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lcriedlastnight · 24 days

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lost the breakup | charles leclerc

○tw: alcohol, swears, charles is a proper dick, silly reader, this is the most angsty thing over ever wrote. to celebrate charles win today!○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 4.3k of pure hell.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"this would be so much easier without you!" it felt like those words flitted around your brain in a loop ever since that night in charles' flat. you hadn't intended it to turn into a massive fight, all you said was you couldn't wait for summer break to finally spend some time with your boyfriend. but seemingly that was all it took for charles to go off on one, roaring at you as if you had actually done something wrong.

you had stood, staring at the man after he had stopped ranting about how being with you only brought him down and how life before you was much easier on him. you couldn't believe that was actually what he thought of your relationship. i mean it wasn't perfect, but who's was? all that you thought mattered was that you tried to make each other happy, and up until today you had thought that you were succeeding in that, clearly not.

"do you mean that?" there was an obvious wobble in your voice that you had tried to disguise but it didn't matter, charles didn't care anyways. you knew that now.

all it took for you to scramble to find somewhere new was that singular nod of his head. you knew he wasn't sure if he meant it but he nodded. he fucking nodded. you could've forgiven him if he took it all back then and there, he didn't even have to beg for your forgiveness you would've just given him it. but he didn't. you didn't mean as much to him as he did to you and he had made that oh so clear tonight. so you did what any sane person would do, you grabbed a pair of shoes and a jacket and left. a part of you thought that maybe he had said all that just to get a rise out of you and to create a fight between the two of you, for whatever reason? you didn't know but you had a nagging feeling that was why he did it. or maybe your brain was just trying to soften the blow of your boyfriend secretly despising you for god knows how long.

so yeah, that was how you ended up rotting in your bed. at this point you really shouldn't still care about him anymore but your heart refused to let him go. and it annoyed you so much. how was it fair that you sat here mourning your relationship and what it could've been while he was out there winning grand prix's and clubbing every other night, seen with a different girl every single time. while he was out picking up girls you were picking up your heart, that had gone straight in the journal as soon as you had thought it.

the fans had realised something was up by the second day of your breakup. you hadn't even collected all of your things from his yet and they were already trending you both on twitter. it honestly felt like the last thing you needed right now but you smiled through the pain and tried to make your instagram feel as normal as possible until charles put up a statement about it, so that you could too. then you could finally put this relationship to rest.

being with charles had given you a following of sorts of your own and you felt like you owed them something, seeing as they only liked you because you were dating- used to date charles. your best friend and current roommate (for the time being, seeing as you were living with charles full time before the breakup) jess had told you millions of times that they were just random strangers and you didn't owe them anything. it never eased the weight you felt though.

one night after the third night in a row of summer break (that very same summer break that you were longing to spend with charles) that charles was out and had been pictured taking some random girl home was the night where jess had tried to snap you out of it.

"i think it hurts more that literally none of them look like me? like if any of them resembled me at least i would know that he missed me, even a little bit. even if it was subconscious, you know?" you had ranted, staring holes into your phone that had showed you the dreaded pictures of the three girls who all looked alike in regards to each other but nothing like you. in fact they were the complete opposite of you in every single way.

jess had swiped your phone off of you and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"look, you technically broke up with him but it doesn't matter. he clearly doesn't care so why the fuck should you?" ever so blunt, jess was.

"i don't mean to be mean, you know that. i mean this in the nicest way possible but you have to get over yourself. this isn't the end of the world as much as it feels like it. the world has continued to spin this past week and it will continue to do so no matter what so you need to get up and live your life. you're wasting your emotions on a man who literally doesn't care whether you live or die at this point."

although it was filled to the brim with all the shit you didn't want to hear, jess knew exactly what you needed and she gave you the wake up call you had been needing since that night. that night she helped you wash your bed sheets and tidy your room up, moving the furniture while blasting taylor swift's breakup songs. jess was still letting you grieve the relationship because she knew better than anyone, that you can't just hear one inspiring speech and finally stop caring about him. even though she knew that you would stop caring sooner rather than later with the way he was acting.

★・・・・・・★

"you better not wear that skirt with those heels!" jess' girlfriend, hailey had shouted over the thrumming bass of someone's getting ready playlist. you weren't too sure who's it was but you knew for certain it was not the usual music that was played in the flat.

'the inchident' (which you thought was a particularly cruel play on words) had happened almost a month ago and jess had invited your closest friends for a night out in monaco. as well as her girlfriend, she had also invited sophie, probably your second best friend.

"why?" sophie asked back, brows down as she moves the skirt in her hands, looking for an issue with it. "it looks good, no?". three shakes of heads are her answers.

"soph it looks so fugly." jess said, trying to pull on a pair of doc martens. you had burst out laughing at that and it had set everyone else off too. you knew pre-drinks were a great idea. the group had already taken three shots already and for a lightweight like you, this was the perfect state to go to the club like. drunk enough that the night seemed endless, plus you would save a fortune on drinks while you were there too, seeing as you were almost on your way to being absolutely smashed. exactly what you needed after this past month.

as you all clamber into the taxi to take you to the club, the group chatters with each other while jess is chatting away to the driver. she got so talkative when she had alcohol in her system. the ride to the club wasn't long so when you all arrive and after you had all given about a million thank you's to the driver you head into the club.

you and sophie find a table to sit at while jess and hailey head in the direction of the bar, hailey offering to buy the first round in celebration of you finally going out with them for the first time in months.

in the taxi ride over, sophie was telling you all about the boy she was speaking to and how he may or may not be a famous athlete. after a joke or two from you about watching what she's getting into she tells you that she had been on a few dates with him and they were days away, as she put it, from becoming official. with all of this in mind you still had no idea why, when you were both on the hunt for a free table, scouring around the very back of the club, she suddenly stops in her tracks, grabs your arm and turns to face you. the poor girl looked like she was about to pass out. surely she hadn't had that much to drink already, you had just gotten here, you had thought to yourself before she spoke up.

"that's him! he's here?!" sophie whisper shouts as she kind of just stands there, almost like shes lagging. you look at her, confusion plastered all over your face.

"who? who's here?" you ask her. it's easy to tell she is annoyed at your question but she's much too preoccupied to tell you off for it in her usual sophie manner. like her fight or flight kicks in at that very moment she suddenly pulls you towards the large booth filled with people, seemingly all men but maybe a few girls from what you could make out. it was actually really dark in this part of the club.

"my man." the blonde girl whispers to you like it was obvious, nothing was obvious to you when you were sober never mind this tipsy. you recognise a man at the end of the row but it doesn't sink in your muddled brain until you are standing directly in front of near enough half of the grid.

you stand like a deer in headlights as it clicks in your brain. the weight of a thousand busses suddenly weighing down on your chest. oh this was so not good. you hadn't looked to see if he was here but did you really need to? it seemed like he was going out at any chance he could find since the two of you last spoke. you avert your attention to sophie who was standing very closely to the man at the edge, who you now could see what carlos. you had no idea that was who she was talking about.

you hear someone in front of you call your name, one of the drivers, maybe lando? he had always been nice to you any time you and charles went out together and ran into him. you don't reply, not that you get the chance to because an arm is gripping yours from behind and at first you swear your heart falls right to the ground and is so very close to taking you with it but you look over and see it was only jess and hailey with your drinks. this was not how tonight was supposed to go.

jess says something you can't hear to sophie and the blonde nods back before you feel your best friend pulling you away from the table. you still feel frozen as she drags you to a free table you and sophie must have missed on your own hunt. you felt like you were having an out of body experience. there was no fucking way in hell that just happened. no way he was here. why couldn't he just let you have this one night to yourself without ruining it? he had already ruined your life, what else does he want?

hailey slides you your drink of choice and heads back up to the bar to order another, knowing you'll need it. jess could see the look in your eyes even if you couldn't feel it yet. what stage of grief was this you were in now? because all you wanted to do was to get the ground to swallow you whole. maybe depression. jess' soft voice pulls you out of your daze.

"hey, drink it. i'm not encouraging drinking to numb your feelings but tonight is not the night to deal with whatever the fuck that was." jess says, her voice as comforting as she could make it. you really appreciated it so you downed your drink and waited for hailey to come with your next.

"we'll process this tomorrow but tonight, we drink." hailey says as she returns. you swear you hear her curse sophie under her breath as you drink. you didn't blame sophie though, she didn't know he would be there and clearly didn't think before she acted. you think that maybe hailey and jess are mad at her now. great, another thing in your life falling apart. you were so getting shitfaced tonight.

the drinks blended into one another as you danced with your friends after sophie had joined you, after promising to carlos she would leave with him.

you were swaying to one of your favourite songs when carlos come over to distract sophie, you just smiled at the two 'couples' that surrounded you. even if there was a clear favourite, nothing against carlos but c'mon. it was jess and hailey. speaking of they had signalled to tell you they were off to join the long line for the toilets. they had asked of you wanted to come but you didn't need to pee so you said no. you should've went though, you probably would need to pee by the time you got to the front of the line but your drunk brain was not in the mood for rational thinking.

that's why when a man slides his arms around you don't protest it and instead lean into him. it had nothing to do with the familiar scent flooding your nose or the hums you heard every single night in your sleep, nope. nothing to do with that twat.

"This one is your favourite, no?" his accent fills your ears and you can literally feel the tension from the past month ease out of you. you lean further into charles as you sway a little to the beat. you were far too drunk to dance properly, the way you were when you first stepped foot onto the dance floor.

"mhm." you nod as your hands slide down to rest on his clasped ones, which were holding your stomach to keep you close, you hoped. charles moves his head to right behind your ear, just so you can hear him better. there was no way he didn't hear or even feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his breath on your ear. if you weren't this plastered then you would be so embarrassed at how easily you let charles do this again. you could even hear the rational part of your brain screaming at you, asking you what you were doing but you could barely even see at this point so of course you ignored it in favour of being the girl in his arms again.

"then why'd all your friends leave you, sweetheart?" charles asks, it feels teasing and maybe even a little mocking but there is no way you would be able to tell the difference in this state, so you just respond, dumbly. "they went to pee."

charles laughs in your ear and it sends goosebumps throughout your body and puts a sappy grin on your face. you hadn't heard his laugh in a while and it felt so good to hear it again. it felt like home to you and god had you been homesick.

you would've done anything the man asked you to when you were like this, well maybe sober too but when you were sober you would've definitely put up more of a fight about doing it. maybe charles was taking advantage of this as he practically moves you both to the next song that plays. it's a good job that jess and hailey come back when they do because you would've done anything for him. it felt like he actually wanted you again. you had missed him like this and here he was acting like he couldn't get enough of you. every part of you hoped to remember this in the morning as both girls pulled you away from his grasp (without any fight from charles, which told the girls everything they needed to know) and took you home, without as much as a goodbye to sophie. safe to say she was not going to be invited round again after tonight.

the next morning consisted of waking up at three pm with the sorest headache you think you've ever experienced and a blurry memory. turns out your hoping and praying last night had worked because the only thing you can remember is the way charles held you. the words he said weren't one hundred percent clear but god if this didn't set you back three weeks. jess was furious with sophie and hailey had literally cut her off in every single way possible. jess tells you over dinner that night that hailey had blocked sophie last night when you had gotten home and it did make you laugh but now you had to mourn the end of two relationships. you knew it was for the better but it still killed you, ripped you apart from the inside.

the thing that hurt you most was charles. you reflect on it in the shower after dinner. he knew how drunk you were and he still came over, clearly because he knew it was the only time you would let him back in without any fight. did that mean he missed you like you missed him? or was he just doing it because he could, showing you (a drunk you, mind you but still you nonetheless) that no matter what he still had his claws in you? your questions were answered as you scrolled through a gossip page and seen that charles left with another girl who looked nothing like you last night. you really had to stop looking through those pages, it did nothing but bring you down.

★・・・・・・★

nothing prepared you from the instagram dm from the quiet australian mclaren driver about another month after the club incident. he had never really spoken to oscar a lot before back when you were a regular in the paddock but it was still super nice to hear from him. it didn't mean you were prepared for him to ask you if you wanted paddock passes to be guests of mclaren at the next race. when you had asked what you had done exactly to deserve this gift, oscar had responded with 'i know your birthday is coming up and i also know how much you love f1'. you cried to jess before texting him back that you would take them. he was such a lovely boy.

you knew how bad ferrari were doing because you were an f1 fan way before you had even met charles so you of course kept up with the sport even after the breakup. even though it killed you to see his face on the screen. and you would never admit this to anyone, not even jess but seeing ferrari do so badly did make your heart ache for charles.

a few days before the race jess takes you shopping to find the outfit that makes charles beg for you back just so you can let him down harshly. her words of course, you would never even think that. as much as he's hurt you there wasn't a bone in your body that wanted to hurt him in return.

"i'm not drinking today, or tonight." you inform jess as you enter the paddock, the cameras immediately snapping in your face. you had not been in the eyes of the media for a good few months and now coming back to this made you feel dizzy but you powered through it because you had missed attending races so much. you found yourself beating up past you for not appreciating the privilege you had, getting to attend all those races.

"mhm, sure you aren't." jess doesn't even try and entertain you. you roll your eyes at her words.

"we both know what happened the last time alcohol and a certain ferrari driver mixed and i, for one, don't feel like going back down that road again." you try to make a joke out of it you're sure it would've worked if it was anyone but jess, she knows you far too well.

oscar greets you not long after and has the audacity to thank you for accepting his invite, he was literally the sweetest boy who's ever walked the earth and jess was sure to let him know of that fact. it left him with a big grin and rosy cheeks.

you and jess both cheer on the mclaren cars, which you have to admit, was one of the weirdest things about the full experience. you couldn't help but let your eyes wander to the red of the ferrari cars every now and then. you will your eyes to shift in the opposite direction every time. no way was anyone catching you lacking today, not on jess' watch that was for sure.

lando and oscar end up both on the podium so it was a great finish for the papaya team. oscar comes over with lando this time, after the podium and they both thank you and jess for coming again and this time you give them both swety, champagne covered hugs, unaware of the eyes peering into your soul.

said boy catches you on your way out, again when you're alone while jess makes a quick pitstop at the bathroom. you were hanging around across the hall, waiting for her to come out.

"hey, didn't know you still came to races." charles tries to make casual conversation with you. like the months you two were together didn't mean anything and like he hadn't just used you as a player in his game when you were hammered last month. this man has no dignity you swear. you had thought a few nights after the night out at the club that night.

"oscar asked me." you take a page out if jess' book and stick to the blunt responses. you knew you had moved on from the boy in front of you because as soon as he made his way over you weren't nervous or excited, you were annoyed. it made you feel happy and a little healed. charles seems surprised at your bluntness so he cuts to the chase.

"i miss you." he utters your name. "i miss you so much. i keep dreaming about us, and every morning, it feels like I've lost you all over again." you don't even look in his eyes to see if he's telling the truth. you used to be able to read him for filth, like he was your favourite book that you had read and re-read a million times, a book you had scribbled all your thoughts onto. now he just feels like a book you used to love when you were a child and as much as it helped shape you into the person you are now, you have new favourites now, that you read over and over and write inside, for someone else to read your thoughts and feelings.

you do though, see it hitting charles that you won't let him walk all over the top of you anymore. you see it register on his face and he makes a move to leave you be. maybe the you from a few weeks ago would've cried at the thought of this happening but whatever has happened to you in the past couple week has helped you grow mentally and helped you know your worth. charles walks away without so much as a goodbye, and you hope it kills him.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 angst #charles leclerc angst #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lcriedlastnight

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yournightmary · 3 months

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Streamer!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of getting hurt

AN:: Another headcannons, who would’ve thought? Streamer!Ellie was literally the reason I started writing. Enjoy :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who started streaming as a joke. Jesse was already a streamer and he constantly said she’d be good at it, so why not?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who at first had such a shitty setup. No webcam, mic barely working and her PC couldn’t handle minecraft with shaders.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who randomly went from 30 viewers average to almost 10k one day. Just blew up overnight.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets canceled at least once a week. She just says dumb shit without thinking and has to apologize after. and people are just fucking weird.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who lives off of snacks and won’t eat a proper meal if you don’t cook anything. She’s just always on that grind😎🔥

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who’s entire personality on camera is just a character. Screams and throws herself off of her chair on camera but goes non verbal every time she’s in private.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who mostly streams games, especially minecraft & fortnite. She might make an irl stream once in a blue moon, but don’t expect it to be good.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who loves her community and wants to talk to them more often but always ends up swearing and arguing with random people in chat.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets copyright strikes and warnings from twitch admins almost every stream. Most of the times she doesn’t even know what she did wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who keeps your relationship a secret. She’s scared you’d get a ton of hate. (You would) ((Streamer fanbases are awful))

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who buys the most random things she can ‚for the lulz’. Whether it’s for her streaming room or bedsheets, she’s buying the weirdest option. (This made me think of her)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who is definitely a hey mamas girl.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who majorly fucked up and showed her personal instagram account (with your pictures) by accident. Her following went up by 10k almost instantly and she ended up deleting it:/

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who after that mistake took a hiatus for almost 3 weeks. I mean- logged out of every account she had and didn’t check any socials for that time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who came back to streaming thinking she’d get all the hate in the world but people were just joking that ‚she’s too much of a loser to have a pretty girlfriend’.

they were also surprised she was lesbian. She never talked about her private life on stream, not even once.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ In my mind she’s the female version of 2019/2020 Quackity. Is he still relevant? idk

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who jokes about selling feet pics and bath water a little too often for your liking.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who once did a handstand for a 100 bucks. Ended up breaking her arm in two places and she couldn’t play games for almost two months.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets hurt on stream so often she got flagged for self harm. Apologized on twitter though:)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who definitely thinks loud=funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who finds out she’s in some kind of drama every single time she opens twitter. It’s always for something stupid too, like saying she’d win in a fight against some random streamer and their fanbase gets pissed.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who feels bad about having nice things so she just buys you a ton of gifts. Gotta spend that streamer money somehow🤑

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who showed you on stream once and the chat went crazy. People made edits of the 10 seconds you were on screen. Ellie watched all of them.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams cutting her hair every few months. She says ‚she’s cooking’ while chat drags her through mud.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams so much she started saying ‚chat’ in real life, even when she’s alone. Always gets embarrassed about it and apologizes.

Can you tell I was a dsmp kid during quarantine?

#the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcannons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #lesbian #wlw #ellie williams

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didyoulookforme · 25 days

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Hiiiiiii B my dear

Ik you’ve considered writing ffm threesome and I had a crazy random thought but

Stylist AU! girlie, Matty, and also his makeup artist girl all having a night together…

-Belle <3 mwah mwah mwah

warning: smut thoughts. half-baked rambles.

this would happen the day of a large promotional photoshoot. one of those special occasions where you get to style the whole band and, because of all the work, management decides to hire extra staff, including the makeup artist.

from the start, it’s so damn obvious that her and matty have met prior. arms often around each other, even if for just a split second. her laughing at every one of his sometimes-very-bad jokes. him looking up at her as she dabs black glittery, eyeshadow on his lid. they must’ve fucked before because you know that shit eating grin all too well.

you keep occupied by making sure all four of them are handsomely dressed and proper. not really wanting to dwell on the fact that you felt embarrassedly jealous due to a man who you do fancy, but spends too many nights between other women’s legs.

and your jealously is reason enough to join them at matty’s request, him caught off guard at your non-hesitant answer when he cheekily suggests let’s go have some fun tonight. you know the insinuation of his words given that you also know he sleeps with more than one girl at times. but even if you are doing it because of your envy, it doesn’t stop you from wondering how he’d react if you were one of those girls.

well, turns out he enjoys the hell out of it. you swear you’ve never seen him that desperate, so much that clothes were off within five minutes of stepping into his hotel room. not even making it to the bed before hands and mouths are all over each other. his cock is red and angry, precum leaking against the trail of hair on his belly, making your mouth water and almost not wanting to share him with anyone. it was too late for that, though.

you’d be lying if you didn’t admit the situation was overwhelming. but it’s all made better when he holds you, back against his chest so he can keep you close and try melt the nerves away. promise i’ll take care of you, baby. that’s pretty much all it takes for you to let go, feeling as his hands travel up and down your body to wash away any remaining doubt of your actions.

time stops when she asks if she can eat you out, both of them noticing as you clench your legs together to remain standing, automatically turning to look at him as if to ask for permission. his pupils blown with lust and he can’t help but kiss you, whispering an only if you want to on the corner of your mouth. you can only nod and feel his smile grow against the back of your neck. that’s my good girl.

it doesn’t take long for matty to find a seat at the edge of the bed, bringing you over so you’re riding him while you are facing away, his arms guiding your hips back and forth on him. the angle makes you see stars, feeling every single inch of him inside you as his tip continuously hits that spot that makes you moan uncontrollably. then you all but scream when her mouth finally finds your clit. matty wraps his arms around your waist to keep you from falling forward as your body trembles from head to toe. it’s all too much and not enough at the same time, wanting this to last all night long but knowing well enough that you’d be lucky if you didn’t orgasm within the next couple of minutes.

her tongue circles and flicks against you, while his hips keep a steady pace, thrusting into you with incredibly ease as the mixture of your cum and her spit makes everything wet and messy. and it’s when you see his fingers tangle in her hair, keeping her head steady so you can get her yourself off, that your release instantly takes over you, feeling it in every single cell of your body. so much more intense that you’ve ever felt before that the clenching around his cock makes him cum too, spilling every bit of himself inside you as he mindlessly stutters praises to secretly thank you for being his, my sweet girl always making your heart swell and break at the same time.

and you thought it couldn’t possibly get better than that, but oh, you are so wrong. that image of him lying down, tan skin a stark contrast against the white linen… her turn to fuck herself on him at the same time he asks you to ride his face… it is nothing short of heavenly. seeing his fucked out expression under you, eyes never veering away from yours. his chin glistening with your sweetness, his moans vibrating around your overstimulated clit trying his best to hold on so he can make you cum at the same time again…

it is fucking perfect <3

#not sure if this makes sense but i fear i might pass out if i were to write a whole thing about them lol #i apologize in advance for any typos and errors #give me a moment #stylist au #gmam #gmam asks #ilysm belle

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godihatethiswebsite · 5 months

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Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 6 - Just a nice relaxing boat ride

So this one is a bit long guys ^^; To give you an idea, part 5 had a little over 2k words... and this one has over 9k. I swear, it was like every time I thought I was almost finished I went back in and added a little bit more.

I tried figuring out a way that I could cut it in half and not disrupt the flow of everything, but there just really wasn't a good spot for me to do it in so I'm just opting to leave it as is. It's also why this took me a couple days to finish so please forgive the wait.

Also I'm slowly but surely getting the hang of making everything aesthetically pleasing so bare with some of the changes going on with my blog!

You shuffled down the corridors of the ferry, giving polite smiles and nods to the individuals you darted past with Kyle trailing hot on your heels. On a boat that size there were only about fifty or so people in total - passengers and crew included. The trip was long enough to require a place to lay your heads down for the night, having secured as decent accommodations as you could for a vessel meant for commoners.

By the time you reached your stay rooms, you paused to find the door to your quarters already swung ajar. You didn't have time to process that entirely as your cousin brushed past you to take the lead, footsteps quiet as he dared a glance inside. His shoulders relaxed considerably as he took up watch leaning against the door frame. Whatever he found inside didn't seem worry him, but it certainly had you on alert once you heard a rustling noise coming from within.

Kyle halted you from taking your intended step further just outside the door with his hand up, eyes cutting sideways to give you a look at the huff you gave before returning to tracking whoever was rattling around inside your room. He lowered his hand and stepped to the side out of the doorway the same time John appeared from your room, flashing you an easy grin. "It's all yers, hen."

He placed a gentle hand on your arm as he maneuvered past you back into the hall, going one door down and to the left as he disappeared into what you assumed was the room the two men would be staying the night in. You gave your cousin a look of confusion as he ushered you inside, giving his own cursory glance around while you walked over to your awaiting luggage left at the foot of your bed.

The space was nothing to gawk at certainly; no finery of silken sheets or elegantly crafted mahogany furniture. It was a far cry from the abodes you'd spent your comfortable life in, but the modest quarters would be more than plenty for a single evening. You weren't highbrow enough to turn your nose down just because this wasn't the Mauretania.

"Is there a reason you just let a strange man root around my quarters, cousin?" You inquired while unlatching the trunk, beginning the process of unpacking and sorting out your belongings.

"Just precautions, dolly." He replied as he came to a stop in front of the modest sized dresser in your room, leaning back against it with his hands tucked in his pockets while he watched you flitter about putting things away in their proper places. "Didn't want you coming in here first to find an even stranger man waiting for a sweet doe-eyed thing like yourself to gobble up. Would have done it myself if MacTavish hadn't beaten me to it."

It gave you pause in the middle of the room as his words sunk in, clutching a small bag of toiletries. There wasn't anything even remotely admonishing in what he spoke, but you hadn't quite considered the possibility in your inexperience.

You were used to a certain way of living, full of servants and chaperones caring for your person. If you had need of something in a part of town deemed unsuitable for a lady such as yourself then you simply sent someone else along to run the errand for you. You'd been born fortunate enough that you hadn't had to lift a finger for anything you didn't want to. The 'real world' was a far cry different. Many a lower class woman had to be on guard for things you'd never had to imagine. It was just a small example comparatively, but the realization caught you uncomfortably unaware.

Despite that, there was a slight warmth in your chest at the thought that your newest traveling companion was chivalrous enough to look out for your well-being.

"Oh. Of course." You tried to brush it off with a small smile as you continued on your way into the attached lavatory beyond, placing the few items you brought with on the porcelain vanity. "I'll be more cautious in the future then, shall I?"

Kyle was waiting for you outside the door once you entered back into the bedroom, giving you a look akin to the kind your father used on you often when gently correcting you as a child, tone full of empathy and understanding. "Hey."

His hands landed on your shoulders, applying gentle grounding pressure that had you releasing a small sigh. "Aunt and uncle raised you to never have to worry about the kind of life the two of us," he nodded his head towards the other room where John was likely getting settled, "have experienced. This is a lot to take in for your first time out amongst the common folk. And it will take time. But there's nothing wrong with your naivety. Everyone has to start somewhere, yeah?"

He was right. Of course he was right. It was no different than the first time you picked up a book and were immediately confused by the jumble of hieroglyphics on the page. There might not have been a helpful dictionary on a shelf nearby teaching you how to navigate this new challenge (unfortunately), but you had a helpful guide in your cousin who wouldn't lead you astray.

"So don't you go worrying your pretty little head, dolly." He added with a lighthearted tone and an affectionate pinch to your chin, glad to see some of that self-consciousness ease from your expression. "You've got two strapping young lads keeping an eye out for you and helping you every step of the way. You'll be a proper adventurer before you know it."

He left you in peace after that, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy as you resumed your task of getting the room situated for your brief stay, hanging up your clothing in the provided wardrobe to keep them from wrinkling too terribly much and placing your odds and ends on the nightstand. You hummed a favored song as you busied yourself, feeling a bit more optimistic about your endeavor than you did when you'd arrived.

The plan for the first leg of the journey was to follow the river upstream until you reached the port city of Abydos, then essentially catch a caravan heading west into the desert until John said stop. The ferry ride would take the better part of two days to arrive at your destination, leaving plenty of time to kick back and sight-see until the real work begins.

You'd wandered out onto the promenade deck once you'd finished getting your room all sorted, leaning against the guard rail as a fresh breeze blew in off the bow. The ferry had left port not twenty minutes prior, but already the landscape had shifted into something only vaguely familiar.

You had not explored all of Cairo in the time you spent living there. It was nice to see the variations of Egypt's different cultures and ethnicities all converging upon the banks of the river. Arab, Muslim, and western elements weaved together along the shoreline. At the narrower points of the Nile when the ferry made way for a larger vessel, you could hear all manner of languages being spoken by merchants and fishermen on the docks; Arabic, Masri, Nobiin, Siwi, even the rare Armenian. You only speak the first two, but have heard enough of the others to at least identify the differences.

You imagined how these shores would have looked thousands of years ago at the height of the Egyptian empire - tall colorful sails as far as the eye can see anchored with the promise of freshly acquired goods, lighthouses dotting the coastline beckoning sailors home, large extravagant vessels belonging to the Pharoah's navy crucial for safeguarding these waters. The Nile has always been the lifeblood of the kingdom, the true source of power in the region with all that it provided for the people. He who controls the ports controls Egypt herself.

Much of the old architecture had been torn down centuries ago, new cities built on top of the foundations of the previous with none to bat an eye at the histories lost. You needn't look far to find an archaeologist digging at something long buried by layers of sand and dirt. Hell, if we had to stop construction every time we found relics underground of societies past then there'd be nowhere safe to build anything.

A stray fisherman's boat glides up alongside yours, an aging man with expressive lines around his eyes glancing up at the ferry floating past and spotting you leaning against the rail. He shouts something up at you in a Nobiin dialect you don't speak, but you offer him a bright smile and a wave he happily returns, steering his small craft out of your way and continuing on to wherever his destination lies.

For a moment, the peace you felt is interrupted by a tall man in a dark suit strolling along behind you, causing you to unconsciously tighten your grip on the rail until he was safely out of your periphery. You'd learnt a gentle lesson this morning that you were out in a world you didn't know the rules of. It was odd how you'd spent so much of your life being trained to enter into the machinations of society, yet here surrounded by working class people you felt more unprepared than ever. This boat was not filled with ladies giggling into their teacups and gentlemen enjoying their brandy; there was no grand dining hall or stately gatherings that called for decorum.

This was the 'wild west' as aptly demonstrated by the cowboys who'd kindly tipped their hats to you as you'd passed them by in the hall during boarding. That meant being aware of your surroundings and keeping even the pleasantest of company at arms length.

You'd abandoned your spot out on the promenade shortly after the sun hit its peak, venturing below decks when the bell was rung for mid-day meal. The ferry was small enough that you took lunch with the crew, grateful for your cousin's escorting hand on your lower back once he met back up with you, John's presence not far behind.

It was hard not to feel incredibly out of place once you'd sat down at a long cafeteria table and had a chance to take stock of the company around you, surprised to see only one other woman out of the whole crowd. Even she felt wildly different from you, dressed in similar western garb to the cowboys you saw hours earlier she was accompanying. You stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison, digging into the small but filling meal provided at a speed normally frowned upon in an effort to not stick around longer than necessary. You were aware of Kyle and John engaging in conversation next to you, but you were focusing too much on the food in front of you to pay any real attention to the subject. Kyle tried including you in their talks, but they must've picked up on your iffy mood and kept the chatter amongst themselves.

You spent a decent amount of time after that in your quarters (save supper time), nose buried in a book about some recent archaeological discovery until well after light stopped streaming in through your porthole. Feeling a bit restlessness from spending so much time in one attitude, you wandered out into the hall in search of your cousin for company, frowning at his empty room and making your way back upstairs.

The atmosphere up here was far more jovial, men crowded around tables smoking cigars and trying not to spill their tumblers over a handful of cards. This felt more familiar, reminiscent of your late father's evenings in the smoking room entertaining his guests with a couple rounds of poker. You weren't allowed in except at bedtime for a kiss goodnight. But on the rare occasion, you were allowed to stay seated on his lap. His 'good luck charm', he called you.

The scent of tobacco smoke had an oddly calming effect on you as you rounded a table housing your cousin and the three Americans, your sociable side starting to shine through again.

"I hope you aren't gambling away your inheritance." Your hand came to rest on the back of Kyle's chair as you stepped up beside him, taking in the empty glass next to him and the looseness of his shoulders. Your words were meant in good fun, but you made a mental note to keep an eye on his consumption. That likely wasn't the first scotch he's had tonight.

"Why use mine when I've got yours?" Came the cheeky reply, one that garnered him a chuckle from his companions and a light smack on the shoulder from you.

"You'll be happy to know, ma'am, that he's currently taking my partner here for every piece of copper he has." A dark skinned man with glasses spoke up, giving his friend a hearty slap on the back that had the other man sputtering out his drink.

"Well in that case, I best stick around to make sure my cousin here stays sober enough to keep it that way, shouldn't I?" You slide the half empty bottle of alcohol away from your cousin with a knowing look, receiving a relaxed shrug in response.

Yeah, definitely three glasses in.

"Do you happen to play, sweetheart?" The one who's apparently losing the hardest inquires while the woman at the table deals in a new hand.

"Not something I learned in etiquette class I'm afraid." Kyle had tried to teach you at one point, but you'd done miserably every time and he'd quickly abandoned the endeavor.

"Ah, we got us a true English high-born lady here fellas. Think we're much too outclassed for someone like yourself."

"Don't worry. She's already done that job for me." Gesturing over to the woman in question with a grin, the boys break out in laughter as their female companion tips her glass at you in respect.

"Well now, can't be havin' a lady standing at attention all night." The dark skinned man gets up off his chair and turns around to the table behind him, tapping a man on his shoulder with a sharp whistle and a 'beat it' that has him scrambling away. Positioning the chair between him and Kyle, he pulls it out for you with a respectful "ma'am" as you slide into the offered seat.

"Nice to see the men in America are still being brought up properly," you teased with a coquettish smile, folding your hands on your lap as the man sat back down.

"Just because we're men of the earth don't mean our mama's didn't raise us to be gentlemen. Speaking of which, I'm afraid we've lost our manners. Name's Darnell Hutchinson. This here's Osmond Ryan," he nods to the man next to him before gesturing across the table, "and that one over there is Rozlin Helms."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now then, shall we see how you fare when you 'put your money where your mouth is'?"

You enjoyed yourself a great deal more than you originally anticipated, banter flowing between the five of you easily as the night continued on. Roz in particular was a delight as the two of you ganged up on the other three men, glad to have some female company if only for a little bit. Kyle played quite well, though he did better once you'd refilled his glass with water instead of whiskey. Oz had to tap out after a few more hands, but Hutch was giving him a run for his money.

At some point your other travelling companion made his rounds above deck, stopping by the table. He'd unbuttoned the top of his shirt since last you'd seen him, looking just as casual as the others were after hours. You caught a brief suggestion of dark hair underneath, taking a sip of water and averting your gaze back to the cards being played.

"Ah, MacTavish!" Kyle called out once he noticed the man in question. Maybe you'd need to make him hydrate a little more still. "Care to join us for a hand of poker? Could use some backup with these yanks since this one here isn't any help." He added with a playful bump to your shoulder, eliciting a small giggle from you at his antics.

"No thanks, lads. Ah only gamble wit' mah life, never mah money."

"Well your buddy here seems to think ya'll are gettin' to Hamunaptra before we do. So what's say you and I make a little wager 'bout that?"

You frowned at your cousin who had the nerve to look normal at this drop of information. When had this come up? Certainly not since you'd been at the table. Was he really already that deep in his glass by the time you'd arrived that he was spilling your secrets?

John's grin turned tight lipped in response while still trying to play it cool. "That right? How're ye so sure the place even exists? Fer all ye ken we're jus' a couple 'o crazies ourselves."

"Our man Klaus, that's who." Oz points over at a gruff looking man with an impressive beard. "Bit unorthodox of a man, but he's smart as a whip. Fortunately we've also got a guy who's confirmed it's existence. Been there himself in fact. So looks like you three aren't so crazy after all."

You thought you'd gotten lucky stumbling into John when you did. What are the odds there were more people running around who'd seen the lost city? Surely they were bluffing.

Thankfully, this time Kyle was smart enough to keep his mouth shut on the subject.

"So what says you?" Hutch attempts to egg him on again, "Give ya something a little more interesting than just bragging rights."

John let's a wicked grin cross his face, one I'm sure feels quite at home on him. "Alright, lads. Since yer so eager ta part wit' yer coin ah guess ah could lighten yer pockets for ya."

"Hundred bucks?" Roz offers up with a smirk to sweeten the deal.

"Done."

You were surprised he'd agreed, but then again it's not like they knew just how evenly matched you actually were. Otherwise you don't think they'd have put the pot so big.

"Ah'll be lettin' ye get back ta yer game then. Garrick, lass." He nodded at the pair of you in turn before disappearing off to some corner of the ferry again - not like you'd seen him for anything other than meals yet today anyways. Odd considering he didn't quite seem like the type to prefer privacy over socialization. Though you suppose he'd probably spent time around your cousin in their shared space for some of it.

You stayed at the table long enough to make sure Kyle wouldn't be finding himself in even more trouble than he usually did, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a look that clearly said 'behave'. The others tipped their hats at you, friendly smiles as you said your partings for the night.

There were a handful of men arguing near the main stairwell that seemed heated enough that you didn't want to intrude, opting to go around to one of the side entrances on the promenade to reach your cabin instead. It was much quieter here away from the bustle going on near the bow, a welcome reprieve from the raucous behaviors of the men you'd just left. All you wanted now was to get out of these garments and curl up with your book before bedtime.

Just as you were reaching for the door leading inward, you caught a glimpse of someone at the far end sitting with their back to you, items laid out in front of them on a table you couldn't quite make out from this distance. The hair gave him away though, his dark brown...

Mohawk? Was that what Kyle had called it when you'd asked prior? Either way, it had gotten your attention.

He'd taken off his suit jacket, his white button up stretched across his shoulders doing nothing to hide the broad muscular planes of his back. You knew from previous experience with Kyle that the brown leather adorning him was a holster for pistols, one on each side by the looks of it. Strange to find him out here by himself rather than the privacy of his cabin. Perhaps he had been like you earlier and just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air now that the night sky brought with it a welcome reprieve from the heat. You hadn't even realized you'd been lingering quite so long, until–

"Mah front looks a might bit finer than mah back, hen."

You startled at his voice, lost in your own observances while thinking your presence had gone unnoticed. The man hadn't even turned around once! And considering how short his hair was in the back you were fairly certain you hadn't spotted any eyes there. Your face grew hot with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

"How did you know?" You ventured an ask despite the urge to suddenly hide back in the room you were initially headed towards. Mild curiosity kept you in place.

He still hadn't turned to look at you when he replied with an amused huff, "Easy, lass. Yer the only one on this boat wearin' heels."

You glanced down at the offending articles, growing even more flustered at such an obvious tell. The fact that he'd been paying enough attention to his surroundings to even pick up on it while still being fully engrossed in whatever task said a lot about the man.

"Could have lost them in a wager. With how inebriated Kyle is I'm fairly confident he'd slip a pair on."

"Ah've seen Garrick in women's clothes. Ye dunnae sound enough like a newborn foal fer tha' tae be the case."

So many more questions than answers popped in your head at that tidbit of knowledge, but you weren't sure that was a box you wanted to unpack right this minute.

Your feet took you over to John on their own volition, finding yourself standing adjacent to him while he still kept his gaze on his task. Laid out on the table was a leather carrying case unfurled with a variety of weapons and implements that were designed exclusively for the pain and suffering of others. Blades, hooks, ammo, shotgun shells; it was a veritable treasure trove of weaponry.

The man was spinning the cylinder of a revolver in his hands, eyes down the chambers inspecting for what you weren't sure. His sleeves were uncuffed and rolled up to the elbow, revealing thick forearms tanned from the sun and dusted with dark hair. You watched a vein pulse as muscle flexed and rolled under the skin, closing the cylinder and spinning it back into its spot in the holster. It took everything to draw your attention to one of the blades before his vision finally shifted upwards to look at you, picking up a small hooked object and examining it carefully.

"I'm assuming you have all this simply because it goes everywhere with you and not because you think you'll actually need it."

You were caught off guard by his response. "Ah dunnae ken wha' ah'll need, hen. But ah'll be needin' it fer somethin'."

You looked at him in cautious disbelief, not sure what any of this has to do with a simple expedition to some ruins. "I don't think a bunch of desert dwelling reptiles warrant this much protection."

He plucked the item out of your hand, placing it back in the bundle before grabbing the shotgun leaned against the rail next to him and loading the chamber.

"Seen enough ta ken there's more than lizards hidin' under those sands, lass. Trust me: ye'll be thankful fer all this once it pops it's head up ta say hello."

"I don't know what my cousin has told you about me, Mr. MacTavish, but I can assure you I'm–"

"Johnny."

You blank for a moment at the interruption, gaze drawn away from his calloused hands to eyes blue as a desert oasis. You forget for a moment what it was you were just saying, resulting in a very ditzy, unintelligible response.

"...Huh?"

"Johnny." He repeats again, still not breaking whatever hold he had on you as the corners of his mouth quirked up a bit. "Ye can call me Johnny, hen. None o' that mister shite."

"Oh... alright."

He went back to polishing his gun after a moment, releasing you from whatever spell he had on you in the first place that caused your temporarily lack of bodily autonomy. You floundered to regain some of your previous dignity, hyper aware of your heart fluttering in your chest.

"As I was saying, I stopped being afraid of the scary stories Kyle would tell me by the time I was twelve. The only thing I'll be finding there is proof of the city's existence and the opportunity to step somewhere untouched by man in thousands of years."

"Sure, hen. And the fact that there's a solid gold book of Amun Ra fabled ta be buried within has no interest tae ya whatsoever." The skepticism was heavy in his tone as he began wiping down the barrel with a thin blue rag.

You don't know why that accusation stung a little to hear, but you're tone reflected that vulnerability despite not wanting it to. "Some of us just want the chance to prove that not everything we've believed is just the ramblings of a naive school girl full of silly little dreams and nonsense."

Whatever he detects in your voice has his gaze shooting up towards yours, expression completely neutral if not for a hint of something shining behind those eyes. It's gone in a blink, replaced by the seriousness he's been trying to impart to you during this conversation.

"Ye'll find the validation yer lookin' fer, hen. Jus' hope that's the only thing that finds ye."

He rolled his supplies back up in their leather container and secured it with a knot, shoving it back in his worn rucksack before pushing back his chair to stand at full height. The man towers over you, just about the same size as your cousin if not a hair shorter. There was no denying the bulk he had over Kyle's much more lithe form though. He made you feel small standing next to him, stocky frame close enough to yours you could feel the heat radiating off his chest. How this man kept taking away your ability to think cohesively you had no idea.

He looked for a moment like there was more he wanted to say until his attention was directed to something over your shoulder instead, brows furrowing in a way that had you glancing behind to see what had him distracted. Your search came up empty, turning back to look at him only to find the casualness you normally associate with the man.

"Run along now, hen. Got a big day tomorrow and ye'll be needing yer beauty sleep."

Part of you wanted to push, confused at the sudden personality change before deciding that was not a thread you wanted to pick at tonight. Giving him a small nod and stepping around back towards the entrance, you didn't bother looking back as you returned to your quarters to settle in for the night.

You busied yourself with getting undressed from your day clothes and into the much more breathable fabric of your nightgown, thankful for the fashions of the era making it easy to dress yourself without the aid of another. You weren't always a fan of the currently popular drop waist silhouette, but at least stylists were designing clothes with the modern woman in mind.

Sitting in front of the mirror at your dressing table, you took in the image of the woman who had made it this far in life.

Mother had launched you into society almost a decade ago, a prospect that had initially excited you back in your youth. You'd been full of such enthusiasm and optimism in the days following your coming out ball, but even the sands of Egypt were not far enough away to be immune from the Great War. Once Britain declared war on the Ottoman Empire and proclaimed a protectorate over the nation, the young men went off to defend distant shores - your cousin amongst them. It was a painful thing to overhear whispered conversations between your parents of family friends grieving over the loss of their sons and heirs, remembering their smiles when you'd giggled at their flirtations.

Sometimes it felt like all the boys you'd ever danced with were dead.

The country suffered the after effects for years to come, the men returning home no longer with the bright sparkle of youth but the weariness of those who wouldn't dare speak their stories. In a lot of ways it was not just the end of an era, but a new world entirely after that. Things that seemed of great importance suddenly had little meaning. Balls, etiquette, matchmaking - high society still existed and your family had still been members, but once you'd reached your twenties they accepted their daughter would not be a traditional heiress anymore and were content to let her be her own woman. It did not stop your mother entirely from suggesting suitable partners (nor did you turn down the chance to have a future full of love), but she'd been supportive of you up until her and father passed.

Strange to think where you might be right now if humans had only been kinder to one another. Which lad buried in an unmarked grave might have been your husband?

Running the boars head bristles of your hairbrush down through your ends, your attention turned back to the former soldier you had just left behind a few minutes ago. You didn't actually hate the man; there were no true ill intentions in your words towards him. Even your 'stables' grumbling from earlier this morning had been born more out of an annoyance at your cousin than anything. Sure, you would have felt better going on a journey with someone who'd been a bit more upstanding than previous circumstances suggested, but John– Johnny – was also a long time friend of Kyle's and his word held a great deal of weight with you.

And yes, you weren't quite that out of tune with your emotions enough to deny that there was something about him you found strangely appealing. You could readily acknowledge that he cut quite the attractive figure and your eyes were more than happy to drink in such a sight. There had been a small handful of times over the years where you'd initiated a short courtship with a suitor, but for all the dashing young men of good breeding in their smart tailored suits and gentlemanly auras, you'd could safely say their good looks and pleasant smiles hadn't quite tilted you off your axis the way Johnny did.

Part of you was still being stubborn about it though. This was certainly not the time to be filling your head with such frivolity towards a man you knew enough stories about to grasp he was a troublemaker. You couldn't let this distract you from the real reason you all were out here in the desert in the first place.

You set the brush down harder on the vanity than you'd originally meant to, watching it clatter off the table and come to a stop next to your foot. Letting out a small sigh of weariness, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with your fingertips before bending to retrieve the item, opting to stand instead of sitting back down now that you were finished with your nightly pampering rituals.

The reflection that met you in the mirror was not yours.

There wasn't any scream. You didn't reach out and attack the man in self defense. You froze, plain and simple. The flash of a blade at your neck made you obedient, body allowing itself to be manhandled up against the wall. A man in black robes held your gaze, strange markings tattooed across his skin and under his eyes that glared at you in warning. Your mind was too addled with shock to understand why his attire seemed so familiar.

You'd expected more of a reaction out of yourself, this being the first true taste of danger you'd ever experienced.

But fear became a tangible, living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilizing and seizing every breath remaining in your lungs. Your mouth flooded with the taste of iron, the surge of adrenaline doing more harm than good as your vision went blurry and your hands shook from their spots gripping into the seams of your nightgown. Everything in your life funneled down to a moment of awareness of the sharp pinprick of the blade under your chin. How easy it would be to shove it up into your skull...

"Where is the key?" It was a hard voice; one spent years speaking a rougher language than the English he conversed with you in. You almost didn't even hear it over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears.

Burning tears welled behind your eyes, a silent sob stuck in your chest. Every atom in your body screamed at you to run, but you trembled from the effort it took to remain standing and still. One wrong move and your blood would flow like the first plague of Egypt. Death was not a friend you wanted to meet yet.

You were aware of the deadly pressure digging in slightly with each movement of your jaw, imploring you to answer truthfully, but all it did was add to your growing panic as you realized with dread that you had no idea what it was he was asking of you.

The noise that came out of your mouth at first was more akin to a small ragged exhale, throat dry as parchment keeping you from speaking words until you forced yourself to swallow.

"I-I don't..." Your voice felt trapped, genuine confusion bleeding through the terror as you unconsciously shook your head. "I don't know what that is..."

"THE KEY! " His voice raised in anger, triggering a small scream of fright from your lips as your eyes closed instinctively, shrinking back away as far as you could with his hand gripping your bicep.

Oh god. You were going to die. You didn't have the answers he wanted and now you were going to die.

The door to your room broke open with a loud resounding BANG, wooden fragments splintering off from where it was kicked free of its lock. You yelped as you were dragged backwards against a firm body, your captor positioning himself behind you for leverage as Johnny crossed the threshold into your room. His eyes were trained on you, brandishing pistols in both hands as he skirted around the broken debris. What a sight you must have made; eyes bloodshot, tear tracks down your face, shaking like a leaf, clad only in a thin nightgown that went to your knees and left nothing to the imagination.

Johnny's eyes were hard, but they were there, holding you in place with a promise of 'I will get you out of here alive'. And you believed him.

"Let 'er go." It was eerie how calm he was, his voice even without a hint of waver. Standing in front of you was a soldier who'd looked death in the face and fought him bare handed, calm and steady and sure of his every move. Even when the man holding you prisoner tightened his hold on you and dug his blade into the flesh of your neck, Johnny didn't bat an eye. The only sign he gave was the brief glint at your whimper of pain.

Movement at the corner of your eye pulled your attention towards the open window to your room, a sign of the intruder's entry that you must have missed while lost in your own thoughts. But it was the person stepping into view on the other side that had made you look this time, mid arm raising the pistol at his side that he never got the chance to fire. You watched as three bullets hit his chest in quick succession; three deafening bangs from Johnny's own firearms that had you clapping your hands over your ears at the noise. You didn't even have time to process seeing a man get murdered right in front of you when another came up to take the place of his fallen companion. Johnny moved with purpose, darting to the right to avoid the gunfire while returning a barrage right back at him.

In the all the chaos, one of the two men landed a shot on the oil lamp burning on the table, shattering the glass container and spilling fire all over the floor. The fibers in the rug quickly started to catch, winding like ivy up the side of the wall to consume the curtains and continuing to spread outwards.

Some small part of you with self preservation reached out to the vanity next to you and grabbed the nearest item, hand wrapping around a vial of perfume and smashing it backwards into his face. You'd gotten lucky enough that the glass broke on impact, sending shards of it alongside burning chemicals straight into his eyeballs.

The robed man howled out a rough anguished cry, relenting his hold on you to claw at his damaged flesh as you threw yourself away from him. Johnny was immediately there to reach for you, pulling you into his side with one arm as the other kept on firing. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and let him protect you, but with the fires rapidly taking over every inch of the space and the robed men still coming you needed to escape and fast.

You were pushed behind him as he herded you out into the corridor, providing cover for your escape and finally needing to reload. For a brief moment as you were running down the hallway, there was a nagging thought in the back of your head that you'd forgotten something, but compared to the risk on your life it was discarded quickly in favor of paying attention to your surroundings.

Johnny took the lead, you keeping close behind as the pair of you found your way back above deck. You'd been grateful not to run into any other combatants along the way, but taking a step outside had you eating your words at the chaos unfolding in front of you.

It wasn't just your dwellings that caught fire. The entire vessel was ablaze with more than a dozen black robed men running around hurling torches through broken windows and dragging them through anything flammable. Men climbed down from the guard rails and jumped off the edges, abandoning ship down into the dark waters below. Your breath caught in your chest at the hellish landscape, too caught up in the savagery to notice as Johnny pressed you back against the wall out of view and began unloading into the men firing down on the passengers from above.

So much mayhem and bloodshed. And all for what? Some stupid key?

That's when it hit you: the metal box. It was still in your room.

"The artifact!" You all but shouted as you turned on your heel to head back the way you came, halted by an arm hooking you around the waist and tossing you into the wall with a small oof.

"I'll get ya another one!" Johnny all but growled out as he kept his attention facing the enemy, ducking around the corner to return scattered gunfire only to hide again as they took shots at the spot he just occupied, aiming through the walls to try to get to him and blasting holes in the wood. One came particularly close to his head, grumbling out a curse in what you assumed was Gaelic going by the gruffness of the words.

"If I don't bring that back with me than I'm as good as dead!"

Some would argue you didn't have your priorities in order considering the extreme amount of danger you were currently in. They'd clearly never met Dr. John Price.

You didn't have time to make any more objections before you were on the move again, dodging around overturned tables and flaming fabrics, screaming as bullets whizzed by your bodies with a holler from Johnny to just keep running. Your lungs burned from all the exertion, coughing as the wind blew smoke into your face and down your airways. Where the hell was Kyle in all this?

You get to the side of the boat, catching your breath as you stare around wide eyed for your cousin. Your thoughts are interrupted by your companion, too busy to pay him any real mind. "Ye swim, lass?"

"Very poorly." There hadn't been much occasion to growing up. You'd learned when you were young, but being in deep water as a child made you uneasy and your parents hadn't taken you often enough to really improve.

The implication of his words was completely lost on you right up until the point your legs were suddenly swung out from underneath you and you were being hoisted into his brawny arms. You never even got a chance to question it as the feeling of your stomach dropping was your only hint at being unceremoniously dumped over the bow into the Nile.

You'd shrieked on the short distance down, water invading your mouth from lack of warning as your eyes closed on instinct. The river was mildly temperate, still warm from the day's sun but not yet chilled from it disappearing over the horizon. Your body panicked for a moment as it tried to right itself underwater, unable to distinguish up from down with arms flapping wildly until you at last broke the surface, limbs struggling to keep you afloat while you sputtered out the liquid in your mouth.

Turning your gaze upwards, you saw Johnny lifting himself up over the rail, one boot perched on the side ready to vault over. You didn't have a chance to warn him, screaming as he was hauled backwards and out of sight.

"Johnny!" There was fear and desperation in your voice, worried for his safety and helpless to do anything about it.

Your head bobbed back down under the river, the crashing waves from the ship making an already hard task even worse as you popped back up with a gasp. You still couldn't see him from your vantage point, a tightness in your chest as you cast your gaze around you instead to focus on your own survival. You didn't know which way to go in your panic, seeing most of the other passengers heading for the far shore. Then there was the problem of the steady current trying to drag you further upstream. It wouldn't be impossible to others who were stronger swimmers than you, but the adrenaline was wearing off and the fatigue coming in quick.

You didn't know if you could make it.

Yelling out in frustration as you swam the other way, you begged and pleaded with your body to not give up on you just yet.

You got about halfway to the riverbank, forcing your muscles to go as far as they could and feeling the intense strain from the demand you were putting on them. If this was a lake things might have been different; you'd spent time in those back in England visiting close family friends and relatives. You'd never been taught proper form and even then you hadn't swam as far out as the others had, opting to stay nearer to the shallows where you could still enjoy a refreshing dip in safety. Water was easy when it wasn't fighting against you.

"Please, God, please..." It was hard to tell if your vision was blurry from the heavy tears in your eyes or if your body was just giving up, too tired to carry on. Your throat was choked up from crying and swallowing so much river water, doggy paddling to stay afloat as your strength began to fail. It was getting harder and harder to keep from submerging.

"Help me..." You begged out to empty air, the only sounds being the distant cacophony of the crowd on the far side of the Nile and the burning wreckage crackling and spitting as she sinks. The shoreline was still too far off for how much energy you had left.

You were alone. Completely alone.

You were going to drown.

You were exhausted; head tilted back as you let your body's natural buoyancy do the work you no longer could, breathing hard as you blinked up at the stars sparkling back at you. You tried to keep your legs kicking with what little you had left, but you were spent and struggling to keep your face above the surface. It was only a matter of time.

Drowning was an awful way to die, taking a deceitful breath of air and choking down to a watery grave. Would your cousin even find your body or would it be condemned to the service of fish food?

"...please... I'm scared..." came the whispered broken admittance, resignation seeping into your bones. It was just you and the inky darkness as the inevitability of your demise drew near, the only solace you could provide yourself was the gentle reminder that very soon you'd finally be back in the comfort of your mother's arms once more.

Your name broke through the air, stabbing you in the chest and robbing the air from your lungs. You almost stopped swimming from the shock of it, eyes blown wide as you screamed back his name in a mixture of hope and desperation: "Johnny! "

You spun wildly even though that only cost you precious energy, as you saw a figure heading towards you in the near distance. Long arms made broad strokes that carried him in your direction, prayers miraculously answered by whichever deity deigned to show you mercy.

"Johnny I can't–" you swallowed a mouthful of water as your legs gave out, sending you sinking under the surface.

The pressure from the water's current made it hard for you to pry your eyelids apart - not that it would have made very much difference considering there was not but shadows in the depths. Your hands clasped over your nose and mouth, pinching them tight in an effort to keep the air in your lungs for as long as possible. You hoped Johnny was a strong swimmer, a cramp in your legs keeping you from trying anymore.

'Hurry...' the voice inside your head whispered, lungs burning after countless moments spent floating in darkness.

You could make it. You had to make it.

Hands grabbed at you right as your lungs succumbed to the need to take a breath, mouth open in a silent gargled scream as you clawed at your throat instinctively, convulsing as your body tried to violently expel the liquid drowning you to no avail. What must've been seconds felt like torturous hours as a force pulled you upwards, agony as you sped towards the surface.

You coughed up the water in your system once you breached and hit air again, lungs wheezing from the intrusion as a sturdy arm caged you in to a well-built chest, supporting you with one as he used the rest of his strength in the other to slowly maneuver towards safety.

"Ah got ye, hen. Ah got ye. Jus' hold on tight tae me, yea? There's a good lass."

You could barely keep your eyes open as he swam you both the rest of the distance to shore, pushing you forward to reach the sand first and helping you crawl up onto dry land. You collapsed in a heap, the nightgown stuck to you like a second skin, hair long and stringy like limp seaweed. The sand was abrasive on your face from where your cheek was smushed into the ground, sprawled out on your stomach while your brain grappled with the fact that you were still somehow alive.

Johnny was half draped over your back, breathing hard from supporting the weight of both of you even as he ran his hand across your back with gentle shushing noises to help settle you and your errant tears. He brushed the hair away from your face, blinking down at you with a look of concern for your emotional and physical well-being. He looked just as waterlogged as you, though he at least had the dignity of having saved your life.

"Still wit' me, hen?"

You nodded weakly, hand shakily reaching up to rest over the one he still had near your cheek and grasping it with barely any strength. You hoped despite how wrecked you felt that he could see in your eyes how unbelievably grateful you were to him for his actions tonight. "Thank you..."

He nodded back at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze in response before resuming the comforting gesture on your back. The pair of you stayed like that for a few minutes, you still trying to gather your bearings while Johnny scanned the landscape, taking in the other passengers still scrambling up the riverbank on the opposite side while keeping an eye out for one person in particular. Once your head was on straighter, you came to the same conclusion as he had: you were missing someone.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, scanning the area as the familiar pull of dread once more tugged in your chest. "Where is he? Where's Kyle?"

Your companion gave no answer, face kept intentionally neutral in a way that only made the contents of your stomach churn even more. You tried to get your legs up underneath you to make it to your feet, but a firm hand on your back kept you down to conserve your strength. "He's comin', lass. He'll be comin'."

You weren't entirely sure if he believed that.

"Kyle!" Your raspy voice rang out through the still of the night, pleading for a response. "Kyle!"

"Garrick! " Johnny joined in, throwing his own bellow into the mix that was a great deal stronger and more capable of being carried on the wind than yours.

You called out again, practically sobbing in relief when a faint answering cry came back somewhere to the left of you. Swiveling your head in the direction of the voice, you saw the familiar visage of your cousin jogging down the beach, looking no less worse for wear than the two of you were.

"You two certainly made it a good distance upstream. Been hollering for ya back there." He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the way he came. You were glad for the lightheartedness of his tone as he approached, even as he looked you up and down trying to assess the condition you were in.

Johnny stood from his spot over top of you to clasp arms with him, pulling each other into a hug with a hearty slap on the back. "Fer a moment there ah thought ye might've made friends wit' a bullet."

"Went looking for you two, found a trail of dead bodies instead. Might've been one of them if not for those scrappy Americans tearing up the place like a dance hall."

He swung something he'd been carrying off his back, depositing it at Johnny's feet with a soft tap of his boot. You recognized it as the worn rucksack containing all his ammo and armaments. He must've left it on deck back where you last saw him. "You'll be happy to be seeing this I'd wager. Couldn't go back for mine on account of the whole everything was on fire situation."

Johnny barked out a laugh of delight, kneeling down to start rucking through it while Kyle sidestepped around him to kneel down next to you. Carefree expression turned worrying as he took in your trembling form, caught off guard at the way you managed to throw yourself into his arms. His embrace was a balm to your soul, hold tightening around you as if he needed this almost as much as you did. Placing a firm kiss to your temple, you felt like you could finally breathe for the first time since this night started.

"Let's not do that again, shall we?" There was a bit of forced laughter in your words in an attempt to not appear as fucked up as you felt, voice partially muffled from where your face stayed buried in his shoulder.

"I'll keep that in mind for our next adventure." He pulled back for a moment to give your face a proper inspection, searching for any sign of hidden damage. "Not hurt are you, dolly? Had me worried when I couldn't find you onboard."

You shook your head before closing your eyes, resting your weight against him again. "Johnny found me in my chambers once the fighting broke out. Saved my life more than once tonight."

From your vantage point, you missed the look Kyle gave him in response, a firm understanding passing between the two that needed no words. They both were pulled out of it by the quiet brokenness of your own.

"It's gone... all of it. Our belongings, the equipment. My clothes." Just because you were in a desert didn't mean things stayed warm after the sun went down. A light breeze wafted the air, sending goosebumps down your still dripping wet form, very aware of how thin this nightgown was as you crossed your arms over your chest in an effort to maintain some modesty.

"Ye jus' leave that part tae us, lass. Dunnae worry a hair on yer pretty wee head."

"Hey MacTavish! " Your conversation was interrupted by a far off unknown voice with a thick American southern accent, turning your head to peer through the darkness and locating a figure standing apart from the others where everyone was gathered on the opposite bank of the Nile. Johnny stood up from his position hunched over his pack, walking towards the water's edge at his summons.

"MacTavish! It looks to me like I've got all the horses!" It was hard to tell from this distance, but he had his arms spread wide with what you knew by his tone had to be some sort of smug shit eating grin on his face. Real mature, gloating at a time like this.

You felt an inkling better once your Scottish companion opened his mouth and belted back with a similar smirk. "Hey Graves! Looks tae me like yer on the wrong side o' the river!"

There was a pause as the words were processed. You couldn't be sure, but you swore you heard a faint curse as the man kicked the water, turning on his heel to clomp back to his fellows while barking out orders too muffled to be understood.

As Johnny rejoined the group, the three of you mentally took stock of the situation and everything that was now lost at the bottom of the Nile. At least you'd ended up on the western bank and didn't have to deal with the headache of crossing again. But you still had a long journey to go.

"So what happens now?" You spoke up from your spot still within your cousin's hold, glancing between them with such uncertainty and hoping for some reassurance. "Where do we go from here? The next port is at least twenty miles away and I can't cross the Sahara looking like this."

"We'll stay here for a bit longer while you get your strength back, maybe camp here for the night. Then we'll head south along the river where we will hopefully stumble across a caravan and get our missing supplies sorted out." Kyle's words were helpful and gave you some confidence that there was enough experience between the two of them to get you out of this debacle in one piece.

You could only trust that whatever bit of bad luck you just endured was the worst of what this expedition would bring.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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decks-writing-blog · 23 days

Text

Here to Stay Drabbles: Benrey Benry Benrye

Summary: Benrey makes some important decisions.

[A/N] In a not yet released chapter of my current WIP fic 'Gordon Swap' my headcanon that Benrey stole Barney's uniform at some point in the past gets brought up and if I recall correctly I alluded to that being the case near the end of WeverTF Benrey is too because it's an idea I've had a for a while. Writing the bit where it's brought up in 'Gordon Swap' made me want to write this so I did.

Everyone paid attention to the security guards. When sensitive experiments were being worked on they blocked the entrance to the labs in question, necessitating people talk to them to be let through. The perfect set up for some fun shenanigans. It wouldn’t work if not one of them though which meant a uniform was needed.

The locker and thus the name tag on the uniform inside read ‘Barney’. A good name… maybe. What made something a good name? That one brought to mind barns so maybe whoever it was owned a barn. Assuming barns existed outside of fantasy video games anyway. Regardless the name was taken and thus that one wouldn’t do no matter how good or bad it was.

Something that started with a ‘B’ would be fine though. B was a pretty cool letter as far as letters went. … A long while of just sitting in the locker room, staring at the name tag so far hadn’t brought much inspiration. Naming oneself was hard. In video games ‘aaaaaaaa’ or some kind of swear word, making the NPC’s look silly and/or rude, worked great. In real life though, in a new human looking form, it had to be something believable. Changing it later was technically possible but what if this security guard thing really took off? A bunch of different names might get confusing and wouldn’t feel right anyway. Any name chosen here would likely stick for a while.

Sticking with being called ‘X’ was possible but it didn’t feel like a name. That was the experiment’s title and the titles of other experiments almost never lined up with any of the proper names for the beings/objects involved and thus it shouldn’t here either. Besides, some distance from that lab would be nice, easier to prank people further away from it as they’d be far less likely to suspect anything fishy.

“Barney. Barbara. Benjamin.” What other ‘B’ names were there? Preferably ones that would be easy to scribble onto the the name tag with the sharpie. “Bob. Boob.” That one wasn’t a name. But it didn’t have to be a real, name did it? Just close enough to one to sound believable. It was hard to know what counted as a real name anyway.

“Barnley. Barley. Benley.” That one had kind of a nice ring to it but wasn’t quite right. “Beney. Ben… ray, like a ray of sunshine? Benray. Hmm… nah, too pretty.” Not that there was anything wrong with being named after a ray of sunshine, the sun was quite nice actually, but pretty wasn’t cool and it had to be something cool. This still felt like a good line of thinking though. So instead of ‘a’ like a pretty ray of sunlight how about the ‘e’ from the original name stay? Meaning it would be… “Benrey.”

“Benrey. Benrey. Benrey. Benrey. Benrey.” Ha. It’d be funny if that was the full name. Maybe some of them could be spelled a little differently too like ‘Benry’ or ‘Benrye’.

Standing and looking around revealed no one to talk to. Which made sense, humans like to sleep every single night for some reason and thus few were ever around during the night. Pretending to talk to someone would have to do.

“My name’s Benrey, nice to meet’cha. Howdy, hello, I’m Benrey. I need to see your uh… papers or something ‘cause I’m totally a security guard so I gotta see that stuff to let you through. … Hello, I’m uh… security guard, Benrey, gotta show me your papers now, ‘kay?” The delivery on some of that wasn’t great. Did security guards even introduce themselves by name? And probably instead of the nebulous ‘papers’, asking for a specific document that he could change up at will would be better. But the name felt pretty good.

The sharpie cap came off with a small pop. Pressing the uniform against the locker made it easier to scribble on the name tag. Turn the ‘ar’ into a big ‘e’ then add a little ‘r’ in front of and slightly over the ‘e’ after the ‘n’ so it wasn’t clear if it was being covered up or replaced, opening the door for it be read as ‘Benrey’ or ‘Benry’. Perfect.

New human looking form and new human sounding name, yay. There was one thing missing though. None of the humans around the lab or in any video games or TV shows were referred to as ‘it’. Why was a mystery because almost everything else – plants, bugs, animals, and video game monsters alike – went by ‘it’ at least some of the time. But if humans went by ‘he’, ‘she’ or in one instance ‘they’, then to blend in more with them being addressed as such was necessary, right? Not that blending in all the way was the goal. Standing out too much too soon would make the bit harder though.

What was the difference between ‘it’s, ‘he’s, ‘she’s and ‘they’s though? Paying more attention to that kind of stuff would’ve helped out here. Was it even something that could be gleaned from looking at a person though? Maybe it was a choice people made and told everyone else and Benrey had just never overheard such a conversation. Asking was an option as was sneaking onto a computer to look it up but… did it really matter? Of everything else, this felt far less important. So… he would be a ‘he’ because as far as he knew all the security guards he knew were ‘he’s so he would be one too.

His name was ‘Benrey’, he was a ‘he’, and he was a security guard. He wasn’t human but he would fit in with them a bit more now, enough to hopefully have some fun.

#hlvrai #here to stay drabbles #benrey

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lyra-heartstring · 5 months

Text

TW: Mentions of Sh, suicide, Od, racism ( self directed/internalized )

Before i start, the racism part of this is genuinely only to myself. I dont care what race other people are, i just hate mine.

Letter for the boy in the mirror that i wish to kill.

Spending the past 16 years of my life being ugly has been my enternal hell. I have to live everyday knowing im conventionally unattractive and no matter the clothes i wear and the way i style myself ill always be ugly. I have wonderful outfits that i think are really fucking cool or just nice and casual, but the only issue is my face and my skin. I dont want to deal with this shit, i hate my skin tone and i hate everyone trying to tell me to be proud of it. " Black is beautiful "Go fuck yourself, im not and for some reason everyone feels the need to let me know like i havent had to live with this body that i wish wasn't nine. "You're ugly" " who would like you" " you can atleast try to be funny " all of you can die, im tired of you and your fake sympathetic bullshit or the rejections in which i get infantalized bc people dont wwnt to be mean, just for me to find out wbt what they were thinking later. I get it im ugly and i tucking hate my race every issue i have stems in some way shape or form from those 2 factors (gender is another but that's a seperate rant on its own ) and don't give me that bullshit " its just your style " " dress nicely " fashion is a looks thing irregardless of how u want to spin it. Outfits look good because of how the person looks and for some fucking reason nothing works with me. My parents are trying to style me as some proper black christiwn boy, thats litterally the entire opposite of what i want to be. i have to deal with everyone tell me shit like " your outfit looks good", hoping one day they talk about me. " your shirt is nice " what about me?, " your outfit is cute ", what about me?. Ive spent years living as the billshit excuse of a human being with people shoving it down throat that im ugly, but THE SECOND I TRY TO KILL MY SELF OR I CUT MYSELF EVERYONE IS SUDDENLY THE GOOD SAMARITAN READY TO SAVE ME FROM MY TROUBLES. " Im jealous of you ", " i wish i looked like you ", " you arent ugly " I swear to every single celestial being i will rip off the head of the next person who tries to spoon feed me this bullshit. Im the person who is better off taking the photos, the one in the back of the pictures being blocked by people and thanks to my fucking skin tone i looked like some fucked up horror monster in polaroids. Now that its been 16 years of not a single person being there for me, suddenly everyone is some empath and knows how i feel. " i relate " " i understand how you " NO YOU FUCKING DONT, YOU POST AESTHETIC PHOTOS OF YOURSELF WEEKLY, HAVE PEOPLE HITTING ON YOU, WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT BC U ARE ATTRACTIVE ANYWAYS SO ANYTHING U WEAR IS A " fit ". GO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF, TRY BEING THE PERSON THAT EVERYONR IS SUPRISED MANAGES TO DATE SOMEONE, ITS NOT THE SURPRISED OF " we didnt know " ITS THE BULLSHIT SURPRISE WHETE THEY ACY LIKE YOUR PARTNER IS BLIND OR YOU ARR PAYING THE PERSON TO DATE YOU. ITS THAT BULLSHIT SURPRISE YHAT SOMEONE ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH LIKES YOU. IF YOU EVEN GO THROUGH A PORTION OF THAT THEN MAYBE SAY U UNDERSTAND ME, DONT TRY TO RELATE TO MY STORY WHEN YOUR BIGGEST WORRY IS BEING HIT ON. MY BIGGEST WORRY IS BEING CALLED CREEPY BC I SAID I LIKE SOMEONE, OR A WEIRDO BC I CONFESS TO SOMEONE " i like you " BC ITS CRAZY THAT MY ABORTED FETUS LOOK-A-LIKE SELF HAS YHE AUDACITY TO DEVELOP FEELINGS WHILR LOOKING THE WAY I DO. EVERYONE ELSE CAUSE DO THE SAME SHIT AND ITS A SILLY FUN HIGHSCHOOL EXPERIENCE, ITS FUNNY, AKWARD, ROMANTIC. What i would give to be a different person, different hair, different face, different race, different voice, the amout i would throw away just for that is unmeasureable. To the higher beings i hate you for what you have

done to me, people worship you for what you have fone for them, and im suppossed to join along and be thankful of the gift of life when my life has been nothing but a curse. I hate you for how i look, i hate that everyday i have to find new methods to not think or look into mirrors bc my immediate reaction to commit suicide. Im 16 with a violent hatred towards my face, a waste of space incomplete cell called my body, the urge/desire to kill myself the second i think abt how i look, pure hatred and negativity. I spend all my time cutting because the moment the blade leaves my skin i remember im ugly. The many nights i stare into the mirror with the pills in my hand as i cry for being dealt this shit of a hand from life. I hope for happiness one day but ik that i will never find it nor will i let go of this anger. To the few people reading this

#mental illness #actually mentally ill #actually bpd #bpd #cvtt!ng #i hate my body #i hate my skin #i hate my face #i hate everything #i hate being ugly #why am i like this #sorry for being depressing #tw depressing thoughts #depressing shit #vent #vent post

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infinitethree · 2 months

Text

It hasn't been a spectacular week by any stretch of the imagination, but, you know, Daz has felt a little bit of pride at how one of Lee's first acts upon learning about the Council– about Daz– was to try and help the piglins.

Was it reckless to do it that way? Of course it was; he can’t possibly argue otherwise.

But Lee still wanted to help. He wanted to extend his supernatural kindness towards a people that he had no idea were much more intelligent than their zombified counterparts.

Intention isn't everything, but it's not nothing.

The situation had ended about as well as he could hope for. His bastion is still unsure, but he's giving them some time to talk and decide if they'll accept his kindness for what it is.

The second time went much better, at least; Lee learned from his mistakes and put that knowledge to use where it can have the most impact.

Still, though, it's been…a lot. On top of the talks with Lee and the piglins, he had to approach the endfolk to ensure they had at least some awareness of Lee.

Not too much– it never pays to tell them enough to let them investigate such things on their own– but saying nothing would be worse.

He ensured they were just aware that he's taken a potential admin under his wing and that said person wishes to learn the proper way to converse with them. The admin-in-training is not ready yet, though, and thus anyone who chooses to seek them out has no right to take offense to his failure to adhere to proper ender etiquette.

Not that he said it that bluntly, of course. You can't be direct with endfolk, because their entire lives revolve around playing coy to varying degrees.

Directness exists on a bell curve; it's either an honor or an insult. If you're close and have permission, it's an honor. If you don't, you're delivering an insult in direct proportion to how blunt you are.

On top of that, the complicated webs of alliances and enemies any given haunting can have could involve dozens of other hauntings directly. Then the same is true for each of those involved hauntings, and onwards until hundreds of hauntings could be affected by a single bad conversation.

Daz prefers piglins, but he can't deny that there’s a thrill he gets from successfully navigating that minefield. It leaves him with a sense of pride that he's never shared with anyone but Raine.

Raine knows just enough to know that endfolk are intelligent but too capricious for the average player to deal with. He’s been explicitly forbidden from trying to make contact, because Daz doesn't want him to feel that guilt he's afraid of Lee feeling.

There's nothing to be gained from his friend getting involved.

But that entire meeting about Lee has left him exhausted. He had to edge into being more blunt to convey how serious he is– a gamble he's still not sure if he pulled off.

That means he absolutely does not want to go deal with whatever Aster wants mere hours later.

Unfortunately, though, the asshole was insistent that it's an urgent matter.

So, Daz reluctantly goes to the HQ. He uses a stasis chamber over teleporting because, frankly, he's not interested in leaving evidence of this location for Day, Lucid, or potentially San to find.

A sense of foreboding dogs him as he climbs the ladder. He's learned to…not entirely ignore such things, but also not take them entirely seriously until he has proof that his worry is justified.

It looks like he has reason to worry, though; Aster’s expression isn't one he likes.

When Aster doesn’t start, he snaps, “What? You drag me out here and can't even be assed to explain why?”

There's a flinch, and Aster’s folded hands tighten into a white-knuckle grip.

Slowly, he confesses, “I…made a deal. Not– it wasn't my idea, though. And I thought–” Aster suddenly rakes a hand through his hair, looking worried.

Almost fearful.

“I thought I would be told, not– if I knew it would be like this, I swear I never would have agreed.”

Every word spikes his anxiety further, until he storms forward to grab his ally by the collar. “What the fuck did you do? What did you get, and what was the price?”

“A wish. The Scribe offered up a wish with no limitations– literally reality-bending. I can give it to whoever I want, too.”

Fuck, that’s a terrifyingly tempting prize.

Aster doesn’t look happy about it, though. He’s apologizing, trying to head off Daz’s anger.

He’s done something awful, hasn't he? What an…interesting...ally, Innit titters.

He growls, “What's the price, Aster.”

The man he put an immense amount of faith in regardless of how little Daz likes him as a person finally meets his eyes.

“I see your past. I– the first episode showed me four things. Sometimes it's in your head, other times it's like how Theo described baseline.”

His hands slacken as he reels backwards in shock and terror.

Aster rushes to say, “I thought I would be told, not made to– fuck, if I even suspected it would be like that–!”

Feeling a creeping numbness instead of raw, animal fear– he’ll feel that later– he asks, “What did you see.”

His supposed ally folds his arms around himself. “You were– you were a kid. You snapped off parts of yourself to try and earn love.”

Shit, that’s a bad one; he can’t afford for Aster to be sympathetic to him.

Sanctuary can't afford for Aster to be sympathetic.

“What else.” “It was…it seemed like a normal day. You were with Dream, talking about a project. He convinced you to take a nap.” Aster hesitates, and adds, “You said you wished he was your family. He was…too happy about that.”

“I deliberately preyed on his insecurities to make him need me,” Daz scoffs bitterly. He needs to reverse that sympathy into something much less positive– he needs Aster not to like him.

Instead of arguing, Aster says, “The next was when you killed him. You threatened to cut out his tongue. You lied that you planned to live– you were relishing that he'd suffer later.”

He saw in our head for that one. When do you think he'll confront you about my existence? About why you never mentioned me, about how broken and pathetic you really are?

Fear and resentment and betrayal thrums in his veins.

“And– and I saw you bury Tubbo.” Aster looks…

Of all of them, that one seems to be the one he feels the most guilty about.

“You gave back your bandana. You burned the things from Dream, too– you came here with no…claims.”

That particular wound is infected enough for him to snarl, “I didn’t deserve his claim, and Dream didn't deserve mine!”

“Lee, Day, and Lucid all freaked out at the idea of doing that,” Aster says, his arms tightening around himself like he needs stability. “To them– to an admin, a claim is proof of their relationships. You abandoned all of yours.”

“Tubbo died because of me. It's my fault he's dead. My project, my ex-mentor, my hands. I failed my purpose, my duty, to protect him! An admin who can't protect their claimed people is worse than useless. An admin who gets their claimed people killed is better off dead,” Daz snaps at him.

Aster stares at him in what seems like horror. “You weren’t just punishing Dream. You were punishing yourself, too.”

“You'll get confirmation eventually,” Daz seethes. “Not like I have a fuckin’ choice anymore, huh?”

His old, usually-smothered claustrophobia is rearing its ugly head again. Daz wants to claw his skin off and be somewhere open and never let anyone see him again.

None of this is okay; none of this is tolerable.

He has to fight to keep ahold of his fury. “You know, when I said you remind me of Dream…that wasn't meant to be a fuckin’ challenge.”

Aster seems pained. “I thought– I didn't think it'd be like this. I assumed– fuck, if it was just told to me, you'd never forgive me for rejecting it out of some stupid sense of nobility. You don't need me to protect you, so–”

He feels his expression twist with his anger, he snarls, “And, what, you weren't allowed to send me a fuckin’ text to ask?! Your intentions aren't worth shit! This is– you can't fuckin’ fathom how violating it is for you, of all fuckin’ people, to be in my head for some of the worst fuckin’ moments of my fuckin’ life! I don't need your worthless fuckin’ pity, I don't need your regret– I don't need you.”

Shoving his wrist upwards he seethes, “Traitor.”

The last thing he sees is Aster’s expression subtly twist in grief. Daz lands in a secluded blackstone cave in the nether and screams.

#chronotag #long post #dazzlingvoid #shiningaster #innerinnit #Daz is Definitely Fine dw about it*#*citation needed #he's doing SO fuckin' bad actually #Aster isn't doing so hot either ngl

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esta-elavaris · 10 months

Note

Hiiiii! I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA for a while. This definitely doesn’t mean I’ve stopped reading the incredible fic that is FTT!! I FINALLY had the chance to sit down and go through all my backlog of James/Theo goodness which has had me literally living my best life. I swear I love these two dorks with all my heart: the ball and James’ continued analysis of Theo’s character, how he continues to try to find reasons to dislike her but the more he tried the more curious and drawn to her he is.

The LIBRARY SCENE I SWEAR THAT WHOLE THING IS LIKE SO PERFECT I WAS IN LOVE WITH THE WHOLE THINGGGGG. I mean BOOKS 😭😭😭😭. Books as courting tools is my kink I swear. I mean not that they are courting or anything but the undeniable undertones of attraction are there and I am so here for it.

Also, James without a wig, in a *scandalous* state of relaxation, yes please. Then them pining for one another when they don’t yet know that they are pining for each other is so precious, all

under the guise of yeah sure he’s being nice because he wants to catch her unawares. And seriously, have I said it before? COURTING THROUGH BOOKS AND BEING ADORABLE BOOK NERDS BE STILL MY HEART 😭😭😭😭😭

And Elizabeth just being all matchmakey I seriously love how you write her and her friendship with Theo is the best (I know I always say this, but IT BEARS REPEATING!). I really liked how you hinted at Theo’s plans to return home and how she might be feeling some guilt over it because of, potentially, how that might affect Elizabeth, and I cannot wait to see how that all plays out in future chapters.

Also, I don’t know if I’ve told you before, but I seriously love your attention to detail in the way you write, beyond the plot, I mean. I love how when you’re writing from Theo’s pov the language is much more modern and you include all these references to technology etc., and when you write from any other character’s pov you adjust the language accordingly. I’m sorry if this is a really dumb comment on my part but I always notice this and I find it makes reading your story all the more enjoyable, and all the easier to become immersed in each scene. Seriously, I cannot fangirl enough. This story, and the way you write these characters, are amazing and your updates never fail to brighten my days!

As thanks for your tireless service to the community lol here’s a gif of our man being all adorable, which coincidentally is also a graphic representation of me sitting down to read your new updates 😌

HELLO 💜 first off I'm very sorry for how stupidly long it took me to reply to this -- but while it waited in my ask box, I read it several times across the last week and it made me smile like an idiot every single time, so it truly was the gift that keeps on giving.

Secondly, there is absolutely less than no need to apologise to me - life happens, I understand, the stories will always be waiting here when you're able to get to them! I'm glad the backlog was able to provide a wee bit of entertainment 🥰

Someone pointed out to me recently that books as courting tools is a recurring theme in my fics and it was not intentional but I'm not mad about it 💀 the heart wants what it wants. I do think Theo would be such a good chance for James to sit and discuss books with in like, a serious way because I don't think he'd have a chance to do much of that with a woman? Not because she's ✨not like other girls✨ and that the ladies already there wouldn't be up to it (Elizabeth is super sharp, we see her read in the first movie, and she won't be the only woman with a brain in Port Royal), but because she doesn't have that same social conditioning that might inhibit the women already there in a discussion?

Like we see a bit of how Elizabeth isn't totally herself around James the same way she is with Will, mostly in the first movie - she reverts into polite proper lady mode and smiles and nods and does what is expected of her, and I just don't think it would be approved of in that time/setting if a woman was to sit and properly debate a book with a man, for fear that it would be unladylike or off-putting. Theo is fine with being unladylike and off-putting, usually. Meanwhile James is like 😍 yes queen debate Marcus Aurelius with me xoxo

Plus, she's had a bit of a rougher life than most ladies there (albeit not as rough as James speculates) so she'd be able to apply that to the philosophy books that they're exchanging, rather than debating it purely theoretically, and I think it would have James discovering a whole new kink (the lesser known Aladdin song).

Hhhh okay that rant got out of hand, I do apologise! I'm loving the focus on Elizabeth and Theo's friendship, too - I feel like they're able to get so much closer in this version of events because Theo doesn't need to be half so guarded with her as she did in the OG fic.

RE: the differing character voices depending on the POV thing -- thank you so much 😭 I do make a big effort with that, I like to joke that James' perspective is just my old academic essay voice dressed up in a trenchcoat (or, er, a powdered wig) it's not a dumb comment at all, I'm thrilled that it doesn't go unnoticed! It's also just so fun to have James being all like "ah, yes, that inexplicable turn of events would truly be a calamity" then we jump to our leading lady and she's like "oh for fuck's sake" -- they're meant for each other, truly.

Again, thank you so much!! 💜💜💜 Life is A Lot this month and this was just a shining beam of glorious golden light in the middle of it and I'm very very grateful. So grateful I could almost respond with a dissertation. Oh wait, looks like I did 👉🏻😎👉🏻

#asks #dissertation!lucy strikes again #FTT #james/theodora

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zero-ek · 5 months

Text

It's M3 day!

I was particularly excited for this one, the releases on the past two were absolutely amazing, and the XFDs for this one also looked very promising. This time around i also took some time to check out some newer artists and see if i vibe with any of them.

First and foremost i want to give appreciation and massive props to ハルちゃん for putting together this behemoth of a roundup playlist, i couldn't check every single video but it was a lifesaver for me to have it at hand.

Ok then, starting with my Big Four™

youtube

Oh my gosh...

I could go all day explaining the reasons why i absolutely adore this, but to list the main ones:

First, it's nayuta and i'm madly in love with her by default. Second, look at this art like holy god. Third, i adore her concept albums, in my opinion it's some of the best stuff she puts out, like, the worldbuilding and sheer atmosphere that "Imaginary Arcadia" and "The Girl in the Alleyway..." invoke is nothing short of incredible. Fourth, the composer for this one is RD-Sounds, who y'know, made me ugly cry last month, and also made absolute bangers like LaPri's "Sore wa Sekai..." and Tamu's "Son Joyeux", so i have super high hopes for this. Fifth, i'm into the scenario for this one, i swear i've read like 10 yuri mangas with the same premise, so i'm excited to see whay nayuta does with it.

From the XFD it seems that this one is following up on "Clarity" and leaning heavily on the rock direction, but i think the lyrics are going to be front and center on this one, so i'll see if i can hold out judgement until it comes out proper but i'm soooo absolutely hyped to see what these two came up with!!!

youtube

Reject futuristic aesthetics, return to tradition.

I love the diversity on this one, i know that Sennzai is best known for her "burning-down-the-house" songs, but with how unique and captivating her vocals are, i just love seeing all the different directions she takes her songs towards (i really recommend checking out her karaoke streams she sings all sorts of stuff in those).

I'm particularly interested on the instrumentation for this one, i love when songs mesh together traditional instruments with modern composition styles, and Sennzai in particular seems to marry this traditional-but-not-quite theme perfectly, so i'm really excited to see how this one plays out.

(i really want to hear her sing Kalafina's Hyakka Ryouran now)

youtube

The Hifumi girls are taking a break from original stuff and putting out a cover collection this time around (apart from their usual commissoned work), and seeing how busy they were last year i don't blame them, get that bag and get some rest!

I'm particularly excited for Tamu's, she's covering "Killer Neuron" and Isekaijoucho's "Dimension" and i particularly want to hear how the latter sounds like in her voice, her vocals do have a similar texture to Ojou's but in a higher register, so i kinda wanna AB the two just to see what it's like.

Also also, the fact that they're covering each other's songs reeeeeeally makes me think that there's gonna be something big with these two coming soon, like the amount of "wink wink" vibes i've been getting from them lately is off the charts.

youtube

The fourth and final installment on the "Colours" series. I don't have much to say here because while it pains me to admit, i don't listen to Endorfin a whole lot. I have been making an effort to listen to more of them since Nakucha's first live and also because i really liked "Qulalim Stella", which is also by sky_delta, but i'm gonna have to do a listen-through on the whole series before i can say anything concrete.

youtube

As a college student these levels of comfiness are the stuff i fantasize about.

Not gonna lie, i was expecting this one to be much more low energy (in hindsight i don't know why she almost never does that), mainly because of the even-fluffier-than-her-usual-fluffiness visuals, but also because one of the reasons i love Nanahira is because her voice is actually very touching when she sings more calmly (see track 4).

Well, while not totally relaxing, i do like the slower stuff she's been going for lately, since her stuff is usually very upbeat, it's nice how between this and "It's a Message for You" she's been putting more "vibe-y" stuff in between the usual 200bpm madness. Something else that picked my interest on this one is that apparently the physical version comes with a manga, which as an overseas listener is out of my reach but the previews i saw on twitter were very cute, so it made me extra curious.

youtube

A back to back yosumi release? What world is this we live in??

Well, while it is a lot less tracks than her previous EP (which was more like an LP) it's still just surprising to see her at all. It could be just me, but i feel like she's been getting out there a lot more lately, like anytime i go on Twitter (which i do very sparingly these days) i see a post of hers, and i don't think that's how it usually was, but then again i'm very forgetful and it could be just normal. Whichever way, good for her, it can only be a good thing.

I really like the instrumentals on these, i know she's closer to the Electronica and EDM scene but dang if the mixing on those guitars and drums isn't just soo satisfying to hear.

youtube

Yuuri's got her first album ready! I've been keeping tabs on her since the NaYuri singles and i've been really enjoying her stuff so far. Her vocals are right up my alley, and from the looks of it she's going for that modern chill "slow-pop" vibe, which i also like quite a bit.

Also also, can i just say that for a first album this is incredibly well put together, the visuals are simple but very well made, and the mixing on the tracks is top notch. I noticed she has been getting some work on other albums but i do hope her solo stuff pops off because this is good stuff and i feel like she can make it very far with it!!

youtube

Here's one i ran into by chance, this actually popped up on my Twitter feed because the illustration is by an artist i follow, so i decided to check it out. I can't place it but i feel like i've seen the front girl, NoiR, before, like her design and name feel very familiar to me but i can't tell from where.

I'm not completely sold on the songs just yet, but i do think it might be worth keeping up with the group, they seem to have been at it for a while now and it could be interesting to see where this goes.

youtube

I absolutely love the vibes on this! Both of their voices are very gentle and easy on the ears, and they seem to have a very good grasp on how to blend them together. Not only that, but the instrumentals are also very well recorded and mixed, and go perfectly with their vocal profile.

I couldn't check both of them out in detail, but it seems that this is a very new unit, so i'm gonna keep an eye out to see what else they do.

And... that's it, again, i didn't check the whole playlist, so i definitely missed a few. But for my first time actually sifting through XFDs this extensively, i'm surprised not a whole lot caught my attention, considering i usually find something to like on pretty much anything. A lot of it was just instrumentals, or they had vocals that didn't particularly speak to me all that much.

Also, while i knew that male utaites are the minority in events like Comiket, i'm surprised that i didn't come across any looking through these, though, seeing the amount of kawaii pop in there i can see why they wouldn't find much of an audience there.

(also also the handful of ai generated album artworks there was a major bleh)

Well, while i did enjoy a couple of the albums, it wasn't particularly worth scanning the whole playlist for them, so i'm not that sure that i'll be as inclined to do another XFD deep dive on next M3. I did check out the XFD's from other big utaites that i don't follow (like Risa Yuzuki or Wotoha) and i liked it, but i'm still not super sold on them either.

I suppose i'll be sticking with the utaites/composers i already know for the time being. Now to wait for all of these to come out on streaming...

#Also also in tangentially related news both Kano and Tenjin Kotone are back to making music within like a week of each other and of this #That's awesome!!! And also kinda crazy it's so much to keep up with #utaite #nayuta #sennzai #aitsuki nakuru #natsume itsuki #m3 2024春 #zero types a lot

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teamdilf · 1 year

Note

J. J I am so. Excited. Because you have the prim and proper estate politics and I —

Happy WBW btw

— HAVE to know about shit that would totally get my ass kicked out of one of those fancy parties. Swears, rude gestures, etc.

Fancy estate parties consist of the following:

Fundraisers with nice dinners, auctions, etc.

Private events in someone's home (which may or may not have a fundraising element to it).

Political events (once a year the parliament building opens its senate room to the highest-ranked in the Hierarchy and it's generally expected that you attend).

At these events, it's generally expected that you behave in a deferential manner towards those who are of a higher tier than you are, but also those who are in a higher social class than you (IE, a general might be required to behave in a deferential manner to the head of an estate household). This is a bit of a deep, dark secret because the Hierarchy makes a big deal about its citizenship tier, and those outside of this world assume that merit is the only thing that matters at these levels, but just like every other society... money matters too.

So, failing to be appropriately deferential is one way to get your ass booted from one of these events. There is (usually) some grace given to those new to this level of social gathering, who may not understand this unspoken rule. But people like Adrien who just don't give a fuck? Well... it's a good thing he did all he could to avoid those parties as a general until he was senior enough that Fedorian couldn't really kick him out (but could give him a chewing out).

A common rude hand gesture in the Hierarchy that translates as "go fuck yourself on a stick of dynamite" is a good way of getting yourself blacklisted. The gesture consists of a jerking off motion, followed by a hand flourish to signify an explosion, and is generally regarded as a juvenile insult.

Causing a scene is a massive no-no. Even if someone is behaving rudely towards you or your family, you're expected to just... keep your mouth shut and accept it for the sake of not causing trouble. Picking a fight in a dress or suit is seen as gauche, which allows the very worst of the estate turians to get away with a whole lot because nobody wants to risk gaining the reputation of "the person who was kicked out of that party that one time". In a way, it's seen as a form of hazing - if you tolerate the crass insults, when you have inherited your own family's estate, you can do the same thing to the junior little rich estate kid that's irritating you. Calling someone out on their shitty behaviour is probably the single worst thing you could do.

That being said, there are limits to the rude comments/hazing. Insult someone's family - yes. Demean their appearance - sure! But don't you dare insult their professional competency or imply that they don't deserve their rank! No, that'll get you booted out (and possibly challenged to a duel or fist fight).

Wearing clothing that's deemed unsuitable (not a designer label, ill-fitting suit or gown, dirty shoes) won't get you kicked out of most events, but you will get a ton of side eye and people will gossip about you for a long while. It's expected that you know how to dress and, if you don't have the credits to buy a proper outfit yourself, you will rent one, or wear your military dress uniform (which is always accepted at these events, though most will know you lack the means to purchase your own outfit).

(As a side note, this last rule is one of the reasons why Adrien pointedly refuses to dress in anything aside from sweatpants, shorts and a t-shirt (usually with a rude slogan on it) unless he has to. He was practically born in a fucking suit and they hate him anyway, so he's going to be comfortable, dammit. It's a small bit of rebellion that makes him happy. Also, he wore sweatpants underneath his suit pants at his parents' funeral just to prove a point - though Tullia is the only one there who knows it.)

Sex in the coatroom is also against the rules. Especially if you use a random's scarf to muffle yourself. Adrien and Tullia definitely never find that out for themselves; never ever.

Dick jokes are frowned upon too. Again, Adrien and his sister, Sabina wouldn't know that at all; they'd never make dick jokes about the life sized ice statue of a turian man at a party their parents threw.

#mass effect fanfiction #world building wednesday #World Building #Mass Effect World Building #Thank you!#asks

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drades-lair · 2 years

Text

Pregnant Stolas PT1

Fandom: helluvaboss

Pairing: Blitzo/Stolas/Striker

Rating: T for swearing mostly

Panic, panic was the only thing that described how Stolas was feeling currently. Three days ago, Stolas participated in the usual full moon activities with Blitz and Striker which was amazing like always unfortunately he’d forgotten about something very important. Nineteen years ago when he and Stella were trying to have Octavia, Stolas had consulted the grimoire where he found a spell that would allow him to potentially conceive the only problem was it wasn’t a single go spell...essentially after casting the spell Stolas would become fertile immediately then once again every 10 years for 2 weeks and of course this full moon had landed on the first day of those 2 weeks. Stolas had completely forgotten about the spell till today when he awoke feeling off, upon remembering the spells cycle Stolas started using his magic immediately to check to see if he was pregnant…he was. Luckily Striker and Blitz were off on a job currently leaving Stolas a bit of time to try to figure out how to tell them…especially Striker who on more then one occasion had expressed how he didn’t want to be a father. Stolas sat on the edge of his four-poster bed in the master bedroom of the palace with his head in his hands, heart racing at the thought he could potentially lose one of his mates or perhaps both if Blitz decided he didn’t want to have a child with him. Worst of all though was even if he told them there was no guarantee the egg, he lays is fertile making things even more complicated.

The imps returned 3 days later from their relatively simple job instantly becoming aware of Stolas’ odd behavior. Stolas could get busy with his princely duties however since they got back Stolas seemed to be busier then usual to the point it was more like he was avoiding them. Stolas would wait till they’d gone to bed before joining them, he wore more clothing specifically baggier clothing, he often ate in his office with the door shut and got so he locked the bathroom door when bathing. Blitz was concerned from the jump about Stolas’ behavior however Striker had been a little more reasonable with his concern simply assuming Stolas was stressed about work or something to that effect until that is a 2-week period passed with the behavior getting worse instead of better at which point even Striker was growing a little worried. The imps decided that perhaps a night together might put Stolas back into proper sorts thus one night they stayed up unbeknownst to Stolas surprising him when the prince entered the bedroom to find both imp’s waiting for him.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were still awake,” Stolas nervously stated.

“We thought tonight would be a good night to have a little fun,” Blitz seductively explained with a little eyebrow wiggle.

“Oh…um…I see…” Stolas stammered nervously as he tried to figure out how to get out of this.

“Yeah, gonna treat Ya right,” Striker seductively drawled coming around behind Stolas.

“That’s…very kind…truly but…” Stolas stammered again desperately trying to find some excuse to get out of this.

“Just relax babe,” Blitz cooed, grabbing the hem of Stolas’ baggy gray T-shirt to slide his hands under it. Stolas immediately became alarmed at this action however his response was too slow, Blitz managed to slide the shirt up before Stolas could stop him promptly revealing the prominent bump Stolas had developed over the last couple weeks.

“Blitz, Stop!” Stolas declared only to stare in horror as Blitz looked on in shock.

“What the?” Striker questioned also staring at what Blitz could see.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you!” Stolas was in a full-blown panic attack, hands pulling down his shirt as he curled in on himself trying desperately to not make any eye contact with either imp, breath coming in short heaving gasps.

“Hey, whoa! Easy Stolas, look at me. Take a couple deep breaths,” Blitz encouraged, cupping his hands around Stolas’ face to make the prince focus on him. Tears pricked the corners of Stolas’ eyes as his gasps turned in to partial sobbing hiccups.

“Easy Stolas, easy…try ta breath through it,” Striker encouraged next, rubbing a gentle hand along Stolas’ back as the prince sunk to the floor.

“I should…told you…” Stolas sobbed as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“Told us what?” Blitz wondered.

“I’m…pregnant…” Stolas hiccupped.

“What!?” Both imps simultaneously exclaimed in surprise.

“That can happen?” Blitz wondered arching an eyebrow.

“Mm-hm…it was a spell…19 years ago…I forgot about it and now…you’re both going to leave me,” Stolas uncontrollably sobbed burying his face in his arms, wrapping them around his knees.

“Whoa! Where’d Ya get that idea?” Striker asked a little taken back by Stolas’ out burst.

“Oh please…you’ve already told me you don’t want a child and…I’m sure…neither of you appreciate me…keeping this from you…trust was everything…between us…” Stolas rambled through tears.

“Stolas…that’s not true…we’re not going anywhere,” Blitz tried to reassure his distressed mate.

“Yeah, we’re still here aren’t we,” Striker added.

Blitz gently rubbed his hand up Stolas’ forearm while Striker continued rubbing the prince’s back, leaning in to nuzzle at Stolas’ temple. After a few moments Stolas lifted his head slightly prompting the imp’s to gingerly pull him to his feet, guiding him to the bed where they settled on either side of the Goetia. Stolas still pulled his knees to his chest while refusing to look at his mates, simply staring straight ahead with tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“So how did this happen? And have you been pregnant this whole time?” Blitz asked gently.

“Yes, when me and Stella were trying for Via, we were having trouble conceiving so I consulted my grimoire to see if there was something that would help…I located a spell that would allow me to conceive in Stella’s place. We were desperate so I cast the spell…it would make me instantly able to conceive…but…it was going to be a permanent spell. Once every 10 years I’d be able to potentially conceive again for 2 weeks.” Stolas began to explain.

“When did it happen?” Striker asked.

“On the full moon…I completely forgot it was coming up…I’m so sorry! I’ve not had anyone for so long…normally it’s not really a problem,” Stolas exclaimed starting to sob again.

“It’s okay…you don’t need to apologize,” Blitz assured Stolas rubbing his shoulder for comfort.

“Blitz is right, don’t stress yer self,” Striker agreed.

“Look, explain how this all works,” Blitz encouraged.

“Well, in about 2 more weeks I’ll be laying,” Stolas sniffled.

“Wait! You’re going to give birth in 2 weeks?” Blitz wondered once again taken off guard.

“Yes, in the Goetia family we’re only pregnant for 5 to 6 weeks then we lay either one or two eggs,” Stolas explained.

“So, in two more weeks we’re going to have a baby?” Blitz asked seeking confirmation.

“Um…not…necessarily…just because I lay doesn’t mean the egg or eggs will be fertile. We can have duds,” Stolas continued.

“Oh…there’s no way to tell before hand?” Blitz wondered curiously.

“No, we’ll find out once I lay…but…there’s already something strange…I’ve gained so much weight…more then what should be normal for even two eggs,” Stolas explained in a concerned tone, shifting slightly to pull his shirt up.

“Have Ya seen anyone about it?” Striker asked returning Stolas’ concerned look.

“No, I was afraid you two would find out if I tried to see a doctor,” Stolas sheepishly admitted.

“We’ll need ta fix that…Ya need to take care of yer self,” Striker insisted.

“I have a doctor I can call…she’s the royal physician…I just haven’t,” Stolas explained.

“Good, you’ll call her first thing tomorrow and get you looked at,” Blitz insisted.

Stolas gave a nod of agreement as the two imps settled by him, eventually all three of them falling asleep. The next day Stolas called the royal physician to have her come check on him as agreed however the out come of the exam was not what any of them were expecting, Stolas was fine luckily yet he was currently carrying 3 eggs instead of 1 or 2. In the history of the Goetia family there had never been 3 eggs laid at one time let alone all three being fertile now of course at this stage the physician couldn’t tell if they were fertile or not but the fact Stolas was carrying three was enough of a surprise. The physician agreed to keep a close eye on Stolas till he laid which she’d also help with in about 2 weeks time.

#Helluvaboss #Helluvabossfanfiction #HelluvabossBlitzo #HelluvabossStriker #HelluvabossStolas #Helluvabossfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Blitzo #Stolas #Striker #Romance #Angst #Drama #Mpreg #Humor #Cuteness #Comfort #Mates

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ariswolfram · 22 days

Text

Tlahulia-Coatl

I decided to do a nice lil' lore drop for a species I made which I like. I hope I got everything down properly. If you want me to put extra description onto something, or notice any spelling errors, then don't be afraid to tell me so I can fix it up!

Appearance

The Tlahulia-Coatl (often just called "Coatl's") are an anthropomorphic species of constrictor snakes, often seen as the "Greater form" on their home planet. Their main body's scales range in a variety of darker-toned colors, like onyx black, obsidian purple, grey, and dark gray-blue. Some Coatl's have one set of arms and legs, while others may just have a set of arms. Rarely, a Coatl can have two sets of arms (Though that is barely ever seen). One thing every Coatl has, is a snake hood, which display their ✨absolutely fabulous✨ color patterns on both the front and back of them. (Defined below)

When standing, they can range from 6' (182 cm) to 7' 6" (228 cm); Their massive tails on the other hand vastly range in size depending on the person. Going from 12' (3.65 m) long, up to 40' (12.19 m) long! Though the size of their tail completely depends on the ritual done (Defined later), and how well fed the Coatl is.

Running down their backs, along the top of their arms, and across their hood, is a beautiful array of various patterns and colors. These patterns are different from Coatl to Coatl, and can range from floral, swirly, and angular., to completely abstract and otherworldly in complexity.

Among the colors and shapes in their pattern, one of them will be the most dominant. This pattern/color will have a vibrant, bio-luminous glow to it, and will also define the kind of venom the Tlahulia-Coatl has access to. Though sometimes (Rarely), these colors can be misleading, hiding the Coatl's true venom through a guise of a more common color.

Colors like Green (Acidic), Yellow (Paralyzing Agent), and Red (Potent Poison) are by far the most common of the venoms. More uncommon colors like Blue (A hallucinogen), Orange (Sleep Inducer), and Pink (Hypnosis/Charming) can happen naturally, but mostly happen through rituals. The more rare colors, being Mint Green (Polymorphic), Black (Confusion/"Soul Shift"), Purple (Insanity/Madness Inducer), and White (Petrification) can only happen through use of rituals. And as a result, make the ritual much longer and much more painful.

Language

The Coatl's language (Called "Xzeaɸl"; "ɸ" is a softer sounding F, as they cant exactly press their teeth to their lips in a sane manner as to make an F sound sharp) consists of a variety of sharp sounds, hisses, and low growls, which they mix together to form short words. Because of the way their words are constructed, each sentence is spoken in a slower manner to make understanding it easier, though this is more seen as a "Proper speech etiquette" than anything. Coatl's can speak rapidly if they so wish, though they normally reserve such things for when they are angry, or around people they like.

Another thing on speech etiquette, is if a Coatl speaks too slow. Doing so is seen as rude and uninviting. (When i say "too slow" here, i mean it. Imagine if someone spend a whole minute pronouncing a single word... That's what i mean.) Coatl's often do this to spite others.

Tlahulia-Coatls have a very hard time pronounce L's, and other sounds that require complex tongue movements. As a result, they pronounce their own species' name as /Tia-huia-Coat-eis/.

Fact no one wanted: The Xzeaɸl language has around 4,790 different swear words, not including combinations...

Religion

Tlahulia-Coatls follow a religion they call Khalsan/Khalsanism/Khalsanic. (Yes, i just said they cant pronounce L's, but its named this way for a reason, as the Coatls were originally a Humanoid species called "Alvari"... Plus, the Coatls pronounce it more like /Khae-saan/, anyways)

Their religion is highly complex, and based around making more people into Coatl's through a long (and painful) ritual as a rite of passage.

When the religion first started, the Alvari choose–instead of following any of the actual and literal Deities of the Hyperion Astra–to follow a Deity that doesn't fucking exist. His name is Xhaviel, and is depicted through stories and past scripture as being a complete badass. In reality, the reason this very-not-real god exists is because of Null, the god of Chaos.

Null pulled a fucked up prank on the Alvari one day cause he was bored, and told them, "You will become kick-ass snakes if you do this ritual. I, Xhaviel, made sure it would work just for you," effectively saying they would be blessed if they did it.

The Alvari–being the idiots they were–believed him, cause why would you deny god's word? The first several attempts resulted in many dead bodies. This was because the ritual wasn't an actual thing... From what Null knew. After about 50 attempts though, the Alvari somehow made the ritual work, and they became the Tlahulia-Coatls of today! (Woooooo-)

In present days, the ritual has been expended upon to allow those who wish to do it the ability to (Vaguely) decide how their form looks. Adding various herbs, spices, and foods to it in order to change the pattern, color, and overall shape of the Coatl they are to become.

The more things that are added to it though, the more painful the ritual gets, and the longer it takes to complete. Normally though, this ritual takes no more than a few hours...

The Khalsanic belief follows several gods in the Hyperion Astra, being:

The God of Coatls: Xhaviel (Who in reality is Null, but everyone ignores that fact out of spite. Even today when its well-known.)

The Goddess of Cuisine: Culara (Who is, in fact, the actual Coatl god.)

Goddess of Recovery and Health: Salus (She is just a large ass moth.)

God of Corruption and Forbidden Knowledge: Covenant (So they can actually preform the ritual...)

And, the God of Transformation and Change: Evo (Once again, for the ritual... Also because he is a snake as well.)

Culture and Society

The Coatl's society heavily revolves around cooking, baking, and other food-creating forms. All Coatl's are able to cook, and can cook so well it's basically threatening. Their cooking culture is so heavy, they often see it as a normal thing to cook so damn much, and to cook as well as they do. When in reality it isn't...

Coatls, being made from rituals originally, have a hard time with reproduction. As a result, their egg clutch is very small. Ranging from 1-3 eggs in a clutch, with only 1 out of every 6 hatching. It is also very difficult for them to get that far in the first place, as often times it doesn't really work out for them. As a result of this, The Coatl's will protect their eggs with their lives at any cost. Keeping the eggs home in comfortable nests, while watching over them is common. It doesn't matter who is the one protecting the eggs, one of the parents must be there to protect them.

Coatls, as a result of the above, are highly protective of anyone and anything they love. Especially if they have a close bond with said people.

Because of the low eg count, they are less likely to abandon their children or put them up for adoption. Though, they will put eg's up for adoption if the parents are dead, or the eg's aren't being properly taken care of. Same goes for children.

Much like Kasrena, if a Tlahulia-Coatl spots an unsupervised child walking in public with no visible parental figures around them... They will just... Take them in, and take care of them. They do this so often, it has become a problem with the other factions in the Hyperion, often leading to legal action. Their response? "You're own damn fault for leaving them alone, unsupervised, in the middle of the street. What else am i supposed to do? Leave them to die?"

Faction

The Tlahulia-Coatls live among a Faction called the "Coatl Consensus", which is a conglomerate of the various Coatl tribes found on their homeworld, 'Fashkost Delta', and their many colony worlds.

These tribes meet together often to discuss the Faction as a whole, and to make sure the Faction's Supervisor (Effectively the person who speaks for the faction as a whole) is acting appropriately.

The Coatl Consensus deals a lot with the import and export of baking goods, along with selling the services of the cooks and chefs in the Consensus. One of their most expensive exports, Sacrem, is what gets them the most money out of everything.

The Coatl Consensus was officially founded on the year 789 P. D. (Post-Divergence), and officially recognized as a faction in the year 833 P. D.

The current Supervisor for the faction is a man called "Sarim den Firiam", who deals with any issues revolving around the faction.

#lore #lore drop #oc lore #singural hyperion #story #lore dump #infodump #monster #monster fucker #world building

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the-firebird69 · 25 days

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This man is not a superior it's it's Ronnie James Dio tomb his song last In line and he is not the first and last oin line. He is the one who keeps dying and saying all sorts of lies because he doesn't want to lose power and other reasons. We don't like him. We want them dead permanently we want and all the trumpsters and they're sitting above threatening with nuclear attacks all the time and they're losing but they are constant fuming assholes and I swear they don't know what's below these people are idiots there's stars is in caches get emptied out quite often and they think it's due to rotk they have people who do it and they're telling them that because they don't know where the hell it's going and they're taking a bunch of it. So he asked them today where is it going and they said we don't know we have some of it but a lot of it goes missing and he says it's a chaotic Mess good you still work for me and the problems that every single one of them and he started to get a little angry and he said what I'm saying is wrong and we're splitting up it's wrong and they said your AI boy and we need our stuff that's what's happening

Thor Freya

Olympus

What you doing in saying is encouraging me to do stuff yeah and he says so what I do understand something we might be facing something else and we're stupid and he says we're stupid and the max are below in some instances and it should explain it everyday is a diatom trying to explain something simple to me he says and is barfing puking f****** loser slime low life idiotic ignorant piece of s*** so I decided to look we did find some mac proper saying it you know what we're sitting on top of a lot of their ships and everybody is making fun of us cuz we're so stupid and that's a problem and they're taking our stuff and Christy has a right to be mad and he said it too they're probably just going to take it from you so stupid that's what's happening

Trump we don't have a plan to take him over when they're done we can arm them ourselves this blows

Olympus so his son says it does come out better when the max do it so people don't believe him and that's fine we're doing it too

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luvnami · 1 month

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shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 1 (kill me)

ɞ an | yay!! the first chapter :3 i'm still working on this fic, so updates won't be super fast. i hope you enjoy it, likes/comments/rb are appreciated. do let me know what you think about the fic! find the masterlist here ɞ cw / wc | second hand embarrassment, office!au, manager!sanemi, masachika is your work bff, mdni (18+), 1.8k+

“I’m sorry” is a phrase that practically lives on the tip of your tongue. The last meeting minutes were botched by the intern? I’m sorry. You’re this old already, and you still don’t have a boyfriend? I’m sorry. Christ, don’t you have a single working brain cell in your head? I’m sorry.

Though, the last one wasn’t exactly all your fault, you swear. It’s that white haired, purple eyed, exceedingly handsome - Scratch that, annoyingly handsome, coworker of yours. Shinazugawa Sanemi enters stage left. He’s exactly five feet and ten and a half inches tall – not quite tall enough to round it up to six feet – something you insist is terribly insulting for a man of his ego.

You cling desperately to this useless piece of information, as if it evens out the score of everything horrible that man’s ever said to you. After all, all you do is piss His Royal Majesty Shinazugawa off. Hell, you breathing next to him was enough to make his eyebrow twitch that one time.

You’re not quite sure why Shinazugawa was born with a pretty face but an awful personality. Seriously. If god plays favourites, Shinazugawa must be their favourite child, with a jawline so sharp that it must have been chiselled out painstakingly by hand. Maybe he was better off working as a con artist, sucking money out of desperately lonely ladies, rather than slaving away at a boring nine to five. Especially when he’s your manager, and especially when he has a knack for yelling at you for any damn reason.

A roar of your name makes you wince.

“Ah, there he goes again.” Your cubicle neighbour, Masachika Kumeno, peeks over the table divider at you. “Didn’t you send him the documents he needed before the deadline?”

“Yeah. He probably found some other stupid thing that wasn’t perfect,” you grumble. “I made sure to use the right margin space this time, too.”

“Well, you know him.”

“Sure, sure.”

You barely have time to get out of your office chair before Shinazugawa shouts for you one more time.

“Jeez. Impatient fuckhead,” you mutter.

Masachika chuckles under his breath. You hurry to lock your laptop, push your chair in, and race to Shinazugawa’s office next door before he screams for you a third time. You knock on his door tentatively.

“Shinazugawa? You called for me?”

Yeah, right. As if he hadn’t nearly brought down the entire office building with the sheer power of his lungs.

You open the door to see him with a cloud over his face. A thunderous, dark cloud, you might add. You try to keep your own face impassive as you close the door behind you silently. It clicks shut and you shuffle over to the front of Shinazugawa’s desk, a neat stack of papers on the tabletop.

There’s a metal plaque with ‘Shinazugawa Sanemi’ printed in black serif font, then ‘Department Manager’ underneath his name. His table barely has anything on it. No pictures of family, no vacation souvenir, just a single pen in a metal holder, and his desktop monitor setup. All prim and proper (and pathetic, you think). Just how Shinazugawa likes things.

You shift your weight between your feet nervously. Shinazugawa is easier to predict when he’s loud and ruthless, with insult after insult raining from his mouth and a pointed index finger that seeks out every wrongdoing you have ever committed. Silence feels like treading on a glass bridge; your legs tremble with every step, aware of the non-zero chance of a life-threatening fall.

Despite the knowledge that Shinazugawa’s upset at you (though the reason remains unknown for now), you can’t help but appreciate the white hair that falls perfectly over his eyes, framing his equally perfect face. Even with the scars that stand out against his skin, you’re no idiot to admit that Shinazugawa’s handsome.

Damn it. Not everyone’s just as lucky.

Shinazugawa never wears a tie. Not at your job interview, not at the meeting with the CEO, and definitely not today. His white dress shirt is rolled above the elbows and his unbuttoned collar reveals the gentle notch between his collarbones. Utterly disgusting. Or so you try to convince yourself, because admitting that Shinazugawa’s handsome is one thing, and confessing he’s hot is another.

“Did you read through the documents before you sent them to me?”

Ah. The glass bridge cracks and you falter.

“Yes, I did.”

“Are you sure?”

The nerve. You resist the urge to say Yes, Princess Shinazugawa, I did in fact check my work before I submitted it.

“Yes, I’m sure I did,” you manage to get out through gritted teeth. “Then why are all your references for the second quarter of 2022 wrong? Also, what the hell does ‘The client has decided to…’”

The glass shatters and you freefall into Shinazugawa’s daily tirade. You wonder if there’s a slim chance that you can go home on time this week. You miss getting an actual night of sleep for once.

“Do you hear me, or are your ears too blocked?”

“I’m sorry. I hear you, I��ll make the amendments right away.”

“That’s what I thought,” Shinazugawa huffs, then chases you out of his office with a dismissive flap of his hand.

Oh well. You guess it’ll be a long time till you see your bed again.

You spend the rest of your day working on the documents that Shinazugawa rejected. By the time 5pm rolls around and the office has cleared out, you still have a long way to go.

“Good luck on the grind,” an oddly cheerful voice startles you.

Only then do you realise that you had been slouched over your desk, shoulders caved in to the point that you look like a curled up shrimp. You sit up straight with a heavy sigh.

“At this rate, Shinazugawa’s gonna have to rot in hell for the amount of overtime I’ve done,” you groan, stretching your arms far above your head with a ‘pop’ of your joints.

Masachika places a plastic bag next to your keyboard.

“Here’s your dinner, on me.”

“Masachika! Oh, bless you,” you cry out.

With a wave and another ‘good luck’, he turns to leave the office. You wish that was you, that got to head home on time. Oh well. The work isn’t going to finish itself, and you would sure like to avoid getting grilled by Shinazugawa for once.

Despite your commendable work ethic, your beloved manager will have to pay in blood if he wants to stand between you and dinnertime. You eagerly unwrap the bento box Masachika bought from the convenience store below the office, as well as the one, two, three cans of coffee.

“Thank you for the food, Lord Masachika,” you mutter gratefully.

You begin to dig into your food eagerly, savouring each and every last bite of room temperature rice and karaage. On your work laptop, you change windows to a personal document, something you had been writing for a while.

On days that you weren’t being treated as a workhorse, you had a hobby of writing fiction. Nothing crazy – just short bits about daily life, or a character from a show you watched recently. It’s pleasant, something that keeps you from going absolutely insane from job-related stress. Sure, maybe you have written about your own… personal encounters once or twice, and maybe that includes your absolute devil of a manager.

Who cares? Your blog has little to no traction, and likes or comments are few and far between. As mentioned, it’s just a hobby to let off some steam. If that comes in the form of writing a fic about how you hate to love your hot- sorry, handsome superior, then so be it.

You scrutinise your choice of words, absentmindedly shoving another bite of rice into your mouth. Maybe you should change that adjective. Swap the sentence structure around, add a little more detail about that scene…

“‘Admitting that your manager is handsome is one thing, and confessing he’s hot is another’. Huh. Interesting.”

You don’t even want to turn around. You know exactly who crept behind you and read those words that were meant for you and your three consistent readers alone.

The rice falls from your chopstick, landing on the desk and scattering into individual grains. You have enough sense to slam your laptop shut so quickly that a dull thud resounds through the empty office. Your face burns with pure embarrassment and you wish the carpet floor would open up and swallow you whole, because anything would be better than Shinazugawa Sanemi knowing you were writing fanfiction about him.

Silence descends on you like a heavy blanket, except you aren’t cold and the thickness is making you sweat uncomfortably. You don’t know if you want Shinazugawa to be horrified, to call you a ‘weird fucking loser’ and escalate the case to human resources, firing you on account of harrassment; or be smug about it and label you as the ‘writing freak’ of the office. Either way, you just want Shinazugawa to have some sort of over the top, mind blowing reaction, because that would be so much better than silence.

What follows is exactly ten seconds of pure silence, broken only by the hum of the office’s air conditioning system. You want to die.

“I expect the documents by 9am tomorrow morning. No mistakes this time, got it?”

Your relief is visible by the way your shoulders sag. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, moving to clean up the dropped rice to hopefully distract Shinazugawa from the awful situation at hand.

“Got it,” you reply nervously.

You hear him walk away from your cubicle, but don’t fully relax till the door to your department’s office shuts fully with a thunk.

Oh god. You’re so fucking dead. Seriously, what sane person writes fanfiction about their manager? Forget it, you never want to see Shinazugawa Sanemi ever again. You need to quit your job immediately. Where’s that resignation letter template? Shit. It would take HR two weeks to process your resignation, and that’s two weeks too long. Maybe you should stage an accident, fake your death, fly to another country, and live the rest of your life under a fake identity.

As the delusion of you living on an unknown island with a comically large sun hat and fake moustache fades away, the realisation of adulthood hits you. Despite the utterly, despicably horrendous fact that Shinazugawa has seen your fanfiction of him, you still have to finish your work before you go home.

You clean up the rest of the rice with a tissue, wrapping an extra piece around the ball twice before tossing it in the bin under your table. You open your laptop again and close the window of your fanfiction with a heavy sigh.

“God damn it.”

#shinazugawa sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi fic #shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa fic #sanemi x reader #sanemi fic #kny x reader #kny fic #kny shinazugawa #kny sanemi #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fic #demon slayer sanemi #kny fanfic

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