#family life the story beyond the series

[atths--twice]

October 31, 2023

It's Halloween! And also the birthday of a very special little girl.

October 29, 2023

“Oh, these look amazing, Violet,” Scully said as she looked at the costumes their neighbor Violet had been furiously sewing to have them finished before Halloween. “I can’t thank you enough for helping us out. I am not a seamstress by any means.” 

“Not to fabric perhaps,” Violet said with a smile. “But you are a doctor who has stitched skin and that is very impressive.” 

“I’ll remember that when I chastise myself for not being able to work a sewing machine,” Scully laughed and Violet joined with a chuckle of her own. “Rachel will love these little patches you’ve added to Jacob’s costume and this Dorothy dress for Elizabeth is too perfect. Such a better feel than the costumes in the store.” 

“And not a fire hazard,” Violet added and Scully nodded, her eyes wide. 

“And I love the star tulle overlay on Faith’s dress. I know she’ll be scrambling to try it on and test out how it spins, as soon as she comes inside,” Scully said and Violet hummed in appreciation. 

They had all come over to Violet and Denis’s house after dinner, to both take a walk and pick up the costumes Violet had been working on for a few weeks. Mulder was outside with Faith and Denis, looking for the wooden animals Denis had carved years ago and had scattered throughout the yard, so Faith could greet them and see how they were doing. Bella ran along beside them, sniffing for rabbits that were too clever to be out and waiting to be chased by an often clumsy black dog. 

“You all will be the best looking group, I’m sure of it. You might run into others dressed similarly, but not as well done as you,” Violet said and Scully agreed. “Oh… and I made a little something extra for Faith.” 

“You did? That was kind of you, but you didn’t have to go to any extra trouble.”

“Oh, it wasn’t any trouble at all. I enjoyed doing it. I don’t have much that fills my days and I definitely don’t have little ones here to spoil, or too close by, so I was happy to do it. Besides, it’s her birthday gift. Well, it’s… part of it, because we do have something else for her, so it’s just because I can.” She nodded at Scully matter of factly and Scully laughed. 

“I’m sure that whatever it is, she will love it. Plus whatever else you got her.” 

“It’s-”

“Hi, Miss Violet,” Faith said as the door squeaked open and she walked inside, followed by the men. “Mister Denis put new animals in the yard, Mama. A purple porcupine and a red wolf. They are very pretty.” 

“You’ll have to show me when we leave,” Scully said, placing a hand on Faith’s head and smoothing her hair back. “Do you want to see your costume, my love? Miss Violet did such a good job sewing it for you.”

“Yes!” Faith exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down. 

Violet laughed and nodded, picking the pink dress out of the pile of costumes and showing it to Faith. Her mouth dropped open as she stepped forward to touch it. 

“It’s beautiful,” Faith whispered, running her finger over the gold and silver stars on the tulle. “It’s so pretty. I love it. It’s like a… magic fairy princess queen dress. I love it. Can I wear it right now?”

“Of course,” Violet said, smiling at her and Scully took Faith into the bathroom to try on the dress. 

“I LOVE IT!!” Faith yelled, spinning back into the room a few minutes later, her arms above her head. “It’s so spinny! Watch me, Daddy!” 

She spun around and around, all of the adults watching her and smiling. When she stopped, she wobbled slightly, her eyes needing a second to focus. 

“So, I take it you like it then?” Denis asked teasingly and she nodded, spinning around again. 

“You forgot part of the costume,” Violet said and Faith stopped spinning, dizzy and a little out of breath. “You need your wand and crown, Miss Faith.” 

Faith ran over to Violet and let her place the silver crown made from felt, which fit perfectly, onto her head. She then handed Faith the silver star wand that she had made from sequined material. 

“There. Now you’re ready,” Violet said and Faith grinned as she looked at her, holding the wand and waving it slowly. 

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” Faith asked in a lilted voice and they all laughed as she spun around again, waving her wand in the air. 

When she had quieted and stopped spinning, Violet told her she had an extra surprise for her. 

“What is it?” Faith asked, setting her wand down and smiling at Violet. 

“I’ll go get it. Stay right there.”

“Okay,” Faith said, looking at Scully. “Miss Violet has a surprise for me. I wonder what it is.” 

“I guess we’ll find out in a minute,” Scully said, curious herself what it could be. 

“Okay,” Violet said, coming into the room with something on a hanger that was covered by a white plastic bag. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to your beautiful dress before Halloween, I thought you might like a different costume to wear to school tomorrow. I know you like these because we’ve talked about them before. So…” Violet took the bag off the hanger and Faith and Scully both gasped. 

It was a mermaid costume with a shiny teal and pink ombre long sleeved top. It blended into a long shiny skirt with scalloped scales in shades of pastel blues and pinks. The tail was made of the same material, but it fell in full folds, assuring the spinny effect Faith would love.  

“It’s so pretty,” Faith whispered, coming closer to touch it. “It’s shiny, but not like a light. Like… like happiness.” 

“Happiness?” Violet asked, looking at Scully who shrugged, not understanding what exactly she meant. 

“Yeah,” Faith nodded. “Like how you feel when you’re happy.” She smiled and nodded again. “It makes me feel happy and shiny.” 

“Well,” Violet said, taking it from the hanger. “I don’t think any praise will ever compare to that, Miss Faith. Would you like to try it on?” 

And she did, coming out and spinning once again, the tail of the costume flying out around her knees. It landed just above her ankles, the perfect length for her to avoid tripping. 

“I can wear the mermaid costume to school tomorrow?” Faith asked as they left, thanking Violet again and waving goodbye as they walked down the driveway. 

“You sure can, baby,” Mulder said, lifting her up and putting her onto his shoulders. “You’re going to be a beautiful mermaid.” 

“Yes, I will,” Faith said, calling goodbye and blowing kisses to Jafadine, the life-sized giraffe that stood in Violet and Denis’s yard, and Mulder laughed. 

_____________

October 31st

“You’re sure this will wash off easily?” Mulder asked as Scully began to apply silver face makeup onto him, to transform him into the Tin Man. 

She stood between his legs as he sat on the closed toilet seat in the upstairs bathroom at Skinner and Rachel’s house, carefully spreading the makeup evenly. 

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we’re both in trouble, aren’t we?” she asked, stepping back to look at him and then glance at herself in the mirror, her own face painted green. 

“I think you look good,” he stated, grabbing onto the backs of her thighs and pulling her a little closer to him. 

“Absolutely not,” she said, leaning back and shifting out of his grasp as Faith and the twins ran down the hallway, laughing about something. 

“Absolutely not about what?” he asked, looking up with innocent eyes, but she was not falling for that this time. 

“If you get up to any funny business, I’ll have to reapply this makeup and it took a long time to get it right. It’s finally dry now and I do not want to start over.” 

“Mmm, why is it so sexy hearing that while your face is so green?” he asked, looping his arms around her waist. 

“Mulder,” she warned, shaking her head. 

“One kiss. I promise I’ll be good. I won’t even mess up your makeup.” 

“Yours will merge with mine and it will be a mess.” 

“We don’t create messes when we merge, only beauty,” he said as Faith shouted for Jacob and he laughed hysterically. 

“Mulder,” Scully laughed, her arms going around his neck, unable to resist him. 

“One kiss.” 

“One. Gentle and easy. I’m serious.” 

“Tin Man’s honor,” he said, holding up one hand and then placing it over his heart. “Or may I be struck down by rust.” She laughed again and he grinned up at her, silver paint on half his face. He pursed his lips and she began to lower her head to meet them when a loud scoff sounded at the bathroom door. 

“Jesus Christ, you two. You’re supposed to be getting ready,” Skinner said gruffly and they both turned their heads to look at him. He sighed loudly and Scully grinned. 

“We are.” 

“Bullshit. Stop all that,” he said, gesturing to their current positions. “Get ready. We’re on a schedule.” 

“Walter?” Rachel called from down the hall. “Can you bring the kids in here? I’m nearly done and you still need to get ready too.” 

“Yes, hon. I’m on my way,” he called back, turning to look in her direction. Looking back at them, he raised his eyebrows and then walked away, calling for Elizabeth and Jacob. 

“Ohhh... Dad got mad,” Mulder whispered and Scully chuckled as she quickly kissed him and then stepped back. “Hey! That’s not fair. I wasn’t ready.” 

“Tough shit. We gotta get a move on.” 

“Mama, can I get ready now?” Faith asked, walking into the bathroom wearing her mermaid costume and a purple sash with Birthday Girl written in rainbow letters. “Oh, Daddy! You look silly.” She giggled as she came closer, stepping between them as Scully continued putting the silver makeup on him. “Does it feel funny?” 

“No. It’s just kinda cold,” he replied. 

“Shh. No talking,” Scully said. “Or you’ll get creases. I’m nearly done.” 

A few minutes later, Faith giggling as she sang the Tin Man’s song, tapping out the beat on Mulder’s legs, Scully was finished. 

“There. Now let it dry for a bit and then get your costume on,” she said, wiping her hands on the paper towels she had brought into the bathroom. “Your turn, my love.” She smiled at Faith and she grinned. 

“I’m very excited,” Faith said and Scully laughed as Mulder stood up to look at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Well,” he said, turning his head from left to right. “It looks odd on its own, but once I’ve got the costume on, it will work. Thanks, love.” He put his hand out and Scully high fived him before he left the room. 

“Let’s get you up here on the counter. I’ll curl your hair and then we’ll put a little bit of makeup on you.” 

“But not like yours or daddy’s, right?” Faith asked, looking at Scully in the mirror, her eyes slightly worried. 

“No, love,” Scully laughed, testing the curling iron she had plugged in earlier. “Not like ours. Just a little bit of blush and maybe mascara and then we’ll put on your dress.” 

“Okay, Mama. I’m ready.” 

________________

Thirty minutes later, everyone was downstairs, laughing and commenting on how they all looked. 

“Unco Fox,” Jacob laughed, tapping Mulder’s leg. “Wobot.” 

“No,” Faith said, shaking her head. “He’s a tin man, Jakey. He’s made of silver tin. It will be rusty if he doesn’t use his oil can.” 

Mulder stopped walking and made squeaking sounds which caused Faith and Jacob to giggle. 

“Oilllll caaaaan,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Faith and Jacob laughed as they took turns using the small can that came with his costume to pretend to oil him up. 

“Oh… oh, thank you. I can move again,” he said, moving his jaw and opening and closing his mouth. He rotated his arms and then stuck his hands out to both of them. Shaking their hands simultaneously, he crossed them back and forth, causing them to laugh again.  

Scully turned her attention from them to Skinner and had to fight back laughter of her own. 

They had planned their Wizard of Oz costumes nearly two months ago, discussing who would be which character. When the decisions were final, Skinner had grumbled a bit, but Scully had also seen the smile tugging at his lips. 

She had known who he would be, but seeing him in his costume as the Cowardly Lion was nearly too much. 

“Okay!” Rachel shouted with a smile, adjusting the strings on the bonnet of her Lullaby League ballerina costume. “We’re going to take some pictures in the backyard and then we’ll head out to go trick-or-treating. We all look so good. I absolutely love these costumes. This was such a great idea. Let me get the phone set up out there.” 

They all trooped out to the backyard, grabbing the props for their costumes on the way. Bella, who had been brought along as Mulder, Scully, and Faith would be spending the night, ran up to give them all some licks, her tail wagging excitedly. She was placed inside the house for a moment so she would not be in the way as everyone then got together for the picture. 

Mulder, the Tin Man, stood beside Scully, the Wicked Witch of the West, with Faith, Glinda the Good Witch, in front of them. Skinner, the Cowardly Lion, had Elizabeth, Dorothy Gale, and Jacob, the Scarecrow, in front of him. Vivian, Rachel’s mother, who had arrived only minutes before, stood next to him. She was dressed as the tornado that had brought Dorothy to Oz, complete with the images Dorothy had seen inside the tornado stuck to her outfit. 

Scully smiled as she looked at all of them, even as she felt an unexpected lump forming in her throat. She felt Mulder place his hand on the small of her back and she nodded, letting out a deep breath. 

“Good?” he asked in a whisper and she nodded again. 

“Okay!” Rachel shouted, smoothing her pink ballerina costume. “We’ve got ten seconds. Get ready!” She pushed the timer and rushed over, squeezing in between her mom and Skinner. “Everyone say Pizza!”

“Pizza!” they all shouted and the phone flashed down from ten to one, snapping a burst of photos. 

“Let me check it, but I’m sure we got a good one in the bunch,” Rachel said, walking toward the phone. 

A few more pictures were taken and then they all left the house with their assortment of props, coffee tumblers full of wine, and Bella in tow. 

Many families were already out, the children shouting and running from house to house. Scully smiled as Faith and the twins walked up the first driveway, calling out trick or treat before the door was even open. 

People stopped them as they continued through the neighborhood, telling them how much they loved their costumes. 

When the twins began to slow down and lose interest, they walked back to the house, Faith dancing and spinning ahead of them. 

Not bothering to change out of their costumes as they still had one last celebration to attend to, they gathered in the dining room. 

The pink ombré cake that had been placed onto the table after dinner was lit with a golden number five candle and the lights were turned out. 

Happy birthday was sung to Faith, her blue eyes shining in the light of the flame, as she looked at each of them in turn, in her sparkly pink Glinda dress and silver crown, and she grinned. 

#the x files #family #family life the story beyond the series #halloween #halloween birthday #friends and family #family life #msr #happy #love #domestic life #domestic fluff #trick or treating #group costume #fun and happiness

[internetskiff]

Something about Gordon Freeman that's extremely fascinating is how he was basically forced into the "Messiah" role by complete accident. Dude was on his way to work, caught in an extremely awful lab accident, and he was just fighting for his life so brutally that he ended up taking down an entire army, making the other less capable or equipped scientists assign him as the one that would go in and take down the Nihilanth - I mean, they basically didn't have many other options, or at least not many better options at their disposal. The whole time he basically doesn't have much of a say in any of it, which means he was practically railroaded into becoming the G-Man's employee by pure circumstance.

Doesn't get any better in Half Life 2 either - the surviving Black Mesa staff have turned this man they potentially sent to die into a legend amongst the resistance movement. The Vortigaunts chant his name as they draw murals on the canal walls. The Lambda - a symbol of both the Lambda Labs but most notably the symbol on the HEV suit - now symbolizes liberation. Therefore, of course, the man who bears this symbol is the liberator. By the ending chapters of Half Life 2, Freeman commands entire squads of rebels, appointed the leader regardless of how good a tactician he actually is - if they die, they died for him, not because of him. As long as he gets to the Citadel and breaches it's wall, all those deaths would be worth it - once again, others send him into a near-inhospitable environment to take down a near-invincible threat.

I think that despite us being in control of Freeman for most of the series, the real protagonists of the story are the Vance family. Eli, too, was right at ground zero when the Resonance Cascade occurred. He is the leader of the Resistance. It's very possible that he's the one who spread word of Freeman throughout City 17. The fall of Nova Prospekt AND the Citadel occurred as a result of Eli's capture. In the Combine's eyes, the Vances are a threat equal to, if not greater than Freeman himself. That, and the Vances have something Freeman doesn't - agency. They're beyond the G-Man's control. They're beyond the Combine's control. Their actions are completely their own, with no third party to control every single step they take. Over the course of the Episodes, it feels as though the dynamic shifts, with Alyx becoming a much more vital figure. The Combine are specifically after her now, because she carries the code capable of disrupting the portal through which the Combine could send reinforcements and finally consume Earth. In both the Epistle 3 script and in Half Life Alyx it ends with her basically taking Freeman's position under the G-Man's employ. She quite literally takes the role of the Main Character away from Gordon. This, of course, is nothing to envy, because it's been repeatedly shown that any character assuming this role in the series ends up being reduced to nothing but a pawn for those who control them. It's an extremely fascinating spin on the linear nature of the games, canonically acknowledging you're doing nothing but marching along a path someone else made for you. Despite being the one free man, you're not offered much of a choice.

#hl #hl2 #hl 2 #half life #half life 2 #gordon freeman #alyx vance #eli vance #the combine #g man #gman #the gman #rambling #had thoughts on this for a while but only recently managed to formulate them

[throwaway-yandere]

𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗/𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 [Yandere Prince!Scaramouche/Reader]

A/n: After reading so many tyrant otome isekai manhwas, I thought I should give writing one a try... This story ended up being a bit more “real”(?) than OI. And I forgot the isekai part LOL. Love this fic a lot because the (L/n) family says the most banger lines. They spitting facts. Anyways, welcome to another throwaway-thursday, enjoy this one, @vennnnn-diagram because... lol.

Unreliable Synopsis: Exiled in Watatsumi island after publishing two anti-colonial novels outside their homeland, the famous reformist writer and physician (L/n) (Y/n) faces several familial deaths— and it all leads back to one man...

Content Warnings/Tags: Yandere themes, mentions of miscarriage (note: this is because this is very loosely based on a real life hero's biography), "lovers" to enemies, angst, character deaths, church corruption, politics, etc. Prioritize your mental health. The fic is meant to be a bit dark. You can listen to this song for the vibes 💖

"Are you going to Watatsumi Fair, Niwa?"

"Well, of course! The Lector works hard to make sure it's grander each year."

"Our Lector… I hope (L/n) is doing alright. It must be incredibly heartbreaking to lose a newborn son under three hours…"

"Indeed…"

It’s the 19th century and the streets chatter on about the upcoming festival. Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, and shiso— murmurs of food and spices exchanged at the Watatsumi Fair circulated. However, these four wonderful things wouldn't be there without a certain exile transforming the island into a thriving island: Lector (Y/n) (L/n).

Prince Kunikuzushi's most esteemed “rival”.

You were an exemplary philosopher and ophthalmologist who published two novels abroad that reflected Inazuma's social issues and military abuses. Of course, you were born in a noble clan. Only the wealthy can study outside Ritou and attain higher education beyond the basic arithmetic and religion Inazuman Colonizers gatekept your people with. You were slaves.

But these colonizers feared educated colonies would demand rights; hence, after publishing those eye-opening novels, you became Public Enemy #1. Charges against you were not absolved, but Inazumans could not execute you upon arrival. You were not a revolutionary, but a pacifist reformist. You made the government and clergy's behavior known worldwide, hence the military banished you to Watatsumi— another Inazuman colony and barren land. 

Assured that you've done nothing wrong, you stayed in Watatsumi. With nothing but your firm beliefs, your days of exile were your most productive. Using your skills as a physician and some wits on land surveying, you've improved Watatsumi’s quality of life in under 6 months. 

You're far from home with little spare change, yet you provided medicina gratis. With you, you’ve helped open the people’s eyes. 

You lived under the scrutinizing eyes of the Queen, yet you erected streetlights in each dark street. With you, you’ve helped the people see in this dark age. 

And most importantly, you have established Watatsumi's first school.

With you, the people understood the truth of their situation: they had been living under a tyrant’s rule for the past few decades.

And all you asked in return was for the people to help you in your ventures to improve the island's agriculture and spices.

How can the people of Watatsumi not love you for this martyrdom?

“(L/n) is organizing a secret rebellion association planning to overthrow the government”. That was the Queen’s grounds for exile, including false testimonial and documentary evidence. It was obvious that your books were in strong opposition to the current Inazuman Government.

Hence, Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko was incredibly fond of you.

"I still believe I am innocent of the crime of rebellion, illegal association, and sedition. All I did was publish two novels!" You hummed. "When the Shogun calls for my execution— and she will— do immediately ask for my body. They will likely throw it wherever they please. Worse, Kunikuzushi might use me as his doormat." 

The Archbishop laughed. "I can see that. His Highness does fit that character."

You and Umiko sat far from the festivities. Sangonomiya Umiko was neither friend nor foe. She is the current leader of Watatsumi Island, but she is restricted by the commands of the Queen and her children. Umiko cannot even preach about her true faith, hiding her birthright as the Divine Priestess and instead donning the title foreign title of Archbishop. Even with friendly demeanors, there’s an unmistakable grim air on both your faces.

No passerby would mistake this meeting as a romantic date. You have a wonderful spouse waiting home, appearing as crest-fallen as you do now. 

… But "Spouse" is a rather loose term. You and your partner were forbidden to have a wedding. Prince Kunikuzushi would not allow an exile to marry and no priest would disobey him. Hence, you and your lover decided to merely promise to the God you believe in that you'll remain loyal to one another. That faith and loyalty brought about a prematurely birthed child— who only had three hours to live until his breath was cruelly stripped away…

And historians would attribute your son’s death as a cause for your morbid obsession with your own future execution.

"Kunikuzushi is a personification of what's wrong with the Inazuman Empire," you said casually. "He will be the core of what causes the revolution, not I."

Umiko did not miss the way you addressed the Prince. You spoke without honorifics, an aspect in both Watatsumi and Inazuma's language that is evident in everyday conversations. Most revolutionists emphasize his high station with hatred. You emit those titles and call him by name.

As though it was a habit.

As though you were once friends and more.

"Lector (Y/n), do watch your tongue," she shook her head. "The walls have ears."

"And what if the walls have eyes and ears? They shall see and hear my innocence." You sipped your tea before you snapped your fingers with a grin. "Oh, and do me one last favor. When they'll let me face my executioners, armed with polished guns and a shoveled ground:"

"Only the guilty are shot in the back. Let me face the firing squad and spare my head so that I may die facing the heavens."

A glimpse of (h/c) hair ran past in the streets of Inazuma City, carrying a child in his arms. The child was injured but otherwise “fine”— as fine as children could be amidst the rains of ashy woods and turbulent fires. The city capital reeked of gunpowder and a nauseating metallic scent. The (h/c) haired man may not have any blood relations to the person whom they’re protecting, nor does he know her name, but he held onto the 8-year-old dearly. 

Despite the chaos that surrounded him, your older brother cannot help but think of one hopeful thought:

With the recent loss of (Y/n)’s son, maybe they’d be willing to adopt this little girl as my new niece? 

But all that ended abruptly when a loud voice resonated throughout the streets.

“DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THEM ESCAPE. NO SURVIVORS!”

Prince Kunikuzushi stood proud in the middle of it all. With calm finesse, he ordered the generals to order their soldiers to kill without a hint of remorse. His eyes were dull. All he knew was that his mother wished for the death of revolutionaries hiding in the capital. Whether these rumors were falsehoods or not, the Queen did not care. Fear is the family’s greatest weapon, bloodshed is nothing to them.

Death is nothing for a mother's puppet like him.

The Prince truly didn't have any care for this war. He's only following orders under the reward that he'll be able to have you. It was the Queen's promise, and she had always been relentless in any pursuit of honor and glory.

In return for his familial services, Queen Ei might consider his proposal. The royal family dreaded the death of their former matriarch, Makoto, and the prince showed no attraction to any of his valid consorts. Should he show loyalty to the end, the Queen will allow him to marry anyone to his liking.

That's why he's putting up with this.

He looked at the horizon, seeing nothing but fire instead of the deep ocean.

Why did Watatsumi have to be so far away?

Why did you have to be a sea away?

As fate would have it, a young soldier spotted the two. A hunt between two red-tagged innocent civilians and a greenhorn murderer commenced. Limping slightly, your brother attempted to push down restaurant chairs and other outside furniture in hopes he’d lose track of them.

The soldier did not know that the person he was tracking was your older brother.

Had he known, he would’ve left him alone.

And as much as fortune favors the bold, it was not on your sibling’s side.

The soldier fired his first reckless shot and hit its target.

Your brother stumbled, holding his stomach. He gasped, coughing as he subconsciously let the child go. But he did not fear for his life, but hers. He knew that the child was asleep on a park bench when the horns rang for danger. She was homeless with nothing but bedclothes and a short makeshift blanket, and now she’ll be forced to witness a traumatizing scene.

Poor child… You must be frightened…

I hope…

Your brother remains adamant that the child must live, even as the barrel of the enemy's rifle is pointed at his chest. A look of stern determination, mixed with fear, can be seen in his eyes as he stands his ground despite the threat of death.

That (Y/n) will raise you right…

“S-Scaramouche’s crown's resplendent band shows no natural light. The ocean's glimmer elucidates more hope than your vile scarlet battalions could ever hope for!!!” Your older brother yelled, weakly hiding the child behind him.

The soldier cocked the barrel against his forehead.

“There is no emprise to plundering, to murder and genocide—” he continued, coughing blood at the corner of his lips. “You will all be remembered in history as those who had foolishly paraded without genius. Death has a more ambrosial scent than a life of servitude under your heels.”

SHOT!!!

…

…

“M-Mister?... M-Mister?! MISTER!!!”

The child screamed as your brother fell to the ground. With the remaining humanity the young soldier clung to, he turned a blind eye towards the little one crying silvery tears. Truth be told, the new soldier himself had forgotten what it was he was fighting for. What was the point in this death, this pain, if not to harm both sides? But a good soldier does not question his orders and he leaves the child without a word.

She did not know his name. She did not know his status as a (L/n). She did not know he was the older brother of the famous physician (Y/n) (L/n). She did not know he was a martyr way before his true death.

But she still held his corpse with abandon. His body heat was slowly growing cold. Though her stature was short and small, her tears were heavier than her heart could manage.

(L/n)s may meet horrid ends, but Fate grants you all one last wish.

You all have the privilege of dying whilst facing the heavens, and that is the final honor your brother can carry with him in his passing. 

“My dear, a letter arrived,” your spouse spoke. “It came from your mother…”

It was deep into the night and you had just fixed yourself up for bed, but you’re not one to turn down letters. Perhaps your old friend from Opera Epiclese had sent you a reply? Igniting the nearby lamp, you lovingly kissed their hand before taking the letter.

“Thank you, love,” you cooed. “I’ll surely be writing a letter back, so why don’t you rest before me? I shall accompany you later.”

Leaving them with a blush, you shut the door behind you. Despite the struggles in your relationship, your love for your gorgeous spouse will never disappear over the unplanned loss of your first child.

Unlike Kunikuzushi’s…

You entered the living room and closed the door behind you. A wise decision, given the contents that were about to crush the little mental stability you had left.

“My Dearest (Y/n), It is with a heavy heart and trembling hand that I take quill to convey news that no mother should ever have to write down. As I write these words, tears splotch the paper, and each stroke of the pen is a painful reminder of the sorrow that has befallen our clan. My dearest child, it grieves me beyond measure to inform you that your beloved older brother, (B/n), has departed from this world. The weight of this solemn news rests heavily upon my shoulders, and the burden is almost too much to bear. The tragedy unfolded in the heart of the capital, where (B/n), in an act of unparalleled heroics, sacrificed his own life to save that of a young girl during a merciless ambush. His valor shone through, but the cost is another pain you must bear after the death of your own child. Oh, my (Y/n), the pain is unbearable. I wish I could shield you from this heart-wrenching truth, but I believe in your resilience. The thought that you are in exile, far from my comforting embrace, only adds bitterness to my heart. The cruel hand of fate has robbed you of the chance to bid a final farewell to your dear brother, to stand beside his resting place and pay tribute to his funeral. The distance that separates Ritou and Watatsumi feels insurmountable, and I ache at the thought of your solitary grief. I hope your spouse shall accompany you in these troubled times. In these dark hours, know that you are not alone in grief. Though separated, we mourn the loss of a beloved son and brother, the heir of the (L/n) clan. May time and the tender embrace of cherished memories bring some measure of peace to your soul. With all the love a grieving heart can muster, Mother”

As the ink on your mother's heartbreaking letter crumpled with sorrow in your heavy trembling grip, a weighted silence filled the room. The words she penned— each a painful jab to your psyche— threatened to spill tears you've fought so desperately to hold back for weeks since you didn’t want your spouse to worry.

Before you can succumb to weeping on the floor with a contorted expression and writhing body, the door opens, disrupting your peace. 

Prince Kunikuzushi, adorned with his mother’s feather and opulent regalia, strode into your humble abode with an irritating aura of entitlement. His presence, a stark contrast to the mourning atmosphere, successfully transformed your grief into weaponized spite.

"Still holding another Watatsumi Fair, are we?" he sneered, disdain dripping in every word. The callousness in his eyes and “indifference” to your mourning made the air all the more sharper.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” You spat out. “Had your clow— soldiers failed to entertain you?”

“They are nearly as boring as your spouse in bed.” He snarled. “And I wager that their lives last longer than they do.”

You bit your tongue. Your spouse had made an effort to teach you not to reply to any insult he had towards them, and you had done decently enough to honor their wishes by merely scowling at the royal instead of equipping any nearby blunt weapon.

“Allow me to ask again,” you forced yourself to be cordial. “What are you doing here, Kunikuzushi?”

The prince clicked his tongue.

“Do I not have the authority to visit you?”

“You do,” you said. “But you do not have the right to barge in as you please, much like how Lord Hiroshi shouldn’t have decided to conquer my homeland Ritou and decide to claim it as Inazuman property for your mother’s ever-so-eternal happiness.”

“He was only claiming what is rightfully ours.”

Prince Kunikuzushi looked over at your bedroom door. You took large steps forward, blocking his way. You won’t allow him to disturb your lover’s good night’s rest.

He frowned.

"You should have been mine," he muttered softly. 

You hated this about Kunikuzushi the most. He speaks with audacity that knows no bounds as he criticizes your spouse, but would sound the most pure when addressing his own emotions. “You should’ve said yes. You should’ve ruled these nations with me, and more. But you threw it all away and for what? Fragile patriotism? You are defending an island that will suffer the same fate as your beloved Ritou.” 

In the eye of this tempest, your mother’s burning words fuels a fire that burns brighter than any royal decree. 

"You speak of love and marriages," you seethed, voice cutting through the tension, "but you know nothing of the bonds that truly matter."

…

…

…

As the realization dawns upon him, his arrogance wavered. 

He had not realized early on that news about your brother’s death had reached you already.

"An accident," he stammered, attempting to deflect blame. "If I knew, I would have spared him in that ambush. I’m not an All-Knowing God, so it’s genuinely just an accident."

With a chilling calmness, you locked eyes with him. "That wasn't an accident— our previous affairs were an accident. What you've done was murder." 

Your words hung in the air, leaving no room for denial.

“I love you,” the prince spoke in near-whisper. “You know better than anyone that I would never do anything to hurt you this bad. You know that I am the voice that called for your exile instead of execution. I never would’ve asked for his death.”

His claim was also true. 

You knew you were the only person who he had fallen for his whole life. You knew because when you were studying abroad, you had strange chance encounters with him. You knew because he was mildly stalking you and would’ve for a long time had you not offered a seat in the library. You knew because he had been a difficult person to court, always bottling his own emotions and lashing out in retorts you had dubbed “adorable” at a time. You knew because he had told you himself years ago that…

"You are insufferable. And yet, I find myself inexplicably drawn to your company. It's horridly vexing. Your presence lingers in my thoughts long after you've departed, like an annoying insect. I must confess, despite my best efforts, I find myself rather fond of you too— ridiculously enough."

... But what you didn’t know during your studies in Fontaine was that Kunikuzushi was the son of the Queen you despised and wrote articles against in editorial jobs to earn not only spare cash but the enlightenment of your people back home. What you didn’t know was that the prince had been sent by his mother to monitor your actions.

What you did not know came to haunt you on your way back home. 

So you rid yourself of these memories and cornered him into a wall, a hand just behind his head. The sound of your hand slamming made the intimidating prince flinch, and he trembled at the dullness of your eyes.

“And yet whose orders was it? Whose order was it to ensure there would be no survivors in that location? WHOSE WAS IT, KUNIKUZUSHI?! ANSWER ME!!!”

Your spouse called your name from the other room. “(Y/n), is everything alright?”

With their voice, your anger faded slightly, yet your breathing remains loud and manic. “I’m alright! Do not leave the room, dear!”

“Scaramouche” took that as an opportunity to digress.

“I saved you from death before. Do not forget that.” His face hardened. “In case you've forgotten, I'm no saint. Many people will want to seek me out and settle the grudges they've built against me, and what better way to avoid that than to route those future seeds of rebellion?” 

The prince took your hand off the wall.

“Mother had enough, she sees no reason to hold back against those who rebel and she had filed an order to reopen your case. And if my blood and hers are the same, I guarantee you that she will only provide you with the worst defense attorney possible. You will surely receive the death sentence.”

He placed your hand on his chest, gripping it so desperately tight to the point of it hurting.

“So choose me,” Kunikuzushi mumbled. “Choose me, and save yourself. Do not follow your brother’s path. Choose me. I’m your only option.”

And heavens above, does he take delight in that.

You met his gaze with a resolute determination. 

"I appreciate your offer," you replied, your voice steady, "but I refuse. My brother's legacy, as tarnished as it may be, deserves justice, and so do I."

A flicker of frustration passed across Kunikuzushi's face. 

"You're being naive," he retorted, the desperation in his voice taking a sharper edge. "An arraignment is on its way. The military court will not deliver justice. It will devour you. I’m offering you a fucking lifeline, a chance to escape the inevitable."

“I won't tarnish my brother's memory by succumbing to the same shadows that claimed him."

Kunikuzushi's eyes, once filled with a glimmer of hope, darkened with frustration. "You're condemning yourself—" he argued, "—for an idealistic notion of justice that doesn't exist. You're a fool."

"Perhaps I am a fool," you admitted, "But I am a fool who is sure of their innocence. I am not a revolutionary, I only spoke and wrote of the truth. I will not compromise my integrity for the sake of expedience."

As you spoke, the defeat in Kunikuzushi's eyes began to settle. 

"You're determined," he snarled. "So stubbornly determined to die!"

"Perhaps," you acknowledged, "Choosing you would be an escape, but it would also be a betrayal of everything I stand for. And I…"

You smiled.

“I love my spouse,” you said. “And the child we made that was taken from me all so suddenly. Hence, I do not need your love, Prince Scaramouche.”

Kunikuzushi tensed up.

Your child was baptized by the Inazuman priests. 

And Inazuman priests serve the royal family and their constituents.

History’s eyes will speculate that Prince Kunikuzushi was the reason your child had died, that he had ordered your son's immediate poison upon birth.

And Kunikuzushi knows it to be true.

But you will never know that.

You will never know the full extent of what this man had taken from you.

With those words, you turned away from Kunikuzushi, leaving him and his offer behind. You opened the door and gestured for him to leave. Neither of you knew at the time that this would be the last night you’d spend in the comfort of your own home.

Before you knew it, you were writing your final farewells.

(Y/n) (L/n) was subjected by the military court on ████████ ██, ████ and was sentenced to death at six in the morning.

The people saw no justice for their hero, and your body was buried in Inazuma City. If it were not for all you and your clan had given, there would be no freedom in Watatsumi Island and Ritou. Had your brother not saved the young girl, she would not become the matriarch of the Yuna Clan, who led the first Navy in the revolution.

And had you not died in Inazuma City, there would be no Resistance.

But that was centuries ago. 

Divine Priestess Sangonomiya Kokomi sat on her desk, examining previous preliminary investigations. She racked her brain over the testimonies of the seven members of the military court, the judge advocate, the defense counsel, and the prosecuting attorney. The prince was right when he stated the trial would not be fair for you were forced to employ a Lt. Arataki as your defense. It was a prejudged trial. Despite the obvious assertion of innocence, you were still acquitted of your allegations of treachery.

It never fails to make the current Head Priestess feel sour over a 5 centuries-year-old case.

"In their last moments, (L/n) penned Watatsumi Fair and Canticle, two sonnets kept hidden in an alcohol burner." Kokomi murmured as she read. "Although the prince barred their spouse entry, several other family members and friends came to visit (L/n) with the Orobashi coral statue provided by the townsfolk. The sculpture was created for them during the aforementioned fair."

Are you going to Watatsumi Fair?

"In their Fontainian black suit, hat, shoes, and white vest, (L/n) walked calmly outside their prison cell to the execution site in Inazuma City. They've even checked (L/n)'s pulse and felt no irregularities. (L/n) were tied elbow-to-elbow despite their visible acceptance of fate."

"It was speculated that Prince Kunikuzushi was the last person whom they talked to, looking rather somberly with disdain. He spoke in a foreign language so only (L/n) and he knew of their conversation."

 

Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, shiso.

"But Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko understood what he had said. Je t'aime, mon grand amour… ma première trahison. Roughly translated as I love you, my grand love… my first betrayal."

"Lector (Y/n) (L/n) was commanded to face the ground when the firing squad pulled the trigger, but they still tried to face their executioners. They fell to the shoveled ground, looking at the gray morning skies. They were buried at seven."

“From then on, the name Kunikuzushi changed its meaning to Country Destroyer— for he had successfully demolished the Inazuman Empire upon sitting on the throne through violent means. When asked about this, the King responded with:”

Remember me to one who lives there.

“I didn't desire the Empire that took away my (Y/n). I didn't crave any of it. As soon as I was coronated, my heart stopped beating. And so, I enticed the neighboring King Morax to crumble the very essence of the Inazuman Empire. What purpose do these soldiers have in life, when all they've done is obediently follow ruthless commands and snuff out the ones who hold my heart?

When it’s said and done, I will be empty— a blank slate, destined to wander the desolate corridors of a nation bygone.

Only to honor these filthy human emotions called “love” that never came to be.”

He once was a true love of mine.

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist <3): @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram , @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen

#yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #ansy-addendums #yandere scaramouche #yandere wanderer #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere imagines #tw yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yancore #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere scara

[nonotnolan]

Stories I Love (Part 2)

Again, nothing personal with the order listed here, it's mostly chronological. Tumblr doesn't like a ton of hyperlinks, so the list is in two parts. Here's Part 1.

Though, now is a good time to point out a few major gaps in this list. One, I don't care for celebrity, sports, or sweat/fart transformations very much, so that eliminates a few prolific authors. Two, some authors have much bigger websites elsewhere, like @2xskin or @takeovertales, and I haven't been consistent about favoriting works that could be found in two places. Three, a special shoutout to @piosantaibhseil's very long body swap series which would be tricky to link otherwise.

Also, a special shoutout-- I don't think my blog would have nearly as much of a footprint without @bodyswap-possession-shapeshift's valuable reblog contributions to this community. He remains one of the fastest and most consistent about showing support to all creators on his lists, and I hope he knows how much that support has been appreciated over the years.

By @deviantknight25 : Implanted Mutual to Cover Medal and Leaf Surfeit Changes Partner in Crime

By @transformhim : Learning His Lesson Fun with the Mimic Changing Work Roles The Devil Next Door Sauna Shenanigans

By @tfmybody : The Intern A Fortunate Theft

By @tf-lover : The Homo Bomb - Lewis Ashton 12th Hour The Way You Look Tonight

By @bodyhopper-files : Just A Dream Untitled 12/26/22 How I Transformed My Dad's Life Make Me

By @0ng0ingw0rk : Morning Adjustments Paradise

By @verus-veritas : Slipping Out The Halloween Costume Love Thy Neighbor Untitled 9/24/20 Hard Work Pays Off

By @shootingstarwritings : Beach Bummin' It Back Home Couples Therapy

By @swap-and-possessions : Passed Out Suit Cleaning Buy Low, Sell High

By @kylecrusoe-captions : Untitled 4/15/23 Untitled 10/21/22 Untitled 11/24/19

By @exploratorytfs : Power Exchange Special Weekend Swap Need to Study Free Market Series: Debts, Repossession, Ladder The Swap Booth From Twink to Daddy Swap Kink Accepted On Site Family Gatherings Join Them

By @noface-phantom7 : Possession: BEyond WILLing Bodysuit: Superior Dominic Bodyswap: It Only Feels Right Bodyswap: On Second Thought Bodysuit: Skin Salesmen Demons, Suits and Faces

By @fantasyvessels Don't Waste Your Youth Or Else Project Personal Drones III

By @joshslater : Very PT The Lost Year of Gain My Bully Manhood Exchange Foreign Exchange Another Kyle Eastern Tennessee Golden Years Untitled 6/10/19 Flesh Limited Equal Exchange Partystick Urgent Message Final Answer Wanted Crossdressing

[janaispunk]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

#fic: wildest dreams #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york smut #pedrostories #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dbf!dave york

[coralinnii]

❋If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice❋ ↳ reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy aka villain/ess au part 2 feat: Jade genre: drama, partners in crimes-to-partners in love?, slow burn romance note: sequel to "being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy" Jade ver., no pronouns used for reader, some actions are ethically questionable (Jade and reader are just up to no good),

part one series masterlist

You cursed the lovey-dovey fools who drone on about the bliss of married life, fondly speaking of the joy and romance that leads to the big day and beyond. With the right person, life as someone engaged to be married would be a dream come true. 

With the right person, that is 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have that pleasure when you’re faced with the man you happened to be engaged to; the mysterious Jade Leech. 

“You seemed to be very occupied with something.” With a quizzical look, you asked the teal-haired heir as he sat at his study desk. While you exaggerated, there was a sizable amount of papers atop the merman’s desk, with names and locations you recognised as you managed to glimpse upon the reports. “Am I allowed to inquire about the mountain of reports on your desk?” 

Unperturbed, Jade gave you his well-practiced smile. “Of course, I would never hide anything from my wonderful betrothed” 

This brazen liar 

Having chosen to willingly participate in the Leech family’s goals, you were aware of their plans to monopolize the marine-related business and operations, including taking over the coastal territories from other nobles. 

Which was exactly what Jade was currently trying to do apparently, as he had his family’s men research a baron whose territory included a lively strait between this kingdom and a flourishing island nation nearby. But the baron was an incompetent leader with an unfavorable reputation amongst the merfolk and islanders due to his actions as a businessman.

“Baron Byrne seems to be causing quite an issue in his strait as the large amount of cargo ships constantly coming through the strait is disrupting the islanders’ livelihood as well as the merfolk that made the nearby reefs their home…” 

“But since he seems to have a good relationship with the prince’s new lover, his behavior is not reprimanded by the royal family,” you continued his thoughts and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s a greedy, impatient bastard but no one can stop him” 

Jade kept his courteous smile but you couldn’t imagine he was thrilled about any of this. Despite the human-merfolk peace treaty being established, the merfolk were used as the antagonists in this world so the story ignored their issues or crimes against them. 

“This was a romance webtoon, I supposed. No attention was given to the repercussions of the lives outside of the main leads” 

You looked through the reports on the baron’s family and you noticed a more detailed section on a certain person; the baron’s wife to be precise. You recognised the young woman as an admirer of Jade, recalling how envious she seems every time she looks your way. From what you knew, she married the baron for his new status as a noble but fell for Jade when she first saw him at a gathering.

“So you’re planning to go through the wife for information” you let out a noise of intrigued as you looked through the papers “you even found out where the salons and stores she frequents. That’s impressive but tell me, how do you plan to approach her?” 

“Oh my, does the notion of me meeting her upset you?” Jade reached for your hand to hold as he looked up to you from his seat, peering at you with convincing concern and acting like a worried fiancé, “I would never intend to hurt you in any way or give doubt to my devotion to you” 

“Firstly, don’t mock me by lying so blatantly” you sneered as you pulled your hand from his grasp. “Secondly, I agree that meeting the baron’s wife is the best way to find out about his weakness”

Jade raised his brow inquisitively before changing back into a look of worry, “Then what is it that causes such concern on your face, my dear?” 

Again, that fake term of endearment sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m only asking so I can act accordingly” you looked at the tall merman with mocking sweetness in your eyes. “Should I be the naive partner who knows nothing, or perhaps I’m grieving over the audacity of my dear fiancé meeting with someone other than me?” 

For a moment, you thought you saw a glint in Jade’s dual-coloured eyes before a look of amusement took over his face. He chuckled behind his gloved hand before smiling at you, his sharp teeth peeking behind his lips. “I will leave that decision to you, my dear. I’m excited to see what you’ll show me”

Weeks passed since your conversation with Jade as he quickly put his plan into motion, finding chances to meet the baroness by “coincidence” and gaining her trust immediately. You weren’t surprised how quickly Jade managed to befriend the smitten woman. If you were none the wiser, you didn’t have the confidence to say that you could withstand Jade’s good looks and charming persona either (it would be paradise in the underworld before you would ever let Jade know that, however).

Of course, meetings like these tend not to stay secret for long, especially amongst the high social circle. Many of the gossiping noblewomen whispered around about the possible tryst between the lovestruck baroness and the attractive Leech family heir. However, most of the attention fell to you as the supposed tragic lover of this “affair.” 

Being part of a well-respected family, you were ultimately the envy of certain nobles who would love nothing more than to pull you off your high horse, in sadistic glee in watching a family like yours be sullied. One of these nobles included the woman involved in the rumour herself, Baroness Byrne. 

“Please don’t misunderstand,” the baroness spoke with such fake sincerity, you almost laughed at the poor acting. “Sir Leech and I just get along so well that these rumours seemed to misconstrue our closeness” 

It’s almost insulting to think that this woman assumes that you can’t figure out that she was most likely the one to start these rumours in the first place since you knew Jade would try not to catch too much attention if the situation does not call for it. Despite being a married woman, you wondered if she’s hoping to break your engagement and take him for herself. 

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be in this nonsense” you scoffed internally but hid your thoughts with a maintained smile (Jade has given you some bad habits). “If she wants to play mind games, then let’s play~” 

“It’s quite alright, really. I’m not worried at all” you put on your best smile, a look of understanding displayed in your eyes. “In fact, I’m happy that my fiancé has made a friend like you, Baroness Byrne” 

“R-really?” The baroness stuttered which secretly delighted you. You hid your glee with a sickly sweet smile, however. 

“Of course, Jade and I tend to be quite busy since we often have to work tirelessly in maintaining our lands, assets, and the responsibilities we will inherit” you sighed as though life bears heavy on your shoulders “We spent so much time together since Jade likes to inspect every valuable item in my possession, taking in all its beauty and worth. He has quite an eye for such things, you see.”

You looked to the baroness, your gaze demanding her eyes to meet yours. Once she did, you curled your lips slightly to display just a hint of taunting smugness. “With the baroness, Jade can enjoy a simple and humble company without much to entice his personal interest.” 

One could almost see the steam escaping from the baroness’ face as she turned red with humiliated rage. With that, you decided to swiftly take your leave lest you wanted to get your eyes ripped out by a madwoman. 

After some time, you decided to make your way towards the carriage area to go home, you were shocked to see Jade standing outside alone. Once your eyes locked, he immediately made his way to you with an ever-present smile. Was he…waiting for you? 

No, that couldn’t be. 

“Jade, I assumed that you were still at the ballroom” Last you saw Jade, he was mingling with his brother Floyd and Count Azul. 

“Hmm, I was. But then, I heard some commotion amongst the ladies and decided that it’d be best to call it a night.” 

You made the right choice to leave when you did, then. You wanted to smile at the little chaos you caused but decided to stamp down that hidden glee. 

“Fair enough. That reminds me, you may be receiving an invitation from Baroness Byrne very soon, and it is in your best interest to accept it.” 

You seemed to pique Jade’s curiosity, though it seems that you always do. “Oh, and could you share the reason as to why?” 

“Because if she fell for my taunt, I would bet that she will try her best to entice you with whatever treasure or asset she can access.” You smirked, a sly glint in your eyes. “And hopefully you can convince her to show her husband’s warehouses where he stores the items the baron imports in, perhaps some hard-to-procure rarities” 

From what you see from Jade’s reports on the baron’s history, you’re betting that the greedy noble would be the type to obtain and sell anything that would bring him a fortune. With his focus on sea-related products, he might be acquiring and selling items from the merfolk community without their approval which is currently illegal with the peace treaty. Merfolk-specific products were now harder to obtain through human merchants which increased their value even more. 

“Pearls, mermaid scales, valuable minerals from the seabed…anything in the possession of a human who intends to sell them is grounds for punishment for treaty violation”

As if your minds were one, Jade was quick to realize your plans to trap the baron family. It was sneaky, dangerous, and if it works it would be ruining two people with no hope of salvaging their reputation. The baron would be stripped of his title and his merchant career while the baroness would be shamed for inviting an engaged man in an attempt to seduce him. Jade knew that you were intriguing, willing to act however necessary to protect yourself but to instigate the downfall of others, even if they were guilty of their crimes…

Jade can’t ever take his eyes off you. 

Still, he had to ask you something, “You seem to have quite the confidence in me. Do you not worry I will not live up to your expectations?” 

The teal-haired man expected a snarky quip from you or perhaps question him back over his competence. But instead, you furrowed your brows and looked at him adorably (in his perspective) with confusion. 

There was one thing you were sure of; Jade Leech would never get caught. No matter the situation, no matter the evidence, Jade will always find a way to slither his way out of trouble when he wants to. You were better off worrying about your own safety than his. 

“Why would I worry? You’ll never fail.” 

Your voice was so full of conviction, without a hint of doubt or hesitation. Jade felt a strange surge of glee upon hearing your answer. He found a compatible partner that never fails to amuse him. You brought new entertainment to his personal life. 

Jade let out a chuckle, a smile that almost seems genuine to you. The tall man looked to you, his mix-matched eyes staring with such unusual softness. Gently, he took your hand in his own so he could raise it to his lips where he then pressed a soft kiss upon your skin. In surprise, you locked gaze with Jade’s eyes as you felt warmth coursing through you though you played it off as uneasiness towards Jade’s strange actions. You continued to watch Jade as he kept his mouth barely touching your hand, but you could feel every brush of his lips as he spoke close to your fingers. “I will not disappoint you so keep your eyes on me, my dear.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #villainess au #twisted wonderland imagines #jade leech #twst jade x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x reader

[saintsenara]

What is your rationale for disagreeing with the fanon that the horcruxes affected Voldemort's sanity?

that it's literally canon that they don't!

i obviously don't have an actual problem with people using the idea that the horcruxes affect voldemort's sanity as a trope, if that's what works for their story, but what irks me is that this idea is often repeated by voldemort enjoyers as canon fact, when the impact of horcruxes on cognitive function is spelled out clearly in half-blood prince:

Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, “So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?”  “Yes, I think so,” said Dumbledore. “Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.”

in half-blood prince - as in every book prior to deathly hallows - dumbledore functions as the "word of god" character, which is to say that the information he provides us - as long as it relates neither to harry nor himself - isn't up for interpretation, it's understood within the narrative as correct. we can also be sure that he's done his research on horcruxes, knows exactly how they work, and is speaking as an expert when it comes to their impact on the mind - and we can also note that slughorn [who also seems to know what he's talking about when it comes to horcruxes and their function] doesn't mention them causing any cognitive damage when discussing them with the teenage tom riddle.

but nobody has ever made as many horcruxes as voldemort! maybe one doesn't affect the mind, but seven certainly could.

except this doesn't align at all with how the series understands the relationship between the soul and the will.

one of the central themes of the harry potter series is the value of choice. all of its main characters have narrative arcs which hinge - in some way or other - on them making a choice, very often the choice between what is right and what is easy. ron chooses to leave and then chooses to come back; hermione chooses to stay. sirius chooses to take a stand against the life his family expect of him. snape chooses to repent of his sins and work forever to atone for them. harry chooses to walk into the forest and die. lily chooses to ignore voldemort's request for her to stand aside.

all of these choices are made of the character in question's own free will - and the same applies to everything voldemort does in the series. he chooses to kill and to keep killing of his own free will, with the full capacity to understand his actions, and he refuses, right until the very end, to show the slightest bit of remorse for what he's done - and it is this, in the narrative's view, which makes his behaviour so heinous and which causes his behaviour to have such an impact on the state of his soul.

if we assume that voldemort's grasp on rationality declines with the number of horcruxes he makes, we are also assuming that his capacity to understand the full wickedness of his actions also declines - but his motivation for killing myrtle to make a horcrux and his motivation for killing frank bryce to make a horcrux are exactly the same: he wants to, and he doesn't give a solitary fuck about the life he's just taken.

and this stands in contrast to something else we see in canon - the idea that killing does not automatically have an impact on the soul:

“And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?” “You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation,” said Dumbledore.

this - the set-up to snape's mercy-killing of dumbledore - suggests that your soul is not harmed if you know without question that the death you cause is justified.

snape kills dumbledore of his own free will, but this suggestion also implies that it would be perfectly possible for the soul to remain unharmed if a killer was understood to be non compos mentis. that is, if someone lacked the capacity to understand their actions were not justified, then their soul would see them as "not guilty by reason of insanity" and not splinter.

voldemort's ability to make so many horcruxes in the first place, then, must depend on his capacity to understand exactly what he's doing - to know he could choose not to kill and then still do it anyway.

and we do actually see in canon that - while he's shown to be someone who kills with the slightest provocation in the films - the voldemort of the books is clinical and methodical in his violence:

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face: Then the child turned and ran away... Beneath the robe he fingered the handle of his wand... One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother... but unnecessary, quite unnecessary...

the canonical voldemort's known kill count is actually surprisingly low, and each of his victims is clearly selected with a rational [in the "does he have a disorder of thought?" sense, not in the "is this morally justifiable?" sense] motivation driving his decision to attack them - even if his actions are also affected by an emotional trigger [he does not, for example, kill his father or massacre the goblins who tell him that the cup was stolen for reasons which are irrational or delusional - incandescent fury or fear that your secret is out are not insanity].

voldemort kills and makes his horcruxes out of choice, and the series is clear that his capacity to understand that choice does not degrade across the course of his life.

ok, but you have to admit that he's definitely not... all there, personality wise...

sure. but i don't think this has anything to do with the horcruxes...

the idea that voldemort runs around shrieking and cackling to himself is an invention of the films. the canonical voldemort is shown to be lucid and thoughtful even in deathly hallows, he remains a formidable strategist right up until the end - and i think it's also worth noting that the films really gloss over just how successful his takeover of the government is - and his prodigious intellect and magical talent are acknowledged by the order throughout the series.

his more volatile personality traits - his fondness for monologuing, his rapid switching between being superficially charming and feral, his tendency to get lost in his own obsessions, his emotional brittleness - are all ones the eleven-year-old riddle is shown to possess, and i think it's much more interesting to explore the idea that they remain aspects of the person he once was which the adult voldemort cannot hide behind the mask he has constructed.

but - yes - its certainly true that the resurrected voldemort of order of the phoenix onwards is more paranoid, harder to soothe, crueller to his death eaters, more inflexible in his thinking and so on than he is implied to have been in the 1970s, and so i understand why many readers interpret this as evidence that his last two horcruxes [harry and nagini] - plus the arcane horror of his resurrection ritual - might have sent him round the bend.

but i think that the implication of canon is that this behaviour has much more mundane causes.

in october 1981, all the evidence we have is that voldemort is about to win. he is an unassailable terrorist kingpin with an army of highly-trained, highly loyal minions and - we can assume - widespread popular support.

and then only four of these supporters try to find him.

it's clear - as we can tell from the fact that barty crouch jr. is so shocked to discover that he didn't massacre the reassembled death eaters where they stood - that voldemort is livid that none of his "loyal" servants came to rescue him from the tree in albania his soul piece was hiding in, choosing instead to pretend they were under the imperius curse and that they'd never have been seen dead supporting him had they been in their right minds. it's also clear that he has no choice but to welcome these death eaters back to the fold once he's resurrected because he'd have no core supporters otherwise.

but it's also clear that he doesn't trust any of them one single bit once their commitment is proven to be so fragile - and that it is this, this evidence that he's just a human being with human feelings, rather than a creature of pure magic whose mind has been warped by that magic, which provides a much, much more interesting explanation for his increasing volatility as the war draws to its conclusion.

voldemort is at his most interesting - in my opinion - when his humanity [and his failure to outrun it] is foregrounded. this isn't incompatible with his creation of the horcruxes at all. but it is, i think, incompatible with the idea that they warp his mind.

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Bluey's The Sign

Bluey is still great and I don't need to go into why again. What's most important is that even in such short time of knowing this cartoon, you can see the growth of it all. Joe and the crew share how the world of the Heeler family gets to learn, adapt, and grow without rapidly warping the status quo. You go through and see how everyone is able to work through rough and weird times with sincere maturity. Season 3's Finale is where this all comes to a head and it's as beautiful as I expected, MORESO.

Brandi got to be happy would've been enough for me

The Sign deals with the idea of hard ideas. Those hard ideas that aren't inherently about change, but issues that when faced with initially, it feels like a bad ending. A bad ending which can't be easily fixed and you don't know where to go from there, and it hurts. It hurts when hard ideas swoop in, ruins your mood, festers your mind, and leaves you aimless. Bluey shows that it happens, this is the rare time where a ton of crap hits the fan in one day and it's not something Chili or Bandit or any adult can fix right away. I've never experienced this, but I felt the pain Bluey, Bingo, Frisky, and Chili went through where they're bargaining, burying, and avoiding confronting a potential reality they didn't want. This is where the real hero of the special comes in...

Haven't said before, but Calypso is a masterful teacher

The parable of the farmer works as an incredible seedling thought for Bluey when she reveals her moving. It's not a story I ever heard, but known the message all too well. The message of not just accepting bad things that happen to you, but know that it'll never be the end of the world because of them. Don't think of it as deep, but a natural motif to grow with. This is where a debacle regarding the episode churns with me. It can seem like a cop-out that every character gets what they wanted by the end, as I said before the cartoon can be more idealistic than what our real life allows. Then again, the true beauty of Bluey I believe has always been if it's possible, the family will find a way and do it responsibly.

If happiness can be achieved, they'll know how to get it

Beyond all this, the special is great. They waste no minute here in art and storytelling, and as said before, it's like Smash Bros Ultimate where everything is here. There are great callbacks to episodes you probably wouldn't have thought about, on top of getting to see the whole Heeler family on Chili and Bandit's sides like that blew my mind. Plus I love seeing weddings, dude, like I wish I was there with them. The feels are tsunami-ous like it's unfair to say this is the all-time best episode of the show, but darn if it wouldn't be earned.

When else will I see the epicness of riding shotgun?

But to conclude, it's been said that after this the Ludo crew will take a indefinite hiatus from Bluey the series, especially when they have a new project underway. And honestly? I'm more than satisfied. The show could've ended here and I would've been somewhat at peace with them giving us this beautiful episode. I of course didn't get into this series since its beginning, but I came around the right time to enjoy it myself, to see others recognize its greatness, and to finally make it here. It's great to know this was only another chapter in the book, and I'll see to be around when it gets to come back. As for The Sign? What else is there to say?

It was Beautiful. Cheers to the crew for everything.

#Bluey #bluey cartoon #bluey the sign #the sign #cartoons #reviews #Good Stuff #long post

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fanfic #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #tw stockholm syndrome #tw death mention #tw dead body #tw suggestive #tw child murder #tw sui talk #tw arguing #tw body horror #tw g0re #tw grief #tw sucidal ideation #tw pregnancy #tw postpartum depression #tw graphic #tw blood #tw death #tw dubcon #tw noncon

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon Chapter 1

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it. 

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next. 

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart. 

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down. 

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her. 

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him. 

But this? 

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband. 

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived. 

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.  

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her. 

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone. 

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces. 

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her. 

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter. 

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth. 

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria. 

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra. 

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed. 

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall. 

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce. 

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful. 

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

[atths--twice]

It’s Scully’s sixtieth birthday today. A time for family and spending the day together. ❤️

February 23, 2024

8:45 p.m.

Scully smiled as she looked at the pictures held on the Skinner and Rachel’s fridge by an assortment of magnets.

There were ones of only Rachel and Skinner, the twins together and separate, the whole family in different locations, and many with the twins and Faith as they cheesed for the camera or were taken in candid. There was even a more recent one with all of them from Halloween, held in a border Faith had made out of popsicle sticks and decorated with Halloween stickers.

Scully shook her head as she traced her finger over Faith’s face in her favorite picture. Jacob and Elizabeth were sitting on a bedding of straw, within the petting zoo they had visited last August, each holding a bunny on their laps. They were grinning from ear to ear and beside them was Faith, smiling at them.

When Rachel had shown Scully the picture, they had both proclaimed how cute it was and how grown up Faith looked as she looked on at her “babies.” Rachel had immediately sent it to Scully and she had made copies of them on her way home the next day, placing a framed picture in Faith’s room and one in her office, both at home and at work.

Since then many things had changed, but that picture, keeping them frozen in that moment, was and always would be one of her favorites.

“Hey,” Mulder said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Hey,” she said back, smiling at him as she moved out of his way, allowing him to open the fridge and take out two beers.

“You ready for this?” he asked, picking up the bottle opener to open the beers.

“Yeah,” she laughed with a nod.

“I don’t know if I am. I feel like this could be bad. I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling at him. “You are good at it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his arms going around her, the two beers still held in his hands. “I just don’t know. I want to do it right and I’m not sure I’ll do you justice.”

“Just take your time and do the best you can,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “What do you always say to Faith? Try and then try again?”

“And if all else fails, chuck the fucker out the window?” he suggested and she laughed.

“Don’t remember ever hearing that part.”

“Because it’s internal. But trust me, it’s always there.”

She laughed again and he smiled at her before he leaned his head down and kissed her.

“So you did get the beers,” Skinner said, interrupting them. “They just haven’t made their way to the table yet.”

“Sorry, man,” Mulder said, turning them so he could hand Skinner his beer. “I got distracted by this smoking hot woman.”

“God,” Skinner said, shaking his head and taking a drink of his beer.

“Are you going to deny that she’s smoking hot? Today of all days?” Mulder asked incredulously as Scully stepped back with a laugh. “Look at her.”

“Mulder, stop it,” she said, shaking her head.

“No. It’s impossible. You’re hot. It’s the truth.”

“Who’s hot?” Rachel asked as she came into the room, smiling at them and taking Skinner’s beer from him.

“Hey,” he protested and she winked as she took a sip.

“I was saying that my wife, who is celebrating her sixtieth rotation around the sun-”

“More like accepting it,” Scully said with a small sigh as Rachel smiled at her.

“Celebrating,” Mulder insisted, looking at her pointedly and she nodded, scrunching her chin as she put an arm around his waist. “As amazing as ever and definitely still smoking hot.”

“Hear! Hear!,” Rachel agreed, raising the bottle in the air. Skinner looked at her and she looked back, her eyebrows raised. “Yeah, she’s hot. Deal with it.” Mulder and Scully laughed and Skinner gave Rachel a crooked smile, before kissing her softly.

“And so are you,” he said and Rachel pulled away.

“So you do think she’s hot?!” Rachel said, shaking her head and scoffing loudly as Scully laughed again.

“You… they…” Skinner stammered, looking around at each of them.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you get flustered,” Rachel laughed, putting the beer down and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said gruffly, even as he pulled her close. She smiled as she reached up to kiss him, then whispered something that made him laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mulder glanced at Scully and she shrugged with a smile as she turned her attention back to Rachel and Skinner. He caught her eye and smiled.

“I’ve been given permission to state once a year that you are a…” he said, pausing when Rachel covered his ear and whispered something into it. “Babe...”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about!” Mulder stated in mock outrage. “How dare you!”

“I was talking to my wife,” Skinner said, as Rachel dissolved into laughter. “I didn’t mean-”

“Sure you didn’t,” Mulder said, shaking his head and sighing loudly.

“Jesus Christ,” Skinner murmured, picking up the beer and draining half the bottle. “Can we just…?”

“Move on?” Scully asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, please,” Skinner sighed with a nod. “I’ll grab another beer and meet you out there.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, winking at Scully as she turned to leave the kitchen. Scully caught up to her and put her arm around her waist.

“He’s so easy,” Scully said.

“Oh my God, babe. I know,” Rachel said and they both cackled as they walked out of the room.

They stopped at the long dining room table and Scully smiled at the items that had been set upon it.

“I’m really excited to do this,” Rachel said and Scully nodded, also feeling a sense of excitement.

Mulder and Skinner came into the room and they also stopped at the table.

“Okay, let’s take a seat,” Rachel said, clapping her hands and grinning at them. “Across from each other, so you’re facing your partner.”

Mulder hummed and brushed Scully’s back with his fingers as he passed her and went to sit on the side closest to the window. Skinner sat beside him and then Scully sat across from Mulder.

“Alright,” Rachel said. “So when I was younger, the birthday person always got to pick the activities for the day, what they wanted for dinner, and their cake. I’d say that aside from this particular activity, you’ve gotten all three today, Dana.” She smiled at Scully and she smiled back with a nod.

“Although,” Scully said, staring at the blank canvas on the small tabletop easel in front of her. “While it may not have been something I thought to do, I love the idea and I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m so glad,” Rachel said, beaming as she looked at Scully. “I know I’ve sent you many videos of people doing this recently. Enjoying the company of your partner, while painting their portrait.” She gestured to the paints, paintbrushes, pencils, and pens on the table.

“Right,” Mulder agreed, staring at his own canvas, and then looking up at Scully as though studying her. She smiled and picked up a pencil, intent on sketching him first.

“Before we start, I have one request,” Rachel said, letting out a deep breath. “Take your time and make an effort. I really don’t think I need to tell the two of you.” She looked at Skinner and Mulder, smiling softly. “It’s just that… the mass amount of videos I’ve seen of people revealing their finished product, it seems like the women try harder or make more of an effort to make it good. Maybe the men have done their best, but sometimes it seems like they took it as an opportunity to paint their partner with comical features. Then, because of their actions, and the fact that it’s easier to join in on the laughter than be on the outside of it, their partner has to behave like it’s funnier than it is, while perhaps leaving them feeling… less than happy or not as loved.”

“Honey,” Skinner said quietly, shaking his head.

“I know, I know,” Rachel said, putting her hands up and shrugging. “I just…”

“Take our time,” Skinner said, smiling at her and she smiled back with a small nod.

Scully watched them, smiling when Rachel stepped closer and kissed him, before taking her place beside her.

“Okay,” Rachel said, turning on some music, though the volume stayed low, considering the sleeping children upstairs. Raising her glass of wine next to her easel, she exhaled with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

They all clinked their glasses or bottles and began to create a drawing of their partner, just like the videos Rachel had shown them over the past few days.

Two hours later, all of them slightly tipsy, it was time to reveal their paintings.

Scully had done as Rachel suggested and taken her time. Sketching Mulder, looking at him in a different light, she had focused on the varying shades of color in his hair, the close trim of his beard, his smile, and the lines around his eyes and on his forehead, especially when he concentrated.

Sometimes, especially recently, she caught him staring at those lines in the bathroom mirror. He would sigh as he touched them, no doubt feeling it made him appear older, but she loved every one of them. They were part of him and his journey in life, of which she had been an active and close participant, and she would not remove them even if she had the chance.

Adding a few final touches, she set down her paintbrush and looked at him with a smile. He was staring at his canvas closely and then pulling back with a frown and tilt of his head.

After doing this a few times, he glanced up and saw her looking at him. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she only smiled and shrugged her shoulders, not saying anything.

His foot then found hers under the table and he tapped against it once, a silent question. She tapped back three times, their code for I love you. When he tapped back four times, I love you too, she grinned as she remembered when the fourth tap or squeeze had been implemented.

“It should be four squeezes when you do it back,” Faith had said, squeezing both of their hands as they sat on the couch one night. “Because three is I love you, so four should be I love you… too!”

She had demonstrated it, squeezing their hands three times and then waiting for them to respond back with four squeezes. When they had, she grinned, as pleased as could be.

“Okay!” Rachel said, pausing the music and looking at Scully. “You’re the birthday… hottie-”

“Oh, now don’t start that again,” Skinner groaned and they all laughed.

“You go first, Dana,” Rachel said, winking at Skinner who rolled his eyes as he smiled at her.

“Okay,” Scully said, sitting up straight and letting out a breath. “Wow, this makes me feel slightly nervous. Okay, here we go.” She looked at Mulder and he grinned. “Close your eyes.”

He did as she asked as she picked up her canvas, turning it around for him to see.

“Huh,” Skinner said and then closed his mouth, glancing quickly at Scully in apology. She smiled as she shook her head, her heart beating faster as she wondered what that sound had meant.

“Can I open my eyes?” Mulder asked and Scully chuckled softly.

“Yes,” she whispered and he opened his eyes.

“Wow,” he said, leaning forward. “Wow, hon. You did an amazing job. That… wow.”

��Wow? That’s the best you got?” she teased and he laughed softly.

“It’s… can I hold it?”

She nodded and they both leaned forward, him taking the canvas and holding it as she leaned back, watching his face. He smiled as he looked over the whole thing, touching his beard and then his hair. His smile faded a bit as he ran his fingers over his forehead, touching the lines that lay there. He sighed and then looked up at her.

“It’s beautiful. You captured everything so perfectly. Lovingly.”

“That couldn’t possibly be because I love you now, could it?” she asked, smiling as she picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

“Possibly,” he agreed, looking down at the painting again.

“Can I see mine now?” she asked and he raised his head, worry in his eyes.

“I don’t think I did the same justice that you’ve done for me. I don’t know that…”

“Come on, man,” Skinner said, shaking his head and then gesturing to Mulder’s painting with his chin. “Show her.”

Mulder nodded and set her painting down before picking up his own.

“Close your eyes,” Mulder said and she did, swallowing hard, suddenly very nervous.

“Oh!” Rachel said, inhaling sharply.

“Open them.”

Scully opened her eyes and then gasped, her eyes lifting to his.

“Didn’t do me justice? Mulder, it’s so beautiful. Can I have it?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he leaned forward and handed it to her.

He had painted a faint forest green background with small yellow dots near the top, symbolizing stars. Smiling back at her, he had captured her face nearly identical to how she had captured his.

There were lines etched within, where there had not been any when they first met. Her eyes were the exact shade as her own and she sighed as she stared into them. Her hair, lighter and longer than it had been when they had begun their journey together, lay across one shoulder with pieces of it coming loose onto the other side.

“It’s…” she said, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She looked up at him and he nodded with a smile.

“You’re welcome, love.”

He tapped her foot three times and as she tapped back four, he grinned and winked at her.

“It’s really good, Fox,” Rachel said, leaning toward Scully to look at it closer.

“Thank you,” he said, tapping a random pattern gently against Scully’s foot.

“Alright, who’s next?” Skinner asked gruffly. “You want to go first, honey?”

“Okay!” Rachel said, sitting up and smiling as she let out a breath. “You don’t need to close your eyes, though. I want to see your real time reaction.”

“Why does that make me nervous?” he asked and she laughed as she picked up her canvas and turned it around. “Oh, Rach… that’s…” He laughed and reached for it as Rachel smiled.

“Oh. That’s a big, bald, beautiful man,” Mulder said, looking at it and then Rachel. She and Scully laughed, both for different reasons, and Skinner shot him a look.

“Shut up,” he said and then turned his attention to Rachel. “It’s perfect. You did a really great job, honey.” He turned it around to show Scully, though she had already seen it as Rachel was working on it.

His face was painted against a dark blue background. The brown of his eyes and the salt and pepper of his beard had been captured to a T. He had a small smile and Scully smiled at the sight of it.

“It’s you. Perfectly you.” She smiled at Rachel and she bowed her head in thanks.

“I’m up,” Skinner said and Mulder tapped Scully’s foot. She looked at him and he widened his eyes.

Hmmm… what does that mean? she thought.

Skinner set Rachel’s drawing down and reached for his own. He looked at her and smiled as he picked it up and turned it around.

Both she and Scully gasped, Rachel’s hand going to her throat.

“Walter,” she breathed. “I… oh my God.” He handed it to her and Scully leaned closer, her mouth slightly agape.

It was stunning to say the least. He had drawn and then painted Rachel as well as any artist ever could. He captured the blue of her eyes, the light within them, and her smile so perfectly, it was like looking at a photograph.

“I can’t believe this,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “She’s so beautiful.”

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” Skinner said with a soft chuckle. “Don’t I always tell you that?”

“Yeah, but…” She shrugged and wiped her eyes as she shook her head again. Scully rubbed her back as Rachel drew in a deep breath.

“I think I’ve been ousted as the hottie. And on my birthday too,” Scully said and everyone laughed, Rachel’s ending on a small sob.

“I love this so much,” she said, looking at Skinner. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re more than welcome, honey,” Skinner said and Rachel nodded.

Mulder tapped Scully’s foot again and she nodded as she glanced at him.

“Who knew lying below that gruff exterior all these years, there lay the heart of such an artist?” Scully said, smiling at him. “It’s truly beautiful, Walter.”

“Thank you, Dana,” he said. “It’s hard for it not to be when such beauty is there to inspire me.”

“Okay, that’s enough flattery,” Rachel said, and Mulder and Scully both laughed. “But rest assured that anytime the twins need help with school art projects or to sculpt something out of clay, they’ll be heading your way.”

“I think I can handle that,” he said and they all laughed again.

They cleaned up, clearing away the paints and rinsing out the paintbrushes, laughing as they finished their drinks and each couple shared another slice of cake.

Rachel set the canvases on the stands on the table and took pictures of them, smiling as she then sent them in a text message.

“Thank you all for going along with this crazy idea.”

“Crazy? Nah,” Mulder said, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing. “It was a wonderful idea and turned out very well.”

“Thank you, Fox.”

Squeezing her shoulders again, he dropped his arm and walked over to Scully.

“A good ending to a good day?” he asked, taking her hands in his.

“Yes. Undoubtedly.”

“Good,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her softly. “Sixty looks good on you, babe.”

She wanted to protest, to make a flippant comment, but then her eyes fell on his painting of her and she saw what he saw. Smiling, she nodded and looked back at him.

“Yeah. I think it does.”

In the morning, when Faith and the twins saw the paintings on the table, they oohed and awed over them, claiming them beautiful and handsome.

“I want to paint a picture,” Faith said, looking at Skinner. “Can I paint Jacob and Liz Beth, Unco? And then they can paint me? If you help them, they can do it. I know they can.”

“God, you are just…” He kissed the top of her head and then whispered something in her ear. Her eyes lit up and she ran to Rachel and hugged her around the waist.

“Thank you, Raycho!” she shouted and then ran towards Rachel’s office, returning quickly with a wrapped package of blank canvases, though smaller than the ones they had used the previous evening.

“Always gotta be one step ahead of them,” Rachel said and Scully laughed in agreement.

Before the day was over, Faith had painted portraits of everyone, including Bella who had joined the sleepover, lying on her large bed that was placed beside her beloved Faith.

Jacob and Elizabeth painted for a bit, but then became bored and returned to their toys.

Skinner was asked to paint the picture of Faith, taking time to sketch her out before adding the paint.

“Unco,” Faith breathed when he showed her the final result. “It’s so beautiful. You did it so amazing. You’re a good drawing person.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” he said, laughing softly and kissing her forehead.

When they left, Faith held her portrait in her lap the whole way home, telling them about what she liked best about it.

Finding some nails and a hammer, they let Faith direct them on where the portraits she had painted should go, Scully hanging hers and Mulder’s side by side in her office.

The portrait Skinner had painted of Faith, did not get hung up. Not right away.

Instead, it lay on her pillow when she went to bed, joined her at the breakfast table, and was back in the bed at bedtime.

“He made it so good, Mama,” Faith said, yawning as she turned over to look at it. “I love it. Goodnight. I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, love. Sweet dreams.” She kissed Faith’s sweet smelling hair and smiled at the painting.

Faith’s face was painted before a light lavender background. Her long brown hair was down and laying over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were alight with happiness and just a hint of mischief. She smiled with her perfect baby teeth showing. The little freckles that were beginning to appear had been added and Scully loved those most of all, as she had learned over the years to love her own many freckles.

Yes, she thought, looking at the painting once again and then smoothing Faith’s hair back to look at the aforementioned freckles. He captured her perfectly.

Kissing her once more, Scully turned out the bedside light and turned on the fox nightlight.

Closing the door softly behind her, she smiled at the gallery of pictures Faith had painted that hung on the wall by the stairs. Every one of them was there, and even the extra ones Faith had insisted she paint, of Grey and the fish, not wanting anyone to be left out.

Touching the portrait of her that Faith had painted, her love held within every stroke, Scully smiled.

“I think I’m going to like being sixty,” she whispered.

“Scully?” Mulder called and she nodded.

“Be there in a sec, hon,” she called back quietly before kissing her fingers and touching them to Faith’s painting.

Yeah, she thought as she continued down the stairs. I think sixty agrees with me.

#xf fanfic #the x files #msr #love #happy #family #family life: the story beyond the series #birthday #birthday fluff #painting #domestic #domestic fluff #talking and laughing #drinking #sharing moments together #fluff and humor

[hoe4sports]

“You look like me”

Jenni Hermoso x Caroline Graham Hansen (Child reader)

A/N: This was shit, I might redo this later. Also Jenni never left Barca. This is a series. Spanish is always google translate. No triggers.

Summary: You and Caro go on an adventure. You cross paths with an older lady, and your two mama’s are taking steps in their relationship.

Mami was desperately trying to get you ready for the day, but you couldn’t sit still. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement as you waited for Caroline. Caroline had promised you to take you to the toy store and the local ice cream shop without mami, and you were beyond excited. It was almost like the things Mami and Caroline did! “Princesa, you have to try to sit still” Mami sighted as she tried to brush your long hair for the 10th time. “Lo siento, Mami, I’m just happy” you sang as your little legs dangled from the chair that Mami had placed in the bathroom for you to sit on. Your hands touched the skirt of your dress, it was pink, glittery and had sequins; all the things that together made the recipe of a very happy little girl. “And done! What do you think, amor?” Mami said as she held your hands to stand up infront of the mirror. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened. “Wow! Mami! Es fantástico!” You said as your touched your little half updo with the pink elastics. “Es perfecta” you say as your eyes is entranced in your reflection. “You are my favourite girl in the world, amor, mami loves you so so much” Mami said as she picked you up and held you tight to her chest. She would do that from time to time, holding you close for a little while without saying a word. This had happened for the first time the morning she had woken up to your screams as a new born, her wife nowhere to be seen only to pick you up as she found a note downstairs saying family life wasn’t for her wife. That was when she stopped caring about girls and drinks and parties; life was only about her little girl now. Her world withing her hands.

You breathed in mami’s familiar scent and listened to her heart beat only to be disrupted by the sound of someone entering downstairs. “Jenni, Lillevenn! I’m here!” She called as you shot your head up to look at Mami. “Mami, Mami! Es Caroline!” You said as you wiggled loose and bolted towards the hall and the stairway. You giggled as you ran, your hair flying in the wind and your giggles roaming around the hall. “Mamma, mamma!” You yelled as you jumped down the stairs and straight into Caroline’s arms. The words mamma meant so much to her. She didn’t ever imagine wanting kids, but when she met Jenni; she had fallen in love with both her and you. Mami just didn’t know it yet. Caroline had helped raise you, and it felt natural and completely platonic to call her mamma. That was what she called someone in norway that would read her bedtime stories, take her to football and give her kisses, and that had to be a good thing. You jumped into Caroline’s arms and looked up at her. “I’m excited” you said with a shyness in your voice. “Well, I am excited to spend time with my favourite girl in the whole world!” Caroline exclaimed while stroking your hair gently as she smiled down to you. “Let’s go to the car, si?” Caroline said as you took her head and walked out, Mami following close behind. “I’m just gonna take out her car seat, it’s pretty eas-“ mami begun as she unlocked your big suv Lexus. “No need” Caroline said as she opened up the backseat door to her car. “Caroline, she needs a carse-“ Mami said as she shook her head slightly scared. “Wow! A seat! For me? Pink mami, it’s pink” you squealed as you looked at the car seat in the back of Caroline’s car and jumped up into it. “I love it mami!” You said as you slipped into it and giggled. “A special seat for a special girl” Caroline said as she smirked and looked at Jenni. “Caroline, you are absolutely spoiling her. You didn’t have too! I could get one for your car” Mami said as she crossed her arms and looked at Caroline. Caroline was busy buckling you in, and when the belt snapped together like it was supposed to; she turned around to look at Mami. “I’m in this for the long haul”

—-

“And here we are lille prinsesse, are you ready?» Caroline said as you pulled up to the toy store. It was huge. It had pretty lights and so many colors. You could see huge toy sculptures in the front of the store. It looked magical. It was fantastic! “Yes mamma! It has pretty lights” you said as you beamed in the car seat. Caroline smiled while looking at you in the rear view mirror and unbuckled herself before getting out and helping you out. She loosened the buckle and reached for your hand as you jumped down, your little sandals with blinkers going crazy. You walked together towards the store, which was huge in comparison to your 3,5 year old frame. Your hand grabbed Caroline’s extra tight when you entered through the entrance, and she looked down on you comfortably. “Carry me?” You said as you bit your lip, a bit overstimulated with the whole situation. Just like a mother would, Caroline immediately picked you up and placed you on her hip. When she held you, nothing felt scary anymore. It was safe. Warm. And familiar.

“Wow, look at mirabell!” You squealed as you saw mirabell from Encanto. Caroline smiled and looked at the direction you were pointing towards. Together you walked through endless oceans of bouncy balls, Barbies, baby born, cars, swords, game and little houses with little people in. As she walked around carrying you tightly, scared to death of losing the most important thing in her life; your eyes caught a familiar doll. “Mamma, mamma! It’s Elsa and Anna! From Arendelle!” You shouted as you wiggled down from her grip and bolted towards the big isle of toys. “Woah” you said as your eyes were sparkling while looking up at all the boxes. “Is this what you want prinsesse?» she said as she looked at the big selection of toys. You nodded as you were still in awe. “Can I have the set? With Elsa and Anna and Sven and Olaf and Kristoff” you asked as you were staring at the big box of figurines. “Of course, you can get anything you want skatt» she said reassuringly. She reached for the box that was high up on a shelf before you headed towards the exit to pay. She carried you out to the car, and got you all buckled in; safe and sound before heading towards the ice cream shop.

You were skipping next to her when she pointed to the ice cream shop. “Look lillevenn, there it is!” She said as she looked down on you. You giggled and jumped with joy as you pulled her along as fast as you could possibly move. The bell of the door rang when you entered the shop. It was bright and colorful with sprinkles on the walls. It had nice happy music and the smell was magical. It smelled like a strawberry soft serve with strawberry sauce and fresh cut strawberry. Your feet felt energised as you looked over all the flavours in the display. Caroline picked you up so you could see the ice cream. “Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, banana, orange..Bubblebum!” You say as you point to each flavor. “You are so so smart prinsesse, you impress me every day. Now, do you know what flavour you want?” She said as she looks at you with awe. “Yes, mamma, si! I do know!” You squeal as you are being called to the front desk to order. “Hola princesa! Qué te gustaría pedir?” The older woman says making you giggle. Mami has made sure to speak both Spanish and English, just in case you were to move abroad making the transition easier. “Por favor, ¿puedo tomar helado de fresa?” You say as you smile towards the woman while pointing towards the pink mixture still safe on Caroline’s hip. “Por supuesto! quiere algo señora?» the woman says as her hand is scribbling quick. “helado de chocolate por favor” Caroline responds as the lady gestures for Caroline to pay and she taps her debitcard on the machine.

“Mamma, I love strawberry ice cream, thank you so so much!” You squeal as you dip your spoon into the pink ice cream happy as ever. "Taste mamma!" you say as you shove the spoon into Caroline's face who willingly leta you. "mmmm, it's very good skqtt" she says as she carefully wipes your face on the napkin. “Taste? Pleeeeease” you say as you give her your best puppy eyes. Caroline laughs as she strokes your cheek before offering you a taste of her chocolate ice cream. “Mmm, mamma, gracias, it’s yummy” you say as you lick your lips. An older mysterious woman drops her bag forcing all her coins to fall out of her grip. Your eyes widen as you let out a shocked sound before you wiggle down and start picking up all the coins. You look over at the woman as you hand her the coins and she smiles warmly to you. “Thank you princesa” she says as she touches your hand. Caroline instinctively has a hand on your shoulder and decides to pick you up feeling like you are safest on her hip. “Are you her mom? You look so alike. You have raised a very empathetic young woman.” She says just as she walks out of the shop with her bag. You look up at Caroline who kisses your head. “Let’s go home to mami.”

As you pull up to the driveway, you hold your newest addition to your toy collection close to your chest. Then you can see Jenni come out of the house waving at the car. She’s just standing in her slippers which you find silly so you let out a giggle. Mami opens up the door of your side of the car. “Princesa! I have missed you so much! How was your adventure?” She asks as she unbuckles you while you hold the box in her face. “Mami, Caroline gave me Elsa and Anna and Sven and Olaf and kristoff! From frozen” you say as you squeal. “Wow, aren’t you so lucky?” Mami said as she picks you up and holds you close. The familiarity of mami’s heartbeat and warmth is enough to make you feel so sleepy. You yawn as you lean towards her, taking in the familiar comforting scent that you love so much. At night when you were to sleep in your own bed, you would make sure to have mami’s shirt with you so you could feel comforted if you woke up in the middle of the night. “Are you tired, amor?” Mami says as you nod. Mami carries you inside and Caroline follows quickly behind. “I’m just gonna put her down for a nap, Caz. Feel like home” Jenni says as Caroline nods and puts down her jacket on the counter. Mami starts to walk up the stairs as you say “mamma also put me to bed”. Jenni looks at Caroline and gestures for her to join. Eventually, Mami sits at the edge of your bed while Caroline sits at the little lounge chair next to your bed. “Me look like mamma” you say as you yawn again while mr.sleep is knocking on your eyelids. Caroline blushes as Jenni smiles “Do you think you look like Mamma?” You nod as you close your eyes and pull your polar bear close. “She does, dosent she?” Jenni says as she tucks your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know, she looks like you” Caroline says as she tries to move to conversation forwards. “No, Caz. She does look like you. I can tell that she loves you like she loves me. And I know that you love her as your own.” Jenni continues as she tucks you in with your favourite pink fuzzy blanket. You suddenly say “we a family; mami, mamma and me.” As you drift further and further away from the situation while imagining Olaf eating big strawberries in Arendelle where Mamma is from. Jenni and Caroline stands close in your doorway as the shadow of their frames are standing close together. “I would love to be a family” Mami says as you drift complete off.

#woso imagine #caroline graham hansen #caroline graham hansen imagine #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso imagine #woso x reader

[icyg4l]

Pick-A-Girl Group: What Purpose Do the Women In Your Life Serve?

Continuing on with my Women’s History Month series, I am going to do a reading on how the women in your life feel about you and the effect of these feelings. I am going to be using the True Heart Tarot Deck and the Archetype Oracle Deck. These readings are supposed to uplift, relate to and inspire women so I hope they serve their purpose. I Without further ado, please pick your pile. 🫶

***Disclaimer: Regardless of your gender identity, the women that are in your life deserve to be celebrated as long as they have pure intentions. Much love. 🩷

Left-to-Right (1-4):

Pile One: If you resonate with the image of FLO, then you deserve the whole fucking world. Pile One, the women in your life absolutely adore you. You probably resonate with the song’s theme: recognizing beauty in yourself when everyone is against you, specifically as a black woman. You have come such a long way. The women that are currently in your life have seen you make mistakes and allowed you to do so. They recognize your evolution. A lot of you have a best friend who you’ve been friends with for a long time and she is so proud of you. She is proud of the person that you have become. This pile has some cheerleaders around them. I feel like the women in your life are meant to take inspiration from what you are going through right now. I think that you may be going through your redemption arc.You’re forgiving yourself for a lot of things that you’ve done in the past. The women in your life see that and are following suit. After all, living life does mean not being a robot. These women who are around you are all ears, very receptive to what it is that you are doing with your life. You’re like their Oprah, lol. If you have a story to tell, share it with her. She may need to hear it. I channeled the show: Beyond Scared Straight; specifically the parts where the prisoners talk to the kids about their life stories and the reasoning for why they should not end up in jail. I feel like you could be someone’s mentor, whether they’re younger or the same age as you, perhaps even older. You are someone’s Reesa Teesa too, lol. I get the feeling that you need to be talking about yourself, Pile One. There is an audience full of women who are willing to hear you out and listen. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others/Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people 

Mother: Nurturance, patience, unconditional love. Joy in giving birth to life/Smothering or abandoning children. Instilling guilt in children for becoming independent.

Poet: Expresses soul insights in symbolic language/Turns a lyric gift to negative or destructive effect. 

Cards Used: 2 of Swords, 4 of Discs, 9 of Cups, Prince of Wands (RX), King of Discs, Four of Cups, Temperance.

Pile Two: If you resonate with the photo of Destiny’s Child, you got some ride or dies around you for real. I think that you’ve been through hell and back with the women in your life and they do not play about you. I think the women in your life want you to know that you are so worth it. I’m not going to lie Pile Two, it sounds like you’re in a toxic love situation and your girls want you out of it. Your friends, cousin or little sister could have told you that you need to exit stage left multiple times. They absolutely believe you deserve better. Hypothetically speaking, If y’all fell out today and an emergency happened tomorrow, they would be on the way to the hospital. I feel like family is so important to you. They feel like you’ve forgot about them but I don’t think that you have. Circumstances make it difficult for you all to see eye-to-eye. The women in your life want you to know that you are not alone. They will forever be there for you no matter what, even if you have lost your damn mind. These challenging times will make the bond between you and these women stronger. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Artist: Expressing a dimension of life that is beyond the five senses. Inspiring others to see life symbolically / Using talent as an excuse to mistreat others. Posing as the Starving Artist to elicit pity.

God:  Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others / Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people 

Goddess: The feminine expressed through wisdom. Nature, life force, and sensuality / Exploitation of the female nature and form 

Cards Used: Ace of Discs, 9 of Swords, Princess of Cups (RX), Prince of Discs, The Hierophant, Princess of Discs, 4 of Cups (RX), The Devil (RX), 10 of Cups.

Pile Three: If you resonate with the photo of TWICE, you got the grandmother spirit around you. Did you grow up in the church? Or at least with a god-fearing grandmother? I feel like the women in your life hate to see you unhappy and this is what you’re feeling right now. I think that you may be uninspired/unfulfilled with what life is giving you right now. It’s not an uncommon feeling. But smiling can make all the difference. The women in your life want to see you smile, make you smile and laugh. They want to be there for you like how your grandmother was. No one will ever replace Granny but her presence is always there. You may be questioning God/your higher powers because of something that deeply affected you. But the women around you want you to not feel ashamed or want you to feel like they are judging you. They have been in the same predicament. They only want to see you get better. They hate to see you like this. It may be hard to do this but look at the glass half full, rather than half empty. They want you to get back to yourself, the version of you that isn’t defeated. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Child: Nature: Friendships with animals. Communication with nature spirits / Tendency to abuse animals, people and the environment. 

Destroyer: Releasing what is potentially destructive. Preparing for new life / Intoxication with destructive power. Destroying others’ dreams or potential.

Child: Magical: Seeing the potential for sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible / Pessimism, depression and disbelief in miracles. Believing that energy and action are not required for growth.

Cards Used: The Devil, Princess of Cups, The Star, Judgment, The Moon, Temperance, Seven of Swords.

Pile Four: And lastly, if you resonated with the photo of the Spice Girls, you seem very sensual. Are you a SWer? Do you attend pole dancing classes for fun? Do you know someone who does either of these things? I feel like the women in your life appreciate how physical you are. You’re probably an artist and you're sensitive about your shit too. The women in your life feel as though you have a lot of talents. You’re very multifaceted and they love to brag about it, especially the older women. You could been the cousin who had to show off the latest dance move. So as a result, you became the leader of the pack. You can be naturally nurturing but it can drain you. The women around you feel like you need to put up some boundaries so that you can still worry about you. They respect your quality of being a giver, but do you even respect yours-[GUNSHOT]. There is a woman that you are close to that admires a quality that you hate. She compliments it any chance she can get because she wants to uplift you. I feel like people always try to touch you, whether it’s your hair, your arms, or even your butt. The women around you could immediately shut it down or call them out or defend it. They want to protect your innocence. Even though you are grown, you have that ingenue within you. They know how you can get (especially while under the influence) so they refuse to let you get that way. When I pulled from my oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Servant: Delight in serving others with a free and loving heart / Using the lack of money as an excuse not to move forward with life 

Bully: Highlights your tendency to intimidate others. Helps you confront the inner fears that bully you / Conceals deep fears behind verbal or physical abuse.

Hedonist: Inspires creative energy to embrace the good things in life. Celebrates the beauty in yourself / Pursues pleasure to the detriment of health. Indulges at the expense of others.

Cards Used: The Star, The Lovers, Judgment, The Emperor, 7 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Ace of Cups, The Moon, 8 of Cups (RX).

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #hoodoo #tarot #tarotreading #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #pac reading #tarot pac #tarot pull #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #free tarot #tarot deck #tarot reading #womens history month #spirituality #intuitive readings #pick a reading #tarot pick a card

[depthsasunder-if]

Depths Asunder is an 18+ pirate interactive fiction infused with magic. It follows you, a young and fresh pirate captain, contracted to find a gem that is rumored to manipulate life and death to the wearer. It's a race against other crews who are just as determined to fulfill the contract and collect their riches.

[DEMO TBA] 𓊝 [CHARACTER POSTS]

Content warnings include violence, suggestive themes, substance use, gore, dark themes, emotional turmoil and more.

Your mother was a legend in the seas; a revered pirate captain, her legacy has followed you even after her death. All you want is to live up to the legacy she has given your family name, though all you've amounted to so far is the occasional thievery to survive.

When you're contracted by rich and powerful noble you're promised a swell of riches. In return, you must find and bring back a rare treasure that holds power beyond anything you know. Countless crews have attempted to find it, only to either end up dead or lost.

Now, it's your turn to collect your crew and bring your ship to the sea. You'll go up against not only dangerous mythological creatures of the sea but other ruthless pirates determined to find the treasure before you.

As you travel through the world of Sikara, you'll find that there's an even bigger mystery afoot. Will it all be worth it?

Customize your pirate captain from identity, your nickname, pronouns, gender which changes the story, appearance, personality.

Decide what kind of pirate captain you are: are you a bloodthirsty pirate hellbent on destruction? Or a merciful captain paving a new path? Do you treat your crew with kindness or hostility? Are you relaxed or a dictator?

Customize your ship: name your ship, choose the look, the features and enchantments. Will it help you during your sea battles?

Stop at different locations: will you raid like a typical pirate or help the locals? Will you steal treasure?

Customize your crew and decide who joins you on your journey. And who walks the plank.

Romance a slew of characters that include your ruthless rival, a merperson, a stowaway, the person who contracted you, and your best friend.

Play a character-driven narrative that is both on land and in sea. Discover what Sikara has to offer.

Captain Morgan 'Deadeye' Price [m or f]: Morgan is the bloodthirsty captain of the Lady Triton. They also happen to be your biggest rival, seeing as they're the child of the pirates that killed your mother. Morgan is bloodthirsty, unforgiving, cold and arrogant, and is determined to find the treasure. Part of you thinks they care less about the coin and more about beating you....and eventually killing you.

𓊝 enemies to lovers, rivals

Anton/Antonia St. Marteen [m or f]: The nobleman/woman who contracted you. They insisted on joining you on your travels, determined to see the treasure for themself. You don't know much about them other than the fact that they are stinking rich, which is all you need to know. Unfortunately, being on the sea with them means you're their unofficial bodyguard.

𓊝 bodyguard romance (MC is the bodyguard), forbidden, opposites attract (noble and pirate)

Castor Morgana [m or f]: the stowaway that hid in your ship alongside their sister, Ruth. Majority of your crew wants them thrown overboard, though a few think Castor can be helpful to the cause. It's up to you to make the final choice.

Gaelin 'Straightlace' Haval [m or f]: your best friend, second-in-command, and advisor. Gaelin is levelheaded, logical, serious, and deals little with emotion. They also seem to be the only one who cares little of pirate culture. They just want the mission done.

𓊝 best friends to lovers, opposites attract (possibly)

Sage/Soren of The Sea [m or f]: a mermaid/merman who, in a series of events, ends up on your ship. It's lucky that they grow legs off-sea, but no matter how human they look, they treat you as an enemy. Pirates and merpeople don't mix, and Sage/Soren is determined to keep a distance, even if the world of humans interests them so. They don't trust you, not with all the blood that's been spilled from both sides.

𓊝 romance with merperson, forbidden, doomed romance

Ruth Underwood [non-RO]: Castor's younger half- sister. She seems to have taken a liking to you, following you around like a puppy. How you deal with her is up to you.

+ and more!

Development of Depths Asunder will fluctuate based on my free time. I hope you like it and join me on this voyage :)

#interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #choice of games #cog #dashing don #cog wip #interact-if #interactive story #dashingdon #if game #choicescript #if wip #upcoming if

[storiesbyrhi]

In progress series Total word count: 83,064 thus far Witch!reader x bat/vampire!Eddie Munson

No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople's wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, horror genre typical violence/infrequent gore, death/dying, animal death, suicide, abusive parents, death in childbirth (mentioned - not described), spiders/bug, no beta, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Extras: From 1586 to 1986 - our story's timeline The Grimoire - all the magical references ^updated with each chapter Book cover art Eddie art

Chapters:

one: Eptesicus fuscus 2809 words A voice calls to you.

two: From sickness a reprieve 3443 words There are many different ways to heal.

three: A drop of witch's blood 2755 words When is a man, not a man?

four: Deserving of hex or death 3371 words An ye harm none, do what ye will.

five: A gateway to the woods 2562 words In honour and love.

six: To symbolise atonement and reconciliation 2714 words Death and transformation, or: how to unhex.

seven: I wasn't your burden to bear 2740 words Bury a candle and give allegiance.

eight: Lux solis urere hic malum 3051 words Death is here.

nine: That's the real monster 2962 words What is expected of us?

ten: This is holy work 2909 words Violence comes twofold.

eleven: A carnal fight of bodies 3046 words A witch will not fight alone.

twelve: I remember destruction 2777 words The timeline narrows and questions begin to find answers. 

thirteen: A question of morality 2882 words Warning... answers may lead to endings.

fourteen: The natural laws of magic and earth 3294 words We are our memories.

fifteen: Fade to black 3170 words Before death.

sixteen: Everything all at once 3515 words Liminal spaces.

seventeen: Where there is death 3668 words We speak to those beyond.

eighteen: A ghost in the memory 2552 words Magic for magic.

nineteen: Love and be loved 2292 words It's time to wake up.

twenty: Slit the throat of fear 3635 words A non-linear and incomplete series of vignettes.

twenty one: Your defense is me 2590 words Looming doom.

twenty two: I will not survive you 2918 words It's time for a family reunion.

twenty three: Our mutineer fate 3390 words In coven we trust.

twenty four: Come pleading for absolution 3124 words Pulling strings and aura reading. 

twenty five: Continue to delight me 2738 words Homeward bound.

twenty six: No new monsters 2994 words Life goes on.

twenty seven: Deep, dark catacombs of my soul 2888 words To build a home. (bonus: Little Witch's Moody Midnight Mix Tape)

twenty eight: A monument to witchcraft and love 2340 words. You are wide awake. (bonus: Little Witch and Eddie's Home inspo board)

twenty nine:

thirty:

thirty one:

#Mine #Rhi Masterlist #Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader #Witch!Reader x Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You

[johnbierce]

Fantasy short story anthology time!

My new book, The Gorgon Incident and Other Stories: A Mage Errant Anthology, is out now on Amazon and Audible!

I absolutely love writing short stories. They push me as an author in ways that novels don't, and each one presents me with a unique, fascinating challenge. And, with this anthology, they allow me to explore parts of Anastis, the world of Mage Errant, in ways I couldn't in the main series. I get to travel to out-of-the-way corners, visit ordinary people to see how they get by in a world of giant monsters and ruthless archmages battling for control of petty territories, to explore secret conspiracies and legendary historical figures, and to flesh out Anastis' ecology, culture, and history.

If you haven't read Mage Errant yet, the first three ebooks are free for the next few days, and books four through six are on sale for $0.99 in the US and UK! Mage Errant is a completed, seven book magic school progression fantasy series, following the adventures of Hugh of Emblin as he goes from being a shy, neurodiversefailure of a student mage who struggles with anxiety and depression to being a shy, neurodiverse terrifying archmage who struggles with anxiety, depression, giant monsters, and magical superweapons. It features found family, giant monsters, a science-inspired hard magic system where you're as liable to run into hair or bismuth mages as fire mages, giant monsters, lots of queer characters, giant monsters (some of whom are also queer characters), kaijucratic systems of government, and sapient living cities. (Did I mention the giant monsters?)

The stories in the Gorgon Incident are written to be legible even to people who haven't read Mage Errant yet- though I think most people will get more out of them after reading the main series. The twenty-four stories, all originally published on my Patreon, span five centuries of history, from the last years of the Ithonian Empire up to the events of the series itself, even visiting another of Anastis' continents for the first time.

I also leaned hard into the science-inspired aspects of the setting with many of the stories, building what I like to call science puzzle stories, where the plot of the story revolves around the real-life behavior of various materials and natural processes, through a magical lens. (I had a lot of fun doing it, and it even let me include a whole additional appendix filled with notes on the science of the short stories- I love appendices.)

(Art by Aaron McConnell and Lee Moyer.)

A fugitive child finds shelter with a monster of legend. A mind-blind scholar outwits the mages who disdain him. A gold mage must secure a bank vault from a monster capable of obliterating entire cities. An aging basketweaver wakes up one morning to find a brand new river in front of her house. A palace-sized octopus seeks to defend his city from a living fortress of bone— if he can get his arms to cooperate.

In these twenty-four short stories set in the world of Mage Errant, John Bierce explores the murky depths of history, forgotten corners of Ithos and beyond, and the strangest reaches of magic itself.

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Gorgon Incident Audible US link Gorgon Incident Audible UK link Gorgon Incident Audible CA link Gorgon Incident Audible AU link

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