#her providing a protected place for it to flourish

[nerdpoe]

Selina has her eye on a one-of-a-kind jewel.

The museum it's in have no idea what kind it is, just that it was a leftover result of an attack on Earth by some dimension called the Infinite Realms.

And, well...it's really very beautiful.

Diamond white and abyss black and frosty blue, constantly shifting colors, emits cold, constantly generating frost so that it's shimmering in the lights.

It's unique. It's stolen from another dimension. It's gorgeous.

She wants it.

So; she takes it.

She...can't really bring herself to take it to a magic user to return it just yet.

Mostly, she keeps it in a glass, temperature controlled container in her apartment.

Harley and Ivy think it's pretty, but they don't really experience the same draw that Selina does.

She resolves that she will contact the Infinite Realms to ask if it's something they want back in...a week.

One week turns into one month.

One month turns into four months.

Four months turn into a year.

For that year, the beautiful jewel sits in it's protected case, and Selina ogles it when she's a bit too stressed. Every day, it seems to get brighter and shinier.

She isn't driven by compulsion, no-she knows herself too well. She knows damn well she's being driven by greed.

Then one day, as she's staring at it-the jewel starts to glow. The glass case shatters. A form begins to shape out of frost and-possibly-space.

And then there is a teenager, sitting bewildered in her apartment. All wild white hair and wide green eyes, shock written into his very expression.

He stares at her.

She stares at him.

"...So, not to be weird, but why are my instincts telling me you're my mom?"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #the first time he goes human he gives her a heart attack #because #“oh no i'm becoming bruce” #but her possessiveness of Danny's core #her providing a protected place for it to flourish #offering it “love” (it was greed but whatever) #made his ghost side go #“oh is this mom? this is mom.” #now they both get to deal with the consequences of that

[rewildling]

Reading the Blackwater Scene as a Symbolic Wedding

Because that’s what it is.

Il bacio by Francesco Hayez

Let’s start by establishing the common features of wedding ceremonies in Westeros.

Cloaks feature prominently in the wedding rituals of the Faith of the Seven, the old gods, and the Lord of Light. In all three cases, the maiden’s cloak represents the protection of the bride’s father, while the bride’s cloak represents the protection of her new husband. During the ceremony, the maiden’s cloak is exchanged for the bride’s cloak.

Though the words differ, each faith’s marriage ceremony involves an exchange of vows that are sealed with a kiss. After the ceremony and feast, the marriage is consummated with a bedding.

Sansa’s farce of a wedding to Tyrion provides a good example:

As father of the realm, Joffrey took the place of Lord Eddard Stark. ... Joff swept her maiden’s cloak away with a kingly flourish and a grin. ... And so it was that her lord husband cloaked her in the colors of House Lannister whilst standing on the back of a fool. … She smoothed her skirts and knelt in front of him, so their heads were on the same level. “With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband.” “With this kiss I pledge my love,” the dwarf replied hoarsely, “and take you for my lady and wife.” He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly. … For after the feast would come the bedding. Sansa III, ASOS

Meanwhile, marriage among the free folk involves the custom of wife stealing. This tradition prevents inbreeding and allows a man to prove to his bride that he is worthy of her:

"He'd have t' be quick and cunning and brave t' steal me. So his sons would be strong and smart as well. Why would I hate such a man as that?" Ygritte, Jon V, ASOS

"Amongst the free folk, when a man desires a woman, he steals her, and thus proves his strength, his cunning, and his courage. The suitor risks a savage beating if he is caught by the woman's kin, and worse than that if she herself finds him unworthy." Jon Snow, Jon XIII, ADWD

To sum up: wedding ceremonies in Westeros involve cloaks, vows, kisses, beddings, and, in the case of the free folk, wife stealing. Now, let’s put it all together in the context of the Blackwater, starting with Sandor’s Kingsguard cloak:

Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps. When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering. Sansa VII, ACOK

And this isn’t the first time she’s worn his cloak:

Sandor Clegane unfastened his cloak and tossed it at her. Sansa clutched it against her chest, fists bunched hard in the white wool. The coarse weave was scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine. Sansa III, ACOK

The imagery of Sansa wearing Sandor’s cloak in these two scenes evokes the tradition of the groom cloaking the bride during a wedding ceremony. But there’s another aspect of the cloak’s marriage symbolism at play in the Blackwater scene: it’s an allusion to a bloody sheet.

Women sometimes bleed when they have penetrative sex for the first time. In the medieval period, white sheets stained with blood were sometimes used as proof that a marriage was consummated and that the bride was a virgin on her wedding night. This custom also appears in ASOIAF:

“Did you chance to see the marriage bed the morning after?” Cersei asked. “Did she bleed?” “No sheet was shown, Your Grace.” A pity. Still, the absence of a bloody sheet meant little, by itself. Cersei VI, AFFC

As they climbed, Damon Dance-for-Me whistled, whilst Skinner boasted that Lord Ramsay had promised him a piece of the bloody sheet as a mark of special favor. The bedchamber had been well prepared for the consummation. The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

With this in mind, let’s examine sexual subtext in the Blackwater scene:

He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." … She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking. Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps. When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. Sansa VII, ACOK

The eroticism in this scene is fairly obvious. Sandor pushes Sansa onto a bed and lies on top of her. The phrase “his dagger was out” is phallic imagery. She "sings" for him — a common euphemism for feminine sexual pleasure. The phrase “she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood” is evocative of bodily fluids. He leaves her with white fabric stained with blood. GRRM even separates the cloak from the fabric in the last line: “She found his cloak on the floor… the white wool stained by blood.” Essentially, this part of the Blackwater is an allusion to a bedding and a bloody sheet.

The custom of wife stealing is also evoked in this scene. Consider Ygritte's explanation of the act:

“A true man steals a woman from afar, t' strengthen the clan. Women who bed brothers or fathers or clan kin offend the gods, and are cursed with weak and sickly children. Even monsters." Ygritte, Jon III, ASOS

“I'd sooner be stolen by a strong man than be given t' some weakling by my father." Ygritte, Jon V, ASOS

Sansa is betrothed by her father to Joffrey Baratheon — a product of incest and a monster.

We can also draw a comparison between Sandor’s threatening Sansa during the Blackwater and the element of coercion involved in wife stealing:

“I’ll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was out, poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.” Sansa VII, ACOK

“Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night.” “I never meant to steal you,” he said. “I never knew you were a girl until my knife was at your throat.” Jon III, ASOS

During the Blackwater, Sandor offers to steal Sansa away from King’s Landing and take her home:

“Where will you go?” “Away from here. Away from the fires. Go out the Iron Gate, I suppose. North somewhere, anywhere.” Sandor Clegane, Sansa VII, ACOK

This offer is integrated with Sandor’s vow to protect her, which is immediately followed by a near kiss.

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. Sansa VII, ACOK

So, in the Blackwater scene we have a cloak, a vow of protection followed by a near kiss (which Sansa later misremembers as having actually happened), a symbolic bedding/bloody sheet, and an attempt at wife stealing. All the features of a Westerosi wedding are present — Southron, Northern, and free folk.

The wedding imagery in Sansa and Sandor’s relationship arc is most obvious in this scene, but it appears in other places throughout ASOIAF. Think back to their very first interaction of the entire series:

Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her. Sansa I, AGOT

In Westerosi wedding ceremonies, the role of the bride’s protector is transferred from her father to her new husband. The imagery in this scene is absolutely evocative of that tradition, which makes sense because it’s Sandor who takes up the role of Sansa’s protector in King’s Landing after her father’s murder. Consider the following in the context of the previous passage:

She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders. Sansa III, ASOS

The parallels are obvious — but it doesn’t end there. Sansa keeps Sandor’s Kingsguard cloak in what is essentially a hope chest, which is meant to store clothing for future married life:

I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. Sansa I, ASOS

When the Tyrells are planning to wed Sansa to Willas, she imagines what it would be like to be married to him:

What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady. Sansa II, ASOS

Sansa very quickly accepts the idea of a husband with a bad leg. Who else has this disability?

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. Brienne VI, AFFC

There’s also her dream about Sandor the night of Petyr and Lysa’s wedding:

It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor... That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. Sansa VI, ASOS

Then there’s Sansa’s response when she’s asked if she knows what happens in a marriage bed:

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he’d kissed her, and gave a nod. Alayne II, AFFC

It makes sense for Sansa to think of Tyrion here, but why is she thinking about Sandor in the context of a marriage bed? Unlike Sandor, Littlefinger has actually kissed her, and before Tyrion, she was betrothed to Joffrey. Of the handful of men Sansa has been romantically linked to, Sandor is the only one she actually wants to share a marriage bed with. This line is an echo of her dream the night of Petyr and Lysa’s wedding. Whenever Sansa thinks about wedding nights or marriage beds, Tyrion is the first man she thinks of, but her thoughts always quickly turn to Sandor.

The marriage motif in Sansa and Sandor’s relationship arc is most palpable during the Blackwater, but it’s subtly woven into the entire series — both before and after. It's also significant that the symbolic wedding in the Blackwater scene is incomplete. Sandor doesn’t actually kiss Sansa, and he leaves King’s Landing without her. His attempt at wife stealing fails because she isn’t ready, and he isn’t worthy of her — yet. Both characters have undergone a great deal of growth since the Blackwater, so will Sandor get a second chance?

He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa. Alayne II, AFFC

By Sansa’s own (inadvertent) admission, the day of the Blackwater isn’t finished. Sandor might get another shot at wife stealing in TWOW — and maybe their symbolic union will someday become a literal one.

#sansan saturdays #get her a dog #sansan meta #sansan #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #sansa stark #sandor clegane

[zapreportsblog]

↳ anticipation and reassurance ↲

➘ summary : Neyetam and his wife are expecting a baby but some concerns arise in the mother, don’t worry Neyetam is there to make everything better

➘ neyetam x reader , avatar the way of water x reader

➘ a/n : I’ll be writing stories like this for most of the characters. Everyone’s aged up so don’t worry their won’t be no young mommy’s and daddy’s in these fics for an example as I’m writing this I’m picturing neyetam as a early 20s late 20s kinda dad and yes I’ll be using this gif for pretty much all the stories lol ooh and I’m using a na’vi translator for some words but I’ll place the English version next to it

Among the lush and vibrant forests of Pandora, Neyetam and his wife (Y/N) walked hand in hand. The world around them was alive with color and beauty, mirroring the love that they shared. The Na'vi couple had faced many challenges together, but their bond remained unbreakable.

As they strolled through the forest, the topic of conversation turned to a matter that had been occupying their thoughts for a while now. (Y/N) was expecting a child, and both parents-to-be were filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

"(Y/N)," Neteyam said softly, his voice carrying the gentle cadence that was so characteristic of the Na'vi. "I've noticed you've been a bit worried lately."

(Y/N) looked up at her husband, her vibrant eyes reflecting a hint of concern. "It's just... I can't help but worry about our child, Neteyam. What if they come out with five fingers like me? What if they're picked on?"

Neteyam's expression softened as he brought his free hand to (Y/N)'s cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "No matter how many fingers our child has, they will be perfect, (Y/N). Our love will always protect them."

(Y/N)'s lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Neteyam chuckled, the sound blending harmoniously with the natural world around them. "I may not have all the answers, but I know that our child will be loved and cherished by both of us, no matter what."

As they continued to walk, the breeze rustling the leaves above, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and reassurance wash over her. Neteyam's unwavering support and love filled her heart, dispelling the worries that had clouded her mind.

"Thank you, Neteyam," she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and affection.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his touch tender. "We're in this together, (Y/N). Our family will be strong, and our child will grow up surrounded by love and acceptance."

With Neteyam's words as a soothing balm, (Y/N) found herself embracing the journey of motherhood with renewed determination. The Na'vi couple's love would be the foundation upon which their child's life would be built, a life that would be woven into the vibrant tapestry of Pandora, where acceptance and unity flourished among the people and the world they called home.

As the months passed on Pandora, (Y/N)'s pregnancy progressed, and with it, a sense of anticipation and joy settled over the Na'vi couple. Their everyday life continued in harmony with the rhythms of their environment, while Neteyam took on the role of provider and protector for his growing family.

(Y/N) found herself embracing the changes in her body, supported by the Na'vi community around her. She continued to engage in her daily activities, participating in the rituals and practices that had been a part of her life long before she and Neteyam had started their family. The vibrant forests and lush landscapes of Pandora became her sanctuary, a place where she felt connected to the world around her and the life blossoming within her.

Neteyam, as a devoted partner and future father, took on the responsibility of providing for his family. He ventured into the wilds of Pandora to hunt and gather, ensuring that they had enough sustenance to sustain them. His skill in navigation, his understanding of the ecosystem, and his connection with the environment allowed him to navigate the challenges of survival with grace and efficiency.

Each day, Neteyam returned to their home with the fruits of his labor, his face adorned with a proud smile as he presented his offerings to (Y/N). She would greet him with a warm embrace, grateful for his dedication and care.

As the due date drew closer, the Na'vi community came together to celebrate the impending arrival of the new life. Rituals and blessings were performed, honoring the bond between (Y/N) and the child she carried. The interconnectedness of the Na'vi people with their environment was reflected in these ceremonies, as they recognized the importance of nurturing and protecting new life.

As the sun cast its warm glow over the Na'vi village, (Y/N) worked alongside Mo'at, preparing healing materials for the tribe. The air was filled with the soothing scents of herbs and plants, an atmosphere of serenity that contrasted with the imminent excitement that was building within (Y/N)'s own body.

In the midst of their tasks, a sudden gush of water and a sharp pain took (Y/N) by surprise. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as she realized that her water had broken. Panic surged within her, and she turned to Mo'at, her voice tremulous. "Mo'at, my water broke!"

Mo'at's expression shifted from calm concentration to swift action. "Come, (Y/N)," she said urgently, guiding her towards one of the healing beds. "We must get you to a healing bed right away."

(Y/N) bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes as the pain intensified. "Mo'at, I can't do this without Neteyam."

Mo'at's gaze softened, her maternal instincts kicking in. “We will kìte’e for him, txìm for zoplo, focus on your breath. We kin make sure ngenga ulte the baby are safe." (“We will send for him, but for now, focus on your breath. We must make sure you and the baby are safe.")

As Mo'at moved to summon help, (Y/N) clung to the bed's edge, her fingers curling into the fabric as the waves of pain intensified. She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks as she cried out for Neteyam, her voice echoing through the village.

Neteyam, who had been in another part of the village, heard the urgency in (Y/N)'s voice. His heart raced as he sprinted towards the healing area, his mind filled with worry and determination. He arrived just as Mo'at was attending to (Y/N), her voice demanding that he leave for the moment.

"(Y/N)," Neteyam said, his voice laced with urgency and determination, "I'm here."

Mo'at turned to him, her eyes stern as she spoke in a commanding tone. "Neteyam, you cannot be here right now."

Neteyam's gaze locked onto (Y/N), his determination unwavering. "I'm going to be here every step of the way."

(Y/N) looked up at him, her tearful eyes connecting with his. She reached out a hand, her fingers trembling. "Neteyam, please..."

Neteyam's heart ached at the sight of (Y/N)'s distress. Without hesitation, he extended his hand, and their song cords connected, intertwining in a symbolic gesture of unity and support.

As (Y/N) continued to labor, the connection between their song cords allowed Neteyam to feel everything she was experiencing. He could sense her pain, her determination, and her strength. Their bond grew stronger with each passing moment, an unbreakable link that mirrored the love and connection they shared.

Time seemed to blur as the two of them faced the intense journey of childbirth together. With Neteyam by her side, (Y/N) found the strength to push through the pain and uncertainty. And as the cries of their newborn child filled the air, their connection deepened, a testament to the power of love and unity that defined their lives on Pandora.

As the cries of their newborn baby filled the air, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion washed over (Y/N). Mo'at gently placed the baby in (Y/N)'s arms, allowing the new mother to cradle her precious bundle of joy.

Tears of joy welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she looked down at her baby's face, her heart bursting with love. The baby's fingers were delicate and small, and as (Y/N) counted them, she realized that her fears had been unfounded – the baby had five fingers on each hand.

Beside her, Neteyam gazed down at their baby, his expression a mixture of awe and silent contemplation. (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced at him, noticing his distant gaze.

"Neteyam?" she whispered, her voice tinged with concern. "What's wrong?"

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on their baby, his grip on the infant firm yet gentle. He took a deep breath, his voice soft but filled with an intensity of emotion. "Nothing is wrong, (Y/N). They're perfect."

(Y/N) blinked in surprise, her heart swelling with warmth at his words. "Of course they are. Our baby is perfect in every way."

Neteyam turned his gaze to (Y/N), his eyes shining with an indescribable tenderness. "No matter how many fingers they have, they're our child, and they're perfect."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes once more, this time from the sheer depth of emotion she felt for both Neteyam and their baby. She reached out to touch his arm, their fingers brushing against each other in a silent display of unity.

With a smile, (Y/N) leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Neteyam's cheek. "Thank you for reminding me, Neteyam. Our family is perfect just the way it is."

Neteyam's gaze remained locked on their baby, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yes, (Y/N), our family is perfect."

As they basked in the joy of their new arrival, the Na'vi couple realized that the number of fingers their baby had was inconsequential compared to the love, unity, and strength that defined their family. In the embrace of Pandora's natural beauty and the love they shared, they embarked on a new chapter of their lives, ready to face whatever challenges and joys lay ahead as a family united by love and acceptance.

#neyetam #neyetam x reader #neyetam x you #neyetam imagine #neyetam x y/n #neyetam fanfic #neyetam imagines #x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #avatar the way of water imagines #avatar way of water x reader #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar neteyam #avatar the way of water imagine #avatar the way of water x reader #avatar masterlist #avatar the way of water masterlist

[lewmagoo]

the bunny and the bull rider | rhett abbott

description: in which absence makes the heart grow fonder

warnings: no sexual content but still 18+ only, brief mention of sex (rhett and reader do practice a dom/sub relationship outside of their cg dynamic but that relationship is NOT shown here) caregiver!rhett, age regression, slight angst with a happy ending, perry abbott (because he’s a warning in and of itself)

curious about what age regression is? go here

pairing: rhett abbott x afab!reader

notes: big thank you to @lovinglyeternal for putting me onto the rhett calling you ‘pumpkin seed’ agenda. also to @bradshawsbitch for helping me brainstorm for this piece. luh you babies 💓

Rhett had never known true peace until he met you. 

Peace was just something he never thought he’d find. Nor was it something he’d ever really experienced. The Abbott household was not a place of serenity. He had never felt at ease within those four walls a day in his life. 

He felt like he didn’t belong, like he didn’t have a purpose. His mother had her religion. His father had the land. Perry had his family. But Rhett? All Rhett had was bull riding. He had no identity or purpose outside of that. 

That is, until you walked into his life. 

It started gradually, at first. The realization that he was interested in you, and that you shared that interest. Asking you on your first date. Kissing you on your doorstep as he dropped you off for the night. But as time went on, his feelings for you grew. 

The fondness he had soon turned into love. And the realization that he loved you hit him like a ton of bricks to the chest. It sucked the breath out of his lungs and made his head spin. It nearly drove him to his knees. 

But that wasn’t what brought him to a place of peace. Of course, loving you did provide that for him. But there was something else. Something so special, so sacred, that only he was privy to. 

When you had initially brought up the concept of your age regression, you had been terrified. Not because Rhett scared you, because he didn’t. You felt so very safe around him. No, you were scared because you loved him so much and you were afraid he wouldn’t understand. Afraid he wouldn’t want to be with you any longer once he learned about this part of you. 

He had taken everything else well. When it came to your sexual escapades, he’d been on board with everything you’d thrown at him. You had begun developing a solid dominant and submissive relationship, and it was flourishing. 

But this was different. There was nothing sexual about your regression. It was pure and innocent. A way for you to let go of any and all stressors and reconnect with that childish part of yourself that you had repressed for far too long. Being forced to grow up too fast did that to a person. 

You had kept it hidden from Rhett. Not to keep secrets from him, but to protect yourself, because you knew your heart couldn’t handle losing him if he didn’t want to deal with your regression. 

However, you knew that you had to tell him. It was such a big part of who you were, and not being able to share it with him was doing more harm than good. So, one day you finally gathered up the courage to sit him down and talk it through. 

He didn’t react as you were explaining it. He simply listened very intently, his blue gaze trained on you, unwavering. And once you were finished with your explanation, he nodded thoughtfully. 

“And this is somethin’ that…helps you?” He asked, reiterating what you’d said. 

You nodded. “Yes. It’s a huge stress reliever,” you replied. “If…if this is a deal breaker for you, I understand. It’s a lot to take in.”

Rhett shook his head. “It ain’t a deal breaker. Far from it. I’ve never heard of regression before. But if it helps you then I’m willing to do whatever you need me to do. I’ll give it a shot, I don’t see what it could hurt. ‘sides, I already know I love takin’ care of you. I don’t see how this could be much different.” 

Just the fact that he was willing to try filled you with so much joy. All that anxiety you’d had about telling him melted away, replaced with a comforting warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

And that was how it began. Rhett assumed the role of your caregiver. It was rather adorable to witness. He was so concerned about doing the very best job he could. He had many questions, and even went as far as to write your answers down in a little composition pad he kept in the front pocket of his shirt. 

You explained everything in detail, and remained open and honest about what you needed from him. He pledged to take good care of you, and you had no doubt that he would. 

The first time you regressed with him was a wonderful, serene moment. You felt safe and at ease, and had no problem slipping into that little mindset. Rhett watched in awe, finding himself enamored. 

It was through becoming your caregiver that he found that long sought after peace. He realized that this was his purpose in life. Looking after you was what he was always meant to do. And once he came to that conclusion, everything else clicked into place. 

You developed a very deep, unshakable bond. A dynamic so full of love and care. You had never felt so safe and protected before. You could fully be yourself with Rhett and he never judged you. He allowed you to be as small as you needed, and he was always there to look out for you. 

He became the best caregiver you ever could’ve asked for. You were able to flourish as a little under his watchful eye. Gone were the days of hiding your regression. You allowed yourself to fully relax and trust in his tender, loving care. 

Along with that came a fierce protectiveness that Rhett felt toward you. He cherished your special dynamic, and he would move mountains just to make sure that you could safely regress. 

You knew you could call for him at any time, and he would rush to your aid. You tried your best to leave him be while he was working. But sometimes, there were days when you needed him. After you’d tried everything to soothe yourself, you would send him a text asking when he would be home. 

He always knew you were feeling little based on the amount of emojis you used. 

hiya daddy! i know you’re busy working but do you know when you’ll be home, perhaps? 🥺💓😚💞☺️💕

It didn’t matter what he was doing. When he got that notification, he would stop everything to answer. Rhett was not one to use emojis, but for you, he always made an exception. 

I’ll be home soon, pumpkin seed 😘❤️

And you would try your best to let it be. But if you knew you were slipping in a bad way, and you needed him to come and look after you, you would press him further. 

how soon? feeling real little in a bad way 🥺💓

That was all you had to say. If he was able to drop whatever he was doing in an instant, he would, assuring you he was on his way. To him, there was nothing more important than taking care of you. 

He would return to you and guide you through what you were feeling. And as you tearfully apologized for pulling him away from work, he would tell you not to “worry your pretty little head about it”, because he never wanted you to feel like a burden for needing his care. He had pledged to you that he would be the best caregiver he could be, and he intended to fulfill that promise. 

Up until this point, he had always been close by. Even when he was working, whether it be on your own property or on his parents’, he was always a text or a phone call away. You could access him whenever you needed him. 

But there soon came a moment in time when he had to be away from you. It was an unavoidable circumstance. There was an issue with a shipment of livestock, and he needed to head across state lines with his father to take care of it. 

Rhett wasn’t sure how long he would be gone. Since entering into this special relationship, you had never been apart for more than a day. The thought of leaving you made anxiety twist in his chest. 

It wasn’t that he thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself. He knew that when you needed to, you were more than able to make adult decisions and look after yourself. You were not an invalid. However, you had come to find such comfort in his care, and he was worried about leaving you all alone.  

He very gently brought it up to you when he got home that night. “Bunny…I need t’ talk to you,” he spoke up after you’d finished dinner. You were snuggled up on the couch with him, your feet resting in his lap, his large hand placed delicately over your ankles. 

Your eyes flickered to his, and you saw his serious expression. It made your stomach drop. “About what?” You softly asked. 

“I, uh, I found out I’ve gotta leave town for a bit. Dad’s got a new cattle shipment comin’ in and there’s a problem. He wants me to go with him tomorrow to deal with it.”

Your brow furrowed. “Okay. How long?” 

“I dunno. Could be a day or two. Could be a whole week. Just depends on how quickly we can resolve the issue. I really, really don’t wanna leave you. But I’ve got no choice.”

You nodded, chewing at your bottom lip thoughtfully. “It’s okay. I know you’ll be back as soon as you can.”

“I will. I just don’t like the thought of leavin’ you all alone. And I’d have ya stay with my ma and Amy, but somebody needs to be here to look after the property. Can you handle it? I don’t want you gettin’ overwhelmed and spiraling while I’m gone.” He knew you all too well. 

“No, I’ll be okay. I’ll just make a to do list so I can keep track of everything,” you replied with a hopeful smile. He could see that you were trying to remain positive for him. Truthfully, the idea of being all alone in this big house for days at a time was a little scary. You had your work, training horses, to occupy you, but there would still be those moments in which you were alone in your silence. It was daunting. 

But you didn’t want Rhett to worry. You could already see the concern in his eyes. He hated that he had to do this. If he could bring you along, he would. But he didn’t want you getting pulled into the mess. And he also knew that Royal would likely be pissed at Rhett for bringing his girlfriend on such a trip. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his father’s irritation. Besides, he knew you felt most comfortable at home. He didn’t want to pull you away from it unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Y’ sure?” 

“I’m sure. I’ll miss you lots, but I’ll be fine,” you assured him. And you would be. 

He hummed, nodding his head. “I’ll have Perry check on you while I’m gone. Y’ know how he is, but he at least cares about your well-being. And if I put Amy onto it then she won’t leave her dad alone and he’ll have no choice but to bring her over here so she can say hi.”

You smiled at that. Rhett’s niece had grown quite fond of you, and you, her. She was always up for a trip to Uncle Rhett’s, mainly so she could see you and go on trail rides with you and Rhett. 

“Okay. I’ll be leavin’ tomorrow morning. I’ll get your breakfast ready and then I’ll be on my way. I’ll make sure everything’s in order before I do, though.”

You smiled, leaning in closer to him. “It’ll just be a few days, right? I can be a big girl for that long. I’ll make you so proud, Daddy.”

He mirrored your smile, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. “I know you will, punkin’ seed.” The nickname made you smile. His pronunciation of pumpkin was the cutest thing you’d ever heard, and you loved it when he called you that. 

It was settled then. Rhett would be leaving the next morning. In the meantime, he spent the evening getting everything ready. Packing a duffel of things he’d need, making a list of things for you to take care of so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed and forget what you needed to do, even going as far as to make you a couple jars of overnight oats so you’d have breakfast for the next few days and wouldn’t have to worry about making it. 

While he was downstairs getting everything ready, you took the time to secretly slip one of your rabbit stuffies into his bag, with a little note that said “bunny is always with you :)”. Bunny was another nickname he’d dubbed you, which he called you when you were feeling particularly little. You knew finding the bunny in his bag would bring a smile to his face. 

By the time he was finished getting everything situated, you’d already climbed into bed, and you were waiting for him, snuggled up in bed. That night, he held you close and whispered a made up story to you to help you drift off to sleep. And it seemed that all was well. You were prepared for him to leave the following day, and you were convinced that you could handle his absence. 

That is, until you woke up that morning, and it all spiraled out of control. 

You knew it was going to be difficult from the moment you opened your eyes. Rhett was already up and about, leaving you feeling particularly alone and small in the large bed you shared. For a frightening moment, you thought he’d already left without saying goodbye, and it set the tone for how the entire morning was going to go. 

You didn’t mean to panic. Really, you knew you were being irrational. But it hit you out of the blue, and you immediately sprang from the bed, rushing out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

“Daddy?!” You called out, your tone slightly panicked. You stopped in the kitchen. He wasn’t there. You looked in the living room. It was empty. “Daddy!” Your voice was louder and more frantic now. 

Tears welled in your eyes, and a terrible sadness creeped into your chest. He’d really left without saying goodbye? The thought hurt more than you could describe, and in an instant, you began to cry. Hot tears burned their way down your cheeks, and soft sobs that caused your shoulders to tremble left your mouth. 

Little did you know that Rhett had only stepped outside for a moment to toss his bag in the truck. He was heading back to the house, planning to wake you up gently and sit with you while you ate your breakfast. However, when he stepped through the front door, he was met with the sound of crying. 

He was instantly on high alert, his feet carrying him right to the sound. He found you standing in the middle of the living room, sniffling and whimpering. 

“Hey, hey. What’s the matter, little bun?” He softly called. 

You gasped, whirling around to find him standing there. “D-Daddy,” you squeaked before you threw yourself into his arms. Through your sobs, he was able to make out the words, “I-I thought yo-you left without saying goodbye!” 

His arms tightened around you, and he hummed lowly. “Oh, baby. I’d never do that to you. Never, ever.” He pulled you back to look at your tearful face. “I’ll always say goodbye. No matter if I’m leavin’ for fifteen minutes, or fifteen days. Alright?”

Sniffling, you nodded. “Al-alright.”

He lovingly wiped your tears away. “I’m sorry I scared’ya. I didn’t think you’d wake up. Next time I’ll make sure you know where I am.”

You tearfully thanked him, and he pulled you back in to press a kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon, let’s get some food in you before I have to leave.”

He led you back to the kitchen, making sure you were seated at the table as he got your breakfast ready. You tried to remain upbeat, but after your initial moment of panic, you were feeling all wrong. 

You could feel yourself beginning to slip. All you wanted was to be little and have Daddy take care of you, but you knew he couldn’t. You needed to be a big girl and let him leave. But in this state of mind, you were only growing more upset. He was leaving and you were scared. Scared to be alone, in this great big house. Scared to sleep by yourself in the bed, and listen to the creeping nightlife outside. 

It came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Don’t leave me, Daddy! Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you wan’ me to!”

He was just setting down your plate in front of you when you said it. You gasped and placed your hand over your mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that,” you exclaimed. More tears welled in your eyes. 

Rhett took a breath before he knelt in front of you. “Sweet baby, you know I’d drop everything and stay with you instead if I could. It kills me to leave you, but I have to. I understand that you’re feelin’ scared and sad, but I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that?” 

Tearfully, you nodded. “I can. I can be a big girl. I’m sorry I said that. I know you’ve gotta leave, Daddy. I’m just really gonna miss you.”

He brushed a stray tear away from your cheek. You noticed his own eyes had grown misty. “You can be a big girl. How do I know that? Because you do it all the time. You show me everyday how brave you are by training those horses the way you do. So I just need you to keep bein’ brave like that until Daddy gets back.” 

You forced a smile. “I’ll be brave for you.”

“Atta bunny.” He tapped your nose. “Now eat your breakfast.”

You managed to pull yourself together long enough to eat your food, even though you weren’t particularly hungry. And by the time you were finished, it was time for Rhett to leave. 

He held you in his arms, standing in the entryway of your home, knowing that once he stepped over that threshold and headed down the porch steps, it would make the goodbye final. 

It wasn’t as if he was leaving for a long period of time, but because he’d never left you before, it was particularly hard. Especially because you were upset and he couldn’t fix it. He was always the one who kissed your tears away. Now he was the one inadvertently causing them, and it hurt like hell. 

“I’ll see you soon, punkin’ seed. I’ll text you when I’m on the road. And I’ll call you when I can.” He kissed your head before leaning in to kiss your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied in earnest. 

Then, with one more kiss to your forehead, Rhett was gone, slipping away and heading out the door. You stood in the doorway and waved until his truck disappeared down the lane. And then, you cried. 

But life had to go on. There were things to take care of. Horses to exercise. So, you dried your tears and threw yourself into your work. 

Ultimately, it was the only thing that got you through his absence. As it would turn out, Rhett ended up being gone for an entire week. His absence weighed heavily on you both, but you put on a brave face. 

You went about your normal chores, such as feeding the animals, tending to your flower garden, and working with the horses. Perry came over a few times during the week to tend to the landscape. Of course, he had Amy in tow. Her bubbly demeanor lifted your spirits, and you were happy for the distraction. 

She was the only good thing that had come out of Perry and Rebecca’s marriage. She was also the main reason Rhett chose to remain civil with his brother. His relationship with Perry was rocky at best, and had only grown more so in the last few years after Rebecca had disappeared. 

Rhett didn’t fully trust his brother. In fact, he’d even gone so far as to keep him at arm’s length around you specifically. He had his reasons for doing that. One of them being that he suspected that Perry was jealous. He’d lost Rebecca, and not long after, Rhett had found you. Perry would never admit it, but he deeply envied Rhett’s happiness, and almost resented him for it. Rhett knew what Perry was capable of. He was known for his blackout temper, which Rhett had been on the receiving end of many times growing up. And although the elder Abbott had never once directed any of that temper toward you, Rhett was still protective, and wanted to see to it that you never witnessed that rage. 

However, despite all of that, Rhett had entrusted him with checking in on you, or rather, the homestead, while he was gone. He figured his brother could at least handle that, because no matter what, he did know how to look after a ranch, thanks to his upbringing. 

Even so, Rhett knew Perry wouldn’t look after you the way he could. No one else could do that job. You had deemed only Rhett worthy of it, because he was the only man in the entire world that you felt truly, deeply safe with. 

And every second he was gone, you missed that safety more and more. You had grown so accustomed to his presence that being without him felt foreign, as if a very important part of yourself was missing. An entire limb. Half of your heart. Part of your soul. 

He texted you every morning and every night. He called you when he could. He was exhausted, you could tell. What should have been a quick trip had turned into an entire ordeal. It was a problem on the shipping company’s part, and Rhett and his father were shouldering the headache they’d caused. 

“I miss you so much, punkin’ seed,” he confessed to you one night, weariness evident in his voice. “Feel terrible that I’ve gotta be away from you for so long. Just wanna…just wanna hold you in my arms.”

You knew what he needed. He needed reassurance. There was a part of himself that was afraid. Afraid he’d lose you. And maybe it was indeed an irrational fear, but he couldn’t help it. Everyone before you had walked away from him. He knew you wouldn’t do such a thing, but he still carried that fear around from having his heart ripped out of his chest one too many times. 

He had never experienced a love like yours and the thought of losing that was unfathomable. It was a good thing you knew exactly how to soothe him. 

“I miss you too, Daddy. I’m here waiting for you to get back. I can’t wait to snuggle up with you and listen to you tell me all about your trip.”

He hummed lowly. “An’ I can’t wait to hear you tell me about all your big girl adventures. You been gettin’ along alright?”

“I have been. But it isn’t the same without you. The house feels empty. And I can’t be little because I don’t wanna do it without you here to look after me. So I’ve just been…hanging out.”

Rhett’s chest ached. He knew how much regressing helped you calm down when you were feeling anxious. The fact that you were unable to do it made him wish all the more that he could be there to help. “I’m hoping it’ll just be another day or two. Then I’ll be back home.”

“And I can’t wait. I miss my daddy.”

He hesitated for a moment before he said, “I know you can’t be little right now, but…would you like me to tell you a bedtime story to help you fall asleep?”

He knew all too well how uneasy you were at night, and the thought of his soothing voice detailing one of his notorious made up stories sounded wonderfully appealing. “Yes please.”

And so he did. You drifted off into a peaceful sleep to the sound of a love story about a horse trainer and a bull rider. 

The next few days were difficult. You missed Rhett terribly, and he was so busy that he barely had time to text you throughout the day. He was unable to call you one night, because by the time he had a free moment, it was much too late, and he knew you would already be asleep. Little did he know that you’d cried yourself to sleep because you missed him so. 

However, luckily for you, by the week’s end, he was finally coming home. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face when you received his text that he’d be home the very next morning. You were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Soon, everything would be as it should be. Your Rhett was returning home, where he belonged. 

In your excitement, you decided to clean the house and make everything sparkle so that he would have a clean house to come back to. He didn’t expect you to do that, of course, but you wanted to welcome him into a calming atmosphere after the tough week he’d had. 

You knew that once he returned, you would likely end up going into little space. So, while you were still feeling capable and big, you took the liberty of making his favorite for dinner ahead of time. 

By the time you tended to all your chores, visited the horses, made dinner, and cleaned the house, it was evening. And it was while you were setting the table that you saw the flash of headlights in the window, and you knew he was finally home. 

With a gasp, you dropped the fork you were holding, letting it clatter to the table as you made a dash for the front door. You flung it open and threw yourself outside, just as Rhett was climbing out of the truck. You ran at him at full speed, and he instantly dropped his duffel bag in the dirt before he met you halfway, catching you as you launched yourself into his arms. 

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” You exclaimed, giggling musically as he spun you around. 

He mirrored your laugh, squeezing you tightly to him. “Ohh, there’s my little punkin’ seed. Missed y’ so much,” he gushed.

You leaned back, reaching up to hold his face in your hands. “Missed you too!” You echoed. You let him bend to pick up his bag before you linked your arm with his and began to lead him up to the house. “I did so much while you were gone! Had so many big girl adventures! I fed all the chickens and got the eggs and I fed the cows and I taught some new things to the horses, and I planted new flowers! You have to see them, they’re so pretty!”

You babbled on and on about everything you had done as you led him into the house. Rhett just listened with a smile on his face, enamored with your enthusiasm. 

But as you made it into the house, you finally took a breath. “Oh! Here I am talking all about myself. How was the drive home?! Did you get all the issues sorted out with the shipment? Are you tired? You probably are and here I am just babbling on!”

When you looked at Rhett, he was grinning. He pulled you in close and kissed you on the top of the head. “God, I really did miss you, little bun.” 

You happily nuzzled into him. “I missed you too, Daddy. A whole lot.” Your voice wavered, and suddenly, you were overcome with emotion. 

When he saw the tears glimmering in your eyes, he hummed and pulled you in close, enveloping you in his strong arms. “You’re okay, little’n. Daddy’s here.”

Little’n. Yet another nickname of his for you. One that was so special and sweet. It made your heart sing. 

When you pulled back, he kissed your tears away, large hands holding your face. He smiled down at you, and you managed to return that smile. 

“I made dinner for you. Thought you might be hungry when you got back,” you murmured. 

“Really? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. You always take such good care of me. I figured I could return the favor.”

Another kiss was pressed to the top of your head. “How’d I get so lucky to have ya?” He hugged you close again before he continued. “I’m gon’ go take a shower and wash all the grime off. I’ll be right back, punkin’ seed. Okay?”

“Okay,” you replied with a hum. 

He slipped away to head upstairs, and while he was in the shower, you got dinner on the table. You were so happy he was home that you had a smile on your face the entire time you got things prepped. 

By the time he was coming down the stairs, hair damp, dressed in sweats and an old rodeo t-shirt, you had everything ready. You beamed at him as he stepped into the kitchen, waiting eagerly at the table as he approached. 

He leaned down to kiss you before he took a seat across from you. “Looks real good, little’n. I’m starvin’. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You gasped softly. “Oh! Well let’s eat before you waste away to nothing!” You exclaimed. 

So your dinner commenced. As you ate, Rhett filled you in on all that had taken place while he was away. You could tell how relieved he was to be home. The trip had been one headache after another, and the entire time he spoke, he kept reiterating how much he’d missed you and your tenderness. 

He held your hand across the table and told you how much he loved you. There was a sincerity burning brightly in his eyes, and it was so intense you had to fight the urge to avert your gaze. It hit you hard just how much he cared for you. You loved him equally as deep. 

“I’m sorry you had such a rough trip,” you sympathized. “But I’m happy you’re home safe.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Seems like you got in alright while I was gone.”

You shrugged. “I survived. But it wasn’t the same without my daddy.”

He lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “I’m so proud of you, punkin’ seed.”

His praise warmed you from the inside out, like a sip of a hot drink on a cold day. You hummed and melted on the spot, and Rhett smiled fondly at you. 

“Tell you what. I’m exhausted, and you’ve had a long week takin’ care of things on your own. What d’ya say we save cleaning up the kitchen for tomorrow and just spend the night with each other?”

You nodded happily. “And…I can be little?”

His eyes twinkled. “You can, if you wanna. Or, if you wanna be big, that’s okay too. Just as long as I get to spend time with my favorite gal, I’m all good.”

A strong sense of all-consuming relief began to wash over you. You felt tears welling in your eyes, and you nodded at him. “Wan’…wan’ be little.”

Watching Rhett morph into what you liked to call Daddy Mode was a sight to behold. It was as if he was slipping into a comfortable shirt that fit him like a glove. It was who he was always meant to be. 

“Alright then, little bun. I’ll put the dishes in the sink. Go get your jammies out and I’ll come up and help you get changed in a minute. 

You happily nodded. “Okay! And then can we color pictures? And watch Little Bear?”

“We can do anything you want.”

You gasped in delight, already beginning to feel as little as could be. “Thank you Daddy!” You stood from the table and stepped around it to plant a kiss on his cheek before you scurried off to go get ready for bed. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to wear. Rhett’s shirt always brought you comfort, and they were what you wore to bed more often than not. So you grabbed a clean one from the drawer, tossing it onto the bed before you grabbed a pair of underwear from your own drawer. Then you sat on the edge of the bed to patiently wait for him. 

You much preferred Rhett to help you get ready for bed. Especially after he’d been gone all week and you’d had to do it yourself. His presence was welcome. 

Moments later, he was stepping into the room, and he smiled at the sight of you patiently waiting. “Ready, bun?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded. 

He proceeded to help you change out of your clothes and into his shirt and your underwear. Once you were all set, he gently guided you to the bathroom, where you moved to sit upon the counter as he helped you brush your teeth. He stood before you and lovingly held your jaw in his big hand as he ran the toothbrush over your teeth. 

The action made you feel especially small, and by the time he was finished, you were in a state of complete relaxation, entirely floating in your moment of little space. “Atta bunny,” he praised with a kiss to your nose. “Ready to head back downstairs?”

“Yep!” You happily replied. 

He held out his hand and you placed yours in it, letting him help guide you off the counter before you happily followed him back downstairs. 

“Go get your coloring stuff, I’ll set up Little Bear on the TV,” Rhett instructed, his heart warming at your soft ‘okay Daddy!’ as you went. 

You quickly gathered your coloring supplies and then set them down on the coffee table as you plopped down right on the floor beside the table. But all of the sudden, you let out a gasp. 

“Oh no! I forgot to bring a stuffie down with me!” You exclaimed. 

Rhett glanced at you from where he’d been selecting the proper program on the TV. His face softened. “Don’t you worry about that, punkin’ seed. I got ya a little something while I was away that I think you’re gon’ love. Just gimme a minute to grab it.”

He pressed play on an episode of Little Bear before he quickly stepped over to the coat tree in the hallway, where he’d hung his jacket. He reached into his pocket and then pulled out a little stuffed horse. 

He his the stuffie behind his back as he strolled back into the living room. You’d already begun coloring a picture, which you looked up from at the sound of his footsteps. 

“Here you go, bunny.” He presented the small brown horse to you. It had a little white mark on its forehead, and white socks decorating its feet. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed, rushing to stand. You gently took it from Rhett’s hands and admired it before hugging the soft animal to your chest. “It’s perfect, Daddy.”

“I’m glad,” he said with a smile. His heart ached with love for you. Your happiness made the entire hellish week worth it. 

Then you launched yourself into his arms and whispered, “thank you, I luh you.” 

“I luh you too, little’n.”

Then you grabbed his hand and guided him to the sofa, where he sat as you got settled on the floor at his feet to resume your coloring. Little Bear played softly i the background as you colored a picture, with the intention of giving it to Rhett when you were finished. 

For the first time all week, you finally felt at ease. And so did he. He was able to slip right back into the role of being your caregiver, and it felt so good. He’d hated being away from you. It felt unnatural, almost, to be apart. 

For Rhett, it was a relief to be back in your presence. He would never speak it out loud, but that fear is abandonment had eaten at him all week, and even though he knew that you would be here to greet him when he returned, the irrational part of his brain still tried to suggest what if? What if he lost you? The thought was unfathomable. But thankfully, he didn’t have to fathom it. Because you were right here at his feet, coloring peacefully, so content to have him back with you. 

“Wan’ color with me, Daddy?” You suddenly asked, pulling him from his reverie. 

He hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt dampness in his own cheeks. He tried to wipe them away before you saw them and grew concerned, but you saw them anyway, and your face contorted into a look of concern. 

“Oh no! You’re crying!” You gasped. As Rhett slid down to sit beside you, you reached a hand out to wipe at his tears. “What’s wrong? Are you sad?”

You said it with such concern and reverence that it caused his heart to clench within his chest. “No, I’m not sad, little bun. Just…so happy to be back with you that it kinda got me cryin’ happy tears.”

Your own eyes began to shimmer. “Oh, Daddy,” you whispered. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close. “I’m happy too. Everything feels like it’s the way it’s supposed to be again.”

You left little kisses along his jaw and cheeks, soon causing his handsome face to break into a smile. “I love you more than words can say. You know that, right?”

“Mhm! I love you too! More than the moon and all the stars in the sky!” You kissed the side of his head as you hugged him close. “You’re the best daddy in the whole wide world!”

His arms tightened around you, and he let out a contented hum. Your love made his heart sing. “And you’re the best baby I ever could’ve asked for,” he echoed, leaning back to look into your face. 

Happily, you kissed his nose. “Now let’s color,” you urged. He couldn’t help but smile at your eagerness. 

You settled beside him and eagerly handed him a coloring book and placed your box of crayons between you both so he could use them too. You spent the rest of the evening coloring, happily showing Rhett your picture once you were finished, and announcing that you’d made it for him. 

“I love it, little bun,” he praised, admiring your work. “I’m gon’ put it on the fridge so I can look at it everyday.” 

Once you were tired of coloring, you climbed onto the couch, sleepily mumbling that you wanted to snuggle. Rhett gladly joined you on the couch and wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest. 

“I’m so happy you’re home, Daddy,” you murmured. 

He squeezed you a little tighter. “I’m happy to be home, punkin’ seed.”

You felt yourself relax fully against him, safe and content in his arms. Now that he was home, all was right with the world. You felt whole, as if the half that had been missing from your heart was finally back where it belonged. 

As you slipped off into dreamland in his arms, you heard him softly say, “I love you more than life itself, little bun. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He didn’t ever want to leave you again. However, he knew full well that there would come times that leaving you was unavoidable. But he knew behind a shadow of a doubt that it would only make each reunion that much sweeter. And he also knew that no matter what, you would always be waiting for him when he returned. 

-

tagging:

@damrlova @briseisgone @cosmic-psychickitty @laluneveillesureux @uhmellamoanna @imjustchristina @rhettabbotts @gohnspants @sebsxphia @emofairyprincessofarkansas

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x little!reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fluff

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

Csn you do one with bjorn where he meets a Christian women and the feel in love with smut and fighting like she hates him at first please

Thank you very much for requesting one! I am so so touched. This is my first ever request tbh. I really really hope this will be something you'll love to read!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU, NOR YOUR EYES. THANK YOU

Bjorn and Halfdan got back from the mediterranian before Ivar and Hvitserk from the Saxons. Ivar was drunk on their victory, blood-thirsty still. The people of Kattegat looked over the ships in horror. Some were packed to the brim with people they took back to be slaves. The women were crying, the children too, the some men they brought just sat with emotionless faces. Bjorn walked and looked at all of them one by one. A single woman stood out of all of them. She wasn't wearing fancy clothes, she probably wasn't anyone important. Ivar would've killed those anyway. Yet this woman was trying to calm the women and children with a straight face. She told them that everything will be allright. One of the saxon men hit her when she tried to console his wife. Spitting on her when she was on the ground, saying that she cannot know that it will be allright, they'll all be sacrificed or just killed for something they had no control over, something that they could not fight.

The vikings standing around enjoyed this show. Bjorn walked closer to watch too. One of the vikings threw a dagger next to the brave woman on the ground with a smirk. She looked at it, then looked at the wife of the saxon man, with their child in her hands. She took the dagger, and held it to the neck of the man.

-You better get yourself together for your family's sake. You are in a land you don't know, surrounded by people you don't know. They depend on you for survival wether you are all slaves or not. I only spare you because i do not wish for your family to know how to make ends meet without anyone to protect them. To make it alone... - the woman said before giving back the dagger to the viking, who laughed and grabbed her ass, yanking her close to his body. The woman did not care for herself, she punched the man in the eye, who fell on his backside, before she spat on him, and walked away, making the rest of the men laugh. She knew mercy, she was wise and strong, yet she was brave enough to humiliate someone who were way above a mere slave. She must have noone to look after, and to care for her.

Bjorn's jaw clenched, but he just walked away, and into the great hall where his brothers an Lagertha were.

-Bjorn.. you arrive at last. - Ivar snarled. - How was your destiny? DId you find it as pleasing as you imagined?

Bjorn just sighed. Ivar was getting way ahead of himself.

-It was satisfactory brother. What are you planning to do with the saxons you brought here?

-Straight to business i see. A lot of Kattegat's good people died when King Harald paid some bastard to attack. I plan to provide slaves for the men so that Kattegat could flourish again.. - he said with a sick smile - for that when i'll be king, i can make it ever greater..

His claim to be king was reasonable, Lagertha knew that sooner or later one of Ragnar's sons will try to take over the power. The seer told her that one of them would kill her someday.

-i want to buy one to help Torvi with my kids. I have seen one that was good with kids.

-Take whichever you want brother. Take it as a gift..

That was how you ended up as a slave in Bjorn's household.

At first he wasn't around much, and when he was, he just watched you from afar as you played with, and took care of his children. Noticing that Torvi wasn't around much, but they never cared for eachother's presence anyways. There was some kind of love, but definetely not the kind you should have for someone that gave you kids. You then stopped, then scolded yourself for even thinking of this kind of thing. You were a slave, far far away from any place you ever knew. The only priority should be to survive. Nothing else. Hopes, dreams and family were out of the picture. The first time in your life you were thankful for being an orphan and having nobody because this way you only really had to worry about yourself.

That winter Bjorn was studying his map in peace, Torvi was in the village with Lagertha while you played with the kids. You urged them not to go on the ice, knowing it was still weak, but they laughed and told you you were just a slave, you had no right to command them. You started to loudly plead for them to get off of the ice. The you hear it break. By the time Bjorn walked out to the front of the house, cuase of his daughter screaming, you put the two boys back on the ice where it was safe, telling them to back inside and change their clothes. You climbet out slowly, looking at your soaked dress, before walking inside to change yourself.

When you walked beside Bjorn, he got a hold of your upper arm, making you flinch as you were already freezing, your lips blue. He wanted to say something, but he changed his mind and he only said Thank you before letting you go to change before you catch a cold.

That night Torvi did not come home, so you cooked soup for the kids and Bjorn. After you put them to bed, you silently placed yourself in the small nook you had as a room, lit a candle and started to patch your dress cause the ice slashed it in places.

Bjorn appeared in the doorway, watching you silently. When you looked up, you pricked your finger and it started to bleed. You hissed and in 2 strides he was kneeling before you taking a hold of your bleeding finger. You tried to take it from his hold, not to bleed on him, but he gave you a stern look, so you stopped moving. He was gently when he swiped off the blood and tied a cloth around it for you. But he made no move to leave, he just looked into your eyes.

-Why did you save them? You could've died.

-They are your children. I am just a slave. Their life is way more important then mine. I have noone to come home to, never had. - you said not looking at him. He curled a finger under your chin to make you look at him.

-We are your family now, this is your home. - he said and you couldn't help but laugh.

-I am your slave, that is entirely different. - you scoffed.

-Then you are not my slave anymore. You are free to stay, or free to go. - he said and you looked at him not understanding. He sighed, and started to explain. - I am setting you free. I want you to think of us as your family, not as someone who own you. We do not own you.

-Big false words.. I will never be free. The Holy God has other plans for me. But it is alright, i know that in the end, my choices will be the ones that matter. - you said, before taking a hold of the wooden cross in your neck. You were so angry you could've cried. But you weren't going to let him.

You were orphaned at a young age, a nunnery took you in. You never knew kindness. Your body was littered with scars from the procedures you had to endure in process to become a nun. They said you were sent by god himself, and that is why you had to endure all this pain, to repell for the sins humans had committed. It was the only life you knew. You were told that if you ever in danger, you have to kill yourself in order to prevent them to corrupt you. You had to stay pure so god would lift to himself to live happily in Heaven. But before you could od it, they captured and unarmed you.

In the middle of the night you were out, kneeling in the snow, dagger before you, silently praying, when Bjorn had found you. He decided not to disturb you, just watch you from afar. He had feelings for you that he cannot understand. You were christian. Sure he hated Athelstan when he was a kid, then he learned to love him. But you were a different case. He felt a pull to you.

-Forgive me father for i have sinned. I have sinned in thought. I.. i had dreams which i cannot understand, aches that i never felt before. I had been practicing repentance but they do not go away. Please lord, guide my soul back to you. - you whispered when you heard steps in the snow. You turned around, pointing the dagger to whoever it was.

Bjorn held up his hands so you knew he wasn't here to hurt you. But you did not lower the dagger.

-Why do you keep watching, following me? - you asked.

-You are a part of our family, i am ought to keep you safe too. There are wolves and bears out here you know. - he said with a smile.

-Good, i should've been dead months ago. - you snarled. His eyes widened.

-What thoughts you asked guidance from your god for? - he asked curiously, as he started to circle you.

-That is between me and my god. - you said arrogantly.

He knocked the dagger out of your hands, and grabbed your hands, holding you close with your back to his chest as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

-Perhaps thoughts of me are plaguaging you ? - he whispered with a low voice, when the aches returned. When you did not answer he knew he was right. -Ain't nothing bad with those love..

-I am a woman of god, i should've kill myself when your people attacked. - you said not resisting his hold anymore.

-But you didn't, you had a job to do still, your god had other plans for you. - he said, and then shoved your head back, hitting him right in the nose, making him let you go. You grabbed the dagger again, holding it to his neck now. He was not afraid though, his hands held your hips as he yanked you closer, leaning down, nose touching yours.

-You will not hurt me we both know that. Perhaps your god is telling you to live a different live as you did. - he said before softly kissing you sofly. You gasped but did not lower the dagger. You broke his kiss, looking him in the eye.

-Tell me one good reason not to cut your throat. - you snarled at him with hate in your voice.

-You do not want to. You may try to deny it, but we both feel it. I never thought i could want a christian, after my friend was killed, but here i am. And i know you feel the pull too, you must have felt it.

-And what if my god is testing me. The devil is tempting me into sin..

You cannot finish because he grabbed the blade and threw it away, before kissing you passionately. You cannot find in yourself to stop it. You had dreamt of this before, this was why you were praying tonight too. For your god to forgive these dreams and thoughts. And now here you were kissing Bjorn under the moonlight. He gently picked you up, not breaking the kiss before bringing you back to your small room, as he put you in your bed, hovering over you.

-Will your wife kill me tomorrow? -you asked as he caressed your cheek.

-She won't, she is also not my wife. We do not love eachother.

-But you have kids together.

-That doesn't mean we want eachother as companion for life. I freed you because i hope you'd want to be mine cause of your own will, not cause you are a slave and have no other choice. - he whispered before kissing you again.

-You would resent me for my god. - you said holding his collar.

-I don't care what god or gods you pray for. I care that you're by my side. - he said before he kissed your neck. You gasped and pushed him away.

-Did you never...? - he asked and you shook your head. - I will take care of you, i can be gentle. - he smiled at you. Somehow he felt that being your first was something big. He wanted it to be good for you. He slowly undone your dress, making you lay bare under him as he caressed the scars he found. He did not ask about them, he can do that tomorrow, for now he wanted to show you love. His lips followed his caressing fingers as he showered your body with kisses until he settled between your legs. He kissed you womanhood just as he kissed your lips before, yet unfamiliar warmth spread across you as a whimper escaped your lips. You felt him smirk as he started to put a finger inside you between licks, pumping in and out gently. You felt something building inside of you, something wanting to snap. It was unfamiliar, most possibly sinful, yet something you wanted to never stop. When the coil inside you snapped, he climbed up to kiss you and sweep some hair out of your face. He caressed your body all over again before laying down on your bed, making you straddle him. YOu did not know when he got naked, but he had a body that screamed sin and holiness at the same time. You looked at him questioningly when he smiled at you, caressing your face again, then grabbing your chin to bring you down for a kiss.

-This way you'll be in control. I do not want to hurt you (Y/n). You can do it in your pace. - he said as he grabbed your hips and started to move you over his shaft. Not entering, just sliding along it, creating a delicious friction that had you moaning again. He stopped when he felt his tip aligning with your etrance perfectly, and he waited for you to sink down on him, letting him impale you in your own pace. You slowly lowered yourself, welcoming the pain of him stretching you out. When you sank down on him, letting him into you fully, you stopped, waiting for yourself to adjust. You looked at him. His eyes were closed, his hands caressed you.

He suddenly opened his gorgeous eyes, and sat up with you still impaled on his lap as he kissed you passionately.

-You were made for me. - he whispered before he started to thrust in and out of you. The feeling was unfamiliar but not unwelcomed. You felt that sweet feeling build up inside you again. You started to meet his thrusts harder and faster, chasing your release. When your moans became louder, your breathing uneven he took over and pistoed into you mercilessly. You reached your climax in no time, your abused cunt squeezing him so much, he thought it won't ever let go of him again, nor that he wanted to ever leave the warm place that was made for him there. He thought of you carrying his child someday as he came in you, as you small battered body, collapsed on his chest. He put his arms around you, holding you close, drawing small circles on your back.

-Sleep now love. I'll keep you warm. - he whispered before kissing the top of your head. And that is what he did. When you woke up the next morning, you felt sore, but you felt something warm under you. You unconsciously snuggled closer to the source, only to hear a faint rumbling and a little laugh. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Bjorn's blue ones, filled with all the love you ever saw. He was looking at you as if you were something holy. You didn't find the words so you just stared at him.

-Does it hurt anywhere? - he asked. You shook your head and looked down, suddenly shy. He pulled you close again.

-You are so perfect... - he said.

#request #requests are open #one shot #smut #vikings history channel #bjorn x reader #bjorn x you #bjorn ironside #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn fluff #bjorn smut

[thatbitcheryextras]

I’m gonna sound stupid for a couple of seconds but pleaseeee stay with me:

I love men. Love love love them. Think they are great (potentially) magnificent being’s, yada yada yada. Really cool creatures, like dog’s. But, in the back of my head there is a voice that somberly whisper’s to me in the rare blue moon I do get interested in an individual saying “Relationship’s are social contracts. Choose well.” So I’ve only been actually involved with 1, who I got with at 23 and then broke things off when we projected what future we intended on living and it didn’t match (I’m 25 now).

I need a better framework but do not know what I need. I come from a family of women that married out of need’s and resent the men besides them, hate them even. And yet, still need them. I saw some at their worst and yet, still want one. I really think they are neat. And useful. I don’t know if I’m being capable of passing what I mean don’t you love it when the language that connects you to the best minds is the one you are less proficient in?? BUT what I’m saying is I know the quality of what I capture depends on the quality of who I am, and who I am is feed by what I know I want and work to become. But I’m not sure what are the foundations I should be putting in place for myself, or what exactly makes a quality partner. My decision making in life so far is made with “I like this” and “I don’t like this” as thing’s come, and I want to be more aggressive and active about life without having to expose or submit myself to certain experiences to find out if I like it or not.

I saw you saying that in your family you can only date after a certain age, and from how you project yourself I think you where raised and cared for by very strong and wise women. Can you share a little more about how you view yourselves and your partners? What you guy’s believe is foundational for relationships not just to function but to flourish? I know some people hate role’s, but I think they are important even if I don’t have them clearly cutted in my mind yet. Thee one’s I got passed down come from hate and hurt (understandably) and aren’t serving me, but I don’t know in which direction to grow.

thank you in advance!! And I’m so sorry if it didn’t make sense, I still struggle a little to pass my thoughts to English I’m sorry!

25+, that's my dad's law, the girls in my family (my sister & I) can only date or marry after 25,and if you stupidly get pregnant before that just abort before he finds out bc you're ded ded if he catch you. The reasoning is you're not an adult before you're 25 & being female is a disadvantage in a (community) world basically ruled by m3n, bc according to MY DAD, m3n are self serving & the only way to survive them is to be as self serving (shout out to my mom lol). Relationships, as I've learned, only work when the lady can walk away. Dependency is a trap, when not a choice. Trap. Whoever holds the survival (food, clothing, shelter & inevitably money) holds the power & if you want to know how much of an Animal our brothers in species can be, why don't you get pregnant for someone when you're broke. Do it, see how that goes for you. My dad's rule- your bag, your frontal lobe then MAYBE a man, maybe, and low key if a m4n ever abused me and my dad found out he'd probably b3at me bc who raised me lol.

The only way you can love someone is if your survival doesn't depend on them. Then, you can choose to rely on them. Choose. A choice, but a woman MUST have her own money & a support system outside her partner and her own life going on, that's when a relationship will work. Then, because you're a woman & he's a man and biology is biology, if you don't rely on him to provide and protect it won't work , he will RESENT you. Point is you should be capable of independence, but choose to be dependent.

Relationships are a question of compatibility, mystery, respect and comprehension. See how there's no chemistry there? Exactly.

and, here's the shortcut- reciprocal.

The kind of man that you want, realistically, what kind of woman do you think he wants? Be that. I do this thing with friendships and work and networks etc where I write a love list [qualities I want in them] and the reciprocal and just- work on embodying and becoming that- creating compatibility.

In figuring out what *you* want, you're on the right path. It's really just experiencing things and deciding nah I don't like that, you know what I kinda like this. So go on more dates. Hang out with more guys. Watch more dating shows. Get into more situationships , [carefully], figure yourself out. Experience is the best teacher is it not?

I haven't seen many functional romantic relationships in my life [maybe my parents, & I didn't grow up with them so does it count?] But I've been in plenty of wonderful platonic and business relationships- the key has always been reciprocity, compatibility, internal locus and if I'm honest, a lot of shady scheming manipulative shit from my end (especially business relationships hehe). Maybe try therapy?

As unhelpful as this has been, I do hope you have a beautiful partnership.

[demetrius-haggarty]

Shrub Club: Episode 2

Demetrius walks all over the castle grounds to make sure he finds the perfect location for the Shrub Club’s greenhouse. The duo comprising of a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor got all the paperwork out of the way so that Meech can finally claim a location for their own meeting space.

It is right outside of the main Herbology building in a small secluded area. There are no flowerbeds here that would be destroyed nor are there trees in the middle to take down. Just some beehives to the side which can even be helpful depending on what they decide to grow. Having spent quite some time in this location, Demetrius comes to a conclusion that it does get plenty of sunlight as well, unlike the area right underneath that he considered first.

The farmer boy has all the instruments needed for building with him. Although he has never constructed something like this on his own before, he helped his gramps plenty of times. This should not be hard considering that all of his club members volunteered to help out as well. Meech feels rather relived at that: his magic is only good for certain things, practical things. There is no Quidditch practice this weekend so the Gryffindor is set on finishing his part of the construction in two days.

He places charms on the instruments, commanding them to do as he wills. Some of the stone and wood he had already levitated to this area during his preliminary observations of the grounds. Stone goes for the base, and wood — for the building frame. It might look rather basic and but with the help of others the greenhouse would surely flourish. The glass and the decorations? Some protective charms? Maybe even something that can make the inside of the greenhouse bigger than the outside? He is sure that the girls will have it covered.

Having talked to @theodoradevlin @ask-wren-zhang and @justmagnoliaellistor he approximated their skill sets. Theodora talked about letting nature provide the beauty and Meech is curious as to how that can be achieved. Using wood-like plants in the construction? The vines that take over the wooden posts and swirl around like those solved Merlin Trials structures? Theo also wondered if she can use Glacius to freeze window panes out of water since they cannot really afford all that glass. Wren mentioned that she is rather good at furnishing (that would help cover the inside of the greenhouse) and can even bring refreshments. And Magnolia talked so fondly about flowers in one of her letters that Meech is sure that her sense of beautify and experience with taking care of an actual garden back home would come in handy. The wizard wonders how different Magnolia’s garden is compared to Theo’s grove or what he and his gramps grow on the farm.

The Gryffindor doesn’t feel like he has the right to tell people what to do even if everyone involved offered to help. They can all get together and see what it is they want to grow, what plants would go where. Would they want a small area with a table and chairs where they can sit and discuss things? Maybe a separate terrace on the outside or a porch as part of the greenhouse overlooking the valley below? They have to figure out and get the right soil and fertiliser for the seeds, sprouts and saplings they’d plan to get. How would the watering system work, ventilation, heating in winter? They certainly need to do more research, a lot of it probably charms Meech has never heard off. And there is the question of the greenhouse decorations, of course!

Less thinking, more doing: Demetrius gets to work.

#d. h. #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy rp #theodora #magnolia #wren #shrub club #Wren will get an owl regarding her letter later today! #*Feel free to mention what you feel like your character wants to add!* #*I only summarised your owls and googled some greenhouse basics to give you an idea but anything is welcome!* #*Want to make a moodboard or throw in a picture of how you think a greenhouse of your dream would look like? Go for it!* #*Want to think what plants your character likes? Where to get the seeds? Who else to call for help? Feel free to write!* #*Want to talk more about our OCs and MCs interacting — I'm all ears!* #*Replies or reblogs or messages: I am free for anything.* #*Just have fun if you wish to join and it not — that is also ok 💙*

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Frankenstein

or

The Modern Prometheus

By Mary Shelley

CHAPTER I.

I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him, for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a family.

As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance.

Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the mean time he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a merchant's house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind, that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.

His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.

Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her; and she knelt by Beaufort's coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend, he conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.

There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted affection. There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mind, which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved, and so was disposed to set a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the doating fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her virtues, and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace to his behaviour to her. Every thing was made to yield to her wishes and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind, and to surround her with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after their union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the change of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders, as a restorative for her weakened frame.

From Italy they visited Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I remained for several years their only child. Much as they were attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother's tender caresses, and my father's smile of benevolent pleasure while regarding me, are my first recollections. I was their plaything and their idol, and something better—their child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self-control, I was so guided by a silken cord, that all seemed but one train of enjoyment to me.

For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring. When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a necessity, a passion,—remembering what she had suffered, and how she had been relieved,—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a vale attracted their notice, as being singularly disconsolate, while the number of half-clothed children gathered about it, spoke of penury in its worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others were dark-eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin, and very fair. Her hair was the brightest living gold, and, despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness, that none could behold her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features.

The peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a German, and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the antique glory of Italy,—one among the schiavi ognor frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died, or still lingered in the dungeons of Austria, was not known. His property was confiscated, his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued with her foster parents, and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.

When my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa, a child fairer than pictured cherub—a creature who seemed to shed radiance from her looks, and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission my mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her. They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing to them; but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want, when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted their village priest, and the result was, that Elizabeth Lavenza became the inmate of my parents' house—my more than sister—the beautiful and adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.

Every one loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully,—"I have a pretty present for my Victor—to-morrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally, and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her, I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

#frankenstein #mary shelley #the modern prometheus #halloween #book club #read along #october #spooky month

[witchoftheisles]

12 Grimmauld Place

Of all the world’s great cities London is one of the oldest, with its history spanning nearly two millennia. It is the capital city of England; it has been since William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings and was named King of England in the newly completed Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day 1066. Through its higgledy-piggledy streets, all teeming with life, runs the River Thames, weaving like an ancient serpent through the city’s bones, coursing away through the thousands of years as the rumbling city swells in size around it, like an ever expanding wave.

Islington is an Inner Borough of London, located directly north of, and a stone-throw’s away from, the old City of London. In the early 18th century to the early 19th century, a new style of architecture was born; the Georgian townhouse. Muggle architects were ever more drawn to the ancient Greek and Roman styles; architectural beauty marked by symmetry, proportion and balance. Towns flourished in this period and London Town most of all; Islington was the proud new home of several Georgian townhouses. In 1807, Henry Dupont started work on the square of townhouses that would become Grimmauld Place, on land owned by the Marquess of Colchester. In the spring of 1812, the houses were completed and became highly sough-after, fashionable houses to own by the British aristocracy. 

In 1865 Cygnus Black II, at the age of twenty-two, was walking through London after having visited the British Ministry of Magic in Whitehall. He suddenly found himself in a very beautiful and impressive square of townhouses, with a rather lovely and flourishing garden in the centre. He persuaded the Muggle gentleman living in number twelve to pass over the keys and the deeds (and in one night the home seemed to vanish from Muggle existence) and 12 Grimmauld Place remained in the House of Black for 131 years, until 1996. When Orion Black, the husband of Walburga Black who was the granddaughter of Cygnus Black II, lived in number twelve, he added more anti-Muggle protection and made the home Unplottable. When the last remaining male heir, Sirius Black III, passed away, he left it to his godson, Harry Potter.

The home played an important role in the Second Wizarding War; it was the base for the Order of the Phoenix from 1995 to 1996 and when the Golden Trio were on the run, it provided a safe haven for them in the late summer of 1997. 

After the war ended, at the end of the summer in 1998, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley moved back into 12 Grimmauld Place as they were soon to begin their careers as Aurors. As Neville Longbottom also started work in the Auror Office, he joined the boys in London. For the next year, they would be the sole occupants of the old townhouse, alongside Kreacher who lived there until he passed away in the winter of 1999. After Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley graduated in the summer of 1999, they joined the boys and three became five. During that summer, Harry and Ginny got engaged, Ron and Hermione decided to find their own flat and Neville, who over the last year of the war became romantically involved with Hannah Abbott, decided to move in with her after the summer. Harry and Ginny discussed moving house but eventually decided, as they had a house inherited from Harry’s Godfather Sirius, and Ron and Hermione were going to be renting a flat in London, that they would stay and make 12 Grimmauld Place their home.

By the time Harry and Ginny’s first born son James came, 12 Grimmauld Place would be unrecognisable from the Pure-Blood style extravagance it used to be when owned by the Black family. The front door was painted a proud Gryffindor red, the silver serpent knocker became a golden phoenix knocker (in honour of the time the house had spent being a home to the Order of the Phoenix) and inside all of the old paintings and tapestries were removed. The history of the home remained in the old wooden floors and the doors and the wide sweeping staircase crawling up the house, but the old ideas were swept out and the home became brighter and more vibrant.

At the top of the home, on the fourth floor, the bedrooms belong to James and Albus. James inhabits the room that used to belong to Sirius (his namesake) and Albus inhabits the room that belonged to Regulus. On the third floor lies the master bedroom where Harry and Ginny reside, a smaller double bedroom that belongs to Lily and a shared bathroom. The second floor is home to Harry’s study, the sitting room (which was used as a playroom when the children were young, and then transitioned into a family room where the Potters love to enjoy each other’s company) and a bathroom. The first floor houses the impressive drawing room where the curtains used to be filled with doxies and an entire wall held a tapestry of the Black family tree but which now holds pictures of the Potter family. The ground floor is where the dining room is found, where many a large family Christmas has been held with much merriment and cheer. In the basement is the kitchen, with its stone floors, living beneath the house above; it seems to be constantly moving, the life-force of the family home.

#harry potter #12 grimmauld place #house of black #trivia

[ahungeringknife]

365: May 11

It was a chilly night on No Man's Land. Without the suns to beat out the heat of the day the night was like a cold hand around the throat. Stayed out without protection and you'd feel it in your lungs all the next day. It, among many excuses he gave himself, was why Wolfwood smoked. The cold couldn't settle deep in you if you just set your body alight. A thin smoke curled from the edge of the ember as the other slept. Sleep didn't come tonight. Was just like that sometimes. Too much serum kept his nerves buzzing, eyes open, until exhaustion. Almost until death.

Meryl slept in a tight ball in the back of the car, wrapped up in her coat and blanket, hat over her head and eyes to block out the light. Roberto was tucked into his jacket in the passenger seat, chin down against his chest, snoring softly, one hand curled around a flask Wolfwood wasn't sure could empty.

The heating lamp cast their little 'camp' into orange and blue relief, one side warmed by the light, the other gripped by the cold desert air. Wolfwood sat against the Punisher propped up against the car, toying with his lighter. Flicking it opened and closed with the soft click of the catch and the snap of the metal meeting together on the close. There were three moons out tonight, each an eye peering down from the heavens. Wolfwood wasn't looking at them.

He was looking at Vash laid on his back like he was sleeping, using his bag full of who the fuck knew what as a pillow. He was doing a good job pretending, keeping his breathing deep and even. Not moving too much. But the light of the lamp reflected off his eyes unnaturally even at this angle. He was looking up at the stars.

Wolfwood sucked on his cigarette. Burning smoke chasing the cold out of his lungs before it had a chance to settle. He knew Vash knew he was awake but did he know Wolfwood knew Vash was awake? It was hard to avoid hearing the soft click of the lighter closing and opening.

The cigarette burned down to his lips before he plucked it out and flicked it away. The moons moved across the sky. Wolfwood lingered in the old smoke of the last one before fishing the box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Life sucked but at least the Eye of Michael wasn't such a shit show it didn't provide him with what he needed.

"Those things are going to kill you, you know," Vash said all of the sudden, breaking the silence of the night. Wolfwood fumbled the cigarette, not expecting him to say anything. He was looking across the lamp light at Wolfwood now. Without his glasses the heat lamp's glow reflected off his eyes unnaturally. Like a big cat from the story books back at the orphanage. He'd only seen such things like that one other place.

Not his problem.

"Pft, I'd like to see it try," Wolfwood said, picking up the cigarette from the sand and jamming it in his mouth. With a flourish he flipped open the lighter and sparked a flame.

"It's still bad for you," Vash said as the end of the cigarette caught. He pushed himself up on his jade arm, the light of the heat lamp catching on all the sharp planes of his face making him orange and purple and those reflective eyes like shining moons. Wolfwood just puffed at his cigarette with a shrug.

"Thought you were asleep," Wolfwood said, changing the subject. "Something on your mind?"

Vash shrugged and unfurled from his faking sleep, all long limbs and elbows. Sometimes he reminded Wolfwood of pictures of trees. All knobby limbs and graceful boughs, tossed in the wind like outstretched arms. He stood and was utterly still as the night of No Man's Land looking at Wolfwood. No wind to shift his golden hair or tug at his coat so you could really see how still he was. How utterly. Terrifyingly. Still he could be, eyes reflecting the light of the heat lamp.

A lesser man would have been nervous.

Wolfwood also knew Vash would rather eat his own coat than hurt a hair on any of their heads. He blew out a thin stream of smoke. Vash moved and like always it seemed so specific. Wolfwood just knew how to look. He knew Meryl and Roberto never noticed how Vash added extra movement to everything so he looked natural. So humans didn't see there was something off about him. Wolfwood had seen it in someone who didn't hide it.

"Yeah," Vash said, answering his question as he walked across the lamp glow. "You and Roberto really stink up the car," and Wolfwood lurched when Vash snatched the cigarette right out of his mouth. "Can't get any fresh air out here with you two puffing away," and even when he was trying to be stern it sounded so silly.

"Oh no, whatever will I do," Wolfwood said, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses he had on even at night. He pulled out the slightly crumpled box of cigarettes and pulled out another. Vash snatched that one too. "Hey- spikey knock it off," he scowled up at Vash.

"You're way too young to smoke yourself to death," Vash said, shaking a jade finger at him.

"Tsk. I'm old enough to do what I want," Wolfwood said pulling out a third. Vash didn't snatch that one. He just looked sort of sadly at Wolfwood instead, hands at his side, as Wolfwood lit the cigarette. Wolfwood took a light drag, the burning smoke filling his lungs. Thin white smoke curled in the still air between them. Vash sighed. "Don't know why you care so much," Wolfwood grumbled. He didn't like the way Vash was looking at him. It was almost... judgmental.

"That's kind of my thing," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "In case you hadn't noticed." Wolfwood had.

"If it bothers you that much just go back to sleep," Wolfwood said, looking up at him, cigarette hanging off his bottom lip.

He swore he was hallucinating from coming off the serum when Vash just, once again, picked the cigarette out of his mouth. This time he didn't crumple it up but looked away out to the desert and put it against his own lips. His eyes flashed where they were set in annoyance. But Wolfwood was just looking at the way Vash's fingers held the cigarette, the way his mouth was curled around it.

"I didn't know you smoked," Wolfwood said. Maybe that was why he was mad? Trying to quit. Didn't make any sense. None of this did.

"I don't," Vash said with very much the cigarette in his mouth. No smoke wavered out of the lit ember at the end. His face was half obscured by the collar of his coat but Wolfwood swore he saw something along the sharp angle of his cheek. A line? A glow? Something. "Do me a favor. Let this one be the last one tonight," and Vash took it out of his mouth and offered it back to Wolfwood. He looked normal. Or as normal as an imitation of a human at any rate.

Wolfwood wasn't a stranger to sharing. "You could have just asked if you wanted one," he said, taking it.

Vash's mouth made something like a smile. A cheap imitation. "Last one for the night, yeah?"

Wolfwood rolled his eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say spikey," but he'd probably light another once Vash went to sleep. He put the cigarette back in his mouth.

"Good," and Vash wandered back over to his bag and sat, pulling his red coat around him. He sat watching Wolfwood smoke his last cigarette of the night.

The cigarette tasted different. Didn't taste like shit. He'd had menthols once and it was... it was almost like that? Like crisp morning air. But not the cold of No Man's Land night. Like all the garbage stuffed into it was gone. The cigarette burned smooth and actually tasted like tobacco.

It was singularly the best cigarette Wolfwood had ever had in his life.

What had Vash done to it?

As he smoked he knew it'd be his last of the night. After something so good, so fragrant and warm having another would just muddy the memory. And he wanted to hold onto it. This last perfect cigarette. He didn't let it burn uselessly like he often did, taking care to savor it. The ember burned down to his lips and he was annoyed when he had to flick it off into the desert.

"Hey spikey-" but the words died on his lips. Vash was already curled up facing the heat lamp, eyes closed, actually asleep now. Damn. "Heh. Okay. Maybe next time then," Wolfwood said to himself and leaned back against the Punisher and looked up at the three moons and the stars. Even without another cigarette the warmth of the last one lingered in his mouth so the cold couldn't settle in him.

#365 #Trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #Vash #Wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #you can read it as vashwood if you want but it's written more gen #or preslash at the least

[hildathesaint]

Hilda's herborium: Rosemary

Scientific name: Salvia rosmarinus

Native Habitat: Mediterranean

Magickal qualities:

-protection

-banishing

-remembrance

-purifying

-death magick

-love

Description:

Rosemary is described as a woody, perennial herb that can become a bushy shrub. The leaves are evergreen and needlelike in shape, and they produce the essential oil that gives rosemary its characteristic scent. They are dark green on the upper side, and the underside has a dense covering of short, white, woolly hairs. Some varieties of rosemary grow in an upright form, and stalks can reach five feet tall. Other varieties have a trailing form with the branches curving downward into a cascade effect. The small flowers of rosemary can be blue, violet, purple, pink, or white, depending on the variety. They are fragrant and attract bees, butterflies, and some birds, which the plant depends on for pollination.

Folklore:

Rosemary is one of the most important Old World magickal herbs. It was associated with Aphrodite/Venus (Rosemary's name means “dew of the sea” in Latin). Later, it became linked to the Virgin Mary, who is said to have given the plant its blue blossoms when she rested her blue mantle on a bush.

Rosemary has a long history. It is native to the Mediterranean region and written evidence of it first appeared on stone tablets in Mesopotamia from around 5000BC. The Ancient Egyptians used rosemary in their burial rituals, maybe due to its antifungal and antibacterial properties which would have helped in the mummifying process. Sprigs of it have been found in tombs from as early as 3000BC.

During the Middle Ages (5th to the 15th centuries) it was used to ward off negative energies and evil. It was placed under pillows to ward off nightmares and was burned in houses to keep away the plague. The idea that rosemary provided protection and purification still continues today and it is often used to purify sacred places.

It used to be very common for a couple getting married to incorporate rosemary into their wedding. The bride would wear a headdress which would feature rosemary and the groom and guests would also wear a sprig attached to their clothing. It’s thought that this tradition was started because rosemary could improve your memory and recall. Wearing a remembrance herb meant that it was more likely that the couple would remember their sacred vows to each other. Guests would wear rosemary so that they could better remember the event. Rosemary would be planted at the door of the newlyweds’ home, the idea being that if the plant took root and flourished, the marriage would too. The traditional use of it at weddings meant that it soon became known as a love herb and was included in many love spells and charms.

Although Rosemary is generally now counted as a Masculine/Solar herb, the feminine association was stronger once upon a time. An old saying has it, “Where Rosemary grows, the woman rules.” It was said that Rosemary would only flourish in a garden where the lady of the house wore the pants. Because of this saying, men often forbid rosemary in their home. (Lol)

Christians once believed that the Rosemary plant echoed the life of Christ, growing for 33 years to the height of a man, then perishing. Rosemary also banished nightmares: according to a letter sent by Jeanne of Valois (1294 – 1342) to her daughter Queen Phillippa (wife of our Edward III), laying a sprig of Rosemary under the head of a sleeping man “doth away evell sprirites and suffereth not the dreeme fowl dremes ne to be afearde.”

Quotes about Rosemary:

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember." -William Shakespeare

"I plant rosemary all over the garden, so pleasant is it to know that at every few steps one may draw the kindly branchlets through one's hand, and have the enjoyment of their incomparable incense; and I grow it against walls, so that the sun may draw out its inexhaustible sweetness to greet me as I pass." -Gertrude Jekyll

"I try to do nothing. I drink rosemary when I have a lot of work to do. People take coffee, they take speed, whatever. I take rosemary." -Agnes Varda

"As for rosemary, I let it run all over my garden walls, not only because my bees love it but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance and to friendship, whence a sprig of it hath a dumb language." -Sir Thomas More

Miss Ainslie gathered a bit of rosemary, crushing it between her white fingers. "See," she said, "some of us are like that it takes a blow to find the sweetness in our souls." -Myrtle Reed

#hilda's herborium #rosemary #paganblr #paganism #nature #witchcraft #witchblr #Green witch #herbs #herb magic #folklore

[aifanfictions]

Path of Valor

Chapter 8: Jaskier's Misadventure

Their journey had been filled with moments of danger and triumph, but it seemed that trouble had a way of finding them, especially when Jaskier's big mouth was involved.

One sunny afternoon, the trio found themselves in a bustling market town, the streets lined with colorful stalls, merchants hawking their wares, and the lively hum of activity. Jaskier, always eager to embrace new experiences, decided to put his bardic talents to use and entertain the townsfolk.

With a gleeful flourish, he positioned himself in the town square, lute in hand, and began to strum a lively tune. His voice filled the air, and soon, a crowd had gathered, drawn by his music and charismatic presence.

The atmosphere was joyous as Jaskier sang songs of love, adventure, and merriment. (Y/N) and Geralt watched from the edge of the crowd, their expressions a mix of amusement and fond exasperation. Jaskier was in his element, his animated gestures and theatrical flair capturing the audience's attention.

However, as the day wore on, Jaskier's storytelling took a mischievous turn. He began to weave a tale of a legendary treasure hidden in the nearby woods, a treasure rumored to hold unimaginable riches. His words were laced with humor, and he assured the audience it was all in good fun.

Little did they know that his playful exaggerations would catch the ear of a group of unsavory characters lurking on the fringes of the crowd. These ruffians, hearing the promise of untold wealth, took Jaskier's words quite seriously.

As the bard concluded his performance with a dramatic flourish, the crowd cheered and applauded, and Jaskier basked in the adoration. But the moment was short-lived as a burly, menacing figure stepped forward, flanked by several other rough-looking individuals.

The leader, a scarred and grizzled man, pointed a finger at Jaskier and growled, "You there, bard! You're going to show us the way to this treasure you spoke of."

Jaskier, realizing the gravity of the situation, stammered, "Oh, you see, I was just telling a story, a fictional tale for entertainment. There's no actual treasure—"

But his words fell on deaf ears as the thugs closed in, their intent clear. They believed Jaskier was hiding the location of this imaginary treasure, and they were determined to get their hands on it.

(Y/N) and Geralt exchanged a glance, their instincts kicking in. They couldn't let Jaskier face these menacing individuals alone. With a shared nod, they stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively between Jaskier and the approaching thugs.

The leader of the group, unimpressed, sneered, "Stand aside, or things will get ugly."

Geralt, his voice dripping with warning, replied, "You're not getting anything from us. Jaskier's words were just a story, nothing more."

But the thugs were undeterred, and the situation escalated into a tense standoff. The crowd, sensing trouble, had dispersed, leaving the trio alone to face their adversaries.

With a sudden, aggressive lunge, one of the thugs attempted to grab Jaskier. But Geralt's reflexes were faster, and he intervened, striking the man down with a single, well-placed punch.

(Y/N) sprang into action as well, utilizing her agility and combat skills to fend off two more of the attackers. But the leader, though outnumbered, was formidable, and he engaged Geralt in a fierce, physical struggle.

As fists flew and blades were drawn, it became clear that the situation had turned dire. Jaskier, his initial shock giving way to determination, realized that he couldn't stand by while his friends were in danger.

With newfound bravery, he retrieved his lute, and, with trembling hands, struck a resounding chord. A shockwave of sound erupted, disorienting the remaining thugs and providing a momentary advantage for Geralt and (Y/N).

The leader, now off balance, was swiftly subdued by Geralt, and the last of the thugs were disarmed and incapacitated by (Y/N).

Panting and disheveled, Jaskier stood beside his friends, his lute still in hand. He offered an apologetic grin. "Well, it seems my storytelling got us into a bit of trouble."

Geralt, despite the chaos, managed a half-smile. "Your big mouth strikes again, Jaskier."

With the situation resolved, the trio decided to leave the market town, their encounter with the thugs serving as a reminder that trouble could find them anywhere. As they journeyed onward, Jaskier made a silent vow to think twice before spinning tales of imaginary treasures.

The bond between Geralt, (Y/N), and Jaskier had been tested once more, and they had emerged from the ordeal with a deeper understanding of the lengths they would go to protect each other.

Their path continued, each day bringing new challenges and adventures, and their unspoken connection remained a constant, a silent strength that bound them together in the face of whatever trials lay ahead.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#reader insert #x reader #gerat x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #Witcher #WitcherFanfiction #GeraltOfRivia #FantasyAdventure #PartnersInAdventure #HunterAndWitcher #JourneyTogether #MonsterHunter #StrongBonds #EpicFantasy #WorldOfMagic #UnbreakableTrust #ValiantHearts #TalesOfAdventure #PathOfValor

[zapreportsblog]

A New Future Beckons

➥ summary: Miguel never thought he would be a father again

➥ fluff

➥ one shot

In the sprawling metropolis of New York City, a sense of anticipation filled the air as Miguel O'Hara, the futuristic hero known as Spider-Man 2099, embarked on a new chapter of his life. As he stood beside his wife (Y/N), a mixture of emotions swirled within him—fear and excitement, uncertainty and hope. For within (Y/N)'s womb, a new life blossomed, and Miguel was about to become a father once again. This is the story of how Miguel navigated the complexities of impending fatherhood, balancing the weight of his responsibilities as a hero with the joy and trepidation of welcoming a new life into the world.

As the news of (Y/N)'s pregnancy settled upon them, Miguel's heart raced with a blend of emotions. Memories of his own upbringing and the tumultuous nature of his life as Spider-Man 2099 flooded his mind. Would he be able to provide the stable, loving environment his child deserved? Would he be able to shield them from the perils and dangers that came with his alter ego? The weight of these questions bore down upon him, a constant reminder of the responsibility that lay ahead.

Yet, amidst the apprehension, a wave of joy surged through Miguel's veins. He remembered the wonder of holding his firstborn, the pure love that emanated from their tiny form. Becoming a father had forever changed him, grounding him in the profound connection between generations. He longed to experience that once again, to witness the miracle of new life unfolding before his eyes.

Together, Miguel and (Y/N) embarked on the journey of pregnancy—the doctor's visits, the preparations, and the moments of anticipation. Each step brought them closer to the reality of becoming parents, and with every passing day, Miguel's heart swelled with an indescribable mix of love and trepidation.

As (Y/N)'s belly grew, so did Miguel's connection with their unborn child. He would often place a hand on her abdomen, feeling the gentle kicks and movements—a reminder that life was flourishing within. In those moments, a sense of awe washed over him, as he contemplated the miracle of creation and the immense responsibility he carried as a guardian of this new life.

But alongside the excitement, doubts lingered in the depths of Miguel's mind. Would he be able to balance his duties as Spider-Man 2099 with the demands of fatherhood? The world was a dangerous place, and the weight of protecting it from the shadows threatened to pull him away from the precious moments of raising his child.

However, Miguel soon realized that being a hero and a father need not be mutually exclusive. He saw the potential to inspire his child with tales of courage, resilience, and the belief in making the world a better place. The lessons he had learned throughout his journey as Spider-Man 2099 could serve as a guiding light for his child's own path, imparting a legacy of justice, compassion, and the pursuit of a better future.

In the bustling city of New York, the air was charged with a sense of anticipation and nervous excitement. Inside the sterile walls of the hospital, Miguel O'Hara, the legendary Spider-Man 2099, stood beside his wife (Y/N), their hands tightly clasped. The moment they had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—it was time for (Y/N) to give birth to their long-awaited child. Little did they know, however, that destiny had a surprise in store for them. This is the story of how Miguel's world was forever transformed when (Y/N) gave birth to twins—Gabriella and Isabella—an unexpected blessing that filled their lives with twice the love, joy, and challenges.

As (Y/N) was wheeled into the delivery room, Miguel's heart pounded in his chest, a blend of emotions flooding his being. The room buzzed with the hushed whispers of doctors and nurses, their reassuring presence providing a semblance of calm amidst the flurry of activity. Miguel stood by (Y/N)'s side, offering words of encouragement and support, his love and admiration for her unwavering.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the labor pains intensified, each wave bringing them closer to the moment of arrival. Miguel's eyes never left (Y/N)'s face, their gazes locked in a silent bond—a shared understanding of the journey they were about to undertake together.

And then, in a crescendo of pain and triumph, the first cries of their child filled the room. Miguel's heart soared as he caught sight of their newborn daughter, Gabriella. The world seemed to fade away as he held her in his arms, marveling at her delicate features and the profound sense of love that washed over him.

With trembling hands, Miguel placed a gentle kiss on Gabriella's forehead, whispering words of love and welcome. In that sacred moment, he knew that his life would forever be intertwined with hers—a bond that transcended the ordinary, forged through love and the shared connection of family.

As the doctors and nurses attended to (Y/N) and Gabriella, a hum of anticipation filled the room once again. Little did Miguel know that destiny had an extraordinary surprise in store for them. Another life awaited, eager to make its grand entrance into the world.

Minutes later, a second cry pierced the air, and Miguel's heart skipped a beat. He turned to see another tiny bundle in the arms of a nurse—a second daughter, Isabella. Tears of joy streamed down Miguel's face as he took her in his arms, her presence radiating with a unique sense of wonder and possibility.

In that moment, Miguel realized that their family had been blessed with not one, but two miracles. Gabriella and Isabella—two beautiful souls who would forever hold a special place in his heart. The room seemed to overflow with love, joy, and a sense of infinite possibility as Miguel held his daughters, their tiny hands grasping his fingers.

In the days that followed, Miguel and (Y/N) navigated the uncharted territory of parenting twins—a journey filled with sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and moments of pure wonder. Gabriella and Isabella brought a renewed sense of purpose and meaning to their lives, their presence creating a symphony of laughter and chaos that filled their home.

As Miguel watched his daughters grow, he marveled at their individuality—the unique qualities and personalities that began to emerge. Gabriella, with her vibrant spirit and insatiable curiosity, and Isabella, with her quiet grace and thoughtful nature. They were two sides of the same coin—forever connected by blood, love, and an unbreakable bond.

As the years passed, Miguel embraced the challenges and joys that came with raising twins. He discovered the delicate art of balancing his responsibilities as Spider-Man 2099 with the demands of fatherhood. It was a constant juggling act, a dance of duty and love that shaped him into a better man—a man his daughters could look up to with pride.

In Gabriella and Isabella, Miguel witnessed the power of love, resilience, and the unbreakable spirit that resided within each of them. They became his inspiration, his reason to continue fighting for a better world—a legacy of hope he hoped to impart upon them.

#spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #miguel imagine #spiderverse imagine #one shot #spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist

[vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

11. — heartbeat

As they often said: “Mortals have an infinite number of heartbeats.”

She knew she had one somewhere, deep down inside. Rarely had she been moved to feel it within her chest be it a pang of pain and loss or a quick flutter of the heart that often rode on lovely experiences. To love one’s kin? That was an obligation. Something she harbored. A love for a mother, a sister, a cousin, an aunt – the list went on. However, living in a house of horrors hadn’t exactly been a good atmosphere to learn such a feeling.

Sure, her heart did beat but only because it had to. Not that it had beaten for anyone else other than herself, save for one; soon to be three. Home is where she made it, not the stone walls of the Cress estate nor in the people she’d meet and hold on to throughout her life. It was odd, a sensation she had only felt once possibly twice when it came to someone outside of family and extended relations.

Once – not entirely sure how she got hooked into it, why six months of struggle and distance had caused the muscle in her ribcage to stir and thrum differently than it had before.

‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’

Perhaps, though nothing she would cling on to for dear life, she knew better. She knew that smart women never got ahead by being gilded by the concept of love. To love meant to be disappointed. Be it days, weeks, or years into the future, the outcome was inevitable – or so she thought.

How much longer until those around her where her thorns touched, would they endure before drifting away or finding other places to seek comfort in?

She knew she could never be comforting despite being known to try on some occasions.

Secure to provide protection, yes. There was no doubting or denying that but that warm, absolute, comforting love? She was a stranger to it.

Never. Too few times people had sought her hand and heart only to be left wanting. A disappointment to stain their soul, and none in which she ever cared to render aid to or fix a balm towards – cold, calculating, and unmoving. 

Perhaps all in all, it just boiled down to her simply having an unspoken distrust and dislike for men in general. Anyone who had to endure Adrian Cress certainly would have been left with such scars that stunted one’s emotional growth and to harbor a secret and unspoken hatred.

And so, in tandem with her own, two more heartbeats flourished within her, her body bearing the responsibility of keeping three bodies alive and well. She had heard their tiny heartbeats through little warbles from Dawn’s device and in that, she knew that within her there would be no room for repeating the past. 

The men in her life, romantically linked or not, were not Adrian Cress.

But that didn’t mean they’d not eventually fail her all the same.

#Thank you! #Asks #Inbox #IC reply #Stories #Blurbs #vahalia things! #{ ᴋɪɴᴅʟɪɴɢ ] // { ꜱʜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ɪɴ ꜱʏᴢʏɢʏ } #Kindling

[toonsurvival]

What If Bessie & Rainmaker we're Friends

On that Very Day when Rainmaker asked Bessie if she wanted to play Tic-tac-toe.

What if Bessie never tried to Harm Rainmaker with a Piano...

Rainmaker and Barnacle Bessie were unlikely friends. They met on a sunny day in Barnacle Boatyard when Rainmaker, a Introverted and Shy Cog, approached Bessie, the Lime Duck Toon, with an invitation to play tic-tac-toe.

Unlike their previous encounters in the Original Universe, Bessie didn't try to harm Rainmaker. Instead, she agreed to the game and found herself enjoying Rainmaker's company.

They laughed and strategized, their friendship blossoming with each X and O placed on the board.

As their friendship grew, Rainmaker confided in Bessie about the mistreatment she faced from both the Cogs and Toons. Despite not having a liking for fighting or harming others.

Rainmaker found herself caught in the crossfire of the constant war between the Cogs and Toons.

The Toons want to defend their home while the Cogs try to invade and steal stuff from them. However, Bessie was always there for Rainmaker, offering support and understanding like any good friend would.

Rainmaker drew strength from Bessie's presence. Even though her spirits were often tested, she learned to defend herself when necessary or quickly flee from danger.

Bessie, on the other hand, handled Rainmaker's struggles with caution and care, knowing the importance of maintaining their Friendship Secretly from the other Cogs and Toons.

Both of them, don't want to find out how would the Cogs and Toons react to their Friendship.

One day, Bessie stumbled upon a heartbreaking revelation. She discovered that Rainmaker had been battling suicidal thoughts and had attempted to end her own life multiple times, but had thankfully failed.

The weight of this discovery crushed Bessie, but she vowed to be there for Rainmaker and help her through her bad days and tuff times.

Bessie became increasingly worried about Rainmaker's deteriorating mental health, exacerbated by the toxic environment and oppressive Cog society they were surrounded by.

At the same time, Rainmaker began to fear for Bessie's safety, as the Cogs relentlessly attempted to steal legal documents from the lighthouse where Bessie lived. Time and again, Bessie would defend herself using her piano gags, desperately protecting their sanctuary.

Through all of their struggles, Rainmaker and Bessie's friendship remained unwavering.

They provided comfort and solace to one another, offering a safe space to cry, vent, and share their frustrations.

They often found solace in hanging out at the back of the lighthouse, a hidden spot known only to them. It was here that they played games, laughed, and simply enjoyed each other's company.

Sometimes, they'd venture to Mozzarella Styx Pizzeria, one of the few places they could blend in with their disguises. Rainmaker would transform her appearance to resemble a different cog, while Bessie wear a cog suit to stay incognito. It was during these outings that they felt a temporary respite from the hardships they faced.

On rare occasions, when the movie theater was deserted, Rainmaker and Bessie would sneak in. They relished in watching the latest movies and indulging in the snacks. For those stolen moments, they forgot their troubles and immersed themselves in the joys of a carefree friendship.

Rainmaker and Bessie became each other's pillars of strength, proving that even in the face of adversity, genuine friendship could flourish. With their unwavering support, they navigated the challenges that came their way, finding solace in the bond they shared and creating countless cherished memories together.

Hopefully it will Continue this way

Because they don't know what people will do to them, if they ever find out...

#toonblr #rainmaker #barnacle bessie

[abbatoirablaze]

Heaven's Demons, Chapter 40

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  mentions of violence, aggression, being stabbed, character death.

1 Year Later

Sweetie smiled, her boys celebrating their birthday while she held her two-month-old daughter.  The twins blew out their candles with the help of Jake and Steve, and the rest of the charter members and non-MC friends began clapping and cheering for the little boys who looked more and more like their father with every passing day.

Her heart fluttered in happiness, seeing everyone there.  Lee and Lauren had showed up with their son and Amelia.  She was newly pregnant and had a very large ring on her finger.  After Andy was put away, Lee fought to have custody of Amelia to make sure that she was with family, and ever since then they couldn’t be happier.

Ari had started dating Bucky’s little sister, Rebecca, one of Lauren’s teacher friends, while working down at the VA, helping other veterans find a creative outlet once they were out of the military.  While he wasn’t part of the MC anymore, he still talked with a lot of the guys, and had begun working towards a counseling degree and assisting with programs to help more veterans like himself.

Even Bucky had shown up, with year-long sober Charles on his arm.  While they had a hard time getting Charles away from Nigel, Bucky managed to provide a safe space for him to detox under the protection of the Junkyard Dogs, and by the end of it, the two men had found themselves falling in love with one another.  Bucky had someone to care for, and Charles found himself caring for the heavily neglected biker in such a way that Bucky flourished under his gaze.  The two of them had even talked about adopting a child together, and Bucky had finally moved out of the clubhouse and into an actual house with Charles. 

And while Steve, Jake, and Sweetie were happy with their little arrangement, Steve had decided that they needed to find a bigger house for their growing family.  So, while the party was at the clubhouse, Sweetie’s brother, and a few of the other guys had disappeared to move the stuff into a brand new house that Steve had purchased, with the hopes that once he got everyone home, and the kids to bed, that the three adults could begin christening it, and working on baby number four.  Because while he loved his boys, and Jake’s little addition, he found himself craving the idea of more kids around. 

He was becoming softer ever since their little arrangement started, and Jake and Sweetie had not only made a place in his heart, but they made Steve a calmer, better man who strived to make the MC more above-board. 

But the rest of the old charter was there.  Or most of them were, at least.  Lucas had managed to find love in a sweet butt and they were taking it slow.  He still held a lot of anger over losing Pixie, and when Steve had told him that he and Jake would be playing the role of the twins father now that he’d finally settled down, but Lee was a man of habit, and knew that he had nothing outside of the club. 

Alice and Jefferson had gotten back together after Johnny’s patch party, and Jefferson had become more protective than ever now that she was about to burst with their first child; a little girl.  Meanwhile, Johnny and Hellcat had a little boy, a few months before Sweetie, Jake, and Steve’s little girl was born. 

The only person who seemed to be missing from their little group was Sam, who unfortunately was unable to cope with the loss of his little librarian.  Steve did, however, give him a way out, and Sam ended up back in town with Ari, helping veterans at the VA.  He was still working through his own issues, but had been getting better, even through the refusal of coming to the twin’s party.

“Alright, what did you wish for?” Jake asked, playfully teasing the boys.

“Daddy that’s not how it works,” Dylan giggled, looking at him.  Then he looked at Steve, “dad, tell daddy that’s not how it works.”

“He’s right,” Steve smiled, winking at his boyfriend, “they tell you and it won’t come true.”

“I wished that the bad man was gone…that he stayed gone,” Mikey said quickly to his Steve, making his voice low enough that no one else could hear him, “that we were safe.”

Steve gave his son a soft look and patted his hair.  A few weeks ago, they caught sight of Andy on the news, and had been having nightmares as they overheard a trial was going to be happening, and they were worried that Andy would escape and come after their family.  But Steve sighed as he looked at the worried face of his son, a plan in motion so that his sons would never have to worry about Andy Barber ever again., “I promise buddy…we’re all safe…now you and your brother have some cake, okay?”

“And in breaking news, Thor Odinson, wanted for the murder of his brother has been located yesterday in the state of Nebraska,” the news anchor said.  Across the room, Andy looked up from his table to see a picture of Thor, and then a video of him being apprehended and loaded into a cruiser, “he’s been wanted in connection to the murder of his brother nearly a year ago, an up-and-coming politician who was looking to rebuild the city.”

“You’re in my spot.”

Andy looked behind himself to see a large man.  He was roughly the same size as him, but the guy looked worse for wear.  Andy narrowed his eyes, “Fuck off.”

The guy’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing as Andy turned back around. 

“Should really pay attention there, Barber.”

Andy’s eyes shot up to see someone all too familiar staring back at him.  His brow furrowed, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“They transferred me back home once they got me,” Thor grumbled, sitting down at the table.  Andy frowned, noting that Thor’s trademarked long hair had been snipped to a buzzcut, “gotta try me in the state that Loki met his end in…”

“But how are you here?”

“Funny story about that,” he chuckled.  Andy gasped as he felt a sharp prick in his back, right along his spine.  Then two more in quick succession leading up to his neck, before the final one settled right at the juncture of his neck and shoulders.  His hand reached up and he felt for the shiv, “Cap made me an offer, Barber…and after I learned about what you did to the others…bout what you set up…the rest of that shit didn’t matter…so I let them catch me…just so I could deliver a message to you…personally!”

The guard’s whistle blew, and they called for everyone to get down.  Andy fell backwards off his seat; his back hitting the cold concrete.  Thor raised his head ever so slightly as the blood pooled around his former president. 

“Every man bleeds, Barber.  We don’t kill women and we don’t kill children.  You destroyed our own as a means to control them…and that ain’t what the Heaven’s Demons are about!” Thor said firmly, “wish I could say I’m sorry brother…but I’m not.  It’s just a matter of survival.”

And as the light faded from Andy’s eyes and his body started to feel cold, he looked at the man who was still standing behind him.  The man claiming that Andy was in his seat.  And he caught the Heaven’s Demon’s mark along his forearm.  Rumlow’s face look like it’d been blown to hell and sewn back together. 

He almost didn’t recognize the member, but he didn’t need to.  He knew that it was a final message from Cap, telling him that he was done.

That it was game over for him and that he was never going to get out alive.

Tag list:  @lohnes16, @elbell20-blog, @stockholmdolly, @terrormonster55, @dontbescaredtosingalong, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#heavens demons #motorcycle clubs #mc #thor mcu #mcu #thor marvel #marvel au #avengers #steve rogers #jake jensen #the losers #the losers movie #the losers (2010) #the losers fanfiction #dark andy barber #andy barber #defending jacob #thor odinson #thor movies