#hello i am still immensely broken

[gutterfuuck]

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello hope you're well 👍 I've read all you're Bi-han fics and I'm obsessed with how well you write him 💗 Can I request a continuation of the one where he's S/O got severely injured? Maybe after they healed they were left with lots of scars and every time Bi-han see them (whether in bed or when S/O clothes don't hide them ) he feels immense amounts of regret. Perhaps to close off this theme they could both talk about the situation with S/O reassuring Bi-han that it happened once and never again . Sorry if this is too long or if it's too angsty feel free to dismiss it if you're uncomfortable with the prompt 👍

I’m doing well and thank you for reading my stuff for I was certain that like half of it were shoddy due to character inaccuracies 😂 but at least I’m doing something right!

Part 1

‘I can feel you staring Bi-Han.’ You stated and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold it against him. After finally waking up from your comatose, the first thing you saw as the bandages were taken off was scars of every kind imaginable; Some were crisscrossed with others whilst others took up an entire limb. There was no denying that you could have died in the medbay that very same day you were brought in but no, you were extremely lucky to even have been able to wake up from all that.

You were blessed with another chance to live but none of that mattered to you, what did however was seeing Bi-Han at your bedside looking worse for wear. His silken raven black hair was disheveled and unkept compared to it’s usual style, his dark eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark bags underneath them only proved to further push this narrative of a man who hadn’t had a descent nights sleep in a long while. He looked so unlike the Bi-Han you knew that when you reached out to stroke back a couple of loose strands from his forehead, he was quick to firmly grab ahold of your wrist before looking at you, you could clearly see the hurt and the brokenness within them.

‘I could’ve been there,’ Bi-Han said his eyes would linger on the long, jagged scar that ran diagonally across your back, ‘no, had I known what I know now, I would’ve stopped you from going on that mission.’ The guilt was still eating him up from the inside it seemed and it absolutely broke your heart that he felt fully responsible, and yet in Bi-Han’s mind, he was and should be held responsible for your predicament. It didn’t make things better that whenever he saw the scars that were now a permanent part of your body, he was reminded that he failed you on all accounts and he swore to himself that he’d never let it happen again.

Even if that meant having to withhold you from participating in future missions for the foreseeable future, Bi-Han will do it. He just couldn’t go through all that. He had already emotionally destroyed himself from almost losing you, loosing valuable sleep in exchange for watching over you, and so on and so forth that he doesn’t think that he could do it again. For every time he closes his eyes, all he saw was you lying in the medbay almost lifeless, it continued to haunt him well after you were dismissed by the medics, leaving him to determine whether or not you were fit to head back out there.

You were quick to slip on your night shirt before joining Bi-Han in bed and reaching across to hold his hands without your own, brushing your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself Bi-Han.’ You started. ‘You didn’t know and you shouldn’t hold it over yourself either, it’s not healthy and you’ll end up running yourself into the ground with guilt that isn’t yours to begin with.’ You gripped Bi-Han’s hand tighter as you cradled it to your chest, pressing gentle kisses into his skin, in hopes of assuring him that you were with him and not some figment of his imagination. ‘I don’t to have the heart to watch you tear yourself apart. I was hurt, yes, but here I am. You can feel my hand holding yours, you can feel my body warmth and you can see that I am breathing.’

You stopped your speech halfway to look Bi-Han deep in the eye and asked; ‘Isn’t that all the proof you need to know that I am alive? that I am flesh, blood and bone and nothing else?’ But when he said nothing and avert his dark and tired gaze from your own, you huffed and hauled yourself into his lap, grabbing ahold of his face between you hands, whilst his hands immediately went straight to your waist as though it were routine for them. ‘Look at me.’ You say softly but revived nothing, not even a glance and it hurt. ‘Bi-Han I want you to look at me!’ You then exclaimed, causing him to look at you and not through you like he has been during these past couple of days as though you were a ghost.

‘This won’t happen ever again.’ You told him firmly, pressing your head against his, feeling him sigh as he relaxed within your touch; feeling confident in the fact that you weren’t going to up and disappear on him like his mind had made him believe. ‘How can you be so certain that this won’t be echoed later on.’ Bi-Han finally said. You smiled softly. ‘I can’t but you’ll just have to put your trust in me that it won’t.’ You knew that wasn’t the answer Bi-Han was looking for, but with the way he was holding you against him as though trying to meld you against him. ‘I’ll hold you to your word, but until then you’re under my supervision until further notice.’ He said against your lips that widened into a smile as you cuddled yourself further into his chest as sleep began to invade.

‘You say that like that’s a bad thing.’ You cheeked and you were certain that you heard him let out a chuckle. He was healing, healing slowly yes, but that was enough of a start for you.

[demonpiratehuntress]

hi hello dearie, hope this finds you well <3 i’ve been reading some of your Ace content for DAYS cuz is ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT and i have a hyperfixation for the man.

i have this oddly specific request if you’re taking requests ofc asksnakxm

ace and the reader meet each other when he saved her from potentially being killed by some random ruthless and murdering pirate, she was in that situation because he had killed some of her friends but that’s not the issue AKSNWKSB the thing is she gets mad because Ace saved her so she said sum “i was content with the fact that i was going to die, i didn’t need your saving” and he’s just stunned cuz? he just saved her???? two days later she thanks him but she tries to escape many times from the ship and those many times Ace ruined her plans so after a week of trying she gives up. THEN two years later they confess their feelings for each other after a day of Ace following her like a puppy and teasing her nonstop until she gives in

ODDLY SPECIFIC IM SO SORRY 😭😭 but it’s okay if you can’t do it <3

hi! thank you so much 😊 also im so so sorry this took so long! I've just been really busy! but i hope you enjoy this! to everyone else, i am still working on the other requests! i have much more than i realised 😂 but i will get them out...eventually

taglist - @kabloswrld

stubborn

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - the ask above! :)

warnings - mild angst

Run.

That's all you could think of, all you could do. There was no time or space to do anything else, and your body had already kicked into the fight-or-flight response. You weren't sure how far you could get, but you were desperate to get away.

The gory images of your friends lying sprawled out on the ground, drenched in blood, made itself a home in your mind. You would never be able to forget that, no matter how hard you tried. Swallowing back a sob, you sprinted towards the town as fast as your tired legs could carry you.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?"

A solid wall of muscle slammed into you from the side and sent you flying. You hit an actual wall with a sickening crunch, pain erupting throughout your entire arm. Dislocated shoulder or broken arm, you couldn't tell which one through the blinding agony. You screamed, more so out of pain than wanting someone to hear. You already accepted your fate, the minute he found you. But that didn't make it any less painful.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this kill the most."

A large hand grabbef a fistful of your hair, yanking you upwards to meet his cold, murderous eyes. He was grinning wickedly, taking pleasure in your pain, and watched you squirm in his grip helplessly.

"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with!" You spat, not knowing where the bravery came from because of the immense pain emanating from your injured limb.

He tutted, "No, you gave me too much trouble. I'm going to make this slow and painful, just for you."

"Now that's no way to treat a lady."

A bright orange light filled your vision, but you couldn't tell what it was as you were suddenly dropped, the man who'd murdered your friends letting out a pained yelp. You lifted your head, dots swimming in your vision, but you were able to make out the familisr form of flames dancing along the man's chest.

"Judging from all the blood on your clothes, I'm gonna guess you went a little crazy tonight," another man was saying, but he sounded childishly amused. "Well, too bad it ends for you right here."

You turned to look at the owner, just as he flicked his wrist and sent more fire the murderous pirate's way. Pretty soon he was engulfed in flames, screaming and pawing at his clothes while trying to extinguish them. You couldn't care less, observing the man who'd saved your life.

He was tall and muscular, pale skin lit up by the ball of fire hovering above his palm. No, wait, his hand WAS the ball of fire. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but black shorts, black boots and a red cowboy hat.

You'd seen him somewhere before...

"Ah, good. I thought that might take a while."

You turned back to the man who'd killed your friends and had been chasing you up until now, only to see a crumpled black heap on the floor a few feet away. Your eyes widened, before you were suddenly lifted up into a pair of strong arms.

"I didn't need your help," you blurted out, "I was ready to die! I didn't want to be saved!" Tears formed in your eyes. You had nothing left. You should have died.

Ace frowned, his heart sinking. Your words brought a familiar feeling back to him, one that he hasn't forgotten but had tried to push away after finding a family in the Whitebeard pirates. He knew what it was like to feel the way you did, and it tugged at his heartstrings to find someone else like that.

Someone who didn't want saving, but desperately needed it.

He's so shocked that he almost forgets you need medical treatment. When he finally remembers, he says nothing and hurries back to the ship with you, his mind racing.

-

Two days later, your arm is in a sling and you're walking around the Moby Dick looking for the raven-haired commander that saved your life. The crew was friendly enough to you, and Marco had suggested more bedrest, but you wanted to see and thank Ace.

It was true that you wanted to die, yes, but after facing the kindness of someone you didn't even know, your mind had slowly changed. You were starting to feel grateful towards him, grateful for being alive.

"Hey! You're awake!"

You turned at the sound of the cheery man, spotting him coming your way. You relaxed slightly, not sure why you were so tense to begin with but relieved to see him.

"Yeah," you breathed out, "Your doctor works wonders."

"That he does," Ace grinned, before eyeing you up and down, "You look a lot better. I didn't get your name, though."

"Oh, it's (Name)," you told him, "You're Portgas D. Ace, right? Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates?"

"That's me. Glad to know I'm popular with pretty women," he flirted, sending you a smile that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You blushed, flustered, "Well I-I just wanted to say...thank you. I hadn't realised it before, but I didn't really want to die. Just thought I had no one left, and nowhere to go. So thank you for changing that."

Ace's smile only grew, so much so you feared it would tear his face in two, "You're welcome! If I'm being honest, I was glad to play hero for a beautiful woman."

Your blush deepened, his charms affecting you in a way that nothing else and no one else ever had. You found yourself at a loss for words, but thankfully he was called away so you didn't have to say anything else.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

-

The first time you tried to escape, you didn't realise they had a rotational watch schedule. And you hadn't realised that Ace was the one who was on watch that evening.

"Hey, (Name)! Where ya going?"

He smiled at you innocently enough, but his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were trying to do. After all, he'd done the same thing back when he joined. You were just too similar to him.

"Uh...nowhere?" You tried to lie, but you sucked at it. You couldn't even convince a potato if you tried.

"Hmm," he clicked his tongue. "This won't do. Maybe I should just tell Whitebeard, or should I keep this to myself in hopes that it doesn't happen again?"

You agreed to the latter.

The second time, Ace was actually sneaking out of the kitchen with some food when he bumped into you. He raised his eyebrow as your eyes widened, your face giving away your intentions entirely.

He tsk'ed, "Again, (Name)?" He pouted. "You promised, you know."

You sighed and went back to your room, dejected. You could hear him laughing as he walked past your room, and you rolled your eyes as you laid back down to sleep.

The third time, Ace was prepared.

And he had made a trap for you. Which you fell right into, which is why you were now wriggling around in one of the smaller boats, wrestling with a net.

"This is getting old, you know," Ace chuckled as he loomed over you. "Trust me, I know all the tricks. I was you once."

After the fourth and fifth times, you gave up. Ace wasn't going to let you leave, and as the days went by and you got closer to him and the crew, you found your will to leave slowly sapping away. You eventually realised you wanted to stay, having found a family and healed - if only a little bit - with the Whitebeard crew.

One year passed, and you had almost forgotten about the man who'd tormented you. You'd had so much fun with the Whitebeard Pirates, Ace in particular, that you hadn't thought much of the incident. It was getting easier and easier to rid your mind of the gruesome image of your deceased friends month after month. Each adventure left you happier, lighter, and you soon found yourself finding happiness once more.

The pirate life was truly meant for you.

Two years passed, and your time with the Whitebeard crew had become the best of your life. They were practically your family now, and you spoke about and to them as such. You never forgot what happened to you, but you barely thought of it anymore. Not when your head was filled with thoughts about a certain 2nd division commander, with whom you'd fallen in love.

"Ace, stop!" You giggled as he scooped up some batter from the bowl you were mixing it in. You were baking cookies, but Ace was determined to be a menace and sneak in fingerfuls of batter each time you looked away.

"Can't help it," he whined, "It already tastes so good!"

"I haven't even baked it yet!"

"Well then imagine how amazing it'll taste after that!"

You knew he was trying to flatter you to get out of trouble, but you did not care because it was working. And you hated that it always worked, especially with him, because he made your heart race and gave you butterflies.

The days following that included Ace following you around, which you found a little strange since you didn't know why. He would never tell you the reason, always saying something stupid like "you smell good" or "im your bodyguard". You knew he was doing it to tease you, but you couldn't help feeling giddy over the fact that he was choosing to gift YOU with all of his attention.

"Okay, come clean for real this time," you finally approached him one night he was on watch, sitting down next to him. "Why have you been following me around? Teasing me all day, everyday?"

He turned to you, thinking for a moment before speaking seriously for the first time in his life, "Because I'm in love with you, (Name). I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't sure how you'd react or what you'd say, but that's what it is since you wanted to know so badly."

Your eyes went wide, heart thumping like a drum in your chest, "You...you're in love with me?"

He nodded, looking down at his shorts, "I am. These past two years, getting to know you...well, I never really considered the idea of love. But finding you changed that. We're so alike, but also different in ways that complement each other. If that makes sense, I'm not sure it does."

"It does," you smiled slowly, looking out over the water. "And that's really sweet. No one's ever said something so sweet to me before."

"Really? I find that hard to believe, you're so pretty and cute."

Cue the blush, "Yeah, well, I didn't really like anyone before you," you admitted. "Never paid attention to men much, until you barged into my life." You laughed. "You've made me feel so welcome, so comfortable, so happy. You've given me a sense of peace after what happened, and I'm so thankful to you for that. You saved me in more than one way, Ace, and I'm madly in love with you for it."

Your confession took a bit of time to register in his head, but once it did he was smiling goofily and grasping your hand in his. You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling as the two of you spent the whole night holding hands, watching the ocean, and - your favourite part - sharing many heartfelt, intimate kisses.

You were eternally grateful to and for Ace, the man who'd saved you without your permission but eventually earned your heart.

[dfortrafalgar]

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

It's time.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 30

[Prev] [Next]

2:00 AM, May 12th

A sudden jolt ripped you from your relatively peaceful sleep at around 2:00 in the morning.  Your body had been growing somewhat used to the Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to plague you for a better part of the previous weeks.

This was not Braxton Hicks.

The pain seemed to start in your smile before radiating outward, almost reaching the tips of your toes and the pads of your fingers.  You felt it deep in your core, a painful cramping, almost stretching sensation that made your stomach leap into your throat.

It was happening.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed and grabbed your phone.  You had it planned out.  Law was sleeping at the hospital in a call room.  His surgery was today, at 8:00 AM.  Your knees were shaking, barely holding your weight as another contraction began to pulse through you, making you lean back against your mattress and slowly sink to the ground.  Your water hadn’t broken yet, and you were spotting the day before, but your doctor said that was normal.

You fucking hoped she was right.

[Ugh… hello?]

Your voice barely reached the phone you held to your ear.  “Sh-Shachi… it’s happening.”

A sudden rustling and a pained-sounding grunt resonated through the speaker and the line went dead.  You crawled across the floor to where your hospital bag was stored, your hand just barely reached one of the straps when another cramp ripped through your abdomen, making you squeak out a pained whimper.

You heard your apartment door burst open, probably startling your neighbors, and frantic footsteps ran across your home and to your room.  The light in your bedroom flicked on, momentarily blinding you, and Shachi stood panting in the doorway.

“Penguin, I need some help over here!” he shouted, approaching you and taking one of your arms.

The second man sprinted into the room, helping Shachi haul you to your feet.  With Penguin’s arms still supporting you upright, Shachi grabbed your heavy hospital bag and began a mad dash toward your door.  

“I’m going to stay here with Bepo, alright?” Penguin muttered, sleep still heavy on his tongue as he helped you into the hallway and into the elevator.  

You were wearing a ratty pair of house slippers and your usual pajamas, but you barely had time to think about your appearance when you could feel your stomach contracting with each movement.  You had no idea what giving birth was like, but you were progressing fast.  The only thing you could respond with was a weak nod, clenching your teeth.  The walk from the ground floor to Shachi’s car in the front parking lot was a blur for you, the only thought in your mind being the immense pressure in your swollen belly.  It was only going to get worse before it got better, and the thought made your palms more sweaty than they already were.

You were helped into the passenger seat of Shachi’s beat-up car, barely having time to register your anxieties about this hunk of metal taking you to the emergency room in the dead of night.  Your hands involuntarily wrapped around your belly, trying in vain to soothe the pain that continued to throb within you.  

“Good luck!” Penguin called as Shachi closed your door and sprinted to the other side of his car, almost throwing himself over the hood.  The car rattled to life as he twisted the key in the ignition.  He carefully maneuvered through the dark parking lot, out onto the main road, and you were off.

—

5:00 AM, May 12th

Law’s circulating nurse was holding a walkie talkie.  It wasn’t often those were found in the operating prep room.  The team was pensively getting ready, donning their gowns, following their glove procedures, and securing their masks and face shields when the static-filled sound of the receiver flooded the room.

[The helicopter is landing.]

The patient was in the prep room, still completely intubated, barely clinging to life.  This operation was his and his family’s last hope at a somewhat normal life, free from tubes.  Law closed his eyes and shuddered a deep breath in, then out, before placing his own mask on his face.  A few hours ago in the stuffy call room he slept in, he was forced awake by a night terror of the mother whose son had passed away almost a year ago.  Her screams still bounced around his head like a bell chime, loud, obnoxious, and utterly petrifying.

He thought about you sleeping at home.

“Have I received any calls?”  He turned his attention toward his circulating nurse who had placed the walkie talkie down, another nurse helping him into his second pair of sterile rubber gloves.

She pulled his phone out of her pocket.  Nothing.  The only notification on his home screen was a text from the day before from you reading, ‘Good luck baby!!!  I love you!!!!’  She shook her head, placing his phone in her back pocket.

“Don’t be surprised if we receive any calls during the operation, my wife is supposed to be giving birth in a week or so.  It’s all hands on deck at home, but this operation is our top priority right now.”  Law flexed his fingers under his gloves as he watched his staff bustle around the prep room, preparing all their instruments and materials before retreating into the primary OR to receive the patient from pre-op.

“Got it,” she replied, her voice low and patient.

Law hated that his priority wasn’t with you when you needed him around most.  But in the face of the most important operation of his life, there wasn’t much he could do.

—

6:09 AM, May 12th

Shachi wasn’t allowed into the delivery room with you due to not being family.  The only one who would be allowed was Law, and clearly, he wasn’t going to be available in quite a while.  Shachi had tried to call him throughout your triage check-in, but his phone had gone straight to voicemail.  No surprise to you, a man was getting his entire chest cavity replaced across the hospital.

Still… you missed him.  A lot.  It was certainly a bizarre feeling knowing that he was technically in the same building as you, but across the expansive hospital campus and a few floors down.

Your loneliness was far more palpable in your delivery room, however.  The entire space seemed bland and boring, and you were already hooked up to more tubes than you were pleased with, which is to say, four tubes too many.  You had a hose in your nose for extra oxygen, an IV drip in your arm, and two electrode patches on your chest monitoring your heart rate.

Your contractions had lessened somewhat in the time it took for you to arrive at the hospital, and according to the on-board delivery doctor who greeted you in the room, you weren’t even dilated.  You still had a long way to go.  You had barely eaten the breakfast that was brought to you, the buttered biscuit looked far too gray for a piece of bread, and you were effectively running off of bland applesauce and a small dosage of pain meds.  They couldn’t give you any more until your active labor started, where you could then opt for an epidural.

But you saw that needle.  You were even starting to question that.

The few contractions you felt throughout the morning were intense enough, and you were barely mustering up the courage to prepare yourself for what was surely to come later in the day.  You were still holding out hope that your labor would progress naturally and that there would be no need for an emergency C-section, or any sort of emergency procedure at all.

Your body now had one job.  It had failed all the others, but now that you finally had a successful pregnancy, there was only one job left to do.

Your dazed staring at the ceiling was interrupted when the doctor who admitted you re-entered your room.  She had a calm smile on her face, slight bags under her eyes that displayed more of a long career in delivering babies than acute exhaustion, and the sight of her soft smile lines around her mouth immediately filled you with a sense of calm you had yet to feel all morning.

“Mrs. Trafalgar, how are you doing?” she asked politely, pulling up a chair and sitting by your bedside.  One of her hands rested on yours, a gentle pat for reassurance.  “I reviewed your patient history.  I see your husband is the leading cardiothoracic surgeon with our hospital!”

The fact that she immediately jumped to singing your husband’s praises instead of rapidly addressing the two elephants in your patient charts that read ‘Spontaneous Abortions at 7 and 12 weeks’ brought a smile to your face.  “He is.  I’m sure you’ve already heard the news going on down there.”

She rubbed your hand again.  It was then that you noticed she had her own wedding ring on her left hand.  She looked like the kind of woman to have a sweet partner.  “Indeed I did, it’s been the talk of the staff for months.  Our hospital’s first, and probably only, dual cardiopulmonary transplant.  Frankly, it’s an honor that your husband was chosen to perform the operation, there is no one better qualified than him.”

You picked your head up from the pillow that was supporting your neck.  The bed you were laying in was tiled up so you were more sitting rather than stretched out.  “Have you personally met him?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

She nodded.  “When he first got the position of lead surgeon, he was made to do a speech in front of the hospital staff to recognize his achievements.”

You remembered that day.  While you couldn’t attend due to your work schedule, he had spent the two weeks prior agonizing over what he was going to say.  He hated public speaking and everything involving it, so having to write a small speech was his worst nightmare.  You weren’t even married yet.  His reward for a successful conference was a steamy night in the bedroom with you, and as far as you knew, he did well enough that he came home and was immediately ripping his clothes off.

The doctor’s voice rattled you out of your daydream.  “It is a shame that he can’t be here right now,” she sighed.  “Hopefully your labor progresses slowly enough that he can be here for the actual birth.”

“I hope he’ll be here when they actually arrive,” you groaned.  “He’ll never let himself get over it if he misses it.”

“And it would be unfortunate for you, too, dear.  Don’t forget about you.”  Another hand pat.

You grinned.  She was right.  Your husband might have been one of the country’s most accomplished surgeons and was currently about to undertake the most daunting procedure of his life, but right now, you were the one preparing to birth two babies.

—

8:43 AM, May 12th

Law gazed down through his face shield at the exposed chest cavity of the man under the sheet on the operating table.  Multiple metal frames were holding his ribs open, his sternum sawed in half to expose the fragile, failing organs underneath.  His heart somehow was displaying visible wear, almost like a machine in a factory would begin to rust.  But both of his lungs were riddled with odd growths and morbid discoloration.

“Was it noted in his patient history that he has COPD?” Law asked, his voice displaying confusion rather than horror.  The poor guy was already getting two new lungs, it’s not like that would change.

“I’m not sure it did, Doc,” one of the nurses across the room maintaining the organ cart replied.  “Does he?”

The head anesthesiologist peered around his machines toward the open chest cavity.  “Yeesh.”

“Okay, professionalism, people.  Thank you for answering my question,” Law barked sternly, bringing his team back into strict focus.

The sound of the organ cart was filling the room with a foreign atmosphere.  It wasn’t like organ transplants on their own were very common in their hospital, but to have the giant artificial box pretending to be a human body supplying a constant stream of donor blood and oxygen to a detached heart and lung trifecta was quite a shocking sight for most of the nurses.  The heart itself was fully exposed, hoses connected to every valve.  It was beating morbidly with each pass of blood, circulating a non-living machine.  Some drops of blood from the exterior of the tissue trickled down the wet organ and collected in a small puddle at the bottom of the tray it was held on.  Some of the team could barely even look at it.

The heart had to be transplanted first, due to the way he was cut open.  They could replace the heart from the front, where his ribs were separated, but his lungs would have to be removed from the sides of his body, under the arms.  The scar tissue on the man was going to be quite the sight in a few months.  

The team was only about 45 minutes into this procedure.

Law’s shoulders were already sore.

—

10:00 AM, May 12th

Your phone was blowing up.

You had texted Ikkaku that you were admitted to the hospital and that your labor had begun, but was progressing slowly.  You didn’t think she’d be able to keep it to herself, but the sheer speed in which she had informed your other close friends was almost dizzying.  After only about 2 minutes, your phone began chiming with a near constant influx of messages from your friends and coworkers, all wishing you the best of luck with your delivery.

It was a weekday, afterall.  Ikkaku probably sprung up from her chair and sprinted around the office like the boy who cried wolf.

When the doctor said your labor would be progressing slowly, she meant it.  And you were already tired of it.  Two in the morning was already far too early for the human body to be functioning, and you weren’t able to get a lick of sleep in the hospital bed you occupied.  Each time your eyes fluttered closed, another contraction would ripple through your body and remind you of exactly where you were.

It had now been about eight hours since you were admitted.

Your cervix was 1 centimeter dilated, and your water had yet to break.

Nurses were constantly in and out checking on you and your condition, but conversation was rarely exchanged.  Instead, most of your time was spent in silence, staring at the bland burgundy walls of the delivery room, the machines you were hooked up to to supply you with fluids and oxygen, and the door to the rest of the maternity ward.

The door you wished would open to reveal your excited husband running to be by your side.

“How are you doing, dear?”  Your doctor popped her head in once more.  She entered the room fully and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Hanging in there,” you replied.  You were embarrassed with how dejected you sounded.  You didn’t intend to seem so… lonely.

The doctor positioned herself at the foot of her bed and gestured for you to maneuver your legs into the cold metal stirrups that connected at the end. The stirrups hurt your back enough as it was, and the weight of two babies against your spine did little to help, but you bared through it.

“You’re at about 3 centimeters now, you’re progressing very well!” she called, removing her head from between your legs.  “In another few hours, you’ll almost be ready to go!”

Your heart panged with excitement at finally giving birth, but also extreme desperation.

Your contractions were progressively getting closer and closer together.

You wanted Law.

—

11:51 AM, May 12th

Law’s phone rang from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  The entire team let it go to voicemail.  A human heart was being removed from an open chest cavity, clutched like a sacred, scarred treasure in the blood soaked hands of one of the surgical assistants, while the man was fully hooked up to the quadruple bypass machine.  He now had a mechanical assistant serving as his heart and lungs while they retrieved the new ones.  There was no time or energy to be spent on a phone call.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be bringing your phone in for this operation, doc,” one of the nurses said.  Law could hear the sarcastic grin from under the surgical mask.

“I thought about it, but I’d worry too much,” Law grumbled back, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile towel.

“You’re such a good husband,” the assistant anesthesiologist cooed from across the room.  “I hope my husband is as attentive as you are one day.”

Law felt blood rush to his face.  He kept his mouth shut while the organ box was wheeled over to the bedside.

—

12:10 PM, May 12th

[Hey, have you heard from Law at all?  How are you doing?]

Shachi’s voice over the speaker of your cell phone was able to clear your mind somewhat.  Your contractions were still even and decently spaced out, but you were growing more and more aware of every sudden shift in your body as the seconds ticked by.  “No, and I probably won’t hear from him at all until tonight.  The operation started only four hours ago, they probably haven’t even gotten to the lungs yet.”

[And you?  How are you holding up?]  The redhead reiterated his second question.

“I’m holding,” you muttered back.  “Doctor said I’m still about 3 centimeters dilated, so it’ll still be a while before I actually start, you know, giving birth.”

[What does that mean?  3 centimeters dilated.]

“That’s how large the opening of my cervix is,” you clarified.

A long pause over the phone’s speaker followed.  [What’s a cervix?]

You paused.  “It’s… the entrance to the birth canal?”

Another pause.

“Shachi… you know where babies come from, right?” you asked, your contractions suddenly the least of your worries.

[I do!]  His voice was defensive.  [When a man loves a woman and all that shit.  But what does a cervix have to do with any of that?]

“Have you…” your voice trailed off.  “Have you and Penguin made out yet?”

[Oh, yeah.  We made out, like, two nights ago.  Why?]

You considered your questions answered.

—

1:00 PM, May 12th

The entire room was silent as Law worked, his deft, experienced fingers expertly sewing up even the smallest of blood vessels in the donor heart.  It had been about five hours now since the start of the procedure, and everything was progressing as planned.  Even faster, at that, much to Law’s delight.  The entire team was working as one fluid unit, just as discussed for the months leading up.  When the front of the man’s chest cavity was repaired, however, was when the trickiest part of the procedure would begin.  The patient remained attached to the bypass machine as Law finished the final stitches on the aorta.  It would still be a little longer before he could be fully removed.

The man was filled with tubes.  Down his throat, down his stomach, in his chest, in his arms.  It was an incredibly uncomfortable sight.

The assistants worked in tandem to close up the chest cavity, securing all of the muscle, bone, and erroneous tissue back into place.  It was like putting together a very convoluted and high-risk jigsaw puzzle.

Now the lungs were next.

His phone rang again from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  Due to the small down time, she reached in and pulled it out, assessing the screen.

“It’s your friend, doctor,” she called.

“Text him to just tell you what’s up,” he asked back.  His mind had become so focused on the operation that he barely had room to think about anything else.

Hi, this is Dr. Trafalgar’s circulating nurse!  Is everything alright?

The three little dots indicating an incoming response appeared, then disappeared, then appeared, then disappeared again.  After what felt like an eternity, an answer finally came up.  A confusing one, at that.

Orca

Uhhhh idk how to relay this properly cus idrk whats happening, but tell him his wife is 3 centimeters dilated???

Oh god.

“Uhm…” she nervously called.

“What is it?” the stone-faced surgeon asked, his back to her as he assessed the organ transplant box that still contained two human lungs.

“Your wife is 3 centimeters dilated?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

—

1:15 PM, May 12th

[So I got handed over to that circulating nurse.  She said she’d tell him but she obviously couldn’t do much more.]

Shachi had called you back after hanging up the first time, just to inform you that he had finally gotten through to Law, or at least, Law’s cell phone.

You sighed in relief.  That was the most you could ask for.  You were just happy that he’d be able to know.  “Thank you, Shachi.  You’re not still at the hospital, are you?”

[Nah, I’m getting ice cream.  It’s hot as shit out.]

Lucky bastard.

—

2:30 PM, May 12th

Law had two sides.  Analytical and focused, and the Protective Husband.

In the operating theater, those two sides were in a western-style duel against one another.

In front of him was a near-comatose man with the left side of his ribs cut open, a withered, diseased lung slowly being removed from his body.  And on the complete opposite side of campus, two stories above him, you had begun labor.

And he wasn’t there.

“Doctor, I thought you said another week or so,” one of the female nurses asked, her voice both curious and concerned.

“That’s what I assumed,” he replied, his tone a bit snippy.  No one could blame the poor guy.  He was having babies.

“How far along is she, again?” another voice asked.

“35 weeks,” he replied, delicately slicing through a patch of diseased lung tissue.

“It’s premature?!  Oh goodness–”  One of the nurses began to freak out over the implication, but another colleague was quick to calm her down.

“With twins!  They’re having twins, it’s alright,” the other nurse explained.  “With twins, it’s far more common to be delivered somewhat prematurely.  If the rest of the pregnancy was healthy, there’s no need to be alarmed.”

Law was inwardly thankful from his colleague’s explanation.  If anything, she unintentionally lessened the tension in the theater by ten orders of magnitude, making it far easier for him to focus.  

The harder he focused, the quicker this procedure got done.  And the quicker he got done, the quicker he could run to your side.

—

4:00 PM, May 12th

It had been about 14 hours since your labor officially began, and you barely had a lick of sleep.  The hospital lunch had not been much better than the hospital breakfast, and now you were dreading the hospital dinner.

It didn’t help that your contractions were now substantially closer together, and your cervix was now 6 centimeters dilated.

Law was now in surgery for about eight hours.

One of the evening shift nurses was in the room with you.  She looked about your age.

You turned your attention toward her as she fixed another fluid drip onto your IV pole.  “How long do you think a heart and lung transplant should take?” you blurted.

Your question clearly caught her off-guard.  “Oh gosh, I mean… a single heart transplant is, like, six hours, right?  Give or take?”

Your head flopped down onto your pillow.  He was nowhere near close to being done.

—

5:30 PM, May 12th

The topic of relieving Law with another surgeon mid-operation was now floating around the theater.  Despite being adamant that he refused to leave in the middle of a procedure, his fellow colleagues were determined to let him go.  Maybe it was just the exhaustion getting to everyone.  They had just now removed the left lung and were preparing its transplant for insertion, and they still had one more organ to go.  He couldn’t leave.

“We’ll get this done a lot quicker if we all focus,” the surgeon demanded, insisting his staff return to their focused attitudes.

It was clear that everyone, despite performing their duties well and maintaining a smooth workflow, wanted Law to go see his wife.

One of the anesthesiologists was a mother to three, and was now being drilled with questions.

“How quickly did you dilate with your first?” one of the nurses asked.

It took a few moments for her to think about it.  “I think I was in active labor for about 24 hours in total,” she replied.  “It was loooong.  But, I was also only carrying one, and I was 41 weeks pregnant, so he was quite big!  I would imagine a 35 week twin birth might progress a bit quicker, since the babies aren’t quite as big as that.”

Great.  Just what Law needed to hear.

His worst nightmare was flashing through his mind as he began to suture the transplant lung.  You in crippling agony, screaming and crying with no support from the doctors or nurses, forced to give birth alone.  What if you hemorrhage in the middle of delivery?  What if the babies weren’t positioned properly?  What if you passed out or suffered spontaneous cardiac arrest?  What if one of the babies died during delivery?  What if they both died?  What if all of you died?

The assistant standing next to Law watched in awe as the surgeon, who clearly wasn’t thinking about the surgery, sutured arteries together with robotic precision.

—

7:05 PM, May 12th

You were quickly losing track of time.

8 centimeters dilated.  The doctor told you that your body would know when you needed to push.  And now, almost all the way there, with your room now flooded with staff preparing for your birth, you felt the need to push.

[mrsjellymunson]

Hello! 👋

Hi, hello, I’m Kittie and I’m obsessed with Stranger Things, plus other weird and bizarre TV and films. Welcome to my Masterlist! (Yes, I’m finally calling it that 😆). I’m married to Eddie Munson and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I write for Eddie Munson (x fem! or gn!reader) and sometimes Steddie, and a single Joe Quinn RPF has made it in here somehow. I hope to write for other characters at some point, and already have ideas for Mr Clarke and some of the girls.

I’m new to fandom (and old, in Tumblr terms at least), so I might get things wrong while I find my feet so please be kind. I’m new to writing but am enjoying myself immensely. I’d love to be friends so please feel free to message or ‘ask’ 😊

🔞🔞 Important: I post and share mature and dark content; DO NOT interact with my blog if you’re under 18 🔞🔞 I block blank, ageless and inactive blogs so if you want to follow me please put something in your bio, including your age/age range.

If you’d like to be on my ‘everything taglist’, or for anything specific, just drop me a comment, ask or message 😊

Content key:

💗Fluff ❤️Mature themes ❤️‍🔥Smut 🖤Dark themes 🌟Most popular 👌Personal favourite

MASTERLIST 👇👇👇👇

EDDIE MUNSON:

Series:

KNOCK AT THE CABIN (Eddie Munson x fem!reader, post-S4) Prologue❤️🖤 Part One❤️🖤 Part Two❤️🖤💗 Part Three❤️🖤💗❤️‍🔥

THE BIOLOGY TUTOR (Eddie Munson x fem!reader) Lesson 1: Female Anatomy ❤️❤️‍🔥🌟 Lesson 2: Male Anatomy 💗❤️‍🔥🌟👌 Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills❤️❤️‍🔥 Extra Credits 02: French💗❤️ Lesson 3: Human Reproduction💗❤️‍🔥 Extra Credits 03: Latin 💗❤️‍🔥 Extra Credits 04: Social Studies❤️💗

Oneshots, 5+1’s, short fics, drabs (newest first):

That Was You? 💗 (Eddie Munson x fem! or gn!reader) 1.6k. A meet cute in a record store.

Take Care of Me 🖤❤️💗 (Eddie Munson x fem!reader) 7.4k. Eddie rescues you after a disastrous date REQUESTED

The Boy Is Mine, Kittie’s edition: an Eddie Munson community-building writing exercise 💗❤️ (Eddie Munson x fem!reader) 1.6k. A romantic night in at the trailer, using prop & dialogue prompts

Candyman, Candyman, Candyman 💗 (Eddie Munson x fem! or gn!reader) ~2.1k. A Valentine’s 5+1: Five times you get to give Eddie a kiss, and one time he kisses you back

S.A.N.T.A. BABY 💗❤️‍🔥👌 (Eddie Munson x fem!reader) ~10k. A festive 5+1: Five times you embarrass yourself in front of Eddie, and one time you don’t…

Hello, Stranger 💗❤️🖤 (Eddie Munson x gn!reader) 6.2k. A stranger buys weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not sure what to make of it…

Thinking About Dom!Eddie’s Thighs ❤️❤️‍🔥👌 (Eddie Munson x gn!reader)

Something To Crow About 💗❤️👌 (Eddie Munson x gn!reader) Eddie dresses as Eric Draven.

Leaving Hawkins? Come Again Soon! ❤️❤️‍🔥 (Eddie Munson x Patrick Verona x fem!reader). Eddie and Patrick make your last night in Hawkins a memorable one (coming soon)

STEDDIE:

Ficlets/minifics, all <600words (newest first):

The Counter Argument❤️‍🔥 || Top & Tail💗❤️👌 || Turning P!nk💗 || Fool Me💗❤️

‘It’s My Birthday!’💗❤️ || Pin Me❤️ || The Edge of Insanity❤️❤️‍🔥 || Fill Me (dom!Steve)❤️‍🔥

Fill Me (dom!Eddie)❤️‍🔥 || Filler ❤️🌟👌 || Play Me💗 || What’s His Name Again?💗

Find Me ❤️🖤 || Teach Me❤️❤️‍🔥👌 || Steve’s Keychain💗 || Mud Cakes & Pancakes💗

Special Treatment v2❤️ || Special Treatment v1❤️

JOSEPH QUINN:

Happy Halloween, Love ❤️❤️‍🔥🖤 (Joseph Quinn x fem!reader, RPF) wc: ~4.4k. Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet

Fic recs (coming soon)

BTW if you come across anything like typos, inconsistencies, broken links or whatever please let me know, I honestly will not mind! 😍🙏

I’m still fairly new, but I already understand that comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of this site. Please support each other and share the creativity! 😘

[ochoashusband]

Hello again!

I loved your story about Male!Reader with an empathic healer quirk!

I was hoping for a part 2 of the story, in particular the class and Aizawa's reaction to the Male!Reader overusing his quirk, resulting in him passing out and learning more about the dangers his quirks puts him in, like damaging his body and mind, leading to his death if put to the extreme?

If not, that's okay!

Thank you again!

omg i didn’t expect for u to as for a part 2, tbh i thought it was pretty bad 😭 but i’m so so glad you liked it!! here’s the part 2 of:

CLASS 1A X MALE! READE W/ EMPATHIC HEALING QUIRK

Screams for help could be heard under all the debris that fell onto the citizens. A ginormous villain was running around town, crashing and breaking things in the process. Luckily, since you have your hero license and you’re with your hero agency, you were able to help some of the helpless citizens stuck under the rubble.

There were multiple people with wounded and broken body parts. “(M/n)! I found another one! Come quick!” Your partner yelled, roughly about 30 feet away from were you were standing.

You started running over there, your legs were getting tired and your hero clothes were covered in sweat. You didn’t know how many more people you could save, but you knew that you had to keep trying. Any one of these citizens could be losing their lives, you had to help!

You finally got to where your partner was, you looked down to find a person, arms and legs broken and their body all wounded, different cuts and scratches all over the place.

You laid your hands over their chest, your hands started flowing and suddenly you started to feel the immense pain flowing through your body once more. You tried to pull through, their ames and legs weren’t broken anymore, but you could still feel the pain.

It hurt, it hurt bad. You’ve been feeling the pain of all these citizens when you use your quirk, the exhaustion has finally caught up to you. You look down to see the person was healed. You could finally rest.

You couldn’t feel your body anymore, all you heard from your ears was a loud thud, before it all went dark. It was peaceful, there was no screaming heard, no noise of the rubble falling. Peace and quiet. “(M/n)! (M/n)! Wake up! Please wake up!” You could hear someone in the distance of the endless black void.

“(M/n)! You have to wake up!” Your eyes shot open. You looked up to see you were still in the same spot where you healed the last person. “(M/n)! Thank god your okay!” It was your partner, they’ve been waiting for you to wake up. How long has it been?

“What.. What happened?..” You asked, “You passed out!” It’s never gotten this bad. You? Passing out? It’s never happened before. You were worried you might be losing your quirk of something.

“Passing out? I never pass out!” You exclaimed, “Maybe you overused your quirk, you have to remember that even the most powerful have limits.” Your partner responded back.

Maybe their right, maybe you did overuse your quirk. “Oh, I see..” You said. Luckily, everyone was evacuated and you can finally rest now. The noise has quieted down and there is no more people to be saved, you can rest now, rest peacefully.

I just wanted to say that this was a bit rushed!! So sorry if this wasn’t what you were looking for!! I haven’t posted in about two weeks because school has been whooping my ass!! Super duper sorry!! But I hope you enjoy reading this either way!!! <333

[0ladyred0]

AVATARTWOW

~FAN FICTION ONE SHOT~

[Miles Quaritch x chubby f!Human reader]

<hello again! Thank you for the votes you make me inspired! Didn't actually think people would enjoy this but here I am! >

Third person:

You have finally made it to your destination as the creatures around you yelp in danger. That wasn't a good sign because they were alerting the Na'vi that we were here which is not good.

"Give me a minute, then we have to go imidietly" you said as you putted a syringe in vein of the plant to test if they are the right ones.

Quaritch signaled the others to keep watch. He wanted to be close to you no matter what.

"Imidietly? I thought you loved to be outside" He said so confidently. 'Loved?how does he know that i enjoy the outside? ' you thought.

"Haven't you learn anything from the past weeks outside?" you said getting a knife to cut the plant quickly. Quaritch noticed your worried face and got into serious mode.

"You heard those call right? They're altering the Na'vi that's we're he-" right before you could finish you saw arrows coming from the tall trees. Everyone rose up and pointed at the trees and started shooting. An arrow was coming your, you could feel your heart stop and knew that this was the end. But Quaritch's instincts kicked in, he pushed you out the way making the arrow land on the ground.

You felt thanked that the man saved you, but sadly you and Quaritch we're separated from the others and had to run the other way.

While Quaritch was faster and stronger, he knew that you were no where near his speed, and so he picked you up by the backpack and started carrying you on his shoulder which made you shoock. You knew he was bigger than you -literally- but you felt yourself blush because of the nice feeling being carried. Quaritch on other hand wanted to get far away a possible because he already counted how many Na'vi we're there, and he was outmatched. He didn't know where he was going, but as he turned to see if they were following him... He slipped and fell off a cliff with you on him still. Both of you started rolling down and getting injured but it eventually stopped and the both of you started to loose consciousness and fainted.

[Y/ns] perspective:

I woke up after the fall, I sat up and groaned because of the immense pain I felt after on my back and neck. You looked at my arms and legs and we're bruised up pretty bad. You thought for a second...

'QUARITCH!!' I screamed in my head. I stood up pretty quick for someone who has just fallen off a damn cliff and started to look around. Didn't scream his name because of the possibility of being heard by the Na'vi.

I spot his injured back and started to walk realizing that I had slightly broken left leg. I kneeled towards him and turned his body towards me to see if he was still alive. He looked unconscious. I putted my head on his chest to hear any heart beat and checked his pulse after.

Third person:

You loudly signed in relief that he was still breathing. You looked at his body more closely and spotted damaged stomach, face and shoulders. He had only a few wounds because of his avatar body, but you could barely walk. You had to do something, you realised it was getting dark and there was no sign of a helicopter. You checked the tracker on your neck and it was broken. You checked Quaritch's tracker 'damn it! ' his was also broken. You looked around yet again and spotted a little cave. You got the courage to get up and grabbed the stuff and started to walk towards the cave,it way far away and it hurt when You stepped.You had the samples luckily so it was important that they were safe.

You walked back towards courage and looked at his body. 'Damn' you though. You needed to carry him. You kneeled down and grabbed him by the arms and slowly started to drag him. You felt your left injured leg started to bleed. 'Shit..' looks like you weren't gonna make it. 'I need to give him a safe spot to wakeup' that incouraged you to eventually get him to the cave. You fall on your ass, exhausted of the long walk. You got his back pack to get bandages and but realised there weren't any!! You panicked, in response you knew you had bandages in your bag and reached for it. When you pulled them out of your bag you thought about bandaging him, or yourself. There wasn't much and so it was hard to decide. You glanced at him and thought how much more of a strong and more important person he was. You couldn't let your... Crush die... So you started to bandage his head. His waist was hard to wrap around because by God was he heavy to turn!

When you were done you went back to his head to keep it comfortably in place. You looked at your injured leg and started to realise that you were breathing heavy and feeling dizzy. You got your body underneath Quaritch's head and placed it on your stomach because it was the only thing you can think about to keep him comfortable since the bags were damaged and torned apart. You leaned back, feeling your eyes getting blurry and finally closed your eyes, thinking if Quaritch will make it...

Minutes have passed, and finally, Quaritch gained consciousness and woke up. He felt his head on something soft and so he reached his hand to see what it was. His hand trailed on the squishy rock. He felt confused when he reached a small hand, he shoot his body up when he realized what has happened before and looked behind him.

There you were, sleeping peaceful. He reached around his waist and saw the bandages, but they weren't e avatar bandages... They were humans! He looked at you and looked back and realised that you rather save him that yourself. He blushed at the thought of your caring personality. His ears perked up when he heard a helicopter coming his way, he stood up and started to walk in the open field. He saw the plain and started to wave to get it's attention. When the plain was coming towards him he Imidietly goed back to you and lifted you up, but this time he carried you bridal style. While the plain landed, he looked at your stupidity of how you should've bondaged yourself than bandaging him.

End of part 2

<Wow what a twist in environment, hope your enjoying this one because that other one will be the last one. And it will get heated, but not only in an argument ~>

[nineyellowgirl]

I'm alive!!!

Hello in 2024. Easter Sunday has always been my Simmer's Return time for some reason. Holy shit my bio still says I'm 19.

I'm not even sure if anyone still follows this blog anymore. I MISSED the community so badly, I missed sims, and I missed writing sim stories. This blog turns 11 in June and it's so surreal to realise this, honestly.

Where have I been? Well, mostly sinking the past 4 years into the terrible, terrible game known as Destiny 2 over at @flowers-of-io and writing fics for it on AO3. I'm 23 now, BA of Journalism & Media Studies, and I work in a newspaper. This is my rags (13 yo Simmer with broken English) to riches (well, still below minimum wage, but at least they PAY ME for WRITING!!!!) story.

I'm happy! I think it's important to say, because over my time in this community and running this blog I've gone through some of the darkest periods of my life, and I want to make a statement that Things Change and Hope Exists. I'm in a long-term relationship, living on my own, doing a job that I love, and pursuing therapy that helps me immensely. And I write every day. I'm happy.

Am I back? Maybe; that depends if my TS2 gets a grip and stops crashing randomly every now and then, because I've given up on trying to battle with my laptop to stop overheating when I so much as open TS3. Am I going to finish Postcards from Nowhere? I'd love to, but we'll see about that as well. I'm incredibly emotional to be posting here again if I'm being honest. This blog has been with me for almost half of my life and it's so odd to be coming back having left it half-desolate, feeling almost like a stranger in my own home. I truly hope anyone is still here.

And even if not, it's good to be back. I missed you.

[selenacosmic]

Hiya! Absolutely love ur blog. Could I request a MC with super strong and weird pregnancy cravings?? With Masamune, Nobunaga, Kenshin, Hideyoshi, and Shingen? Thanks, love!! Ofc, if you don’t wanna do the request do not feel pressured to at ALL. Hope ur having a good day (or night lol)!

Hello! I feel flattered that I like my blog! Thank you for requesting!

MC with weird pregnancy cravings.

Oda forces.

Nobunaga Oda.

Ever since you confirmed that you were pregnant, he felt an immense amount of joy, he was ready to take care of you in your times of need. Pregnancy was a bit dangerous during that time, but he would make sure to protect you and their baby. But on the other side… there was those strange craving of yours.

He had heard from his vassals that it was common for women to suddenly crave food that they normally wouldn’t eat, but on your case? It was a bit too… extreme.

“My love… must you really mix the Konpeito with the soup?” He knew that the candy wouldn’t have the same flavor after being mixed in there.

“Hm? Of course! It actually tastes delicious! You should try mixing sweets with sour food!” You may say that with a smile, but Nobunaga knew that wasn’t true. He would still oblige to any strange dish you asked from him.

Hideyoshi Toyotomi.

He was… worried. He would do anything for you, but on contrast to Nobunaga, he would seriously question if those cravings were healthy to you. Some of those mixtures were bound to make you sick, what if affected the baby too? The first time you requested, he was wide eyed, looking at you in shock.

“I am sorry, my love… what is it that you want to eat for lunch today…”

“I want to eat Mitsuhide’s food! I have been wanting to eat it again.” He thought only a crazy person or someone who couldn’t taste anything would ask for that, it made him even more worried compared to before. Mitsuhide would be smirking, as he had a way to tease Hideyoshi in a new way.

Masamune Date.

He is a chef himself, the best there is! His food will always taste delicious, regardless of what he made. Which is why he promised you that he would cook only the most delicious food for you in your pregnancy, he knew that you would need to eat more because of the baby. But… he didn’t know what a nightmare it would be.

It was already horrible to watch as Mitsuhide mixes the food he makes all together into one, big ball of food. But you? He wondered what made you do the same?

“Wait, why are you doing that? You should enjoy everything one at a time.” He was shocked, his only eye almost popping out.

“But it all tastes so good when you mix it?”

It was worst when you would request for specific dishes, you would come up with them yourself… and he would make it, but with a tear in his eye.

Uesugi-takeda alliance.

Kenshin Uesugi.

He doesn’t have much knowledge on the woman’s body, he was still learning it. So he had no previous knowledge about pregnancy, he only got a few tips from his vassals (and some from shingen too). He didn’t expect much would happen during your pregnancy, but he was in for a surprise.

He loved sour things, but hated sweets. However, he wouldn’t decline your request for sweets. What he didn’t expect was how you were eating it…

You were shoving both sweets and his favorite pickled plums together, it was a sight that he didn’t know would horrify him.

“MC… are you sure you must eat them like that”

“Yes! I am in love with this mixture!” He was frozen, perhaps broken from seeing his favorite dish being eaten with his most hated one. He wouldn’t stop you though.

Shingen Takeda

Let’s just say that your pregnancy would be filled with pampering, he would give you everything you asked for, practically spoil you completely. He was much more knowledgeable when it came to what would happen to you, so he was half prepared to what would happen. Only half prepared, though.

He would naturally give you any weird food you would request, but he would sometimes frown depending on how weird your craving was. He worried that you would get sick, because he knew he would get sick at some of those mixtures.

It was a similar case to kenshin, except shingen would try to persuade you to eat something else.

“My dear goddess… I don’t think it will be good to mix the sweets with those sour things. You should appreciate the sweets on their own.” He was trying his best to change your mind.

“No, I want both. You aren’t going to deny me… are you?.” In the end he really couldn’t deny you, but he had to turn away, otherwise he would faint(that was pretty dramatic, but it would be similar to that).

[loadedberetta]

I am in complete adoration of Press!Reader and the web you're weaving with it! I love how you get two sides of the story - what *actually* happened and what they report on!

I'm excited to see the rest of it because it's just stuck in my head now!

hi babe don't mind me I sobbed for about a day before I could comprehend that I got an ask

thank you for reading my stuff it brings me immense joy that other people have interest in stuff I do - anyways here's what I have to say about this

(oh and, I hope you're ready to say hello to Camilla)

"Gaz and press lady are still missin'." Soap rubbed the bridge of his nose, and rounded the table in Price's office.

"Her name's Daugherty." Ghost rumbled from the chair by the wall. He arrived back at base but an hour before, at the cusp of dawn.

"Yes, her. Daugherty." Soap gestured towards Ghost while he settled behind the Captain, leaning against his chair. He'd had her file in his hand all but once; only her first name stuck.

Price was trying to locate Kyle. One hand on a radio, another on a transmitter, he was sweeping through signatures across the area they lost contact with Gaz on radio. Ghost knew there was no way to help Price, but Soap couldn't restrain himself.

The deft hands of the Captain hadn't found anything in the past hour and a half, since they'd had access to the transmitter.

"Where are you, boy…" He muttered under his breath and tried ignoring Soap breathing down his neck as he scanned the available channels again, hands working in tandem.

"Soap…" He suddenly barked before he could register him still standing over him.

"'m here. I see it." Soap pointed at the screen, a familiar string of signals staring back at him. "That's him."

"Damn right, it is. Better answer, Kyle…" Price muttered as he zeroed in on the signal.

Ghost stood up, the hulking frame of him appearing behind the computer screen. He was ready to go hell and back for his teammate, his quiet determination let on.

Soap remained behind Price, fingers grabbing the back of the chair 'till they ran white.

"2-6, do you copy? " Price's voice was firm, as he pressed the syllables between his tight lips. "Kyle?" He repeated after a moment of silence.

-

Dust lingered in the dry, hot basement.

"Kyle?"

His grip on the radio hardened. The line was shaky.

"Sir. I'm here. I… Copy." His voice shook just a little.

"Location? Status? Give me a sitrep." Price's voice was still firm, it reminded Kyle of his dad calling him once when he forgot to report in after a night out with friends.

"We're in a basement, both in one piece. Reception's shite, sir."

"So you have Camilla?" Soap interjected, Kyle wished he could see his teammate's face just then, judging by the hurried tone he didn't often see Soap resort to.

"Yes." Gaz answered, and looked up to the woman sitting with her back to the nearby wall, her eyes fixed on him.

-

"Camilla…" Soap ripped the door of the SUV open as Ghost parked it by the entrance of the main building.

A wave of unfamiliar jealousy rippled through him as Kyle stared back at him from the backseat, Camilla sitting on the other side of the vehicle. She looked exhausted. Not broken, but surely exhausted.

Kyle brushed past him in understanding, fighting the urge to claim his position by helping her out of the car, but the look he exchanged with Soap was universal and well-known between the two of them.

He gave the other man a pat on the shoulder and walked by him to join Price standing in the doorway. Soap heard them talk in the back of his head, but his focus was on the frame of the woman scooting closer to her in the car seat.

Soap extended a hand towards the inside of the car, and she took it. Her hands were covered in a thin layer of sand and grit, and they were warm, almost hot. He chuckled as she climbed out of the car, her expression tired, but alert.

"I'm alright…" Camilla dropped her hand from Soap's.

"I--" His lower lip quivered as she broke the contact, making him freeze in place, only able to watch her walk hurriedly toward the main doors.

She disappeared inside the building. Soap wanted to rush after her, but Gaz's hand on his chest stopped him as he tried to squeeze past him in the doorway.

"She's lost her camera in the ambush. Memory and all…" He muttered to Soap, their faces parallel, only a few inches away.

Soap sucked in a breath and pushed against Kyle's palm in defeat.

Price stood back and crossed his arms over his chest. Ghost came to stand beside him, and clicked his tongue, flicking the mask over his mouth and lighting a cigarette a moment later.

a/n:(I can't say we're getting anywhere yet, but it's going to be a wild ride for sure)

[blackknight-100]

Hey! Hi! Hello! How are you doing? I just found your blog and I absolutely love it. Your laxman Kumar ficlet was so haunting, I just had to come back and read it. Would you mind writing an Abhimanyu lives au? It's alright If you don't want to or if you're busy or if you're not taking requests rn, but I'd love to see the way you imagine it. The post about feeling inadequate as a writer has resonated immensely with me and motivated me to start writing again, so thanks!!

Hey there!

Firstly, thank you for looking through my blog, and taking the time to leave a message. I am so glad you liked the fic and that you read it again!

Secondly, congratulations on finding the motivation to write again! You have no idea how happy I am that I could help even a little bit. And as a writer who (for some reason) can presently write nothing longer than one-shots, I hope you find the exact words you need, that you have no typos, and that all your ideas arrive whenever there is writing materials/devices nearby. I hope you will remain immune to writer's block, and write the story that satisfies you. Good luck!

Thirdly, for your story, I wasn't particularly certain whether you wanted a general tragedy or a comparatively happy ending, so i wrote two for you (even if the second became gratuitous K&D). The first one is in this post, and the second one here.

1. Drona watches the Kaurava army descend on Abhimanyu with a horrified misery he has not known since his fight with Drupada. The young warrior is every inch his father’s son, and every time Drona glances at him he sees Arjuna instead. Arjuna – as a young boy, chariotless and bowless, pressed from all sides by enemies thrice his age, bloody, broken but unbowed.

When Abhimanyu had charged into the chakravyuha, he had cut down soldiers so swiftly and so devastatingly that the spinning arms were all but destroyed. Now the same warrior lies on the ground, delirious and dying.

The feeling that stirs in his chest is not quite mercy, neither is it compassion, but a strange amalgam of pity and longing. He furtively looks around. Of all gathered, the kings of Gandhar and Anga are most likely to challenge him. The other Kauravas he can quell, and Ashwatthama and Kripa are his family. But the two kings are kneeling beside Duryodhana, who sits still and lifeless beside his fallen son. ‘Already a child has left us today,’ Drona thinks, although neither Lakshmana nor Abhimanyu are young enough to be a child, ‘and sundown is close. This valiant one must live another day.’

It is with this resolve he picks up Abhimanyu from the ground, and walks towards the Pandava camp. His feet grow lighter every step of the way.

2. The Pandava brothers fall at his feet when he brings to them their glorious child. Arjuna, having deposited his son in the makeshift ayuralay, tearfully clings to his hands.

“Do not leave, Aachaarya, I beg you. Duryodhana will not forgive you this,” he weeps. “I pray you, do not leave us alone.”

Arjuna is not wrong, but Drona will not leave Ashwatthama alone to shoulder his follies.

Krishna, standing alone in silent vigil at the tent flap, gives him a sorrowful look. “Why did you do that?” he asks.

“Should I not have brought back Abhimanyu?” Drona can hear the incredulity in his own voice.

Krishna shakes his head. “Arjuna will take no vow.”

“I’m sure he will vow whatever you want him to do,” Drona tells him. Arjuna and Krishna’s friendship is well known.

“You do not understand,” he says, cryptic as ever, before walking away.

Bewildered and a little frightened, Drona walks back to the Kaurava camp with leaden feet.

3. At the entrance, there is a motley group waiting for him. “Look who comes,” Shakuni sniffs.

Duryodhana, eyes red and leaning heavily on Dushshasana's shoulder, gives him a scowl so fearsome that he shudders. Karna rubs his back, murmurs something soothingly. The Crown Prince shakes his head. “Guards,” he calls, “arrest him. Take him to Hastinapur. Let His Majesty, my royal father, judge his treason.”

Ashwatthama sobs a little. “Duryodhana, please,” he says.

Duryodhana whirls around at him. “I could have him killed right now,” he says. “My son died today, and yet Abhimanyu still lives. This is all the mercy I can offer you, my friend.”

Ashwatthama bows his head. Drona sinks to his knees and weeps.

4. The fourteenth day dawns bright and clear, and Arjuna, angry with the assault on his son, prevails upon Krishna to charge into the Kaurava ranks.

The first person he meets is Vrishasena, chasing after his brother, and cuts him apart like a reed by the Yamuna – right in front of his father. Next he finds Karna, and the memory of Draupadi’s sorrow burns in his mind.

“To him Madhav, to him!” he insists, but Krishna has already turned the chariot away.

Karna taunts him as he chases them, but his charioteer is no match for Krishna, so in the end, he challenges him to a duel.

They fight long and hard, and nearly exhaust every weapon that laws of battle permit them to use. The other soldiers gather around to watch them fight. Finally, from the depths of his shattered chariot, Karna retrieves a long shaft with a glittering tip. Krishna immediately swings his vehicle away.

“What are you doing?” he asks Madhav, harsher than he had intended. Madhav doesn’t answer.

But he doesn’t need to. Karna has lifted the shaft to his bow. “Vajra of the Devaraj, smite the youngest of Pritha's sons,” he commands, “and do not let him rise again.”

The shaft catches him on his neck, for Krishna still hasn’t turned the chariot. Arjuna falls, and Madhav lets out a haunting wail he will remember for the rest of his life.

Through excruciating pain and mind-numbing panic, he hears Karna walk up and say, “Tell your aunt, Dwarkadheesh, he will live to see another day.”

(Nakula is expressionless when he speaks. “The wound will not heal, but he will live. Though I do not think, he will rise again.”

His brothers, wives, mother and friend all look relieved.

“Small mercies,” Madhav murmurs, but Arjuna thinks he would rather have death than be crippled evermore. )

5. “You did not kill Arjuna,” Duryodhana observes, even as they desperately try to kill Bheema's monstrous son. Karna shakes his head. “No, he acknowledges, “I didn’t.” “He killed Vrishasena.” “I know. I was right there.” Duryodhana bangs his mace on one of Ghatotkacha's fingers. The giant withdraws them with a roar. “So, why?” he demands. Karna's knuckles are white where he clutches his bow. “What greater shame than to have such talent and yet be crippled?” Duryodhana stops swinging and turns to him, unimpressed. “Do not lie to me Karna. Not you too.” “I’m not lying,” he insists, and turns to Ashwatthama. “Thama! What are you doing?” Ashwatthama is tying the soldier’s spears into one long shaft. “The ballista,” he tells them. “Get the bolt throwers.” In the end, it takes eighty three makeshift shafts, and twenty one bolts, but finally, Bheema's gargantuan son falls in a cloud of dust and smoke, and the Kaurava army cheers. Ashwatthama comes up to Duryodhana, kneels. “Please, Your Highness,” he mumbles, “my father…” Duryodhana lifts him up and hugs him close. “He will be alright, my friend.”

+1 Bheema screams well into the night, and it is music to Duryodhana’s ears. When morn comes, the grief-stricken father descends into the battlefield like Rudra reborn, and ravages more than a sixth of the Kauravas army. But rage is man’s one true enemy, and on the fifteenth day, Bheema falls to Duryodhana’s mace. His promises to his lady wife remain unfulfilled. The remaining Pandavas appeal for truce. Duryodhana offers them a palace deep in the forest – guarded by man and nature alike. Shalya whisks away Nakula and Sahadeva to Madra. Duryodhana lets them go. It is in his woodland prison that Yudhisthir settles with the women and children of his household and thus, the last of Pandu's line lies buried under broken oaths and promises.

[valleydean]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRjufjaR/?k=1

Hello! I just wanted to pass by and say that this was a 100% me when I finished A Ghost Story. It is the best destiel fic I've ever read and I am a complete utter disaster for it. This fic just clutched my heart into its claws and never gave it back. I have this immense ache in my chest because I'm mourning having finished it. I wish I could erase my memory so I can experience reading this story for the 1st time again. I'm so damn happy I found this fic because the amount of happiness that it brought me can't compare to anything else!

Also, oh Gosh, I know Dean Winchester and Dean Wesson are the same person but idk why I couldn't help but fall utterly and completely in love with Dean Wesson! He's so fucking sweet he gives me toochache! He legit built a whole ass garden for Castiel!!!! If a guy doesn't put as much effort as Dean put then what's the point! The way he loved Castiel just made me swoon so hard! I felt like my feet would never land on the ground bc I swear I flew off to another dimension! It made me so happy whenever he would make Castiel smile!

Also I'm still not over (spoiler alert!) That he fucking made it!!!! He fucking made it in timeeeeeeeee!!! And that fucking kills meeeeeeee! He went to get his love back and then... and then... FUUUUCK I can't!!! Both outcomes killed me either way. Dean making it and then that happening vs Cas sacrificing himself and Dean having to witness that! 😭😭😭😭😭 like my heart can't take this suffering!

Anyways, Dean Wesson, my beloved, has my heart in every sense of the word ❤️

Dean and Cas were literally so much fun to read throughout the whole story. I was invested in every aspect! The highs, the lows, the angst, the fluff, just EVERYTHING! Their love story was truly magical!

Thank you so much for gifting us such an extraordinary and captivating story! I swear it became one of my all time favorites!

I just started The Shawnee Trail and I already love it too! ^.^

P.S I love when Dean made a comment about Cas' aim being a little to the left and Cas getting all >:( about it hahaha it was so cute!

omg this is so NICE!!!!!!! i'm grinning like a fool rn hahaha. so so glad you liked it and that it made such an impression on you. it was a special fic to write, and honestly comments like this make it all worth it. thank you so much for taking the time to read it and let me know. i really appreciate you.

lmao i also love dean wesson. even though he was the one who was the hunter, there was still something so innocent and pure about him. he didn't have two lifetimes of trauma to deal with. and i do think that, even though dean didn't remember the way he died, he still subconsciously did and it made him very closed off and very protective of his heart in a way that dean wesson tried to be but never really was. for me, it's kinda like - the difference between who a person is when they're young and in their first puppy love vs. when they're older and have had their heart broken. so i'm glad that difference was able to come across in some way between the same character in different time periods. thanks for sharing your thoughts on that.

hope you enjoy shawnee trail!!! i'm flattered you're reading more of my stuff! i do love my western. it's the most fun i've ever had writing a fic.

thanks again for your support!

[river-in-the-woods]

Hi! I think that I'm being pulled towards working with my own ancestors but here's the thing: I'm diasporic so I can't speak my birth family's language and generally I've always had a strained relationship with my relatives so I never thought of associating with my family's lineage until stuff came up and I have physical baggage I can't seem to surmount. In which that's when they (the likely ancestors) decided to give a not so subtle sign to try hitting them up. Advice? I'm just worried because I have a glaring language barrier but hopefully some spiritual freakiness like my feelings and sentiments translating into the "words" I need can happen. Also you mentioned having baggage with your own family that gets in the way of ancestor connection which is something I'd love to hear out of you had more details? Thank you!

Hello there,

Let me put this worry to rest immediately: you do not need to speak any particular language to communicate with spirits. In some cases language does hold power and connection, it’s true, but not at all necessary for you to be able to speak to and receive messages from spirits. Me and my diasporic peers regularly commune with our ancestors in English and have had no problems. You may hear words being spoken in your family’s native tongue, but it is still possible to understand them intuitively or through divination.

Spirit communication is very versatile. You may get visions, hear words, or receive intuitive feelings, or sensations in your body. Likewise spirits can receive these kinds of messages from you when you direct your attention to them. I have never encountered anything to suggest that there is such a thing as a language barrier with spirits, unless perhaps, they are in a state of such immense suffering that they are beyond all reason. Hungry ghosts, for example.

I am by no means experienced but have had a number of messages I’ve received in ritual verified by my peers. And to be honest, they can be easily mistaken for your normal thoughts. They sometimes have an ‘unexpectedness’ to them in the way they appear and float up to the surface of your mind. Always make sure you verify messages through divination, because they could be your own bias.

Well, as for my ancestral baggage, there are many factors. Family trauma and abuse, hatred and hurt causing my relatives to disown each other. Political turmoil like the cultural revolution was especially rough on my family; we lost everything. There is no inheritance, no heirlooms, no stories, from my grandparents’ time. When this occurs across multiple generations, and no ancestor work has been done in recent generations to resolve these issues, it can weaken your ability to connect and communicate with them. But the connection is never truly broken, we are still bound to our family by blood, our bodies formed from theirs. We still inherit our ancestors’ karma whether we want it or not.

Sometimes our ancestors do reach out to us, even through unpleasant means, because they need us. Our ancestors who are suffering from unresolved karma may have no means to help themselves. When I got into ancestor work more seriously, I went through a period of night starts and insomnia which my peers said was my ancestors trying to get my attention. Nightly recitations of the Heart Sutra helped immensely. I do weekly prayers to Ksitigarbha to cleanse negative karma from my ancestral line.

After a while, you may begin to receive more signs on how to progress. For me I think it’s music. When I hear traditional Asian instruments, I get a pain in my heart and the urge to cry. Actually, the first time I did a group ancestor ritual with my peers, I was shaking and sobbing my eyes out. If this happens, if you feel a sense of longing, it could be a good sign that you are healing that connection.

You do have ancestors who love you, who want to reconnect, and help you, and stay by your side. I recommend, when you begin this work, focus on reconnecting with your enlightened and benevolent ancestors first. And as for the ancestors who are still abusive as spirits, you can still pray for them if you wish, but you do not have to interact with them. In Buddhist belief, their true nature is still loving and compassionate but has become poisoned. And it is in our power to cleanse some of that poison.

That’s all for now. Good luck on your journey, and you are welcome to reach out again 💚

[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week: Falling Power

Hello there! I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened. For today I rolled Archivist!Martin and The Vast (Eps. 192-198). It's a Season 5 style one...only one left after this one! As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla Allons-y! CW: suicide, moraly grey or directly black behaviour, self-depricating speech Also on AO3!

Of too much freedom and loose limbs.

 Audio recorded by The Archivist, in situ. I am so, so sorry. Not even you deserved this.

You can drink and eat all you want; your body will still register none of it. Just as breathing, even less, since when you breath at least the oxygen particles do something for you, not only disappear as they enter your organism.

Well, they used to do something, not anymore.... Actually, you can also breathe all you want! Or nothing at all! Isn’t this a freeing experience? Your whole physical form is beyond all exterior influences! Or interior, you can sometimes even hear how your organs dance, now gangly, since they have no function to cover.

For sure, maybe the world isn’t as hospitable as it once was, but…it’s not as if your tiny puny human form was going to go to many places, right? Even covering the whole planet Earth is but a crack in the entirety of the universe. Coming to think about it, since now you don’t have the whole Big Blue for you anymore…all you can visit in the corner that is feeding upon you, but without bothering much, you must admit…is almost freer, right? Imagine being able to choose a trip one day, but that doesn’t mean you cannot do another one right the following morning! Isn’t that just delightful ?!

All you can see is yours. Not to take, as it was before; it is far too vast for you to take, obviously. But to enjoy, let yourself loose…come on, don’t be anxious; there isn’t a cranny to lie down upon until everything is embraceable again.

Also, it won’t be.

Mikaele Salesa has always had everything under control. Not in a Mother-Of-Puppets-style, but in an I-know-exactly-where-everything-is-and-how-to-operate way. He had become an expert on having everything he needed at arm’s length…but those days were gone. He should have known, he should have known Sims, even if he had finally succumb to the Web, had still a very strong, unbreakable sense of justice, and he was not about to allow him to get away with decades of collateral damages.

So he had broken his camera, and he had then expected to be claimed by The End (since he has been escaping death as long as he has been alive), or The Web (for all his twisted plots), or The Beholding just because that was the World they were in now…Hell, he even thought of The Corruption, being him an independent and extremely clean man himself.

Never would have he imagined The Vast would be the one making of him a very long meal.

It made sense, though; now, there was nothing he could truly grasp, everything was far too immense for doing so and his very own body was just…also a floating mass linked to Earth for no particular good reason.

Even his limbs were a bit too free on its moves, the articulations twisting in directions no human body part is supposed to be twisted. He tried to run, but what people would have seen, having the mobility of a wooden puppet, having to drag the rest of his physical mass to…reach the door? What was beyond the door?

He didn’t want to know, because it was almost certainly more of this liminal open-sky space he currently occupied, another place to be remembered of his insignificant by giving him twisted versions…of…

…fuck, he has begun to forget how the real world worked. Enough of this; there were other ways of being a “good victim” of The Beholding.

He managed to put his whole body (limb from limb, almost finger from finger) at one of the Edges so cheerfully marked.

And he jumped to the vast uncertainty.

Forever, or, at least, as long as the current forever lasted.

 I think that, if we maintained regular calendars…Salesa has resisted that jump for almost a century. This means that, well, he has lived more than he would have ever lived if Jon hadn’t taken away the camera…and used it to preserve himself as human as possible (the breaking thing was all a play).

 To stay human… For me. Fuck, Jon…the camera has stopped working, Jon is starting to become…less himself. I am too; I have been for a while, even before Basira chose to join Daisy, walking into that End domain with…brute force.

 So, with what we had managed to discover…We are about to do it, save this world, let everybody start from where they left…where I made them leave.

 I don’t know if I will survive, or if Jon will become Jon again…maybe we both pass to another world, and get to be monster Somewhere Else.

 At this point…I…

 I don’t know.

[korereapers]

Title: And thus, the world keeps turning

Fandom...?: Greek mythology

Pairing: Hades/Persephone

Just a small thing bc I'm sad and I want fall back

AO3

Hades counts the days from the moment she leaves, and it’s agony without her, but he endures it the best way he can, burying himself in paperwork, keeping himself busy. It feels selfish, in a way, because he knows how much Persephone loves spring, even if it’s far from him. Almost bittersweet, like the flowers that bloom when she walks out of his realm, only to die not too long after.

Still, it’s time, he knows that much, it’s time for his beloved to come back to him, for Demeter’s cyclical sadness to begin. Now is her turn. Today, it’s Hades’ turn to enjoy and rejoice.

He always waits for her at the entrance of the Underworld. Yes, paperwork is a heavy task, and it’s not as if he liked it much anyway, so it can wait. For her, everything can wait.

He doesn’t miss the souls being dragged to his realm, either be by Thanatos or Hermes, who salutes Charon, the ferryman, before lost souls beg for an entrance to the Underworld. Charon has always been a greedy one, though, and he only lets in the ones that have coin. The rest of them beg for it, almost furiously, only to become part of the Styx, full of cries and moans and eternal regrets.

Hades is aware that his realm is not the most welcoming one. Death may come for every mortal, but it’s still as unfair as life is. So he watches, and watches, souls drowning or being dragged down, and he has never cared much about mortals, and with time, he has come to accept that this is, in fact, the way the world works.

He blinks slowly, because he might be Olympian by birth, but he has now become one with his realm, and sunlight doesn’t really feel that nice against his pale, way too pale skin. Nor against his tired eyes.

It’s then, only then, when he sees them approaching, both Demeter and his beloved Persephone. Demeter looks defeated, and at this point, he has learned to feel sorry for her, as much as he feels sorry for himself when his wife has to leave.

That’s the deal they made, but it never stops being painful for everyone involved.

Hades watches silently as Persephone embraces her mother, full of affection, and Demeter’s eyes are damp, but nobody mentions it. She embraces her daughter back, a big hug that could shatter the earth if she weren’t so gentle.

“I will be back to you, mother. As I always do.”

“I know, my dear. Be safe.”

Hades doesn’t have to see Persephone’s smile to feel it.

“I always am.”

It’s then when she looks back at him, her hair flowing, mesmerizing. Hades falls in love with her every time, every day, just a little more, a little deeper, until, he fears, love will consume him like it has with many of the mortals Aphrodite has dealt with.

“Hello.” is the only thing he manages to say, never good with words. Maybe his silent, sad realm fits him just fine.

And Persephone runs to him, like she will run to her mother in six months, because love is immense and never ending, and there is always enough for everyone. She embraces him, both powerful and delicate, and Hades feels himself smiling for what surely has been months.

Mustn’t it be a chore, to be with him? Serious, boring, taciturn Hades and his dead domain. Persephone kisses his lips, chaste but promising, tickling his lips, and making him embrace her back. He moves in circles, and moves, until her feet are not touching the ground anymore, and she laughs, and laughs, and Hades feels enamored with her yet again.

“Take care of her,” is what Demeter says, her voice a little broken, and Hades gulps, but stops immediately.

“I will. As always.”

That much she owes her. Both of them.

“I’ll take good care of him too, mother.”

That’s Demeter’s first smile since Hades has seen her, and, he knows from experience, it will be the last until her beloved daughter comes back.

“Welcome home.” Hades mutters shyly, guiding her to the Underworld. As if he had to, after centuries of their marriage.

A pale, almost gray hand gets held with warm, long fingers, as they advance towards Charon and the Styx.

Hades sighs, relieved, and Persephone just looks down, eternally conflicted, two homes for her, two people she loves dearly, albeit in completely different ways.

And thus, the world keeps moving.

[aamaryst]

The only thing stopping me is the thought of everyone’s faces. Yukine, Hiyori...!  I need to hurry before I become too reluctant...! It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll be able to meet again.