#so not of these are super fleshed out or stable

[bitwein]

Sometimes I blackout and the spirit of vashwood like posses me and wake up to stuff like this in my commonplace that I carry…. It just really digs up old quotes and stuff I’ve read before

[buckyalpine]

Come back to you

Bucky x pregnant!reader 

What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform. 

Warnings: FLUFFFFF, sweet charming 40′s Bucky, time travel, teensiest bit of angst. 

-

“Buck, are you sure about this” You shuffled nervously by the platform Bucky was standing on, his latest mission requiring him to travel through a time portal. It wasn’t something he hadn’t done before but time travel was still tricky and the last thing you wanted was something happening to Bucky. 

Especially now. 

“I’ll be fine doll” Bucky assured you, holding onto a device Tony had made to gather information, the time stamp on the portal set to 1943. All he had to do was locate the coordinates he was given, scan a few documents and return to the present. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Bucky pulled himself out of high risk missions but this seemed easy enough and he was the only one familiar with the location. “Promise I’ll come right back to you in just a few seconds babygirl” 

He gave you a wink, kissing your cheek before nodding to Bruce who was by the machine console, rechecking the timestamps and settings so all Bucky had to do was press a button on his suit when he was ready to come back. You held your breath, standing back while the platform lit to life, a flash of white nearly making Bucky disappear instantly. While the mission could feel like minutes to hours for him, it would be mere seconds for you. 

You fidgeted with your fingers while Steve monitored Bucky’s tracker, getting the platform ready for him to return. You nearly let out the breath you were holding, seeing a green light indicate Bucky had pressed the button to return and you’d have him back in your arms again. 

“Alright, the portal is stable, he’ll be back in 5...4...3...2...1″

The bright light flashed again, the super soldier standing right where he’d left, not a hair out of place. Bucky blinked, looking down at his suit, frozen on the spot before looking to his best friend, the only person he seemed to recognize in the room. 

“St-Steve?” 

“Buck” Steve’s brows furrowed noting the way Bucky’s eyes darted around the room with a confused look on his face.

“Where-where am I?” Bucky whipped his head around, before looking to his best friend again for answers. “What am I wearing?” He looked down at his hands, eyes growing wide when he saw his metal one, flexing his vibranium digits. “My arm?” 

He looked like a lost puppy, unable to move from where he was standing, nearly pinching himself because he had to be dreaming. “What’s going on punk, where am I, why-why does everything look so different, where are we?” 

You felt sick to your stomach as your husband looked at you for not more than a second having no idea who you were, having no idea where he was himself. He tugged at the sleek material of the tac suit with an expression of fascination and horror, his flesh hand tracing over the metal one. 

“Steve, whats going on?” You looked over to him, blinking back tears, already feeling panic rise in your chest, desperately hoping the time travel made Bucky a little delirious, something a bit of rest would fix. Steve swallowed thickly, slowly approaching Bucky, something telling him the confusion was more complex than just being shaken from time travel. 

“What year is it, Buck”

Bucky looked at Steve with furrowed brows but answered anyway. 

“1943″ 

“Your full title?” 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th” He replied with confidence, not a hint of humor in his voice. He stood with the confidence of a soldier, shoulders rolled back, with a strong stance. Steve nodded while Bruce immediately started to fiddle with the portal, understanding the mission had altered something in Bucky. The Bucky that stood before everyone was physically from the present but his mind was from the 40′s. 

“Just give me a sec Buck, I’ll be with you in a minute” Steve keep his voice light, not wanting to worry his bestfriend further. He took away the device Bucky was holding, leading him to stand away from the platform while he gently led you away to speak with Bruce. “Banner, what the hell” 

“His departure was fine but there must have been a glitch with the portal coming back. When Barnes travelled back, something warped with his memories; right now he’s Bucky from 1943. He doesn’t have any recollection of anything after that”  Bruce continued to press at buttons while carefully watching Bucky walk around the lab, his face softening in sympathy.

Bucky eyes held child like wonder, staring at the high ceilings and vast technology he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He found himself wandering around the room, waiting for his bestfriend to tell him what was going on, distracting himself with science in the mean time. 

He always loved science. 

Tony and Sam joined the lab after a few frantic text messages; Tony joining Bruce in trying to figure out what went wrong whereas Sam had come to check on you and make sure you were okay. Sam sat down with you, gently squeezing your hand in his, not wanting stress to end up hurting you or the pregnancy.

“He doesn’t remember me” You blinked back tears, your hand coming up to rest on your swollen belly, watching Bucky stare at the other creations Tony had lying around on the tables, in his own little world of fascination and utter confusion.

“Look, we’re gonna get him back. Remember when Scott returned as a baby and then an old man 10 seconds later and he wasn’t sure which version of himself shit his pants?” He gave you a comforting smile, taking you put of the lab to rest while Steve made his way over to Bucky. “C’mon mama, terminator would wage war on all of us if we didn’t take care of you. He’s gonna be okay, he’d want you to be taking care of yourself first” 

Steve kept Bucky occupied for the time being, not wanting to confuse him with too much, only explaining a few things to him such as the metal arm. Bucky understood bits and pieces, such as something about time travel, war and something else about a mad scientist. Any details about you were left out, not wanting to complicate things further. 

Over the next few days, Bucky was learning to adjust to the modern world all over again, staying in Steve’s room while Tony and Bruce worked on resetting the portal. You kept your distance from him, going about your routine as best as you could along with a sadness pulling at your heart when you didn’t have him by your side. 

The bed was too cold. 

It wasn’t comfortable when he wasn’t there to be your human body pillow. 

He wasn’t there to cuddle up with when you were feeling needy.

He wasn’t immediately by your side with chamomile tea that soothed any nausea you felt, always knowing when you needed some without you saying anything. 

He wasn’t there with his warm and cool hands to sooth the kicks that nudged in your belly; your Bucky would always have his hands on you, obsessed with his pretty angel all full of him. 

Now you had to wait. 

But even Bucky from 1943 couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

“Whose that?” Bucky pointed over at you, having noticed that you spent a lot of time alone, no partner by your side though you were clearly very pregnant and nearing your due date. You had come to the kitchen to make some tea, not realizing both super soldiers were grabbing a snack after a morning run, deciding to continue with what you were doing instead of leaving abruptly. Steve glanced over to where Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide noticing the concerned look on his best friends face.  

“This is y/n” Steve nodded for you to come over, letting his hand rest on your back to give you some support while Bucky gave you a boyish smile. “Y/n, this is my best friend, the very James Buchanan Barnes, the same punk I’ve told you a lot about” 

“You can just call me Bucky” 

“Nice to meet you” You gave him a soft smile, returning his charming one, feeling butterflies all over again just like the first time you had met him. Your cheeks grew warm when he gave you his hand, immediately asking if you needed help with anything else. 

“You need us to get you anything, doll? Why don’t you go rest in the living room, I can bring this to you once the waters boiled” He sent you away so you could get off your feet, watching you with heart eyes as you waddled away out of the kitchen. He then shook his head, remembering that you probably had a husband and it wasn’t right for him to look at you that way. 

Steve shook his head at Bucky’s antics as the brunette grabbed a bag of chamomile tea before pouring the water in and checking the temperature before bringing it over to you. He didn’t linger around too much, wanting to be respectful, letting you relax while he made his way back to Steve. 

However, each day his curiosity only grew. Between passing good mornings and shy smiles, he couldn’t help but wonder why no one ever mentioned anything about your partner or spouse. It had been nearly 3 weeks and you were always alone. He wasn’t one to pry and he definitely didn’t want to come off as nosy or seem like he wanted to know your business. 

Still.

He didn’t like that he hadn’t seen anyone by your side the whole time.

12:45 AM

Bucky’s ears perked up when he heard soft footsteps padding towards the kitchen, setting down the book he was reading to find your tired face, your hand resting on your baby bump. He felt something tug at his heart seeing sleep still etched on your face, hair still tousled, your other hand supporting your back. He sprung to his feet, leading you to sit down before you could say anything, crouching down while keeping your hand in his. 

“What do you need doll, should I get some water started?” He gave you a gentle squeeze when you nodded, hearing the faint rumble of your tummy, “Maybe a snack too” He grinned, getting up and filling a kettle and rummaging through the fridge to cut up some fruit, adding a double chocolate cookie on the side. 

“There ya go, can’t have you goin’ back to be hungry” He gave you a wink, sitting down beside you with his own mug. 

“Thank you, Bucky” You couldn’t help but giggle at the cookie he proudly added to your plate. 

“You don’t have to thank me sweets, I’m happy to help” Bucky insisted, pleased to see you munch on the fruit with a satisfied hum, chuckling when your eyes rolled back as you sunk your teeth into the cookie. “Can’t have you doin’ all this by yourself” 

“Well, I’m not by myself when you’re around” You gave him a light hearted smile, wishing you could slink into his arms and feel him wrap you up, blinking back tears that stung your eyes. 

“You’re doin’ this alone?” Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, shock evident in his voice, a sliver of anger slipping through. How could anyone abandon someone as sweet as you, especially when you were carrying their child. 

“I-um-sort of-” You nodded, hoping to keep your emotions at bay, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

No. 

You’re right here.

But you’re so far away

Your mind was screaming but there was nothing else you could say, taking a sip of your tea to keep yourself from sniffling. 

“I’m sorry sweets, bet you’re real strong though. Always smilin’ like sunshine”  Bucky sat closer to you, resting his hand on top of yours, holding it softly. He gave you one of his classic dashing smiles, washing up your cup and plate before walking you back up stairs and wishing you a good night. You snuggled up in your sheets with a content sigh; whether it was Bucky from the 40′s or Bucky from today, both were still sweet and protective as ever.

-

You made your way downstairs with your shopping list in hand, growing fed up with the lack of potato chips in the cupboards and still needing to get baby supplied with your due date growing even closer. You slipped on a comfy sun dress, stepping into the elevator and passing through the common room. You paused at the sight of your Bucky, his nose tucked in a book again, the sunlight from the ceiling high windows making his skin glow. You adored the slight scrunch of his nose as his eyes flicked over the words, heavily engrossed in another sci-fi novel, his favorite thing to read after raiding Steve’s library. 

“Good morning’ doll” He peeked up from his book, giving you a bright smile, noting you were dressed to go out, “goin’ somewhere?” 

“Just going to get some fresh air, stop by the store for some things I need” 

“Is anyone going with you?” Bucky set down his book, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was going to accompany you, frowning when he saw there was no one else. 

“I’ll be fine Bucky, really-”

“Not a chance, my ma would have my head if I just let you go out alone, especially right now” Bucky shook his head, shoving a bookmark between the pages and setting it on the coffee table. “Pretty dame like you shouldn’t be going out alone. Steve can grab what you need from the store, just give him the list. I’ll take you out for a walk" 

Bucky kept his hand gently at the small of your back, the other holding your hand as you both walked though the park, keeping his eyes trained everywhere, making sure you were safe.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” He asked, always pausing incase you felt tired, concerned etched on his face whenever you huffed, firming his grip around you. “Let’s get you home sweets” 

As you both walked back home, you missed your Bucky even more, a part of you enjoying spending time with the sweet care free man from the 40′s, another part of you desperately missing your husband. Once you got back, Tony was waiting for you, taking you over to the lab where Bruce was still tinkering away, both men looking exhausted from endless nights of no sleep. 

“Good news, we’re almost ready, should be good to go in just a few days” Tony smiled, noting your face fall ever so slightly, your heart jumping because you’d finally get Bucky back but you’d miss the young soldier version of him. 

“You’re gonna miss pre-grumpy terminator, huh” Tony chuckled, while you playfully rolled your eyes, waddling back to the kitchen, following the scent of something sweet that caught your attention. You smiled at the sight of Bucky moving gracefully around the kitchen, every so often asking FRIDAY questions, his eyes lighting up with joy each time the AI answered. You didn’t want to disturb him, quietly entering until you felt a strong kick to your side. 

“Oof-” 

Bucky looked up to see your face scrunch, dropping the spoon he was holding and making his way to you.  

“Doll? What’s wrong, are you okay?” 

“They’re kicking” You smiled, resting your hands over your tummy, trying to soothe the movement but to no avail. They only responded to their daddy. 

“They?” Bucky’s eyes grew wide, taking in what you  just said while you nodded, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your belly where the babies fluttered, their little feet pressing against your skin. 

“Two baby boys”

“S’like you got me and Stevie in there” Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparking in awe feeling the movement in your belly, “Causin’ a ruckus for their ma. Can I get somethin’ for ya?” He gave you a boyish smile, ushering you to sit down. 

“They seem to respond to you” You hummed, feeling your little ones settle after Bucky’s hands rested on your stomach, something that seemed to soothe all three of you. “Sometimes they only rest when I walk around, tire all of us out” 

Bucky thought for a moment, his face glowing when an idea popped into his head. 

“Steve just showed me how to work this, not that it makes much sense” Bucky fidgeted with his phone for a bit, his tongue sticking out with his focus. He pulled up a playlist of 40′s music, picking something slow before setting the phone down and helping you back on your feet, “Maybe this will help” 

“What are you doing Bucky” You giggled as Bucky took your hand in his and twirled you towards him, your hands resting on his chest. He kept his hands around your baby bump, rubbing soft circles on your sensitive skin, dancing with you in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be gentle” he started to sway with you, humming along to the soft music, “Can’t have those little punks tiring you out, mama” You allowed yourself to melt into his touch, turning your body to the side so you could rest your head against his chest, hearing the same steady beat of his heart that grounded you. You nearly fell asleep with the way he held you, keeping you and your babies safe, his soft scent surrounding you, every muscle in your body relaxing. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you up to bed” He whispered when he noticed your eyelids grow heavy, a small yawn slipping past your lips the more you snuggled into his arms. He pushed away the thought of scooping you up into his arms, not wanting to over step his boundaries, holding you close to his side instead as you made your way up the elevator. 

“Thank you for that dance, soldier” You gave him a shy smile while he stood by your door, every part of him wanting to hold you for longer. 

“You’re a real charmer, sweets” Bucky blushed, his hands still resting on your baby bump, “I’m tellin’ ya, if you were mine...” He caught himself before speaking to much, his cheeks turning peachier. 

It was evident things were different in the future.

If he had met you just like this in the 40′s, he would have stepped up and been by your side. Of course, he’d ask you to marry him, have Steve as his best man. He would have wanted to be your man, a good husband to you and a father to your babies if you’d let him. He indulged in his fantasy for a little longer, thinking about the two little boys he’d be happy to call his and perhaps having a baby girl later on. 

“What if I was yours” you gazed up at him while he gave you a signature flirty smirk, bright blues twinkling. 

“You’d be my darlin’, my sugar” Bucky pressed an innocent kiss to your cheek, blushing more himself when you giggled, returning his kiss to the dimple on his chin. 

“Maybe one day, solider” 

“I’d like that, babydoll”

-

You held your breath watching Bucky step on the platform again, repeating back all the instructions Steve had given him, still a little confused about time travel but trusting anything his best friend said. 

“Push this button when you get to these coordinates and you’ll come right back” Steve assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“You sure I won’t die, punk?” Bucky snorted, checking over his tac suit, glancing over to you, wishing he could take you back with him. 

Maybe one day. 

“Take care of yourself doll” Bucky quickly stepped off the platform to give you another kiss before getting back on with a grin at the wolf whistle from Sam and Tony, waving to those in the room before giving Bruce nod. He disappeared in a flash, your anxiety kicking up again waiting for your Bucky to come back, the green signal lighting up once again, just like last time....

“Alright, 5..4..3..2..1″ Everyone stood in silence as Bucky reappeared once again, blinking just as he had done before, but this time, his eyes landing to you first. 

“Bucky?” You whispered, still holding your breath as he stepped towards you, a relieved smile on his face, instantly enveloping you into a hug, inhaling your soft scent, the one that reminded him of home, his heart, his safe space. 

“Hey darlin’” He kissed the top of your head, before cupping your face to look at him, peppering soft kisses across your cheek before dropping his hands and slipping them up your shirt to feel your belly, smiling at the feeling of soft flutters and kicks. 

“You’re back” You pulled him down for a kiss, letting out a relieved sigh at the feeling of his warm pillowy lips finally on yours again, ignoring the hollering that went on in the background, your hands clutching onto him. 

“Told you I’d be back” He smiled against your lips, scooping you into his arms, not wasting another second, taking you straight to your shared bedroom. He set you down gently on your feet before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

“My darlin’ my sugar” He playfully whispered, holding you close to him. You gasped, pulling away to see his lips tick up into a smirk, giving you a wink, 

“You-you remember?” 

He nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“You said maybe one day” He dropped to his knees, resting his head on your swollen belly, his heart swelling at the feeling of his babies, finally home again with the one person who lightened up his life “Glad to see you’re mine, babydoll” 

Tags: @glxwingrxse​ @hungryyeyess​ @sebsgirl71479​ @beabutterfly987​ @teambarnes72​ @witchywhore​ @jamesbuckybarneswify​ @slutforsexyseabass​ @chrisdrysdale​ @littlemarvelmenfan​ @buggy14​ @whimsyplaty92​ @sergntbarnes​ @inkedaztec​ @pono-pura-vida​ @moonlightreader649​ @brooklynscherry-z​ @elle14-blog1​ @justsebstan​ @littlelightnings​ @happyt0exist​ @emmabarnes​ @bethyruth​ @matchat3a​ @cjand10​ @getwellsoontana​ @cherryschaos​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @ashenc-blog​ @buckybarnessimpp​ @potatothots​ @goldylions​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @morganemorganite-blog​ @kingfleury​ @peaches1958​ @spiderman-stilinski​ @peaceinourtime82​ @gublur​ @wintersmelodie​ @geeky-politics-46​ @lolawassad​ @almosttoopizza​ @a-poor-gryffindork​ @alternativeprincess​ @buckycallsmeaslut​ @kamaria-sweet-writes​ @charmedbysarge​ @xnorthstar3x​ @kryoee7​ @alina02​ @gh0stgurl​ @polishprincess999​ @jessybarnes​ @alltheficsiwant​ @chemtrails-club​ @eralen​ @perdidosbucky-yyo​ @clqrosmgc​   @buckybarnessweetheart​   @pandaxnienke​   @manyfandomsfanvergent​  

[beatcroc]

idle thoughts on the smaller clones

and drawing them incorrectly bc i dont care ❤

the way the clones spawn infinitely offscreen in the war level is the same thing as fp's duplication thing in his fight, it's just that his version is WAY toned down. in both cases the clone duplicates are like fully separate, technically autonomous Guys that the original has no control over, so for the war clones that means they're just kind of blindly making infinite guys. In fake pep's case, either his duplication ability got severely nerfed after pizzahead saw what a huge problem that was gonna be, or fp is just smart enough to make the duplicates super weak so they fall apart after a few seconds.

the ones seen ingame are only the 'latest and greatest', as it were. all the clones before fp had just been about trying to make a Stable Alive Thing, so there wasn't much focus on sentience, or durability, or really anything else. most of the ones before those ingame couldn't survive, and the ones that did got eaten by the newer, more evolutionarily "fit" generations. CONTEXT: awhile back @unexpectedbrickattack had been talking about earlier gens of clones being closer to real biological life, being Actually grown from cells or embryos or what have you, but pizzahead gave up on that pretty fast because things going very bad and wrong with actual flesh and blood and that whole complex mess is, um, a hell of a lot worse than just having to clean up some nonspecific Gunk. anyway. it wasn't the intent for them to wind up 90% weird gunk beings, but as creating artificial life goes the less things that can go wrong the better, so gradually more and more of their organs and systems were simplified and/or replaced entirely by all-purpose self-sustaining gunk.

they're largely mindless and very much feral but i wouldn't really call them evil; the biggest problem is really just that they don't have a fear of people or, like, anything else. they're no more destructive than any wild animal, it's just that they have a much higher rate of, uh, Incidents because there's nothing stopping them from wandering everywhere they shouldn't be or just going up to someone and going ham. the Can be cute sometimes but they're also unpredictable and don't have much consistent logic to be trained otherwise so trying to interact with one will most likely just get you bitten and/or mauled

i do however believe so hard in all the clones being violently territorial with eachother, and fake pep is actually a lot more hostile to them now. not that he hasn't always hated them, but back in the labs there was just a ton of them everywhere so it was a 'pick your battles' thing and he'd only go after them if they were in the way or bothering him directly. now that they're not an omnipresent nuisance AND he's got a place to definitively call his own? it's kill on sight. It's like 80% territorial instinct but there's a note of 'do NOT fuck this up for me' in there as well. they Are still out there somewhere postgame, but it's not really relevant for my purposes bc they're way the fuck off wherever that warzone is, and the chances of any finding their way to peppino's pizzeria or anywhere else the cast may interact with them is Highly Unlikely.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Heaven

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6968

Part One; Part Two

Summary: The final hunt begins and Athos and the reader rush to find the others before Aramis’s recklessness leads him into Visage’s clutches. 

Notes: Finally! This trilogy has taken me a while to write, so I hope you guys have enjoyed it! Since this part switches around the reader and Aramis a lot, it jumps quite a bit, so I hope it isn’t too confusing. (Also, I can't believe how long this is compared to the others. oops)

Warnings: Violence, assault, death (some intense stuff, so just be aware. I tried to keep the opening scene impactful without being super descriptive)

More Musketeers imagines: HERE

-

“I demand to know where you are taking me.” You kept your tone as calm as possible as the carriage jerked and jostled over the unknown road. 

The man who’d dragged you from your rooms made no reply, keeping his indifferent gaze toward the window. Trees loomed like soldiers in the twilight, the sun sinking ever further into the horizon. Abandoning you. 

You wanted to argue more, but your voice had gone hoarse from shouting. Surely your fists had bruised form banging on the window. But he couldn’t hear you. Whatever your treacherous stable boy had told him had forced him away. Still, you held onto the hope that Aramis would come for you. A rat like Visage may have power, but even his brigade of idiotic followers lacked the skill to take on the musketeers. 

“I know that Visage put you up to this,” you scoffed, eyeing your riding companion. “But whatever ‘claims’ he believes he has are nothing more than delusions. He has spouted nothing but lies ever since the death of his mother.” 

While you weren’t sure where you had been taken, you knew it was further than you liked. You’d been traveling since early afternoon and you hadn’t the faintest idea where you were or why you were here. What could Visage possibly be planning? 

You were trying to discern which direction you’d traveled when the carriage abruptly halted. The man with you grabbed onto your hands and tied them with a rope. He knotted it so tightly you were sure it cut into your flesh.

“Enough of this,” you exclaimed as you were shoved out of the carriage. “What crimes have I committed? What right do you have to imprison me and cart me off like a common thief? I am a personal friend of the queen and I order you to-”

‘Oh enough with your screaming.” The cold voice sent shivers down your spine. “No one can hear you out here.”

You turned slowly, lifting your chin and blinking back any fear in your eyes. The man you’d suspected scowled back at you. 

You smirked. “Ah yes, I thought I smelled vermin.” 

Any smugness in your expression was instantly slapped away, the sting of Visage's hand radiation from your cheek. Fuming, you opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly took hold of your chin. 

“You have humiliated me for the last time,” he snarled. Visage shoved you back and you hit the forest floor hard, knocking the breath out of your lungs so that when he kicked you, you couldn’t even scream. 

Three of his men stood by and watched as he switched between his foot and his riding crop. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of watching you cry, but tears flowed with your permission. You were too delirious from the pain to care after a while.

When you thought you’d surely faint, Visage took you by the hair and lifted you off the ground. 

You spat in his face with the strength you still had. 

He threw you back down and took the riding crop to your hands, bound in front of you still with a rope that had turned red from bleeding wrists. Every hit sent an unimaginable pain up your arms, shaking your whole body and shattering your heart. Your hands that were once kissed and praised for their delicate beauty by Aramis. The hands of an artist. By the time he dragged you to your feet, you couldn’t feel anything but the throbbing in your fingers and bloodied knuckles. 

Visage nodded to his men and they pulled you up to a large cedar, pinning you back and tying you around the middle. Your cloak felt suffocating, pressing the sketchbook in your bodice into your chest. 

“It is lucky your mother is not alive to see you now,” you said through the blood on your lips. 

“Do not speak of her,” Visage snapped. “You preyed upon my mother’s generosity, all the while spitting on her family name.”

“You fail to remember that I have never been betrothed to you. Your mother knew this. She knew my heart belonged elsewhere.” The thought of him made your voice crack. “She knew my heart belonged to Aramis.” 

The men finished tying the rope. 

“It will always belong to Aramis.” 

Visage slapped you again. 

You took a deep breath and stared him in the eye. “I love Aramis.” 

Again.

“I love Aramis!” 

His hand gripped your throat, pushing your head back against the bark. 

“This I swear to you, you ungrateful bitch,” he sneered, leaning so his lips were by your ear. “I will tear him limb from limb for the embarrassment the two of your sordid relationship has caused me. And I will revel in every second.” 

He stood back, taking his pistol from his belt. 

You knew then that you didn’t want to die. 

“Aramis!” You cried, hoping that the heavens would hear you. 

“It seems like such a waste.” Visage loaded his weapon. “There was a time when all I could think about was your touch. The way the dresses my mother bought you fit your body.” 

“You will never get away with this,” you exclaimed. “I am friends with the queen and the best fighters of Captain Treville’s regiment. They will see justice is done.” 

“That’s where you're wrong, Y/N.” He took aim. “Nobody will miss a musketeer’s whore.” 

You tried to yell one last time, but with the final shot, Aramis’s name died on your lips. 

-

With no rain and with this part of the forest being relatively remote from Pinon, there was nothing to wash away the blood. The dark, dried stains coated the leaves on the ground and left horrible marks on the tree where you’d been bound. Looking at it felt as though you were being brutalized all over again. But when you thought of Visage’s sneer or the sting of his hand, you only imagined them directed toward your beloved Aramis. 

Any harm that should come to him would be put squarely on your shoulders. 

“This is where it happened,” you said quietly. 

Athos was stopping to give the horses water. He looked over at you with a grim expression. 

“It’s a miracle they found you.”

You shook your head. “It’ll be a miracle if we stop him. If Aramis and the others go after him tonight…”

“You underestimate us,” Athos tried to give you a smile to reassure you, but he was never known for his ability to comfort. “We are musketeers after all. They won’t charge in without a plan. Besides, they don’t know where Visage and his men are.”

“I do.” You turned your back to the tree of your torture, holding your head high with new determination. “Madam de Visage owned an orchard just east of the city. I’d bet my life that’s where Visage is hiding while he plots Aramis’s death.” 

Though you tried, you still couldn’t hide the growing fear in your voice. 

Athos walked across the clearing and put a hand on your shoulder. “Luckily we will be there to take him off guard and put an end to his schemes.” 

“I hope you’re right,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Oh, Athos. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t defied him, humiliated him, then-”

“Then you would have married a foul man you hate and abandoned the one you love, living out whatever days Visage allowed you to live in utter loneliness and misery,” he reasoned. “The only one to blame here is Visage. And we will see to it that justice is dealt and that you may reunite with Aramis.” 

His blue eyes bore into yours until you couldn’t take it. You lowered your gaze to the forest floor. 

Athos sighed. He knew that you were still warring with yourself over your return and he was fairly certain as to why. You didn’t see yourself as the same woman Aramis loved and you were afraid, when he saw you now, changed and broken, that he wouldn’t not love you. But after the past week of his friend’s utter despair, Athos knew that there was nothing that could take Aramis’s heart from you. Not even death. 

-

He clutched the bloodstained locket like a rosary. Aramis stood a ways from the other two while they gave their horses time to rest and their lungs a moment to breathe. The trio had been searching all afternoon for Visage’s camp and, though the place the stableboy had indicated showed signs of a brief settlement, Visage and his men were long gone now. 

“Tell me where to go,” Aramis muttered, holding the necklace to his lips as if in prayer. “Help me find him, my love.” 

D’Artagnan nudged Porthos in the arm. “He’s doing it again,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“I’m worried about him.”

“We all are.” 

“I know, but look at him.” The youngest of the group motioned to their friend’s tense shoulders, trembling frame, and perpetual fighting stance. “Even if we find Visage, will it matter?”

“Y/N deserves justice,” Porthos growled. 

“And I want to get it as much as any of us,” D’Artagnan sighed, “but what is the pursuit of it going to do to him? What will be left?”

Aramis stiffened, having pretended not to hear their conversation. He turned around. 

“Let’s go. We still have a few hours of daylight. If we don’t find anything, we’ll return to the boy and force him to tell us the truth,” he said, mounting his horse. 

“He told us all he knows,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “Scaring him more won’t do us any good.”

Aramis took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re right. It would just be a waste of time. We’ll just have to search through the night.” 

D’Artagnan’s worried expression deepened, casting a glance to Porthos, who took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Let’s find this bastard,” he muttered, though the concern he shared with D’Artagnan was becoming clearer in his voice. 

Aramis urged his tired horse on with the two others trailing behind him. 

They traveled for several more hours until their horses simply refused to go any further, much to Aramis’s annoyance, who was usually very gentle with the animals. Porthos plucked a couple of apples from one of the trees and tossed one at his friend. Aramis stared at the ripe red fruit. 

“Wait,” he gasped. “How far east have we traveled?” 

D’Artagnan shrugged. “Ten, eleven miles. Why?” 

Aramis thought of a map you had once shown him of the Visage’s property. The orchard. 

“He’s here,” Aramis said. “He must be.” 

His companions exchanged the same worried look from before.

“How can you be sure?” Porthos asked. 

“This is his mother’s land. The land he inherited. He’s a coward, he would have gone somewhere familiar. He must be here.” He drew his sword. 

“We should think about this,” D’Artagnan interjected. “He practically has a small army working for him. We can’t just barge into their camp.” 

“I know that,” Aramis snapped. “I had a plan before you three insisted on coming with me.” He paused, remembering the absence of their fourth friend. The others seemed to notice as well.

“Right,” Porthos mused, “where is Athos?” 

-

You tried to urge your horse forward, the forest growing darker and darker by the minute. 

“We should stop,” Athos said, slowing his horse from its trot. “We won’t arrive back to Paris before morning anyway, we might as well get a few hours of rest.” 

“At best, Visage and Aramis are still hunting each other in circles,” you said. “At worst…” You shook your head and pulled on the reins. “We cannot stand to lose any more time.” 

“I told you. Aramis will have a plan. Even if he didn’t, D’Artagnan and Porthos can reason with him to make one. He is not alone.” His eyes softened. “And neither are you.” 

“Honestly, Athos,” you scoffed, reluctantly dismounting from your horse and sitting at the base of a tree. “You can stop looking at me like I’m going to break.” Your statement was not supported by the trembling of your hands or the way you avoided his gaze, but your tone was laced with determination. “I have to find Visage.”

Athos sat beside you with a light chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“He’s been saying the same thing.” He plucked a blade of grass and held it to the light. “Both of you, so willing to throw yourself into harm's way to save each other, even if he believes he’s doing it for your memory alone.” Athos dropped the grass, watching it flit back down to the ground. “Love.” 

“You say it as if you know it yourself.”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.” 

You laid your head on his shoulder. Staring at your hands, you removed your leather gloves, wincing as the fabric grazed your scabbing wounds and bruises. No matter how hard you tried, you could not make them still, for they twitched painfully with every breath. 

“You were right, Athos,” you whispered. “I am afraid that when I see him again… I won’t be the woman he wants anymore.” 

Athos leaned his head back against the bark, drawing his arm around you a little tighter. And though he didn’t say anything, you took comfort in his reassuring silence. He knew there was nothing he could do to dissuade your troubled thoughts any more than you could banish his painful memories. 

So instead, you both slept while, somewhere on the other side of Paris, gunshots echoed through the trees. 

-

They found them in the dark of night. A few seemed under the heavy sleep of drink, but there were still some more alert standing guard. Visage was nowhere in sight. Any exhaustion plaguing the three men dissipated with a new wave of fury-fueled adrenaline. 

A figure appeared from the largest tent, bottle in one hand and sword in the other. Even in the pitch black, the man’s arrogant swagger and barking voice gave him away. 

Visage.

Aramis stepped forward. 

D’Artagnan grabbed his arm, raising a brow. 

“Surprise is everything,” he said, recalling his companion’s words from years past. 

Aramis took a breath and nodded, though every nerve burned. Just one shot was all he needed. All of this could be over. He remembered his friends’ concerns. Once this was over, what would become of him? 

Did it even matter anymore?” 

“Those four on the left, they’re the drunkest,” Porthos pointed out. “They’ll be easy to deal with.” 

“That still leaves twenty against three. Inebriated or not,” D’Artagnan sighed. 

“All that matters is taking down Visage,” Aramis said. 

“And,” Porthos started, “not getting killed in the process.” He shrugged, “At least until Athos gets here.” 

Aramis tensed with a new surge of frustration. “Where is he? What could possibly have kept him from something as important as this?”

The other two couldn’t answer, for they had the same questions. 

A branch cracked behind them and all three bolted upward, turning to face a wall of Visage’s men. Pistols clicked, ready to fire. 

Aramis went one way, D’Artagnan the other, and Porthos down the middle. Ten men attacked from the trees, followed by the others from the camp. The musketeers fought valiantly and impressively, killing several of their opponents before Porthos was struck with the back of a musket.

“Porthos!” D’Artagnan exclaimed. 

Five men surrounded him, forcing him to drop his weapon. One slashed a sword at his side.

Another group grabbed Aramis from behind and pulled his arms behind his back until he screamed. 

“I’ve heard of the recklessness of the musketeers, but I must say I expected better,” Visage called over the commotion as the three were overtaken. 

D’Artagnan glanced over at his captive friend grimly as the men pinned them both to the ground. “Surprise would have been everything.” 

With his arms still behind him, they shoved Aramis’ face into the dirt while his anger swelled in his chest, and tried to jerk free. 

“Don’t worry,” Visage sneered, now standing over him, “you’ll be with your whore soon enough.” 

He looked the man in the eye, brought up his heel, and kicked Aramis in the back of the head. 

The world and his hopes of revenge went black. 

Visage let out a hearty, despicable laugh, pushing Aramis’ face further into the mud with his foot. 

“Get him up,” he ordered. “We’ll take him to the tree where that sniveling girl died. Let them hang there together.” He flourished a hand and smiled. “I’m feeling poetic.”

“You bastard!” D’Artagnan growled. 

The men stood him up as they lifted Porthos and Aramis into a cart nearby. He watched his friends go with a sinking heart. He had to do something. But he couldn’t fight this many men on his own, no matter how much more skilled with a sword he may be. Then, it struck him. 

Athos. 

Athos would know what to do. 

But how could he find him? 

Visage slapped him across the cheek. The sting in his face added to the growing ache in his side, but if he could just get his arms free…

“I can see why she left you,” D’Artagnan chuckled. “What woman would choose a man who lets others do his work for him? What woman could ever want to hide behind this army of mindless brutes?” He leaned forward and spat in Visage’s face. “If you want to fight, then fight me. One on one. Like men.”

The other man’s face reddened with fury. He snapped his fingers. The men holding D’Artagnan released him. 

His stomach churned as he glanced at his unconscious companions one more time. How could he just run? How could he leave them here and flee like a coward after accusing Visage of being the very same? D’Artagnan closed his eyes and remembered Aramis’ words. 

“All that matters is taking down Visage.”

If he could get help, they could defeat Visage and still, maybe, live to honor the woman they were doing this all for. 

So he ran.

As D’Artagnan dashed into the trees, a group of men started to follow him, but Visage stopped them, his laughter booming in the youngest musketeer’s ears. 

“Let the coward go,” Visage said. “He’s not the one I want.” He looked to the cart and smirked. “Now move! All of you!” The darkness in his eyes returned. Hungry and wrathful. “We can get to the spot by morning and make it a musketeer’s grave.”

-

“Hold still,” you whispered. The needle shook in your hand and you tried to force it still. 

“I’m not the one I’m worried about,” Aramis smirked. He took your arm in one hand and put the other under your chin. “You’ll do fine. I’m right here to guide you.” He tried to keep the nerves out of his voice. Frankly, he was used to being on the other side of this situation and he didn’t care to have it the other way. 

The wound on his chest continued to slowly seep with the deep scarlet liquid overtaking your vision. 

“Just take a breath and steady your hands,” he instructed, releasing your arm but keeping a hand on your cheek. He nodded. 

You began. 

Aramis breathed through a hiss as the needle pierced his flesh and you muttered a string of apologies. 

“It’s alright. Just keep going.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you almost laughed. “I’m not the one with a slash in my chest. I should be comforting you, my love.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead. Aramis directed your lips down to his, letting his kiss reassure you. 

You continued stitching until the wound was closed and the blood more or less stopped. Aramis craned his neck to examine your work. 

“I don’t believe I could have done it better,” he grinned. 

You were glad to see the color return to his face. When he’d come to you, he was pale and shaking from adrenaline. Whatever fight he’d won, was won with a cost. 

You kissed him again, this time with all of your fear and concern and startlement. Aramis’ hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. 

It settled then, in both of your minds, that this was more than a mere flirtation. What began as little more than a series of private rendezvous in your bedroom had turned into something else entirely. Neither of you had intended it. In fact, it frightened both of you so much that you had to break apart to hide the panic from the other person. 

You moved to the other side of your bedroom and stood before your vanity, where a bowl of water turned pink as you scrubbed your lover’s blood from your fingers. 

Aramis watched you in the reflection and conquered his own cowardice. 

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely making it past his lips. 

You froze. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But, lying there in your bed, with a wound over his heart, he realized that perhaps this was exactly what was meant to be. 

He spoke louder. “I love you.” 

“Aramis…” It took only seconds, but to you, your mind seemed to reel for hours. How could you put it into words, for those simple three didn’t seem like enough? There wasn’t a way to describe what he’d become for you. He was a wild, untamable, excitement that still somehow grounded you. Both the shelter and the storm in every wonderful way. 

You crossed the room and sat beside him. And, as you watched his dark, adoring eyes, you answered his unspoken question. 

“I love you,” you said. “Of course, I love you.” 

Your hands were steady now as you took his face in your palms and pulled his lips to yours. 

Against your skin, he whispered the same, sweet phrase you’d heard time and again, and yet, no matter how often you’d heard it, it still lit a soft flame in your heart. 

“Tu es mon paradis.”

-

D’Artagnan did not know where he was running, but somehow, he knew it was the right direction. He could feel it. The image of Porthos and Aramis in that cart fueled his sprint, even after his lungs felt as though they’d burst from exhaustion and his legs wanted to give out. Even when the wound in his side continued to throb and bleed to the point of concern.

 He would find Athos. They would get help. They would bring the wrath of the entire regiment down on the scum Visage. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard the distinct thumps of hooves riding over fallen leaves. 

He ducked behind a tree and braced himself. Luckily, Visage’s men hadn’t had the opportunity to take all of his weapons, leaving him with a single pistol and a dueling dagger. D’Artagnan again saw his friends overtaken and despairing. He would at least take out a few of Visage’s mindless soldiers on his way to Athos.

D’Artagnan took a deep breath, loaded his pistol, and leaped out into the path with a furious cry. 

The horses alerted and reared back. 

D’Artagnan aimed.

“Wait!” A familiar voice shouted. 

The youngest musketeer met eyes with the clear blue eyes of his noble friend and a sigh of relief left his lips. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he grinned. 

Athos met him with a grim stare. 

“D’Artagnan?” 

The other figure dismounted from their horse, still hidden by the animal’s body. But D’Artagnan knew that voice. 

You stepped out into the moonlight and D’Artagnan looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Of course, for him, he had. 

“You’re alive?” He gasped. 

You answered by taking him in your arms, the darkness in your chest lifting enough for laughter. His arms enveloped you, still stiff with shock. He pulled away to look at your face.

“But how is this possible? How could…” He trailed off, dark eyes wide and glistening. 

You laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “I will have to explain later. I’m afraid we don’t have time.” Your eyes scanned the trees behind him. Athos did the same, realizing at the same moment as you. You looked into D’Artagnan’s eyes. “Where is Aramis?” 

His gaze fell to the ground. 

Your heart sank. 

“Where is he?” 

The youngest musketeer gulped. “He and Porthos were taken by Visage. I barely escaped.” Guilt washed over his features. “I only ran so I could find help. So I could find Athos. I didn’t want to leave them. I swear. I didn’t…” He trailed off with shame in his voice. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. “If you hadn’t escaped, you wouldn’t have found us and all three of you would be dead by now,” you reasoned, though panic was rising in your throat. “The best thing now is for you to help us find them before Visage-” You stopped, unable to even think the words. 

“Did Visage say where he was taking them?” Athos asked. 

D’Artagnan tried to gather his thoughts, mind still reeling from your survival. He closed his eyes and heard that awful man’s instructions. 

“He wants to kill him at the spot that he killed-” He opened his eyes, finding yours. “Well, where he thought he killed you.” 

“That means they’re coming this way,” you exclaimed. “We can stop them on the road.” 

“Wait.” Athos held up a hand. His eyes darted between the two of you. A thoughtful smirk played on his features. “I may have a better idea.”

Athos gathered the two of you and noted every detail, every possible variation. D’Artagnan’s face lit up with a confident smile. He patted his friend on the back. Despite Visage’s numbers, it could actually work. 

You only prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

-

Aramis awoke, tied back to back with Porthos, in a wagon surrounded by at least a dozen men on foot and at least half that on horseback. He pulled at his restraints. 

“Tried that,” Porthos huffed. “No use. They know their knots.” 

“Where’s D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked. 

His friend did not answer. 

A hopeful man may have believed their young companion had escaped. But Aramis was no longer a hopeful man. 

Aramis hung his head, the claws of defeat sinking into his chest. 

“I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” he sighed. “Visage is my fight and now D’Artagnan is-”

“We don’t know that,” Porthos interrupted. He nudged Aramis’s shoulder. “And don’t start on that again. Your fight is my fight. Always has been, always will be.” Porthos leaned back as best he could, trying to give his friend a reassuring glance. “All for one, remember?” 

Aramis couldn’t bring himself to respond. 

Porthos just nodded, having enough hope for both of them. “We’ll figure it out.” His tone darkened. “And then we’ll get Visage.” Porthos’s shoulders tensed, searching the riders around them for their villainous leader. While he let his anger keep his head clear, the same couldn’t be said for his fellow captive. 

Aramis stared out at the trees behind them. 

Did Visage tie D’Artagnan up, shoot him, and beat him the way he had to Y/N? Another life gone… because of him. 

Hours must have passed, for the sun had begun to peak over the horizon. He watched it with a heavy heart and a numb mind. Perhaps it would be his last sunrise. Worse, perhaps he wanted it to be. 

“This is it,” Visage announced. 

He sneered at the empty clearing. Animals must have picked the body apart and dragged it off. Too bad. He would have liked to see the musketeer’s face when he looked upon the broken form of the woman he’d stolen. 

The wagon halted. Men roughly grabbed the two musketeers and pulled them to the ground. It took four to subdue Porthos as they cut them apart. 

Visage grabbed Aramis by the hair and forced his face toward a tree with splintered, rust-colored bark. 

“This is where she cried for you,” he sneered, pulling his head back until Aramis winced. “Where she bled and begged. Where the heart you stole stopped beating.” He threw Aramis down hard enough that when he hit the ground, he saw spots. 

He almost thought he saw movement in the trees behind Visage, but it must have been the impact of the tree trunk against his temple. 

“And now,” Visage pulled out his pistol. “It’s where I will put an end to your miserable, dishonorable, foul life.” He looked at the man before him with hate in his eyes and aimed at Aramis’ heart. 

“No!” Porthos cried, almost breaking free. Another man had to help hold him. 

Your hand shook more than it ever had before. 

“It has to be you.” Athos had said. “D’Artagnan and I must take on the other men. You will have to kill Visage.” 

But your hands wouldn’t allow you. You could hardly keep the pistol in your grip. It was as if Visage was crushing them all over again. Then you heard Aramis speak. 

“I love Y/N. I love her with every breath I’ve ever had. I love her with every beat of my heart. And I will love her after my soul has left this body because I know she loved me all the same.” Aramis took your necklace from his pocket and brought it to his lips. He stared up at Visage, whose hand quivered with rage. Aramis accepted his fate. “And not even death can take that from us.”

Visage cocked his weapon. 

You took a breath, steadied your hands, and fired. 

A shot rang through the air and a mass pushed Aramis against the tree, slamming his already pounding head against the bark. Blurred chaos broke out around him. All he could see was light. 

The pressure on his chest lifted and another figure appeared above him, enveloped by the rising sun. 

“Please wake up, my love,” said the angel. “Please, Aramis.” 

A smile spread across his lips. “I never believed I deserved heaven.” He lifted a hand to your face. “But I must be there.” 

You took his hand in yours and, forgetting the battle around you, crashed your lips into his. All sound dropped away. Everything seemed still. All vanished except for you, Aramis, and the rays of the sun. 

“You’re alive, Aramis,” you breathed against his lips. You pulled back, running your still-gloved fingers through his hair. “I’m alive.” 

Aramis stared up at you, his fingers still grazing your cheek, not believing that it was truly your flesh that he felt. Then, the shock passed, and joyous tears took its place. 

But your reunion was short-lived, for the body beside you stirred and you felt the sharpness of a blade slide across your arm. You held up a hand to defend yourself and another latched onto it with crushing strength. You cried out, feeling your bones whine in his iron grasp. 

“Impossible!” Visage shrieked, eyes blazing. He lunged at you, but Aramis rolled on top of you, shielding you with his body and dodging Visage’s strike. 

The battle around you continued. Porthos, now freed, tried to keep his focus on his opponent, though his gaze kept slipping over to you. After a moment of surprise, a victorious smile spread across his face and he fought with new vigor, a strong battle cry roaring through the trees. Athos and D’Artagnan were keeping Visage’s men at bay while their leader stumbled to his feet. 

“You have crawled up from Hell,” he spat. Blood dripped down his chin and seeped from the wound in his chest. “I killed you. I watched you die on this very spot. Demon. That’s what you are.”

“If I am anything, it is a phantom of your own making, Visage.” You stepped towards him. Aramis tried to keep you behind him, but you gave him a reassuring nod. 

Visage couldn’t hurt you now.

“It isn’t possible.” He stumbled. He held Aramis’s confiscated sword in his hand and raised it. “You are mine. Your life belonged to me. Your death is my right.” 

He moved, hands trembling weakly.

You were faster. Your sword plunged into his heart, eliciting a final gasp from his lips. He leaned forward, sinking further onto your blade. You glared at the instigator of all of your pain, the master behind your nightmares, and knew that you had one. 

“I belong to no one.” 

You drew your weapon out of his chest swiftly and watched his body fall to the ground where he believed he had killed you. 

How’s that for poetic?

You let your sword fall to your feet, blood-spattered metal glistening amongst the leaves. Something inside you burst and the emotion behind it drowned you. Relief and fear, anger and shame, love and hatred, all combined to fuel the tears that flowed freely down your face. More than ever, looking at the body of the man who made you into a killer, you knew that you were broken. 

The rest of the battle subsided- the head of the snake was severed. Visage’s men surrendered to the musketeers and Porthos and D’Artagnan gathered them into the cart to take them back to be tried for the attempted murder of several of the king’s men, as well as a close friend of Queen Anne. Visage would pay for his crimes, even after death. 

You collected yourself and removed your gloves. The bruised and scabbed state of your hands still appalled you, a symbol of everything that had been shattered inside you. You threw your gloves onto Visage’s chest, now forever still. 

“It’s real,” Aramis said, voice soft and breaking. “You’re here.”

You crossed your arms, hiding your hands as best you could. Fear kept you from turning around. The joy of seeing him had once again been replaced by the terror that kept you from revealing yourself sooner. You lifted your eyes and met the cool blue of your traveling companion the past few days. Porthos and D’Artagnan stood beside him. 

Athos saw your fear and opened his mouth to speak only to close it again. Instead, he just nodded. It gave you enough strength to face what you were truly afraid of. 

But you didn’t even have the chance to turn all the way before you were taken up into Aramis’s arms, strong and yet shaking with emotion. 

“I had wanted him to kill me,” Aramis breathed against your hair. “I did not want to walk in a world that you had been taken from. I thought I’d lost you. I thought…” He pulled away, smiling brightly through his tears. 

“I may not be the woman you loved anymore,” you cried, broken hands gripping the leather of his coat. “I’m afraid he has damaged me beyond repair. He has taken everything from me and he almost took you.” 

In the clarity after the chaos, he could see the welts and bruises, the forming scars and cruelly made marks on your skin. Aramis gently ran his finger over the bruise on your cheek, wiping away your tears. 

“Tu seras toujours mon paradis,” he whispered. Aramis kissed the bruise, then the cut on your lip, then the gash across your brow. “Not even God can change that.” He pulled you closer. “I have been granted the miracle of holding you again, my love.” He kissed your lips, a reaffirming action that filled you both with warmth. “And I don’t intend to take it for granted."

“Aramis,” you sighed, letting yourself melt into him. 

The three others joined you. As soon as you left Aramis’s embrace, you were pulled into Porthos’s. 

“I knew it’d take more than a bullet to stop ya,” he cheered, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

Aramis put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but she’s still injured, so be careful.”

“It’s alright.” You hugged the strong musketeer back. “I missed you too, Porthos.” 

Utter happiness and relief surrounded you, lightening your spirits and lifting your heart. Aramis kept an arm around your waist, your closeness helping him convince himself this was real. 

“We should go,” Athos said. “Captain Treville will want to hear a report and I’m sure the queen will be relieved to know her favorite artist is alive and well.” 

The musketeers nodded. It was decided that another team of men would come out and dig proper graves for Visage and his fallen soldiers. D’Artagnan gathered the horses while Porthos manned the cart. 

“Alright, you lot!” He boomed. “Anyone tries anything and you’ll be joining your master in Hell!” 

Needless to say, the men obeyed. 

You remained behind doubt and worry returning. Aramis stayed with you, brows furrowed with concern. 

“What is it, darling?” He asked. 

You stared down at your hands. They were shaking again. “My hands. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint again.” Your eyes fell to Visage once more. “Another thing he took from me.”

Aramis stepped around you, blocking your view of the body and bringing your hands to his lips, kissing them gently as he had your other wounds. 

“These hands saved my life,” he said. “I’m sure they will endure, just as you have.” 

Keeping your hands in his, the two of you walked together, leading you back home. 

-

One Year Later

“Would all of you just please hold still!” You giggled, peeking up over your canvas. 

“Aren’t you nearly finished?” D’Artagnan whined. “It’s been hours.” 

“Yeah, my limbs are all seizing up,” Porthos added. 

Aramis rolled his eyes. “Great art takes time, my friends. Let her work.” He met your gaze and winked. 

The four of them stood together, noble and daring in their uniforms, but lacking the stiff detachment that many soldier’s portraits often had. They loved each other and you tried to capture that with every stroke. D’Artagnan was right. The painting had actually been done for the past ten minutes, but you enjoyed teasing them. 

All four pairs of eyes snapped to the door and they fell into a bow. 

Your brush fell to your side with a huff. “Boys, I told you not to-” 

“How is it coming?” The queen’s voice sounded from behind you. 

You whirled around and curtseyed, face reddening. “It’s just about complete, Your Majesty.” 

Anne appeared beside you, admiring your work over your shoulder. Her smile brightened with awe. 

“It’s beautiful,” she praised, laying an affectionate hand on your arm. “It’ll make a wonderful wedding present.” 

Aramis beamed from across the room. 

Porthos held up a hand. “Speaking of which.” An excited grin spread across his and D’Artagnan’s faces. The two broke away from the others and hurried to the large table in the corner. 

“I told you not to move,” you said. 

“This’ll only take a second.” Athos followed them and Aramis walked to you. 

“They wouldn’t tell me either,” your fiance smirked. He stood on his toes, trying to peek over the top to see the painting. You swatted at his nose with your brush. 

“You will see it when it’s finished.”

“It is finished,” the queen laughed. “It is perfect.” She motioned for Aramis to come around the easel. 

“Well, now you’ve ruined my fun.” You gave Anne a mock pout. 

Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and gazed at your work with loving admiration. 

The painting depicted the four musketeers grouped together like brothers. In front of them, you had painted a rendition of yourself working at the canvas, painting the same image. That, of course, had been his plan. While you had just wanted a normal portrait of him and his companions, he had insisted that you include yourself, somehow. 

“You’re facing away.” He noted.

“Well, I can’t very well paint my own face while I’m looking at all of yours, hm?” 

He nuzzled your cheek. “I suppose I’ll just have to commission an artist’s self-portrait so you can see how lovely you are, hm?” 

“We’ll see.” 

It had taken a long time for you to allow yourself to look in the mirror. The idea of painting a reflection of your face was not something you had in mind quite yet. 

The three others returned, holding a box and a scroll. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to work on it here,” Anne smiled. 

Athos held out the box while the other two unrolled the scroll. It was a blueprint. A blueprint for an artist’s studio and a home to match. 

Aramis’s jaw fell and you turned to the queen. 

“What is this?”

“Consider it a wedding present of my own to the both of you.” 

Porthos cleared his throat. 

“Our present,” Anne corrected. “It was these noble gentlemen’s idea. I merely funded it.” 

“Which was greatly appreciated, Your Majesty,” Athos said. He bowed again, the others following suit. 

“I don’t know how to ever repay you,” Aramis said. “Any of you.” He pulled you fully into his arms. His miracle. His world. “Thank you.” 

“After everything the two of you went through, it is the least I can do to contribute to your future happiness.” Anne retrieved a quill from your station and handed it to you. “It shall be a great house and a great house needs a name.”

Aramis chuckled. “I am no nobleman, Your Majesty.”

“You are all more deserving than any nobleman I’ve ever met,” she argued. “Believe me, this is more than deserved.” She leaned to you. “Besides, it’s fun.” 

You looked to your fiance and to his friends- your friends- and beamed. You took the quill in your hand, now bearing a simple and perfect ring promising you to the man you loved. Aramis smiled and kissed your cheek, standing behind you as you signed your future home’s title. 

Heaven. 

[foreverdolly]

gold heart | austin!elvis x reader

summary: whilst out as a family, elvis sees a homeless man in need and decides that everybody deserves a second chance in life. your husband, being the sweet man that he is, invites him over to eat lunch with you and your son.

pairings: dad austin!elvis x mom reader

word count: 1,776

warnings/notes: this is just super fluffy and cute, all warm and bubbly feelings, elvis is the best dad, the poem thing is actually a true story, writing this cured my depression.

masterlist | requests are currently closed.

With the sun hitting him like this, his eyes looked crystalline. His long, dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he kept his eyes downturned, watching the man across the street with a deep set frown and a hard set jaw. Elvis looked beautiful at any angle. He always had, and you were sure that he always would. Red was sitting at the table across from the three of you, along with his cousin Sonny. They were eating their own lunch while keeping their eyes on you, Elvis, and your son. Theodore- lovingly referred to by Teddy- was babbling away in Elvis’s lap, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. He was currently trying his hardest to reach for your husband’s drink, and sensing the tiny boy’s mischievous plans the man reached out blindly, pushing the cup a little further back on the table.

“Baby. . . if it upsets you that much, why don’t you go talk to him? I have some cash in my purse.” You cooed to him, picking up a strawberry from your plate and biting a small piece of it off, reaching your arm across so that you could pop it into your baby’s mouth. “I just hate seein’ people like that. The thought of him sleepin’ on the cold floor at night makes me want to cry.” Elvis had never been homeless, but he sure as hell had been poor. Even in his childhood he had given what he could to the children that were even less fortunate than he and his family were. His kindness had been one of the first things that stuck out to you about Elvis back when the two of you met in school. What little he had for lunch he would spare for the other kids, hating to see them go hungry. It was his heart that made you love him so much. His looks were just a gilded bonus. “Well why don’t I take Teddy off of your hands so that you can go talk to him.” You offered, knowing how badly he felt for the man. Sonny looked up at Elvis with wide eyes, moving to stand up and out of his chair. “We’re comin’ with you, right?” Elvis stood up, holding your son against his hip. 

It was always so striking for you to see him so domesticated like this. When he went on stage he was such a force of nature. When he was alone with you though, he was a completely different person. Gentle, sweet, and innocent. It was Theodore’s first birthday just a month ago, and instead of showering the boy in toys and clothes, he had hired a poet to write the small boy a poem. “The priceless gift” was the title. The second that the older woman had handed him the piece of paper he had cried, running upstairs so that he could grab a pen. “This is beautiful” he had written on the corner, signing and dating it for Teddy to appreciate once he got older. His tears had smudged a bit of the calligraphy, and you had watched with glassy eyes of your own as your husband apologized to the poet for ruining her beautiful scrawling. “The tears make it even more priceless, honey.” You had told him. 

Elvis loved people. He never let anyone go hungry or cold. He hated seeing anyone in need, because he had been there once himself. The poor boy from Tupelo made sure that everyone around him was safe and stable. A homeless man across the street was no different. He treated everyone he met as though they were his own flesh and blood. “No, you’re not comin’ with me. He’ll probably get scared and run off if a bunch of strange men approach him.” He rubbed his hand up and down on your son’s back in a comforting motion, his gold rings glistening in the sunlight. “But EP, what if someone tries somethin’-” “I’ll be just across the street. Stop treatin’ me like an invalid.” He shooed the two men off, nodding his head towards the door to signal that he wanted you to follow him. You grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder before walking with him across the street. Cars honked at the two of you as you crossed the road, recognizing the two of you immediately. The beautiful thing about Elvis’s life was that the people loved him just as much as he loved them. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Elvis kept his hand on your son’s back as he approached, shooting the man that dazzling smile of his. For a second the man just stared, as if he couldn’t grasp the fact that he was the one that Elvis was calling out to. Slowly he raised a hand, pointing at himself, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Elvis simply laughed, nodding his head. “Yes, you.” Slowly the man raised up to his feet, and it was then that you could see just how old and worn his clothes were. You had to school your face into a calm expression, not wanting the pity to show. You’d hate to offend anybody. The man looked like he hadn’t showered in days, and even his shoes had holes in them. Your gentle husband seemed to notice too, but he didn’t hesitate to reach his hand out for the other gentleman to shake. “My name is Elvis, and this is my wife Y/n. We were wonderin’ if you wanted to come have lunch with us. You can order anything you want.” You flashed the man a beaming smile of your own, pointing off towards the awning that your small group were still sitting under. “We’d love to treat you.” You agreed. For a second the man just stared, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he finally grasped just what was happening. Elvis and Y/n Presley wanted to have lunch with him. Wanted to talk to him. You knew how most homeless people were treated, and it hurt your heart to see how emotional he was over the fact that you and your husband were even giving him the time of day. “I haven’t eaten a meal in days. T-That would be wonderful.” Elvis’s smile faltered, and he was quick to reach out, taking the man’s arm in his hand. “Well let’s order everything off of the menu, alright? The Arcade Restaurant has the best food in town, I guarantee it. The wife and I come here all the time, isn’t that right, baby?” You followed after the two men, watching as your son pulled at the dark brunette’s shirt with tiny hands. You smiled warmly, moving to stand at the homeless man’s other side. “They have the best burgers in town.” You explained, making your way back over to your table. You reached out, taking your son out of Elvis’s arms, your husband grabbing a spare chair from Sonny and Red’s table so that he could pull it close to his. 

The man’s name was Rodney, and he was the type of person that you could talk to for hours. He had all kinds of stories, each one more amazing than the next. He had lived a full life, but had lost his house after financial hardship. After being fired from his job he had to sell his car just so that he could buy something to eat. Eventually the money ran dry, and he was stuck begging for odd-end jobs and asking for loose change. Your husband really had ordered the entire menu, even after Rodney tried to discourage him. The wait staff had to pull up another table just to fit all of it. After he had eaten his fill, the three of you talked for as long as baby Teddy could stand it. Eventually the small boy started to get fussy, pulling at your clothes and crying in an attempt to garner your attention. “Well the little one is startin’ to get tired. I think we should be headin’ home.” Elvis signed a hefty check for the meal, handing it off to the waitress with a smile, telling her to keep the change for herself. The middle aged woman looked to be damn near close to a heart attack, Elvis’s dazzling smile directed at her. Rodney stood up from the table, reaching out to shake Elvis’s hand and then reaching out for yours to do the same. “Thank you both so much. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life, Mr Presley.” Elvis shrugged his shoulders, playing down the random act of kindness. “It was nothin’. Don’t mention it.” Red and Sonny stood up for their table, getting ready to leave the restaurant, but stopped when Elvis waved them over. “Listen Rodney, you look like a strong and capable guy. One of my bodyguards just retired, and I was wonderin’ if you’d be willing to work with me. I’ll pay you well, of course. I’ve been so shook up over tryin’ to find someone to work for me, and I think you’d be perfect for the job. Red, why don’t you take Rodney to the guest house? I’m sure I have some clothes that might fit him.” 

Rodney’s jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help but smile. You’d been grinning all evening long, so much so that your cheeks were beginning to hurt. Elvis never ceased to take your breath away. The man was good, through and through. Not a single one of his bodyguards had retired, but it was obvious to you that Elvis wanted to give the man a way to make a living. Help him to get back on his feet. Your husband wouldn’t shut up about Rodney all the way home, and the earsplitting smile stayed on his face throughout the entire drive. “You did good, baby.” You reached down, giving his thigh a supportive squeeze. He squeezed the wheel a little tighter, readjusting himself in the seat nervously. “Did I? Do you really mean it? Oh golly, I just couldn’t leave him out there like that, especially after getting to know him. He’s a good man, I can tell.” So could you. You wouldn’t mind having someone like him around. When you had married Elvis you knew what you were getting yourself into. The two of you were almost never alone. You always had an entourage, but the more the merrier. There was never a dull moment at Graceland. 

And just like that, Elvis had adopted another man into the Memphis Mafia. Whatever Elvis touched turned to gold, and that included the lives of those around him.

@bookklover23 @medleyj @idkwhattthisisss @dharnwjs @slutforsomegoodlettuce @crackerbarrelslut @macey234 @nightfiress @keepdrivingrr @melodydior @luvvrrrrr @mymamalife @wwebby657 @shynovelist @ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic @butlerslut @jyvnho @alqvarde @bcofl0ve @mslizziesblog @ggxsan @screaching-cookie @fantuhsise @areuirish @hxllvely @lelifesaver @milaa24 @meladollsims @poppet05 @shrekstheloml @randomwriter888 @idc123sworld @vane28282 @mirandastuckinthe80s @girlblogger2002 @rockerchick05 @screechingstrawberrysong @simpforevery1 @girlabirla @dre6ming @obetrolncocktails @fairyjanes @jensenswinchester @lo-bells @in-my-body-bag @fxntxsix @petrparkrslut @eliseinmemphis @abloversblog @gwuide @blurredcolour @the-little-red-haired-girl @thella @anni-secret-account-75 @ab4eva @starcatchxr @hllfireandtheforce @obbsessivereader @marthablake @julietamidala @unsaidjaelinrose @dark-as-love @lucy27055 @cchl @austinsrealgf @austinbutlersgirlfriend @clearbolts @radempathypastaspy @gabrielajimenez @discodeniro @itsacherokeerose @honee-chai-tea @erendipi @c-c81 @justscrollinthrough @busy-bee-angel-misska @maximumrebel3751980amhcowbo-blog @cosmorant

[mixelation]

ok so in the reborn AU, does Tori get fuuinjustu training from Kushina and Minato or just her sensei? what's in it for Deidara to stay in Konoha with Itachi and Tori?

gonna answer these in reverse order

tbh deidara's role isn't super fleshed out in my brain, to the point where i'm debating NOT putting him in konoha? but i really like the idea of Team Disaster and they're all about the same age, and i can't think of any other native konoha-nin i want to write about in a role that big

(the alternative is an actual twelve year old has the worst year of their life.)

i think he goes with "guess i'm in konoha now???" at first as a matter of convenience. they low-key get strong-armed into it, but he is theoretically on board with being Actual Friends with tori at this point, and tori has interest in staying. i don't think deidara would actually give much of a shit about the mysterious time travel or what to do about it (except maybe go see if sasori remembers him), but itachi is in a constant state of playing 4d chess and tori is in a constant state of ASSUMING everyone around her playing 4d chess so she has to watch five different boards at once and eat chess pieces when no one is looking. in other words if he leaves them alone they MIGHT kill each other and/or start the apocalypse. if he sticks around to watch he gets to see a spectacular shit show and maybe get some hot gossip on former coworkers. it's kind of a similar mood to homemade dynamite where he's annoyed by the loss of freedom but does like some aspects of being in a village-- a stable space to do art, a paycheck, etc. UNLIKE in homemade dynamite i think this deidara gets more chances to shine as a really elite ninja and i think he really, really likes positive attention, actually

i've kind of kicked around one or two or all of them leaving konoha eventually, but i'm not sure deidara would just fuck off without a particular catalyst. he is, after all, a very reactionary person. unlike HD!kakashi, kushina knows she has an extremely talented team and she gets to bat her eyes at the hokage and get them the cool, fun missions genin wouldn't usually get. so deidara is get fulfilling work and positive attention and he doesn't, like, hate it here?

as for tori's fuinjutsu--

yes, she starts off with kushina as her main mentor. this tori is from post-plot plasticity so kushina very rapidly goes from "i will train her in fuinjutsu--" to "ah, no, this is more of a collaborative learning experience." like there's stuff kushina CAN teach her but also there's stuff where she's like "hold on, no, you made that work HOW--" tori DOES need a lot of proper mentor-mentee training in other areas of being a ninja though.

(kushina: spar one of your teammates

tori: what if

tori: no)

as she gets older i'm thinking tori gets more face time with minato though, even if it's just like a peer review thing. i have kicked around the idea of her incorporating hiraishin into whatever the fuck her fighting style is but also this seems so self-indulgent fhdjksfhjksd. but also the point of the au is to mess around with the idea of tori being a ninja and getting to be on the same level as the rest of akatsuki :(

[teecupangel]

Thinking about those time travel/animal au’s, and now I’m thinking about Desmond as an emperor dragon from flight rising, (it’s basically a zombie/Frankenstein hydra, if u don’t know what it is) also maybe each head represents a different ancestor and the older the ancestor, the more decayed the head (example: Altair would be mostly skeletal with some mummified flesh, but des himself would be mostly intact except the bad burns.)

I feel like the official art from the wiki doesn’t do the concept justice so here’s a link to a fanart by @/pencilcat instead

It should also be noted that, this kind of emperor dragon should have at least four heads with different elements.

… wanna make it more fun?

We’ll go with the usual dragon!Desmond setup and he becomes pretty much the keeper of the Apple, growing close to Altaïr and even managing to change the past enough that the tragedy of the Ibn-La'Ahads does not come to pass. When Altaïr dies, he dies surrounded by family, having said his goodbye to Desmond beforehand. Desmond flies away, taking Altaïr’s Apple with him, to grieve his death and to celebrate the life he lived. Then… he starts getting this itch in on his neck. Like, it’s so itchy that he just starts scratching it.

Then his nails dug too deep and something starts gushing from the wound he just made. It looked… like whiteish fluids mixed with blood??? Like, it’s super gross and Desmond is going “Oh fuck! Oh shit! What the fuck!” because it’s still gushing.

Then…

Something starts moving underneath Desmond’s skin, wiggling and… ewewewewewew

Until something longer and larger than his head burst out of the wound, a loud piercing scream erupting from it that makes Desmond scream his head off in horror because this FEELS LIKE SOME HORROR SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!

Just when Desmond wondered if he was going be killed from the inside by a parasite, the thing shook the remaining white fluid and Desmond realized it was a dragon head, not the same as his but definitely dragon-shaped. The dragon head turned to look at him and blinked its golden eyes that Desmond recognized immediately.

Altaïr’s voice was full of confusion as he asked, “Desmond? Why… why am I still alive?”

Unorganized Notes:

Okay, I had to read this up in the wiki so please excuse me if I make any mistakes but each dragon head has a different ‘element’ which I am assuming is connected to their ‘flight’. As such, their elements would be the following:

Altaïr: It was a toss-up between Light and Arcane to be honest because Arcane is curious dragons who like to know the unknown while Light is the most scholarly and holds the pursuit of the truth. In the end, the fact that Light Dragons have golden eyes made me choose Light Dragon for Altaïr.

Ezio: Ezio would probably be Earth as he is the most ‘stable’ of the four, creating a legend that last ages. But Nature is also a good fit to show how Ezio truly thrived as a nurturer during his time as the mentor of the Italian Brotherhood.

Ratonhnhaké:ton: I think Lightning would be a good fit for Ratonhnhaké:ton, especially when we remember how he refuses to compromise the way people wish him to. He wants to change the world and, really, everything he did had an impact that everyone had to adapt to.

Desmond: Honestly, Desmond was meant to have the light flight but, since I gave that to Altaïr, Desmond is now the Arcane dragon, because of how Arcane dragons pursue their dreams, often oblivious to the effects of their actions which works well with Desmond’s mission to give his ancestors a better fate without thinking of the butterfly effect (or not caring)

Possible dragon head candidates: Edward (Wind - carefree and free), Haytham (Ice maybe? Shadow would have been a good candidate but Haytham isn’t fickle and Plague would have worked to show how the tragedy of his past shaped him but he's not savage enough to fight those like him)

The idea is that they’re an immortal dragon that sorta becomes a legend among the Assassins and Templars.

This would also have them meet Arno and the Frye twins, acting like their guides… contradicting guides at times but guides nonetheless.

They are also the guardians (hoarders) of POEs. And really, it’s a bad idea to try and get the POEs they guard.

They do start to decay the ‘older’ they get (except Desmond) but, for some reason, they never end up becoming fully skeletal which is weird. Underneath their skin are lightly glowing lines that matches the lines of the Isus so definitely Isu BS.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Hi ! I just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing it’s great . And since requests are open ( and sumeru is coming up ) I was wondering if you could write some sagau sumeru content ? I’d love to see it ! Have a great day / night : D

Sumeru sagau headcanons:

Hello! Thank you so much! I'm super excited for Sumeru honestly

Since I don't currently have a whole lot of information on all the stuff surrounding that, I can really only do basic headcanons, but I would be happy to flesh this stuff out a bit once the content is actually released and we get more solid information surrounding the region and characters and such

But for nowwww

Warnings: Spoilers for the Sumeru trailer, general sagau stuff, vague mentions of death, general obsessive like behavior

• In Sumeru the disappearance/death of their God was particularly painful because of how much it resembled your disappearance

• A being that embodied wisdom, kindness and love, falling tragically to something they could only ever speculate, was almost the exact same as what legend told of your past

• Those stories ended up intertwining themselves with one another, to the point that some of the people in Sumeru considered you and there Archon God one in the same

• Not in a literal physical sense, but some of the more outlandish conspiracies are that their old Archon God was a reincarnation of you in a way

• If you return to Teyvat before the rebirth of the new Dendro Archon, then the people of Sumeru rely on you more heavily than any other nation

• In that instance, they would be a godless nation, and since they already consider you to be so closely related to their former God, it's almost as if this dissension was something of a rebirth for their land and the wisdom it held

• If you arrive after the rebirth when the nation is a bit more stable, which is the most likely situation to happen, you've got a bit more wiggle room

• The people aren't so heavily reliant on you to be their guiding figure then

• But, either way, when you do get to Sumeru, it's going to be very difficult for you to leave

• The people living there often use the serenity and beauty of nature to keep you, why would you rather be anywhere else?

• Their Archon is the youngest, the least experienced, and this can be worrisome for some of them

• They know that having you around would both help with general morale, and the guiding of their realm to what it once was through your hands

• Their land could only truly flourish under your reign of course

• It only makes sense that you, in your all knowing and all seeing wisdom, reside in the nation of wisdom when they need you the most

• All the regions fight to be your permanent residence really, it's considered the greatest honor for them

• And you certainly have a place to stay in each, the work you do requires travel, and why wouldn't you want to indulge in the beauty of your lands?

• But Sumeru is widely known to have pushed the hardest, been the most persistent, sacrifice the most in order to provide you with a place that you would truly want to reside

• A place that you could consider home

• When it comes to forms of worship, each nation is kind of known for offering things that relate to their element

• So in this case, you better be prepared for a whole lot of flowers

• You're going to be absolutely covered in them, almost everything you touch is also going to be covered in them

• And everywhere you step and everywhere you look and—

• You get the point

• They're a domain that is lush in beautiful greenery, of course they're going to use that to their advantage

• Also every single statue of you that is in their domain has a flower crown

• In some of the smaller towns it's turned into a local ritual, who gets to make the daily flower crown that goes on their personal statue of you

• They, like every nation, believe themselves to be your one true successor nation, the one you favor most, the one that is most in your image

• It boils down to the concept of life and death, growing and dying, that's what their domain is founded on when you dig deep enough into it

• And of course, what is more godlike than that?

[anxiescape]

Celestial Bodies AU: A Battle Between Two Monkeys

*contains major spoilers for Celestial Bodies*

(Also, warning, this is a bit of a long read.)

EDIT: Forgot to mention that I wrote this out to answer a question for @mage-of-words, so I hope this answers it! (The tag isn’t working and I don’t know why 😭)

So, do you guys remember how in JTTW, Wukong and Macaque had that huge fight during the journey, which ended in Macaque’s death? Of course you do.

But did you know that that same battle happens in Celestial Bodies? And that it still results in Macaque’s death?

“But why?” I can hear you asking in despair. “They’re so sweet with each other. They love each other. Wukong legiterally takes on the Jade Emperor for him! Why would they fight? And why would Wukong kill Macaque?”

Well, let’s start at the... not the beginning, per se, but at a significant point in the story, shortly before Wukong was thrown into the Trigram Furnace.

During a talk between Wukong and the Jade Emperor, the Emperor claims that Macaque betrayed Wukong, and told the Celestial Realm all about Wukong’s plans and such during the battle. This isn’t true (the Jade Emperor be bluffin’ here), and Wukong doesn’t want to believe him, but... how else could he have lost?

(Because you’re an overconfident, cocky idiot, Wukong. That’s how you lost. But anyway.)

During his 49 days in the furnace, and his 500 years under the Five-Phases Mountain, Wukong has a long time to think about things. About Macaque, and their relationship, but one thing that keeps coming to his mind is what the Jade Emperor told him about Macaque’s supposed betrayal. This continues to be on his mind, even during the journey.

Now, let’s swap to Macaque’s POV. He has been in a magic-induced sleep since his capture by the Celestial Realm. Pretty fun, right?

Well, the Jade Emperor and Lao Tzu have been at work. Obviously, Macaque was pretty darn useful to them, what with his super-hearing and natural intelligence and all. He was a pretty good fighter, too. Obviously, they want him back. But they’re not going to risk waking him, because then that gives him the chance to escape.

So Lao Tzu has been at work. He has been experimenting—making clones of our celestial moon monkey boi. It took at least a couple hundred years before he succeeded in making one that was actually stable and could survive outside of his laboratory, but he isn’t able to make a spirit to put into them—to give them life.

Now this gets into, like, sci-fi territory, just a little bit. Do y’all know that one episode of Doctor Who, where Amy Pond was replaced by a flesh duplicate? (Uhh... Doctor Who spoilers, by the way. 👀) She was piloting the duplicate from a weird tube/containment pod thing that she was trapped in, and she never even knew that it wasn’t her real body, or that anything was amiss, until she was released from the connection with it.

A very similar thing happens here with Macaque. Using some pretty intense magic seals and spells, Macaque’s mind is connected to the first proper clone. From there, Lao Tzu tries to brainwash him, for lack of a better term. And the “good” thing about these clones is that they are significantly weaker than a celestial monkey. So anytime Macaque tries to break free and escape in one of the clones, he is restrained, and the connection is broken until they are ready to try again. If they fail to restrain the clone and he flees, it is destroyed.

This continues for many, many years—decades, if not centuries—until Macaque’s brain is so messed up that he stops trying to run. Then the real brainwashing can begin. They tell Macaque that Sun Wukong has been captured, and is being held captive by a group of demons and their human master. They tell Macaque that they will allow him to go after Wukong, and if he can free him, then the two monkeys can go live happily ever after—they don’t care about the war anymore.

Obviously, this sounds too good to be true. But Macaque is desperate at this point, and his brain is really confused with all sorts of “false memories” that are left over from the previous “de-comissioned” clones. This poor monkey has suffered through quite a bit of gaslighting, as well. So he eagerly agrees to this plan, and is sent off in search of the scripture pilgrims.

“Woah, woah, wait,” you’re probably thinking. “Why would the Celestial Realm send Macaque after the pilgrims? Don’t they want the scriptures retrieved and all that? Aren’t they on Tripitaka’s side? Kinda?”

Well, yes. But as mentioned before, the Macaque clones are weaker than actual celestial monkeys. They are much easier to kill. So, Lao Tzu and the Jade Emperor’s plan is for Macaque’s clone and Wukong to fight, and for Wukong to kill the clone. Then Wukong will think that Macaque is dead, and he won’t bother to look for him anymore anyway, because obviously he would hate Macaque for attacking his pilgrim brothers, right? And then they can leave Macaque’s sleeping form to rot in its prison cell, forgotten, never to wake and cause trouble for them ever again.

Well, not exactly. Wukong fights the clone, and kills it out of a mixture of rage, exhaustion, and many other overwhelming feelings, and he is distraught. He can’t believe what he has done to the one that he truly loved. And he breaks down.

But luckily, the Buddha is here, and he’s pretty frickin’ cool. He could tell immediately that the clone was not the actual Six-Eared Macaque, and he lets Wukong know this. Mr. All-Knowing here lets Wukong know that Macaque is still in the Celestial Realm, being kept captive under powerful spells and hidden away in Lao Tzu’s tower. This sounds too good to be true, but Wukong is willing to believe it—it’s better than believing that he killed Macaque.

So the journey continues, and eventually comes to an end. And now it’s time for a monkey rescue. Wukong and his awesome pilgrim brothers head back to the Celestial Realm to get Macaque back, and I’m not gonna spoil any of that fun 😈, but it does result in Wukong rescuing Macaque and waking him from his so-called “eternal slumber.”

This is the first time Macaque has “woken up” since his “death” by Wukong’s hands, and the first time he has actually woken up since he was placed under the sleep spell. Macaque tells Wukong about this awful dream that he had where they fought, and Wukong killed him. Wukong is silent.

Macaque’s voice shook as he looked Wukong in the eyes, and fearfully whispered: “It... it wasn’t a dream. Was it?”

Yeah, these monkeys have a lot that they need to work through. But that’s okay. Now they have each other, and all the time in the world to work things out. Together.

The end. 💕

~~~~

Sorry for that info-dump, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway! Let me know what you think!

Also, you guys can thank Amalgamorph for this wonderful clone-Macaque idea, because I was originally just going to have Macaque straight up die. It was going to be really sad. 😭

[scarlet--wiccan]

If you were to write a What If? story with Wanda and/or any of the Maximoffs what would the premise be? And what kind of cool stuff would you do for her?

I've got a few ideas. Some of these are kind of basic...

What if Wanda and Pietro had joined the X-Men? It's been done before, but I'm mostly interested in bringing Wanda closer to Illyana and Madelyne. They have a lot of common experiences and similar trauma, and they all tend to be polarizing figures. What would it look like if the three of them were striving together for liberation and freedom-- what lengths would they go to, and who would oppose them?

What if Natalya had saved Wanda and Pietro from the High Evolutionary? Growing up as the Scarlet Witch's successors, they would have been prepared to confront Chthon much earlier. What if they took back Mount Wundagore and turned it into a magical sanctuary, with Pietro leading the Knights? Would that bring them into conflict with Agatha, or would she be their ally?

What if Wanda had joined forces with Victoria Montessi and the Darkhold Redeemers? Kind of the opposite of the last one, I imagine Wanda sacrificing her chaos magic abilities to banish Chthon. Where does she go from there?

What if Billy and Tommy had never died and were raised by Wanda and the Vision? House of M wouldn't have happened, for one thing, and the Young Avengers probably wouldn't exist. I imagine the twins striking out as young superheroes with their cousin Luna, who would be sort of older sister figure since she was born first, and there's no retro-reincarnation...

What if Billy and Tommy were synthezoids? How would you translate their canon powers and personalities in that setting? I think Tommy would be better at flight and density manipulation while Billy would excel at holograms and solar energy projection.

... but I've got a couple that are more fleshed out.

What if Wanda had gone through with marrying Doctor Doom? The basis of their canon relationship is not really healthy or consensual, but I do think these characters have a lot in common, and we've seen that Wanda, with her memories and agency, is more than capable of keeping Victor in line. Introducing Wanda to Latveria's political sphere would be super interesting, and I think that Victor would be very earnest in protecting her and her family. Billy and Tommy would be made princes, and I like to imagine Pietro becoming Doom's Herald and receiving the Power Cosmic instead of Zora. Maybe he and Zora could have a little fling? I feel like they actually have really compatible personalities.

On a more serious note, what would it look like if Victor and Wanda had worked together to uncover the true Darkhold and bind Chthon? Imagine how powerful Latveria would become with an emancipated Wanda as its queen-- and all of the personal and moral challenges that would present to her. But with Latveria becoming such a major power, Billy's marriage to Teddy would unite Latveria with the Kree and Skrull peoples, which could get all kinds of complicated. A lot of people have done the political space-marriage thing with HoM AUs, so it's not a new concept, but it is a fresh angle.

What if Wanda had channelled the Phoenix to resurrect her sons? Walk with me here-- let's assume for this AU that the Maximoffs are mutants. This idea originated as a way to streamline the events of the late 2000s and early 2010s, and end the Decimation saga with Wanda's name cleared and the mutants in a more stable position.

Wanda is immediately overwhelmed and goes Dark Phoenix-- and in the ensuing battle, Pietro is killed trying to protect her. Wanda resurrects him, and, in a state of rage, unleashes the Decimation before disappearing. The events of Young Avengers and Son of M follow as they did in canon, but this time, Billy, Tommy, and Pietro are all harboring a shard of the Phoenix Force. When they eventually find Wanda in Latveria, she regains her memories, and they become the Phoenix Four. The events of Children's Crusade lead directly an AvX scenario, with the Avengers and X-Men vying to either eliminate or control the Maximoff family, who only want to use their power the fix the damage Wanda caused in the first place. Eventually, Hope steps up and helps Wanda dispel the Phoenix for good, and in doing so, reverses the Decimation completely. Then everything gets to be, like, relatively normal until Krakoa.

[thebluestbluewords]

cinderellaverse?? In my 2024??

it’s more likely than you think!

(for context: the rotten ot4 are wildly codependent, Ben is possibly seducing them all via unreciprocated acts of kindness, and this takes place directly after the iconic Good Boy scene, only with some AU changes that aren’t ready to post yet).

(why am i posting this if no other context is finished yet??? Because I’m needy and crave validation. Next question, please).

+

“Ugh,” Mal agrees. She looks mostly asleep still, which is understandable. “Weird. Did you eat yet?” 

Carlos lifts the napkin-wrapped bundle in his hands. “I brought food. To share. If you want.” 

This, predictably, gets Mal up. They’re far enough away from the isle that Carlos can almost believe that their parents aren’t lurking behind every dark corner of the castle, but not so far that they’ll turn down fresh food, even at stupid early hours.

“Berries?” 

“Yeah. Brought berries for you. And muffins.” 

“Evie wants chocolate,” Mal says immediately, stretching out both hands for the napkin-wrapped bundle. “And weird that Ben made you meet someone new. I thought we’d already been subjected to every princess-type in the school by now.” 

“Not a person. He made me meet a— a dog.” 

Mal stops with the muffins in her hands still outstretched. “Oh,” she says carefully, which is nice of her. Their Auradon education must be kicking in, or some shit. “And you’re not halfway home?” 

“I was. But Ben sort of—put the dog away and tracked me down? He was cool about it. We went over afterwards to check out the stables, cause he thought maybe it was like, just animals I don’t like, and they’ve got cats and stuff there. And the dog was on a leash, and he’s actually super tiny and not murderous.” Carlos shrugs, telegraphing the motion as much as he can. Which isn’t much. He’s supposed to be working on the whole expressing emotions thing. Even though it’s so much easier to shut down entirely whenever he feels an emotion. “So yeah. Still alive, still here! And Ben’s being weird.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Just weird. He was being all nice and stuff. D’you think he’s been bribed by Fairy Godmother to get info on us?” 

“Might be,” Mal agrees, tearing into her muffin. She’s unwrapped the whole bundle, and laid them out in an order that’s got to make sense in her head. (it shouldn’t make sense. They can’t afford to be predictable. Predictable is how you get your lunch stolen, or poisoned, or eaten by pirates who think it’s funny to take a perfectly rotten sandwich and swap it out for seaweed slime). “You should eat though. You didn’t tell him anything, right?” 

Carlos pulls a scrap off the cinnamon sugar muffin. It’s the one Mal’s put in his assigned spot, which is directly across from her own, with Evie’s double chocolate on the left and Jay’s lemon poppyseed on the right. He’s not really hungry, but it’s still too much to turn down food, so he rolls it between his fingers until half of the sugar falls off into the napkin, and the rest of it is compressed into the smallest possible ball of muffin flesh. He can eat a little piece of it, and then Mal will stop asking, and he can eat for real later. Once he’s alone. 

He pops the ball of muffin into his mouth. “No. Not really.” 

Mal shoves another mouthful of muffin into her mouth. She picked the blueberry one, and it turns the whole mess of it vividly purple as she chews. “Cool. He’s probably just being a royal brat then, trying to get some new intel for the gossip mill. But hey, it’s cool that he showed you the stables. Maybe next time we need to get to town you can steal us a horse, yeah?” 

Carlos snorts. He’s seen a horse now, and there’s no way they can get away with stealing something that big and ornery. Cars might be bigger, but they don’t bite and they don’t poop and they don’t have teeth the size of his fingers and a desire to bite through anything that looks even remotely like a carrot. “Yeah, no. Horses are fucking giant.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mal says casually. She throws one of her loose berries up so she can catch it in her teeth. Sometimes, when it’s just the four of them, Mal forgets to act human and does things like this. Things where she snatches treats out of the air with her teeth, when her neck bends in ways that a human’s shouldn’t, like she’s forgotten that she only has seven bones in her neck and not seventeen like a standard dragon. “Nobody ever wakes me up at the crack of dawn to show me cool shit.” 

Carlos wants to laugh and make this whole thing normal, but he’s fucking exhausted and the cinnamon sugar from the muffin is sticky on his fingers. He’s been trying to pull it apart carefully so that his whole hands don’t get covered in the crumbly topping, but that’s been working about as well as their escape plan so far, which is to say not at fucking all. “Yeah, yeah. He also made us run laps first, don’t be jealous.” 

Mal snaps her teeth. “I’ll be whatever I want. He didn’t do anything else?“ 

“Nope.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, mom. He just wanted to talk a bunch about how we’re settling in. And how we’re doing emotionally.” 

[kosomolski-dolls]

=/

I guess, this is my first Fairyland Rant. Long post.

I've been buying from Fairyland since 2016. My first dolls were Minifees, and I have quite a collection of them by now. I never had any problems with them. Had some seamlines here and there, but nothing outrageous or super noticable. Never had problems with Resin fleshing on the hands, inside the hips, weirdly drilled tunnels, or ridiculous seamlines like some of my friends had every now and then over the years.

I was super excited when they released their merman last summer. I love mermaids, I have their seahorse already and love it, and that new tail was gorgeous, even if less posable. I don't mind that, I sometimes value aesthetics over movement, and from their pictures, he can stand, sit and kneel, and that's all I wanted.

When he was released, I ordered the body with a split (as I didn't want the head), and ordered a tan Fairyline Sirin, a blue and red tail, and the Juri23 head to go onto the boy body from the split.

I was a bit worried that the blue tail may not fit the girl that well, because the bodies are different, but on their page it said "compatible for both boy & girl" and the pictures said that as well, so I was optimistic that it would work out.

I got my package in October last year and was pretty happy with the fit on Sirin's body!

But the first disappointment came shortly after, when I realised... she cannot sit??

This is as far as it goes, and even that only worked because I supported her on her hands. And it's gaping at the back, so... well. Not too happy about that.

A friend of mine asked them about it, and they actually told them, that the doll isn't made for sitting. Then why the hell do they advertise it like it is??

Thankfully, I tried around a bit and found that if you turn the upper part of the tail around, the sitting situation improves (I was inspired by their seahorse tail, where you also turn around pieces according to what pose you want. But unlike the seahorse, it wasn't made/planned by them to work like this and only does because the rigged edge of the upper joint just snaps into the right places).

Still gaps a bit at the back, but well. (Supporting her with one arm, just because FL resin is super slippery. After suede, she sits fine)

She can kneel and stand though. Though the latter needs some balancing skills and the red tail needs suede to make it happen, because the fin just gives in otherwise...

So, not off to a great start.

Then, a few days ago, I got my body in the mail from the split host (it was bought on layaway, so it took a bit longer). I love it, I was surprised that it had a different mechanism in the hip joint (no cups, the mechanism looks similar to their smaller lines like Littlefee), and it was pretty stable. He moved easily and held his poses nicely, no suede needed.

But then today, I wanted to put him on his tail and... was utterly disappointed.

It seems to me that they prioritised the fit on the girl body, as their girls are usually more popular than the boys, but? Still? It doesn't really make sense to me? =') it was MADE for a MALE doll.

Just to give you an idea. Fit on Girl vs Fit on Boy:

As you can see, he gaps both in the front and back because he is too narrow for the opening, which is pretty obviously fitted for the girl body.

But he also slides back and forth because the bottom of his torso doesn't really meet the ground of the hip joint. Because he is too wide as well, to really fit into the hole! =/

And when I looked at their pictures of the tail again... well, on ONE picture you could actually see a bit of a gap.

So, needless to say, I'm quite bummed about this. I will try not to let this ruin my mood and the love I have for Juri23, because man, that face is so adorable. I will try to boil the tail joint and make it fit to the body. I know that some people have done similar things with the seahorse tail, but I really shouldn't have to do that on a doll this pricey.

(My Gem of Doll merman has a similar problem, though not as severely, and in his case it's kinda understandable since the tail was made for their girl body. And, again, that doll was about half the price)

If you read all of this, well, have a cookie 🍪

I'm not here for general FL bashing, btw, I'm still cranky about a recast supporter "justifying" buying them because "FL quality is shit anyway", so spare me with that. I'm very happy with all my other dolls, but this one is not something that slipped through quality control, this is just... not okay.

[oculusxcaro]

Had a funny thought at work today about which of my muses are the most dangerous, particularly when it comes to biting somebody and the answer? It's this bitch right here.

So, Khare doesn't look very dangerous and why would she? She can't exactly fight, she isn't super strong nor does she have any super cool amazing powers like being able to shoot webs out of her wrists or freeze somebody solid with a single touch. She can drop her arm and regrow it (very) painfully though, and that is precisely WHY you're COMPLETELY FUCKING FUCKED if she ever bites you. Her mutation? It's eating her alive, but she's able to stave off the worst effects due to receiving consecutive injections that gave her immune system enough time to hunker down and start fighting back against these new invaders in their space. It can't stop the onslaught indefinitely but it does grant her time, a war of attrition if you will. Her DNA is doing everything it can to remain stable and keep the host going but eventually it'll all come tumbling down like a house of cards and then Khare will REALLY start looking bad. That all changes if she bites somebody because they did not receive the same chain injections and have absolutely NO resistance to the DNA-altering enzymes in her body. One bite is all it'll take for a few DNA fragments to become lodged in the unlucky victim's wound and while at the time it seems like a normal human bite, the damage it'll cause will be beyond catastrophic. It won't start off that way. Hell, the wound might even heal unusually quick but it's as normal a bite as a human can give. You'll forget it even happened and life will go on as normal for a little while, that is until the itching starts. It'll start in the area where the bite occured, an incessant itch that won't go away no matter how many times you scratch it. That feeling will eventually spread across the afflicted area, running up your limbs, into your torso, wherever the hell that fucking waitress bit you for whatever goddamn reason. It just won't stop and not even heavy painkillers or booze will touch it. Then the itching'll get worse, and soon you see... things beneath your skin, strange little hives. Except... they're not hives, they're tiny fucking eyes and lumps of abnormal tissue that keeps rising to the surface, spreading like a rash as your skin just... starts to melt. You're hot, you're clammy, you're plagued by relentless thirst and drink and drink and drink except it's a thirst that cannot be quenched, and you're just so fucking hot and itchy you're about to claw your skin off except that'll just make the whole process move even faster. You start melting. Skin sloughs off like musty old clothes, new flesh trying and trying to replace what was lost except this mutation was never intended for you. What was once a foreign body has now inoculated in your very own immune system long enough to turn it against you, destroying you from within right down to your very last cell. You stop thinking, you can't think because your organs are all liquifying including your brain and if you're *still* alive at this point, you've never wished for anything harder than for it all to just end already. If Roman bites you, it's going to fucking hurt but it'll heal depending on how hard he did it. If Man-Bat bites you, you might need a blood transfusion because of the draculin in his saliva. If Kirk bites you, he was being kinky. ;') If Stoplight bites you however, say goodbye to whatever limb he got ahold of. If Copperhead bites you, count yourself lucky if you only end up in hospital but if Khare bites you, you are already dead. You just don't know it yet. So... yeah. Try to avoid any love bites from this girl because whatever you think it's worth, it's really really not. Trust me on that one. x

[salazarsrighthand]

Thinking about some of the common morphology in T-Virus derived mutants in RE. Let's talk about

The V-ACT Process

The V-ACT Process occurs in those infected with T-Virus strains when the body is under extreme stress, such as injury or starvation. The process causes the body to rapidly regenerate tissue, allowing for the infected to become stronger, faster and deadlier.

The most famous results of the V-ACT Process are lickers (introduced in Resident Evil 2) and crimson heads (introduced in Resident Evil (Remake)). The most obvious shared traits are their sharpened teeth, claws and red skin (actually caused by their outer layer of flesh being shed, resulting in exposed muscle tissue)

Another notable result is the Super Tyrant (First featured in RE2). This is what happens when a tyrant is stripped of its trenchcoat limiter, allowing it to undergo continued mutation. Similar to the Licker and Crimson Heads, the Super Tyrant possesses extremely large claws. It also develops a rough, calloused skin texture. The fact that it doesn't shed its skin entirely like the licker may be due to the lack of necrosis.

Resident Evil 3 (remake) showed us a new design for the mutated Nemesis tyrant, taking on a quadruped stance, having its teeth grow substantially and (notably for the similarity to the Licker) losing its eyes or having them overgrown with new tissue. It would later undergo an even more extreme mutation, becoming essentially a huge mass of cancerous flesh with only the head being recognizable.

Finally, featured in Resident Evil: Dead Aim, Morpheus D Duvall enhances themself with a combination of the T and G viruses, the extreme regenerative properties of G being cancelled out by T's tendency to cause tissue death. As a result, Morpheus is mostly stable in their mutation. This is until they receive a serious amount of damage, at which point the T Virus' V-ACT Process kicks in. This causes their body to rapidly expand due to new tissue growth, becoming an engorged blob-like mass. This ultimately results in their death, as their body continues to grow well beyond its limits and ultimately explodes.

So, yeah, the V-ACT Process. A neat little piece of Resident Evil lore that ties together some of the franchise's most recognizable creatures.

[mattsdae]

idk how tumblr works but here’s some of my mattrey opinions

SFW

- ppl always act like trey is the romantic and matt’s the sexual one when i feel it’s the opposite?? like matt has always had very stable and long lasting relationships compared to trey.

- no hate to the dude, but him getting cheated on made him a sleezeball

- i always imagine matt as just.. a guy and trey as the worst person on earth /pos

- like, he was a total womanizer during the 90’s-00’s

- matt is just.. a sweet guy. like he’s the type of dude that i’d bring home to my parents.

- even though matt is a literal sadist (idk where the article is, but during an interview, he talks about how their work environment is ‘like a frat house’ before describing how he forced an intern to eat too much food and they threw up)

- but he also said if he had one sexual superpower it would be to please one woman really well (which is literally the sweetest thing ever)

- he also seems like a lowkey sleeze but he probably grew out of it when he met angela

- also, i’d like to point out how sweet and touchy matt is with angela 💕💕

NSFW

- trey is a freak. like not in a normal ‘i like to be tied up’ type of way.

- he’s the type to describe literal war crimes when telling u about his fantasies.

- matt’s the type to try anything once but isn’t super into any of it

- it can be frustrating not knowing what exactly turns him on, but he’s more turned on by the person he’s with and how attractive they are to him, not what they’re doing.

- he does like getting his hair pulled/played with. that’s literally the only thing that could get him bricked up within seconds.

- trey is noisy as hell

- he just lacks shame, so he makes whatever noise he wants. even if it annoys the shit out of all the neighbors, he’ll still scream ur name if he felt like it

- matt isn’t noisy, but he doesn’t hold back either. he’s naturally kinda quiet other than little grunts or moans.

- trey passes out as soon as he cums. like, it takes about 2 minutes TOPS for him to fall asleep

- like, he’d fall asleep on u if he could

- (he’s tried)

- matt is an aftercare king. warm washcloth to clean you off, a bubble bath to relax and a towel straight out the dryer for when you get out.

- usually u try to do aftercare for him because the first time you tried, he was confused and said that nobody’s given him aftercare before.

- he’s just such a sweet guy when he isn’t skull fucking you until you throw up (sorry if that’s too much)

- kinda random but trey seems like the type to watch insane porn. like the shit that could put you on a watchlist.

- remember the scene where randy is trying to jack off when the internet turned off? that’s what trey’s internet history looks like.

- not even in a horny way, he just thinks its really funny (aka physically repulsive)

- he uses a vpn religiously just bc of the porn

- also kinda random but matt could pull off ‘mean dom’ so well. like, so well you question if he’s really roleplaying or not.

- really good at degrading and humiliating, but only if u ask

- he acts like he only does it because you ask, but let’s be real, he loves treating you like dirt during sex.

- i take back what i said, matt’s also a freak

- not in the same way as trey, but he’s definitely kinky

- he likes being dominate because he gets to be mean. like, he’s genuinely an asshole and loves to make fun of people, so doing that AND getting you off is a win-win

- he also likes acting like he isn’t into it (?). like, he’ll check emails while you give him head, scroll through twitter while you ride his thigh, watch porn while fucking you, the whole nine yards.

- of coarse, he doesn’t really mean it and during normal sex, he looks like he’s on cloud-9 the whole time.

ok that’s all for now, probably gonna flesh out these ideas in the future <3

((edit; accidentally said masochist instead of sadist))

[dani474]

For @sun-lava

First off, thank you so much for sending this! It wasn't the ask button because I forgot to turn it on, but no worries.

Now, for your first prompt –

I didn't change too much because I think Yanli's presence quite important in getting Wei Wuxian stable, Jiang Cheng to come over to Wei Wuxian's side rather than remaining further away on the battlefield, and also makes his reaction to the potential danger that much faster.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian make it to Yanli by cutting a path one behind the other, giving them time to lay her down, this time in Wei Wuxian's lap. He struggles with his control, and Yanli is still the one talking him down.

Jiang Cheng is trying to defend them from the corpses while Wei Wuxian tries to refocus enough to play chenqing. "Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng shouts, full of fury and terror. "You said you could control it! Aren't you supposed to do the impossible!"

He is momentarily distracted by the decrease in corpse movement and nearly misses someone in gold fabric coming closer in a rush. When he catches sight of it, he blocks Wei Wuxian, fearing he will see another person he loves hurt.

Jiang Cheng grasps the sword with one hand, trying to slow the movement (either through the flesh friction or forcing spiritual energy into the blade) and manages to reduce the damage.

Wei Wuxian is caught between Yanli's and Jiang Cheng's injured bodies and equally panics.

Scene clip: "Jiang Cheng." Wei Wuxian gasps, the world around him dampening behind a haze. "Jiang Cheng, shidi. Why-why would you..."

Hands come up to press against the wound, Jiang Cheng's back colliding with a firm, thin chest even. Distantly, he registers someone talking in the background, but the words slip away.

A hand joins Wei Wuxian's over the gushing wound in Jiang Cheng's chest. A familiar, delicate hand pressing down with full bodyweight.

Jiang Cheng's mouth part, voice sticking as he tries to speak once.

Blood slipping between their fingers. Blood seeping into Yanli's robes. Into Wei Wuxian’s.

The stygian tiger seal hums viciously. Urging. Eager.

Jiang Cheng's voice finally cracks out, piercing the haze of Wei Wuxian's mind. "Bastard."

~~~~~~~~

This could go the worst and result in both of them dying, or could result in a very messy recovery and golden core reveal, as a result of WWX being unable to strengthen JC.

This idea is actually a super fun one, even just to brainstorm.

~~~~~~~~

As for your second one, I think that could open up a whole new host of things.

As Lan Xichen never meets Meng Yao here (as he did in novel canon), there would be the larger ramifications of not knowing there was a spy in the Wen sect. This could result in more losses during the sunshot campaign later, unless they meet and begin this exchange of information in some other way.

As this happens before the Indoctrination, the window for this to happen would be very small. Otherwise, Lan Xichen would have tried hiding elsewhere. If they came across each other during this time, Jiang Cheng would be concerned enough to try hiding him, possibly somewhere that only he and his siblings would know.

At some point, Lan Xichen is hidden and Jiang Cheng's parents are notified. Soon after, word of the Indoctrination would come out and Lotus Pier would anticipate an attack.

Lan Xichen worries over the Fate of his sect and his brother, then becomes concerned about Jiang Cheng being forced to go.

The Indoctrination largely goes the same. HOWEVER: Lan Wangji knows his brother is safe, and Lan Xichen's return to Gusu would likely result in a silent alliance against the Wen. This could have a huge impact in the month between this, the canon attack on Lotus Pier, and its fallout.

I can't say more than that, but the potential in thay is pretty huge. So much so that I'm not sure where to start for a scene clip.