they came and went and kept to themselves - and so the neighbors pretended they didn’t see a thing. In return, Nat pretended she didn’t know what most of them were up to, the ways they made money in a city where the wealthy nearly never had to even look at the poor. It was a good enough system to get by.

“Hnnnnh, can’t,” the boy whispered. “S-sorry, not… I don’t… feel s’ well.”

She could see him a little better now. Black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt - the rescue uniform, she thought with warmly affectionate dry humor, they all came out of captivity craving comfortable loose things that didn’t show any skin. Black curly hair - or maybe dark brown, he was shadowed under the leaves so it wasn’t clear. Eyes closed, long dark eyelashes, clammy pale skin with a sheen of sweat across his forehead…

And a lot of blood staining the front of his sweatshirt. A lot of blood.

Nat’s eyebrows raised. Rescues turned up in all sorts of shape, but they rarely showed up still bleeding. Usually by the time they made it to her, someone had bandaged them, someone had cleaned them up.

The boy was curled up around some kind of dark green bag, clutching onto it, and when he shifted hearing her voice, Nat watched his fingers close even more tightly around the rough canvas fabric.

“’m sorry,” the boy whispered, in a voice surprisingly deep for his delicately wrought looks. Clearly a Romantic, she thought, but this one looked like he’d been stabbed. “Think I'm… s-sick… please, just st-stay with me, Mr. Owen, please…”

Nat swallowed, reached out to lay a hand across his forehead. Mr. Owen.

Must be the owner’s name. Hope this isn’t an owner’s work - this poor thing has lost quite a bit of blood…

She didn’t crinkle her nose or pull back at the sticky sweat, only took in the heat that seemed to be boiling just under the surface. Some of that curly hair was plastered to his forehead, bits of leaves and sticks stuck in it from where he’d been lying, apparently for some time.

“Sick…” He rasped, leaning into her touch, pushing his forehead against the palm of her hand, shivering a little and managing a faint, tremulous smile at the touch. She didn’t react to that, either, although it seemed like confirmation that he was definitely a pet on the run.

“I think you’re more than sick, sweetheart,” she said, low and soft. Not threatening, not cajoling, just a calm, even tone. “We need to get you into the house, take a look at…” Her eyes dropped down to the bloody mess that made up the chest of his sweatshirt. “…that.”

If he was the kind of sick that had him throwing up blood, that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“Jack…” He managed the word, drawn out too long, taking one syllable and turning it into two, to three. “I can’t go back f’r him yet… Jack, Jack might b’hurt…”

“Don’t worry about him just yet, honey,” She said softly, trying to think. Maybe another pet from the same home? Bonded pairs that got split up never did well… it had been years and Nine still acted like a shadow grieving the one he’d lost…

Stop it, Nat chided herself. ‘Bonded pair’ is company language. You mean the ones that are friends, that care for each other. He left someone behind, that’s all.

She glanced over her shoulder back towards the house. Krista stood on the front steps, biting her thumbnail, watching them with wide eyes.

“Krista, love,” Nat called. “Can you go grab Jake and Trev? We’ll have to carry this one.” Krista nodded quickly - the rescues mostly obeyed any order thoughtlessly until they were further along in recovery - and ducked back inside.

Nat turned back to the boy, only to jump when she realized his eyes were open. Wide blue eyes, a little glassy, barely seeing her. Even with his chalky pale skin, even with the sweat that seemed to coat him like dew, even with the blood…

“Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous,” she said softly. “I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere before… where did you come from?”

“Please,” the boy whispered, reaching out to grab onto her wrist. There was dried blood on his hands and Nat swallowed, hard., at the heat and odd strength of his grip, even as his hand shook. “Please. Jack n-needs help. S’my… my fault… him and, and… both of them, s’my fault…”

He started to cry, tears leaking out, making tracks in the layer of dirt and grime and dried blood on his face.

"Hoo boy,” Nat said softly. “You’re a mess, aren’t you? The guys will help me get you inside and we can talk a little more about what happened to you once you feel better. Can you help me understand why you’re bleeding?”

The boy nodded slowly, dazed, and pulled down the neckline of his sweatshirt.

Nat, who had seen a lot in her time helping the rescues and who had grown up working alongside her dad in the fields and with the cattle, recoiled in disgust from the sight - and the smell.

He hadn’t thrown up the blood - it had come from the open fucking wound that stretched from the ball of his right shoulder all the way across his collarbone, where it ended just over his breastbone. She could see the remains of some kind of bandage, but it had long since fallen apart and it wasn’t exactly doing him any good right now. “What the f-”

Behind her, the screen door slammed open and she heard the guys talking to each other as they thumped down the steps and headed her direction. The boy heard them - he flinched and looked in that direction, hazy eyes unable to focus.

Trev made it first - Nat heard his quick intake of breath as he saw, too. “Nat?” His voice shook, just a little - Trev had plenty of scars and this couldn’t be easy for him to see, either. “Is, um-… Krista said you needed help?”

Jake was on his heels - Jake who looked like a linebacker but was more of a lamb, a lib volunteer that Nat had always been able to rely on.

While Trev nervously backed up, Jake simply dropped into a crouch next to her, meaty forearms resting on his legs in an unconscious echo of Nat’s posture. “New rescue?” He asked, mildly, as though he didn’t see the blood, the shredded and destroyed skin across the boy’s chest, bandages so soaked in blood that you could barely tell them apart from the wound itself, and his bleary, unblinking eyes.

“New rescue,” Nat confirmed. “And he’s been fucked up all to hell. Sounds like he left some other pets behind when he ran - I’m guessing he ran because of that mess.”

“Nooooo…” The boy’s voice trailed off until the word was more of a whimper. “No, didn’… I didn’ want to, had to… I had to…”

“Sssshhhhh.” Nat ran a hand back through the sweaty, dirty hair, and the boy shuddered and made a noise low in his throat, the pathetic little gratitude-sound so many rescues came out of captivity with, the desperate thankfulness for any touch that didn’t hurt. “Ssssshhhh, sweetheart, just calm down. We need to deal with the bleeding before we can deal with anything else.”

“Got that right,” Jake muttered, considering. He was unfazed by the blood, absolutely calm in the face of the deepest violence, and that was one reason Nat kept him close at hand. “Trev-”

Trev, standing just behind and to the left, flinched and shook his head. “No, Jake, I’m… I’m sorry b-but, but you know I don’t l-like blood, that much… so much blood… is, is he okay?”

“He’s rocking one hell of an infection, from the sight and smell of things,” Nat said heavily. “He’ll be all right, though, I’ve got some strong antibiotics in the spare room and I’ll call our doctor to come over and check him out-”

“No!” The boy grabbed her again, eyes wide and white-rimmed. “N-No, no, no doctors, no clinics, no no no, please, please-”

Nat swallowed, hard, glancing at Jake, gently freeing herself from the boy’s grip. “Well, that tells us something, doesn’t it?”

Jake nodded, short and firm. Something like fury entered his usually placid, kind face, took the blocky jaw and turned it to solid stone.

Trev spoke, a little tremulous. “Wh-what does it tell us, Nat? I don’t un, understand.”

“He’s Whumpees-R-Us, that’s what it tells us - and whoever owned him used their onsite clinic, which means he’s local, so…” Nat’s voice trailed off as it sunk in exactly why the boy looked so familiar to her.

She’d seen his picture on TV a couple of days ago, some press conference his owner gave with Karen fucking Renford standing next to him - and if Nat never saw that bitch again, it would be too soon. She’d seen a face just like his, only a few years older, at nearly every multiple-lib-group meetup she’d ever been to.

Vincent Shield the goddamn movie star slinking in with sunglasses and hats and big scarves to keep anyone from knowing who he was and giving their locations away.

This was Vincent Shield’s perfect fucking clone - this was Owen Grant’s runaway Romantic, that’s who this was.

This was fifty thousand dollars in reward money for anyone who gave a tip that led to him being recovered - recaptured - and returned to - dragged back to - his owner - the piece of shit treating him like property. This was a runaway Romantic pet - a traumatized rape victim fighting for freedom - and if anyone knew he was here, Nat’s whole operation was in danger, just like that.

“Shit,” Nat whispered. “Shit shit shit.”

Her heart began to pound inside her chest, and she looked up sharply, taking in the mostly-empty street, everyone still inside their houses as the sun began to fully rise. This kid was on every news channel, the company spending tons of money to get plenty of airtime proving that people like Nat were the villains, stealing sweet happy pets away from their loving owners - and here was one big risk half-conscious and giving off a sick smell and impossible body heat under the bushes in her front yard.

If she was smart, she’d do nothing. Leave him here, give him maybe some antibiotics and stuff for the road and tell him to move along, he was too recognizable. He looked exactly like Vincent Shield, just like all the rumors said, now that she was close to him and could really get a look at his face.

Some of the others had seen him in some video or something, but Nat wasn’t much for technology and she hadn’t seen any of it herself. She didn’t like watching videos of pets in captivity - made her sick to her stomach. She preferred nursing them back to remembering they were human.

But this one could get her raided, could bring the thing she’d spent eighteen years building crashing down on all their heads. She could go to prison once they figured out how many fugitives she’d harbored, how much of the company’s hard fucking work she’d undone.

It was the least she could do - she’d been one of the ones to build the fucking company in the first place.

“Nat?” Jake asked, his voice uncertain. “Nat, I don’t like that expression you’ve got going right now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a good one. This is, uh, this is… this boy’s trouble on two legs, Jake.” At his confused expression, she shook her head. “This… is Owen Grant’s boy.”

A moment for realization to sink in.

Then Jake’s face went white.

“Holy fuck,” He breathed. “Yeah, I got a call from another shelter about him. Jenna said he’s a fucking mess and he’ll fuck us all over, that he’s in fucking love with his owner. Fuck fuck fuck, shit, he’s going to fuck us over, Jenna said he wants to go back. That he really is still in love with the sick fuck that owned him.”

“That’s not new. Krista was, too, when she first came.”

“Yeah, but… shit, Nat. What do you think? What do you want to do?”

“Wh-what do you want to do?” Trev echoed. “What do we do?” The poor love did a lot of echoing when he got scared - his owner had apparently done a lot of forcing him to repeat things when he was bad- had the good sense to question his situation. Nat tried to calm her expression back down to its usual patient warmth.

“Don’t worry, Trev - I’m sorry, when I called for you I didn’t realize what we were dealing with. You take Krista and get back inside, I’ll take care of this with Jake. Thanks for coming out, you’re a huge help, you’re always so reliable for us. I really appreciate you. Can you please stay in the back rooms until we’ve helped this poor boy?”

Trev nodded quickly, tight little jerks of the head with a smile of sheer relief, and then backed away from them and all but ran back into the house, Krista right on his heels with only a quick worried glance over her shoulder.

“Think they’ll be holed up in their rooms before we ever get this kid back inside?” Jake said - not a question, really, just a statement of fact.

“Yep,” Nat replied. Her mouth tasted bitter, suddenly. The boy was still watching them, his eyes shifting from one to the other and failing to focus.

“She’s out of charge,” The boy said in a voice like a hoarse rasp. He didn’t seem to have heard anything they had said to each other, or didn’t hold onto it long enough. “I can’t wake her up. Need t’ charge her. Listen, listen, I don’… I don’ want to stay, I’m sorry… jus’, um, some medicine and I’ll… go… ‘m sorry, I can’t, I’m dangerous… I’m, I’m dangerous, I’m sorry, Jack, I’m so sorry-”

Nat and Trev glanced sidelong at each other, and Nat finally just gave a firm, short nod, and reached out her hands. “We can talk about that inside, sweetheart. Let’s get you into my house, I can clean you up, okay?“

Fuck it all, she’d never turned a rescue away before, and she’d be damned if she’d start now.

Fuck you, Renford, and all you fucking soulless pieces of shit, for what you’ve turned these poor kids into. I made a mistake, twenty years ago, when I helped you lie to them. I won’t make another.

“Then I… I gotta go back t’Jack,” The boy said, in a voice that suggested he was arguing with her - or someone, anyway - inside his head, an argument Nat hadn’t actually been privy to. “He, he, he helped me… he helped… I got them both hurt, I got them both-… fucking, feels like my veins are on fire… h-hurts… I got him hurt. I got Jack hurt.”

“Do you know where Jack is?” Nat asked, keeping her voice low and gentle, monotone, but her eyes moved back and forth, constantly checking the street for signs someone was watching them. She saw nothing, and Jake was looking, too. No one was paying attention to them, at least not right now.

“I don’ know… hope, hope he’s okay, hope he’s… I j-just, I shouldn’t have… he was just, he was nice… he helped me… Shit, h-hurts-”

“I understand. I’m sure it does hurt,” Nat said, brushing at his hair again, watching the boy shift around under her touch, trying to press into it even though she was a total stranger and he had no way to know she wasn’t exactly as dangerous as whatever he had left behind. The shit they’ve done to them to make them this way… “Listen. We can’t fix the hurt until you come out from under my plants, sweetheart. Can you move by yourself?”

“Th… think so.” The boy nodded and shifted slowly, pushing himself out on his stomach until he was out from under the bushes. Jake had to pick him up from there - he couldn’t seem to stand on his own, let alone walk. He tried and fell, tried and fell, and finally Jake simply scooped him up, sweeping an arm under his knees and behind his back.

He hung limp in Jake’s arms like a ragdoll, blue eyes focused on the backpack right up until Nat slung it over one shoulder - “Fuck, what’s in here, kiddo, this feels heavy” - and then he finally drooped, tucking his head under Jake’s chin, his forehead pressed against the side of Jake’s neck.

“Jesus fuck, this kid is burning up, Nat,” Jake said, a little worriedly, as they walked back towards the house.

“Yeah, well, a giant gaping infected chest wound will do that to you,” Nat said calmly enough. “I need to make some phone calls. Can you take over the medical stuff until Dr. Masood gets here to look him over? I don’t think our in-house shit’s going to help him do anything more than hold it off. I’ll call him first, and then make some more calls, so you’re den dad until I’m done.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Everyone. As of the second I step foot back inside my house, we are on full lockdown - no contact, less risk that way if this kid is what Jenna says he is - and I want them all to know why. Nobody but the ones who’ve already met him gets to know his name or details, Jake… just that we’ve taken in a risky one and we need a couple weeks to figure out where we stand.”

“Got it. House on lockdown until you tell me otherwise.” Jake shifted the boy in his arms, who whimpered in pain and clung to him more tightly, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “You think he’s really going to turn us in?”

“No,” Nat said flatly. “I think he would have gone back already or turned himself in by now, hurting like this. You don’t just walk around with something like that under your shirt unless you’re really fucking determined. But I don’t need the others on the phone lecturing me about taking him in, either. This boy needs help? We’ll give him help. That’s what we goddamn do.”

Jake nodded, firmly, a hint of a smile on his broad face. “That’s why I choose to stick with your house, Nat. I like that you don’t turn ‘em away.”

“Yeah, well. Tell me how much you appreciate that when this kid gets us up to our necks in trouble.”

Jake glanced down at the boy’s face - eyes clenched shut tightly, breathing in harsh, shallow little gasps so that his chest moved as little as possible. “I don’t think he will.”

“Hmph. Jenna clearly thought differently.”

Jake hesitated, then said softly, “I feel for her, but you know it wasn’t really him Jenna was kicking, right?”

“Yeah. I know. What do you think Nine was up to while they were throwing this kid out just for being what WRU trained him to be?”

“I imagine he was sitting in the fucking attic, Nat, that’s the only thing he ever does.”

“Fair. Nine definitely keeps to himself…” Nat stopped on the small front porch, wood creaking beneath her feet, turning to look at the boy who still stared at her, blue eyes unblinking. “You know what… I’m gonna call Vince myself. He should know what happened, he’s been a wreck ever since they announced the kid was missing after that whole… mess with the-… you know. He’s been absolutely sure Grant killed him and is using the whole runaway thing as a coverup for the murder.”

“You sure about that?” Jake blinked at her. “Maybe call Tara instead, Vince can be kind of… emotional-”

“No.” Nat shook her head. “I’ll call Vince. Honestly - Tara might already know he’s popped up and been turned away, if Jenna called you she definitely made a whole damn round of calls to everybody. Maybe this won’t be a surprise.”

Jake cracked a grin at that. “Oh, man. I bet Tara had her half-deaf from yelling at her for it, too. I can hear her voice. ‘Hey, you want a great way to get a pissed-off pet to get your safehouse raided, how about kicking it out for no reason, Fucknuts McGee? Get your shit together, Jenna, or you won’t have a fucking safe house to go home to’. Tara hates when people are shit to the Romantics.”

Nat couldn’t help herself - she laughed, and the boy in Jake’s arms startled and then settled back down, whimpering again. “That sounds like her. God, we’d be half of what we are without her fire. But… still. Jenna’s just scared. We’re all a little scared, if we’re smart. Helping rescues that might not want the help is… it’s a risk we take.” She sighed, and reached out, brushing hair from the boy’s forehead. His eyes fluttered slowly open, hazy and unfocused, drifting over her face and then snuggling himself harder into Jake’s arms.

Poor thing. A total stranger who could just be the next one to hurt him, and he still clings hard to any sign of kindness, even if it’s false. I’m partially responsible for this - for all of them - right from that first poor boy I helped sign their fucking contract.

She could still remember the first one she had lied to, remember the name he’d signed on his contract. Isaac Thompson. Sweet guy, worried, thought he was signing up for a self-help program for his anxiety…

Nat swallowed back the bitterness of the memories.

She knew, after all, what had happened to Isaac Thompson. She’d seen him since, what was left of him. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do for him, not now. Her first great crime couldn’t be forgiven… but she could work to the bone to find atonement through all the others that had come after him.

“Have to help Jack,” The boy whispered. “Will you help me go back to him?”

“In a little while. Honey, before we get started helping you… what happened to you?”

He blinked at her, then looked down, as if becoming aware of his absolutely blood-soaked shirt for the first time, then wrinkled his nose - maybe he hadn’t known how he smelled from the infection until just then.

Then he smiled.

It was a soft, dreamy smile, and it made Nat’s blood run cold - underneath the shivering, frightened, soft hurting boy they’d found in the bushes she saw the first sign of something made of furious anger underneath.

“I happened,” The boy said softly.

“You did this to yourself?”

“He promised,” The boy said, his voice cracking and broken. “He promised me and he lied, and he said I could see him again and it would be okay, but it, it wasn’t, and… he lied about everything. I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t be lied to anymore. There wasn’t anything left to believe him.”

Nat slowly nodded. “What did he do, honey?”

The boy shook his head. “He lied.” His lip began to tremble, and when he spoke his voice was airy, breathless, but thick with tears. “S-So I cut his fuh-fucking lies out.“

Then he began to cry, hoarse cracking sobs that made fresh blood well up, tears rolling down his face, leaving tracks that dried too quickly against the feverish heat of his skin.

All Nat could do was nod one more time and open the door so Jake could carry him in. Jake held him close, whispered soothing, soft, comforting nonsense words to him.

Jake didn’t flinch away from the smell of the infection, or the fever. He didn’t mind, it seemed, the blood that smeared along his own shirt, the sweat from the boy’s skin that was left as a film on his. Nat loved Jake - and her rescues did, too.

He was the strong pillar of comfort that the Romantics needed, without expecting or wanting anything out of them in return. He was the perfect introduction to a world where you deserved to ask for comfort without having to worry that comfort meant giving away your body one more time, in a life where you didn’t remember a time when someone wasn’t taking it anyway.

By the time they’d laid some plastic out on the couch and put the boy down on top of it, he had slipped back into semi-consciousness, babbling to Jake, seeming to think he was someone else entirely, some name that rang as familiar in Nat’s mind but wasn’t anyone she knew, she didn’t think. He seemed to think Jake was another pet, but that was common - there hadn’t been another in Owen’s household, but that didn’t mean the boy had never met any.

She stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath, putting her hands briefly up over her face. She was alone - for once, Nat was perfectly and totally alone - and she let the guilt knock her over like a wave, let it run up and down her body, filling in all the empty places with a chorus of this is your fault, you helped them make this happen, you were one of the first employees, you you you you you.

She allowed herself only a few seconds - maybe a full minute - of the guilt. Self-pity, in her life, was a kind of luxury. Then she shook herself all over, set it to the side, and walked over to the cell phone lying on the kitchen counter, picking it up, looking at her contacts list. A series of numbers without names or labels, the burner phones they all bought and passed around to make sure no one number was associated with an address anyone might actually use it at.

You can’t be absolved for the things you’ve done, Natalie. You were the Pied Piper, once, and you can’t ever wipe away that it’s your fault, in part, that all these poor kids have lost their minds in the deepest, most complete sense of the word.

No… you can’t make the past any different. You can only make the choice to try and rebuild the foundations you helped that bitch learn to tear down.

She had a lot of phone calls to make now. First, though…

“Hey,” Nat said into the phone when the first number she called picked up. “Yeah, it’s me. Look, uh… Vince, is Tara with you? No? No, that’s okay, this is really a call for you anyway. You might want to, uh, to get ahold of her after you hear-”

A pause.

“Yeah, okay. Look. I have… some weird fucking news.”

Nat glanced over her shoulder, to see the boy in the couch holding tightly to Jake’s hands, and Jake leaning over to listen to him with an expression of reassuring total focus on his face.

“Weirder than that. Vince…”

The boy pushed himself up on his elbows, saying something slurred and urgent to Jake that Nat couldn’t quite hear. Jake slowly leaned forwards and rested his forehead against the boy’s, whispering back.

Nat smiled, just a little. God, she loved Jake. Couldn’t do the work she did without people like him.

Jake, who knew when a rescue needed to be left alone, or just talked to, or knew how to balance affection just right when the Romantics filtered in, touch-starved and terrified. Jake, who had a perfect instinct for when someone needed to be shown that you could even be touched in ways that weren’t designed to break you all over again.

“… Vince. Owen Grant’s boy is alive, and he’s in my living room.” There was a pause, and in the pause Jake smiled into the boy’s face and gently laid his hands back down. Nat felt tears prick her eyes. Even after eighteen years of trying to save them, sometimes it hit her with real force that while she couldn’t undo all the damage that had been done, she could keep trying.

Then Vince’s voice caught her off-guard - or not his voice, but what he said - and Nat froze.

“How long until you can see him? Have you lost your fucking mind? Are you drunk? It’s seven-thirty in the-…. You are drunk. Jesus. Vince. Sober up and call me back if you still think… no. Sober up first. If you still want to see him, tell me after… I don’t think it’s a good idea, but-… Fine. Okay. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, trying to think as she punched in Dr. Masood’s number next.

The wrong kind of attention and this boy could get her put in prison, her rescues hauled back to hell to be repaired or retrained or God forbid, refurbished. People like Jake would get put in jail for aiding and abetting if they were lucky, but Jake had a kind of fresh handsomeness to him and Nat was fairly sure he’d never see the inside of a jail cell… no, if this went south Jake would wake up in a white room, wearing a white shirt and black shorts, and since he knew all the tricks it might take a while, but soon enough he’d be a number and not a name.

Especially now that they had proof that it was happening already…

No.

She couldn’t live her life in fear of what could happen if she did the right thing. She could only keep trying.

They had to keep trying.

She couldn’t make up for Isaac Thompson and all the others, but she could keep trying to make up for it until the bitter end. Maybe, one day, it would feel like she had done even close to enough.

“Dr. Masood? I need you to come make a house call.”

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veinsandknuckles · 3 years

Text

Long hard road, pt 2

So, this is a new part 2, making what used to be part 2 part 3. Makes total sense, right?

Vimes/f!Reader Slow burn AU where Vimes isn’t married. Will definitely become hard R down the line. Content warnings: none Read part 1 here, part 3 here One sunny day about two weeks after Stone’s arrival, you found him lurking in a shady corner of the courtyard, leaning against a crate with an amused expression on his face. Today you were shirking so you followed his gaze to see what he was seeing.

It was Conrad and one of the local boys, around thirteen or so, engaged in a mock battle with a stick each for a sword. They weren’t playing, either. Conrad stopped every other minute to give minute advice with an air of great authority. Stone nodded to you when you joined him. “He’s always fancied himself a bit of a strongman, I think,” you said by way of a greeting. Conrad did have endless stories about his adventures, and it was fun to keep track of the details he got wrong with each retelling. “He’s got the posture down, I’ll give him that.” It really was the kind of form you’d see in an instructional engraving; shoulders drawn back, chin in the air and his free hand behind his back. The boy caught him a blow on the outside of the thigh and Conrad loudly discounted it as unsportsmanlike. It was hard to tell if the kid was actually holding on to his every word, or just playing along for the excuse to beat a grown man and get away with it.

“Could you do better?”

Stone looked over at you with a suspicious frown. Then he shook his head. “You can’t bait me that easily.”

You nodded to the sword at his side. He never left the inn without it, and as plain as it was, it couldn’t be because he worried about it going missing. “So, what, you just carry that thing to impress the ladies?”

“Good grief.” But he must be in a good mood because then he smiled with a faraway look in his eye. “You know, I did try that for a time in my youth. When things grew desperate.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where that idea came from in the first place.” Conrad had backed the kid up against a wall with the point of the stick at his chest and looked a little too pleased about his victory. “In my experience, any excited talk between women about a big sword and the like is usually intended as a humorous metaphor.”

“You give men too much credit if you think we can tell the difference.” Stone still smiled, but you knew his words were a little too true for comfort. It was interesting that he could join in with this kind of talk so easily as long as it remained impersonal.

When Conrad turned his back to return to his starting position, the kid whacked him with his full strength across the leg. Conrad howled and nearly lost his balance. You couldn’t help laughing and the two knights in training finally discovered their audience. The boy bolted, Conrad scowled and limped off towards the kitchen, throwing the stick to the ground as he went.

“Show’s over,” said Stone and stood up straight. “Suppose I’d better get my own exercise in while there’s some daylight left.”

“Want some company?”

He sighed with an expression that was half amused, half irritated. “Do I have a choice?”

Of course he did, but if you said so he’d feel obligated to turn you down. He had to be able to tell himself he was being befriended against his will. After all, if he really wanted to avoid you, you knew he was more than capable of being impolite enough to say so. “What do you think?”

“Fine. A short walk, then.” Stone gestured for you to choose a direction and you headed out through the gates with him beside you, falling quickly into his leisurely pace.

The thaw had gotten an early start this year and everyone was fooled by it into hoping it would last, despite years of experience to the contrary. Every winter it was the same way - half a week of mild, sunny weather and not even the born locals could help thinking that this time it might be different, this time spring might arrive a month before it was due. Perhaps it was just human nature to talk big about expecting the worst and getting suckered despite of it.

Stone seemed a wonderful exception to this rule. There didn’t seem to be a silence thick enough to tempt him into speaking of the weather. He walked beside you, occupied with his own thoughts, completely at his ease.

“How long do you think you’ll be staying with us, mr Stone?”

He snorted. “Not a moment longer than I have to.”

The road you followed clung to the side of the mountain and bordered on the other side to dense pine forest growing from almost vertical ground. The little buildings of the inn huddled together on one of the wider plateaus and marked the edge of real vegetation before the path continued up towards the pass. You had just reached a bend in the road, a perfect vantage point to take in the stunning view of the mountain range to the side and the valleys below. On such a clear day, you could see the wide river even from here, snaking through the landscape like a silver inlay.

“How is it possible to tire of all this?”

Stone raised his eyebrows and regarded it dispassionately. “It’s just nature.”

You laughed. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Since when are you so in love with the place? Thought you were bored to tears.”

“I’m not,” you conceded and tore yourself away from the view. “Just making the best of it.”

Stone took the lead now and followed the next trail leading in between the trees.

“Why not leave?”

“And go where? To do what?”

“I don’t know,” Stone shrugged. “You must want more than this, surely. You could settle down, start a family...” His ears caught up with his mouth and you saw him screw his eyes shut and shake his head.

Because of course the height of every woman’s ambition is a husband and children. You laughed and elbowed him in the side. “Mr Stone, are you offering to take me away from all of this?”

“Hah!” For once, he looked more amused than uncomfortable with the suggestion. “That’s me, walking model of fairy tale prince.”

“I’d say you’re more like the dangerous, good-for-nothing rogues that my mother should have warned me about. I’m sure you’ve left a few broken hearts in your wake.”

Stone snorted. “Right. You’ve really got me pegged.”

You bit your lip and kept watching him, but he was resolutely focused on the trail ahead. It didn’t seem like false modesty; he really did seem completely ignorant of his own charms. How could he not be, if he mistook every kind of flirtation for a joke?

Perhaps you weren’t his type. It happened. Not every man was ready to pounce on every opportunity that presented itself. Perhaps he didn’t want to pounce on anything in the first place.

But if that were the case, surely he would say so, instead of sarcastically playing along or pretending to misunderstand you. Whatever other obstacles may present themselves, the first and largest was that he wouldn’t believe you.

“Oh well,” you said. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he said, as if wishing he could. “But I can judge you for having poor taste.”

That was exactly the kind of comment you could hardly interpret as anything other than encouragement for you to continue.

“Are you asking to be complimented?”

Stone half turned towards you with a look of startled dread. “Absolutely not.”

Exasperated, you rolled your eyes and decided to drop it for the time being. “Fine. You pick a subject, then.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Stone couldn’t pull himself back together. The silence was thick and uncomfortable and you could have sworn you saw him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you with some earnestness.

“Do you... er. Have you lived here long?”

“A few years.” The poor man really was ready to scrape the bottom of the barrel, but you felt like you owed him a little help in steering back into safer waters. “You’re from Ankh-Morpork, aren’t you?”

The little path forked up ahead and Stone chose the path that looped around to the other side of the inn. He really had explored his surroundings. “I suppose that’s not much of a secret.”

“The accent is pretty strong.”

“Huh.” He sniffed. “Your Morporkian is, er... it’s very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Must be from reading all those books.” He’d seen you read once, but apparently that was enough to set you down as a confirmed book worm.

For a while, you walked together in silence and slowly his ruffled feathers seemed to settle down. It was beautiful out here, every shadow in the snow a rich blue, every dapple of sunshine glowing peach and gold as the afternoon wore on. Your footfalls made a pleasant, hypnotising creaking sound with each step you took.

Before you could think it through, you asked a question that had been weighing on you for some time. “Is it safe for you to be here?”

There was a pause. “...for me or for you?”

Oh gods. “Either, I suppose.”

Stone thought this through. He looked very weary.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

You tried to smile. “I guess I wasn’t too far off with the ‘dangerous rogue’ thing, then.”

“Well, you knew that already.”

“Yeah... next time you should have a backstory and name picked out before you introduce yourself.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he replied drily.

Despite everything he’d said (and failed to say) and despite how incredibly intimidating he could be, it was impossible for you to view Stone as a threat. If he had tried to make himself likeable or if he’d tried harder to bullshit an excuse for being here in the first place, it would have been another thing altogether. He didn’t seem as if he wanted anyone to like him very much and that indifference was predictably irresistible.

He was just so... self-contained. He seemed perfectly content on his own and perfectly careless of his reputation. His attitude towards whatever danger he was in seemed to consist mostly of boredom, as if he was just waiting to get it over with and wasn’t all that invested in the outcome. In many ways, he was untouchable, and of course that only made you more desperate to try. It was also very difficult to believe he didn’t have to fight people off with a stick.

You should really know better. So far everything had gone his way, which meant he could afford to be a gentleman, but who knew what desperation could drive him to do? When his reality caught up with him, you might all be acceptable casualties - to him as well as to whoever, or whatever, was chasing him. Somehow, all these facts were trumped by a strong gut feeling in his favour and here you were, walking beside him feeling as safe as if you’d known him for years.

The inn was coming back into view. Stone was deep in thought, but when the climb to get back onto the road got a little steep, he scaled it ahead of you, turned and offered his hand to help pull you up.

It was big, rough and warm - you felt the heat of his skin even through your mittens - and yours seemed almost to disappear into his grip. With a slowly creeping flush you realised that your attraction to him had grown much quicker than you had intended it to. Soon, if he kept deflecting your advances, you might find yourself too shy to continue them or, if you were very careless, growing lovesick.

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped onto the road and he immediately let go. You worried that you might have sounded a little too breathless and sincere.

“Course.” Stone cleared his throat and walked briskly towards the stables. “And, er. Thank you for the company. Although,” and he shot you a glance, “it shouldn’t become a habit. Seems all people do round here is gossip.”

“Of course.” You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to, but it was very sweet of him to care about your reputation. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were a loose man.”

The shadow of the house crossed your path and Stone immediately seemed more at ease when he stepped into it. You could sense that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts now and so you forced a little smile and waved him off. A curt nod, and then he slunk in among the buildings, off to do whatever mysterious things usually filled his time.

#sam vimes #sam vimes x you #sam vimes x reader #discworld fanfiction #sam vimes imagine #my fics

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random-imaginess · 4 years

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prompt17 sebastian x dying/dead(your choice)!reader thanks already 💞💞💞

A/N: This one took a little bit to post because I wanted to do something good with it! If I try really hard to make something sad, it usually backfires on me, but hopefully I did OK. I’m not a medical student or anything, so a bunch of this stuff might not make sense, but I did do some research as I went along, so hopefully it’s not a complete lost cause.

TRIGGER WARNING: Death, very brief mentions of blood, heartbroken Sebastian, lots of tears

Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Sebastian burst through the hospital doors soon after he had gotten a call that you were brought in. He wasn’t given much information, just that you had been involved in a head on collision and you went in for emergency surgery. He frantically talked to one of the nurses, trying to get more info, but he was just asked to wait in the waiting room and he would be notified once the doctors were done operating.

He had no patience, though. He paced around, bit at his fingers until they bled, and called a few people before finally settling down in one of the hard chairs, his leg bouncing like if he stopped it would fall off. Anthony had shown up for moral support, along with a couple other of your closest friends. Hours had gone by before a doctor finally came out to speak to him, a grim expression on his face didn’t give Sebastian much hope that what he’d hear would be good. But he ignored it, he just wanted to be told that you were going to be OK, that you would make it.

Sebastian looked at him with pleading eyes as he waited for the doctor to tell him something, anything, but these situations were never easy. “She’s stable, for now,” he started. “She was brought in, had some x-rays done. She has several broken ribs due to the collision and one had severely punctured a lung, so she was taken in for an emergency operation to try and help secure her breathing and help it to heal on its own. Her left leg is broken in two places and a severe neck sprain….”

As the doctor went on, Sebastian had a hard time focusing on his words. Several broken ribs.. punctured lung.. what else was he saying? “Is she going to be alright?” Anthony had chimed in, asking the question they all wanted to know. The question Sebastian had been meaning to ask but couldn’t make any sound to do it. The doctor hesitated briefly as he figured out a way to tell them delicately. “It’s touch and go right now. She’s in and out of consciousness, but there’s a high possibility she could slip into a coma. After that it’s a waiting game.”

Sebastian could feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach as he was gathering the information. How was he supposed to wrap his head around any of this. It all felt so surreal, like it was some excruciating nightmare that he desperately wanted to wake up from. “Can I see her?” He finally spoke, his voice cracked.

The doctor knew what the outcome would ultimately be, you could see it on his face. “Just you. I can have a nurse direct you.” Sebastian nodded and looked to Anthony like he was seeking some last minute advice. Anthony placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a subtle nod before sending him off. “We’ll be right here. Take as long as you need.” Sebastian nodded and quickly followed the nurse down the hall.

Everything had happened so fast, he didn’t know how to properly prepare himself. He expected the worst but hoped for the best, but somehow he still wasn’t ready for what he saw when he entered the room. You had all of these tubes and wires attached to you, a breathing mask over your nose and mouth, dried up blood that stuck to your skin from the deep gashes that were scattered around your face. Sebastian took a deep breath in as he tried to keep himself strong. He needed to be strong for the both of you.

He pulled up a chair and sat down at your bedside, delicately taking your hand in his. His thumb gently caressed it as you stared down at it, your soft skin feeling like silk to his touch. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on what could happen to you, but it was hard to drown it all out. He looked at your face now, sniffling quietly as he shook the dark thoughts from his head.

“Hi, baby… can you hear me?” He tried to speak as loudly as he could. Your eyebrow twitched and it encouraged him to keep talking. “Everything is going to be just fine, alright? You’re so strong, and you’re a fighter, I know you’ll pull through this. You just need to wake up, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” His grip grew slightly tighter to yours as he desperately tried to keep hold of you, as if letting go would cause you to be lost forever.

His eyes dropped from your face as tears finally fell silently down his cheeks. The sounds of the machine beeping being the only cause of hope. Both of your lifelines.

He was tracing light designs on your wrist as he thought of other things to talk about. Maybe if he brought up happy memories, it would help bring you back. He chuckled quietly as a memory came to mind. “Do you remember our first weekend away together? We stayed at that cabin up in the mountains for new years.. We took separate cars because you wanted to stop at the store for something, but when you finally got there, you burst through the door so distraught because you had accidentally hit a rabbit on the way up,” he laughed a little louder, looking up at your face. “And I swear I’m not laughing because you hit the poor thing, it was just a bizarre situation. You felt so guilty for killing it, and there was so much emotion in the way you were telling me what happened; and despite how hard you were taking it, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking, ‘wow’”, he whispered. “I love this woman.”

“You’ve always had so much compassion for other things, and people. Even when they didn’t deserve it. It’s always been one of the traits that I admire most about you, how you could care so deeply for things. But I knew very early on how special you would be to me. How special you are.” He sniffled again and pulled your hand up to his face, pressing his lips gently against it before leaving a kiss. “We still have so much we need to do, baby.” He sniffled again, shutting his eyes tightly to clear away the tears. It was then that your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment for them to adjust to the bright lighting before you moved your head slightly to look at him.

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he let out a gasp, his breath catching in the back of his throat. “Hi, baby. You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok.” He smiled happily at you, your hand brushing against his cheek as he continued to hold it. For a brief moment he could have sworn he saw a smile from under the breathing mask. But it was too brief. The monitor on the other side of your bed started to beep loudly as your eyes shut again, causing Sebastian to stand up, not knowing what to do. “No. No, no, no, no. Y/N, please! Please.” He cried out, wanting to shake you but not knowing where to place his hands so he wouldn’t hurt you. “Please, please don’t leave me alone.”

A flat line took place of the beeping and Sebastian stood silently in his spot, his eyes scanning every inch of you for any kind of sign of breathing. “No..” he whispered, his hands being drawn to your hair as he gently held your face. It took him a long time to register what was happening. He looked at the monitors, the numbers reading zero as it flashed red. Nurses ran in and looked over the situation, one of them trying to pull Sebastian away to give them room, but he didn’t want to let go of you. He couldn’t leave you.

Everything was happening in slow motion as he watched them try to revive you, but it was no use. A few minutes later they had called your time of death. When sound finally came back to Sebastian’s ears, he could hear the nurse telling him that they would give him a few extra minutes to say his goodbyes. Say his goodbyes? He glanced briefly at the nurse before sitting at your side again, your hand in his, focusing on the warmth of your skin that was slowly fading.

He would have stayed there forever if he hadn’t of been escorted out of the room. He walked past Anthony and the rest of the group that he had forgotten about, a blank stare on his face as he made his way for the exit for some fresh hair. As soon as the cold hit his face, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and let the tears fall freely from his eyes, bending forward slightly as his hands rested on his knees to help keep him standing.

This wasn’t real. It was only hours ago that he was talking with you on the phone, listening to your cheerful voice as you made plans to go out, envisioning the bright smile you had on your face, and now… now…

After a few minutes he straightened himself up, taking in a deep breath as he tried to center himself again and he looked up at the sky. He wiped away at his eyes, taking in a couple more deep breathes. He didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to do now, how he was going to accept any of this being real, if he would ever be able to, but he needed to find the strength to go back inside and at least face everyone who had showed. There was no doubt they already knew what the outcome was, but they deserved some kind of answer.

Taking a few more minutes, Sebastian wiped his eyes once more, took in another couple deep breathes and turned around, slowly making his way back inside.

#fuuuck i messed this up #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #random-imaginess

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mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

129. Knuckles the Echidna #26

The First Date (Part One of Three): She Loves You… (And You Know That Can't Be Bad!)

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Chris Allan Colors: Frank Gagliardo

So this arc is kind of… eh, awkward and dull. There's really no action, and it's all centered around love and dating and whatnot like we're suddenly watching a bad will-they-won't-they sitcom. Everything is extremely heteronormative - like look, I get this is the 90s, but everything is about "boys and girls" and just ends up sounding really juvenile as a result - and everyone is really out of character, too. I mean, do Knuckles or Julie-Su seem like the types to wander around all lovesick like shallow high schoolers? Not to mention the Chaotix, especially Vector, are… well… ugh, let's just jump into this and get it over with.

The Chaotix are hanging around in their usual burger joint, when Espio mentions that recently he's heard some surprising news about Prince Charmy - namely, that he's gotten engaged!

Now, you remember how a while back when the Chaotix were first introduced I had to clarify that unlike in the games, where he's six years old, in the comics he's sixteen? This is one of those moments that completely threw me when I first read the comics, because I had been operating under the assumption all this time that he was six. Now, obviously sixteen is still pretty damn young to be getting engaged, but I was sitting here with my eyebrows furrowed wondering why Charmy's friends didn't seem more concerned that this six year old child suddenly had a fiancée. I thought that his parents had arranged his marriage to Saffron (for whatever reason her name is misspelled in this issue, with only one F) and that by going back to his role as a prince he'd basically doomed himself to having his love life strictly controlled. But no, I guess somehow in the short time since he left the group and went back home, he got into a serious enough relationship with Saffron that he proposed (or hell, maybe she proposed, who knows). It's possible there was still pressure from his parents considering his heritage, but for now we can only assume that it was a totally voluntary action on his part to get engaged to Saffron, which is just… really, really weird.

Now Vector is very displeased to hear this. Vector is, in fact, something of a gigantic sexist douchebag in this issue, talking big about how no woman could handle him, prompting Espio and Mighty to joke that Julie-Su is more than his match if they were to go head to head in a fight. We then cut to Julie-Su angrily and viciously firing her blaster while shouting about Knuckles "running out on her."

Geez, man. You think her insurance covers blaster burn marks on the walls? She's mostly angry because she wants to talk to Knuckles one on one, but he's not there with her right now. He's with his father, in some kind of apartment-like space within Haven (it's not really clear, but I'm assuming Haven given we're talking about Locke here) as his father makes him breakfast. Out of nowhere, Knuckles asks his father about "why boys and girls get together," prompting Locke to immediately spit out his coffee. Knuckles, unfazed by the sudden brown-colored backwash all over the table, starts going on about how whenever he's around Julie-Su, he feels "weird."

This is maybe my least favorite part of Kenders' worldbuilding in the comic. Apparently, the Soultouch is an instant romantic attraction between two members of the opposite sex amongst echidnas, essentially love at first sight. It's not outright stated, but in case you haven't guessed, this is why Julie-Su so abruptly left the Dark Legion when she first spotted Knuckles many issues ago, feeling like she "had to find him" but didn't know why. Knuckles asks that if the Soultouch is accurate, why Locke and Lara-Le ended up splitting up, to which Locke shrugs and says that he doesn't know, but even the best of relationships require a lot of work, which is maybe the most accurate thing written in this entire arc. Knuckles then utterly hilariously, and completely accidentally, makes his case for homosexuality by saying he thinks things would be easier if guys stuck with guys and girls stuck with girls, noting that he gets along way easier with his male friends and "doesn’t even think about other girls." Kenders clearly wasn't meaning to characterize Knuckles as a closeted gay, but that's how it comes across and it's amazing. Let Knuckles be gay if he wants, man!

Meanwhile, out on the street, Espio and Mighty start challenging Vector's flippant attitude toward women, taunting him that he probably doesn't even have the backbone to ask a girl out on a date right now. Vector, his fragile masculinity sufficiently rattled, stomps away and begins casing out the women in the area in perhaps the most uncomfortably out of character series of panels I've ever seen.

*sigh* Kenders… why in the unholy hell… did you think this was okay? Remember the sweet but clueless Vector in Sonic X who did his utmost to help Vanilla out and give her nice things because he had a crush on her, not caring about how "hot" she was or that she was a single mother with a little kid? Yeah, this isn't him. Ugh.

Julie-Su, meanwhile, has had enough of moping around in her apartment and takes a walk outside, trying to think of ways she can improve herself and become more confident. She happens to pass by a clothing boutique and glance inside, and as she muses to herself that perhaps she needs to stop being so serious all the time and learn to have a little fun - probably a good idea, considering she was part of a technological military group for so long - a passing echidna suggests to her that she go inside and try out the hat she was absentmindedly staring at. She's startled, but allows herself to be led inside by the echidna and an attendant of the store.

I very much disagree that it's "so her" - I feel like Sarah-Connor-style badass tank tops and combat boots are more her aesthetic - but regardless, the echidna encourages her and then invites her out for lunch. Fun to contrast his polite and complimentary approach towards Vector's more misogynistic one, huh? Back in Haven, while Locke is out of the room, Knuckles' musings are interrupted by Archimedes poofing in and immediately noticing his lovesick state. Upon hearing that Locke was rather awkward in trying to explain the source of his feelings, Archimedes offers his own advice for Knuckles' problem which basically boils down to "you'll never know if you don't take the plunge." Knuckles, encouraged, stands up and has Archimedes poof them away, and a second later Locke walks back in, surprised to see the room empty. Back in the streets, Vector is still trying to "score" to prove himself to Espio and Mighty…

That is the most uncomfortably-drawn swan I've ever seen. Like… why in the world does she have boobs? She's a bird! Birds don't need boobs! Argh! Archimedes poofs Knuckles straight into a restaurant, apparently having homed directly in on Julie-Su, because there she is, out to lunch with Raynor the echidna who asked her out, and to Knuckles' shock, she's holding his hand… better make a move fast, man, cause this polite dude is gonna win her over first!

Friend in Need

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Manny Galan Colors: Barry Grossman

So I think this is actually the first KtE arc that has a secondary story at the end of each issue - previously, they've all had one story taking up the full span of the pages. This story follows Mighty, in which he is approached by Nicolette the Weasel, who prefers to go by Nic due to her full name "not sounding tough enough for a bounty hunter," and who is Nack's previously-unmentioned sister (and looks exactly like him but with eyelashes and a crop top, because girl). She gives Mighty a red collar, which in shock he realizes used to belong to Ray the Flying Squirrel, whom he used to know. He agrees to come with Nic on her latest treasure hunting venture, providing the brawn she needs in exchange for his chance to look for what happened to Ray. While they're flying to their destination, Mighty becomes lost in memories of how he met Ray, leading to one of the most jarring character revelations next to "Charmy is a prince" - all we've ever known about Mighty up till now is that he has super strength and likes hanging around on the Floating Island, but apparently, six or seven years ago he was captured by Robotnik's forces and taken to a goddamn slave labor camp, where he found himself on a prisoner transport cart along with Ray. Ray had a very bad stutter, most likely due to fear and trauma, but was still kind to those around him, and Mighty began to look after him even though he was shackled due to his strength. But unexpectedly, one of the other prisoners on board this cart was Sonic! Keep in mind, we're talking about a cart full of eight year old children that Robotnik was shipping off. Mighty was skeptical of Sonic's confident attitude, with Sonic claiming that he was there to break everyone out, and that Robotnik didn't suspect him since he was only a child and up until recently adults had been carrying on the fight. However, with recent losses, the Freedom Fighters formed by Sally in the Sonic Kids special started taking up arms against Robotnik as well.

Let that sink in, man. This is why the leading members of the resistance against Robotnik were children and young teens. All the adults were dead or roboticized. Anyone who could have fought was gone. These children had no one else to stand up for their freedom; circumstance forced them to step forward and take the lead instead. Remember what I was talking about a while back, about Sonic having trouble settling down after Robotnik's death and how he was so used to war as essentially a child soldier that even in peacetime he found himself unable to relax? This is the true horror of the war against Robotnik. King Acorn's abrupt disbanding of the Freedom Fighters several issues ago may have seemed dismissive and uncaring, but in the end, his point of view does make sense - he doesn't want literal children robbed of their chance to, well, be children. Just think of how many main characters, and hell, even side characters, thought for so long that they were orphans until their family members started turning up after the war. Think about how many are still orphans for all their know - where are Amadeus and Rosemary Prower? Where's Bunnie's parents? Antoine's mother? Amy's parents? That is what the war against Robotnik cost society. It's actually kind of chilling.

Anyway, Nic wakes Mighty up from his train of thought as they land at the site of the now-deserted labor camp. Mighty is a little jumpy, still reluctant to trust Nic fully, but suddenly an unexpected face makes her appearance…

Fiona? As in, the robot that Tails supposedly fell in love with right before his solo adventure? She's a real person? And Mighty somehow knows her? Oh boy, there's a lot to cover here…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #kte 26 #writer: ken penders #pencils: chris allan #colors: frank gagliardo #pencils: manny galan #colors: barry grossman

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serendipitybutterfly · 5 years

Text

OK so finally got the chance to get in the zone and tune in for Jimin's birthday year ahead advice reading and.... I don't really know what I was expecting (actually I kinda thought reversed queen of wands would return... But yay! She didn't!) but this reading was more strangely intense and high vibrational than I thought it would be... Although, to be honest, intensity and Jimin just go together right? Anyway, here is our cutie, sexy, lovely boy's year ahead advice reading~

OK so the first thing I always talk about is what cards came as significators of a reading because those cards basically set the tone of the reading; giving an idea as to main issue or subject of the reading. In this case, as I was asking for advice for Park Jimin's year ahead, the significators are indicating the most important theme of his year ahead... And what was that? Well the 3 of Pentacles and 8 of Pentacles scream it out loud; WORK!

This might make you think its going to be a hard, hectic or stressful year but... Actually, based on the rest of the cards that's not going to be the case. Rather, aside from the literal hard work involved in his actual job (which he infact mostly enjoys) this 'work' is also on a deeper, personal, mental and spiritual level. It's a sort of coming of age thing... Putting the work into yourself, into sorting your life out and being who you want to be... Again, as I think I've mentioned in a few of these readings, this is your typical mid-twenties stuff (I say as someone in their age group who knows haha).

Ok so the first card that came out was the Sun which, first of all, I love that for Jimin. You don't even know... He's in the place of The Sun and he's BEEN putting in the work to keep himself there! That isn't easy! There's a stubbornness to this Sun which I feel is emphasised by the reversed Strength card. It's like... "I'm going to stay happy and positive, despite feeling vulnerable sometimes... Despite feeling weak... I'm only going to focus on the bright side of life now." And, I just feel so proud of him for that because I can feel the effort and discipline that takes for him... It definitely doesn't come easily... It actually takes soooo much strength which is why the reversal of the Strength card seems to have this interesting duality here which actually really suits Jimin so well. He should keep on this path of conscious disciplined positivity and bask in the sun shining on him right now.

The next two cards are strongly related to this first message. We have the Ace of Cups, a golden goblet overflowing with love, being offered down from the heavens together with the 7 of wands in reverse. Part of deciding to make a conscious effort to think positively and live in the sunshine of his life is allowing the immense love he has been blessed with in his life to flow; accepting the love he is offered without putting up defenses and second guessing everything, wondering if he deserves it or can accept it... Instead he should let it flow as water should, freely, back and forth. Accepting (and being able to recognise!) love that is freely given with an open heart makes it easier to give love in return with the same heart in a way that is pure, safe and healthy and doesn't hurt anyone involved. When you can accept that you do deserve to be shown great love, you are much less likely to be drawn to destructive situations or people who would hurt you...

Which brings us to the next message which is all about that. The reversed Devil and the 3 of Swords are telling me that there's a lesson in the year ahead about cutting out and off the things and people that no longer serve him in life and which only cause him pain. This is again, part of the hard work of living in the sunlight. As long as you're still chained to the things in the shadows, there will always be some temptation drawing you back... But these cards tell me that this is something he will also be putting the work into this year. Positive living, looking after yourself, mentally, physically and spiritually, means cutting out negative influences and habits and I think Jimin recognises what those are in his life already.

OK, now the next two cards jump right back into Work! This time, on a more literal level. The Chariot and the 7 of pentacles are talking about seeing things progress, move forward and come to fruition due to hard work. I feel these two cards are really speaking about his career and projects he may be working on on his own. They're saying that there's success at the finish line after the hard work of running the race, so Jimin, you nice, keep going.

The last two tarot cards are very interesting in this reading... Because there's a literal turn here... We started with the Sun and now we have the Moon bookending this reading... These two cards, The Moon and The 3 of Cups had a strange feeling of vagueness to me while the messages of other cards came through very strongly... I think that's what I'm supposed to get though... I think Jimin himself will feel very uncertain about this situation, whatever it may be... And i feel that whatever it is hasn't even fully begun to solidify as yet (which maybe means it's something that could arise later on in the year ahead?) ... I'm not sure. It just feels very vague... Well, the Moon is there so... Shrug. All I can say is that he will have a feeling of uncertainty over some situation /s involving working or interacting within a group... Which is interesting considering this reading is so focused on him as an individual, to get this at the end... But, like I said, it's so very vague... Hm... Perhaps the message is that, while Jimin's definitely being encouraged to be introspective and work on himself this year, he shouldn't forget to also maintain a strong connection with his friends and people he cares about... I can't see that happening tbh... But then again who knows...

The Doreen Virtue Angel Oracle Card I pulled for this reading was Shanti. It reads:

I am the angel of peace. I bring you new tranquility and a smoother road ahead.

This is definitely speaking to this work on maintaining a bright and positive state of mind... Literally being at peace with himself. I love it!

The Earth Magic Oracle Card I pulled was Full Moon: Completion... Which was so perfectly placed above The Moon tarot card...

I also got this card in Jungkook's reading and I think it's saying something similar here in Jimin's. It's about things coming full circle and being ready to step into a new phase of life. With Jimin's reading I'm really get a sense of freshness... Like this emphasis on cutting out negativity and living cleanly and brightly... This is the energy he wants to work on stepping into now. Again, I love it.

The numerology of this reading is the master number 99. Super high vibration of completion, of seeing the bigger picture, of allowing things to flow... Again, I feel this sense of stepping into manhood here with this reading. There's such a powerful energy of maturity and selfdiscipline here which he will be able to tap into this year in order to manifest the state he'd like to be in... Amazing stuff.

All in all, this was a really positive and powerful reading and I love this for Jimin! Cutting out the things that drag him down and consciously striving to move forward with discipline in a more positive direction in all aspects is just such a great and mature decision. Once again, happy birthday Jimin! Love will always follow you because you're just bursting with love yourself! 💜 💜 💜

#Happy birthday Jimin!#park jimin #bts tarot reading #Birthday tarot reading #Jimin's year ahead tarot reading

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thistleclaws-hatred · 4 years

Text

Chapter Two

These first few chapters will likely be shorter than the rest. I have a rough chapter/page length guide in my head for this, but we’ll just see where it goes.

Allegiances

Previous chapter Next chapter

“Well Thistlepaw, you want to see our territory?” Adderfang asked the bristling apprentice.

“Of course!” Thistlepaw started, but he felt his eyes being drawn towards Snowfur, “There’s just something I have to do really quick.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready to go. Maybe eat something before we leave,” Adderfang said.

Thistlepaw nodded and walked off, “Hey, Snowfur!”

The white she-cat looked at the bounding apprentice, “Thistleki-uh, Thistlepaw!”

“Congratulations on becoming a warrior,” Thistlepaw purred.

“And to you as well for becoming an apprentice,” Snowfur touched his flank with her tail.

“Now I just have to train harder than anyone and I’ll become a warrior faster than any other apprentice,” Thistlepaw puffed up his chest, standing a little taller. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bluefur almost-glaring at him and Snowfur.

“I wish you the best of luck with that,” she laughed, “You’re going to make a brilliant warrior. Probably one of the best fighters in the clan, maybe even the whole forest!”

Thistlepaw smiled at her words, “You really think so?”

“Of course! I’ve been battling with you these past few moons and I’ve seen you’re strength first hand,” she leaned forward to touch her muzzle to his cheek, “I’m just glad you’re a ThunderClan cat.”

Thistlepaw blushed, folding his ears back and looking away, “And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Snowfur purred and nudged him off, “Go on your tour. No sense in keeping Adderfang waiting.”

Thistlepaw touched her flank with his tail as he turned to leave, “Adderfang, I’m ready to go now.”

Adderfang said his goodbyes to Juniperleap and beckoned for Thistlepaw to follow him. “You and Snowfur, huh?”

Thistlepaw blushed and ran forward ahead of his mentor. Finally, the top of the ravine. His eyes widened at the sight of the bright forest in front of him. Green and brown leaves decorated the floor and the trees above him shook with the wind and the bushes on the forest floor shuddered with the chill. The apprentice fluffed up his fur to block out the cold.

“You will feel the chills of leaf-fall and leaf-bare more so in the woods than you will in the camp,” Adderfang explained, watching his apprentice look around his new surroundings. “Anyplace you want to see first?” “I can pick?” Thistlepaw asked.

“Of course,” Adderfang laughed.

“The Great Sycamore?”

“Good choice.” Adderfang headed left towards the famous tree, padding off at a speed that the new apprentice wasn’t accustomed to.

Thistlepaw tried to keep pace with the older warrior as best as he could, feeling the pads of his paws become sore with each step he took. His legs were already aching and his first day had barely begun. Pathetic. He told himself.

The trees around him suddenly spread out and before the two toms was a massive tree, bigger than any of the others in the whole territory. Its leaves stood strong on its branches and below it was a series of small hollows. “Mice like to live under the tree due to how many nuts are dropped from squirrels and birds in the branches,” Adderfang explained. “Try to see if you can hear any mice.”

Thistlepaw strained his ears as hard as he could, but the wind around him blew too hard for him to hear anything other than a hollow shriek in his ears. “I can’t.” He said, disappointed.

“Yes, you can. Just focus, aim your ears towards the trees,” Adderfang encouraged.

Thistlepaw took a deep breath and perked his ears, angling them towards the massive tree. In some distant part of what he was hearing he could pick up small scuffles underneath roots and leaves, “I can hear pawsteps?” He looked at his mentor.

The mottled brown tom nodded in agreement, “Another day I will teach you how to hunt and you can try your luck around here. For now, let’s continue with the tour.” Adderfang padded back into the woods, not even waiting to see if Thistlepaw was following.

The young apprentice took one last look at the behemoth of a tree and then took off after his mentor. “Where are we going now?”

“Snakerocks. Stay behind me once we arrive,” Adderfang ordered.

Thistlepaw said nothing but fell further behind the larger warrior. Adderfang flicked his tail in approval. “The snakerocks are famous for the adders that live in the cracks. The occasional sparrow or mouse can be found around there, but more than anything it is used as a useful training ground.”

“Useful training for what?” Thistlepaw asked.

Adderfang stopped suddenly, in front of the pair was a high pillar of rocks. Thistlepaw could see dark cracks and holes spread out among the pile and shuddered at the thought of adders. Directly in front of the rocks though was flat ground. “Battle training,” Adderfang answered.

Thistlepaw perked up at the sound of that, “When do we start that?”

Adderfang huffed out a laugh at his apprentice’s enthusiasm, “Not for a moon or so. First, you must master basic stalking and climbing. Then, and only then, will we begin battle training,” the warrior explained, “I started my battle training three weeks into my apprenticeship.”

“You must’ve been a fast learner!”

“Very. I also had an excellent mentor that wasn’t afraid to push me,” he turned to face Thistlepaw, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You’re a large apprentice and I’ve seen your...play-fights with Snowfur. You have amazing potential and once I’m through with you, you will be a valuable warrior to ThunderClan. But first, you must train hard and listen to everything I tell you. Not just me though, other warriors and elders have valuable advice to give you. Take what you need and apply it, and you will be feared throughout all clans.”

Adderfang’s words touched Thistlepaw’s heart, causing a series of happy purrs to escape the young apprentice. “I’ll be the best warrior ThunderClan has ever seen! I fought a ShadowClan warrior last night.”

“You got lucky. If Windflight hadn’t been there, Foxheart would’ve flayed you,” Adderfang chided. “You showed bravery, but not smarts.”

Thistlepaw was hurt by his mentor’s words but understood what he was saying. “I understand. I’ll listen to my elders from now on.”

“Good, because when we get back, I'm going to have you clear out the elders’ den and get them new moss. We’ll stop by the RiverClan border on our way back and I’ll show you where the really good moss is.”

------

Thistlepaw was dragging his paws by the time he entered the ThunderClan camp again. His paws stung and every step was agony in his bones. “Make sure you clean out the elders’ den before you eat,” Adderfang commanded as the warrior dropped a wad of moss next to the apprentice.

“Yes, Adderfang,” Thistlepaw tried his best to not sound exhausted, but even speaking was hard at this point. The RiverClan border had been farther from camp than he had expected and the overwhelming scent of fish had jostled the young tom.

Thistlepaw padded over to the elders’ den and placed his moss right outside, quickly running back to grab Adderfang’s. He saw Leopardpaw and Patchpaw entering the camp, each with a load of fresh-kill in their mouths. His stomach grumbled at the sight of a squirrel in Leopardpaw’s haul, but he knew he had to tend to the elder’s first.

Sighing, Thistlepaw walked back over to the elders’ den and peaked his head in. Mumblefoot, a pale orange tom with a graying muzzle, looked at the apprentice, “Here to change our bedding?”

Thistlepaw nodded in response, watching the tom shuffle out of the way, “You’re lucky I’m the only one in here. Larksong wouldn’t have taken too kindly to be woken up from her like fifth nap of the day.” Mumblefoot joked.

Thistlepaw tucked that comment away in his memory and dragged his claws along the topside of the moss inside the den, collecting it into a small pile in the corner. “First day, yes?” Mumblefoot asked.

“Yeah,” Thistlepaw answered to be polite.

Mumblefoot hummed in acknowledgment, “You must be tired then. Finish my part first and I’ll sleep in order to let you work.”

Thistlepaw dipped his head and moved over to where Mumblefoot was sitting, clearing out his moss and putting it in the dirty pile. Sticking his head back outside the den he saw Windflight and Poppydawn sharing tongues with Sweetpaw and Rosepaw. Thistlepaw longed to be with them but knew he had to finish his task first.

Carefully picking up the clean moss, he placed it flat in Mumblefoot’s section of the den, “I’ll finish this part,” the ginger tom gently moved Thistlepaw out of the way, “I know how I like my moss.”

Thistlepaw focused on cleaning the rest of the den, even though each paw-stroke was agony to his muscles, but he managed to finish before Larksong or Weedwhisker had returned. As he left the den, he saw that his family was no longer together and felt a pang of sadness.

The fluffy apprentice went to the fresh-kill pile and collected a mouse for himself. Sitting alone near the entrance of the apprentices’ den he ate in silence. “Hey, Thistlepaw!”

He looked up from his dinner, looking at Lionpaw who was walking towards him. The large golden tom sat next to him, “How was your first day?”

“Honestly? Exhausting.” Thistlepaw confessed.

“Makes sense. When I got back on my first day I swore that I would never walk again. Your body will adjust,” Lionpaw explained, taking a bite of his vole.

Thistlepaw took a moment to look over the other apprentice. His eyes flowed over Lionpaw’s sleek golden fur and hardened muscles underneath. “When did you start battle training?”

“Swiftbreeze began teaching me basic battle tactics right after my first moon of training. She said a hunter’s crouch was required to master before we could begin,” Lionpaw answered.

“Adderfang said the same thing,” Thistlepaw sighed, dejected. “I just want to start now.” “There’s more to being a warrior than fighting your enemies.”

“What kind of a warrior are you if you can’t defend your own clanmates?” Thistlepaw countered.

“Well, we aren’t warriors yet. We’re apprentices, still training. You just started training. Think about the future too much and you’re apprenticeship will last a lifetime,” the golden tom advised, walking away into the apprentices’ den.

Thistlepaw watched him leave, choosing to sit outside in the dropping temperatures. He saw Bluefur and Snowfur take their perch just outside of the ThunderClan entrance and observed the clan slowly disperse into their respective dens. He turned his head towards the sky, seeing the sun fade away and the dark pelt of the stars fill his vision. StarClan...I hope you’re watching.

More than you will ever know. A voice echoed in his ear. Thistlepaw spun around and came face-to-face with a light-and-dark brown tabby around the same size as Pinestar. His dark green eyes captivated the apprentice. His glossy fur nearly distracted Thistlepaw from his canines that hung out of his jaw. The cat was faded and Thistlepaw could see the trees behind him.

“StarClan?” Thistlepaw asked aloud.

The cat gave a murr of laughter but did not respond. As he turned to leave he glanced back at Thistlepaw once more, “I am Rushtooth.”

#thistleclaw's hatred #thistleclaw's rewrite #thistleclaw #warriors #warrior cats #thunderclan #rushtooth #bluefur #snowfur #adderfang #lionheart #lionpaw #my writing #chapter two #chapter 2 #dark forest

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adilynia-kiden · 5 years

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For Them: Part Two

PART ONE

“TITANS FUCKING BALLS, PIXIE!”Raelin’s voice is the first thing I hear after almost 12 hours of being sequestered away. His wide eyes taking me in are enough to make my cheeks turn pink while I shove his shoulder gently and adjust the collar of his shirt.

“I will literally vomit all over you if you make one snide comment right now…” My threat is playful, but he knows there is a grain of truth in it, as my nerves have been his constant companion for over a century and a half. But he doesn’t shoot back with a witty and sarcastic comment, because he’s too busy trying to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes when they rise and settle on my hair.

“T-Those are…Vinnie’s braids…” Funny, I wondered if he would even notice, but his hand moves to the braid in his own hair that holds a lock of my sisters and I know his thoughts drift to the Shadowlands and the Rose that awaits his arrival. Brilaria is right there to wrap her arm around his waist in support, as my best friend rarely falters, but even he needs a moment to compose himself every once in awhile.

I’ve never seen Tanner without something to say, as I swear he hasn’t stopped talking since I met him. He’s surprisingly solemn right now, and I don’t think he knows what to make of me dressed like this, as he is more used to the sight of my armor than glittering gemstones and golden gowns.

The first thing he does after looking me over from head to toes with the eyes of a squire is render a flawless salute that makes me smile. The respectful gesture doesn’t last long, as in the next heartbeat he’s awkwardly trying to wrap his arms around me for a hug, but can’t seem to decide where to place his limbs as to not disturb any detail of my appearance.

“Light bless, Tanner…I’m not going to break!” Not, not today. Not ever. He knows. We don’t break.

I can tug my dress into place and Bri can fix my hair, but Tanner’s hugs are one of the best things about him, and I could use one right now. I think maybe he does too given how tightly he holds onto me for much longer than I expected.

The clearing of a throat is what draws us apart with matched shy and sheepish expressions as I reach up to ruffle his hair and tug his black and gold tunic to straighten the gig line.

My focus is drawn to the soft expression of my father who stands over Tanner’s left shoulder with a look of pride and adoration that accents the laugh lines around his eyes. He’s caught somewhere between the present and wistful memories as he steps forward to brush his fingers tenderly against my cheek. “Dame Adilynia Silverfall, you… look like your mother.”

“P-Papa… don’t you start...” The laugh in my throat gets caught a seeing his crystal blue eyes misting over, and hearing the weight of his emotions in the lofty comparison he makes. He understands the honor I have been given today, and I know his heart swells with pride for the little girl he used to bounce on his knee, but I need his strength right now. I have seen my father cry far too often, and I will be a mess if he starts now.

“Let’s get this party started!” Anything else that might have been said between Papa and I is interrupted by Raelin’s abrupt control on his emotions and the excited clapping of his large hands at the prospect of the celebration to come. He’s got the best timing to bring smiles to our faces in breaking up the stifling emotions that have left Papa and I quiet.

“Yes, lets…” Brilaria interjects, “…because if either of you are the cause for her ruined eyeliner, I will burn your casks of Wildhammer Stout the next time they are delivered.” Her threat earns a hysterical scowl from my father and best friend that curls her smile to devious intention. I have little doubt Bri make good on her threat… there’s a reason we call her the Hellcat.

“Shall we, Pixie?” Papa says, offering his arm for me to take and returning to the nickname I have held as a child in an attempt to comfort my frazzled nerves, for which I am exceptionally grateful.

My hesitation confuses him as I start to reach for the offered limb, only to draw back at the last second and take a step from his side.

“I...t-think… this is something I need to do alone, Papa…” I hope he understands why I need to do this. Why it matters that I step out of those doors on my own and not clinging to his arm like I did the night I was presented in the Thalassian court.

The duality of this event is not lost on me. On one hand, Teren and Lycan’s wedding is cause for nothing short of absolute and complete happiness that I will celebrate with every shred of my heart. On the other, I am not ignorant of the political gathering this event is likely to be. I am well aware my every move will be watched, judged, measured and no doubt found wanting by most of those in attendance today.I’ll be damned if they will see me break under this pressure when I know there is so much more to come in my pursuing a Nishanian citizenship. We don’t break.

“I can’t let them see my cracks… n-not today.” My voice sounds weak, but regardless of the lingering moment of sadness in my father’s eyes, I know he understands whyI have refused his arm. Today I need to be perfect and with MY merits and strengths applied to bear the honors I carry for Teren and Lycan, on my own…

My father’s encouraging smile and firm nod of understanding lift a weight from my shoulders as he silently reminds me to straighten my posture, as he done a hundred times before when we’ve entered a public event together. His his broad frame shifts noticeably to take his own advice while offering his arm to Brilaria with a wink shared between them.

“Looks like it’s you and me, kid!” Raelin says as Tanner falls in step at his side with a roll of his eyes at my best friend’s goofy grin.

Moving gracefully as one unit, my family and I make our way to the wedding event itself with the staccato click of Brilaria’s heels matched to the thunderous sound of my heart in my ears.

The pause as the doors open seems like it takes forever, but it’s really just my heart stopping at the sight of the LITERAL thousands of people gathered outside of Teren’s mansion and beyond the gates to celebrate in their happy day. Eonar grant me strength.

Truthfully, I’m not even the sure the Titans can help me now.

My heads full of fog and the edges of my vision are turning dark… My legs are filling with lead and refuse to move… I can’t even feel my hands, but I know they are shaking… I don’t even remember my own name…nononono… I c-can’t breathe…

“No cracks.” The two words, spoken in the combined voices of my family, arrive like ambrosia to my spiraling panic and provide the lifeline I need to find my strength. The echo of it bounces around inside my head to amplify and Titanforge my spine until the air in my burning lungs escapes in a surprisingly controlled exhale and return of my visual focus.

I can do this. I will do this.

I count six steps as my family moves away from me in a symbolic moment that leaves me with no formal escort for the evening. I have chosen to face the hundreds, if not thousands of pairs of eyes that now stare at me, alone.

Why?

Because...all of this; the jewels, gown, inks on my skin and braids in my hair have been done for one singular purpose; them.

I will face my fears and swallow my nerves to be perfect for them today. I will be brave like my mother and sister, and strong like my father and Raelin. I will be poised and ready for battle in a gilded gown like Brilaria, and humble and grateful like Tanner.

Because of my family, I will be what Teren and Lycan need and want today. I will carry these tributes and honors they have given me with all the grace and pride that they deserve.They want me here.

All of this...all of me... …is for them

(( @ironbound-praetorium @silverfall-patriarch for the SL mentions.))

#The Trinity Wedding #Teren x Lycan x Adilynia #For Them

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she-witch-inanna · 5 years

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Leadership || Drabble

Continuation of this right here.

Special shout out to @rexidot��and @ryujithisisbullshitsakamoto for encouraging my bad behavior

The silence was deafening. He had to make a decision he knew, but...

Ryuji wasn’t good at strategy beyond ‘headlong attacks and brute force’. Futaba could guide them but wasn’t good when it came to combat situations. Morgana was impulsive and rude, and he’d wind up getting ignored. That left Ren with Makoto or Akechi.

Makoto was the safe bet. Everyone respected her, and she knew what she was doing when it came to combat, but she seemed more focused on her own capabilities than everyone else's. It was up in the air whether or not she knew enough about the team to use everyone effectively. But Akechi...

Akechi was the outside bet. Most of the team didn’t like him, and they’d be upset if Ren told them to listen to him. But he was cunning and he learned quick. Plus he seemed to already understand a great deal about the team; their strengths and weaknesses. On more than one occasion he had given Ren sound advice on their potential next move. Plus...

If he got the team to trust him, got Akechi to feel accepted...maybe this wouldn’t all end in tears.

“Ren?” Grey eyes focused on Haru, who had tipped her head to one side. “Who are you leaving in charge?”

Breathe, Ren. One. Two. Answer the question. “Akechi.”

The reaction was immediate. Ryuji damn near fell out of his chair with a loud yell of his usual “FOR REAL?!”, Ann raised her eyebrows but didn’t look displeased, Yusuke simply nodded, his face almost as impassive as Ren’s own, Makoto was doing her best not to look disappointed, Futaba had an incredulous expression as she looked between Ren and Akechi, Haru smiled into her cup and nodded as Yusuke had done, and Akechi...

Akechi’s eyes had positively lit up. He seemed so thrilled to be trusted with this. “I won’t let you down, Joker.”

“Are you serious, Ren?!” Ryuji was incensed.

Ren could see the way Akechi’s shoulders stiffened slightly as he turned to address the blond. “Now now, our Dear Leader has spoken.” He was smiling that same Detective Prince Smile that hid his eyes and his emotions from the world. Suddenly Ren was worried that this was a bad call.

Ryuji wasn’t listening to him, focused as he was on Ren. “Why him?”

Well, here goes everything. “Because he’s smart, crafty, learns quickly, and has quite a few good ideas. I need you all to trust me on this. More importantly, I need you to trust him.”

Ryuji sat back in his chair with a huff as Akechi beamed down at Ren. “That is high praise indeed. I will endeavor to live up to your expectations.”

Ren shot him a small smile of his own. “Just be yourself out there and you’ll do fine. You’re good at what you do. Just make sure that you’re all listening to each other.” He shot a pointed look at Ryuji.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t all end in tears.

“Skull, hang on!” Akechi’s voice rang out as a pale gloved hand pulled at his mask in a flash of blue fire and blinding white light. He dashed over, pulling the gun that Ren had gifted to him only days earlier and firing three succinct shots to drop the final Shadow. He reached out a hand, pulling Ryuji to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” The blond rubbed the back of his head for a moment before stretching his arms out. “I owe ya one, Crow.” He grinned at him, that bright Sunshine grin as Ren had often called it.

Akechi wore a rather cocky smirk up until Ryuji smiled at him. It made him soften, offering a small smile in return. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

In his ear, Akechi heard Futaba’s high-pitched tones. “Those were some slick moves, Crow. Glad to know at least one of you can keep on your feet.” There was a playful sneer in her voice that made Ryuji scoff.

He saw Ryuji scowl, but he couldn’t help the lighthearted chuckle that rumbles in his chest for a moment. "Thank you, Oracle, but I'm glad to have Skull. He's the heart of the team, and I would hate for something to happen to him. So be more careful, perhaps?"

Ryuji looked back at him with something akin to shock before an easy smile returned to him. Was that simply his default expression? How did he manage to smile all the time as he did? Was it normal to be so inhumanly positive?

There was more to that line of thought, but he was drawn out of his reverie by a voice behind him. “So, Crow. What’s our next move?”

He turned to smile at Ann, who had stepped up to get the team back on track, before his hand went to his chin; a habit he always had when deep in thought. “Well, we don’t seem to be making much in the way of progress here. Perhaps we should search for a workaround. Oracle?”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” chirped Futaba in his ear again. “Just hang on one second.” Akechi spent the entire thirty seconds of silence checking the rest of the team and the hallways around them. They looked tired, but they couldn’t afford to leave yet. They had barely made any progress. Honestly, what was with the security today? Had they truly been so careless when Ren got injured?

Futaba pointed them to an alternate route and Akechi wasted no time in leading the way. “Let’s move. Quick and quiet. The less they notice us, the better.” They couldn’t risk raising the alarm today. They had almost reached their destination when Akechi noticed a familiar door. “A safe room...! Inside, everyone.”

He held the door open, waiting until everyone had gotten inside before ducking in after them. Looking around at the team as they all collapsed into chairs, onto sofas, or in Ryuji’s case the floor, Akechi frowned. “Let’s take a break and recover.” He himself took a seat on the edge of the table in the center of the room, pushing his mask up onto his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. Honestly, how did Ren manage to make this look so easy?

“Mona, did Joker ever manage to restock on that medicine he always has?” Something of a foolish question, Akechi figured. He cast a rather worried glance to Ryuji, who was still on the floor, and another one to Makoto, who had been barely keeping her feet during that last battle. “I think we have a few teammates who need it.”

Morgana nodded, reaching for his fanny pack and pulling out the bottle of pills and tossing it to him. There was a small part of Akechi that was wondering why he was going so far out of his way like this, why he was caring so much, but he pushed it aside. He had a job to do. He had to make this look good. He had to convince them that he cared.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He had a job to do. There was no time for emotions now. He was too close to his goal for that. Just stay focused, Goro. Keep up the lie.

The lie...

Even he wasn’t sure who he was lying to anymore.

#Persona 5 #Goro Akechi #Witch Rants #Rami Writes

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sheikah · 6 years

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Just for Fun: A Reading with the Game of Thrones Tarot Deck

Hey, everyone! Since I’ve been in my post-Con ofThrones high and really excited about the series again I decided to pick up the official GoT tarot deck to check out. I was particularly interested in the deck because the accompanying guidebook explains why each character’s artwork was chosen for each card, and as it is official HBO merchandise, we can consider these character interpretations “canon.” Before I discuss individual cards, though, I decided to try a reading for fun. I used one of the recommended formations in the book, focusing on a central question or idea for a prediction. Specifically, I focused on the ending of the series. I’m not very superstitious but I thought this could be interesting anyway!

I used the “Old Gods” spread for my reading, which required the drawing of five cards, each of which would have a specific meaning for the reading/prediction. I used only the major arcana to draw from, cards 0-XXI. I also chose not to shuffle in such a way that cards would be reversed (the guide said this is fine), so I have no reversal interpretations, just upright. Here’s what I got:

1. The Old Gods: What you need to know about a past situation.

For this one, I drew XI, Justice.

As you can see, this card features Ned serving as Hand of the King. Here are some excerpts from the guide:

Key Meanings: Justice, action, decisions, clarity, perception, balance

The card’s number, XI, when expressed as 11 has two numbers of equal value and so is a symbol of balance, equality, and choices.

A decision goes in your favor and you are judged fairly, provided you are deserving. You succeed, also, in tests, interviews, and negotiations. Past mistakes or arguments are laid to rest; in all matters, you act according to your conscience and for the higher good. The card also signifies improved finances, support, and good advice. The spiritual aspects of the card see you connected with divine guidance.

Additional Meanings: Signing contracts

I bolded parts of particular interest to me. I did this reading thinking of the ending of the series, and as a primarily Jonerys blog, a “good” ending for me would involve amity between Jon and Dany and peace for the realm as a result of their actions. Since the first card, which wound up being Justice in my particular reading, deals with important matters of the past, I take this to mean the “past” events unfolding in season 7--the successful alliance between Jon and Dany, culminating in a balance of power between them. Dany surrendered her own power to Jon’s cause willingly in 7.06 and vowed to fight for him before he even swore allegiance to her. At the same time, Jon readily swore fealty and declared her his queen. This equality of feeling, in which both parties were ready to submit to the other, to me fits the “balance,” successful “negotiations,” and solidifying of a “contract” between Jon and Dany. They stand on equal ground in their alliance and are on the same page. At the same time, they have finally “judged” one another “fairly,” and Jon has ruled that Dany is deserving of his fealty and the North’s loyalty. As past events, these would obviously be key factors in the unfolding of season 8 and the end of the story!

2. The weirwood: What strengthens you? What past experiences and knowledge will help you endure?

I drew I, The Magician, for the weirwood.

This card features Littlefinger, with various symbols of his power in the background.

According to the book, The Magician is an intriguing card.

Key Meanings: Success, willpower, messages, manifesting, inspiration, diplomacy

Action, ideas, and energy abound. It’s time for inventiveness, expansive thinking, and new directions, so the card often comes up to show new work, relationships, business start-ups, and other creative ventures. At the spiritual level, you connect with your higher self, or true purpose. If you’re waiting for news, the card tells you that you will soon have the information you need.

Additional Meanings: Significant journeys, moving home

If we connect these ideas to the meaning of the weirwood card drawn, this is encouraging as an outlook for the next parts of the story. The weirwood is about “what gives you strength.” From the start, the appearance of The Magician here is telling--”diplomacy” between Team Dragonstone and the North provides strength. “New directions” politically and “new relationships” like that between Jon and Dany are what drive success. We can see both characters finding their “true sel[ves],” as Dany is humbled by the loss of Viserion, turning her focus toward saving others instead of continuing her conquest. Jon, likewise, finds his place at Dany’s side rather than the uncomfortable burden of leading the North amidst great conflict. As for receiving “news” and “information,” I see this as a nod to the reveal of a Targaryen baby, solidifying Jon and Dany as family and giving them strength and motivation to win the war. Lastly, the additional meaning of “home” is something that would resonate deeply with both characters as both have been without a definite sense of place, home, or family up unto this point.

3. The Children of the Forest: What do you need to watch over? What needs attention or protection?

Here I drew XVIII, The Moon.

This card depicts the Moon Door from the Eyrie, and it’s a card with typically negative connotations. Again, I found this very interesting as the card shown for the Children of the Forest position.

Key Meanings: Illusion, the unconscious, mystery, deception, uncertainty, dreams, indecision

The card’s number, XVIII, reduces to nine, the number of tension and realization.

You may feel confused, disappointed, or disillusioned. Emotions run high, and you sense the need for a decision, which feels like a great risk, vulnerable as you are. Ask your intuition to guide you forward and discern what is a real option and what may be fantasy. When you do this, you may discover your true path and the work you were meant to do.

The Children of the Forest position on the spread shows “what needs attention,” and where to place one’s focus or “protection.” The guide’s description of The Moon card ties in perfectly to a possible prediction of Jon’s reaction to the reveal of his Targaryen parentage. I suspect he will feel “uncertainty” and “deception” after having lived his whole life under a false identity; this coming after the “mystery” of his parentage being solved for him at last. The guide even specifically uses the term “realization” as a cause of tension. This could leave Jon feeling “confused,” “disillusioned,” and vulnerable” as he is forced to make a “decision.” Will he accept his Targaryen heritage, “discover[ing] [his] true path,” what he was “meant to do?”

4. The heart tree: What you can do now; what you might commit to.

Here, I drew a potentially worrisome card: XX, Judgement.

Judgement depicts the Night King raising wights at Hardhome. But it is not necessarily a negative card.

Key Meanings: The past, second chances, memories, guilt, awakening, the soul

The card’s number, XX, reduces to two, the number associated with opposites and choices.

Judgement often appears in a reading when you are on the brink of change, and with it come memories, dreams of the past, and people reappearing in your life You may decide to give a situation or relationship a second chance, or otherwise review your behavior and see, at a higher level, the life lessons offered. The card also suggests spiritual awakening, mediumship, and connecting with angels and guides. This is a powerful opportunity to make sense of the past.

To me this card might be the most exciting yet, because I see it as a prediction of Jon’s reactions to being a Targaryen. He will be forced to reflect on “the past,” on “memories” of Ned’s protection of his identity, and an “awakening” of his true self as the Targaryen heir. This card is said to appear “on the brink of change”--possibly the new world order in the wake of the Long Night. I think it is reasonable also to expect Jon to brood in moroseness and uncertainty after the reveal of his Targaryen heritage, possibly causing a temporary rift between him and Dany. The Judgement card’s appearance under the heart tree--“what you can commit to”--to me signifies that Jon will “decide to give [the] situation or relationship a second chance,” “review[ing] [his] behavior” when he was doubtful and returning to Dany ready to commit. Like the advice he gave to Theon in 7.07, he is ready to “make sense of the past” and accept this “powerful opportunity” to come into his own as a Targaryen and possibly a husband, father, and king.

5. One with the sight: The answer. The truth.

For the final card, I drew IV, The Emperor.

The Emperor depicts Jon carrying Longclaw. As I said, the guide recommended thinking of a question while drawing cards. For me, the question was, “will the series end in a positive way?” Since the final card in this spread is “the answer,” I think that the answer to my question is “yes!” The Emperor is a positive card, especially regarding endings and a prediction of Jon’s and Dany’s futures.

Key Meanings: The patriarch, authority, protection, support, courage, order, structure

The card’s number, IV, means stability and structure. In numerology, four is linked to a square, as all sides are equal.

The Emperor denotes the father, husband, male partner, or other influential man. In respect to a situation, the card gives a “yes” to questions . . . and it shows that disputes are resolved. The card also signifies support, trust, and order after a period of chaos or uncertainty. As he is paired with III, the Empress, the Emperor can represent a committed relationship.

Additional Meanings: Making the right decision

This card is so perfect for the “one with sight” position, I can hardly believe that it’s what I randomly chose. It foretells, in my opinion, all positive things regarding the question I had in mind: will the series have an ending that I find favorable?

I would love to see Jon ending the series in a position of “authority” and “protection,” providing “order” and “structure” to his family and the realm. I also like that this card means “all sides are equal.” To me this shows equality between Jon and Dany: a situation in which neither takes precedence and the relationship is harmonious. Looking at the ending of the series as a whole, this also bodes well for the various kingdoms of the realm. In season 6 Dany told Yara that the Iron Islands could be an independent kingdom under Yara as queen. Dany told Tyrion in no uncertain terms that other kingdoms could be independent if they asked, so long as they were loyal and abided by her new codes of conduct that forbade raping and pillaging. Keeping this in mind, we can possibly predict a future with no all-powerful Iron Throne, but a network of independent countries sharing equal power and operating in an alliance, much like the United Kingdom or Europe. “Disputes are resolved” after a “period of chaos and uncertainty” during the Long Night. I also think it is significant that the Emperor card is specifically noted to be “paired” with card III, the Empress. This card depicts Dany in the GoT deck, confirming a pairing of these characters in a “committed relationship,” an ending that is the “right decision” for everyone.

Obviously all of this is just for fun. It’s tarot. I don’t put any real faith in it. But it was cool to see how the cards fit so well with each of the five positions in the spread, and I honestly wanted a positive spin after hearing so many doom and gloom theories for Jon and Dany at various panels at the Con. After all, George told us the ending is “bittersweet.” To many, the destruction of the Iron Throne and the lack of an established monarch ruling over all seven kingdoms could be “bitter.” But a reform of that system based on equality would be more in line with Jon’s and Dany’s character development and a “sweet” conclusion for those who do survive the War for the Dawn :) Anyway, I’ll probably make another post examining some of the individual cards and what their character analyses in the guidebook can tell us about them and a prediction for the final season :D

#jonerys #tarot #i don't know what to tag this lmao #i mean it is analysis and meta in a way but i don't want to get dragged for my superstitious ramblings so i'm tossing it at jonerys folks #and hoping for the best =)

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ojpovkjopsk · 3 years

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It is not good

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woodworkingpastor · 3 years

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For I know the plans I have for you? --Jeremiah 29:1-14; Psalm 137 -- Sunday, June 27, 2021

Context is everything

Jeremiah 29:11 is one of the more popular passages of the Bible because it offers such a magnificent promise to us:

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t have some great concern for the future—whether they’re looking for an answer to a specific problem in their lives or in the world, or they just wonder what the future holds for them, it’s not hard to see why people would be drawn to a passage where God offers an assurance for that future.

But Scripture texts like Jeremiah 29:11 also offer us an opportunity to reflect on how we interpret the Bible, which is why it makes it into the Say What? sermon series. There exists a temptation to take passages from the Bible that in their context have a specific application and treat them as if they are for general application.

The reality is the Bible offers us both kinds of wisdom. The Book of Proverbs is the classic text of wisdom for general application. Consider this example:

Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself (Proverbs 26:4).

My favorite paraphrase of this verse goes something like this: “Do not argue with a fool; they will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.” We laugh, but I suspect we could divide up into small groups this morning and quickly come up with situations where we either heard or saw someone doing something foolish, but we decided to keep our mouths shut because we didn’t want to encourage them with attention. There is wisdom in that approach.

But then Proverbs comes along in the very next verse and gives us this piece of wisdom:

Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes (Proverbs 26:5).

Two consecutive verses of the Bible offering contradictory advice, yet because Proverbs offers wisdom for general use, we understand the need to discern when to follow each one.

So what do we do with Jeremiah 29:11? The first thing we need to do is to understand it’s context. Jeremiah wrote to people living in excruciatingly difficult circumstances, and his purpose is to 29:11 is to show them that despite all appearances to the contrary, God was not finished with them. Their current experience in exile was not the end of the story; therefore, faithfulness still mattered.

“What is happening here?”

It’s important that we don’t let our eyes glaze over as we the first three verses of this passage, because the historical introduction to the passage sets the stage for us:

These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. This was after King Jeconiah, and the queen mother, the court officials, the leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the artisans, and the smiths had departed from Jerusalem. The letter was sent by the hand of Elasah son of Shaphan and Gemariah son of Hilkiah, whom King Zedekiah of Judah sent to Babylon to King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon.

These historical details give us a number of important clues to Jeremiah’s context:

Jeremiah is writing from Jerusalem to the “remaining” elders in “exile”. What became of the elders who were no longer “remaining?” What impact does that have on the people? And what does it mean to live as a refugee or political prisoner?

Notice all the people who have “departed from Jerusalem.” These were the civic leaders and leading tradespeople. Think about the hardship this would have inflicted on those who remained behind.

Jeremiah’s people are experiencing deep emotional trauma. They had witnessed the physical destruction of their homes—which also included killing their men, raping their women, abusing their children, knocking down and burning of homes and other structures. They had also experienced the spiritual undoing of their world; one of the great promises of the creation stories in Genesis 1 is how God moves to create order in the midst of chaos; the Babylonians brought chaos to their ordered lives, and in so doing seemed to show that the God of the Jewish people wasn’t so powerful after all.

I want you to think back to the beginning of the pandemic, when we really didn’t know how bad things might be. I remember days when I would go get lunch at McDonald’s and realize that I could probably blow through the two stop signs at McVitty and Gatewood, and cross over to the other side of 419 without any difficulty because there was such little traffic. That experience begins to give us an insight into the trauma they were experiencing. It’s a trauma that is reflected in both Psalm 137 and in the hymn By the waters of Babylon:

I’ve had people tell me that they think Psalm 137 shouldn’t be in the Bible because of the difficulty of verse 9. Hopefully, this hymn helps us get in touch with the emotional and spiritual difficulties of the people. But those who would remove Psalm 137 from the Bible reveal another way we confuse a general application of Biblical texts with a specific application of Biblical texts. By preserving a prayer that includes the rawest expressions of emotion in the Bible, God is telling us that we don’t have to hide our feelings when our world starts to come crumbling down among us. We don’t have to put on our “nice face” when we pray. We can be honest.

I used Psalm 137 when I preached at the memorial service for Adam Ward and Allison Parker several years ago, and people told me afterward that they finally understood why this Psalm is in the Bible, because it described how they felt that day.

Becoming emotionally unstuck.

The specific problem that Jeremiah 29 addresses is that the people were emotionally stuck. They were in a place they didn’t want to be, by all appearances their faith had been a failure, and their religious leaders offered conflicting advice about how they should engage with their circumstances. Some of the leading voices of their day were offering them quick fixes to their problem. “Hang on, this won’t last long, God will bring us home soon.”

American theologian Scot McKnight offers some related reflection on ways our own times feel like exile:

There was a time when evangelicalism was carried along by a deserved, general social and even some political respect: Americans were ‘Christian’ and respected the various Christian denominations. Priests got hat tips, pastors were asked to pray at high school gatherings, and churches had social honor. Evangelicals Christians were part of that social world. Not today.

Such words are difficult to hear, but so were those uttered by Jeremiah in his context. But Jeremiah has the courage to stand up to those false prophets and tell people the truth: “you’re going to be here a very long time.” But in telling them the truth, Jeremiah offers them three tasks:

Task #1: Build homes. This is not an extended camping trip that they are on, the people must settle in for the long haul. Think about what it would mean for these people to invest in homebuilding: accumulate a certain amount of resources and materials; build a structure of permanence; decorate it and fill it in a way that reflects who you are—your personality, and your values.

Task #2: Plant gardens. I can do that! Lettuce and radishes and peas are easy to plant; they grow quickly and will be helpful. But what does it say about someone who plants asparagus? Or who plants an apple orchard? This is a different kind of investment, one that takes years to realize in all it’s fullness.

Task #3: Take wives. No casual weekend hook-ups here! This isn’t spring break beach week. Commit to relationships of permanence, that will enable you to grow as a person in the complicated and delightful give and take of being married to a person “in sickness and in health until death do us part.”

These three tasks represent God’s investment in these people; providing them three areas where they can begin to exert some control over their lives and begin moving toward emotional healing. Babylon took a tremendous amount away from them, robbing them of so much that brought significance and value to their lives. But it had not taken everything. There was still room for them to respond.

But even more than this, these three tasks become spiritual disciplines that forge a strength of character that has resilience to overcome failure and help the people imagine that God actually has a future for them. The regular activity of building homes, planting gardens, and pursuing relationships of significance would be the means through which their faith in God would be reawakened and bring them to a point where they could believe that God had plans for their life, even in a foreign land. Every foundation stone laid, every seed planted in the ground, every wedding celebrated was an investment in their future that would be a means of searching for God and finding out that he has been with them all along. Their exile would be long-lasting but it would not be eternal; as another Biblical writer would say some years later:

I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ (Philippians 1:6).

This is ultimately the reality that gives Jeremiah 29:11 such great power; it’s not simply a generic affirmation of God’s blessing; it is the realization that in the midst of the daily struggles and challenges of life God is with us.

Searching for a new normal

As we “turn up the dimmer switch” on congregational life, we have some hard work ahead of us. The hard words I have for you this morning is “don’t get too comfortable yet.” Following Jesus in our hyper-partisan, post-Covid world is becoming more and more of an intentional choice, and it is a choice fewer and fewer persons are making. Our own particular Brethren faith practices of peacemaking, footwashing, and community-based Biblical reflection seem optional to some and wrong to others. One significant challenge facing us is to discern what tasks God has for us in our time of challenge. What is our version of “building homes, planting gardens, and taking wives” will we need to pursue in our day?

I wish I had the answer. There are but two tasks on the list for now. First, we can pray. Second, we can look around and see who is not here. There may be many reasons why that is so. But can you be the one to reach out to those?

We will increase the light on the dimmer switch together.

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artisticvicu · 4 years

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Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020 - Day 18: Trap

The three higher ups walked away leaving the door wide open.

“Ysle,” Tolnoran softly commanded. The Kret moved to the door and pushed it closed before laying down against the bottom.

Artemis looked to him. “I take it they’re not the best of company to be around?”

Tolnoran snorted. “Oh, Colonel Conner and Cass are great people to be around - some of the better, in fact - but it’s the other higher ups that aren’t all that great to be around. Leader Fox runs a tight ship but there something about him that’s always put me on edge. Madam Drev I don’t know well enough to have an opinion of but the way her Jaun behaves has many of us thinking there’s more broken about her than what we’re seeing.”

Artemis looked to Dlmor. “How did you know their names?”

He caught Tolnoran looking over sharply out of the corner of his eye as Dlmor finally let him go. “Vulren came by the first night you were here, curious no doubt, and happened to be a bit more chatty than was probably wise. Jaun are not known to be cocky but this one sure is.”

“Vulren is also very vicious.” Tolnoran put in, expression and tone serious. “Do not cross that Jaun. You will get torn to shreds faster than you could blink.”

Dlmor snorted at that. “I’d like to see an attempt at that.”

“Dlmor,” Tolnoran started but Dlmor waved him off.

“I will not encourage nor seek after that behavior. I am not that stupid nor that confident in my skills against a Jaun. However, a Jaun can still be taken down. A cocky one just makes that task easier.”

Artemis asked, “Is there a ranking then on which creatures are stronger or better fighters than others?”

Tolnoran let out a sigh. “Not necessarily.”

“No type is inherently stronger or a better fighter than the other,” Dlmor explained. “That is simply from my experience. But, then, I have only ever fought with Jaun that have had a human support so I’m not sure if that has had any impact on my experiences.”

“Do humans boost creature strengths?”

Tolnoran wobbled his hand in the air. “Kind of? Humans act more like points of reference and advice more than a source of power but I’ve seen some creatures bolstered by a human so there isn’t really a straight answer to that question. It also depends on the type and strength of the bond.”

“What of the creature to a human?”

Confusion flickered across both their faces as Tolnoran asked, “What do you mean?”

Artemis was fairly certain the answer was no if Tolnoran was asking for clarification but he elaborated anyways. “You’ve both have said that a creature can get aid of some kind from a human - be is simply a different perspective or some form of strength - but what about the human? Does the human gain the same thing?”

Tolnoran glanced at Dlmor before stating, “The human usually isn’t the one fighting. If they are, they’re fighting the other human or acting as support.”

“Do you remember how Lora crafted the bow and was firing arrows?” Dlmor spoke up, drawing his attention towards the foggy memories. “Most humans gain the ability to craft something out of their partnership but that’s the extent of anything the human gains.”

“Thus the need for an armory, then?”

Tolnoran nodded, passing him the bundle of fabric. “Less strain on the bond if we don’t have to craft.” He took the bundle and started to change into the outfit. “That and most that do go out onto the fields either had a partnership that isn’t a full bond or are Ylmra.”

He pulled the large shirt over his head. The entire thing was very squared. There was no curve in the arms, shoulder, or body of the shirt and he felt like was wearing a sheet quickly stitched into something vaguely shirt shaped. “Ylmra can’t craft?”

“They can,” Tolnoran offered, though the words were drawn out. “But most never figure out how. It’s easier when there’s a creature outside of you rather than try and figure it out from within.”

“No one can teach them?”

“It’s not something you can learn from someone else,” Dlmor pointed out. “There’s no simple way to describe it. It is truly an act that you either stumble upon, or you don’t.”

He thought of the object he had thrown, the things he had crafted from what Dlmor had left behind. Dlmor shot him a look and he knew even without the push from the creature that he was to keep that to himself. “What of Ylmra having a partner? Is that possible with what they are?”

Tolnoran frowned at him. “How much do you know of the Ylmra.”

“Very little.” He met the older man’s gaze. “And only what Elias told me. He said that Ylmra are rare; that they are two beings that have become one, in a sense.”

Tolnoran’s frowned eased a bit but it didn’t go away. “Well, that’s not inaccurate at least. But it is missing a lot of it.” Tolnoran placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, starting for the door. “Ylmra are able to create bonds but they are difficult to maintain so many don’t. Thus why the armory. But enough about this for now. We’ve got to stop by the main healer’s office and get you checked over before I walk you across the compound.”

Ysle got up and moved away from the door. Dlmor adjusted its shape to be the same shoulder height as a big dog, pressing in against his thigh so that his fingers could bury themselves easily into the long fur at the creature’s neck and shoulders.

The hallway wasn’t overly busy but it was full of noise. He followed Tolnoran’s direction down the left hallway past numerous rooms and many people all dressed in something that counted as scrubs. His eyes wandered as he took in the people and the creatures there. A large majority were the same creature - some long, fur covered creature with two sets of paws with thumbs and prehensile tails - that Dlmor informed him were Cyor. He spotted a few smaller Kret and a number of Belvren. He noted that not everyone had a creature companion. In fact, now that he was paying attention to the numbers, closer to only a quarter - a third at most - had some creature with them and there were a lot of people there. Two Jaun slipped through trailing a few personnel.

Dlmor was the only of its kind that he could see.

Dlmor passed him a bit of what Dlmor are capable of and he found he wasn’t surprised that invisibility was a trait that Dlmor were capable of. There was a curious note unintentionally attached to the small fact and he was surprised when Dlmor elaborated; there was a chance that he would be able to see even those Dlmor that were invisible, though not see them outright so much as see a distortion in the air where they were. If he was, it would take practice if he couldn’t see them now.

He was also shoved an equal parts amused and annoyed note to be patient. There weren’t any others around to practice with.

Tolnoran stopped at the large desk in the middle of a large room. He could see numerous hallways converging at the one point as Tolnoran leaned on the counter. “I apologize. I have orders from Captain Vex to get this patient cleared and up to the armory as soon as possible. Is there anyone available to check him over real quick and clear him?”

The nurse on the other side of the counter muttered something he couldn’t here and the apologetic look on Tolnoran’s face fell a bit.

It didn’t last long. Before the nurse on the other side of the counter could even utter a proper word to the man, other voices cried out his name. “Torra!”

Tolnoran’s head snapped up, eyes on the source before a massive grin eradicated the previous look. “Hey everyone!”

Ysle curled around Artemis and Dlmor as Tolnoran tucked him against the counter as he stepped towards the arriving group. The chatter was fast and rough but Artemis caught bits and pieces enough to know that the man was fielding an onslaught of questions in order to get one of them to bring him someone that could clear Artemis. It took a hot minute before a - well, they looked like a doctor to him but they were probably one of the healers - as a healer strode over and dismissed the group. Artemis had lost interest in the crowd at the top of that hot minute when chatter in the opposite direction drew his attention. The healer and Tolnoran talked for a moment but that was all Artemis was aware of as he watched a cluster of people rushed down a hallway he couldn’t see. Half a second later the cluster of people were scattering back into the hallway they had just vacated, the sound of shouts and cries drawing more than just his attention.

He didn’t realize he had moved until his stomach collided with Ysle’s side. He bent over the creature’s back arm instinctively wrapping around the neck but his attention didn’t waver. The calls for security could now be clearly understood and the frantic call for medical supplies a roll of background noise. There was the crash of metal underneath a scream that sent a chill down his spine.

He didn’t remember getting around Ysle.

The hallway was a wreck. There were people and objects scattered throughout the side hallway. He stared as a person wreaked havoc to the surrounding area. Two personnel were trying to get close, trying to sedate the person if he was understanding any of it. Not that he was able to really hear anything. He was fairly certain Dlmor was giving him the information from the hallway because there was an odd ringing in his ears. He watched as the person threw one of the personnel down the hallway with a scream of rage.

Adrenaline shot through Artemis’s body.

There was something on the person’s back- at the person’s back. It was large but lanky, and not fully there. It was mostly black or a dark gray with white eyes and teeth. The thing wasn’t solid, looking more like it was made of gas rather than something solid. The thing laughed and grinned as the person it was draped over and clinging to threw a chair at the other personnel.

Those white eyes drifted towards Artemis and their gazes met.

The grin on the thing’s face stretched far wider than what seemed naturally possible. Pain shot through Artemis’s head but he didn’t care. He knew the thing was trying to hurt him now but he didn’t care. He took off running with fury and adrenaline driving him towards the thing.

The thing reached out for him but Dlmor was there clamping down its own white teeth on the thing’s see-through wrist. The thing screamed as he vaulted over the person and collided with the thing’s chest. The thing wasn’t completely solid but it was solid enough for him to collide with and shove off of the person it clung to.

The three of them hit the ground hard but Artemis didn’t give it a chance to recover. He shifted his weight back and to the side, hand going out for balance and as a guide as Dlmor reshaped. The back of a hand that was mostly claws followed his palm, down his arm, and stabbed into the floor pinning the thing in place as it tried to shake Dlmor off its wrist to no avail. Dlmor’s hand clenched around the thing and it let out another scream. Artemis intercepted the other hand, catching the wrist under his arm. He pulled back on the hand and pinned it to his chest, leaning back so that it put serious strain on the weak appearing joint.

Another scream.

Voices suddenly bombarded him from all sides and for a moment he didn’t understand till he looked away from the thing he was helping pin. His gaze swept around the sea of new strangers and his gaze landed on Tolnoran. The man was holding the person Artemis had just freed and the only thing he made out over the new cacophony of voices was, “…a trap.”

#All the Creation #Creative and Prompt Writing #Inktober 2020 #Day 18 #Altruistic Endeavors

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