#you cannot see him he's a tiny ant

[izvmimi]

cw: this is selfship-coded. reader has a job and is on call for it. reader and izuku are married with kids. cocomelon exists in this universe.

being on call for work can sometimes be the bane of your existence. while you now have the luxury of home call more often than not these days, and the calls are fewer and further between, every so often there's an emergency, and you find yourself zipping through your home to find your keys and wallet and stuff them into your purse before jumping into your car to drive straight to the hospital.

tonight, izuku is home with you, and his attention shifts from the television where he's holding your baby son in his lap and helping him sing along to cocomelon to you. you murmur something out loud but at low volume about not being able to find your work id badge and without moving, izuku scans the room and spots it hanging off of the chair of the dining room table. he quickly uses blackwhip to get to it without moving.

"got it right here, baby," he offers, cheerful to be helping.

your eyes light up as you see it and then you rush over to meet where he dangles it in the air, but as you do so, your keys not completely shoved into your hospital scrubs end up falling out of your pocket. you bend over to pick it up but he gets to that before you too; however before he hands it to you, he pulls the tendril of energy back towards him and inspects it carefully.

"wait, what's this?"

squinting, you can tell he's looking at your newest addition to your key ring, and you already can guess he's about to start commenting.

"is that... a tiny knife?" he asks, in genuine surprise. incredulous, he looks at you, and you reply with a small scoff.

"it's for self defense!" you find yourself already slighted. izuku looks at you and furrows his eyebrows, then tilts his head gently to the side.

"... this knife is literally the size of my thumb, honey."

"yeah, but it's stealthy!"

izuku's lips press into a thin line, in the way you can tell he cannot believe you're being serious with him right now.

"and it's useless? what are you defending yourself against with this? ants?"

he adjusts your son to tuck him in his other arm, who also now looks at you with bright green confused eyes as though he is already siding with your husband. a traitor sucking his thumb. izuku places the knife in his palm for scale.

"this is so useless," he repeats to himself, appalled. your face warms.

"izuku, stop judging me."

he sighs.

"i'm not judging you, i just am trying to understand what a tiny knife will do to protect you."

"it's a weapon!" you defend yourself, furrowing your eyebrows.

"why do you need weapons when you have me?" izuku replies, and you're flummoxed by how confident he is.

"you are not there 24/7."

"i could be," he repeats. you exhale loudly through your nostrils, tired of the nonsense.

"midoriya, give me my keys."

he does hand you the keys, but now he's up and following you.

"who's making you feel unsafe? tell me. you don't need a tiny knife, baby, just talk to me."

he attempts to make you talk in that annoying persistent way of his, up until he's outside of your car window knocking with a pout on his face, then waving goodbye.

you roll down your windows and give him an exasperated look.

"maybe i thought it was cute. i feel very safe, and especially so because of you, okay?" you give in. he smiles, and you lean in and kiss him and your son both, and he grins.

although there's a very good chance your anxious, sweet, protective husband will be calling you more than once tonight, just in case your tiny knife isn't enough.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: bnha #mimidoriya

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 2

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: Kamala helps you as you begin your journey to recovery.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 792

Like A Summer Day, She Could Push The Night So Far Away

Kamala walks you into the living quarters and you stop by the kitchen to rummage inside the fridge, she takes the opportunity to pop by Fury’s office and persuade him to let her go through with her half thought out plan.

After you finish eating the girl takes you upstairs and pauses in front of one of the many identical doors, "This will be your room while you, uh-"

"While my brain gets fixed, got it." You decide you might as well just go with it. You walk inside and try to get comfortable, Kamala says her goodbyes and tells you she’ll be back tomorrow.

Later that night Kamala calls Carol after not finding her anywhere in the compound, she tells her the plan and The Captain reluctantly agrees, still overwhelmed with guilt and heartbreak, on one condition: She cannot tell you about your relationship with Carol.

For the remainder of the week you stay on strict bed rest on doctor's orders. Kamala comes by every day and talks to you about current events and pop culture which, even before the injury, you weren't very good at keeping up with. She makes sure you eat and drink enough liquids and even tries to sneak in little details about your former life to see if you'll remember.

It is the first day after your mandated bed rest is over and Kamala comes back as promised, "How are you liking your room?"

"It’s fine."

"They'll bring all your stuff back from your former residence soon."

"Where was that?"

"You were doing a lot of intergalactic work so you were living in a spaceship," she says, trying to find the most objective way to describe it.

"That sounds awful."

"Well, according to your most recent reports you were really enjoying it."

"You have my reports? Can I read them?"

"They are being held in hopes they might contain information about the ambush." Her words are only half true as you weren't exactly subtle when writing about Carol.

The girl walks you to a conference room to have some privacy and hopefully get started on your recovery. She pulls out her S.A.B.E.R. tablet, "Do you know where we are?"

"The Avengers compound," you answer plainly.

"What do you know about them?" She starts making annotations.

"The Avengers? They're a bunch of stuck up assholes with a hero complex who think they're so special because they can shoot lasers out of some part of their body."

"Right," Kamala exhales heavily, "Do you remember any of them?"

"Uh, let's see, there's Stark, paying his way to the top, there's grandpa America-"

"Captain America," she writes down.

"Big green guy,"

"The hulk."

"Red witchy witch,"

"Scarlet Witch."

"The guy with the arrows, how did he even get in?"

"Hawkeye."

"Oh and tiny bug-man."

"Ant-man. Anyone else?"

"I think that's about it."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to talk to any of them, see if they can help bring some memories back?"

"You suppose right."

"What about someone else? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Defenders?" she starts to wonder out loud.

"Defenders? Jones?" You let out a small chuckle.

"Yes! Do you know her?" Her eyes light up.

"No," you let her down, "but even if I did, she doesn't seem like the kind of person who likes to talk."

"I guess you're right." She begins to mindlessly scroll through her clear tablet hoping to find an answer when you see a familiar face.

"Rambeau. I'll talk to her if she's around."

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out, "Captain Rambeau is unavailable at the moment," she says, carefully choosing her words.

"I can wait," you respond, really trying to be helpful.

"Indefinitely." Her harsh tone tells you this is a conversation for another day.

After a moment she continues with the interrogation, "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Paris," you answer with certainty. Kamala searches on the device, "You're scrolling back an alarming amount, how long ago was Paris?"

"Many years ago," she responds in a quiet voice, a feeling of discouragement taking over you. She begins to read aloud, "Let's see, Paris. Mission to retrieve stolen files. Success. Black Widow." She looks at you when she gets to the last part.

"Yelena," you say, almost like an afterthought.

She gives you a perplexed look, "Natasha."

You accept her correction, "Romanoff."

"You remember her?" You nod in response, "Will you talk to her?" she follows expectantly.

"Absolutely not." Kamala scoffs, "I barely knew her, that's the only mission I ever went on with her. I didn't even live here with them, I had my own home in Louisiana." Your last words peak her interest and she discreetly writes them down.

Tell me all your thoughts!

Tags: @graniairish

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

Chapter 3

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

[alyshiba]

Lilagon hen zaldrizoti

Prequel: the bethrotal

Read on Ao3

Summary: AU where Visenya, Rhaenyra's only daughter lives and is born as her eldest child. To all of Westeros she is seen as the only trueborn child of Ser Leanor and Rhaenyra, but in truth her father happens to be Deamon.

Author's note: Well, I feel bad for chapter 8, so I thought of treating yall with a Christsmas gift. This is a prequel to the main fic, set in episode 8. It will be devided in 2 parts, the other will be posted tomorrow. Consider it your Christmas Targryen dinner <3 Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, Happy Hannukah (hope I wrote it correctly) to those who are celebrating it, and idk, enjoy this period of the year to those who do not celebrate anything, or who celebrate other things instead <3 Edit: This was alway supposed to be a one shot, I got cocky, thinking that I might turn it into a two, or three, chapters thing. Turns out I couldn't. So I'll repost the whole thing at it was meant to be originally.

Warning: violence and smut. This is your Chrismas smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

When her family reached the main gate of the Red Keep she was still up in the air with Balerion. Her mother had traveled by ship, for her pregnancy prevented her from riding Syrax, and her siblings had elected to be with her, not to leave her alone. Still, Balerion was too much of a symbol of Targaryen legitimacy to be left on Dragonstone, so she and her father had decided to travel together on dragonback. The journey was quick, and easy, it was not what left a bad taste in her mouth, a sense of annoyance in her guts. She had told Daemon that landing outside the pit was not going to be a good idea, that unlike Caraxes, who was used to being occasionally housed in that wretched structure, Baleion hated it. With a passion. So when they landed, and one of the keepers foolishly waved his staff to convince her black mount to try and fit in the keep, her dragon just squished him under his paw. He looked at him, and if he had brows he would raise one in mock of the ant screaming at him, and just stomp his giant paw on the fool’s body.

She pitied the other keepers who had to scrap his remains out of the ground.

Daemon laughed, while conducting himself the Red Wyrm inside the pit, while she had to make up excuses. You stand too close, she had said, he cannot see you, you have to mind his size, and not run under his paws. And ultimately decided to mount back again in the saddle and take off, as a precaution, since she could clearly sense Balerion’s growing anger. All directed towards the place he had been chained to by Jahaerys for years, after his last rider’s horrible death. 

When she felt Balerion calm down enough she bid him to find a place to land, somewhere he liked to nest. There must have been a place for him, somewhere Aegon, and Maegor after him, thought when planning the construction of the Red Keep. It appeared such a place was a sandy beach, just outside the walls of the Keep. There was a small path leading down to shore, a lot of steps, and above it a small wooden door. A passage, likely an escape tunnel, that probably led inside the keep.

The dark, tiny stone corridor led in the training yard. She heard it before she even saw it. She heard the clanging of swords, the occasional applause to a fight well fought. 

She reached the yard to see not as many people as she expected to, the Kingsguard were there, some Lords, eager to see the princes, and her brothers, Jace and Luke, wandering towards the weapons stack. &lt;<Nobody would question your place as heir to Driftmark, if we looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon and less..>> Luke paused, lowering his voice, <<like ser Harwin Strong>>. Her heart stopped for a second, in pain for her brothers. Where she wore the silver lock and purple eyes of house Targaryen, symbolizing her status as trueborn daughter of Ser Laenor, even if few knew better, her brothers bore the dark hair and dark eyes of their true father. Many times it was argued that it came from the Baratheon blood in them, from their grandmother Rhaenys, but everyone seemed to know. 

&lt;<You are a dragon>> She said to her brothers both, <<and dragons do not worry themself over the opinion of lesser creatures>> Jace agreed with her, patting the younger brother on the shoulder. <<You weren’t with Daemon>> He questioned, looking at her with a half grin, <<I heard of accidents, and men squished like bugs>> Jace laughed. Luke was horrified. Visenya huffed, and turned away towards the sounds of broken wood and fighting. A small crowd gathered in one corner of the yard, circling what surely must have been an interesting fight. Jace patted them both on the shoulders and bid his siblings to follow him in that direction. It took her a glimpse of long, straight silver hair for her to understand that perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea after all.

When they reached their destination she saw Criston Cole, the arrogant, smug Kingsguard she now knew to be the Queen’s sworn shield, swinging his morningstar at Aemond. Man had he grown. She remembered a time where he was maybe half his current stature, a timid boy picked on by the others. She admired him more than the fight, he was tall, and judging by the fact that he didn’t finch or fall when Cole’s morningstar hit his shield he must be strong. Very much so. She admired how fluidly his body moved, how his muscles flexed with deadly precision. How he was able to avoid the morningstar, shield now discarded and forgotten, so quickly, even with his injury. Aemond quickly spun, now facing them and Criston, so she could appreciate his defined lineaments, his sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and the large scar that graced one entire side of his face. He wore an eyepatch over the yee she knew he lost. She wondered if the eye was still there, or if it had been carved out. She wondered what it looked like, under the patch, was there a hole? Could she see the insides of his head ? Or has his eyelids been kept sewn shut ?

With the corner of her eye she saw how her brothers looked worried. It was no secret the hatred that Aemond bore towards them, Luke specifically. And seeing how deadly and skilled he had become, despite his injury, because of it, she realized. It was because he lacked half of his vision that he had to become so skilled with the sword, so better than anyone else. She could understand her brothers’ uneasiness. But she couldn’t help the throb in her core, the warmth that took a hold of that spot between her legs. The urge to press her thighs together to apply some pressure. She needed to go back to her chambers.

Cole looked tired, swinging his morningstar required a lot of strength, and Aemond was clever enough to let him do it, over and over again, until the knight was too exhausted to lucidly parry the young Prince’s attacks. It took Aemond one spin and one blow to be able to raise his sword to Cole’s neck. For a second she wished he would push the blade in the knight’s throat, see his blood being spilled. 

She applauded the display alongside the other people gathered, her eyes trained on the one eyed Prince, &lt;<well done my Prince>> said the Kingsguard between heavy breaths, <<you’ll win tourneys in no time>> but it was not on Cole that Aemond’s attention was anymore. She saw his eye finding her brothers first, <<I don’t give a shit about tourneys>> he said. His voice was deep, deep and soft like velvet, <<nephews>> he finally said, addressing her brothers. Both Luke and Jace straightened their backs when their uncle spoke to them, <<have you come to train?>> there was a dark glimmer of excitement in the lilac orb of Aemond. She knew he wished for nothing more than to beat them up, probably both at the same time. Just to show his better skill, even with his one eye. Was she a terrible sister if she wished to see it? If she got aroused while her brothers were shamed by their uncle?

&lt;&lt;;Niece>> Called the same velvety voice, sweeter this time, not like honey or sugar, but like a sweet poison, it snapped her from her trance and cut clean the string of her thoughts, dirty thoughts. Aemond discarded his training sword and started to walk in her direction, she saw it in his eye that he decided to find new ways to hurt their brothers, <<your beauty is that of a goddess>> he delicately grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. It took everything in her not to laugh at his face. Visenya turned briefly and saw how Jace and Luke were barely containing themself, she felt Aemond’s grin on the soft skin of her hands. <<Have you come to spend time amongst true dragons?>> She was waiting for the insult, she knew it would come. She hummed, faking amusement at her uncle’s pun, <<this days a prefer.. stronger company, I fear, my beloved uncle>> she delicately slid her hand from his grip and started walking towards her brothers, and the inside of the keep. Where she knew their mother was waiting for them.

It didn’t take long before her walk was stopped, by Criston Cole this time, &lt;&lt;;Princess>> he bowed. It was more of an insult than a reverence, <<I fear the training yard is no place for a woman, you would be wise to keep away. The risk of injury is high>> her blood boiled. That man had the ability to irate her like no other. She felt the fire, she wanted to breathe flames on his body and enjoy looking at him burning.

A thud, the ground and walls shaking, it was what kept her from responding. A low growl and a shadow who blocked the sun. Cirston’s face contorted in horror. The fear in eyes, the amusement badly hidden in Aemond’s. Her brothers’ grins. All of this fed the flames of her rage.

She kept her eyes in Cole’s dark orb, &lt;<I find the interest you have in my uncle’s training quite unusual, Cole>> his body went rigid in memory, <<I find that men would have that kind of devotion in a cousin, a brother…>> she enjoyed torture, the rage she knew he felt and couldn’t let out, <<or a son>> Visenya kept her eyes in Cole’s as she began to circle him, <<is that because of his injury, hmm>> she moved to his right side, his face snapping in her direction not live her stare, as if she could stab him any moment. She wished she could, <<or is it all the late nights you spent with his mother the Queen? Your.. devotion to her grace that compels you to take care of her children?>> She felt Aemond’s rage at the suggestion, and saw Cole’s cold sweat dripping down his neck. She was joking, she had no way of knowing what happened inside the keep while she was way on Dragonstone, but the sheer terror she could read in Criston’s eyes were indicators that somehow she hit a sore spot, <<I know your secret>> she whispered in his ear, for him only to hear, <<I know why you killed Joffrey Lonmouth>> her wild grin only grew when she saw his body tense and go rigid.

&lt;<;Look at him>> Visenya said out loud, tilting her head towards the large dragon perched on the walls right in front of them. Everyone turned, not just Criston Cole and Aemond, not far behind, <<Balerion believes this walls and halls to be his>> she said for all to hear, <<he still vividly remembers when the Conqueror ordered the construction of this keep, when he made him breath fire on the pile of swords that compose the throne that belongs to my grandfather, he sees all of you as guests in his halls>> she said, looking at Aemond, <<and be mindful, dragons are rather territorial. History should tell you what he did to those who challenged his riders, what happened to Aenys’s brood>> she didn’t even need to mention Maegor’s name to stir fear in the hearts of the presents.

Balerion highlighted her words with a low growl, one that made most of the people in the yard scramble inside, &lt;<if you care to remain in this world, Criston>> she refused to call him by his title of knight. He had forsaken his vow, even if her mother was the one guilty of instigating it. He could have left her in her room that kight, <<you should remember your place and how to properly address your superior. And who this halls will one day belong to.>>

She smirked noticing how Aemond looked uneasy, not at her display of power, he was grinning, he loved it she understood. Her gaze trailed down for a moment, it was his trousers who made him uncomfortable, too tight she knew. Visenya bit her bottom lip and left. She had to be in her room as soon as she could.

—

The next time they saw each other was in the throne room. It was packed with people, the entire royal family, the remaining Velaryons and everyone who was peasant at court, higher and lower Lords and Ladies. All anxiously awaiting to hear about the issue of the succession of Driftmark.

Criston Cole was nowhere to be seen.

&lt;<Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,>> Began the booming voice of the Hand. He was too comfortable in her grandfather’s throne, Visenya thought. It is a seat for dragons, not for a lesser born second son. <<We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand I speak with the King’s Voice on this and all other matters>> She and Daemon sneered, at almost the same time. Rhaenyra glared at them both, but they couldn’t help themselves. How can such a second son to a lesser house pretend to speak with the voice of a dragon? She wanted to shout, how could he so blatantly disrespect his King’s wishes. The same King he so adamantly claimed to serve? She wanted to climb the steps and rip him out from the throne. To teach him a lesson. She felt her father’s hand on her elbow, silently telling her to calm down. To allow him to talk his nonsense.

&lt;<The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins>> Claimed Lord Velaryon pleading his cause, <;<and not in mine?>> Visenya reached her point of break, the insults veiled in Vaemond’s speech too much to bear and stay silent. 

The Lord turned, he looked at her, &lt;<Am I not the first born daughter of Ser Laenor Velaryon? Tell, me Vaemond, how can a second brother overstep the offsprings of the firstborn son of Driftmark?>>

&lt;<Your mother will have her chance to make her own petition, Princess>> Came the voice of Alicent Hightower, <<Do ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard>> Rhaenyra gripped her hand, pleading to stop. But Visenya was her father’s daughter, too much like Daemon to calmly wait out the storm.

&lt;<I am already doing Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to breathe>> She said turning her attention toward the Queen consort, <<it is courtesy enough given the insults spoken towards my mother, my father’s memory and towards his own brother>> she saw Otto Hightower’s grip on the throne’s handles tighten. She hoped it cut him.

&lt;<The craven couldn’t wait for his own brother’s death to try and seize his title. I hear he didn’t even go to sit at Lord Corlys’ side once, such was his taste for power>> She continued, relentless, unforgiving, <<I wonder why Vaemond stood, unmoving, when the pirates attacked my grandfather’s ship. From atop Balerion I saw you cowardice, or rather your lust for power, as you stood motionless spectating your own brother’s fall>> She was at Vaemon’s side now, hearing the court’s whispers, <<I was there when they retrieved my grandfather’s body, I was the first to tend to his injuries. And never once have I seen you>> Vaemond’s face was unreadable, too many emotions all at once were depicted on his face. <<I wonder if you rejoiced in seeing him fall>> She continued, <<I wonder if you would have slain him yourself, if I didn’t stay by his side day and night until we arrived on Driftmark>> kinslayer, was the word whispered in the hall, power hungry, man without honor. Visenya had reached her goal, Vaemond’s case, despite the favor of the greens, just crumbled, falling like the dry leaves on a tree's branches in autumn. Gone and forgotten like the cinders she left on the Stepstones, that once belonged to the thriarcy’s soldiers.

Viserys’s presence was anymore needed, yet her heart warmed at the sight of her grandfather come to defend his only daughter, as her mother confessed she had called her. She glanced once in the direction of her uncles, while her father helped the old King to sit on his throne. She disliked them. Not because of her mother’s and Alicent’s feud, or because of the rift in her family, she disliked them because not once in her life had they made her feel welcomed. She disliked Aegon, most of all, she hated his grin, and the light hand wave he gave her when he saw her looking. The sight of him repulsed her. The sight of his hands even more so.

Aemond had a grin on his face. She couldn’t know why, nor did she cared to. Then there was Helaena. Sweet Helaena, always lost in her world and her bugs.

Her trance was broken once again by the irritating voice of Vaemond Velaryon, &lt;<I will not allow it>> the fool said, <<allow it?>> came the voice of Viserys. He was weaker than she ever saw him, his illness eating him away slowly. But even in that moment she saw the shadow of the dragon he was, the flames burning in the back of mind. She admired him, him and his strength, she couldn’t understand the strength it took him to get there despite his decaying body, the resilience in settling this matter once and for all.

The discussion went on, but she didn’t listen, she was focused on her mother’s hand gripping her wrist, on her silent plea to stay still and do nothing, to let the King settle the matter. To not act for once, like her father would.

&lt;<I will not see it ended on the account of this..> Vaemond said, a dead man standing, she grinned, <<say it>> Daemon whispered. Visenya grinned, savoring the chaos about to erupt.

She saw the fear in the eyes of Otto Hightower, fear for her father, and the resignation on the King's feature, he too knew his brother too well.

&lt;<Her children are bastards!>> The corpse shouted, the King leaned over on his throne, the Queen held his breath and her uncles grinned, <<and she is a whore>> she wished she could be the one to end it.

It took one only precise swing to cut Vaemond's head in half, &lt;<he can keep his tongue>> said Daemon to his brother, after he had called for the beheaded man’s tongue after the insult shouted.

The half of Vaemond’s head rolled at her feet, she kicked it and it rolled so that now it balanced on what was left of his skull, revealing the insides of it, &lt;<empty, as I thought>> she proclaimed. Her father laughed. The Queen was disgusted, the King fed up, Aegon was petrified, poor Halaena was almost panicking, she felt terrible for her sweet aunt, and Aemond was almost excited. She wondered again what she could see from the hole in eye socket. She wondered if he wished to live with such impunity like her father, he dreamt of himself being in his shoes, with Luke instead of Vaemond. She wished to know what it felt like, possessing the strength to behead a man with such ease.

&lt;<;Disarm him!>> shouted the hand, <;<no need>> sang her father, cleaning Darksister with his cloak. 

Her mother let out a long breath, relieved and angered both. Visenya knew she hated when she and her father took harsh decisions without her counsel. But this was necessary and even she understood. Vaemond Velaryon could have been left to live after the accusation. Even if he was right to call them bastards.

&lt;<Enough of this nonsense>> Came the weakening voice of Viserys, <<it warms my heart to see my family all reunited>> he couldn’t speak more than a few words before taking a break to breath, it was painful to see, &lt;<we shall celebrate it with a feast tonight>> Visenya tried to remember the man she saw in her youth, the strong King she admired, who so kindly spent time with her as a child. Her and her brothers, never his other children she bitterly thought.

&lt;<And to further unite our house>> He breathed, turning to look at her, oh no, she thought freezing under her grandfather’s gaze. She knew what he was about to say, and her parents too, she could see it in the way Rhaenyra’s grip tightened, in how her breaths were deeper. She saw it in Daemon’s hand gripping the hilt of Darksister, on his eyes of the brother he loved and loathed at the same time, <<come forward Visenya, my first grandchild>> she obeyed her king, she didn’t have any other choice. <<You are the image of my mother>> He smiled briefly, <<and of my father>> she knew little of Baelon and Alyssa, save that they both died before their time. Visenya returned her grandfather’s smile, despite the grip that took a hold of her stomach, <<willful and beautiful, and clever beyond your age>> she bowed in thanks. Yet the compliments didn’t ease the hold her stomach was in, nor did they make her accept easily what was about to happen.

He slowly turned towards his wife, his wife and her children. &lt;&lt;Aemond>> He called. She saw her uncle stiffen, and bow, and when Viserys signaled him to come closer he did so, quietly. There was no love in his lilac eye, no empathy for the suffering King on the throne, he was afraid maybe, but just because that man was his King. There was no love between Aemond and his father, and she found it deeply sad. <<My dear children, it is my wish to see you united in marriage>> Visenya was frozen in her spot, her arms limp on her sides, her mind filled with one thought, repeated over and over again, <<;to further unite our family, as it should be>>, she did not hear the rest of it. Visenya stood there, frozen like a statue, thinking that sooner rather than later she will belong to the man next to her. That he could do as he pleased with her, and her body. It was a terrifying thought.

When they arrived for dinner thankfully her uncles were still nowhere to be seen. She sat at the head of the table, close to her father who was still fuming from the events of the day.

He had spent the rest of the afternoon irate, screaming and throwing things left and right. Visenya however, just sat, she sat and watched her father’s ire, her mother’s worried face, and her brothers' angry expressions. She knew that sooner rather than later she had to marry, there was a time where she knew it would be in the family, a time when the rift between them wasn’t so large and irreparable, a time when she knew that her bond with Balerion was too important to House Targaryen for her to be sold to any other House.

And there was a time when she was content in that knowledge, when she told herself that at least she got to know her future husband better than any other Lady, his flaws and his character. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now the prospect of wedding Aemond Targaryen terrified her. It terrified her because she would be forced in the viper's den, she would be forced to spend time with them, with Aegon. 

She could not take her mother’s side once she was married, she could not support her, she would be expected to obey her husband. Her husband whom she knew hated her brother Luke and her family with every single fiber of his tall, muscular body. Her husband who, in the privacy of their chambers, could do everything he wished. Even slid her throat and eliminate her mother’s greatest weapon, the one reason the peace was holding. The one dragon that could end any and all rebellions by himself.

They entered moments before her grandfather. Aemond took the seat right in front of her, on the other side of the table. Never once did his eye leave her. She returned the gaze, unwilling to show fear, or to make him think that she would easily bow to his will. 

Visenya stood, like everyone else, when guards came to bring the chair in which Viserysìs sat. His body was so weak that now even supporting itself was too great of a taks. The guards placed him in the center, between his daughter and his wife.

&lt;<Prayer before we begin?>> Asked the weak voice of Alicent, she sneered like Daemon. And watched as everyone joined their hands. Hers remained on her lap. It was odd, however, to see Aemond’s head bow in prayer, the perfect image of a pious man. She wondered if he was really so religious, or if he was simply pleasing her mother.

&lt;<May the smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long>> How big of a hypocrite could Alicent be? Did she not forget her contribution to those broken bonds? Did she not forget that it was her father, her son, her betrayal towards her mother’s friendship that generated this situation? <<And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest>> Visenya turned towards her father, Daemon was suppressing a laugh. She bit her lips to avoid making a sound. Her mother glared her disapproval. They both turned to look down at their laps, to avoid showing their expression. To Vaemond Velaryon she thought, snickering. The audacity.

She raised her head once again, Aemond’s eye was still on her. Not her face though, no. Visenya grinned, he was staring at her body, at the low cut of her dress. ‘Aemond is a man’ Said her mother after Daemond had calmed enough to allow conversations to be had, ‘and your body is a weapon he cannot resist’ she supposed her mother was right. &lt;&lt;Aemond>> The old King called, his son snapped his head in the direction of the sound. Has Viserys ever cared to call his son ? How many times had Aemond heard his name coming from the lips of his father in the last nine years? <<Why are you seated so far from your future wife?>> She saw Alicent’s face drop, was he her favorite son ? It certainly looked like it, seeing how her expression hardened when Aemond stood from his chair. As if someone had sewered a limb from her body at that very moment. An important piece of information at least.

She turned to look at her father, he stiffened and glared at his brother. Do nothing she pleaded in her mind. Jace and Baela were ready to make space, but she moved first. The Princess slid her chair closer to her father, and gestured for the new chair to be placed at her side. She would avoid Daemon sitting in front of his nephew. Gods forbid giving Daemon a target for his ires.

Aemond sat without ceremonies, &lt;<a toast, to the three young couples>> called the King. Everyone raised his glass. She saw her future husband stiffen, Visenya followed his gaze to see Aegon, whispering something to Jace.

It didn’t take long before Viserys was brought back to his chambers, his body could endure all so much. And the moment he left, all the toasts and wishes of good faith left with him. It was as if their family was starting to rot and decay like his body. A chill went down her spine, what would happen when they finally lost the one frail thing that binds them all together? Would war ensure the moment Viserys died? 

In the end it started with a dance: she huffed when Jace stood and asked Helaena to dance with him. To her good soul it probably was an innocent act, to everyone else, a scorn to Aegon. 

She saw a glare of anger in Aemond’s face, it was much more evident than in his brother’s. Visenya slid a hand on his thigh, his muscular, strong thigh. Aemond’s head snapped immediately in her direction. &lt;<Helaena is a great dancer>> She said, he hummed, offering her his hand, a silent invitation to join the dances, the polite thing to do, <<oh no>> Visenya laughed, <;<I am no dancer, my talents lie elsewhere>> she whispered. It worked, if the way he slowly swallowed his saliva was any indication, now his attention was going to be nowhere near her brothers, if she played well enough.

Her hand stayed on his thigh caressing it lightly, Aemond didn’t complain. 

&lt;<A final tribute>> Called Aegon, once his wife was returned to him, <<to my brother and his future wife>> Visenya’s free hand gazed at the knife on the side of the table, her betrothed saw, and so did her father. <<And to my nephews, all wise, handsome..>> She knew what he would say, she removed her hand from his thigh and grabbed the cup in front of her, <<strong>> then she felt Aemond’s hand, his big calloused hand on her leg. He grabbed the soft flesh of her thigh, probably in the vain hope that she would stay put and ignore the insult. Visenya grinned, crossing her legs and trapping her future husband’s hand too close to her core. 

She leaned over, brushing her breasts on Aemond’s bicep, holding her cup high,&lt;<and to you, my Lord Hightower>> She said, toasting towards Aegon, she acted before any of her brothers could do anything stupid. Daemon sneered, Aemond’s grip tightened, her mother pleaded her to stop with a look.

&lt;<Look at me, niece, don’t I look like a Targaryen should?>> He said. Indeed he did, he had the silver hair and the purple eyes typical of their house. <<So do all the whores in Lys, yet none feel the urge to shout it out loud>> She laughed. Rhaenyra closed her eyes, Daemon laughed, her brothers grinned. The Hightowers looked horrified. Aemond’s hand gripped a bit tighter her soft flesh, she felt a shiver crawling towards her core.

Her mother then stood, to toast Alicent and her loyalty towards Viserys, to the unfaltering love she had shown him even in his sickness. Visenya supposed that it was due to the guilt she felt towards her childhood friend, to the friendship her marriage destroyed.

The dinner proceeded then, the table clearly divided in two apart from Aemond who unceremoniously stood, excusing himself for a moment.

She waited for what felt like a reasonable amount of time before standing herself, pretending she needed to use the privy. Visenya was never one to make her prey escape.

She strolled in the general direction of the bath, it was a small, dark room lit only by lanterns hung high on the stone floor. It wasn’t hard to spot Aemond’s tall figure, even in the dim light. She sneaked closer, inching towards his back. There was no mistaking what he was doing, given the rhythmic movements of his arm. 

&lt;<Isn’t this a sin?>> Visenya asked in the sweetest tone she could muster, while grabbing at his muscular arms. She felt his entire body stiffen, in embarrassment surely. The Princess pressed herself on his back, caressing her way down the curves of his arms, towards his big hands. <<Will your gods punish you still, if I am the one committing this sin?>> She mewled cupping his hands. Aemond groaned, letting his hands fall and allowing her to grip his hardened length. 

Visenya started to stroke him, up and down. She couldn’t really see what she was doing, with her face pressed on his shoulder, but he could feel the smooth skin of his member, the almost imperceptible movements of his hips, back and forth, his labored breaths. &lt;<Were you thinking of me?>> She asked, the only reply she got was a low moan that sent shivers down her spine. 

&lt;<When we will be married>> Aemond finally said, between groans and moans, she took note of her hands becoming wetter, as did her core, <<I shall shut that mouth of yours with my cock>> she laughed, and willed her hands to move faster.

It didn’t take long for him to finish, which left her with tacky, wet hands, and a wet, needy cunt.

&lt;<When we are married>> Visenya said, reaching the water basin to wash away that annoying feeling from her hands, <<;I shall bite your cock off>> she wondered how terrible it might feel, that wetness, tackiness, not on her fingers but on her inner thigh. It was not something she would love to, Visenya decided.<<We will see>> Whispered Aemond in her ear, right before disappearing in the darkness.

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#aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x strong!reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon oc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x visenya targaryen #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x visenya #aemond targaryen x niece #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aegon targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen #aemond one eye

[mochie85]

Creature Comforts - Chapter 2

Creature Comforts Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki is enamored by you, and you can’t understand why. He tries to get your attention until a disastrous accident occurs pushing you to rely on him. Will his charm finally win you over? Or will you continue to stay in your comfort zone? A/N: My ASKS are always open. Don't hesitate to send in a request or say 'hi.' And check out the very end of the fic for a reading of the poem done by Tom Hiddleston. Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Reader) Word Count: 3k Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Flirtatious Loki. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

It was a lonely sort of darkness. Thankfully, your consciousness would spare you from the bleakness, the endlessness, by putting you to sleep. You didn’t know how long you’ve been under.

At times there was pain. Like someone was pinching you to wake up. Other times, there were voices lulling you to wake. Always a murmur, you couldn’t understand what anyone was saying.

“Liesl. Wake up, sweetness.”

You wanted to be left alone. You were comfortable. You were content. Here in the emptiness, the darkness. A creature of comfort. You were so content that sleep came to you so easily.

In time, there was a lightness happening around you. The dark was giving way to shades of black and then gray. You were tired.

“Somewhere on the other side of this wide night And the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon.”

A voice. So strong and sad, cut through the mesh of colors forming in your mind. 

“This is pleasurable. Or should I cross that out and say That it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing An impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.”

Carol Ann Duffy. She was – is one of your favorite poets. The colors in your mind started to take shape. There was light and shadow. Colors from the painting on the wall across the room; two silhouettes on a boat across the sunset. The fact that you knew it was a painting across the room was a feat in itself. You grew tired and the blackness took over again. You fell asleep to the sullen voice. Listening as relief crept over you.

“La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine The dark hills I would have to cross To reach you. For I am in love with you and this Is what it is like, or what it is like in words.”

Your legs hurt. They were sore and it felt as if tiny ants were crawling all over them. I have to straighten them out. I’ve been cooped up in this position for too long. You opened your eyes and took in your room. Clear and sharp. No more blurriness. No more darkness. You were in a hospital room, hooked up to IVs and monitors. The painting across the room greeted you as you sat up, with pain and great effort, and looked around.

You were alone. Except maybe not? You took in the chair situated next to your bed. There was a blanket and a book lying flat on the seat as if someone just momentarily stepped out. You felt the tingling in your legs again and looked down.

Loki came back into your room and was startled to find your bed reclined up. You turned your head slowly up to him. Your eyes filled with fat tears threatening to fall down. You took in his disheveled appearance. His wrinkled shirt. His sallow skin. He had coffee in one hand and combed his fingers through his hair with the other.

“Darling…”

“Why can’t I move my legs, Loki?” you cried. The tears fell down your face. It became harder to breathe as panic settled in your heart. Loki came running up to you and held you in an embrace. Your cries only got louder. “Wh-why can’t…I…” you started to hyperventilate. A louder sob wracked out of your body as Loki tried to console you. “No!” you screamed into his shoulder.

“Shh. Shh. Don’t cry, my dear.” He soothed as he rubbed his hands up and down your back. You shook your head, drenching his wrinkled shirt with your tears and sobs.

You fisted his shirt crying as he held you in his arms. He let your tears soak through. The pain and loud cries seeping through to his heart. He didn’t let go of you once. That small piece of him, the one he protected from all things, shattered and broke at the sight of you.

You didn’t know how long you had cried there. Minutes? Hours? Loki sat on the bed facing you. His body leaned over, his arm resting on the other side of you like he was shielding you from the sight of your legs. His free hand held yours. The doctor came in and tried to explain what happened.

The explosion was minor. It was the initial shock that made you fall back. You hit your head and the top of your cervical spine really hard on the table behind you. MRIs had shown no injury or damage to your neck or spine.

You sat there, quietly. Staring past Loki’s body, to your legs. You didn’t acknowledge the doctor. Loki was kind enough to speak on your behalf, asking about your legs.

“It just atrophied, dear heart. With enough rest and maybe some rehab, you’ll be able to get mobility again,” Loki promised. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since you stopped crying. His eyes were still clear and sharp, but his brows had shaped them into a sadness that you wanted to smooth over.

You didn’t realize that the doctor had already left. “Are you comfortable?” Loki asked. You looked at him with a detachment that terrified him and simply nodded your head.

“How long was I out?” your voice hoarse from crying.

“Almost two months. You hit your head pretty hard. Are you hungry?” he asked you. You shook your head no. “Alright. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to call the team and let them know you’re awake.” He said smiling at you.

“Have you been here this whole time?” you asked in a small voice.

“On and off. Some of the team has come by to visit. We take turns.” He lied smoothly.

“Why? Why are you here, Loki?” you said flatly. Plainly.

“Because I like you,” he said simply with a smile. His words tugging at a memory from your past. You looked down at the chair next to your bed, with his blanket and book. You recalled the sullen voice that you heard while you were under.

“…For I am in love with you and this Is what it is like or what it is like in words.”

You looked into his eyes with awareness and he knew that you figured it out.

Regardless of what you had said, Loki came back with ice chips and some crackers. “The nurse had said to ease you into eating again. This was all she offered me.” He said with slight disdain. “We provided for our infirmed better on Asgard.” He continued under his breath.

You snickered at his remark and he beamed at you proudly. He opened your saltines for you and handed them to you. When you went to grab them, they slipped from your fingers onto your bed. You hadn’t noticed how numb your fingertips felt. You looked down at your hands as if they were foreign and not yours.  You felt so helpless.

Loki held your hands and massaged your fingers. “Just the atrophy, darling. It’ll get better.” He took out one square of saltines and held it up to your lips. You looked at it first, then at him. When you took a bite, he smiled. Then he spoon-fed you ice from the cup till you were satisfied. It was one of the most humbling experiences of your life. To feel vulnerable and useless. To be at the mercy of Loki.

 “Thank you,” you said softly. Loki simply nodded his head and sat back down on the chair next to you. “Will you read to me?”

He looked up at your request. His eyes were blank but sharp, trying to hide the emotion swelling up inside him.

He began with his deep voice. A low grumble, a vibration that settled in your bones and helped you relax. Within minutes, you fell back to sleep.

The next morning, Loki was gone. The blanket was folded neatly on the chair but his book was missing. Nat and Thor were standing next to you as Tony looked at the chart on your bedside.

“She wakes,” Thor said, helping you sit up.

“Hey, sweetie.” Nat cooed.

“Hi, guys. What did I miss?” you joked. Tony took a step towards you and sat next to you on your bed. Right where Loki sat last night.

“Edelweiss. You ok?” he asked earnestly. You rolled your eyes at his nickname for you. “Sorry about what happened. I should’ve warned you before you got into the lab.”

“It’s ok,” you pacified.

“Good news is the doctor cleared you to come home today. Everything checks out. When you’re ready we can start physical therapy. Someone can come by and help you with your legs.” Tony offered.

You winced when he said that. You forgot about your legs. Reflexively, you tried to wiggle your toes. A slight movement of your feet had you wide-eyed and hopeful. You turned to tell Loki but forgot he wasn’t there. “Where’s Loki?”

“He went home to freshen up,” Nat answered.

“He’s stayed by your side the whole time you were here,” Thor said with a knowing smile. “He said he would only be gone for just a moment. That you wouldn’t miss him.”

But apparently, you did miss him. Thor shared a look with Nat that you ignored. The entire time, Thor said. It certainly warmed something inside you.

That afternoon, your doctor had discharged you with follow-up appointments for the next couple of months. Tony accompanied you out of the hospital in a wheelchair and drove you back home to the tower. It was as if you left the doom and dejection there in that hospital room. The bright afternoon sun lifting your spirits. You were anxious to go home. To see all your friends. To see Loki. He hadn’t come back to the hospital at all.

The moment you rolled off the elevator, the team swarmed you. “Surprise!” They all yelled in unison. “Welcome home.”

There were smiles and hugs all around. You were glad that Nat had insisted that you bathe and get ready earlier with the help of a nurse. But of course, she probably knew about the welcome home party.

As you said your ‘hellos’ and ‘thank yous’ to the team, you looked around searching for his face amidst the crowd. You found him looking straight at you, watching you, sitting in your favorite spot on the couch.

Loki looked roguish and captivating all at the same time. He sat with his foot atop his knee. His left elbow, inclined on the armrest as his fingers caressed his lips.  He donned his signature button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark slacks.  A half-smirk played on his mouth as his eyes took you rolling towards him. He looked completely different from the time he comforted you in the hospital. More alive. More joy on his handsome face.

“You’re in my spot.” You said to him calmly.

“Come and take it then.” He said waving his hand out to you. Playful. He wanted to be playful. You’ve had enough stress the last couple of months to last you a good while. He missed your smile. He missed the twinkle in your eye when he pushed you to the edge of your comfort and you stood your ground. The detached look on your face haunted him last night. He couldn’t get the image out of his head.

You narrowed your eyes at him staying silent. “How are your legs?” he asked sincerely.

“I moved my foot earlier.” You said dismissively. Coolly. You recalled that he wasn’t in the room with you to share in the triumph.

“That’s wonderful news. You’ll be running from me again in no time.” He said. That smirk of his getting wider. “I do love the chase,” he added. “And your fingers? How are they?” At this, he leaned forward, putting both his feet on the ground to reach for your hand. He inspected your fingers, while he gently massaged your palm.

“Th-they’re great.” You stammered. “I got control back almost immediately.” You continued as you wiggled your fingers in his hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours and chuckled.

“Good. I miss your hands running through my hair.” He said coyly as he played with your digits. A heated blush rose in both of you.

No one missed it. The interaction between the two of you. They watched through the corners of their eyes as they mingled with each other. Knowing smiles and sideway glances as they watched the two of you flirt.

“So,” Tony said sliding over to the both of you on the couch. “The physical therapist will be here starting tomorrow. An hour every day, until you’re up and running again. Literally.” Tony said to you. You tried to take your hand back from Loki, but he held it firmly. He wasn’t about to let you go now that he has you in his grasp. “Your doctor is confident that you can get your mobility again within two to three weeks.”

“How long till I get to go back on the field?” You asked. Loki’s hand stilled in yours.

“You just got out of a major injury, Liesl. Even if you did start walking tomorrow, the doctor said it might be months till you get your strength back to the fighting stance you had before the accident.” Tony advised you. Loki felt you squeeze his hand in disappointment. He felt Tony’s words come to life as he realized how weak your grip was.

“What will I do till then?” you asked dejected.

“I’ll help you train every day. After your therapy. Don’t worry darling, you’ll be back in no time.” Loki offered.

“You’d help me, really?”

“Sure. What better incentive than to be with me dear heart.” Loki said teasingly.

“You act as if you don’t annoy me and I enjoy your company.” You taunted. You tried to take your hand away again, but Loki held on firmly.

“Don’t you? And here I thought I was wearing you down.” Loki said in mock defeat. You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I love getting under your skin.” He continued with a slight bite on his lip.

“Ok, Von Trapp. What’s going on here? Is this like a thing-are you guys a thing?” Tony said pointing to both of you. You forgot that Tony was sitting next to Loki on the couch. Apparently, so did Loki.

“Jealous, Stark?” Loki turned his reckless smile upon him.

“Nope. I’m not doing this. I haven’t had enough drinks in me to witness this.” Tony stood, unnerved by his smile. “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Meet the therapist downstairs at the gym.” He pointed to you as he walked away.

Later that night, Loki offered to carry you into your room. He held you bridal style as he walked passed the threshold. Wanda and Nat following behind, your wheelchair in tow.

“Hopefully, you won’t need to use this for long. I know Tony tried to make everything wheelchair accessible.” Wanda said, parking the chair by the side of your bed.

“Should I stay in case you need something in the middle of the night?” Nat asked.

“No. I’ll be fine. I’ll ask FRIDAY for help if I need anything.” You said. You looked to Loki who was still carrying you in his arms.

You cleared your throat and shot a quick glance to your bed to signal him to put you down.

“Oh, right. My apologies.” Loki fumbled as he placed you sitting on top of your bed. The plush comforter engulfed you into its soft embrace. This is definitely much more comfortable than that hospital bed. “Ladies.” Loki said with a slight bow to Nat and Wanda. He exited shortly after with a ‘goodnight’ to you.

As soon as he closed your door, Nat and Wanda turned to you in a quick flurry of hair and limbs. “What’s the story?” Wanda asked immediately.

“Nothing. There is no story,” you said wide-eyed.

“Bullshit.” Nat cursed.

“Ya. Sam said he saw you guys cuddling on the couch months ago before your…accident.” Wanda drawled.

“I think he’s been trying to pursue me. But I honestly haven’t thought of him that way. Until he started to just be wherever I happen to be. I didn’t know whether he was trying to pull a joke or not. I know he stayed with me at the hospital.”

“He practically lived there.” Nat interrupted you. “He got so mad at Tony for the accident.”

“But it wasn’t Tony’s fault. I was the one being careless.” You disrupted.

“Don’t start. We know it’s not Tony’s fault…” Wanda started.

“We don’t think it’s your fault either.” Nat tried to appease you.

“It was just a sad accident. But Loki was so angry that he needed something – someone to put the blame on. Tony let him yell at him. Even let Loki threaten to throw him off the tower again. Tony felt so bad about what happened to you.” Wanda finished. That explains Tony’s reaction earlier on the couch. You made a mental note to talk to Tony about it. Make sure he knows that you don’t blame him.

“So, do you see him that way? Do you like him back?” Nat asked. You looked up at her eyes, then to Wanda. You couldn’t help the blushing smile spreading across your face, hurting your cheeks, as you nodded a silent ‘yes’ to both of them.

Loki stood in the hallway, his back leaning to your door, hearing everything you guys talked about. Except for that final answer.

⬅️Chapter 1 | Chapter 3➡️

Taglist: @albinotigerpython @annesunlight @a-witch-with-words @daintinessiskey @fire-in-her-veinz @froggybitchh @gigglingtigger @hoff-mommy @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jmehp @kellatron55 @kxthxrinx0310 @lokiprompts @lokisgoodgirl @lokiestorch @lokixryss @lonadane @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @mcufan72 @midnights-ramblings @mistress-of-words @salempoe @sititran @sonatabee @wolfsmom1 @yoongissidebitchh @lokiprompts @lokisninerealsms @alexs1200 @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @mishief2sarawr @user13cabs

#loki fandom #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki angst #loki series #mcu #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x OC #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfic #flirt #loki laufeyson #marvel fanfic

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 184 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the jasmine in my garden.

"Though one could pluck a numeral from the air and add some zeros, place a figure on how many tiny, twitching things exist within these tunnels, it cannot be comprehended. Not truly." NOT REA- oh wait, false alarm xD Is that the sophisticated version of not really? Not truly?

"A trillion. An octillion. A quindecillion." I googled that, I wanted to know if this is real or made-up words xD So a quindecillion is a number equal to 1 followed by 48 zeros! Now I wonder, to what extent do we have names for numbers that high? Okay, so I googled further, and this is actually hilarious! Check this out, Wikipedia entry to Googolplex: "In 1920, Edward Kasner's nine-year-old nephew, Milton Sirotta, coined the term googol, which is 10^100, and then proposed the further term googolplex to be 'one, followed by writing zeroes until you get tired'".

It's cool that this domain has (at least) two victims with very different understanding of what they are afraid of. One being hurt and the other one hurting others.

JON: "Don’t like ants?" MARTIN: "Obviously not. No-one likes ants, Jon." JON: "As the embodiment of all knowledge, I am not entirely sure that’s true but… okay." Yep, there are people who like ants. Friends of mine have a pet ant colony.

JON: "No, John Amherst was encased in concrete, and shrivelled away to nothing after just a few years." I already talked about this in S4, but this could be seen as another confirmation that spreading fear is indeed necessary for an Avatar's survival. So Daisy would have literally starved to death. Old written statements probably also wouldn't have sustained Jon forever. We know from MAG 155 that the fears will find ways to force you into doing more and more damage.

JON: "It’s the ants." Finally we see animals! They always had a place in the fear ecosystem, as Jon has called it, and this one and the thing about a domain for cats are the only examples we have... The way good cows blew up I would have somehow expected a secret cow level to make an appearance...

MARTIN: "I sometimes forget that most of the people we know are avatars." Hm, super sad. They were in so deep, it probably would actually have been dangerous for outsiders to hang with them much. And then of course there are the non-Avatars, who didn't make it. Sasha. Tim.

JON: "Ceaseless Watcher, look upon this man –" MARTIN: "Jon…" JON: "– subsumed by terror and gripped with swarming fear. Gaze into him, through him… And out of him." MARTIN: "What does that mean?" JON: "Make him a vessel of your hunger, staring out and harvesting with a thousand, thousand, thousand, tiny, eager, eyes." MARTIN: "Hang on…" Martin's comments as he slowly realizes what Jon's doing here are so funny XD

JORDAN: "What did you do to me? I feel…" JON: "Better?" JORDAN: "Sick." Jon's hope to have finally done something good is so audible in this. And it's getting smashed in an instant. Can't have shit in the apocalypse...

JORDAN: "What did you do to me?" JON: "I helped you." JORDAN: "Helped me? I don’t feel right, I, I just – Ah! No I don’t – argh! I don’t want this!" The insistent tone Jon uses here. He desperately wants to do something, just a tiny bit of good.

JORDAN: "No, I don’t – I didn’t ask for this!" :( Just like Jon... Jon never wanted this and he probably feels terrible to have done this to someone else now.

JORDAN: "I don’t… I don’t know how to be this. I don’t want to scare people." JON: "No. But you’ll learn." JORDAN: "… Am I still me?" JON: "I don’t know how to answer that." And more and more heart-wrenching parallels...

JORDAN: "The ants… If I told them to attack you. Could they?" JON: "… No. Nothing can really touch us anymore." God, and then this... Actively antagonizing Jon for what he's done... After a few breather episodes this one’s back to being a punch to the gut.

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 184 #tma #tma spoilers

[angelsndragons]

oh luis, it is a relief to know that ace folk like me aren’t the only ones who completely miss the undertones when we’re producing stuff. also i am punch drunk tired because it has been a long day over here.

but also i’m just going to sit here and laugh at the fandom for a good long time because i was so annoyed at how many bad takes on my boy zerxus are floating around (and how one in particular feels like a dig at me, if you know, you know, if you don’t you don’t) but now it’s just not as annoying anymore. my reading on zerxus is so much closer to where luis’ head was at than the vast majority of people that i ain’t even mad anymore at the people saying zerxus should have had the wisdom to know when to walk away, very pointedly using the mechanics as a sort of gotcha instead of understanding that it’s not hubris to try to make a difference, even a seemingly tiny almost imperceptible difference to the world. when mortals are but ants to the cosmic giants running around, margins matter. it’s not hubris, it’s compassion and anyone who’s yelling at zerxus for trying and failing needs to stop liking the everlight for doing the exact same thing knowing that someone else had failed before her. please, enlighten me as to the difference between their attempts. and don’t say it’s because she’s a goddess and he’s a mortal, the raven queen already proved that the line between the two is much thinner than either would like to admit.

i need to people to recognize that the instant zerxus realized that asmodeus wasn’t serious, he immediately went into damage control and mitigation. when asmodeus actively rejected zerxus’ attempt, as opposed to passively in that one vision, zerxus made it his mission to mitigate as much of the fallout as he could. this man took the first arm of the betrayer, knowing the contract it held, and came back to fuck up asmodeus’ plans as best he could. and he succeeded! he succeeded so hard that eventually, because of him and the ring of brass, the calamity will end. asmodeus gave zerxus the chance to save the world and zerxus took it, hook, line, and sinker.

i need people to understand that zerxus choosing to go to asmodeus in the end is not borne of arrogance or a lack of wisdom on his part. it’s borne of faith. he’s not going to asmodeus because he is still trying to save asmodeus, he’s taking the contract to save himself and to make whatever minuscule difference he can in between the floggings, the slaughtering, the whatever that asmodeus will force him to do. he’s taking it out of the hope that one day he will get to see his husband and son again.

i need people to understand that death does not equal redemption, death just equals death. being alive will always accomplish more, good and bad, than being dead. death just stops everything; it doesn’t fix it, it doesn’t leave you the room or opportunity to make amends. it just makes people dead.

i also need people to understand that your line is not zerxus’ line. i, personally, could not do what zerxus does here. at all. i probably couldn’t even play it in a game. that doesn’t make zerxus wrong because if we talking grand cosmic scale the likes of which even we as nearly omniscient audience members cannot see, the only way to “balance” the scales (and lord i hate that notion, that a good thing done cancels out a bad and vice versa) in the end is for zerxus to live, to be able to one day add good to the world again.

tl;dr: stop saying that zerxus does not know his oaths and that his fatal flaw is his low wisdom and high arrogance. his fatal flaw, if it can be called that, is his high charisma and his unyielding faith.

#cr spoilers #exu calamity #exu spoilers #exu calamity spoilers #my ramblings #not quite meta #gonna regret this in the morning #zerxus ilerez #also can we please leave the disparaging comments out of the main character tags #please #manners matter people

[doodle-birdo]

Would you keep a tiny pk in a glass tank? Like a pet gecko? Or hamster? Give him lots of deep places to dig. Places to hide.

Sorry for the late reply. I wasn’t in a pk mood at the time and I cannot manifest thoughts when not in the mood.

That’s autism for ya.

BUT! Funny you should mention this cuz @eggobuggo and I have been making a Bug Tank AU where literally this happens to him and a bunch of others that get Tanked tm too.

But me? I wouldn’t keep him, no. I don’t think he would appreciate being kept in a small space like that for such an intelligent being.

He’d get plenty of substrate to dig. It would be like that those ant tanks where you’d see the tunnels, but this time it’s whatever he makes. There would also be a little hide for him to hide too. When you’re that smol, people would be terrifying when they’re that huge.

However, I would put him in a jar and shake it with him in it.

#hollow knight #hk pale king #bug tank au #he deserves to be in that shake jar #but ooooo that bug tank au is one of our big favs #their gang goes on a series of adventures #birdo's inbox

[clarencethemouse]

Chrissy Cunningham Headcanon Dump

none of these have a purpose to contribute to this world. I just think them and wish to share. Fight me

also I read a few of these from someone else. Whoever that one person was... hi. I don’t remember you. But if you stumble across this in the future, we think the same :) Head canon buddies :)

(also I’m not getting into her eating disorder at all. That’s just not something I want to touch)

first off her favorite colors are pale pink and yellow

we only see her in the white and green of Hawkins High uniforms, but damn does she look good in yellow

her favorite dress in her closet is a yellow and white floral patterned sundress. She usually wears a pale pink fabric headband with it. So cute

but hates wearing it in school cause it would only feed into the cutesy damsel in distress stereotype the majority of the student body has already given her

needless to say, Chrissy isn’t a fan of the entire student body (+ teachers) scrambling to help her and checking for injuries when she trips up the stairs and drops two papers. It’s gotten annoying

seriously I think they would roll a red carpet in front of her feet everywhere she went if given the opportunity. Chrissy is nonetheless THE most popular girl in the high school, and dating THE most popular boy. They’re a little afraid of her

little do they know she’s afraid to step on ants

had a phase where she thought chocolate milk came from chocolate cows

oh but author, didn’t we all?

not like her. Chrissy Cunningham at seven years old was ready to fight someone over her belief of chocolate cows

...and then her parents took her further west into the state on summer vacation to stay with her grandparents, and they had a farm

there were, in fact, no chocolate or strawberry cows

yeah her grandparents have a small farm. Not commercial selling, just raising their own animals for products and tiny farm life vibes

Chrissy actually really enjoyed that summer of her first grade year and asked to keep going back. And that she did

she helped her grandparents on the farm for eight more years until her grandfather died. Her grandmother had to sell the farm and move into their place in Hawkins. It was a very bad summer month for fifteen year old Chrissy

she really likes strawberry filled/flavored pastries

one of her ambitions in life is to own/manage a pastry shop

joined marching band before cheer

now I don’t know what canon has to say about this. And I really don’t give a flying hoot

I actually don’t think she and Jason were dating all that long. At least not as long as the show depicted them to be

I think they were still in their “honeymoon” phase, where everything is still so perfect during the first few months of the relationship. No arguments yet, no noticeable flaws on your partner

I think Jason was head over heels for her, and she was too. At first

then Vecna came along. She stopped feeling safe with her surroundings, hearing and seeing things, and remembering the darkest bits of her past. She was still so afraid of ruining things with Jason, that he may think smaller of her if she were to approach him with big issues, so she kept it quiet

because I certainly know I’m never fully ready to approach my S/Os with Big issues in my life. It can be intimidating to be that open to anyone, much less someone I’ve been with for only several months

and she went to Eddie as a last resort

Chrissy had grown out of the honeymoon phase and no longer felt comfortable with Jason broadcasting their relationship to the entire damn school. He couldn’t see that, and one thing led to another...

moving on

doesn’t like pizza or ranch dressing

always had flashcards on hand for school. Anyone could ask for flash cards at any moment during school time, and there she is. You get a small stack! And you get a small stack!

physically cannot come within three feet of seltzer water

is unable to keep plants alive for longer than a week

---

Chrissy Cunningham my beloved

Robin

#stranger things s4 #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #chrissy stranger things

[asomberstory]

I went to see Grandfather recently.

I showed up unannounced,

With coffee and donuts thinking

Sugar would hide the scent of guilt.

He always makes me so nervous.

You see, I was always a Grandma's kid growing up.

And although they'd been together all my life,

I never paid Grandfather much mind.

Which I'd like to think is not my fault.

Because my Grandma is magic.

And i know everyone says that about their gma.

But my Grandma's house smelled like

Sage and sounded like wind chimes.

Dream catchers twirled in the air,

As she spun to Fleatwood Mac.

My Grandma is a hippie.

A beautiful, magical, forest nymph

Floating through an Auburn sky.

Grandma could transform

Pancakes into rabbits, with a swish of her magic wisk.

I love rabbits.

But Mother can't stand them.

One time Grandma,

Used one can of spray paint

And turned her red Honda black.

I giggled in excitement.

My mother, did not laugh.

Grandma could turn yarn

Into blankets and scarfs and towels.

Mother hates yarn.

Grandma once made all of Mother's dishes disappear.

I stood silent in my amazement. Wondering how?

And why?

Mother never bothered to ask.

I do not know where Grandfather was

During all of this. Probably working.

Or sleeping or getting ready for work.

Which is why I'm here,

Sitting in the grass,

Fighting the ants off of my donuts.

Watching the sun rise in silence,

With a man, that my entire childhood,

Was silent.

I have so many questions I want to ask,

But almost none of them are about him.

The stench of guilt waffs over morning grass

And my mocha coffee, it stings my eyes

Harder than the sweat bees on my arms.

I try to speak, but my throat is seared shut

From the fire of my mind.

It does not matter anyway.

I don't think he can hear me

Through 6 feet of dirt anyway.

Mother once said

She could she's Grandma in my eyes.

And she sighed a heavy, "woe is me" type of sigh.

She does mean this as a compliment.

You see, Mother does not like Grandma.

Mother makes it a mission to tell me stories of

Grandma out drinking all night.

But my Grandmother has only ever

Turned water into lemonade.

Mother tells me of Grandma talking to

Ghosts and people in the walls,

But that is my favorite game.

Mother tells me of Grandma's

Cold calloused hands.

But Grandma is soft like clouds.

Mother says Grandma is mean.

But Nana has only ever sung in lullabies to me.

I hate my mother.

Which, unfortunately, makes me

Exactly like my mother.

I want to ask Grandfather how he met Grandma.

Nobody every talks about that, or what happened before...

Before the house, and the dream catchers,

And the magic whisks.

Mother only talks of the wedding,

And the serenity that Grandfather brought into their lives.

Mother often calls Grandfather,

"Grandma's Keeper".

I often wonder, how such a

Predictably consistent man,

Was able to tame such a,

Consistently unpredictable woman.

I wonder why I've never asked.

The guilt runs through the wind

It's almost suffocating.

I cannot help to think of Christmas,

The last one, or at least, the last real one.

Grandfather insisted we do it early.

He simply could not wait.

Grandma got a tiny desk tree, and decorated it with troll dolls.

Grandfather laughed, and jumped with joy, as we shuffled through the door.

Grandfather got out his guitar, he played,

Grandma sang, I danced,

Mother was....kind.

It was all very nice.

4 days later,

Grandfather walked out the door,

Across the street to his favorite pond,

Put a revolver in his mouth, and took his final breath.

The fire in my throat has spread to my eyes,

And i want to know why.

The fire is in my hands, as i peel the grass back,

I want him to know, that our family never

Had Christmas again. Or New Year's. Or Easter.

The night before the funeral,

My uncle gave Grandma a hand full of candy,

So she could finally sleep,

And while she rested,

Mother came to my bed and said:

"Tomorrow, you have to get Grandma dressed.

You, have to get Grandma there.

You have to sit with her and hold her hand.

Because nobody else can."

I was appointed "Grandma's Keeper"

At the ripe old age of ten.

I thought it easy then,

As I held this grieving woman's hand.

I thought it sad, and disgusting then,

How all her children hid.

I promised in that moment,

To be there with her, until the end.

Grandma moved in with us shortly after.

In that short year, Grandma changed.

Her name, her hair, her clothes, her everything.

Grandmother does not sing,

She screams —— all of the time.

Grandmother does not cook, or clean, or eat.

Grandmother only smokes and drink.

Grandmother is not magic,

But she can make make things disappear,

Like cash, and clothes, and Grandfather's tombstone, and phone numbers, and shoes, and jewelry, and often times, herself.

I fucking hate that trick.

Mother finds me crying,

In Grandmother's empty room.

She cannot hide her smile,

When she says "I told you so."

I fucking hate my Mother,

But now I hate my Grandmother too.

For leaving me with her.

Sometimes I hate Grandfather too,

For leaving me with them.

And I think, they hate me too.

I am 24 now.

I haven't seen my Mother in 5 years.

I haven't seen my Grandmother in 10.

I'll never see Grandfather again.

Guilt --- is heavy in the air.

#original #poem #poetry #writing #mine #black and white poem poetry #grief #grief poetry #grief poem #sad writing #sad story #sad poem

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 184 - Like Ants

The human mind can barely understand the true extent of a billion, and there are so many more than a billion of them. A trillion. An octillion. A quindecillion.

This is very Vast, isn't it?

Jordan knows there is no way out. No twisting, squeezing passage that promises escape, that will allow him to emerge, screaming and encrusted with filth and insect gore, to take a gasp of fresh and open air.

And this is very Buried - in fact, this feels a lot like the imagery used in The Worms

He flails, cutting his back against the ceiling, and freezes, the panicked thought gripping him, the image of those ants crawling down, into his wounds, into his skin, hollowing him out and making their colony tunnels of his veins.

Okay, that is a deeply unpleasant image and my imagination is apparently way too good.

But it is gone. His friends, the minds that he had once known so intimately, had left him. Now he sees them, moving and pulsing around him in a steady tide of tiny bodies, but he cannot reach them as once he had.

This is very Lonely - this episode apparently goes full in on the whole "all the fears came through together".

No, John Amherst was encased in concrete, and shrivelled away to nothing after just a few years.

A FEW YEARS? Don't make me feel bad for John Fucking Amherst of all people!

Jon: Yeah… I just… I don’t usually know them. Jordan Kennedy did me a favour.

Hm, I suppose it doesn't say complimentary things about Jon that the first time he actually seriously considers helping a victim of the post-apocalyptic fears is when it happens to be someone he knows. But I suppose if you can't help everyone and everyone is suffering equally horribly, you might as well pick the person who has been kind to you in the past? I would probably do the same.

Jon: Make him a vessel of your hunger, staring out and harvesting with a thousand, thousand, thousand, tiny, eager, eyes. Martin: Hang on…

That "hang on" as a reaction to realising Jon isn't about to mercy-kill the guy, he's turning him into an avatar, is kinda amusing, tbh. It's all in the delivery!

Jordan: You turned me into what? A torturer? (...) No. This isn’t… I didn’t want this. But I can’t, I can’t go back to that. I can’t.

This really rubs in the idea that in this new world there's only tormented and tormentor and those are the only options you get (well, most people don't get a choice and some people get both).

My impression of this episode

Apparently this episode left absolutely no trace in my mind from when I listened to it the first time. Which isn't all that odd, given that I found the statement somewhat forgettable. It has a few interesting ideas and I like that it incorporates imagery from multiple different fears, but then it also reuses imagery we've seen before. Then again, the conversation with Jordan and the themes it brings up are actually fascinating and I'm genuinely surprised I didn't remember that part.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

[kyloreno-911]

thaaaanks for the tag @thoseeyeslikefire

First, Last, Next and Favourite Concerts!

Tagging (as always don't feel obliged!): anyone that would like to do this

First Concert

I have a terrible memory so the year might be wrong but I think it was 2003. The local rock radio channel used to put on an annual concert at an amphitheater next to the river. It consists of a really big steep hill that goes down into a half-seated/half-standing pit area that is blocked off with fencing and it's like recessed if that makes sense. (this is important)

I saw a couple of bands but the only one I remember was Saliva. I went with two friends, my older brother, and his girlfriend at the time. We bought tickets for the steep hill area and just chilled up there most of the day. Then when it started raining and Saliva came on that night we climbed the fencing area and got into the pit area that was rapidly filling with water. I think it got up to my shins and we kicked it around and just had so much fun with it lol. I remember wearing TRIPP pants and they were absolutely waterlogged at the end of the concert while having to walk back to the car. I also woke up with so many bruises.

Last Concert

This will be a two-part- so the last show was a punk house show in June. It was small and intimate, my sister-in-law's band had an EP release party. If you are interested in her band it's House Plant, you can find them on Spotify. Their EP is called "Are You Restless?" They are really good- my favorite song is Nobel Prize.

Last big concert---fucking My Chemical Romance in September of 2022. It was so amazing, the same sister-in-law had an extra ticket so I went with her. We drank way too much, probably made fools of ourselves and MCR were tiny little ants from where we stood but OMG it was just insane. We only saw MCR because we stood in the merch line forever but really we reallllly just wanted to see MCR.

Next Concert

Ice Nine Kills!! Get to see them next week with my husband and I cannot shut up about it. Also, get to see Slaughter to Prevail & Crown the Empire so that will be fun. Falling in Reverse is headlining and I'm not that big of a fan but don't hate them so I'm sure that will still be enjoyable. I'm just so fucking excited for INK.

Favourite Concert

This doesn't really align with my preferred genre because it is folk punk/folk rock buuuuttt...

2014- Iron and Wine. I was in a tough time in life when I found Iron and Wine and at this time I was already a huge fan. My older brother surprised me with tickets. I went with my husband, sister, and older brother. At that time I was deep into agoraphobia and heavy mental illness... but I was getting out the fucking house to see motherfucken Sam Beam. I was highly uncomfortable but, it was like something changed as soon as he was on stage. That sounds dramatic but that concert was definitely a stepping stone into helping me overcome some stuff. I think we were like 15 feet from the stage and I was just awestruck. He also played Woman King and that's my favorite song from him (so much so I have it tattooed on the fronts of my ankles) and it was just one of the best nights of my life. If you haven't heard this song, it is definitely a must.

#this is a lot to read lol #tag game #concerts #also got a little too real at the end there oops

[darktalesofharperfoxx]

The Hand That Dealt The Push

It comes in waves… the thoughts.

The thoughts of being set free. The thoughts of ending it all. It all comes in waves. When I'm with people who are important to me, the ones I call friends. The ones I call family. Even when I'm doing something as joyest as eating, the thoughts.... They still come.

Sometimes I stare at myself in my bathroom mirror holding the kitchen knife the size of my forearm. Contemplating it, wondering… ”Who will miss me?... Those same friends and family!?.... What about the friends online? Facebook, Instagram, whatever else electronic addiction I can scroll through on my mobile device. Will I be missed?

I pace back and forth in my apartment sitting on the sixth floor, scrolling through social media. Stalking my electronic friends and family wondering to myself… no… saying to myself….

“How are you all, so happy!?”

The window in my apartment sometimes gives me food for thought. Everytime I look out of it, the thoughts… It comes in waves, rippling over the city I feel trapped in. When it does… He’s always there. Standing on the sidewalk a man dressed in a navy business suit, clenching a white cane in one hand, and the other behind his back standing like an elegant gentleman. His matching fedora obscures his eyes so I cannot make out his features. The first time I saw the gentleman, I could have sworn he was just a blind man, but now… I can feel that somehow… being all the way up on the sixth floor

“He can see me… No… he's watching me."

As the words whimper out of my parched lips, I can see a grin emerge from the Gentleman’s face. The hairs on the back of my neck extend on end, a tingling sensation of tiny ants race across my body. As I fight the strain that comes to my eyes, I shut them and stumble away from the window stressing my frontal lobe with my fingers. It comes in waves, the thoughts. As I slowly open my eyes to regain the sight I briefly lost, my attention strikes the window… there was the Gentleman.

Outside my window, his mere presence shattered my weak exterior. Six stories up, no fire escape. How was this man outside my window? I lose my train of thought, I lose all composure. Every breath I take puts a painful strain on my ribcage. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t try to break in, he just… stares. His white cane comfortably underneath his armpit, and right hand hidden behind his back. Then, like clockwork.

The thoughts.

When the thoughts come, his grin emerges slowly like hiding sunlight behind a field of clouds in a swamp. Looking at him I feel compelled, my body is no longer in control. Before I know it my hand is reaching up to the lock on my window, it feels like a calling. “Is it the Gentleman?”

I go against my better judgment and unlock the window, the breeze from the world beyond these walls rushes inside to take its place alongside my apartment and I. Here it is… air… I can breathe again. I let the euphoria fill my lungs as the Gentleman watches me. His posture doesn’t change, and neither does the grin peering beyond his tilted head and fedora. Then the thoughts once again come rushing in, crashing up against different emotions like rocks on the coast. As the thoughts come, his hidden hand begins to slowly expose itself to me. The Gentleman doesn’t say anything, he just extends his arm toward as if he’s lending a helping hand, his palm seems warm just looking at it.

Strange.. The cold breeze of air hits my face again, piercing through my fingertips at lightning speed. My mind isn’t scared, though I feel I should be… I'm simply no longer here. I feel free at last, "am I falling or flying?" The feelings that I had before dissipate before me. “Thoughts!?…. What thoughts?” My vision seems different now, I no longer see the walls to my apartment. The city stands horizontal before me, my cheek pressed on a cold surface. My sight sees a flow of blurry red, as I begin to fall in and out consciousness. I no longer have thoughts of my friends, my family or obligations to my many phone obsessions.

It used to come in waves… I just don’t remember what they were.

#horror #psychological horror #short story

[god-whispers]

oct 17

harvest time

"but when the grain ripens, immediately he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come." mark 4:29

i was communicating with a friend the other day.  she is an avid gardener and we talked about how we loved to watch things grow and how amazing it was.  there is a planting and there is a harvest.  "to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven." eccl 3:1

a dear friend keeps my yard for me but i like to have a few indoor plants to grow and watch the wonder of God's Word at work.  years ago i used to grow african violets because i think they are pretty.  (a former boss got me started on them.)  someone reminded me of that recently and i was enticed to order three again to grow.

i told my friend that one is very healthy and growing.  one is semi-healthy and struggling to put forth new growth.  the final one is very sickly with just a tiny blob emerging.  i told her it was on life support and i had begun talking to it and commanding it to "live," in Jesus name.  (you may think that silly but that name has all authority.)  unless i am being deceived, i think i see a tiny leaf struggling to grow.

you may ask why i am speaking so much about plants.  well the truth is we are all much like these three little violets i am attempting to grow.  of course, we all know the parable Jesus told about sowing seeds and how some prospered and some did not.  see mark, chapter four if you need refreshing.)

speaking of my violets again - the healthy one is looking good and i expect to see blooms from it before too long.  that's how "healthy" christians are too.  they may have gone through times of pruning before, but now they are walking purposefully with God and are ready to bloom and produce the fruit He wants from their lives.

then we have the semi-healthy ones.  perhaps they want to do better, to be better, but they keep getting distracted by various things.  i know we must all be diligent to perform the needed tasks, but not to the neglect of the Lord.  i have often thought before that there just wasn't time to pray.  i have since learned better.  it's amazing how God can multiply you available time when you put Him first.  time is like the parable of the loaves and fishes.  He can multiply anything.

the worry i have for these brethren is that they might be perceived by God as those who are "neither hot nor cold." ��and because of that, "so then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth." rev 10:10  i don't want that for them.  God doesn't want that for them, but He doesn't want some mealy mouthed, uncommitted christians.  He wants "choosers."  (do you remember the message i wrote about the fence?)

then we come to the sickly ones on life support.  they have believed in the grace God offers and rejoiced in it at one time.  then, perhaps slowly, they began to be deceived by the message the world was offering.  things like real love means being free to love anyone.  after all, we were given free will and just maybe we wants something different from the norm - different from God's way.  God's wants us to be happy and you just can't be happy living His way.

soon their spirit becomes calloused like tough skin on one's hands or feet.  it becomes so hardened that it mat be cut away without ant pain whatsoever.  friends, it is that pain that lets us know there is a problem; that lets us know something is wrong and danger lies ahead.

"then you returned and wept before the Lord, but the Lord would not listen to your voice nor give ear to you." deut 1:45  one cannot come to the Lord unless the Holy Spirit draws them.  perhaps He has spoken and spoken and you would not listen.  now He will not listen to you.

life support indeed.  venturing close to the firey fires of hell.  a place there is no coming back from.  "between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who want to pass from here to you cannot, nor can those from there pass to us." luke 16:26  and we're talking forever.

heavenly Father, in you great, abundant mercy i pray that you call again to those standing of the brink of eternity.  grant ears to hear, eyes to see and a truly repentant heart.  speak once again to their spirit before the plunge into that great abyss - separation from You forever.  In the name of Jesus i pray.

[bestomato]

i had a horrifying nightmare today that i just remembered . ten members of my family (including grandparents) and i visited this one fancy and ENORMOUS mall that also worked as a hotel so we were exploring it and after a while we got tired. for some reason after time passed my family wasn’t my family anymore, they were characters now (but i can’t remember who they were!!!! fuck) but i still registered them as my family for whatever reason. so we all went to the place after walking around huge corridors filled with incredibly fancy and big stores on both sides (again, the mall was huge). we went to sleep in our room later, but it wasn’t actually a room. it was just a place on the actual super high ceiling that also served as a parking lot for some reason ?? that had uncomfortable small concrete bricks to sit down or even lay down if you were lucky, which just seemed like actual irl anti-homeless architecture and, very clearly and most importantly, at the center of the area was a fully grown tree with deep soil and surrounded by a short concrete wall. i asked my family why that was our room, very confused, and they said that it was what we could afford there. So we arranged the sleeping places of everyone, took a nap in the evening for some reason, and this is where the unsettling shit comes in.

we slept the rest of that whole day, until almost afternoon of the following day. however, as if this was a videogame cutscene, i could see tiny ants approaching us all, but i was still asleep. we all woke up at the same time, horrified to find that ants had somehow found a way inside our mouths, our clothes, and every other body part you don’t want insects to be on. we were desperate to remove them, and we could in the end, after a long while, but we were absolutely frightened. we all continued our day trying to forget what had just happened, all going our separate ways to finish exploring the mall.

this is where the dream stops focusing on my pov and it changes to the rest of the family members’ pov (they were not irl people though. again i remember only one specific character, who comes into play later). for some reason they were all being chased by these creepy mysterious figures that wanted to completely erase them from existence, and they had character development and shit that i don’t remember, but i felt really attached even though i technically wasn’t there with them, as if i were watching a TV show, but it all felt very real. so some of them managed to reunite and explain that some things had been chasing them, and they decided to stay together in the hopes of keeping themselves safer. however, the beings caught the smaller groups eventually, and i knew all of this was happening thanks to my sister, who found me after lots of time spent of searching for me.

ok. for some reason my sister was therion from octopath traveler. like she looked exactly like him, but my brain registered him as my sister for no fucking reason???? i continued the dream and he explained a bit of what he understood while piecing the puzzle together, and we found another member of the family, who was another character i cannot remember. for some reason we got separated again. i remember a strange kid’s game area but also a sewer system at the same time and one of the beings there on a tube/slide was just hunting for another family member. i got separated from therion and the other character, and the pov switched to what they were seeing. they walked into a huge bright pink empty room, found my mom and dad (who were also fictional characters i can’t remember) and talked for a while, catching up to what had been happening. but then something came through a door and therion flinched, turning invisible the moment he heard it. the other family members had no chance of hiding though.

then i walked through a hallway, found the room, and heard screams inside. i opened the door out of curiosity and concern and found one of the creatures holding a fucking creepy magical chainsaw (i think????) so i panicked and shut the door. i didn’t know what to do, i just stood outside, suddenly the screams got abruptly muted? and i waited outside for what felt like an incredibly long time. when i thought it was safe i opened the door and found the room completely empty, except for therion in the corner who was just shocked and weeping. i went inside to figure out what happened.

he told me our parents were dead now because the creature found them and we were completely devastated. we noticed that on one of the walls some credits rolling were being projected as if they came from a movie. they weren’t there before. so therion and i managed to escape the mall without having anything find us, and we just walked around the streets.

i thought about me not entering college for some reason and not being able to study because how the fuck would we pay for it. i thought about bills and survival and our house and cute family scenes and this all sounds so fucking strange guys i know but i was devastated irl like i felt it subconsciously. i woke up very agitated afterwards and completely forgot this until now LOL

#blog tag #therion get out of my subconscious you aren’t my sister #tw bugs #tw insects #just in case #long post

[caress-a-sad-tree]

Summer days

When we mention summer days, what jump out from your mind? Kids laughing in the fairground? Or the ice cream with the rainbow? Seems that all beautiful memories appear. But is summer day that nice? When I am telling this story, I played from John Lennon. Please feel free to play it , while you read this sad story.

I had a old name that only my childhood-friends know, is differ with my name now. It seems that there is a force that make me feel the sadness, when I use that name, Leverrier. The sadness is a uncontrollable huge power that can suck me into a deep hole and make me too powerless to yell for help, especially when I was in the kindergarten.

Teacher convenes all kids in my class, to the playground to play games. Everyone loves it, including me, a normal kid that wanna seek for happy. We played hide-and-seek, and the kids that have been found will join the finding team. Starts with one finder. He is my friend, even though forty years makes me forget his name. When the game starts, I hide in a hole between two child-slides. At that time, I though it was brilliant and no one can be able to find me. Few minutes later, some sounds appear around me, and I hide my laugh to stay quiet. But the sounds passed, no one appear. And because my "brilliant location", I can not see their faces. The quietness and sunshine penetrate my heart from my throat. No one is here? I ask my self quietly. The sunshine break slide and form a natural gap. It hurts me, both physical and emotional. Where is the position I am in the world? Will I miss my way in whole the life-time? Are the people around me all kind of mist-person which can easily disappear? I have no idea. I then walk out from the slide. No one is there, and there are no any sounds. Only a deep bright light from the sun, directly light on me, only me. I then ask the guard about where my classmates are. He asked me about my number of class and he say that they already backed for a hour. I glare at him with full of shock. How long time have I been there? I only feel about few minutes passed. How a it be an hour? At that age, I don’t even know the word of sadness, but I suddenly know a true idea that is the sadness is a hole of time. The hole that I cannot escape, which makes me feel the powerless. A powerful but soft gravity pull on me a suck me into a hole, and suddenly I flow on the surface of honey. This kind of special feelings are still exist when I grow up. Where are these people? They all forget about me? All they are just the person of most that have no spirit to act freely. Oh! Or I am the one, who is not being detected. For these year, since I was born, I feel like I am not be detected by the world. I survived in this world, like a tiny ants, or formless air. Seems that nothings detect my sense neither existence. After this, you might say it is not even a case. But it curved on me hardly. And since that, the emptiness from my self-existence grow bigger and bigger, and it makes the person who I am now. We all hate to admit a powerless of human beings, but it is true that even some little things can change our life entirely. The loneliness I felt, begin with this summer, in the kindergarten time, when the sunshine has broke the slides and penetrated my backbone.

[imrisah]

This game is so damn pretty

Screenshots from Assassin’s Creed Origins

#assassin's creed origins #long post #spaghetti rant #assassin's creed #i'm so far behind in this game cause i spend 50% of the time in photo mode #i'm not even joking #also to give you a scale of the pyramids bayek was on top of the big one when i took the screen #you cannot see him he's a tiny ant #sixth picture