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#there are so many wonderful things on this earth and you have to condition yourself to notice them and its hard work that never stops

les4elliewilliams · 1 month

Text

With all my heart.

¡! daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks. ¡!

cw/wc: 10.9k (ik wtf) not proofread ; smut, fingering both r/e!receiving, oral (r!receiving), swearing, fluff, reader has a heart condition. jackson ellie x fem reader (💘)

a/n: I'm not really sure how I feel about this, lol (especially the smut part). I tried to do a lot of research about this type of heart issue to make it as accurate as possible, so if it's not, I'm sorry, I tried. ib one of those romantic movies where one of the characters is sick and has some rare condition (except that no one dies.)

also can we start romanticizing unconditional love and healthy relationships?

You knew you had won the lottery the moment you accidentally bumped into her in the hospital.

Your life has been full of challenges right from the beginning. You were born with a condition that affected your heartbeats, making it difficult for your heart to function normally. So you had to rely on a pacemaker to regulate your heartbeat. This condition has significantly impacted your life, making it hard for you to engage in activities that require physical exertion.

Long QT Syndrome, or LQTS, is a rare genetic condition that can mess up your heart's electrical system. It can cause your heartbeats to go wild, making you faint, have seizures, or even go into sudden cardiac arrest. To keep yourself safe, you needed to take your meds, live a certain way, and have a pacemaker — which you had implanted.

Living a normal life had always been tough for you, and it wasn't only the syndrome's physical symptoms that held you back, but also your parents' protectiveness. They worried a lot about your health, maybe a bit too much, leaving you with very little freedom to do anything. Even simple things like going to a party or hanging out with friends like a regular teenager seemed like a luxury you could never have. Although you understood that your parents were only trying to protect you, their overprotectiveness always made you feel suffocated and cut off from the world. You always felt like an alien who had just been dropped off on Earth; you knew nothing about anything. You've always had to rely on the stories and experiences of people around you, like your friends, to help you figure things out and feel like you had lived a little.

You have been homeschooled ever since you were a little kid. You didn't have many opportunities to participate in social activities and make friends. However, you did manage to meet two people who have remained your only friends to this day. You met them in the park when you were a kid, and to your luck, they stuck around. You often wonder if they stayed with you out of pity or because they genuinely liked spending time with you, but you were glad regardless; it was good to have someone to hang out with.

The memory of the day you met Ellie is still as vivid in your mind as it was when it happened. You had just finished your routine checkup at the hospital and were feeling a bit peckish. You made your way to the vending machine to grab a snack, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness sweep over you. You hoped a quick snack would help, but fate seemed to have other plans in store for you that day. As you selected your snack, you watched in frustration as it got stuck in the vending machine. You tried everything you could to retrieve it, but it refused to budge. Just as you were about to give up, she appeared.

"Can I hel-" she started, but you were already turning around to leave, and just as you turned around to leave, you accidentally collided with her, causing your chest to hit hers. The impact triggered your pacemaker, causing it to beep loudly and incessantly. "Shit — I'm so sorry" she said as she gently grabbed your arm to steady you. "Oh my god, I'm sorry" you said simultaneously. The sound reverberated through the hospital walls, and your face heated up with embarrassment. You had never experienced anything like this before, not even when you bumped into walls at home.

The auburnette looked at you puzzled and asked, "Why're you beeping? Are you okay?" Worried green eyes scanning you, she was clearly taken aback by the unexpected beeping sound and she couldn't understand where it was coming from. You couldn't help but feel drawn to her despite the awkward introduction, she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

Little did you know that this chance encounter would lead to a series of life-changing events.

You remember sitting in the seating area of the hospital, munching on a snack that she had generously gotten for you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this girl's kindness. She was so funny and kind, cracking dumb puns every now and then. You admired how perfect and flawless she looked and to this day, she still tells you how mesmerized she was by you when she saw you for the first time. You both chatted away about everything and nothing, you noticed that she had a backpack with her. Being the curious person you are, you couldn't resist the urge to ask her what she was studying. She seemed delighted by your interest and started talking passionately about her field of study — art. The more she talked, the more intrigued you were. When your conversation came to an end, she mustered up the courage to ask for your number, a clear indication that she wanted to see you again; it took you by surprise but you happily obliged. Something about you captivated her attention, although you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

You never thought that you would have the chance to become friends with her, let alone her best friend. But somehow, again, fate had other plans for you. Your friendship with her started slowly but surely. She always asked you to hang out, and you couldn't help but say yes. She was so fun to be around, and it was impossible not to enjoy her company. She would come to your place and take you on small adventures, always promising to show you something new and exciting. This was especially important to you, as you had shared that your teenage years were quite dull and you didn't venture out of your house much. She always respected your limits, knowing that you had to be cautious with your heart condition. When she started staying at your place, you were surprised at how well she fit in with your family and friends. Your parents loved her and your friends thought she was great too. She was always taking care of you without being overbearing or suffocating. Her kindness and thoughtfulness made you feel valued and appreciated, and you couldn't help but fall for her. How could you not after all? She was perfect.

You shared every aspect of your life with her, and she reciprocated. You both had a shared love for reading, although she preferred a completely different genre from yours. She forced you to read her favorite Savage Starlight comics, and even though they weren't your cup of tea, you still enjoyed spending time with her while reading them, mostly because of how cute she sounded when she read every line out loud, effortlessly switching tones to match the different characters' voices and even adding sound effects to accentuate the narrative. She would often stay the night at your place and binge-read them with you. She loved to talk about her passions for space, dinosaurs, science, and art. She even showed you her drawings and journal, claiming she had never shown them to anyone. She even made a few drawings for you; it was adorable and impressive how she managed to capture every little detail of your face and put it on a piece of paper, she was a talented one. And, of course, you did the same with her — sharing your favorite comics/books with her, even convincing her to watch movies that she always claimed she hated. After watching them with you, she realized they weren't so bad after all. Not that she actually paid attention to the movie, her eyes solely focused on you.

Soon enough she was introducing you to her closest friends. She was convinced that you would love them, and she was totally right. One of her friends, Dina, was so much fun to be around, always full of energy and cracking jokes, she had a smile that could light up the whole room. Jesse, Dina's boyfriend, was just as funny as her, but he was a bit more serious and responsible than the rest of them. He always looked out for Dina and Ellie, but they never listened to him, which resulted in some pretty hilarious situations. The group had a really cool dynamic, and you loved how they made you feel welcome right from the start.

Your first kiss was a moment you could never forget, etched deeply into your memory. You both were deeply in love with each other, and it was evident in the way you looked at each other. Your glances filled with unspoken feelings and palpable tension that drove you crazy, hoping that you weren't the only one feeling that way. And then the moment finally arrived. You remember it was a hot summer day, and the air in your room was stifling despite the fan pointed at your face. You had a few strands of hair that fell loose out of your messy low ponytail, and they moved with the breeze from the fan. You were both on your bed; she was sitting criss-crossed before you, music playing in the background. She was drawing you in her journal, claiming that she needed more practice, which, after years, she revealed was just an excuse to draw you and spend more time with you; you were her favorite muse and she was just a loser who couldn't help but simp for you. Her cheeks were slightly pink due to the heat (or at least you thought), and her green concentrated eyes flickered back and forth from your face to her journal. When she started drawing your lips you unconsciously licked them, causing her eyes to dart up to look at you in the eyes.

She let out a soft sigh and mumbled under her breath, "m' almost done." A faint blush crept up her cheeks, though you couldn't quite explain why. Intrigued, you leaned over to get a glimpse of her work and asked, "Yeah? can I see?" She straightened up, holding the journal close to her chest, and replied with a slight huff, "Don't move, c'mon, stay still." You raised an eyebrow in amusement and retorted, "What? I'm not even moving." She didn't respond and instead furrowed her brows, focusing intently on her piece of art. The room fell silent, except for the sound of her pencil scratching against the paper.

The silence between you and her was palpable but not uncomfortable, yet you still decided to break it with a joke. "Knock knock," you said, a small smile forming on your face. Her eyes, which had been focused on her journal, darted up to meet yours once again. A playful smile appeared on her lips as she asked, "Who's there?" in a slightly sarcastic tone, giving you an eye roll. "Kiss," you replied, wiggling your brows. "Kiss who?" she played along, her eyes still fixed on you. "Me," you smiled awkwardly.

You knew it was a terrible joke, a very corny one, but you couldn't help it. After all, you didn't have much experience in these kinds of things — the universe only knew how long it took you to muster up the courage to make a silly little joke like that one. She chuckled dryly. "God, that's really bad," she commented, and you laughed along. "I know," you lowered your head and shook it slowly before looking up at her again. Both of you were smiling at each other, the tension between you growing. "So?" you quipped, trying to sound confident. "Do you want to?" you asked, your heart beating fast. "Oh shit, you were serious?" She suddenly sounded nervous, placing her somehow worn-out journal on her thighs as she looked at you in disbelief. You could tell she was surprised, and maybe a little flustered. "I'm sosorry — I didn't mean to make it awkward. Forget it. It's just I really like you a lot, but if you don't—" you started to say, trying to diffuse the tension, but her soft lips cut off your nervous rambling before you could finish your sentence. You felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body as you kissed her back, your hands reaching up to cup her face. It was a moment you would never forget.

After your first kiss, you and Ellie went on a few dates together. It was during one of these dates that she took you to the park and asked you to be her girlfriend. The setting was perfect — you were having a lovely picnic date, the weather was just right, and a gentle breeze was blowing, caressing your skin and making it erupt in goosebumps as you sat close to the pond next to Ellie, throwing frozen peas to the ducks, their quacking filling the air with lively energy. The water was still and calm, the sun was shining, and the greenery around you was lush and vibrant. You felt a sense of warmth and happiness.

The auburnette sat beside you, leaning back as you fed the ducks in the pond. She wore a tender smile on her face, watching you with a gentle gaze. "I thought they only ever ate bread," she commented, breaking the peaceful silence between the two of you. You turned to her, your eyebrows raised in surprise. "If all they eat is bread, how will they survive in the wild without people tossing them bread all the time?" You replied with a hint of sarcasm. She scoffed and playfully nudged you. "Alright, smartass," she said, you nudged her back, both of you giggling like children. "I'm surprised a know-it-all nerd like you didn't know that," you teased her. "Nerd, huh? you actually like this nerd" she retorted teasingly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pointed at herself. "Do I, now?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. You couldn't take back your words after all, you did like her and you made sure to tell her, let's say... pretty often.

"Oh yeah, you do," she chuckled, nodding her head playfully. The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, watching the ducks swim around in the pond. Suddenly, she turned to you, her expression serious. "Listen, I was thinking...you know how we're going out on dates and all," she started, her voice hesitant. Your head snapped to look at her; your heart was beating like crazy, not that it usually wasn't due to your syndrome, but it felt crazier than usual. You felt your palms start to sweat, and you grew more nervous by the second. "Yeah?" you prompted her, waiting for her to continue. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...we already act like a couple, so...will you be my girlfriend?" she finally gathered the courage to ask, her eyes locked on yours.

She seemed a bit tense, although you couldn't understand why. After all, you had told her multiple times before how much you liked her, and the two of you had been acting like a couple for quite some time now. You gave her a cheeky smile "Of course I want to," you said confidently, jumping right into her lap, feeling a sudden burst of excitement as you wrapped your arms around her.

Your love was pure and genuine, and it was evident from the little things you did for each other. She would leave little notes around your room or in your bag whenever you left for a second. These notes would remind you of her love for you, and you would return the gesture by hiding notes in her notebooks or in her journal. She would find them the next day during her classes, and it would brighten up her day.

"you look so pretty"

"are you a keyboard? cause you're just my type ;)"

"i love your freckles and i love you"

"hope you're having a good day :) ps. no more pickup lines im begging D:"

Your love was spontaneous and full of small handmade gifts, full of drawings from her part and origami from yours. Once in a while she'd even write and play songs for you, which had you smiling like an idiot cause how romantic was that?

She was always too caring, and she would make sure that you were feeling okay despite your heart disorder. She would accompany you to your doctor appointments and never leave your side, even though you would tell her she didn't need to be there. Unlike your parents who had always been overprotective, she was always looking out for you without being too much. Since you were the "sick" one between the two of you, she always had trouble accepting help from you, especially when she felt sick or was on her period. But you always insisted on taking care of her, making her chicken soup whenever she had a horrible cold, and ensuring that she took painkillers for her period cramps. You always made sure that she had enough pads and her favorite snacks or helped her through one of her panic attacks. Soon, she got used to it and would always be a whining mess when she was sick, hoping you would cuddle with her or baby her. She loved it more than she liked to admit.

On your anniversaries, you would surprise each other with flowers. The first time you had ever gotten her flowers (which was on your first date), she accepted them with teary eyes, saying that none of her ex-girlfriends had ever gotten her flowers or treated her like a woman; you loved the idea of being her first in something — you didn't get to be her first kiss or her first time in...that, but at least you were the first girlfriend who treated her right.

Your first time together was so special and intimate, it made you feel truly alive. The way she was so gentle and caring towards you left an indelible imprint on your heart. Her touch was like a soft breeze on a calm summer day, sending shivers down your spine, and being with her made you feel like you were safe from the rest of the world. You remember how her tender gaze made you feel like the most special and beautiful girl in the world, making your insecurities fade away. The way she held you close, with a warmth that engulfed you, made you feel comfortable in your own skin. It was your first time ever, and you confided in her about not having much experience. She reassured you that she would teach you, show you the way, and make you feel good, and good Lord, if she kept that promise.

It was a warm and peaceful afternoon, the sun was shining brightly outside, casting a warm glow into the room. You and your girlfriend were both lounging on her comfortable bed, enjoying each other's company in silence. While she was intently watching an action movie, you were lost in the pages of a captivating book. Your attentive eyes scanned each line and paragraph, immersing yourself in the story and oblivious to your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, Ellie was growing increasingly impatient, huffing and puffing in an attempt to get your attention. Her huffs were airy at first, but as time went on, they became more forceful and pronounced, hoping to grab your attention and draw you away from your book.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, you turned your head gently towards her, lowering your book ever so slightly "What's wrong, Els?" you asked, concerned. "Put it down, I wanna cuddle." she responded, snatching the book out of your hand and placing it on her nightstand. You couldn't help but smile at her neediness, finding it adorable. "Fine," you sighed playfully, "Needy," you added under your breath, rolling your eyes at her. But she caught your comment, "What? Did you say somethin'?" You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction as she pulled you on top of her and wrapped her arms around you. "Oh, nothing," you innocently replied.

"Comfy? Anything hurts?" she asked in a gentle tone as she rubbed your back in a slow and soothing motion, and you instantly relaxed under her touch. You took a deep breath, the tension in your muscles slowly fading away. "I'm okay, — m'comfy" you reassured her, feeling grateful for her care and existence in general. You hugged her tightly, burying your head in her chest. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, and the steady beats of her heart were a comforting sound.

You both cuddled up in silence, movie still playing softly in the background. As she kept rubbing your back, you gently scratched her arm something that usually relaxed her. After a little while, you felt compelled to express your feelings and whispered, "I love you." Even though you couldn't see her face, you could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, "Love you more, babe." You remained comfortably nestled in her chest, head buried in her grey hoodie. When you finally lifted your head from her chest, you gazed into her beautiful green eyes, already looking at you with so much affection that made your heart skip a beat. "You mean the world to me." you confessed, her eyes softened even more, and her heart swelled with love for you. She was the perfect girlfriend, always so loving and respectful, and you couldn't ask for anyone better. Finally, she leaned in and kissed you slowly and tenderly, a soft kiss that soon turned into something passionate and full of desire. She rolled on top, pinning you down with her weight, her hands roaming all over your body. She squeezed your waist, your hands cupping her freckled face to keep her close. She sighed quietly into the kiss, her fingers tugging at your tank top, and you knew what that meant — she wanted it off. And to confirm your thoughts, it was Ellie herself. She pulled away, lips slightly swollen and pink. Despite her best efforts, it was pretty evident that she was struggling to control her breathing as she panted uncontrollably, both because of the intense making out and her arousal growing by the second. Her face was flushed; she looked at you to gauge your reaction to her silent request, to which you responded with a little nod. "I'm ready," you uttered timidly, feeling your cheeks getting warmer. "Are you sure? We don't nee-" you cut her words off, repeating yourself, "I'm ready," this time sounding a bit more firm and confident of your choice. She mimicked the slight nod you gave her a few seconds ago, loose strands of auburn hair falling out of her little bun framing her face, her eyes never leaving yours.

She leaned in once again, giving you a peck on your moist lips before kissing your jawline and down to your neck. "Can i touch you?" she asked between damp kisses she left on your neck, "I don't know, can you?" she chuckled and began to suck purple marks on your soft skin as she slipped her hand underneath your tank top, brushing against your bare stomach before reaching her target — your tits. She cupped one of your tits, feeling the fabric of your bra. Your breath hitched, your cheeks were flushed and you were grateful she was too focused on your neck to notice "Can I take it off?" she questioned between cute smooches sounds, "Yeah," you breathed out, looking back into her eyes.

When she did, you were left in nothing but your bra, the visible scar near your shoulder making you feel uncomfortable, same with the implanted pacemaker under your skin, it was visible and you hoped it didn't gross her out. You couldn't help but look away from her, suddenly feeling ashamed for something you had no control over; it was something so small yet so significant for you.

You felt her index and middle finger gently pressing under your jawline to turn your head towards her and make you look into her eyes once again. Her voice was soft, almost like a whisper, as she spoke to you in such a tender tone. "Hey," she started softly, sensing your insecurity. "You're beautiful, alright?" Hearing those words from her sent chills all over your body, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. She continued, "We'll go slow. If something feels wrong, you let me know, okay?" Her words were reassuring, and you could feel her gentle touch on your face, holding it firmly so that you couldn't look away. You nodded in response to her words, suddenly feeling shy in front of your girlfriend.

After less than a few minutes, both of your clothes were off, thrown carelessly somewhere in the room. She still had her sport bra on and her underwear while you only had your underwear on. She trailed down, kissing all over your bare chest and breasts, and your scar, the one you were insecure about "smooch smooch..so pretty, smooch beautiful, my pretty girl" she kept murmuring under her breath causing goosebumps to rise all over your body, your nipples stood erect and hard, begging for some attention. She chuckled when she felt your sensible nub harden under her palm, "Didn't mean to make the ladies feel neglected" she joked, her voice was husky. She looked up at you with a cocky grin, and you felt your cheeks heat up even more; you chuckled awkwardly and rolled your eyes at her attempt to tease you about something you couldn't control. "Why are you always like this?" you rhetorically asked with a playful smirk, she shrugged and gave you a lopsided smile as she began to kiss your chest and attack your nipples with her mouth. "mmphh" you let out; a pathetic attempt to swallow a small moan when she sucked on one of your nipples and pinched the other. You bit down on your lip, and you could feel her smile at the small sound that came from you as she continued to work on your tits.

She trailed her hand down your abdomen, her fingers dancing around the waistband of your underwear teasingly. You couldn't deny the arousal building in your panties and at the pit of your stomach, you could feel the uncomfortable stickiness forming in your undies. So fucking wet. Leaving moist kisses all the way down to your belly button, then she stopped. She looked up at you, cheeks flushed just like yours and her eyes looking for a sign of your consent. She wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable with the way she was exploring your body, feeling it, and touching it. "I'm ready, Ellie. I promise" you repeated, your voice was soft and still timid.

"If you want me to stop, just tell me to, okay?" she told you once again and she didn't resume what she was doing until you gave her a light nod. She spread your legs, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the darker spot of your panties, you were so fucking wet. She hissed something under her breath that you couldn't quite catch. Seeing how wet she made you only served to boost her ego (as if she wasn't cocky already, the last thing this girl needed was a boost of her ego). "God, you're so wet," she couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "Thanks, Einstein, I haven't noticed," you responded with a hint of sarcasm, perhaps hoping to divert attention away from your embarrassment. She chuckled and an amused smile appeared on her dotted face, her brows jolting up. "Don't you give me the attitude" Before you could say anything back, her digits gently pressed on your still-clothed pussy, making your hips jerk away and a little moan escape your lips. Your face was on fire as you registered the lewd sound that accidentally left your lips. "That's what you get," A broad grin of pride spread across her face, and a fleeting pout that she found endearing appeared on your face "Oh, what? You mad at me, now?" she continued to taunt you, you let out a deep sigh and turned your gaze away.

"Shut up — god, why are you so annoying even in moments like this?" You covered your eyes with the sweaty palm of your hand as you spoke, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You could hear her giggle at your shyness, and it was evident that she enjoyed teasing you and playing with your emotions.

"C'mon pretty, m'just messin' with you." but she couldn't stop snickering to herself, finding your reactions quite funny. "Look at me," she commanded in a gentle tone, and you complied; you moved your hand away from your face and looked down at her, who was positioned between your spread thighs. "Want me to stop?" she questioned again, making you huff in response "Ellie. If you ask me that one more time, i swear—"

"Jesus, just making sure, no need to be so feisty about it" her fingers hooked under the waistband of your pink panties, tugging it down and freeing your dripping cunt. "Do I seriously make you this wet?" she was in disbelief, watching the string of precum that connected your pussy to your damp panties she had just pulled down.

"No, I was secretly thinking of Megan Fox, imagining her on top doing naughty things to me," you sarcastically retorted. She gasped dramatically, acting offended. Such a drama queen she was. "I consider that cheating." She played along, keeping that fake offended demeanor on. You laughed softly at her silly expression. "Okay, then, you caught me. Mentally cheating on you right now," you joked.

"I see how it is" You laughed again, and she scoffed, but she wasn't actually pissed at you.

She began kissing your inner thigh, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. "Els..." you had this whiny hint in your voice, growing visibly impatient, "Hm?" she hummed back, switching to your other thigh, going near your pussy but never actually touching you where you wanted her to. You moved your hips close to her face, but she moved away. "What do you want?" she asked teasingly, playing dumb. Fuck, you hated her guts for doing that. "You know what i want" she clicked her tongue under the roof of her mouth "Don't think I do" you sighed, frustration slowly creeping up inside you "Please?" your voice was delicate, almost as if you were begging her to let you try her fries or asking her to buy you something. She smirked, seeing you all horny and desperate yet still struggling with your words, too shy to tell her what you wanted directly. "Please what?" she encouraged you, that obnoxious cocky grin never leaving her face; she was making fun of you at this point. But you stayed quiet. "Can't read your mind princess, you gotta use your words."

"Touch me?...please?" your voice above a whisper but she heard you, you could tell she did from the satisfied expression casting over her features. "Sorry? Louder. Couldn't hear you" that cunt. You knew she did hear you and that she just wanted to hear it again so, you tried your best to push your shyness aside and please her. "Touch me, Ell-" But she was growing way too impatient, pressing her thumb on your clit, you let out a strangled moan and your hips jerked away at the sudden contact, but she pulled you closer again. Between the two of you, the more impatient one was probably her. Poor baby couldn't even let you say it twice, she was already torturing your aching nub, drawing small circles on it.

"Feeling good?" she questioned, her eyes studying your every reaction to her touch. She knew you felt good but still needed to hear it from you. "Yeah," you breathed out, your breathing becoming more elaborated. "Remember to breathe from your nose, baby. Don't want your heart to go crazy over a little excitement — if it gets too much, tell me." she thoughtfully said. "I'll be fine" you reassured her, grabbing her other hand to squeeze it.

In no time, her lips were on your clit, gently sucking on it. She moaned on it, almost as she she was the one getting head. She could feel her pussy starting to ache, the fabric of her undies sticking to her pussy, but she couldn't help it. The way you sounded, your cute expressions and your pretty pussy were just too much to bare for her. "So fucking beautiful," she mumbled, pulling away from your pussy for a second. She slid a finger inside you and you arched your back, pushing your hips to her face to seek for more contact "This okay, yeah?" her voice was rasp. You whined in response "Ooooh look at her, think she loves me" it took quite a few to understand that she was talking to your pussy instead "God, w-why are you so…" you tried to hide the turmoil in your voice but you interrupted your own words with a slutty moan that left your throat as soon as she pushed her finger deeper into you.

"Fuuuck" you grunted, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and the grip on her hand tightening. "So responsive," she chuckled. "Ellie, shut..up," you whined, moving your hips slowly to meet her thrusts. "Can't even talk without moaning, so nasty." she snickered, acting like she was totally unaffected by your pretty moans. She was fucking soaked, humping into absolutely nothing, not that you could notice it, too focused on the way she was making you feel. The gushing sounds riverbed throughout Ellie's bedroom, and she absolutely fucking loved it. She loved seeing you like this, whimpering and writhing under her touch, so ethereal, your body was pure art to her.

"M-more" you stuttered, panting a bit, your chest raising and falling quickly "More, huh?" she echoed mockingly, sliding another finger into your little honey jar, wetness dripping down to her knuckles from how wet you were. "Gahh-uhhd" you let out incoherent words, she groaned, feeling your walls clenching around her fingers and feeling her own clenching around absolutely nothing. "Like this, yes?" she questioned in a breathy voice, her brain suddenly struggling to make out sentences that made sense, too mushy to say shit and all because of you. If you only knew how long she waited to see you like this — touch you like this. "Uh-aahh" you trapped little whimpers inside your mouth, biting hard on your bottom lip again. "Nah-uh let me hear you," she immediately scolded you, shaking her head in disapproval, but you didn't listen.

Her face lowered to your pussy, lips attaching to your throbbing clit, teasing it with the tip of her tongue, switching between circling it and sucking it gently. Your mouth hung open, arching your back and bucking your hips against her face as you let out obscene moans. She moaned against your core, a mixture of her own spit and your juices covering her chin. "Taste hmmsoo good" Your other hand reached down to move pieces of her hair out of her face. "Ellie, I-i think I'm gonna-" you trailed off, not that she needed you to tell her, she could feel you squeezing her digits as she kept hitting that soft spot inside you. "Gonna cum, baby? wanna cum for me, beautiful?" she cooed.

"God..I love you so fucking much," she hissed under her breath; you moaned loudly in return, riding her fingers "Babe, m'gonna cum" you squealed, high-pitched moans reverbing throughout her apartment. "i'm here, princess" she cooed, squeezing your hand that she had been holding this entire time, so clingy. She wanted to ensure you knew she was there for you, not only to please you. That little feeling that had been building up in your stomach snapped like a rubber band, milking her fingers as she let you ride your orgasm. Curses falling from both of your lips, your muscles spasming and squeezing her fingers — god if she loved the way your body was reacting to her.

"I know, i know, I'm here baby" she whispered sweetly when a few whiny whimpers left your mouth. When you came down from your high, she withdrew her fingers and sucked them clean, her eyes locked with yours as she did so "You're so nasty" you giggled, feeling yourself blush again "You're the one who came all over my fingers" she teased you, crawling up to kiss your lips. Your tongues tangled together and you could taste yourself on her tongue. You place your hands on her waist, pulling her body closer to yours.

"You must be tired, angel." She reluctantly pulled away, an inch away from your lips as she spoke. "Want me to leave you all wet and needy?" you inquired in disbelief, lifting your brows up at her reluctance. Her eyes silently begging you to touch her, but she still preferred to put your health over her needs. That's how caring and loving she was. "I'm just saying you don't need to push yourself if you feel tired," she repeated.

"Oh, Ellie…" you sighed, pulling her underwear down and taking her by surprise. She seemed to be internally struggling to find the right thing to say, but you preceded her, "Think I can't handle a little fun?" you purred, growing bolder in your actions. You cupped her cunt, feeling all her sweet juices cover your hand; she was so fucking soaked, it was almost unbelievable. "Only if you're sure," she answered, her breath hitching in her throat as she gulped thickly, already trying hard to suppress her cute little moans. "I'm sure you want this," you teased her, the corner of your lips curling up in a smile, almost as if to make fun of her; it was your turn now.

"I do, you know I do," she replied. It was so entertaining to watch her keep her breathing steady. You ran your index and middle finger through her glistening folds and began to tease her puffy clit, rubbing it slowly, almost painfully. "Fuck" she grunted, humping the palm of your hand, desperate to find relief; you hummed back. "Am I doing okay?" you asked innocently; despite your inexperience, you could tell she loved it, and you high-fived yourself for the little mental notes you took while she was touching you just a moment ago. She grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers to her entrance. "Finger me," she commanded with a raspy voice.

She let out a small gasp when you thrusted into her slowly. "Like this?" you could feel her walls clenching around your inexperienced fingers, "Uh-huh," she bobbed her head, positioning your hand just how she wanted it, guiding you as she rode your fingers. "Fuck, you're so messy — so wet for me," you muttered under your breath, pulling her closer to you; she was supporting her weight on her wobbly knees as she rode your fingers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. Your other hand rested on her hips, holding her in place and not allowing her to move as you kept slamming your fingers into her. The pleasure sounds she let out right into your ear only served to make you wetter and hornier than you already were — if that was even possible. It was almost like your inexperience melted away, with the sole intent of pleasing her. Immaculate sounds left her throat as she chased her orgasm on your fingers, and you couldn't help but groan pitifully after her. Your pussy already yearning for her again, struggling to hold onto the last shreds of sanity. "Just like that." Her voice was weak and breathy, it was fucking music to your ears, making you feel all types of things inside your tummy, butterflies perhaps? She couldn't even speak properly, struggling to suppress her slutty whimpers. Muttering filthy curses under her breath as you picked up the pace, hitting that spongy spot over and over; you could feel her whole body tremble and squirm in your hands. What made it better was knowing that you were causing it.

"You feel so good, El," you whispered in her ear, kissing all the cute little freckles spattered on her bare shoulder and collarbone "'m gonna cum" she gasped, her whimpers becoming more frequent and louder. Who knew she'd become a whiny mess when close to her orgasm, but for some reason, you found it adorable — like her life depended entirely on your fingers, cute wispy brows furrowed together in concentration. "Gonna cum on my fingers, pretty?" you purred. "Please…" she sounded so fucking needy it was almost ridiculous, but you slowed down instead, earning a groan from her part "Nonono, don't stop, pleaseplease," Her words were rushed, sounding like a kid who had just lost the most precious possession. "What is it that you said? Words, right? — you gonna be a good girl and ask or you just gonna cum like that?" for some reason, the idea of playing with her in such a vulnerable state turned you on. You wanted to see how far you could push her. She let out a shaky breath. "Can't believe you're doing this." She slowly shook her head in disbelief. Your digits pressed on the spot that almost made her squirt, and she squirmed. "Words." You spoke with a firmer tone, but you still had a playful, teasing smirk on your lips. "Swear to fucking god— next time, I won't go so easy on you," uttering a threatening remark followed by an imperceptible scoff. "I never asked you to go easy on me." Your pace slowed down even more, and she frowned at you.

"Can I cum? on your fingers? please." her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her eyes were wide and glossy, her pupils dilated with desperation. "Such a goood girl El, such a good girl…cum for me" but all she could do was crash her lips against yours, leaving you no choice but swallow all her little noises. Her thighs trembled with each thrust, her legs parting slightly to allow better access as your fingers kept thrusting in and out of her wetness harder and faster, causing her to moan into your mouth.

When she came down from her high she collapsed against you, your bodies glistening with sweat, still breathing unevenly. The first thing she said when her breathing went back to normal was "I think I'm gonna marry you," before dissolving into a fit of giggles. You couldn't help but chuckle along with her. "I'm flattered. I guess you liked it then?" you responded, wrapping your arms around her. She snuggled into your chest, a contented smile on her face. "If I liked it?" she repeated, incredulous. You laughed softly, "Well, did you?"

"You were lying when you said it was your first time, weren't you?" she asked teasingly, furrowing her eyebrows at you and looking at you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "I take that as a compliment," you smirked, not giving her a straight answer, her eyes carefully studied your features, analyzing every crease and contour, searching for any sign of deception "No, seriously. Were you a virgin?" she asked again, still in disbelief "I guess you'll never know," you said, teasing her further. "Come on. I'm your girlfriend. I'm supposed to know," she said, acting dramatic and waving her hands in the air. "Are you?" you asked teasingly, and she gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you? Am I not your girlfriend?" she asked, pretending to be hurt. You couldn't help but giggle. "I meant...are you supposed to know?" you teased her curiosity. "Pffttt whatever," she said, pretending to be offended and scooting away from you. You continued laughing at her antics. "Babe, where are you going?" you asked, still chuckling as you reached for her tattooed forearm and pulled her back towards you. "Girlfriends tell each other everything," she pouted playfully. "Right. Let's watch Jurassic Park and cuddle," you suggested, grabbing the remote to put the movie on.

You shared a bond that was unbreakable, and every experience you had together only brought you closer as if there was an invisible red string that seemed to connect the two of you, always pulling you closer and closer with each passing day. Your love for each other was like a never-ending flame that grew brighter with time. She never really stopped surprising you with little thoughtful gifts, and she even drew sketches of you when you weren't looking, and you both looked forward to creating new adventures together. She was always this huge simp for you, your number one supporter and fan.

After completing university, she asked you to move into her small but cozy apartment, which was basically a reflection of her personality. The walls were adorned with paintings she had made, stacks of comic books on her shelves, action figures, and her favorite movies and games collection. It was a delightful mishmash of all the things she loved. And slowly, your belongings started to mix in with hers. Her lonely toothbrush now had a companion, and her sneakers left by the door had an extra pair of shoes right next to them — your shoes. The dirty laundry was now a mix of colorful pink clothes and pastel colors, while hers were mostly grey or dark clothes. The wall hooks had more jackets hanging on them, and cute little stuffed animals were carefully placed on her your bed. The shelves filled with cute little plants that you both lovingly cared for, filling the empty gaps between an action figure and another. Living with her was a dream come true; you couldn't have been happier. You both had created a space that was uniquely yours, filled with love and a familiar warmth, it felt like family.

And before you knew it a new member joined your little family — a golden retriever. You had always dreamt of having a dog, but your parents never allowed you to have one when you were a kid. You had been talking about how much you loved the idea of having a furball running around your little apartment, ever since, Ellie had been secretly planning to surprise you with a cute little puppy. She had subtly asked you what kind of dog you would like, and she started doing her research. She had never owned a dog before, so she wanted to learn as much as possible about what puppies needed. Puppies required more than just toys and cuddles, after all they needed proper nutrition, and she was confused about what kind of food to get for the puppy. She went to the grocery store and found a wide variety of puppy food with different flavors and vitamins. After careful consideration, she picked out what she thought was the best one for the puppy. One day, she told you that she was staying out late for work; in reality, the poor baby had to drive for an hour to get the exact puppy she had seen on social media (Facebook, to be exact, Joel had helped her with that). The puppy was a beautiful golden retriever with a shiny coat and an adorable face. The drive back home with the puppy was mostly quiet, except for her talking to the honey-furred baby that sat there in the passenger seat in silence, looking at her lovingly.

The puppy's big, brown eyes had already stolen her heart, and she found herself speaking in a silly, high-pitched voice "I just know she's gonna love you," she cooed, her words directed at the adorable pup. "You're such a good girl, aren't ya?" she continued, praising the puppy for every little thing she did, even breathing. "You better not be stealing her from me too much, though, or else…" she trailed off, her voice filled with mock threats. But her playful words quickly turned to more affectionate ones as she gazed into the puppy's sweet eyes. "Gosh, you're so fuckin' cute," she whispered, her fingers gently caressing the puppy's soft fur while the other remained on the steering wheel "Wonder what your name will be," she hummed, tapping her fingers lightly on the wheel. She began to sing a song she had just made up on the spot, directed at the little furball who was wiggling her tail in excitement. "My cute little shrimp," she sang, her voice filled with love and affection, but when the puppy let out a little whine at her singing, she couldn't help but laugh at herself. "What? Am I that much of a bad singer?" she joked, her voice filled with self-deprecating humor. "Oof, tough crowd," she added, chuckling at her own joke "Just wait till I show you my guitar skills, you little shit."

When she finally made it to your apartment, she had to carry the little shrimp all the way up to the stairs cause the puppy was too scared to climb them and the elevator was currently broken. She had to take small steps to make sure she wouldn't trip over her own feet or something like that. "So heavy," she muttered under her breath before putting the pup down, her arms aching. She unlocked the door and you immediately called out your name. "You home, baby?" she heard from the kitchen, where she assumed you were washing the dishes because she could hear the sound of clinking plates. She responded, "Could you come here real quick? need your help with something." She left the dog outside on the doorstep, behind the wall and out of your sight.

You shouted from the kitchen, "Give me a second," before approaching her. She handed you a plastic bag filled with dog toys and bowls. You looked at her in confusion since you didn't own a pet. "What's this for?" you asked, puzzled. She didn't reply but simply moved to the side and clicked her tongue multiple times. The fur ball appeared and ran to you wiggling her tail. You slapped your hand on your mouth in disbelief, and your eyes widened in surprise, soon welling up with tears.

You got on your knees and held the pup close to you, hugging the fur ball tightly. "Oh my fucking god, iloveyouiloveyou," you kept rambling between cute sniffles, and she couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "Surprise, babe," she said with a small smile, kneeling down to pet the puppy in your arms. The puppy was small and soft, with big brown eyes and tiny paws. You couldn't believe how adorable she was.

"I love you so fucking much. She is so fucking cute. I can't believe it. I'm a mother now," you said, tears of joy running down your cheeks. She chuckled at your words, happy to see you so happy. "Yep, we're parents now," she played along, scratching the dog behind her ear. "What're we naming her?" she asked then, wiping the tears off your face with her thumb.

"Maple?" you sniffled hard, "Maple, I like Maple." You looked down at the little pup in your arms, and she looked up at you with innocent eyes.

Ever since the beginning, it was clear that Maple was more than just a pet; she was a member of your family. She was such a beautiful and intelligent dog, whenever you or Ellie came home, Maple would be the first to greet you with a wagging tail and excited barks that would fill the room with her infectious energy. She would jump up, her paws dancing in the air, and nuzzle her wet nose against your hand begging for cuddles and kisses. But Maple's abilities went beyond just being a dog. She had an incredible intuition that seemed almost human-like, and had a sixth sense when it came to reading emotions. She always seemed to sense whenever your heart was going a little too crazy and would nudge you with her nose to make you sit down. But your heartbeat wasn't the only thing she could sense; whenever Ellie was about to have a panic attack she could feel it, and if she was having one and you weren't by her side, she would come get you.

You remembered the first time this happened. It was a dark and stormy night, and you and Ellie had just gone to bed. You were sound asleep when Maple jumped up on the bed and began licking your face frantically. You thought she needed to go outside, so you groaned, "Babe, think Maple needs to-" You started, your voice still thick with sleep, but when your hand landed on the empty mattress instead of your girlfriend's shoulder, you instantly woke up.

Following Maple to the bathroom, you found Ellie sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her freckled face, and her breathing uneven. You knelt down in front of her and spoke to her softly, using a soothing tone to calm her down. You knew better than just to touch her; she seemed too absent and lost in her own nightmare to welcome such an invasion. "El, hey…I'm here, honey." As your gentle cooing reached her ears, she seemed to awaken from a trance, her terrified eyes locked with yours, fear etched across her beautiful features. "Hi baby, it's okay." you tried to calm her down, "i'm here, okay?" she was trembling with fear, and your heart sank. You gently placed your hand on her knee and tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. With a soft and soothing voice, you said, "You're safe now...let's take a deep breath together, alright?" You could see the tears streaming down her face as she tried her best to mimic your deep breaths. You kept encouraging her to take deep breaths in and out, and she slowly began to calm down. Maple sat in the corner of the bathroom, watching over Ellie with a concerned expression. When Ellie finally calmed down, you sat down next to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you," you felt her body relax and her breathing steady. She leaned into your touch, and you could feel the tension in her body slowly dissipating. You were her anchor, her everything. You could feel her heartbeat slowing down as she rested her head on your chest, listening to the rhythm of your breathing. You kissed the top of her head tenderly, and she closed her eyes, taking in your scent. Suddenly, she rasped out, "I love you," her voice sounded weak, you knew she was exhausted "I love you more — Feeling better?" You ran your fingers through her messy hair, and she gave you a small nod in response. The golden furball walked to Ellie's other side and laid down, placing her head on her thigh. Ellie smiled weakly and petted her gently "My two favorite girls," you joked with a soft tone, trying to lighten the mood. An airy scoff left her nose as all three of you sat there, cuddling each other.

Maple was an essential part of your family. She was always there, no matter where you went. Sundays were extra special because Ellie would be at home all day. You would spend those days soaking up all her attention and going to the beach with her and Maple, your cute little meatball. There was nothing better than lounging under the warm afternoon sun, and Ellie bringing a big umbrella to shield you from the heat. While you played with Maple, she would often strum her guitar or sketch the two of you, looking at you with heart eyes as she captured the moment on paper. The sound of your laughter would fill the air, as you threw the frisbee to Maple and enjoyed the perfect beach day with Ellie by your side. You were all she ever wanted and she was all you ever wished for.

That's why she felt the need to take your relationship to the next level.

"Baaaabe" you shouted from the living room while browsing through the countless titles on Netflix. "Yeah?" Your girlfriend responded from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the cozy apartment as she paced around, probably making you something to drink. "What do you wanna watch?" your eyes casted across the big TV screen, the multiple titles illuminate your face, making it difficult to choose just one. You heard a sigh from the other side of the couch and looked over to see your beloved dog, Maple, ready to nap after a long day of work. poor dog.

"Uhhh…dunno, a horror movie?" she suggested, sounding unsure. "Wow, thanks for the help, Ellie. Always so useful," You retorted in a fake annoyed tone "Do you remember that new movie with Jennifer Lawrence I told you I wanted to watch?" she asked after a few moments of pondering, emerging from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in her hands. You raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "So, you wanna watch it for her, huh?" She laughed at your words and rolled her eyes. "C'mon, you told me to pick something, and I did," she explained handing you one of the mugs. "Careful, it's hot." You'd never seen this mug before, Ellie was obsessed with collecting new ones, so you didn't really pay attention to it. "Okay, fine, Jennifer Lawrence, it is," you said as you selected the movie she suggested. "Hi, baby," you heard her say in a high-pitched voice, and when you looked at her, you realized she was talking to the dog. "Hi baby? really? I'm literally right here." She giggled at your response and scooted closer to you, kissing your cheek. "Hi baby," she repeated her words, but this time in a sultry tone "Better."

You took another sip of your drink, but you could feel her gaze lingering on you. When you turned to look at her, she quickly averted her eyes and pretended to be interested in the TV. "What?" you asked, brows furrowing in confusion. "What?" she echoed back, acting like she hadn't been staring at you for the last 15 minutes. "No, you what" you repeated, her eyes darting from the mug in your hands to you. "You done with that yet?" she questioned, seeming almost too impatient. "Huh?" she cleared her throat, eyes wandering nervously around the living room for a few seconds before returning them to you again. "Are you done with your latte? Want me to make you more?" she rephrased it, trying to sound less nervous. You looked down at your mug for a second "Not yet"

Her eyes remained glued on you, eagerly awaiting for something, a reaction perhaps, you couldn't tell, she was just acting weird as hell. "Done?" she asked for the third time in a row, after every five seconds, but to her, it felt like an eternity. "Ellie, I swear—" You let out an exasperated sigh "What?" she replied, her voice laced with innocence. "No, seriously. You tryna poison me or something?" you joked,and she simply scoffed at your words and rolled her eyes at you. "Just drink it fast, god," she demanded, her impatience showing. As you take the last sip, your eyes caught a glimpse of a few letters printed on the bottom of the mug.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the words

Will you marry me?

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and before you could even process what was happening, you jumped into her lap, crying in her arms. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, and you could feel her heart beating in sync with yours. "Yesyesyesyes" you had whispered between sobs, your voice choked with emotion. Her eyes lit up with joy and she pulled away, revealing a small diamond ring in her hand. You looked at her in awe, realizing that that was the moment you had been waiting for your entire life. The woman of your dreams had asked you to spend the rest of your life with her, and you couldn't have been happier.

"I love you so much," you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you watched her hands sliding the ring on your finger. She chuckled through her own tears and replied, "I think I love you even more." You sniffled and cupped her face, saying, "I love you with all my heart."

Ellie being Ellie, couldn't help but make a joke about that. She looked at you with a playful smirk on her face; she wiggled her eyebrows up and down and said, "All your heart, huh?"

With a grin, you replied, "It's beating like crazy for you." Then she asked if you wanted to hear a joke from her pun book, but you knew it was a rhetorical question. You prepared yourself for the inevitable dumb joke she was about to tell. "Ellie, I thought we talked about this." You fake scolded her, but she couldn't hold back her smile as she started her joke, almost as if she was about to make the funniest joke ever but everyone who knew Ellie knew that her jokes were...questionable. "Are you pulmonary embolism?" she proceeded, barely containing her laughter.

"Oh no," you frowned, rubbing your forehead. She then delivered the punchline with a wide smile, all proud of herself "Because you take my breath away." You looked at her with a deadpan expression and let out a sigh. You shook your head, and said "Can't believe I'm marrying you," trying to hide the smile that was starting to form on your lips. Ellie looked at you with a cocky grin "Right? I'm great like that — Talented, charming, great jokes...what else could you possibly want?" Rolling your eyes, you responded, "fancy package, lucky me"

After your laughter had subsided, you gazed into her captivating green eyes with a smile filled with affection. You were so deeply in love that it felt almost painful. You could hardly believe how fortunate you were to have found each other. The thought of spending the rest of your lives together filled you with joy and excitement. Both of you leaned in simultaneously, eager to feel the warmth of each other's lips in a tender and passionate kiss.

She was the person who made your life complete. You felt like you had been waiting for her all your life; your life always felt so dull and empty and you never understood why or what it was missing, until you met her. She was your soulmate, your best friend, and the love of your life. You couldn't imagine spending a single day without her by your side. She was the one who made everything better, who made you laugh with her stupid and corny puns when you wanted to cry, who held your hand when you needed comfort. You knew that you could face anything as long as she was with you. You were grateful for every moment you spent together and looked forward to spending the rest of your life with her.

On your wedding day, the weather was perfect, with clear skies and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of flowers from the nearby garden. It felt like a dream come true, and you couldn't believe the day had finally arrived. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you prepared to marry the love of your life. Sure, you were exhausted at the end of the day, but it was all worth it.

As you walked down the aisle, you saw everyone you loved and cared for, all gathered in one place to celebrate your special day. Ellie's closest friends, Dina and Jesse, Joel, your parents, and all your friends were there, beaming with joy and happiness. You were wearing a beautiful white dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, and Ellie couldn't help but cry when she saw you. Her dad rubbed her back, trying to calm the poor baby down, but the tears kept streaming down her face. You were a vision, and she couldn't believe how lucky she was to have you. Ellie was equally breathtaking in her suit, looking sharp and elegant, you couldn't take your eyes off her, she was so fucking fine. You exchanged vows, and it took her a while to finish reading hers, as she was choked up with sobs and emotions. You tried to comfort her by holding her trembling hands, but she was just a wreck.

When the time came for you to kiss your bride, the celebrant said, "You may now kiss your bride." Ellie looked at you with teary eyes, and you both giggled as you leaned in for a kiss, both of you smiling against each other's lips. That moment marked the beginning of your journey together as a married couple, but what mattered most was that you were both committed to being there for each other no matter what.

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ateliersss · 9 months

Text

He Will Come

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: You were caught three days after you and your son's arrival on earth by an organization called Project Stargazer. Now you both were treated like guinea pigs. No wonder, considering said son was a hybrid of human and Yautja. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4,126

You had been stupid, so stupid. You should have listened to Mi'ytiar, should have listened to him when he told you to stay on the ship during your stay on earth while your son went hunting. You had insisted on coming with him, as you desperately wanted to see your home planet again.

Not that you missed it. You loved Mi'ytiar, loved to be his mate, loved your life with him, your son and the new life you had on Yautja Prime.

You had just wanted to get out of the ship, get some fresh air, and see the full moon, which you couldn't see in your new home, when you suddenly were surrounded by soldiers. You didn’t even think about defending yourself, not in your condition. You had let it happen when they grabbed you and put you roughly in one of the black SUVs.

So many questions swirled around in your mind — how did they found you? What about the ship? What did they want with you? Would they hurt you? And what about Akail? Was he hurt?

You hadn’t dared to ask the armed men who were in the car with you. They all had looked at you with different emotions on their faces — disgust, curiosity, anger. One of them wore a grin that made your skin crawl.

When they arrived at their base, you were dragged through many corridors and were examined by — and you thanked God for that — female doctors. They took your blood, forced your into a strange suit, and put you into a completely white room.

Now you sat in a corner, huddled together. The door was in the middle of the wall on the other side of the room. A camera hung in the corner across from you from the ceiling and had an overview of the entire room. It reminded you of an interrogation room with windows to the left and right of the door, which looked like a mirror from the inside but allowed a glimpse into the room from the outside. A table and two chairs were standing in the middle.

You had pulled your legs to your chest as much as your swollen belly would allow, and your head leaned sideways against the wall.

It’s gonna be okay, you thought to yourself, everything’s gonna be fine.

You didn't know if you were trying to calm yourself down or your pup, who could sense your agitation and responded to you with kicking. You sat up straight in a cross-legged position, wrapped your arms protectively around your belly and caressed it soothingly.

Don’t worry, little one. Your daddy will get us out of here, he and your mei’hswei. We’ll be home soon. We can’t wait to meet you.

Not far from you, Sean Keyes greeted Casey Bracket. “There you are!” He said as soon as Casey stepped out of the elevator. “Welcome, I–“

Before he could continue, Casey walked straight past him to look at the two metal helmets and something that looked like a gun, everything displayed behind thick glass. None of it was human.

“Alien technology… Is that what you wanted me to see?” Casey's eyes wandered to the other showcases that displayed more weapons and equipment. “Can I take a better look at it?”

“Ahh.” Sean laughed, “But you haven’t even seen the main attraction.”

Casey tore her gaze from an interesting looking spear engraved with intriguing carvings and looked up at Sean. He had climbed the few steps that led to a glass wall overlooking a mix of operating room and laboratory and gestured with his head for her to follow him.

Quickly joining him, they both looked down and into the room. It was occupied by many people who, from their appearance, were scientists. There were guards, eight in total, guarding all four doors. Screens hung on the walls and desks carried computers and strange gadgets.

The only thing that got Casey’s complete attention was the table in the middle of the room and especially what was on it.

“Doctor Bracket.”

Casey looked away from the creature and at the man who had spoken to her.

“Would you like to meet the Predator?”

Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.

Still processing what she had just seen, she followed Sean Keyes into the decontamination chamber. She was giving a suit that looked similar to the ones the scientists were wearing in the laboratory. The decontamination process didn't take long and she quickly slipped into the suit.

“Thanks for coming.” The dark-skinned man, Will Traeger, said to Casey as soon as the lab door opened and shook her hand. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“If I’m honest, only two.” Casey answered and followed the man down the stairs. “Why do you call it the Predator?”

They came to a halt in front of the table the creature was lying on.

“It’s a nickname. You know, the data suggests that it tracks its prey, exploits weakness. It seems to, well, enjoy it. It’s like a game.”

“That’s not a Predator. That’s a sports hunter.”

“Sorry?”

“A Predator kills its prey to survive. I mean, what you’re describing is more like a bass fisherman.” Casey simply answered, taking a step closer to the table.

“Well, we took a vote. Predator sounds cooler, right?” Will laughed and received approval from the surrounding scientists. “We found him, then his ship and more. He’s heavily sedated.”

She noticed that even unconscious, he was making a sound that closely resembled a cat's purring.

Casey had long stopped listening to him. She was completely absorbed by the creature, or Predator, taking in every inch of it. The physique indicated that it was a male. His height had to be around 7 feet. He had greenish skin that resembled reptilian-like scales. Its head was big and oval in shape. Instead of hair, what appeared to be dreadlocks grew out of it. His mandibles were the most eye-catching feature about him.

Could they be used for defense? And how did the food intake work?

“You are one beautiful motherfucker.” She finally said.

“I’m gonna guess your second question is why you’re here.”

Casey looked up to Will and signaled him with a nod to continue.

“Our test results yielded something a little… odd.”

Sean, standing next to Casey, handed her a device. She looked back and forth between the two men before accepting it. The screen showed a more complex DNA structure than that of a human, without a doubt that of the Predator.

“Is this a joke?” She questioned in disbelief.

“We ran the genome sequence ten times. This specimen has–“

“–human DNA.” Casey finished stunned.

“Yeah.” Will nodded, “Look, we know about spontaneous speciation. Mostly plants and insects but–“

“But some mammals. The Red Wolf, for example, a hybrid of the coyote and the grey wolf.” Sean interrupted him this time.

“It’s possibly some form of recombinant technology.” Will added.

“I get it. You want to know if someone fucked an alien.” Casey summed it up, finally knowing her purpose here.

“Not necessarily.”

Casey looked questioningly at Will. "Meaning?"

“Meaning, we have a rough idea. We would just like to know the detailed procedure.”

Casey's eyes widened and she looked at him in bewilderment. “You don't seriously expect a woman to procreate with that thing. There's no way that–“

“Oh, there is no need for that.” Sean assured her, “His equipment led us to his ship. We found it, but not only that.” He turned to the largest screen in the room and nodded to a man who started typing on his computer and turned the screen on. It showed some kind of interrogation room.

It wasn't long before Casey spotted a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth.

“Are you trying to tell me that this is…”

“His mother, yes.” Will confirmed her thought. “His DNA matches with hers. Even through the father’s genetic heritage is more dominant than hers, you can still see differences between this one–“ He nodded to unconscious alien, “–and a homozygous Predator.”

“Wow indeed. And not only that, her human DNA has been altered to resemble that of the Predator.”

“Wow.” Casey mumbled and returned her gaze to the screen.

The woman now walked in circles through the room, stroking — and the biologist had to do a double take — her growing stomach.

Holy hell, she was pregnant!

Casey watched her mouth moving, so either she was singing or talking to the baby.

“We believe it’s a kind of adaptation to the living conditions of his home planet.” Sean started, “According to the blood tests, and we did several because we didn't want to believe the results, this woman is 73 years old, although she looks to be in her mid-20s.”

Casey’s mouth fell open, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “I want to meet her.”

He nodded and smiled at her. “That was the plan. No one has spoken to her yet, not even the nurse who brought her food or was taking her to the bathroom.”

“While science can answer many questions and give us great insight into our being, there are still things that remain unanswered.” Will added, "We don't know when she left Earth or how it was possible for her to reproduce with an alien. We don't know how her DNA changed, and because of that, we don't even know who she is.”

Casey nodded. “And you want me to get the answers to those questions from her?”

“Indeed.”

Casey was watching you through the one-way window. You were still pacing, one hand supporting your back and the other stroking your stomach in a circular motion. Even though you seemed nervous and scared, you also looked like a proud lioness ready to attack to protect her baby.

“Ready?” Sean asked.

Casey looked briefly at him and nodded.

“Great. We will wait here to watch and listen. In her condition I doubt she will attempt anything for the sake of her child, but if she does it will only take a second and security will rush the room.”

“Good to know.” She mumbled before heading to the door.

With a deep breath, she pushed down the door handle.

You caught that movement in the corner of your eye and turned to the intruder. “What have you done to him?!” You immediately demanded hysterically, growling at her like a wild animal. “Where did you take him? Where did you take my son?”

It was good that Casey was the first to speak to you. Probably no one out there had the slightest decency to treat you like a real person and would have strapped you to a table, too, careless of harm to you or your child.

“They took him to a lab and are holding him there. Nobody hurt him, I swear it.” Casey said, raising her hands to show you she meant no harm. “They just want to know more about him and his kind and why he is here, that’s all.”

You stared at her, softly caressing your belly as you pondered her words.

When there was no reply, Casey continued, “I just want to talk to you. We want to know how you… why you…”

“Why I got knocked up by an alien?” You suggested bluntly.

Casey nodded. “Yes. It’s practically unthinkable to come across an alien hybrid and its mother.”

“Where I went after his father took me from Earth, it’s more of a rarity than unthinkable.”

Casey took a step forward and hastily asked, “Do you mean you're not the only one? Are there other humans who procreate with them? Are they also studying hybrids and their traits?”

You laughed at her eagerness and walked over to the chair closest to you, sitting down on it. You waved your hand at Casey to do the same, as if you were hinting you were going to cooperate to answer her questions. The biologist glanced back over her shoulder at the reflective window where Sean and Will were watching the conversation. She sat down in the chair opposite of you and looked at you expectantly.

“Before I say another word, I want to see that my son is okay.” You demanded, trying to suppress the tremor in your voice, the very first sign of weakness.

Casey turned back to the windows and waited for someone to come through the door. Instead, the reflective surfaces of the windows turned into screens showing one and the same image — the captured Predator, still tied to the table and asleep.

There was a whimper coming from behind her. When she turned back, she saw tears building up in your eyes and one hand pressed to your mouth. It was surreal to Casey for a human having such an emotional reaction for an alien creature. On the other hand, this was his mother, unbelievable and absurd as it may seem.

You seemed to calm down, your eyes still fixed on the screen. You nodded to yourself before tearing your eyes away to look at Casey. The windows had returned to its normal state.

“We’re going to start with some easy questions, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Great. First I would like to know your name.”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You answered.

“Would it be okay if I call you (Y/N)?”

“I would appreciate it.” You said, “It's a nice change from all the other names I've gotten so far.”

“What do you mean?” Casey inquired.

“Alien fucker. Alien whore. Desperate little bitch who thought a man’s dick isn’t enough for her. Nothing I didn't expect from men.” You shrugged, “It just proves once again that Yautja males treat their females with far more respect and honor than a human male could ever comprehend.”

“Yautja?” Casey asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the tabletop.

“You call them Predator, but their kind is actually called Yautja.” You explained.

Casey nodded and started to play with her fingers, her next question burning on her tongue. “How did you get into this whole thing? How did you get in contact with them?”

You huffed. “It’s quite ironic, you know. On the contrary what you may have expected, he saved me.”

“Saved you from what?”

“Again, men. Three of them. They had cornered me, kept groping me, pulled on my clothes…” You had to pause for a second.

Almost 50 years ago, you had been afraid when Mi'ytiar had taken you from Earth to bring you to Yautja Prime. But looking back, that fear hadn't been as great as what you felt at the thought of what those men would have done to you if he hadn't intervened.

“He protected me from those monsters… my own kind.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yautja take their prey as a trophy after each successful hunt. Not only did he rip their heads off and their spines out, he also took me. I expected him to hurt me, to keep me as a slave, or... or to do what these men wanted to do to me. I found out later that I was really lucky that he, of all other Yautja, rescued me. It's incredibly rare that one of them takes an interest in a human being. Usually, they kill every last of them. Humans are too weak and too soft, but that’s exactly what he loves about me. That’s why he kept me alive.”

You let out sigh, considering how much you should reveal about the Yautja culture.

“On the contrary to me, a Yautja female is rough and large, even larger than a male. After all, they are the ones who carry their offspring and ensure the survival of their kind. The males have to fight for dominance and if the male wins, the female deems him worthy enough for mating and submits.”

Casey shifted in her seat. “Did you… Did he expect the same from you? Did he force you into submission to…?”

“Never.” You growled protectively, “He never forced himself onto me. Never. He was more patient and understanding than all the human males I ever met in my life. He treated me like I was the most precious thing he has ever seen. Never did he touch me without my permission.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Casey soothed you.

She had to be more careful and had to see this whole situation through your eyes — you were separated from your son and held at a facility who was examining you both while you had to worry about your unborn baby.

“Do you want to tell me about your relationship with him? Your, uhm…”

“He is my mate. My Life Mate.”

“Life Mate?”

“Female Yautja can mate with multiple males and give birth to their children, but some also choose a permanent mate. You could compare it to one-night-stands and marriage, only you can't divorce. It's not called Life Mate for nothing. You are bonded to each other for the rest of your life and they live for hundreds of years.”

“Can I know the name of your Life Mate?”

You eyed Casey briefly, looked over her shoulder at the reflective windows then at the camera in the corner and then back at her. “His name is Mi'ytiar. He is the leader of his clan.”

Casey sat up straight. “They live in clans? Like wolves in packs or horses in herds?”

You nodded. “With similar hierarchy dynamics, yes. There are many clans on their home planet, each living peacefully on their own. Sometimes clans visit each other, hunt together, celebrate together. That's how I found out that I'm not the only human on this planet.” You said, “But apparently I’m the only one who mated a clan leader. Most of them are expected to have a strong successor to take after them and Mi'ytiar, of all Yautja, chose a weak little human to bear his pups.”

Jackpot, Casey thought.

She finally got to the part that intrigued her the most — how was it humanly possible that you got pregnant, how was it possible for you to carry the child of an alien, and how did it not kill you?

“Since Mi'ytiar has fully committed himself to me, it was up to me to bear his offspring. The Yautja of his clan never dared to say anything. I’m the clan leader's mate, after all. But I noticed it in the way they treated me and looked at me. They knew it wasn’t possible for me to carry his children.” You looked down at your baby bump and returned to caress it. It seemed to keep you calm.

“At that point, that fact made me really upset. I got to know their culture, learned everything there was to know about them. I even started learning their language. I fulfill any task assigned to a clan leader's mate. I make my mate happy and proud. But I couldn’t give him a child.”

You looked up and into Casey’s eyes.

“Mi'ytiar is very attentive and he soon noticed that something was upsetting me. Apparently he was the only one who hadn't thought about his offspring at all.” You paused for a second to smile, remembering his reaction when he found out that you wanted to carry his pups. “The second he knew he wanted to keep me around when he took me away from Earth, he injected me with his blood. No matter how many times I've been called fragile and puny, the human immune system can sometimes work wonders. His blood had slowed down my aging and allowed me to survive on his planet. So we visited a healer to finalize my life as his Life Mate.”

Your cheeks flushed as you thought of how Mi'ytiar hadn't hesitated another second to make sure you got pregnant. You had spent several days in your bed, or nest as he called it, and there had been hardly a moment when he wasn't inside you. The thought of his beautiful mate, his love, carrying his pup in her belly had made him feral.

It hadn't been long before his seed took. The other Yautja had a satisfied reaction when they saw that their leader was about to become a father. Also, they finally treated you like a part of the clan. You had fully proved yourself, proved you could provide for the clan. You were finally one of them.

Akail's birth was hard. It felt like he was tearing you apart from the inside out. But thanks to the injections of his blood and the additional help of the tribal healer, your body strengthened enough that you didn't die, even though it felt like it. You were crying and smiling, with your mate at your side, holding your little bundle of joy in your arms.

He looked just like his father, no indication that his mother was human. However, his animalistic features were a little softer, difficult to recognize unless you were the mother. While you are being tended to, Mi'ytiar took his son in his arms to proudly introduce him to his clan.

Fondly, you thought back to one moment, a core memory — Mi'ytiar, lying on his side with you snuggled against him, both naked and partly covered in fur, and little Akail, just ten hours old, resting on your chest. At that point you were so incredibly happy.

It sounded weird and absurd that this was your life and no human would understand, but you would never trade it for anything.

“What’s the catch?” Casey asked after a while of watching you quietly stroking your belly.

“Huh?” You looked up.

“I don't think you're telling us all this without an ulterior motive. So what’s the catch?”

“I want to quench your thirst for scientific knowledge and in return, I hope you will release me and my son. There is no need to keep us here.”

Casey started to rock back and forth in her chair. “I don’t think that will be possible. There are still things that we–“

“Listen, I have cooperated in the hope we will be released when all your questions are answered. You won’t like what will happen if we are not soon to be freed.”

Casey glanced over her shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time, unsure of what to do or what to say.

“I promised him to contact him every day, you know. My mate.” You said, pride permeating your body. “And do you know what it will tell him? The silence?” Your question was obviously rhetorical. “It will tell him that something happened to me and therefore also to his son, because Akail would rather die fighting for his mother and Mi'ytiar knows that.”

Casey gulped. The threat was clear as the day.

“He will come and not alone. Do you really think you stand a chance against them?” You laughed, now more confident. “The human nature is arrogant, thinking they are superior to everyone. Eventually that will be the reason for your extinction. Your haughty stupidity will be the death of you.”

“(Y/N)–” Casey tried, but she was interrupted.

“No, you will listen to me just like you've been doing for half an hour now. I have lived among them for decades. I learned from them, I’m one of them. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate and it will end deadly for you. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate who’s pregnant and I promise you, you will beg for them to kill you.”

“(Y/N), there is nothing in my power to help you. I was simply asked here as an expert to examine this Yautja… your son. I can’t–”

“You will. And I'm not just talking to you in this case.” Your eyes wandered from her face to the windows and nodded to the people you assumed to be standing behind the glass, watching you. “I’m talking to them, the ones who have the power. Set me and my son free and I promise you nothing will happen to any of you.”

Suddenly, a blaring alarm sounded, startling both Casey and you.

Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around your stomach in a protective manner.

“Code Red. Subject Predator is on the loose.”

A shuddering sigh of relief left your lips as you slowly began to smile. You knew they couldn’t keep Akail immobilized for long.

One of the things he had in common with his father was that he was just as protective over you as he was. He would come to look for you.

Casey had already jumped out of her chair and was talking frantically to the people on the other side of the one-sided window.

You began to talk to your pup again, “Your mei'hswei is coming, sweetling. Soon the three of us will be back with daddy.”

continue with the second part He Is Here.

#predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja x human

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itgomyway · 7 months

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lets talk about “being” and deciding if you actually want to study non dualism

“let yourself be” is not a statement that should fill you with anticipation. it’s not a statement that should leave you wondering how. if it does, then im afraid you don’t get non dualism.

manifesting is a process. even if you claim you manifest instantly the process still goes from lack to fulfillment. and that is fine. if you’re comfortable with that then please continue to follow loa. if you couldnt manifest with loa, nd is not a substitute. i see so many questions that are loa coded like youre trying to ask me about loa with non dualism terms. that isnt how any of this works.

i am not comfortable always living in desire. when i studied the law of assumption i manifested my desires but it just felt so… pointless? like no matter what i was settling for crumbs of things i didn’t even want in the first place. what i wanted was to be free.

that is what non dualism is. its spiritual awakening to help you manage the human condition as free as possible. we are all on this earth as “humans” so theres no getting around it. thats fine. instead of spending my short time here in desire, i just wanna be safe.

there IS no desiring or manifesting when you understand non dualism. by understanding non dualism you are freeing yourself from the human condition. this includes desiring, thoughts, fears, and beliefs.

you’re a being of consciousness occupying a human body. the only existing part is consciousness. with nd, you are simply retaking that role instead of giving it to desire, manifesting, tarot; astrology etc. those are not real, only you as consciousness is.

you can do the aforementioned just fine! but understand that its not non dualism. non dualism is not the only way to live it is just the most freeing way to live. so ask yourself: do you want to be free or do you want to live in desire?

“why not both” because that dissolves into what non dualism is about. you are consciousness meaning everything. as everything, what is there to desire? what is there to manifest? you either believe you are everything or you put yourself in a position to receive.

so again, if you want to go from a human being experiencing lack to a human being experiencing fulfillment then DO SO. its fine. its not wrong. i don’t care either way. but if you want that then leave non dualism alone. because you just wont get it thinking that way.

so now how do you be? by leaving the “world” as you “see” it alone. its not real. the only thing that could make it real is the observer you know, observing it as real. even if you dont want to follow nd, thats how it works.

“k but how do-“ please stop. youre not doing anything. you, as everything, do not have to. you are safe now everything is okay just live your life AND LET YOURSELF BE.

#consciousness #nonduality #nondualism #awareness

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truthseeker-blogger · 2 months

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“In the last Quarter of Life” A lot of us are in the last quarter of life and I share without politics, religion, race cards. Just gentle thoughts: You know, time has a way of catching you off-guard about how quickly it travels. It feels like just yesterday that I was young and ready to start adult-life. And in a way it feels like eons ago, and I wonder where the years have gone. I know I lived them all. I remember all my hopes and dreams. I remember the plans I made. And suddenly, here I am in the last quarter. How did I get here so fast? Where have the years gone and where did my youth go? I can recall looking at older people, thinking how long it will take for me to get where they are. That I am still in my youth, that I have many years ahead. At that time I could not even think of being where I am now. And yet, here I am. My friends are retired, they all have grey hair, they move much slower than they did and when I look at them, I see older people. Some are in a better and some a worse condition than me. But I see the big difference. They are no longer the youthful, carefree, full-of-life friends. Just like me, age shows. And we are now the older people we used to look at and thought it was still a long way off. I find that these days, taking a shower takes its toll on my breath and energy levels. And an afternoon nap is not just a treat, it’s become a necessity. And if I don’t, I find myself sleeping in the same chair I started reading or watching television in. Now I have entered this new season of my life, totally unprepapred for the discomfort, aches and pains, loss of energy and strength and ability to do what I could, yet sometimes didn’t. At least I know that, even though I am in the last quarter and I have no idea how long this quarter will be, when my time on earth is over, a new adventure awaits too. Yes, I do have things I wish I I had never done. Yet so thankful for those I did. It is all in a lifetime. And if you are not in the last quarter yet, I want to remind you that it comes faster than you could anticipate. Do the things you still want to do as soon as possible. Do not procrastinate. Life runs on fast legs. Do today what you can. There is no promise that we will all see the seasons of life. Live for today. For now. Say the words to the ones you love. Often. Hopefully some will appreciate the things you did for them. And if they don’t, it is also okay. Life is truly a gift. Just be happy. It is afterall your choice. And remember that health is a treasure, not wealth, gold and silver, property or your bank balance. You may think that going out is the best, but believe me – coming home is better. You may forget names and that is okay, because some have already forgotten that they knew you. The things you cared about previously, you may lose interest in. If you fall asleep in your favourite chair, stay there. Growing older is wonderful. It is comfortable. It is loaded with memories that you never grow tired of. It is an absolute treasure. Look after yourself.

Credit go for respective owner

#Pepperly Facebook page

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mariana-oconnor · 7 months

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The Dancing Men pt 3

Last time things took a turn for the decidedly worse with our client dead and his wife suffering a bullet to the brain. All because of the idiosyncracies of British public transport and Holmes dislike of giving away any hint of what he is thinking until he has all his ducks in rows.

Also he sent a 'youth' with a message to a murderer.

If any visitor were to call asking for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt no information should be given as to her condition, but he was to be shown at once into the drawing-room. He impressed these points upon them with the utmost earnestness. Finally he led the way into the drawing-room...

“I think that I can help you to pass an hour in an interesting and profitable manner,” said Holmes...

There are so many ways a sentence like that could end...

👀

...spreading out in front of him the various papers upon which were recorded the antics of the dancing men.

Ah, yes... puzzle time again. What else could he have meant?

And now we are having a code-breaking lesson. Love a good code-breaking lesson. Really it's their own fault for not using a more complex cypher; simple substitution cyphers are always going to be easy to break. You need to make it more complicated. Like, every six letters the symbols move one letter earlier in the alphabet or something like that. Or muddle the letters up in a prearranged pattern.

"...it was probable from the way in which the flags were distributed that they were used to break the sentence up into words."

I understand that these encrypted messages led to death and misery, but this is adorable. The letters at the ends of the words carry little stop flags.

"It might be ‘sever,’ or ‘lever,’ or ‘never.’"

Or defer or deter or meter or Peter or Meier or vexed...

“I expect him here every instant.” “But why should he come?” “Because I have written and asked him.”

Bless his heart. Got to wonder what Inspector Martin thought Holmes was doing by drawing out a lot of little dancing men and then sending them to the person he just named in his little explanation.

It's not a massive leap of logic.

"I may have threatened her, God forgive me, but I would not have touched a hair of her pretty head."

My dude, you literally told the woman to prepare to meet her god. I do not know why you are surprised that people would think you wanted to hurt her. That is not the sort of thing you send messages about when you don't want to hurt someone.

"I tell you there was never a man in this world loved a woman more than I loved her. I had a right to her. She was pledged to me years ago. Who was this Englishman that he should come between us? I tell you that I had the first right to her, and that I was only claiming my own."

That is not how love works.

“You wrote it? There was no one on earth outside the Joint who knew the secret of the dancing men. How came you to write it?”

Dude, it's literally just a substitution cypher.

“It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you,” cried the inspector, with the magnificent fair-play of the British criminal law.

“First of all, I want you gentlemen to understand that I have known this lady since she was a child."

I used the beheading gif too early. I memed too far, too fast.

"I wrote to her, but got no answer."

Some might say that is an answer.

"Of Mrs. Hilton Cubitt I only know that I have heard she recovered entirely, and that she still remains a widow, devoting her whole life to the care of the poor and to the administration of her husband's estate."

Glad she recovered, sad for literally everything else.

Yeah, this is a sad one. And so dumb... like... get over yourself. She's married to someone else and she's not replying to your messages. Just move the fuck on. Wow.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Dancing Men #long post

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lafcadiosadventures · 3 months

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Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXX

Fatal Fate versus Divine Voluptousness

The Origin of a Better World, illustration for Ottavio Scarlatini's Homo symbolicus (1695) (please leaf through this book if you have the time and like me love allegorical emblems)

Patrick returns home, completely wrecked after the ceremonial degradation, and a walk home that however brief must have felt like a via crucis. His clothes mark him as a degraded man. I imagine the dirty looks, the insults and more from his former colleagues who now think him a murderer, seducer of women and a robber.

Deborah’s compassionate reaction to his state and humiliating clothes break him down. He returns psychologically to a conversation they had back in Ireland, when they were discussing which of the two was the doomed party and who was dragging the other to misfortune, a misfortune they could be spared of if they broke ties with the Doomed One? In the light of what has just happened, Patrick thinks it’s him. Poetry gives him wings and he expresses his despair like this:

“I am deadly, do you see! Let me roll from one abyss to another on my own; do not bind your life which without me would be beautiful, to mine, which shall be horrible till the end.”

(tr. @sainteverge )

these lines made me think of the opening verses of El desdichado. Here Patrick speaks to Deborah, but he also seems to speak to the reader, and perhaps incarnates more than just himself. We have seen many young men of Romantic French Literature looking deep into their souls and wondering if their problems (which are of a sociopolitical nature) are due to some tragic, constitutive fatal flaw that makes them not only incapable of happiness, but also harmful to those closest to them (like Lucien, a creature of a vastly different nature than Pat's, realizing how easily, how natural harming others comes to him. He is deadly and he doesn’t even intend to be so, it’s in his nature. Patrick is less about thoughtless bad choices and selfishness, but this seems like a common thread in Romanticism, there is something beyond the character's control, be it fate, or a poisonous nature, that not only hinders them, but more importantly, those they love. Why does this trope keep repeating itself in this in this context of great sociopolitical change and agitation, where things seem to escape the grasp of our reason and will.... seems like zeitgeist, more than a literary trend)

Deborah’s response is that she would always choose to bind her fate to his, no matter what. Is a life of comfort and worldly success worth anything without the One she loves above everyone else? Besides, she argues, it is her the one who has forsaken him, but she also doesn’t care about that, because being doomed together is a life so much more worth living than happiness in isolation from each other. She also argues that true love has to endure adversity, a love that only lasts while your partner is joyful isn’t real love either. She explains her role as a lover in rousseaunian/catholic terms, she has been put on earth to lighten the burden of her man's sorrow, he has to let her share his pain. The only condition Deborah would accept to let Patrick leave her, is if he believed she was the source of his unhappiness, or that in interfering with Fate she was making things worse. She even proposes he abandons her in times of joy, and returns to her when he is unhappy, her arms will always nurture him back to joy. Deborah is. Completely addicted to him, she would accept such a sorry role because anything is better than not seeing him again.

Patrickpassionately appologizes and responds: Stay if you want to immolate yourself. He admits he wants to drive her away from him because she is the only source of happiness, what is tying him to life, and he wants to die. And she is the only thing in the world his soul isn’t sick of. Patrick is trying to protect her from his depressive nature. (here the Dark Fate seems to take the form of untreated depression, Patrick is doomed because he is sick and has no idea how to deal with his sickness)

Deborah then reveals she is pregnant. She can perhaps anticipate what Patrick’s reaction will be, because she doesn’t even address the fact that he just told her he sometimes want to die and drive her away from him because of this.

Patrick has a wild moodswing. Deborah's words bring him back to life in a way. He strips himself of his humiliating outfit, he tramples it, he showers Deborah with kisses. While doing so he gives a vital, perhaps kind of pagan sermon. He shouldn’t be surprised to be given such joy because god hasn’t actually denied him anything. And more startlingly for a catholic, listen to this beauty:

“God is the source of all voluptuousness”

He adds, like a true follower of Rousseau, “and the world is the source of all tribulations” Hell is other people, as later philosophers will say. Sensual pleasure and joy are nothing to feel guilty about since they are god given. the World, as a Cultural Entity, is what makes Evil possible. This Joy must be protected at all cost from Other Men. (aka Villepastour)

His vitality lasts enough for him to say he will know how to defend this god given source of joy. What follows is sadly less vital: they will hide their child, they will shield him from the world and mundane evil, that’s the only way to guarantee their child’s happiness.

Deborah agrees. I cannot judge them too harshly because in their situation it is very natural to feel that isolated, and in fact, after the horrors of the Home (actually Palace, not really a Home) as Prison, their venturing into the outside world has indeed been mostly negative. But this reaction seems thanatical. Is leaving France in secret no longer possible? Do they imagine all of Europe would be hostile to them? Is there no where to run, since monarchies are everywhere? (beacuse they don’t dream, like other Borelesian characters, of life outside of Europe) In a way, they yearn to recreate a Home Prison of Their Own for their child, even if they envison it as safe and joyful, it involves hiding and concealment and isolation,,, and not letting the child explore the world for his own. Again, the mindset seems like a comprehensible defense mechanism.

In a deeply touching and beautiful paragraph, Patrick confesses being a young father has been a lifelong dream of his. He plans a paradise life for just the three of them. Their youth will make them playmates of their child, the three of them will live in complete happiness together. Patrick wants none of that patriachal authority bestowed by old age, he wants to be a peer to his child, play together, enjoy life and nature the three of them, shielded from all social evils.

"(...)my constant desire was to have a son in my youth. Oh! what would I care to be a father later in life, to have sons who’d only know me dull and decrepit, who’d enter life when I’d descend into my tomb; who would miss me just when they need my solicitude; sons whom I’d never see grow into men, whose careers I wouldn’t be able to follow, whom I wouldn’t be able to support in the face of adversity. “I do not want a son who trembles at the sound of my austere voice, and who pities my white hair, and who keeps it shut in front of me. It is a friend that I want, a companion in life who loves and follows me in all places; who is young like me, and I fiery like him; who shares my games, my work, my illusions, my pain, my delights and even my debauches; finally who keeps no secrets from me in his heart, and I none in my heart from him. (...) He’ll be as beautiful as you, Deborah; he’ll be as beautiful as your soul! You’ll play together; he’ll be your doll; we’ll all three play together, without arguing ever. (...)"

(tr. by @sainteverge !!)

There's beauty, love, solidarity, camaradery, and of course a refusal of being a sombre source of grim authority for his son. The mention of his debauches is,,, interesting but I imagine he means he wants his son to trust him enough to share the stories of the adventures he will have, with him (so the isolation will not be complete after all) A son is not a doll, but, yeah, a beautiful paragraph, and an interesting example of Patrick, probably like a Wertherian Romantic rejecting Traditional Paternal Authority (another key theme in romantic Literature, the role of the father is constantly put into trial) and as is usual with him, traditional masculinity.

[ @counterwiddershins ]

#madame putiphar #1st putifriday of the year :>#long post #text post

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thatgeekyemo · 2 years

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Hope Dangles On A String

peter parker x reader | 3.3k

summery: "So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?" You can't have heard that right. Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

prompt 5: "Could you hold my hand?", requested by iloveyou3000 on Wattpad

note: I wanna see who gets some references I made. Some are more tricky than the others. (Hint: I've already made one)Also, this was written before NWH came out :)

The library had become one of your favorite places since you came back. It was quiet, filled with knowledge, and always air conditioned.

The library at Midtown School of Science and Technology in particular was a place you spent most of your free time in nowadays. You always got to the school early in the morning and always stayed hours after the school day was over. Ever since The Blip, it had become your second home; it was the most familiar place you could go to. A place where you could re-adjust to the world you grew up in and catch up on the five years of history you missed.

Currently, there weren't many people in the library with you, since school wasn't set to start for another month. But the administration always left the doors open for the book club and Decathlon team. You weren't in either, but as long as you still followed the rules, you were always welcome.

The library was a safe place. No one ever bothered you, and you could always get what you wanted to get done done.

You were friends with the librarian. You even helped out every once in a while. Being surrounded by so much information and stories helped you feel at ease. Helped you feel like you weren't the only person with the loss of them. Like you weren't the only one out of the loop.

With a book open in front of you--about how the world dealt and built itself back up after half its population suddenly disappearing--you tried your hardest to understand how the world functioned when you were gone, having been one of the people that disappeared.

It was a hard thing to wrap your mind around, believing that you had been gone five whole years. Everything just seemed like a blink to you. One second, you were scared for your life, wondering if Iron Man and Spider-Man were ever going to come back from following that alien spaceship into the sky. The next, you found yourself on the floor in a bedroom that wasn't yours, but at the same time was. One second, you had been sitting in dead silence, the next, the air was filled with the ear splitting yell of a young girl, screaming at you like you were an intruder in your own home.

You were.

In what felt like a blink, an entire five years had passed on Earth. Had passed everywhere. People grieved. Then people moved on with their lives.

You, among hundreds of thousands of other people, had to find new homes. New jobs. It was hard to believe that you were thrust five years and two months into the future, when just a second ago, you had been in 2018.

But of course, you knew the entire world couldn't be playing a giant trick. That against all probability, it had actually happened. You had to believe it whether you wanted to or not. This was your life now.

Just as you were getting settled, some boxes in your new room still unpacked, your parents urged you to go on your science class' summer field trip. They, as well as you, had thought that maybe it could help you unwind from the stress of living in a familiar but unfamiliar world.

Instead, Mysterio and the Elementals had happened, and what was supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation turned into looking over your shoulder to make sure another danger wasn't creeping up out of thin air every waking moment.

You had broken down in the airport once it was all over. Once everyone was safe. It was all too much. You didn't understand how people could live their lives like it was normal. How they weren't affected like you were. Too many life changing and endangering events had happened in rapid succession and it was too much for you.

It was Peter who held you then like he always had. It was Peter who pulled you from your spiraling state by making you focus on his voice. It was Peter who held your hand and wouldn't let go until you were okay enough to pull away.

You could always count on him to get you out of a tough place and stick by your side for the entirety of it all. And he didn't ask for anything out of it. Just that you would do the same.

That was a promise you had made to him years ago.

There were two other people in the library with you, not including the librarian, who was in the back room. You took note of them the second they walked in. You didn't know their names, so you figured might have been kids that survived. It was easier for you to keep an eye on everything around you. It made you feel better. The two teens had identical books of their own open in front of them, so you had initially assumed they were in the school's book club. But as the time passed, they disregarded reading and resorted to their phones. It didn't matter to you what they were doing. As long as it didn't break your concentration, they could talk quietly and laugh amongst themselves all they wanted. You didn't bother them, they didn't bother you.

So when you caught them staring, you had tried to disregard it. You hadn't done nothing much other than read the book you had checked out. There was a list of things that made you uncomfortable, and people staring was on it. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept your own trained on the pages in your hands. You knew you hadn't looked bad when you left your house that morning--your clothes were clean, your hair was combed--yet there was something that continued to make you their point of interest. It set you on edge, how their whispering dropped so that even you couldn't hear the words in the silence of the library. You hadn't done anything wrong, so what made you so interesting?

You didn't like being the center of attention. Not more than you already were. People treated you like you were some kind of baby, since you returned. They pitied you. Saw you as someone who needed help. And while you were, you didn't need them butting in. You had your own support group. Your own ways of getting the help you needed. But no one knew. No one really cared. Not unless their 'acts of kindness' were visible for the public to see.

So why single you out now? In the seclusion of the library, where no one else was around?

You thought about leaving, just to get away from their prying eyes. You had noticed them get up and move to a table closer to yours, really not subtlety at all. But then just as you made the decision to pack up once you finished the chapter you were on, you realized that you could hear them. The reason because they moved closer or having raised their voices up for debate.

"But she's his best friend!"

"You can't seriously think she helped him do it, can you?"

"We don't have any proof she didn't!"

They seemed to be arguing. Loud enough for you to hear. Loud enough for you to figure out they were talking about you.

It made your skin crawl. The fact that you were the topic of their conversation, but you had no idea what they were talking about. The fact that they were blaming you for something. You hadn't committed a crime in your life. The closest you'd ever come was bearing witness to more than a few.

You unconsciously found yourself squeezing your fists tight enough that you felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. Taking a deep breath, you came to the unsettling conclusion that they wouldn't stop unless you dealt with it.

For the first time, you turned your head to look at them. Taking a moment to try and further understand the situation, you watched them. They couldn't have been older than you, they looked around your age. One of two things that stood out from the picture was that the girl had dyed bright pink hair. The other was the bright red news headline that lit up her discarded phone screen.

The boy caught your eyes first, promptly shutting his mouth and a look of fear flickering on his face. His reaction made the girl stop and look over at you, her eyes narrowing instantly. Like you were some kind of suspect. And going off of what you heard them talk about, you might as well be.

Shakily, you stood up and walked over to their table, holding your arms close to your body. You opened your mouth to say something, but you hadn't really thought this through.

After a gulp, you found your voice. But you were starting to feel small under the girls stare. "Hi." You tested carefully, your voice quiet. "Do you- do you need me for something?"

Her eyes lit up like she was just given a gift. The boy just cowered in his seat, like he was ashamed. "Yes, actually!" Her voice was cheerful, but the smile on her face was fake. Her words had a sharp edge to them, and you were afraid that they were nearing to cut you. "You haven't heard the news?"

"Billie, don't." The boy whispered behind her, glancing up, but avoiding your gaze.

"Don't what?" You tried not to flinch as Billie stood up. You couldn't stop yourself from stepping back though. She was taller than you, and her proximity was too close. "What news?"

"About Spider-Man." she stated blankly like she was bored you didn't already know. She paused, and it looked like she was waiting for your reaction. "About Peter Parker."

"No?" You said slowly, confused to hear those names put together like that. You wanted to ask, but that wasn't the point. You wanted them to stop talking about you. If for some reason there was some news involving Peter and Spider-Man that he hadn't told you yet, you were sure to find out soon. And if you didn't, you could just look it up when you got home. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Billie." The boy warned again, but she just sent him a glare.

"Get your phone out."

"I don't--"

"Now!"

"Um," you started to stammer over your words, not understanding what was going on. "Excuse me? I-I don't really want to be recorded--"

"So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?"

You can't have heard that right.

Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

"Don't play dumb." She snapped, her brows furrowed in determination, making you flinch. The accusation unlike any you had ever heard. "Tell us the truth. Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?"

The words hit you like a slap to the face. They didn't sound right. They didn't feel right.

Peter wasn't Spider-Man.

Was he?

And Spider-Man definitely wasn't a murderer.

That you knew for sure.

Did you?

Peter wasn't Spider-Man. He would have told you. And you knew for a fact that Peter wouldn't kill someone. Neither would Spider-Man. And he sure as hell wouldn't have killed another hero.

But that's not what Billie was saying. She was saying that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. That Peter killed Mysterio. Killed Quentin Beck. And that you knew--no. Not knew. Helped him do it.

A hundred things were clawing at your brain, wanting to be spoken all at once. It swarmed in your head, bombarding your thoughts. It was hard, but you managed piece together a single sentence. Albeit choppy. "I don't-- I have no idea what you're talking about." You breathed out shakily.

"It's a simple question: did you, or did you not?" Billie asked again, her voice more insistent this time. The boy fumbled with his phone as she stepped forward, forcing you back.

"No!" You said as firmly as you could, tripping over your feet. If it wasn't for the table you were sitting at to catch you, you would have fallen. "I didn't even-- I didn't even know!" Why couldn't she hear the truth in your voice?

All comfort you found in the library disappeared in an instant. The silence you adored felt deafening. The calm was suffocating.

"How am I supposed to believe you? You're his best friend! Everyone knows that! You had to know something." She spouted the accusations as easily as popping a bubble. "Ryan, are you getting this on camera? Every news outlet is looking for any known associates, and we need this proof!"

"Who- who the hell do you think you are?" You could feel your own voice breaking as you continued to back away until you felt the strap of your bag hanging off the back of the chair you were sitting in. You snatched up the book you were reading and almost missed shoving it in. "I told you I don't want to be recorded! Leave- leave me alone!"

You grabbed your things and ran for the door, but the words continued to follow you.

Spider-Man killed Mysterio?

Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?

You heaved a breath, the feeling of it getting harder and harder to breathe quickly overcoming you.

You didn't understand.

What was going on?

The sunlight seemed too harsh as you nearly fell over yourself outside. You didn't stop though. Not until Billie and Ryan gave up on chasing you. Until you were far away from the library. And only then did you stop only to breath so you wouldn't collapse.

It looked like the world was frozen. Their eyes glued to the nearest screen available. Phones, shop televisions. Any screen on any one of the hundreds of skyscrapers surrounding you.

And they all read the same thing.

London Attack Revelations: Spider-Man responsible for Hero Mysterio's Death

THEDAILYBUGLE.NET EXCLUSIVE: Peter Parker revealed as the murderer behind the mask of the menace known as the 'Spider-Man'

Voices overlapped in your head. The people around you reacting. The different news stations relaying each other. Your own.

But what stood out the most was the shaky video on display directly across the street from you.

You didn't recognize the man, but you recognized the suit. This man was Mysterio. Beck. Beat up with blood on his face and surrounded by broken glass.

And the words came right from him mouth.

"Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!"

You felt your senses dulling around you then. The only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart trying to keep you alive.

So many secrets. So many truths. Too many.

You felt yourself loosing your grip, but no one was there to stop you from falling.

Usually Peter did that.

But Peter wasn't there.

Peter was Spider-Man?

Peter was a murderer?

A loud roar from a gathering crowd was enough to get you moving, even though you felt--well, you didn't know how you felt.

Your feet moved without much thought. Bringing you to the one place where you thought you could be safe. Where you could lock the door and cover your ears and close your eyes and wish it would all go away. That you would wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Your feet moved, and you mindlessly made it back to your empty apartment.

It wasn't home. You home had been taken away from you. The walls were empty. The furniture brand new.

Your hands shook as you locked the door behind you. That's when you lost the sliver of control you had, sliding down against the front of the door in a gasp that let everything flood you.

Tears burned against your skin as they streamed down your face. Tears of confusion. Tears of hurt. Tears of anger. Tears of any reason you could possibly think of.

It was a lot to comprehend at once.

Too much.

A frantic knocking on your door made you flinch and let out a yelp. You scrambled away, barely standing yourself up when you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" It was Peter. "Are you-- are you in there?"

Oh God, it was Peter. Standing on the other side of your apartment door. Sounding the most scared you've ever heard him in his entire life.

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please-please. I can hear you,"

And you could hear just how much he was pleading. How his voice was shaking with every syllable.

"Please let me in. I can-- I don't know what you've heard yet, but I can explain everything. But I really need you to let me in. You're all I have left and I know-- I know it's selfish, but, Y/N, you're my only hope."

You're breathing became heavier and it held like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist.

You couldn't leave him out there.

But in a quick motion, you reached forward and unlocked the door.

Once the locked clicked, the door opened and Peter stepped in faster than you could register, locking the door again behind him. "Y/N, I'm so sorry--"

You backed away from him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't make you leave." You demanded, the words sounding more foreign than a different language as they left your mouth.

Peter's expression was heartbreaking. His hair darker and plastered to his face from sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears already threatening to spill. A look of hurt painted over his face like it was a damaged canvas.

"L-look, I know about everything that they're saying about me out there, and-and I know how it sounds. Y/N, I'm not asking you to like me right now or even trust me until you sort things out because I know this is too much so fast. And I'm so, so sorry. But I'm alone and I'm afraid and all I'm asking is could you please just hold my hand? Even if you can only do it for a little bit?"

Your eyes didn't leave Peter.

They couldn't.

You didn't see Spider-Man as you looked at him. You didn't see someone capable of killing someone in cold blood.

All you saw was the boy who held you when times got rough.

The boy who defended you from bullies even if it meant he would be going home with a black eye.

The boy who stayed up with you all hours of the night when you woke up from a bad dream.

The boy who cared about you more than he cared about himself.

The boy who held your hand through it all.

And here he was. In front of you. Asking you to do the same.

After all, you had promised.

Peter Parker wasn't a murderer. That, you were sure of. The odds could be stacked against him twenty times over and you still wouldn't believe it.

But everyone wasn't like you. The world believed it. And the world was after him.

You looked at the boy. Peter wasn't a murderer, but he was broken. Broken over and over so many times, that he's now unable to put himself back together all alone.

You looked at the boy who held your hand all those years, and was asking the simple thing of you: to hold his back.

You looked at Peter, and all you could see was someone who needed you the way you needed him. The boy who has always needed you the way you needed him.

And now more than ever.

You cleared your mind enough to focus on that one thing. If you had learned anything, is that you needed to take the road to recovery one step at a time. And you already know what the first step was. What you had to do.

You take his hand.

A fractured smile twitched on his lips as he held on tight, heavy with the fear that you might let go. But you already made up your mind, despite what you knew you were going to have to do. Knowing that when the time came, you would have to turn your back on the world. To protect Peter. Because he needed you like you needed him.

"I can do more than that."

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

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radical-revolution · 6 months

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Falling In Love With The Earth

This beautiful, bounteous, life-giving planet we call Earth has given birth to each one of us, and each one of us carries the Earth within every cell of our body.

We and the Earth are one

The Earth is our mother, nourishing and protecting us in every moment–giving us air to breathe, fresh water to drink, food to eat and healing herbs to cure us when we are sick. Every breath we inhale contains our planet’s nitrogen, oxygen, water vapor and trace elements. When we breathe with mindfulness, we can experience our interbeing with the Earth’s delicate atmosphere, with all the plants, and even with the sun, whose light makes possible the miracle of photosynthesis. With every breath we can experience communion. With every breath we can savor the wonders of life.

We need to change our way of thinking and seeing things. We need to realise that the Earth is not just our environment. The Earth is not something outside of us. Breathing with mindfulness and contemplating your body, you realise that you are the Earth. You realise that your consciousness is also the consciousness of the Earth. Look around you–what you see is not your environment, it is you.

Great Mother Earth

Whatever nationality or culture we belong to, whatever religion we follow, whether we’re Buddhists, Christians, Muslims, Jews, or atheists, we can all see that the Earth is not inert matter. She is a great being, who has herself given birth to many other great beings–including buddhas and bodhisattvas, prophets and saints, sons and daughters of God and humankind. The Earth is a loving mother, nurturing and protecting all peoples and all species without discrimination.

When you realize the Earth is so much more than simply your environment, you’ll be moved to protect her in the same way as you would yourself. This is the kind of awareness, the kind of awakening that we need, and the future of the planet depends on whether we’re able to cultivate this insight or not. The Earth and all species on Earth are in real danger. Yet if we can develop a deep relationship with the Earth, we’ll have enough love, strength and awakening in order to change our way of life.

Falling In Love

We can all experience a feeling of deep admiration and love when we see the great harmony, elegance and beauty of the Earth. A simple branch of cherry blossom, the shell of a snail or the wing of a bat – all bear witness to the Earth’s masterful creativity. Every advance in our scientific understanding deepens our admiration and love for this wondrous planet. When we can truly see and understand the Earth, love is born in our hearts. We feel connected. That is the meaning of love: to be at one.

Only when we’ve truly fallen back in love with the Earth will our actions spring from reverence and the insight of our interconnectedness. Yet many of us have become alienated from the Earth. We are lost, isolated and lonely. We work too hard, our lives are too busy, and we are restless and distracted, losing ourselves in consumption. But the Earth is always there for us, offering us everything we need for our nourishment and healing: the miraculous grain of corn, the refreshing stream, the fragrant forest, the majestic snow-capped mountain peak, and the joyful birdsong at dawn.

True Happiness is made of Love

Many of us think we need more money, more power or more status before we can be happy. We’re so busy spending our lives chasing after money, power and status that we ignore all the conditions for happiness already available. At the same time, we lose ourselves in buying and consuming things we don’t need, putting a heavy strain on both our bodies and the planet. Yet much of what we drink, eat, watch, read or listen to, is toxic, polluting our bodies and minds with violence, anger, fear and despair.

As well as the carbon dioxide pollution of our physical environment, we can speak of the spiritual pollution of our human environment: the toxic and destructive atmosphere we’re creating with our way of consuming. We need to consume in such a way that truly sustains our peace and happiness. Only when we’re sustainable as humans will our civilization become sustainable. It is possible to be happy in the here and the now.

We don’t need to consume a lot to be happy; in fact we can live very simply. With mindfulness, any moment can become a happy moment. Savoring one simple breath, taking a moment to stop and contemplate the bright blue sky, or to fully enjoy the presence of a loved one, can be more than enough to make us happy. Each one of us needs to come back to reconnect with ourselves, with our loved ones and with the Earth. It’s not money, power or consuming that can make us happy, but having love and understanding in our heart.

The bread in your hand is the body of the cosmos

We need to consume in such a way that keeps our compassion alive. And yet many of us consume in a way that is very violent. Forests are cut down to raise cattle for beef, or to grow grain for liquor, while millions in the world are dying of starvation. Reducing the amount of meat we eat and alcohol we consume by 50% is a true act of love for ourselves, for the Earth and for one another. Eating with compassion can already help transform the situation our planet is facing, and restore balance to ourselves and the Earth.

Nothing is more important than brotherhood and sisterhood

There’s a revolution that needs to happen and it starts from inside each one of us. We need to wake up and fall in love with Earth. We’ve been homo sapiens for a long time. Now it’s time to become homo conscius. Our love and admiration for the Earth has the power to unite us and remove all boundaries, separation and discrimination. Centuries of individualism and competition have brought about tremendous destruction and alienation. We need to re-establish true communication–true communion–with ourselves, with the Earth, and with one another as children of the same mother. We need more than new technology to protect the planet. We need real community and co-operation.

All civilisations are impermanent and must come to an end one day. But if we continue on our current course, there’s no doubt that our civilisation will be destroyed sooner than we think. The Earth may need millions of years to heal, to retrieve her balance and restore her beauty. She will be able to recover, but we humans and many other species will disappear, until the Earth can generate conditions to bring us forth again in new forms. Once we can accept the impermanence of our civilization with peace, we will be liberated from our fear. Only then will we have the strength, awakening and love we need to bring us together. Cherishing our precious Earth–falling in love with the Earth–is not an obligation. It is a matter of personal and collective happiness and survival. – Thich Nhat Hanh.

Written for Paris Climate Talk in 2015

***

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petitelepus · 1 year

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Definitely peg MTMTE Rung as a linguist so when he picks up a mute and hard of hearing pet, he is fascinated to learn another language from them via sign language

Rung could tell the moment he saw you among the other humans that you were different. While others reacted to sound, you appeared oblivious to any attempt to catch your attention.

"You don't want that one." They said.

"It's deaf and mute." Another said.

But Rung wanted you. You deserved a chance to find a loving home also. So when he made it clear he wanted you, the shopkeepers laughed and told him that he could have you for free. One less mouth for them to feed.

"Hello there." Rung smiled at you, "My name is Rung. Who might you be?"

You frowned as you shook your head and pointed at your ears. Ah, he should have expected that.

The orange mech frowned lightly, wondering if you knew how to write, but then you started to make rapid hand gestures and it threw Rung off.

So you knew sign language! He was so happy that he had studied sign language once, but you appeared to have your own human version.

Rung smiled, giving you thumbs up and you understood that things were well. The psychiatrist took you with him to Lost Light and while you made yourself comfortable, he started to study Earth's sign language.

The first thing he learns is how to ask your name and how to tell you that you were safe and had a new home with him.

When you saw him sign to you, you absolutely beamed in joy and eagerly signed back, telling him your name and asking for his.

Rung was happy to see you smile and asked if you could read and write, and you nodded. That's when he gave you paper and a pencil and asked you to tell him about yourself and what was going on with you.

You explain your condition to him and he nods, understanding and he promises to you that he will become someone you can talk freely to, which makes you happy and trust him more.

Rung learns sign language for you so you can communicate without trouble. Many give the two of you weird looks, but you don't care about them.

The only one you care about is Rung and as long as you had him, you would be happy.

#humans are cute #mtmte #transformers mtmte #transformers #rung #reader #anon #ENJOY!

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nation-of-bros · 7 months

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We are continuing to try to bring you pictures of our world by using our thought focus. You may well be asked in the future ‘How can you receive scenes of a world where there is no physical existence?’ I should like to try to help you to have an understanding of this. When you enter our state, you cannot have a physical body or physical senses. But what you do have, in continuation, is mind. Mind and soul, blended as one. When you daydream or meditate, you can create a scene within your mind. You might see yourself walking through a wonderful natural scene of beauty; a field of poppies, perhaps, such as you have in this land. If you are working well with your mind, you will be able to project yourself into that scene. The better able you are to work with your mind, the more vibrant and real the scene will be to you. When you do not have the physical body to be a vehicle, you still have the mind to project your thoughts and to be a vehicle for your voyage. So you may wonder whether the spiritual world is like a dream state? Well, some may say it is to a certain degree, but to us, you see, it is the true state, it is the real home of the consciousness. When you are in a physical state, part of your mind retains the ability to link with home. It is this part of you with which we can link when you are in the sleep state. Here we can even visit one another. We dwell in a state of consciousness within our world. Our world is more vibrant and real than yours, although it is outside time – it is timeless. Unlike your world, our world does not have limitations. Our world is therefore such a creative place. There are many planes of existence and levels of existence to be with and interact with each other and we are able to create beauty in which to be. For ours is certainly a state of being. We will leave it there. At the moment you do not see much on the films that I can explain. But as things move forward, then it will become clearer.

Generally speaking, most people have a moment of adjustment, a moment of confusion. What has happened to me? As this moment comes, you find yourself in familiar or comfortable surroundings. You are comforted by your loved ones if you wish. This is a very real world to those who dwell in it. There are flowers and fields, etc. We are not able to do it justice in mere language. It is a world of beauty in which you can live for many, many earth years. Time is not a reality, so there is no hurry! Those you love may feel very happy with this existence, but if, for example, you pass over with a greater spiritual understanding, then it may be possible that you help them and together you may explore other areas of existence and go forward. It depends a lot on your needs, the life you have led and your spiritual self.

[Statement from one of the “spirit scientists” during the Scole experiment]

—

The world is 6-dimensional

Our space-time, the three space coordinates and time as the 4th axis form physical space, our material world in which everything is subject to entropy and thus perishes sooner or later. In addition, there are two other axes that together form the "trans realm": The 5th dimension reflects qualitative properties, ultimately the structures of our reality, while the 6th axis describes the changes in how those patterns of the 5th dimension intertwine and flow to pursue certain maxims; one could view this as evolution in the abstract sense, a kind of purely qualitative timeline.

In the trans realm, neither space nor time as we know it exists, since there is simply no matter that could condition space and time. It is a purely intangible state that nevertheless exists. Religions refer to this as God or Nirvana, the Aborigines as dreamtime, which, by the way, comes closest to the truth; yes, it is amazing that a non-technological primitive people understood reality better than we do! I myself was only able to understand these things through the 6-dimensional model of the world by the German physicist Burkhard Heim, and even this is just a model, a highly simplified representation of reality.

Physics of the Afterlife

Nevertheless, Heim's physics provides many details and even a scientific model of death, how our consciousness detaches itself from the body and "ascends" on the 5th axis in order to continue to exist exclusively in transcendence and, if desired, to reincarnate again. Heim also described possible problems that may arise, and alternative physical spaces where the deceased can stay in order to heal by processing residuals in peace.

Residues are the remnants of one's own personality that are still interwoven with the lower transplanes of the 5th dimension that are linked to space-time and prevent an ascent into transcendence, similar to a block on the leg. This happens especially with particularly unhappy and traumatized or fanatic deceased people, who in some cases cling to living close people, which can have undesirable or even frightening apparitions, but are more likely to be understood as a cry for help.

Personal Goal Setting

For this reason, I am not keen on unnecessarily burdening myself with war and such shit making my ascension more difficult, or even drawing me into an unconscious reincarnation spiral by negative energies that will affect me over and over again to reborn into the same crappy environment.

That's why I don't feel like sugarcoating things here and enduring unnecessary suffering, especially not for this already broken world. I had this thought when I recently saw a report about vaccine victims in the USA, where many women saw their terrible physical suffering as an “experience” in order to “grow from it”. It really seems as if they subconsciously wanted to become ill and chose this fate themselves. I know that's fucked up. This idea of how they also positify their role as victims disgusted me deeply.

I think my consciousness has long since left this self-flagellation phase many lifetimes behinds! My reincarnation is too good for that. No, I'm just an observer who wants to become a creator shaping things according to my own wishes!

#essay #reincarnation #rebirth

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 2 years

Text

Wraith

Ectoberhaunt, 2022, Day 5, ao3

“Hey Frostbite, I have a question.”

Frostbite looked up from his tablet and smiled at Danny in that weird way that a horned bear’s face warped to match up human expressions.

“I’d be happy to answer, Great One! What is it on your mind?”

Danny floated on his stomach to be eye level with his yeti friend and rolled the question over in his head one more time.

“It only just hit me that with all the advanced technology you have you’ve gotta have all kinds of scientists, and I’m wondering: is there an official taxonomy of ghosts? Ectological taxonomy? That’s what it’s called when you categorize things in a similar group, right?”

“In laymen’s terms, yes. While most categorizations of ghosts are based upon cultures, which vary wildly from region to region, planet to planet and universe to universe-“

“Wait what?”

“There are three broad categories of ghosts that are universally accepted for a broad necrological taxonomy. There are the Dead, like yourself, who were once living beings in other universes that are built upon typically baryonic matter.”

“Ok, yeah, that’s kind of what I expect a ghost to be.”

“Then there are the Deathless, like myself, who were born when one or more ghosts produced offspring that was born a ghost.”

“Ok, thanks to Clockwork I knew that ghosts could have kids but I never really thought about that cause I don’t wanna think about the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady together. How does just one ghost have a kid on their own, though? Wouldn’t that be a clone?”

Frostbite chuckled and shook his head, giving Danny a pat on the head.

“I might answer that once I am done, Great One. Finally, there are the Neverborn, who spontaneously manifested within the Infinite Realms with no prior existence nor a parent, save the Liminal Realm itself.”

“What, like Clockwork or Vortex or Undergrowth?”

“It is possible that Undergrowth is actually the collective consciousness of dead flora and fungi on Earth but barring that explanation yes.”

“Ok, so… how would you describe me in your uh necro taxonomy system?”

“Ah, trying to understand where you fit? That is understandable.”

Frostbite ruffled Danny’s hair and pulled him into a one armed literal bearhug and Danny felt a little lighter, even when he had been floating.

“I would say that you are a dead liminal wraith, in strictly scientific terms, though liminally deceased wraith sounds better syntax wise.”

Danny elongated his neck to get a better look at Frostbite’s face, relaxing into the hug. Frostbite was soft, sue him.

“Liminal wraith?”

“Wraiths are guardian spirits, you see, and you have assigned yourself guardian of Amity Park, have you not?”

“I guess I have, yeah. What’s a liminal?”

Frostbite blinked several times and held Danny out by the shoulders.

“Great one… has no one told you what you are? Liminals are rare, yes, but hybrids of baryonic and ectoplasmic matter are not unheard of. You are both living and dead, physical and metaphysical. Based on the readings I’ve gotten from your core when you visit for a check up, you are the World Bridge for your universe and the Infinite Realm. Has no other ghost told you this?”

“Most ghosts just call me ghost kid, and Sydney called me a halfa… there’s an actual word for this?”

“Halfa sounds like a derogatory term, Great One. But yes! There have been many liminal spirits! Our records show that the most common conditions for a first generation Liminal dead is electrocution while surrounded by ectoplasm, though most liminals were simply the offspring of ghosts and mortals.”

“Did you know any liminals before me?”

“Why yes! If you’d like, I can tell you about them.”

#danny phantom #Rexy Writes #ectoberhaunt22 #ectober haunt 2022 #eh chaos #day 5 #Wraith

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lgist · 2 years

Text

Trying to forget, what has been remembered.

Surface level, plunge deeper and deeper, you will try. Attempts upon attempts, spinning the slot machine. Retrying and reiterating, striving in silence. Thoughts and emotion be damned, rationality and spirituality do not exist here, this is a task that needs completion. As if compelled, obliged, to compete with yourself. Persisting, walking through glass, for a percentage increase. Perfection breaches the possibilities reality bestows. An unreachable goal within an imaginary grasp, inching further and further away, the moon’s everlasting shine. Profound we seem, the lake only reaches our ankle, how we yearn to dive. Yet there are moments, as we listen to the telephone ring, in suspense. As we sit idly, time slowing down, for them to arrive. Wishing for more time, begging for those few extra seconds. So many things to do, so much more to accomplish, yet they can make you forget what is forever in memory. They, those who hold this interconnected power over you. Who’s powers deny ego, who’s presence commands fulfillment. Accomplishments left hanging, drying in the sweat and tears it took to achieve them. As you prepare for embrace, for never-ending happiness. This medication, this prowess, this feeling, how it can span borders, as if the Earth is squeezed by its clutch. Perhaps the entire universe can feel it, its pulse. Swamped beneath the corporate pressures, lungs clogged with smog, arteries filled with grease, identities lost within a forest of ambiguity, how this power can forget what is remembered. How it can exist within the spiteful, within the hateful, within the powerful? Those who have abused this power, taken from it for what it is worth. We scream, oh the humanity, at the inhuman, at the aliens that lead us to our tragedy. We spectate upon their deceitfulness, their lies, the robbery of intelligence. We grow dull with sharpened exteriors, snipping away aspects of life like it is an arts and crafts project, what we deem as excess is not power, it is not money, it is hope, it is empathy. Working, forever working, for working, here, cannot exist within excess. Addicted to emptiness, hollow before the mortician pierces our skin. We have forgotten what has been remembered, we have left the idea of intrinsic power at the hospital as we prepare for our psychologically global journey with the airline; self-actualisation, we then wonder how we barley survived the crash. For intrinsically, from birth we hold this. We hold potential for empathy, for caring. We hold potential to grasp what exists within reality’s reach, warmth. I must have this by then, I must have that by then. We consistently set ourselves up, as if undercover police, investigating our own insecurities, it is a cold case, we do not have enough evidence to prosecute ourselves. So we continue with this excruciating limbo, pondering at our own condition. Paralyzed, from the neck down. Our heads, a trainwreck, tired. Yawning at the thought of another morning.

Yet when we find them, we can feel our toes wiggle again. We can feel our excitement for the next morning as we can see them once again. We can have a moment of relief as we can finally live for more than a dull purpose. Safety, paramount, for an unsafe present dictates. It chooses for you, denies opportunity. It is fight or flight and without them, we don’t stand a chance. So we run, we run, we keep running, until paths align. A safe space presents itself to you. A tailor made refuge for the lonely, we do not walk out lonely again. We can walk out, two hearts as one, arms swinging at the prospects and expectations of life. For expectation dwells in concept, it is never concrete. It is will rise and rise, an endless building with endless floors, an elevator that has every button pressed, like some elaborate joke we play on ourselves. Until we reach this floor, this floor of which they breathe, of which they stand at the other side of the doors, inviting you inside. Suddenly, this floor seems perfect. Suddenly, this floor has reached our expectations. Suddenly, you need not an inch of the floor to change. For it has filled the hole, the empty puzzle piece of you. No longer your lungs feel wheezy, No longer can you be crushed by ambition, No longer can expectation dictate your direction.

Except, we can not live without imperfection, expectation is well aware of this. When this floor shows its cracks, its vulnerabilities. When its structure is about to collapse, we dread having to say goodbye. So we stay, we long to renovate with no budget. Striving to reach an imaginary grasp, yet again. How everything in life can be a limbo, always trying to forget what has been remembered. Struggling to hold it together with nothing but a bottle of glue. Our safe space has been corroded, we have been plucked from it’s protection. Yet again, we run, we run, we keep running. We board the endless elevator again and when another floor presents itself, the fear of collapse drives us into a permanent state of flight. For we have seen what fighting achieves. War within our minds, casualties guaranteed. Now, everything is grey, gone is the colour. Medicate into numbness, for feeling is too great a toll. We compromise with ourselves, as long as I have this, Ill be happy. To be content is to be amply stimulated, we live in a world of stimulation and we are still not content. Such is the reason we keep running, for not even the perfect floor can hold our weight. Blame and shame, grief defined, trama induced. We walk again across the wet concrete, across the broken glass, staring ourselves in the eyes with complete fear. We can only see the hand that has kidnapped us from content, the arm it’s attached to is always blurry. We cannot see that far ahead, in our short-sighted futures. If we looked farther, we can see it is us. It is I, it is you, it is her, it is him, it is them. Stuck in our elevators, fearful to enter again without the prospects and expectation of a perfect ____ .

______________

Delving deep into the abstract, wanted to make it a challenge. It’s not perfect, wouldn’t you say so? Much Love - S

#writers on tumblr #writing #Writers and Poets #Writerscommunity #writer #philosophy #leftism #leftist #politics #political #marxism #marxist #communism #communist #positivity #mental health #mental illness #philosphical

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whumptimebaby · 2 years

Text

4*Town Les Mis AU - Part 1 - The Confrontation

| Character Death | 1/5 | Angst | 09/12/2022 (MM/DD/YYYY)

CW: Character Death (Minor to the story but Major in that it’s a member of 4*Town), Police/Convict Dynamic, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Hospitals, Poverty

Aaron Zazou does not understand why he is so pulled to find and arrest runaway convict Robaire Fournier, though, there are many things he doesn’t understand about the thief.

What he does know is that his mind has completely swarmed by him. He can only hope that putting Fournier behind bars will quell the questions that man makes him ask himself, and erase the images he sees when he lays to sleep.

ORIGINAL POST

Full Fic Below Cut

Aaron Zazou was a man of the law, painted from the moment he was born a portrait of order and good. His values were as easy to understand as the code he was instructed to follow. He who breaks the law is damned. He who breaks the law is vile.

Robaire Fournier, prisoner 04264, was therefore scarred by the bread he’d stolen. No good could come from a man who is damned. No good could come from a man who is vile.

His thoughts were better placed elsewhere, Aaron knew, than the man who’d evaded him so long ago. In the time it had taken to get to the present day, he’d only stopped once to think about how foolish it must’ve seemed, leaving his position as a prison guard to chase a convict who broke parole. He had no intention of finding in himself the reason he refused to acknowledge that prisoner 04264 had most likely succumbed to the poor living conditions gifted upon the scum of the Earth.

He’d been right, after all. 04264 was alive, and he was a mere few strides away.

The hospital was dark, covered by the night’s thick coat. A few candles flickered, revealing no shadows worth fussing over. The air smelled of the sick, of grime and death. Aaron figured few of the people who fell ill here would ever recover.

04264 was cloaked, holding the hand of a man so pale Aaron could hardly recognize him. Their earlier confrontation still rang like an unwanted whistle in his ears, taunting his ignorance.

One of the candles was perfectly placed to light the convict’s face with its warm, orange glow. He spoke softly to the man, a deep-set sadness clear in the dew on his cheeks. Aaron recognized the guilt, and wondered how much 04264 really knew of the fate he would receive. He who breaks the law is damned. He who breaks the law is vile.

Something changed in the convict's posture. His shoulders lowered, and his eyes shut.

“Zazou.” His voice was deep, sickeningly tender as he called without looking.

Aaron stepped out of the darkness. “Fournier.”

“I don’t know you as a man who would allow death to stop you from enforcing the law.”

“Every man deserves his last moments of peace.”

The convict rose, still watching the bed. “Even me?”

“You have years to serve before I can allow you to die.”

He scoffed. “And what of those who die in your prison? What peace are they allowed?”

“Deservance is a right you do not have while serving.”

Curious enough to finally make eye contact, 04264’s eyes traced the outline of Aaron’s frame, holding enough care to make him shiver. “You contradict yourself.”

“Don’t play games with me, Fournier. See me plain, as I’ve always seen you.”

“You do not see me any more than you know your own beliefs.”

“What nonsense has eaten you? My beliefs are clear.”

He found the audacity to laugh. “If what you say is true, how is this man different from me? Was Jesse not being questioned by you?”

“There was no time for a formal arrest. Nothing more to it.”

If there was any doubt, he shoved it down fast enough to pretend it never manifested. He’d been ordered to stand down by the mayor, and now that said ruse was discovered, he'd been spending his time searching for Robaire Fournier, to make the arrest he’d been waiting years to make.

There was no time to arrest the other criminal. Let him have his peace.

04264 tilted his head, examining him closely. His prodding bore pity, one that Aaron couldn't understand. Anger boiled.

“You may have fled the courthouse, but you will not evade nor deceive me again. You’ll return to the prison.”

Robaire’s sweet voice curled around his name. “Aaron.”

“You are under arrest. Do not speak so informally.”

“This man has a son. You do not owe it to me, but his child is suffering. I need but three days. I promise I’ll return to you.”

To you.

“You will never change.” He advanced. “Using a child to escape your rightful jail time.”

His eyes hardened. “I stole a loaf of bread.”

“You broke parole.”

“That parole would have killed me.”

They held eye contact, more intense than the argument allowed for. “I am doing nothing but my duty.”

“And I commend you for it, for your drive to maintain justice, but what justice is it to allow an innocent child to suffer?”

“Don’t you talk of justice.”

“You know nothing of the world. I have only done what is necessary.”

Aaron’s cheeks tightened. “And what if your theft had been lethal? A loaf of bread is hardly just a loaf of bread. What if you’d killed that vendor in your selfish act?”

Fournier rose to his feet, adjusting his jacket. He strode to the door, the gait of his walk hardly showing the same, careful tentativeness of his face.

Aaron Zazou grabbed hold of his arm as he passed, his gaze not leaving the spot Robaire had been sitting moments before. “I wish you hadn’t.”

It was a confession, drawn from him without his consent. He couldn’t be certain of what part of him it had come from, the beat of his chest, the heat of his cheeks, or the fog of his brain.

“Let me help this boy.” Fournier spoke barely above a whisper. “It is my fault his father died.”

Hardly. When he’d been called to make the arrest, the man was practically a corpse, but the guilt? He could understand that. It pained him as though it was his own, that Robaire could be feeling the anguish of unpaid debts.

He would not offer him comfort, though. He had a duty he was sworn to do.

Yet, when Robaire Fournier pulled himself away, and left the hospital, Aaron Zazou could not find it in himself to move.

Alone in the dark hospital, lit by the flickering candle and surrounded by death and illness, the first part of himself was laid to rest.

#so this is... very experimental for me #if you know my writing you'll know this is not my usual style... at all LMAO #and i genuinely can't decide if i hate it or not #nor can i tell if this has any romantic tension AT ALL #I DONT KNOW YALL #anyways ahahhaaaaaa #this is my little self indulgent au number 2 #les town #4town #4 town #4*town

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majorxmaggiexboy · 2 years

Text

&& like the orphans we are || some Terror Tomfoolery (1/?)

centric character: Frauncis Crozier relationships: Crozier & Jopson vibe: crack, essentially content warnings: handwaved magic, de-aged characters, panicked captains bringing their habits (of addressing people by surname) to involuntary parenthood, enthusiastic child labor, complete lack of actual effort or plot, summary less indicative of content than the so-called warning section, no regard for canon timeline, God Damn It as a substitute for the profanity Crozier would actually be using, Weird Victorian Child, Blatant Hodgeson erasure Summary: In which Captain Crozier would give anything, anything to be going through withdrawals right now.

~*~

On top of every damn thing else, naturally, the sky explodes.

It’s such a violent outburst of colors, accompanied by a sound like the earth itself bursting apart, it sends as many men scurrying for cover as it holds wide-eyed and transfixed upon the deck.

The display is over in a matter of minutes. The crew is split for a few hours between skittish and sheepish, but in the end it’s just one more strange occurrence among many, and as no one was killed, it’s quickly forgotten.

~*~

Francis wakes to find Jopson struggling with the curtains, yanking on the poor drapes as though his life depends on it.

The captain’s first thought is that, thank God, the year is only 1839 and he has just woken from the longest, coldest, bloodiest dream of his life. His second thought is that he could have sworn his steward, who is now standing stock-still and staring at him in a way eerily reminiscent of a cat with lamp light caught in its eyes, was considerably taller last he was aware.

Jopson goes back to fighting with the curtains. The way the panel is drawn rapidly back and forth, the weak beam of sun falls along Crozier’s bed and disappears, falls and vanishes, falls and vanishes. Until with a furtive glance in his direction Jopson gives up trying to slide the curtains open properly and instead tucks the offending panel behind the table to hold it open.

It is when Jopson reconsiders and climbs onto the table to reach the curtain rod that Francis begins to suspect both that the year is not 1839 and that he is about to be very much alarmed.

~*~

Francis is very much alarmed, and cannot for the life of him understand why Jopson does not seem to be.

His shining moment of hope that he’s actually still in the midst of withdrawals and this is the latest torment his mind has concocted for him gets dimmer and dimmer with every passing moment, and Jopson looks moderately concerned at most.

Crozier sighs. Where the hell to begin.

He starts with the obvious.

“Jopson- - -”

His....inexplicably tiny and unruffled steward brightens.

“Captain!”

Oh god.

It occurs to him that perhaps Jopson is his normal height, and has his normal voice, and that he, Crozier, has simply gone mad at last. Wouldn’t that just match the rest of his life record. Still, Jopson is staring again, and he ought to be sure.

“Jopson,” he says again, carefully, “Are you...well?”

Jopson blinks. Tilts his head like a goddamn sparrow, stray hair flopping over his eyes. The fact that, by all appearances, he is currently stood on a chair awkwardly attempting to help Francis with his coat is not doing wonders for Crozier’s investigation into his own sanity.

He decides to elaborate. “You’re not feeling...ill, then? Not feeling-” about a meter high or so “- - - Different, today?”

Jopson hesitates.

God. Damn it.

~*~

“Is there a reason,” Francis finally settles on asking, “Any reason at all, that upon finding yourself in this....condition....you decided the most appropriate course of action would be to resume your duties as normal instead of...?”

Instead of a rational response, such as running to Dr. McDonald, screaming, crying, alerting someone.

To his credit, Jopson seems to genuinely consider for a moment, staring intently at a spot just past Crozier’s right shoulder. Then he’s staring into the tumultuous depths of his soul again with the faintest hint of a shrug.

“Nothing for it,” the boy (god, once again, damn it) replies. He then grins like the devil in a way Crozier has only ever seen once or twice before (like when he was so triumphantly confessing to his part in that ridiculous scheme he and the Lieutenants had cooked up for Edward’s birthday last month) “It’s not as if I can go home, sir.”

~*~

“Doctor Mcdonald!” Crozier shouts before he even reaches the door. Even with the current state of emergency, he gives it three courteous knocks and a quick glance shows him the still only slightly nonplussed miniature steward tucked under his other arm attempting to do the same.

The door opens, but only enough for the uncharacteristically flustered Doctor McDonald to peer out.

Crozier briefly considers dropping Jopson and walking back the way he came.

The defeated look on McDonald’s face as he glances between the two of them persuades him otherwise.

The poor bastard regards Jopson warmly, if tiredly, and manages a wobbly smile for Francis.

“Captain,” he says by way of greeting, and then lies through his teeth, “I was just about to send for you.”

He steps back, allowing the door to open and gesturing for Crozier- and Jopson, no longer being held like a bony little sack of flour but instead trotting along at the captain’s side and holding Francis’ coat sleeve like a prized possession -to follow.

And damn it all to hell if two distinctly too-small but unmistakable lieutenants and a capuchin don’t turn to stare.

#alternate title ''are we parents francis?''#yes you are.#the terror amc

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feral-radfem · 2 years

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What do you think about edgy "last woman on earth kills all the men bc they wanna control her" scenarios? I kinda vibe with them, but I have some weird feeling I really can't place, so I wonder if you have any takes

I have never heard of those scenarios but that, while I get wanting the female power fantasy, is kind of stupid.

A single woman against even just four grown men has a very low likelihood of coming out of that fight successfully. Even if she has special training, she is still outnumbered/overpowered as the only woman left.with no allies male or otherwise.

Also how would she rest? She has no one to watch her back. Yeah it sounds like people who create this scenario do so with the idea that humans are not social creatures and depend on one another to stay alive. It's hard to survive by yourself especially if you're picking a fight with every other living member of humanity left. I mean, the men would group together. Like the only way that this wouldn't realistically turn into a gangrape male fantasy was if this last woman was comparable to the abrahamic god. All knowing and untouchable. Gods forbid she gets old or sick because the end of the world doesn't just last two weeks, theyre a forever ongoing issue now. She would have to survive forever fighting all men.

To me that's not interesting story because it holds no perception of women's actual abilities to survive harsh conditions but rather having to raise her to it godlike state because that is the only way you can win in a situation like that. It's on par to male fantasies of power where you can solve everything with your brute strength alone (which also usually raise males to a god-like standard of unbeatableness). Primitive, it doesn't take into consideration what women actually are better at men than. Instead you have this one woman who somehow outdoes all remaining men in the thing that men are biologically better at (brute strength and speed, rather than endurance which women on average are better at).

Women due to the advantages and the disadvantages we have compared to men it would be better if it was a isolated cases rather than the end of the world. A group of people of maybe 50-100 people max in a survival situation where there's only one woman and she can use the nature around her, has a limited number of people to have to attack, and a time in which this trial ends, would be much more interesting, because it's requires less suspension of belief from its audience. However, one against 3.5 billion or however many left at the end of the world is just setting up for men's most horrid fantasies. All it takes is one mistake when all you have to depend on as yourself.

There is no happily ever after because one person cannot kill the rest of humanity and finish living out her fulfilling life. Not if she's still human and has all the limitations/needs that humans have. Best case scenario she kills a few of them and then kills herself before the others get their hands on her, which is what I'd do in that situation honestly.

I've never heard of the scenario and I love female power trip media but I hate it, sorry.

#lily responds #you probably didn't want this much information but this seems like a very stupid scenario to me #and I have plenty of violent killing male fantasies #but even those today moderately realistic and somewhat reachable

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