#and sometimes life just gives you just that sometimes you can just have good things like it's nothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigfatbimbo · 2 days

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vees' collective dom but the one who just wants to live a peaceful life or something else that leads them to bonk (sometimes physically) vees off doing their villainous things. no, vox, you're NOT dealing with that deer tonight, we've agreed to watch a movie. no, val, you don't overwork your staff, it's fucking noisy. vel, don't you dare ever talk to other overlords like that again, it's risky

tbh, I had an image in my head about such reader complaining about vees' manipulations while some (another) punishment. like that vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful, so why not he put that stupid head of his to better use on your chest and nothing more. vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is. and val? wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit, so why he won't keep all of his hands to himself and try to be more romantic, sitting behind you, tied so well so he's only able to talk and he better do that

- 🦊

Basically a reader almost (definitely) manipulating the Vees into being less evil. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD!!!

So i’ve had very similar thoughts to this for a while and i’m going to tell you exactly why this would work. Quick lore drop about me but I used to be such a lowkey shady businessman (not explaining anymore than this, i’m healed) and let me just say, people like them are actually very easy to manipulate.

AKA greedy, power hungry, egotistical maniacs. What they do is terrible, thats no denying that, but they think very highly of themselves and their skills. So ‘stop abusing your employees’ not from a moral standpoint, but from a competence standpoint. That sells.

Like the whole “vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful” thing would absolutely work. It’s a hit against his ego and self competence, and because of the fragility in his facade, it would absolutely cause insecurity.

And reinforcing it with very rough, degrading, dumbifaction style sex would absolutely still have him thinking the next day. He’s sucking your tits or dick or something and you’re making comments like “Aw, look. A job you’re almost good at. Too bad that little head of yours can’t even think of anything useful to society.” Make him cry, you definitely can when it’s a knock at his intelligence and power.

“vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is.” Oh boy, I know this would get to her. Velvette thinks she’s hot shit, no, she knows she is. So now you’re overstimulating her and making fun of her because really? You had to use, even better, actually put time in to create a whole ass love potion, because not enough people wanted to fuck you?

She’d whine and tell you that’s not why, but come on. I mean, why be that hell bent on something so futile, we both know she’s not selfless enough to just give that away to virgin creeps all over pride. Oh Velvette, who’s came countless times and who’s pussy aches and has makeup running down her face, now has to her your call out on her confidence, and how it’s only boosted by her useless, forceful grab for others attention.

And Val, there’s so much ground to cover. “wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit.” Personal callout to his craft, which is clearly just as self indulgent as it is tiring. Your actors look so battered, Val. That’s not a good look, and isn’t that the point? Sex won’t sell if the people aren’t sexy, and that stars cracked lip is positively hideous.

There’s no intimacy, and you doubt someone as talentless as him can even achieve romance. So now he’s tied up on the bed, barely able to move as you sit across from him, not just bored, but reading a book or scrolling on your phone. He’s practically crying out cliche, used lines to romance you, and failing miserably when the whine creeps in.

So basically, the angle with Vox is his fragile power, Velvettes her unimpressive beauty, and Valentino is the implication of him not having a grasp on sex. Oh also fucking them to drill it in their head. Because what, people? Something that impacts the control over their work-life and sex-life will stick. Sex and power go hand and hand when the greedy are lustful.

Now are the results?

Well, Vox would make a show of making more useful products, and still use hypnosis, obviously he’s a shitbag, but there’d be a new level of self-hatred that comes with it, meaning it’d happen less.

Well, Velvettes is a little harder to just… take back as the product is already out there. However, the product promotion goes down ever so slightly because yes, money and power is great, but you’ve done something no one can do. Embarrassed our confident queen.

Valentino actually thinks before hitting an employee to hard, and actually lets actors have conversations because apparently people should have… chemistry? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want his porn to be boring or not sexy. His other issue (assault, i’m talking about assault) is not resolved he just leaves less marks.

You’ve successfully watered down a problem for a long-term (but not permanent) period of time. This could be even longer if also plant the idea of falling from power in their head.

Simply “What were you before an overlord? A sinner. What are your employees? Sinners. If you treat these employees to harshly, what will they do? Rebel. To successfully keep and manipulate your power you need your workers to feel more than obligation, but loyalty to you. Not your company or their job. You. Otherwise, keep in mind how other overlords have fallen.”

If you ever try this from a morality standpoint, it won’t work. The angle is power, people, because they will never stop being abusive for the right reasons. However, your domineering behavior in bed has earned you an amount of respect.

I fear I sounded evil in this um… never have this mindset for people who aren’t corrupt evil rapists. Also, I don’t think I talked about the smut aspect enough sorry, I just love character analysis. OH ALSO I haven’t been a sinister salesman since I was 16, everybody, calm down. Everyone has an angle though!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #sub vees

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elllisaaa · 3 days

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loved the bf!beomgyu!!! <3 could you perhaps do bf!taehyun as well? :)

the bf!txt agenda is not doing any good for my delulu hours but here we go !!

BF!TAEHYUN who is not the most talkative, but that is the most caring and observant boyfriend ever.

for example, he knows exactly what your coffee order is, he knows what your favourite snacks are, and he knows which song from your long ass playlist on spotify is your favourite. and these are things you don't even have to tell him, just because he always has an eye on you, and because he wants you to feel like a princess. and that's how taehyun makes you feel everyday. whenever you need something, bet he would hand you his card so you can pay for it. and don't even think about paying something for yourself or the both of you when you two are going out. but that's just because he wants to treat you like the queen you are.

"oh and i left my card for you on the kitchen counter, since you're going out with your friends this afternoon. i know you will do some shopping so get yourself something nice for our date tonight angel."

even if you don't workout, taehyun will bring you to the gym with him. he doesn't need you to do anything else than be there for him. it's maybe not what some would call quality time, but it is for both of you, especially when his schedule is so packed. he steals some kisses between his sets, lets you vent to him about your annoying coworkers, and smiles everytime you take his towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. and yes, he also loves it when you gush over his muscles and how strong he is. he's often the one praising you, and when you compliment him, he always finds a way to turn it back and fluster you. so sometimes, you make it your life mission to make him blush instead. and he lets you do so because you have him wrapped around your finger.

"you're very pretty today angel." - "but you're prettier tae, the prettiest boy in the world." - "what did i do to deserve you ?"

you know that your boyfriend sometimes struggles to talk about his emotions and feelings, and you're always here for him no matter what. but when he finally opens up to you, he's never backing up. everytime he feels bad or tired we would've kept it to himself and stayed alone before. but now, after a long day at work, all he wants is to come back home to you and hold you close to him. sometimes he needs to tell you everything that happened, and sometimes he just needs you to soothe him into your embrace. either way, he feels the most at ease, the most loved when he's close to you. in the mornings after these nights, he wakes up before you to make you breakfast as a thank you, even if you insist that he doesn't need to and that it's your job as his girlfriend. but the princess treatment never ends with taehyun, and he will never take you for granted.

"just eat angel, i did it because i wanted to and because i love you."

BF!TAEHYUN who pays for everything just so he can literally ruin you for any other men when you come back home.

because the reason he let you borrow his card to pay for your hair, your nails and your clothes, has some ulterior motives. he loves it when you're all dolled up for him, when you take up so much time to look even better than usual for him. he especially loves it when you're wearing skirts or dresses, because it gives him an easier access for when he bends you over the couch and fucks you from behind. he loves it when your makeup runs down your face because you're crying from how good he's making you feel. taehyun loves it when your hair are all tangled and messy because he's tugging on them when you're sucking on his cock. and he loves it when he sees the scratching marks your brand new nails he payed for had left on his back.

"that's it princess, cry for me. feels good ? i know it does."

taehyun is always willing to give you everything you want in bed, as long as you're good for him and doing everything he's telling you to. one of his favourite ways to torture you a little is by edging you. you can choose how he's pleasing you - his mouth, fingers or cock, whatever you want, he'll give it to you - but you have to warn him every time you're close, and he'll stop. and when he finally lets you cum, he's telling how proud of you he is, how good you are for him, and how good he's gonna fuck you as a reward. and he does fucks you good, so good you're going dumb and can only whine and cry out for him.

"my good girl, i'm gonna take care of you, hm ? gonna reward my angel."

but when you're not following his orders, or when you decide to be a brat and act out, he has no other choice but to discipline you, right ? his go to punishment is to bend you over his lap and spank you. taehyun makes you count each slap he gives you, finding it cute how red the skin of your ass gets with each new one. he loves it when you stumble over your words, moaning and crying out when he slaps your butt one more time. each time, you take your punishment so well he cannot do anything else than rewarding you with his cock, because after all, you're his princess and he just wants to give you the best. and obviously, he loves it when you're all cute and innocent, but the best moment is when you become nasty and desperate for him and he gets to lovingly degrade you.

"my pretty little slut, acting like a saint and whoring yourself out for my cock."

#eli answering your questions #eli's anonie #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #taehyun smut #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #taehyun x reader

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veren-cos · 1 day

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Asking out the Bachelors (SDV)

x disabled!reader

You presented him with a bouquet. But before he could speak, you interupt. "Now before you say anything!" He looks at you confused. "I want you to know before you make any big decisions that I am disabled. I get around fine enough, I mean, I can handle my farm and all. But some days it's rough. And I won't be able to. I might not have the energy for anything. I really- Really -like you, but I don't want to be hurt down the line because you can't deal with this." You put your heart on the line and awaited his response.

All Bachelor's below the cut

Harvey

• Gives you a big ol' hug

• Probably cries a little because he is so happy that you asked him out

• Hopes you don't notice

• You definitely do, but don't say anything because-how cute is he!

• The two of you just stay there for a second, because it's not like you can really move when you are trapped in a hug

• "Dear, having a disability is no big thing. So you need a little extra support sometimes. I am your man!"

• Literally will go to the ends of the Earth to help you when things are acting up

• When you go into more detail about it, he knows a lot already! (Duh he is a doctor)

• But he will do a lot more research about the specifics once you leave.

• He stays in that hug for a really long time before realizing that he never actually accepted your bouquet and becomes a bit of a flustered mess

• You think he is adorable

Sam

• As much as he likes to think he is sooooo cool, he is so happy that he just gives you a double thumbs up and a dopey grin

• He says, "Farmer you don't know how happy this makes me!"

• Invites you into his house to talk about things more, and plucks around his guitar while doing so.

• He doesn't know crap about disabilities, besides adhd and a few more common ones.

• But he is willing to learn!

• The two of you actually have a really long heartfelt conversation about it.

• Lots of hugs.

• Like he cannot get over the fact that you are dating now.

• Maybe a makeout session if the mood feels right?

Sebastian

• Kinda just stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time

• You have no idea what he is thinking, and frankly neither does he.

• His brain is frying at the fact that you like him back.

• And then he is also panicking at the fact that you think he won't like you because of something you can't change!

• Grabs your hands once he snaps out of it, startles both of you

• "Yes!" He somewhat shouts, "yes! Yoba, I swear. I care for you and nothing about you will change that."

• Proceeds to just hold your hands and blush because OHMYGOSHMYCRUSHLIKESMEANDIJUSTTOLDTHEMILIKETHEMAND-

• Later when you talk about your disability more, he recognizes the name from late night internet browsing, and will do whatever he can for you when things get bad.

• Like Sam, there is a lot of communication about how he can help because he isn't well informed

Alex

• Literally picks you up???

• Idk he is weird (it's okay we still love him)

• Like holds you bridal style and gives you a big smooch on your cheek

• Will do his best to learn how to help!!!

• He doesn't care you have a disability

• Absolutely will take care of your farm and animals if need be

• When he sets you down he gives you an actual kiss

• The two of you talk about everything

• Shows up at your farm the next day after talking to Harvey

• He wanted to learn a bit more about helping people with disabilities, now having two important people in his life that have them! (You and George)

• Overall he'd be really good about it once he got going

Shane

If he was sober at the moment

• "We all have our problems, and yours is nothing."

• "I'm shocked you want to go out with me, but remember, this was your idea!"

• Aka, he tried to act all tough but when you look at his face, he is just a softy

• He has a slight blush on his face

• He is so happy you trusted him enough to tell him your personal business

• Won't be perfect by any means at helping when things get hard, but he tries

If he was drunk at the moment

• "I'm not dealing with that."

• And then he walks away.

• Regrets it so much when he sobers up but the damage was done

• If you felt that he deserved another chance it wouldn't be for a long time

• If you get together later, every time things flare up he just feels so guilty.

Elliott

(Apologies in advance for possibly being out of character. He is the one I know the least about-)

• Similar to Alex ngl (kinda?)

• He smiles at you, places his hand at the nape of your neck, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek

• Let's his head rest on your forehead for a few moments before accepting your bouquet

• Gives you a gentle kiss

• Will learn all of the things to know about your disability

• Makes sure you check in with Harvey about it whenever things get bad

• Will make you soup :) he knows it won't 'fix' anything, but he doesn't know when else to do when people aren't feeling good

• It's cute

• Will gives you cuddles after he accepts the bouquet, and makes sure to talk to you about what you need.

• He tells you, "nothing can change the way I feel about you. You are the light of my life." (Or some fancy poetry that idk how to write)

This is the first thing I've written that I've posted, so please lmk if I made a typo or something!!! And let me know if you want me to elaborate on any prompt. Or give me a prompt! I will be posting more, I just have to edit them.

(Thank you to my friend for proofreading if you see this)

Also I mostly write x reader, which I am down to make weirdly specific. Mostly fluff or hurt/comfort, but I am down for almost anything so if you have any fic you want written, lmk!!! I might not get to it for a while because, life, but we'll see! Hope you had fun reading, sorry for the long outro-

(Edited Alex's, thanks for pointing out George is disabled!)

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tac-the-unseen · 2 days

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Gifts the slashers would enjoy

Fluff

Minor updates for formatting

Micheal Myers:

•Arts and crafts supplies

-He's enjoyed making Paper Mache masks most of his life. It's very likely that he enjoys other forms of art as well, but couldn't express that in the ward for fear it would be taken away.

-Dr. Loomis sucks

-Giving him art supplies now, would end up in him making his art in secret. He feels embarrassed to like such a simple thing. That shame is intensified if you ask to see it. He'll end up leaving it out so you can see it without directly showing it to you

•Candy Corn, circus peanuts, and Crunch bar.

-Are they his favorite? No. But they bring back good memories, and for Michael, that's enough.

-would spend a good chunk of time snaking on the sweets while you spend time with him

-Can be bribed into a lot of shenanigans with candy

•Homemade meal

-He rarely had anyone make him dinner. His mom being a ‘working’ woman ment that he had to fend for himself come dinnertime.

-Knowing that you wanted to, and found time to make him dinner make him feel that icky (Nice), bubbly feeling in the center of his chest

-minor Headcannon: first time this happened Micheal thought he was having a heart attack.

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Horror movie merchandise

-Their collectors. If you manage to get your hands on something they don't have, they'll give you anything you want in return.

-will trip over themselves trying to replay you

-Stu would actually kiss the ground you walk on if you ask

•Jewelry

-They both appreciate necklaces, bracelets, and RINGS

-Stu is a gold guy, Billy is a sliver guy.

-They’re like crows. Anything shiny will end up in their pockets. Imagine Stu showing off his rings like a newly proposed to woman. Fawning over the design and/or jewels.

•knives/knife sharpener

-They collect knives of different quality and look

-they better ones they use to hunt. The best ones and the weaker ones are put on display like trophies.

-No matter the quality you get, it's the fact it came from you but they care about

Thomas Hewitt:

•Flowers

-Thomas is a sucker for old ‘traditional’ romantic actions

-Seeing you hold up hand-picked flowers makes his heart gush. He thinks you look so precious, wanting to make him happy.

-sometimes he'll catch you, out of a window, picking flowers just so you can give it to him. He'll never tell you, and will always act surprised when you present the bouquet.

•Bones

-its simple and an abundant resource at the house. There's always bones somewhere, and Thomas knows how to use the bones

-They’re good for making repairs, as tools, and as decorations

-You 10000% have a bone bracelet that Thomas made for you when you guys started to get more serious

•Desserts

-Thomas won't admit it, but he has a sweet tooth. Why do you think Luda mae spends so much time baking?

-While a good pie is enough to send this man to his knees, any other baked good will do.

-He likes cherries and strawberries, but because of how expensive they are he doesn't tell anybody that it's his favorite. He doesn't want anybody ‘wasting’ money or resources on him.

Bubba Sawyer:

•Flowers

-Bubba loves flowers. Any kind of flowers is enough for him to let out squeals of happiness. He loves seeing them around the farm, and plants them around the house when he has spare time.

-So when you go to town and come back with a bouquet of flowers just for him, nearly crushed you with hugs.

-Keeps them alive for as long as possible then perseveres them in notebooks and in salt

•Quilting supplies

-Bubba is really good at handling leather. Those human skin masks are hard to make, and human leather is so incredibly delicate.

-On top of that, he is a family man. He want to make things that help his family. So he makes blankets!

-its a fine craft and perfect in enhancing his skills.

•Good old quality time

-He loves spending his time with you! If he could spend all day with you, he would.

-So sitting down and cuddling means that absolute world to him. He cherishes his time with you and it what he looks forward to everyday. It's why he wakes up in the morning. It's why he tries hard everyday. He wants to spend every day starting and ending with you!

Bo Sinclair:

•Tools

-If your in the workshop often enough, you'll know what ends replacing.

-Bo is as stubborn as stubborn comes, so he won't get new tools until they physically can't do their job anymore.

-If you get him new tools he will begrudgingly take them, but after an hour or two he'll find you just so he can thank you ‘properly’.

•Cigarettes

-The boy smokes

-Don’t know what else to tell you

-Will kiss you when you give it to him though

•Kids Toys

-Sounds weird, but having his childhood taken away from him leaves him wanting to fill up the gaps.

-when looking through a victim's car you found a two handed water ring-toss toy. when you showed Bo He just rolled his eyes and kept working on his Truck. You started playing with it when at the shop, even leaving it there on a few occasions. Every time you left it there, He would take it and sneak into the back room of the shop to play with it.

-it brought him immense joy. One day he forgot to put it back, and when you asked about it he berated you for losing your things and expecting him to keep track of your belongings. He never told you, and would rather die than admit it.

Vincent Sinclair:

•Art/craft supplies

-Its a given, really

-He very rarely get new art supplies (if you don't count corpses) so it’s nice to get replacements.

-Will take anything you give him, honestly

•Books

-Vincent isn't always making art. Sometimes art can get boring for him, or he hits a rough patch and doesn't know where to go from there.

-A book can easily help, Whether it's just something else to do or it helps him overcome his art block. He will oftentimes get up from his work space and find another spot to sit down and read.

-He loves it when you read to him. It's nice to just listen to something while you work.

•Hoodies

-with his combination of body issues and wanting to be cozy, A hoodie seems to be the best option.

-Even though it is hot in Louisiana, The cool basement and even cooler nights need a little warmth.

-loves the feeling of the softer cloth and with it being a present, makes it all the better.

Lester Sinclair:

•Lip balm

-Lester has a hard time with hygiene. No one ever really taught him how to take care of himself.

-So when you notice Lester had chapped lips and gave him some lip balm something in his brain short circuited. The fact that YOU want to help him, makes his heart swell.

-keeps it in his pocket and constantly reapplies it

•Car freshener

-Even with him blind to the smell of death, the hot Louisiana sun will intensify the foul smell 10 fold. You knew it was bad when you could smell the truck before you could see or hear it.

-You ran out of town and bought several packs of air fresheners for his truck. You told him that you do love him, just not the smell that lingers when he gets home from work. Lester doesn't want to make you gag every time he gets into bed with you.

-He likes the Strawberry, sugar cookie, and fresh linens scent best

•Dinner

-He’s not the ‘I better come home to a hot plate of dinner' kind of guy, but he really appreciates it when he does. Even though Bo is a semi-good cook, anything after years of having it will get boring.

-Having you cook for him (and most likely his brothers) is a nice change of pace.

-Will eat anything you cook. Whether it's ‘good’ or ‘bad’ he will happily eat it all.

Billy Lenz:

•Being read too

-Isn’t a physical present but he loves your voice. He wants to read but has A) a hard time focusing and B) has a hard time reading in general

-Having you read to him calms him down and gets him settled enough to sit still and/or do an activity smoothly

-Reading to him 100% makes him fall asleep in the end. And boy does this insomniac need it

•Crochet equipment

-After learning how to Crochet he can't stop. He runs through String like a mad man. He has made you 6 sweaters and increasing in quality over time

-Will give you a list of all the colors he wants and will wait patiently on your bed for you to come back.

-Gets ridiculous excited when he's given new supplies. Will be your lap dog for weeks after

•String lights

-Doesn't have to be Christmas themed, he just really likes the lights. Like a moth drawn to flames.

-likes to fall asleep with them on, it's like Billy’s own big night light.

-Has gotten too close to them and accidentally ripped them down. He tried to hide them so he didn't get in trouble, and actually cried when you found out.

Brahms Heelshire:

•Clothes

-You wondered why his clothes were so ill-fitting for a long time before you realized, that's his dad's old clothes.

-coming to that realization you manage to figure out his proper size and (after some minor fighting) when out to get him a much needed upgrade. When you came home he was waiting by the door, waiting for you. Giving him his new clothes was like telling him you would never leave again, he was ecstatic. He ripped the bags out of your arms and ran into his room so he could try them on

-He fell in love with the sweaters you got him, with a nice couple pairs of khakis. It wasn't much of a transition from his old clothes but that's just what he likes.

•Movies/Movie night

-The only movies he's seen are from his childhood, and he can barely remember them. His parents didn't think movies were healthy for a growing boy, so they only allowed him books to pass the time

-When you proposed a movie night he had a couple questions and even a bit of hesitation. “What if they melt my brain?” He asked with genuine concern. After you posed another question back “Why wouldn't they have melted my brain yet?” Did he trust you.

-You started with childhood classics before getting into the more ‘adult’ stuff. He loved every minute of it

•Picnics

-While Brahms isn't a fan of going outside, the garden is the only exception. You wanted him to go outside because orange juice can only do so much for a vitamin D deficiency.

-He said the only way he would go outside was if you had a Picnic and put his sunscreen on. Making sandwiches with chips and then lathering him in 80 SPF he went outside in a tank top layered with a crocheted vest and shorts, had him outside fairly quickly

-Now he wants a picnic every summer

Hannibal Lecter:

•Wine

-After dating for a while you started to notice where Hannibal got his expensive foods and wines

-you also noticed what he actually liked and what he was just experimenting with. While fruity and floral flavors were always favored, herbs and Nutty wines were much lower on his list.

-With that in mind you got a Cherry lavender wine from Greece. When you gave it to him he was actually shocked you were paying attention to his preferences. He told you most people just buy cheap wine and expect him not to notice.

-The wine you picked out now has a permit spot saved on his wine shelf.

•Paper bouquet

-Paper made into the shape of different flowers all wrapped up in another paper tying it all together. It's cute, classy (though he would never display it openly), and will never wilt!

-He had told you about the complexity of life using flowers as an example and how they wilt. So you decided to make flowers that can't wilt to not only sass him but to give him something

-He put them in a paper vase he made (in only what you can assume was) in his free time.

•Friendship bracelets

-What was originally a gag gift turned out to be one of his favorite gifts.

-You thought there was no way in hell THE Hannibal Lecter would wear cheap bright string woven together, but you were wrong.

-You had made some friendship bracelets out of old string you found in some old stuffed away box and laughed at the idea of Hannibal finding it in his desk drawer. So you did just that, just to come to the shocking realization that during a meeting with the F.B.I he was wearing it, hidden under his sleeve. You had a very hard time containing your laughter that night.

Will Graham:

•Quality time with you!

-Life has always been stressful for Will. So some alone time with you is always a great gift.

-No need for fancy dinners, events, or holidays. Just sitting down to watch whatever pops up on the T.V screen is enough for him.

-Bonus points if the pack joins in for a cuddle session!

•Handwritten letter(s)

-Having a man with a different then most emotional attachment style is hard. Will might not always what to be physically touched or poked at. Sometimes he doesn't even want to talk (Common coping mechanism for Autistic people)!

-But even when he gets like this, it's still nice to get some reassurance. You started writing him little notes around the house a while ago and slowly you noticed Will’s mood improving significantly.

-He found it very sweet that you were taking the time to meet him on a level he was comfortable with. The two of you don't speak about it often but the notes persist.

•New fishing gear

-anything fishing related is always an appreciated

-New lears, poles, vests, hooks, bait even. Anything even if he already has it, he will take it happily

-He’ll take you fishing with his new gear you got him and will happily teach you if you don't know how to fish

The Lost Boys:

•Jewelry

-All four vamps love jewelry of any kind

-All of them have earrings, bracelets, and necklaces so why not give them Something they can say they got from their S/O!

-David and Marko prefer bracelets, David’s gloves wouldn't mesh well with rings, and he thinks a necklace might make him seem less intimidating. Marko would chew on a necklace and worse could get caught during a fight. Rings would be damaged either due to said fighting and/or his painting. Bracelets are that perfect in-between!

-Dwayne and Paul like Rings for different reasons. For Dwayne Rings have that ‘marriage’ aspect to them. Not to say rings mean marriage, but historically speaking…it's like putting your claim on him and he's thriving for that.

-Paul likes rings to fidget with. He already has rings he uses as ways to occupy his hands when something or someone isn't. Will 100% show off his ring you gave him to the others.

•Gift boxes

-The boxes full of pictures, candy, and other meaningful things

-They all go feral over those boxes, especially the first ever box. It was filled with your own little doodles, candy you know they like, mini bottles of whiskey, and a note telling them about how much you care about them and where to meet you for the night.

-if you plan to do this more often make sure each boy gets to keep something or they WILL fight over it.

•ScrapBooks

-Memories bunch up and fade when you're a vampire. They can't always remember the little things, so having a book of all those memories they can look back at is great idea!

-You even found a creative way to include them in pictures! They can't be seen in photos, but they're shadows can! You take pictures under street lamps and make silly poses. You have a picture of Paul dramatically falling into Marko's arms while Dwayne and David kiss either side of your face.

-All those silly pictures combined with your and Marko’s creativity ends up in some fun, colorful, memories

Thanks for reading <3

(You know I write a fuck ton when It started glitching out. Like it would freeze while I was formatting it correctly 😭)

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ackerfics · 16 hours

Text

my love is mine all mine ch 3 | toji fushiguro x female reader

part one of to the girls who are failed by the narrative series.

series summary:

'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapter title: the answer will be an echo: why did you do this?

warnings: the zen'in clan.

Your sister inherited the Joushou clan’s cursed technique.

It’s an announcement that has any member of your family reeling. What a waste, they say. This could have been phenomenal if not for the sex of the child. What good would a woman have if they assume the position of heir to a powerful clan that owns shrines of purification for generations? And with the head’s reluctance in re-marrying another pitiful woman, there is no chance that a son will be celebrated, which brings you at this moment—holding your little sister who was given the role of the heir a few months ago. It’s something that you have to accept for you have no ability to create a field of reversed cursed technique that can nullify any nearby techniques.

Four years have gone and your sister celebrated four birthdays with only you and a couple of loyal maids by her side. Your father, being the head of the clan, has growing paperwork and responsibilities on top of his desk with the passing years. Now older, your father has been scrambling with marriage proposals from other clans, all vying to have you in their hold — their riches on his table.

A wife. Pliant, obedient, meek, poised, virtuous; are some of the traits expected of you. They are drilled in your head every time you have lessons with your current tutor, a lady from one of the Joushou branch households, one Lady Yukina. Despite the harshness of the lessons she brings, she might be the only old lady who has never looked at you with disdain. Her gaze fills with understanding and sometimes sympathy when she reminds you that you have to be a woman fit for the jujutsu society.

You have long since understood that even with a title to your name, you are not safe from the whims of men. You remain as a piece in their games, meant to be broken when Time and Fate are not merciful to your soul. You know it—after all, your mother has lived long enough to tell the tale.

The Hanamo clan has always stood as the harbinger of a new generation of sorcerers, as the historians so love to write about in their scriptures.

The ancestry flowing in your veins is proof that you will always be tied to the workings of the jujutsu world, that you will be a slave to the norms delegated by the higher-ups who uphold the traditions of time immemorial. It continues to resemble the essence of your existence. Without it, you are nothing but a husk—tossed aside for lacking purpose. To put it bluntly, you don’t want to be a wife if it means having a life lived by your mother. You are older now and aside from gaining marriage proposals, you have gained this awareness that not even your father can prevent. You wish to enjoy what they call middle school. At your age, you can’t help but think that maybe you could have been a senior. You want to join clubs, stay at school after classes, or go to cram school because you want to enter a prestigious high school. You long to experience staying up late and getting confession letters in lockers—feel the giddiness stolen glances in a room brings.

However, since Fate is not kind to girls like you, you are stuck here letting the wind carry your thoughts.

“Onee-chan!”

“Hmm?”

You are drawn to reality at the sound of your precious little sister’s voice.

“What is it, Tiny?”

She giggles, teeth showing and eyes crinkling in happiness at the syllables of her nickname from you. The little girl of four bounds over to the picnic blanket that you are sitting on, the constricting material of the kimono around her figure preventing her from running too wildly. You carefully watch her, your arms stretching out and torso leaning forward when she nearly topples to the ground. The sigh of relief your chest has been holding is let out when she is secure in your arms, which is then followed by a small huff since she has been getting bigger. The little girl in your embrace places her chin on your chest, her pudgy cheeks pressing against you. “Onee-chan’s sadness, go away. I don’t want Onee-chan to be sad.”

You hum, your smile mirroring hers. “Why would I be sad when I have the cutest, most special girl in my arms?”

She squeals when your fingers start tickling her sides.

“Onee-chan, no!” Her voice is being carried by the wind, gleefully intermingling with the melody of the breeze. “Stop it!”

Laughter continues to bubble in your throat. A huge surge of warmth prompts you to lean down to press your forehead against your sister’s. “Why would I be sad when I get to see the most precious thing smile and laugh?” You nuzzle your nose on her hair. She always smells of something citrus and sweet, a combination fitting for the reason behind your smiles. “Tiny, your existence is enough to drive the sadness away. Nothing can make me shed tears if you’re here by my side.”

“Did Mama feel like that about me?” The slightest falter in your demeanour is unnoticed by your sister. “Ah! I didn’t mean to make Onee-chan sad again.”

“What?” You breathe out. You try painting a smile on your lips. “I’m not sad.”

“You are!” She retorts with an adorable scrunch on her nose. “The flowers never lie, Onee-chan! They always lose their colour when you’re sad.” You don’t even have to ask how your sister knows about your connection with the flowers in the garden because she continues explaining in a tone that is awfully similar to Father when he was still instilling the ways of the clans in you when you were a child. “Aida-san told me that Mama’s family speaks to flowers. I know Onee-chan can speak to them, too, and just like me, they feel sad when Onee-chan is sad.”

“I do have a smart girl for a baby sister,” you muse, running your hand through her hair. “Yes, Mama could speak with any kind of plant you can think of and I know that your existence is something she asked for; she prayed every night for you to be here. You are her precious little dewdrop—I know it because the flowers told me so. Mama talked to them while she was carrying you in her tummy, you see.”

“Was she happy when she had me?”

The smile on your face never dims. “ Super happy,” you make sure to emphasise the first word.

“Were you happy?”

“The happiest big sister in the world.”

“I’m happy you’re my big sister, too!”

Your bottom lip wobbles, quickly hiding it by burying the toddler back into your arms. “You’re so cute, Tiny! Ah,” you sigh out, “I don’t ever want you to grow up; I want you to stay this little forever.” Your tiny dewdrop that you can carry in your arms forever, a place where she truly belongs and will remain untainted by the world revolving around you two.

“But I want to grow up!”

This surprises you. “Why, Tiny?”

She beams, “Because I get to be with you more! You’re always away with Papa and I’m all alone. If I’m grown up, I will be by your side more often.”

You give her a rueful smile. Your hand perfectly cups the side of her head as if both are puzzle pieces fitted with each other. “I can’t wait to see you in the future; but for now, I’ll cherish you like this. Because you want to know a little secret?” The smile on your face grows at the sparkles lighting up your baby sister’s eyes. They seem to gleam like jewels within a pool of moonlight. The hand cupping her face transfers to cover her ear, your voice dropping into a whisper purely for the two of you to hear—not even the flowers can be a witness to your little secret. “Nothing in this world truly belongs to me except my love for you, owner of my heart and my tiny dewdrop. You are the one gift Mother gave to me and I don’t know what I’d do if you slip from my fingers too soon. Let me love you as my baby sister and let Time pass by the way it always does. Alright?”

A sheen then covers your sister’s eyes as she stares at you in pure, adulterated emotions that a four-year-old like her can muster.

“I love you so much, Tiny—always remember that, okay?”

She meekly nods, your words flustering her cheeks in a faint surge of heat. “I love you, too, Onee-chan.”

It’s you two against the entire world. Despite how the circumstances bring you your sister, you will never love her any less. You may have familial burdens to carry on your poised shoulders, they don’t include the most precious treasure to you at the moment.

The moment is shattered when the flowers slightly express their disappointment before you can sense the pattern of footsteps behind you.

“Ojou-sama, Lord Yoshiki is summoning you to his office,” Aida, a maid that you have grown quite fond of through the years, tells you, her head low like the head maid has taught her during her initiation—always show reverence to the members of the main family; they are your benefactor, your salvation, your puppeteers.

“Did he say why, Aida-san?” You pry from her, your arms still around the girl nestling on your lap.

The woman shakes her head. “No, Ojou-sama. But if it helps ease your mind, he is not in a troubled mood.” A knowing glint sparks her eyes as she trails them on the swaying vermillion blades dancing by her feet.

“Very well,” is all you offer to her as a response. You turn to your baby sister, who is already pouting at the thought of spending the rest of her afternoon in solitude. “Tiny, I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” She is looking at you like she’s begging for you not to leave her alone and that alone nearly shatters your resolve. As the only child aware of the workings of the clan, you must attend to Father’s summons. Your sister will have this role in the future but for now, even with no shed of the Joushou’s cursed technique in your veins, you should do your duty. So, you carefully lift her from your lap before settling her feet on the grass. “I promise we’ll eat your favourites later.”

“And watch Sanrio?”

The smile on your face grows. Ah, your obsession with that cartoon and its characters; it’s purely the reason why your sister adores the white long-eared puppy as well. You, yourself have developed a liking toward the hooded bunny and the golden retriever characters. “And watch Sanrio,” you echo after her.

“Yay!” She cheers, her hands high in the air and her smile bright enough to illuminate an abyss.

You let go of her small hands before turning around to face the maid sent to escort you to where Father is. “Take me to him, Aida.”

“As you wish, Ojou-sama.”

The walk is silent—you can even hear the grating of the wood against a sudden gust of wind, bringing the scent of cherry blossoms in the air.

Ah, it's spring without your mother again.

You remember watching her work wonders in the gardens during this lucky season of the year. The pinks the entire world is waiting to sprout are sitting on top of Mother’s palms, the small spark of her cursed technique speaking with the roots and the trunks until all you can see are raining petals of cherry and plum blossoms. You never once looked forward to spring again after her passing. But there is an undeniable clench in your chest when you think about your baby sister never sharing the same enthusiasm about that season; she doesn’t get to press her face on the glass windows at her age every time spring knocks on your household’s door.

The scent of the flowers die down when the shoji doors to Father’s office slide open.

“You called for me, Father?”

The image of your father has long since dwindled. He was never the same again since the death of Mother. The elders have always expressed their bafflement at him refusing another proposal to be remarried. The clan needs male heirs, they say, one that can withstand even the next strongest sorcerer to be born. His previous impeccable appearance is replaced by a rugged man with the constant presence of stubbles and hastily tied hair. There are no elaborate kimonos; instead, he is often dressed in rather simple hakamas, but that doesn’t betray his station. He is still the head of the Joushou clan, the only clan to have ever survived the Domain Expansion of the recorded strongest sorcerer across centuries.

Father doesn’t look up from his paperwork. “You are dismissed,” he directs the words to the maid who escorted you.

You flash Aida an imperceptible smile right after she bows her head as lowly as she can without toppling over. Her footsteps are silent and she leaves behind you and the man who will decide your fate.

“Who is it this time?” You still fix your eyes on the hardwood panels of the floor.

The sigh that comes out of Father amounts to the weight he carries after reading the papers on his hand. He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he fishes out an unsealed piece of paper from a nearby stack and throws it on the table.

You walk to the edge of his desk to catch a glimpse of the sender. Something pulses inside you at the implications the letter’s seal brings. You know it’s inevitable to be tied to this family and you have long accepted it but that doesn’t prevent the trepidation clogging your throat. “The Zen’in?”

After you make it real by uttering the syllables of their name, Father pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows scrunched in an uneasy exhibition of pain. “I’m sure you remember that Zen’in Ougi’s wife died a few months before.” Your silence is an enough answer for Father to continue. The memory of attending the funeral is still fresh in your mind and there’s no mistaking the reeking disappointment coming from the clan elders of the Zen’in. Another wife gone; another chance for a holder of the Ten Shadows lost. “They want you as his second wife.” His fists clench on top of the papers.

You’re quiet for a moment. “Can I read it, Father?”

Father waves his hand.

The sound of crinkling paper fills the room. You flip the folded flaps of the letter. The tidy calligraphy starts by addressing your father. Your eyes skim over saccharine words crafted to impress him.

The letter opens with the head of the Zen’in clan iterating that this is the perfect opportunity for the Joushou clan to enter the inner circles of the jujutsu society.

It goes on by saying that if the Gojos never had that pesky godling born in the same year as your little sister, your clan would have made it within the triad of jujutsu families, even rivalling the authority established by the Kamos. Pity that the Gojo clan beat your family by a hairbreadth and pity that the inheritor of the Purification Technique is of the lowly sex. You take a glance at Father, knowing that this section of the letter is the reason behind the tick in his jaw. You continue on reading how the children from this union would be the leaders of the next generation of jujutsu. With the Glorified Womb and a carrier of the Ten Shadows Technique, it is bound to be fruitful—the most awaited heir of the Zen’in clan won’t just be a figment of someone’s imagination.

We hope this is met with utmost consideration. After all, this is the pinnacle we are both waiting for. Wed your bloomed flower to my youngest son and all will be well—you will be compensated handsomely. Everything you could think of, we will provide as long as they belong to our capabilities. Do not make the wrong decision, Joushou. The fate of your clan rests on your word.

“This is not in my position to ask but,” you start, lifting your head from trailing your eyes over every well-crafted, harsh word the Zen’in sent, “Father, tell me you’re not going to consider this?” He doesn’t offer a response. He simply stares at a spot on his desk, his hands woven over his mouth. You hear your heartbeat in your ears as you place the letter on the furniture separating you from him. “Father.” The man goes on to blankly stare at you. At the silence, your voice gains volume. “He’s the same age as Uncle Hatsugu!” He stands up from his seat, lifting his chin in the air while you feel tears peeking through your bottom eyelids. At the stony facade he dons, you slowly shake your head. “Father, no. No, no, no!”

Father merely blinks. The previous tension weighing on his shoulders vanishes and in front you is the man who thought it was best to force your mother to bear the son he wanted. “[Name].”

“Please tell me you haven’t—”

“It’s the Zen’in.”

“But that doesn’t mean—!”

“You will have four years.”

Standing in this room with him becomes suffocating with each passing second. Marrying young has always been the culture in your hidden world. Women are a commodity. You hope that because Father was kind enough to tell you of each suitor sending their letters, he will also be kind enough to reject them until you have fully lived your life. “Please,” one word is all you can say. And if that isn’t enough for Father, you try to convince him with your eyes. Yet the more you look at him, all ready to kneel and plead to give back your girlhood, you gradually understand that you have no choice. Father looks like he’s seen a ghost within you. The shock morphs into rage, then, later calms into a quiet nothing that rings so loud your tears cascade on your cheeks. “I-I don’t want this, Father. The Zen’ins—”

“Are a respectful family that is worth leagues more than ours,” he finishes. “They stand as what orthodox should be in our world. This,” he taps his forefinger on the letter, “is just the beginning, [Name]. We are nearing the pinnacle of jujutsu in this generation and it starts with your marriage to this man.” You open your mouth to retaliate. He cuts you off from speaking with a hand. “You are someone born in my family. Do your duty just like any other woman before you.”

“Just listen to me—”

“Am I clear, [Name]?” Father fixes a wide-eyed glare at you. “You didn’t inherit your mother’s viability for heirmaking for nothing. This is your purpose. Whatever fantasies you have running in that head of yours, cease it. Do you understand?”

You don’t answer him.

“[Name].”

Flinching at the way he says your name, you look down at your feet.

“Do not make me angry; we both know that it won’t end in your favour.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “I understand, Father.”

“Good.” Then, he waves you away. “Go. I have a letter to reply to.”

You don’t know where your feet take you. After the shoji doors slide shut behind you, you are floating. You see and hear nothing. When you lift your head from mindlessly tracing the ground you walk on, you are outside in the gardens, the little girl you left behind earlier still in the same place. She turns around at the sound of your footsteps but you don’t give her a chance to call you because you pull her into your arms. You can feel her pressing her cheeks against yours and it hurts. You bury your face in her hair, your embrace fully encompassing her from the world. The air smells of hellebore and amidst the lake of white and purple, a clump of begonia stands as a beacon.

Toji spits out blood on the blades of grass surrounding the Zen’in estate. Imposing eyes follow him from the visible hallways of the traditional Japanese household. He can already assume what they are whispering about— the black sheep of the family is at it again, disappearing in random hours of the day and coming back all bloody like he wants to taint our sacred home . Toji clicks his tongue at the thought and by doing so, irritating his split gums, which irritates him even more. He couldn’t care less. Let them talk, let them paint him into their version of a devil, let them say that he’s the curse of the family; to Hell with all of them.

He keeps on walking until he reaches the nearest entrance to his father’s wing, where his side of the family resides. The maids scurry away from his path and the only sound accompanying him to his destination is the jingle of charms dangling from his wallet. It’s jarring, how stark the various shades of pink and blue are against his dark garb. If he is one of the nosier women in the estate, he would have questioned it as well. The carved flowers make a nice melody with each step and they all sing something that’s purely her . Because that’s the reason why the hanging charms are in his pocket—they’re all for her , the precious doll of the Joushou clan and the belle of everyone’s ball, including his. Even as he let himself loose by facing a dozen curses in an abandoned hospital, he still managed to think of something so soft, a feat in itself that he never thought possible for someone like him.

It’s a miracle that nothing intercepted him. Usually, during his excursions, Jinichi would make himself known and throw remarks that would have the two of them grappling for the first punch. This time around, none of the notable people in his family lurks around the corner, waiting for their moment to strike. It’s peaceful for once and Toji doesn’t know how it makes him feel.

“You.”

A maid squeaks when Toji’s gaze falls on her.

“Where are the others?”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. She can’t fully look him in the eye.

“I’m fucking talking to you,” comes from Toji’s mouth.

With a hitched breath, the maid answers, “They’re all gathering in the Master's office.”

“The old man is dying; what are they gathering there for?”

The maid grips the edges of her cheap uniform, creating creases that would surely earn her some nagging from the matron of housekeeping. Locking eyes with him is a mistake because she starts sweating even though this part of the estate hasn’t met any heaters in the last few months. Perks of being the most favourite disappointments. Toji carefully wraps his hand around the kanzashi nestled inside his pocket, the ornaments it carries caressing his skin. This is taking too long. Then, the maid stutters, “I-I heard they received a message regarding a marriage proposal.”

“Who?”

“I-I don’t know, Sir.”

Toji lets out a mirthless laugh. “It’s bitchy Ogi, isn’t it? Should’ve known.”

The maid keeps quiet with her head down. Without addressing her any further, Toji walks past her and makes his way to the main wing of the estate.

Despite saying that he doesn’t care for the inner workings of their clan, he can’t help but feel amusement for another failed marriage to surface. After his newest aunt’s funeral, all anticipation and hope for the clan’s future has been sucked dry. Pity that these women are sent to this wretched family, hoping to at least be treated as royalty. All they got is the constant spiel that they are far beneath their husbands even though they share a last name through marriage. Toji’s mother was one of those women. And Heaven forbid, another tombstone will be added to the clan’s guarded cemetery with this letter.

With silent footsteps, Toji leaned on the wall next to the sliding doors of his grandfather’s office with his arms crossed on his chest.

“—Can’t tell me this is fucking fair!”

His father.

“You have not proven yourself worthy for this, Ichiro.”

The wheezing gives it away.

Booming laughter erupts from behind the closed doors, followed by a guzzling of a drink. “If only your wife died before giving birth to two failures, one of which is standing with us in this room also vying for this girl’s hand in marriage. Would you look at that, you two are almost twins sneering at me like that!” Another round of cackles from his alcoholic uncle. “You would have a chance with this girl who’s even younger than your sons! Ha! Just saying that makes me want to puke—”

“Not in here, Naobito,” a warning from Grandfather.

“—the contents of my stomach.

“Like Ogi is any better.”

“Do not bring me in your squabble,” says a calm, grating voice.

“I still believe this is something you have planned to dethrone me from my chance of being the heir. Are you that threatened by my son’s manifestation of cursed energy?”

Ogi scoffs. Toji imagines him lifting his chin in the air—the arrogant bastard. “It’s not my fault you are hindered by the existence of your precious child. Or do you regret ever siring him for a chance at a young girl? I’d say you are a hypocrite, brother.”

“Say that to my face, you little piece of shit!”

“Father, why not Jinichi?” Toji’s father tries pulling the tides in their favour. “They are close in age. My son developed a technique uniquely his, a promising one that would shake the other clans if he would inherit the position of heir. Why not give him this girl as a chance to redeem our bloodline? The future user of the Ten Shadows Technique will surely emerge from their coupling.”

“It is true that our family has established a hierarchy unlike the others,” the senile man coughs out, “but I would never waste something worth more than diamonds on your dying bloodline.” Toji can hear his father raising his voice while his older uncle cackles in glee. If only he’s not carrying treasure in the depths of his pockets, he would have bled through his pants with how tight he’d be clenching his hands. “Compared to Ogi, your son’s technique is nothing. My son has gained a reputation from the higher-ups of our world, a feat your son could only dream of. What Ogi can do will only be the catalyst in a fruitful union.” There is a pause. “And there is the case of your other child. What’s to say Jinichi is tainted by his younger brother? Don’t even make me begin on how that abomination always succeeds in being the family’s blunder. I have presented the letter for her hand in marriage with Ogi in mind and no one else. Do not make me exert my power over you, Ichiro, because you are nothing but a failure to me.”

“Father, you surely know how to knock down someone,” Naobito says in mirth.

Toji is still against the wall of the old man’s office. His hands are itching on pummeling something to the ground. Fucking elders and their ridiculous degrading words—they make him want to wring their necks and feed them to the curses they keep in the basement. Toji wants nothing more than to witness the light dim and eventually flicker out from this senile man’s eyes. Heat starts travelling all the way to the tips of his ears. Hearing everything urges his body to retreat in his room and wallow in self-pity. But anger gets the best of him, always. This fucking family and their superiority will be the death of them; he is already cursing them. They would ask for Heaven for what he is doing to them in his head. Then again, Hell would probably be Heaven for them for all the grotesque things they do behind closed doors.

“Then, it’s final. Ogi will wed Joushou [Name] the moment she turns eighteen. This is the pinnacle of jujutsu and I expect nothing but congratulations from you pitiful fools.”

That is the moment Toji realised, he would take down the pinnacle of the jujutsu world.

Notes:

in the victorian language of flowers, hellebore can mean 'we can overcome scandal and slander'. when paired with begonias in a bouquet, it brings a reminder that future challenges will arise.

taglist (send an ask or a reply if you want to be added !! )

@booblikerlhc @sugutoad @sakuralikestars @fandomfloozy @the2ndl @silent-sondering @idktbhloley @ruixrei @m0nsterzl0ve @mooniro @kenstarsworld @bealiz13 @viclentdeliqhts @elisaa-shelby @oh1boy @wonderland173

#— rory's passages🌼#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji zenin

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sciderman · 3 days

Note

ARE WE AFFIRMING YOUR GENDER?! IS THAT WHAT WE’RE DOING?!

Sci, first of all, I’m so sorry your dad said that listing your pronouns is embarrassing. It’s 2024. What’s embarrassing is being a parent who cares more about what other people think of them than what their child thinks of them. People don’t have to understand you, they don’t even have to agree with you, but if someone says they love you, the least they can do is make the attempt to show you they respect your identity as an individual person. I know this is particularly difficult for parents sometimes but it’s not impossible. I sincerely hope that someday your dad realizes how spectacular you are and how lucky he is to have the opportunity of knowing and loving someone as truly kind, funny, and generous as you are.

Second of all, LET’S GIVE ANOTHER SHOUT OUT TO THOSE PRONOUNS. Oooo I like the way you wear he/him. It’s loud, it’s rebellious, it’s confident, it’s authentic! It’s everything those angry white boys with podcasts WISH they were! You are entering your “boys will be boys” era and it’s covered in bright colors, zany patterns, sequins, and ATTITUDE.

I am so fucking proud of you for taking this big scary step into being your true self and laying it bare before the world. Just last night I was thinking about how one of the reasons I was so miserable in my 20s was because when I was around 21/22 I went back into the closet to make myself “more palatable” for the people around me. Less confusing for them. Less work for them. And I’ll never actually know what experiences I lost when I lost myself. I’ll never know what I could have done, the opportunities and stories and memories I missed out on because I was only living as half a person. I’m back on track now though, and the good news for you is: now that you’ve taken this step you never have to ask that question again.

I’ve gotta say, Sci, announcing your true pronouns is definitely one of the sexiest things you could ever do. And Wade agrees. <3

hooougghh bless you @nobutforrealthough - you're so cool and sexy and ough...

i feel so very exhausted in the head lately about identity things. i think a lot of people thought i was some kind of gender icon when really i'm just piecing things together as best as i can. i feel a little exhausted that people thought so much of me and i'm not delivering on it. (but i've felt that way all the time, all my life, from pretty much everybody.)

i guess it's difficult to do all this alone, without anyone in your corner. i think writing wade and peter, they sort of felt like friends to help me through it, because i don't really have anyone else out there to help me through and speak to me on my level. so – i kind of had to invent voices to give me courage. and it helps. but i worry that it's a little sad, too. sorry. i'm feeling very frank and bare this morning.

it's a lonely old world when you still haven't figured out where you fit in it. and maybe you're not meant to fit. but you kind of do need to fit, for your sanity. for your survival. so you contort and compromise and squeeze yourself into weird shapes and bug your head. and it's all so, so exhausting for me. and i think my body's finally telling me it's time to retire. my body is so, so tired...

#sci speaks #i want to be loved for me.#not for who i can pretend to be.#not for what i can “pull off”.#i want sad little lazy tired me to be treasured too. for being weak. for being lazy. for just wanting to sit around in my undies and cry.#tired of having to be a hero . for having to be an example . for having to put on a good show #ohhgh i'm so tired...#i love sad little lazy me. i love when i love sad little lazy me. sad little lazy me deserves to be loved #just as much as restless gender icon me #sighs. i wish you guys really Knew me. not just all of this text on the internet.

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aurumacadicus · 3 days

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i'm not sure if tumblr is lying to me or not about when you responded to my ask but i only just got the notification for it, so. if you're still doing the 1-161 stony ficlet challenge, can i request 123 if that one hasn't also been taken? ps i'm really loving the ones you've posted so far, they're great! <3

Thanks! It's been a lot of fun!

Steve grit his teeth as Tony carefully, casually prodded his thigh with the toe of his left foot again. They were fighting, and he couldn't tell if this was an olive branch or a deliberate attempt to make him lose his cool.

They didn't fight often. They argued a lot, of course. He and Tony both had very strong personalities, and they also had very strong opinions. More difficult still, Steve was from a different time, and while he'd made great strides in acclimating himself to the time (and while Tony had been very patient as he learned) some things he said and believed still had them butting heads sometimes.

Tony prodded his thigh again, and Steve sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He would not give Tony the satisfaction of reacting.

"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention," Tony finally declared, prodding him again.

"We are fighting and I'm still mad at you," Steve answered curtly, looking back down at his book. He figured that was attention enough, with the mood he was in and their fight still hovering at the edges of their conversations.

The ball of Tony's foot stayed pressed to his thigh a moment longer before he slowly drew it back. "Oh. Sorry."

Steve slanted his gaze over at that, brows furrowing together at the tone of Tony's voice. It was the one he used when he knew he'd misstepped but didn't understand why. He looked genuinely upset before his emotional shutters came back down as he returned his gaze to his tablet. He pulled his feet in closer, tucking himself tighter into the corner of the couch.

Steve watched him, considering, then carefully asked, "We... are still fighting, aren't we?"

"Of course. Obviously," Tony scoffed, prodding at his screen a little harder than he usually might.

Steve waited a beat, but Tony didn't plow on like he usually did when he was angry. He'd had no problem shouting for hours yesterday, but Steve had no doubt he'd come up with new things to shout if he was still very upset. He cast around his mind for what Tony's sudden change in heart and remembered, frowning, that Colonel Rhodes had huffed out a frustrated, 'well, his parents never apologized to each other, at least not in front of him, so he thinks fights just stop eventually and you carry on as usual.'

Tony must have just been... ready for things to carry on as usual. Steve set his book in his lap and sighed again, tipping his head against the back of the couch. He'd been the second one to sit down on the couch. Tony must have thought that was an olive branch. And maybe it had been, he realized, turning to look at Tony again. Maybe, unconsciously, he'd been ready to end the fight, too. But not like Tony wanted, where they simply stopped talking about it and returned to life as normal.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, because he was. His ma always said it took two people to fight, after all.

Tony prodded at his tablet a couple more times, then turned his head a little, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. "...For what?" he finally asked, skeptical.

"For fighting," Steve answered simply. He'd learned early on that if he said too much, Tony would have more to read into.

Tony turned his head away, then looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "...I'm... sorry... too," he finally said, slowly, like he was waiting for Steve to spring some sort of trap after each word.

It hurt a little, Steve could admit to himself. But luckily, he'd learned that it wasn't his own shortcomings as a boyfriend that caused Tony to be suspicious of something he thought was a good thing; the lists of people who had hurt Tony in the past were all available online, after all. Not necessarily under that label, but Steve was pretty good at reading between the lines.

And it was a step in the right direction, Steve figured. Acknowledging their wrongs to each other was certainly better than just letting them go unsaid. They could have a discussion about it later, when the hurt wasn't so fresh and they had time to decompress.

Until then, Steve reached out to grab Tony's ankle and drag his leg back out, and Tony squawked as he was pulled across the cushions. "C'mere."

"Brute!" Tony howled, trying to claw his way back across the couch, but Steve's grip on his leg was immovable. "Stop fucking dragging me everywhere you want me, you neanderthal, I--"

"You what?" Steve asked, flipping him easily, and immediately dug his thumbs into Tony's arch, exactly where he knew Tony got sorest. Tony let out a moan, and Steve knew he had won, at least for the moment.

#aurumacadicus answers #daeshikoba #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

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natt-writes · 1 day

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~5 Writing tips that actually help~

(These tips are meant for fiction books, especially fantasy. so if you’re writing nonfiction a decent amount of these won’t apply to you. Sorry!)

Find your writing voice.

one of the biggest issues I find in things written by beginners is a lack of emotional connection with the narration. Sure the story can be great, but without personality, without looks into the characters minds, without little quips here and there, it really isn’t all that interesting. Something that really helped me to realize this was a book called the tragical tale of birdie bloom. It’s a kids book but it honestly has such a good narrator (and storyline tbh) that you can look past the little kiddy-ness. I recommend you check the book out if you’re looking for some inspiration. I will be making a post about how to develop your writing and character voices soon so if you want some extra help with that, stay tuned!

2. Get to know your characters.

I know that you all probably already know this, but characters are one of, if not the most important part of a book. Readers don’t want to read about a flat, boring character who just feels like a vessel for the horrifying amount of trauma you add to your story. They want to read about people that feel real, people with flaws and feelings and hobbies and backstories. When I wanted to develop my characters I started going through the drafts, the plot outlines, everything and seeing what the characters did, said, felt. Then I took their basic backstory and started lining things up. Like if a character decided to get into a fight with another character, I would see what had happened to them that might have caused this. Maybe they had been abused as a child and thought that any disagreement meant they had to fight for their life. Maybe this person reminded them of a former enemy. After you start to figure out what connects the characters to the big plot points, you can then start to develop subtle things. You could start writing something, realize this situation would have triggered a character, and then drop subtle hints towards them feeling uncomfortable. Go nuts with it, after all you can never over-analyze a character.

3. Describe things uniquely.

Descriptions are what help us to understand what’s going on in a scene. They can tell us about the tasty drink a character is enjoying, the slick dress that someone is wearing or the way a characters muscles tense when a certain someone enters the room. But sometimes descriptions a fall a bit flat and that can ruin the experience for the reader. Something I always try to remember is to try and come up with new words describe something, for example; “her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.” Is a very basic and over used description, instead you could try; “her eyes sparkled as she sat across from me, gleaming a rich chocolate shade as the light from the candles reflected off of them”. This is a much stronger sentence as it gives both environment hits and a description of the eyes, all while staying away from overused terms. I often see this theme in stories written by beginners, things being described in a very straight forward manner. And of course this is ok once in a while, especially if this isn’t a very important topic, but it still sounds better when you branch away from that basic sentence structure. I always like to use descriptive sentences to push things forward. Here is another example; “she was wearing a fluffy green dress with lots of lace. She walked over to the door and opened it.” Vs “the lacy trim of her green dress dragged on the floor as she walked towards the door. She smiled wide as she held it open, inviting her guests into the building.” Making strong sentences is very important, so please toy around with different words, structures, etc, until the sentence fits the type of book you’re trying to write.

4. Make trauma realistic.

Yes, even if you’re writing a fantasy book, characters experiences have to be realistic. Something that always gets on my nerves is when writers come up with a good idea for some trauma, so they just give to a character, even when it doesn’t suit them at all. if you are going to give a character trauma you need to explain it, set it up so it actually fits into their character arc, then have the character actually be affected by it. They can’t just randomly be like “I got shot by a dude.” And that’s it if there is no way that character could have gotten shot given their life experiences. Also if you want a character to be relatively unaffected after an extremely traumatic event you have to plan it out so that they have a specific and consistent trauma response that makes them not react shortly after an event like that. Characters are supposed to be like people, and no two people react to trauma the same way, so you do have some leeway if necessary, but people also don’t just stay the same after something horrible happens, they are affected by it and that has to be accurately portrayed. This does get easier the more you get to know the characters though, as soon you will know how they react to things and how to plan trauma that suits them.

5. Make a plot outline.

I cannot stress this enough, make a plot outline. Making a plot outline literally saved my book, and they are really easy to make! I recommend you download a spreadsheet app like XL spreadsheets or Apple numbers but you could even use google docs if you want. You want to put in all the chapters and then give each chapter at least six spots to write scenes. Add a spot for adding the main event of the chapter/a summery of what you have to write. This will help you to understand what you have to write for that chapter and how it fits into the next chapter. After that you start to fill all the scene boxes in with your plot information. Having a plot outline is great as it can be super vague and messy, but still hold all your ideas. It also helps to prevent unnecessary rewrites later, as you can just edit the plot outline before you start writing the first draft. You can even make a plot outline after you’ve started writing your book. That’s what I did and I promise, it still is very helpful. (Example of a plot outline below.)

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television-overload · 2 days

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of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 3/34 - soft blue sweater

[Read on AO3]

That weekend, it is with giddy excitement that Mulder and Scully spend the day at her apartment up to their eyeballs in paperwork, brochures, and Chinese food.

“Next question: where would we live? Together or separate?”

“Together,” she answers, before thinking she should probably soften that affirmative answer with an indifferent, “if that works for you.”

“It more than works for me,” he says with certainty. “I can ask Frohike for the number of the real estate agent who hooked him up with the lair. Or we could live here, either way.”

This is crazy. They’re moving so fast. What they’re thinking of doing doesn’t even make sense. Everyone will think they’ve well and truly lost their minds, and maybe they have!

“This is giving me a headache,” she admits, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“I’ll flag that as one to revisit later,” he says, jotting something down in a notebook. “This communicating thing is a lot of work, huh, Scully? No wonder we don’t do it more often.” He grins at her, more freely than he has in a long time.

She rubs a hand over her tired eyes. “No, it’s good. It’s good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

He just looks so happy, she can’t help but smile back at him. The knot of uncertainty she’s been harboring as a result of her overthinking dissolves instantly in the radiance of his boyish enthusiasm. He’s all soft edges today, for once out of his G-man uniform. Instead, he wears that soft knit blue sweater she likes so much, and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

His socked feet rest on her coffee table while he flips through various documents, assembling them into binders with an attention to detail that she’s only ever seen him apply to their files. She’s mesmerized.

This might be her life. If they go through with this… He just said he’d live with her. Weekends spent together flash before her eyes, not having to say goodbye after one of their movie nights, just ‘goodnight.’ Takeout containers morph into home-cooked dinners at the table in her kitchen. Him making coffee in the morning. Driving to and from work together…

As much as the thought appeals to her, there’s one tiny detail missing that could put an end to this entire operation before it even begins.

“Mulder?” she asks, inadvertently cutting off whatever rambling he’s been doing while she wasn’t paying attention.

He glances up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose to keep them from sliding off. The sight almost makes her forget what she was going to ask, as important as it was, but in this case, her concern far outweighs anything else.

“Do you think they’ll buy the co-parenting thing? I mean, I’m not really seeing a precedent for it in any of the literature I’ve looked at. Would they even accept our application?”

He’s quiet for a second. That second stretches into two.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

She swears the entire block goes silent, not even the sound of a car on the street outside or the hum of heat pumping through her apartment. It makes his words feel heavy. Meaningful. Like she’s just dipped into unfamiliar and dangerous territory without knowing it.

“And...?”

He rubs the back of his neck, obviously struggling to verbalize whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of his.

And then he just outright says it.

“We could get married.”

Her eyes go wide.

Married.

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands up, halting her speech. “No, I’m serious. You just said we’d be living together. What’s the difference if we also happen to have a piece of paper that makes it official?”

There’s that look in his eye, the one he gets when he sits her down for one of his slide presentations. Never could she have imagined he’d have the same look when trying to convince her of marriage. It’s overwhelming.

“Unless,” he pauses, “you think you might meet someone sometime in the future, which is a completely valid concern…”

She has to stop him there. “That’s not it at all. I just– What if this doesn’t work out and we don’t get a baby? You’d be stuck with me and have nothing to show for it.”

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, the saying goes. If this fails, she could lose… everything. Is that a risk worth taking? Would he grow to resent her? Would they have to jump through legal hoops to undo all of this if things don’t go their way?

“And you could meet someone too,” she reminds him, “someone that could give you a real family. What then?”

He ducks his head, shaking it in a poor attempt to hide a wry smile. “What’s a real family, anyway?” he counters with a shrug, then grabs her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you, Scully.”

Her eyes find his, searching them for something to clue her in to his thought process. Is he serious? Has he lost his mind? She finds nothing but bare honesty in his emerald depths. Bare honesty, and that hope she’s been seeing there since this whole idea came up. It’s a different look for him, but oh how she loves it. She wants to do everything in her power to keep it there.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve thought of asking you before?” he asks.

Her brows furrow, and though part of her wants to bolt, to declare this whole evening an error in judgment, she stays, looking at him warily. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soothing, as if he had known her inclination was to flee from this conversation. Stay , his touch says. Stay with me.

She shakes her head, lips quivering in an almost-smile, and says what he always loves to hear her say. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not!” he counters, equally amused and defensive. “When you had cancer, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get to see you in the hospital…”

She swallows at the memory of waking to find him collapsed by the side of her bed, his hand clasping hers like a lifeline.

“Really?”

“Really,” he answers, his smile softening into fondness. “Though I’m pretty sure Bill would have killed me.”

That brings out a laugh, which Scully shyly hides behind her hand as she wipes it across her nose. When had she started tearing up?

“We’ll buy you a helmet and some shoulder pads, then,” she concedes teasingly.

His mouth quirks up in a smile, knowing precisely what is implied by that response.

“Is that a yes?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes locking with his. Is it? Is she about to agree to marry her best friend?

It should be more of a question, but it isn’t. For some reason, this feels like the most logical thing to do.

She nods.

He shifts on the couch, suppressing a smile and squeezing her hand before letting go. “Well alright then…” he says, crossing his arms in front of him for lack of anything better to do with them. “We can go to the courthouse whenever you’re ready. Or, if you want an actual wedding—”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “No, the courthouse will be fine.”

“As long as your mom doesn’t pool her money with Bill to order a hit on me,” he jokes.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does bring up an interesting point though, one that fills her with trepidation. “God, we’ll have to tell her, won’t we? And your mom. And Skinner .”

The dread increases with each name listed.

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he assures her, placing a calming hand on her knee. “For now, this is just between us. Until you decide otherwise.”

“Just between us,” she agrees, letting his words melt her worries away.

-.-.-

He had lingered for a while in her doorway when the time came for him to go back to his apartment. It was awkward, but not in a way that might cause alarm in light of what they’d just agreed to do.

No, as crazy as it might sound, this was one decision neither of them could imagine regretting. The gravity of the situation, though, was what led to the uncharacteristic silence and shyness as she bade him farewell with an impulsive, last-minute hug. He had smiled, and walked backwards out the door, maintaining eye contact until she slowly shut the door between them.

She lies awake in her bed hours later, unable to sleep.

This morning, she was a perpetually single federal agent with a pipe dream of being a mother. Now, she’s engaged to her partner, and there’s partially filled out adoption paperwork with both his and her names on them burning a hole through her top desk drawer.

The Dana from seven years ago would tell her she’s lost her mind.

But then, that Dana also wouldn’t know how important her crackpot new partner would end up being in her life. Skeptical as she was, she’d hardly believe it anyway.

Engaged . She’s always thought about this day, how it would feel to have a man ask for her hand in marriage. She can say without a doubt that this is not how she expected it to go, but the disappointment one might expect in her situation is absent. They may not be going about this in the traditional way, but it is nothing less than what she’d expect with Mulder.

He had long since rewritten her thoughts on what a normal life was supposed to look like. Her eyes had been opened, the possibilities now seemingly endless instead of linear and predictable. Despite the heartache she has endured over the years, it’s worth it to live with a more complete view of the world. Sometimes, it feels like she and Mulder are the only ones who can see it.

Sighing, she rolls over, her gaze settling on her nightstand.

She shouldn’t. He could be sleeping.

All the same, the corded device beckons her. It’s a temptation she’s familiar with, although tonight it is particularly strong and irresistible.

Don’t, Dana. It’s not real. He’s not really your– Give him space.

She picks up the phone anyway.

Before she can even change her mind, she hears the line connect, and she greets him in the way he’s come to expect.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She can almost hear him smile on the other end of the call, and all thoughts of this being a bad idea fly from her mind.

“Well if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Spooky Mulder,” he says jovially, sounding much too awake for her to have interrupted his sleep.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. At the timbre of his voice, lazy and drawn out at this late hour. He can be endearing when he wants to be. A real sap at times.

“Hey, Scully. We’re engaged.”

“I know,” she speaks into the phone, curling in toward it and holding it with both hands up against her ear. Her pillow welcomes her into its embrace, and she sinks into it, grinning into the covers.

“We’re gonna give poor Skinner a heart attack,” he says with a laugh.

Their poor boss. He must have had no idea what he was getting into when he was assigned to oversee the X-Files.

“He’ll get over it,” she says dismissively.

She hears Mulder chuckle a little, the breathy sound tickling her ear. She can tell he’s tipping back in his rickety desk chair in his apartment by the rhythmic creak that sounds, and she pictures him with his feet up on the desk, maybe spinning his basketball around idly in his hands.

“I don’t know, this might break his heart, Scully,” he teases.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, would you stop that? He does not have a thing for me.”

“He absolutely does, and so does every guy in the building.”

She almost asks, ‘Every guy?’ but thankfully catches herself before uttering those words. Sometimes she wonders, but then everything with Diana had shaken what she thought she knew about him. They are still working on getting back to where they were before. It’s far too fresh for her to make any suppositions about where they stand now.

They fall into a brief silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he finally asks, when it becomes clear she won’t tell him why she called unless prompted.

She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly in amusement, the sound rattling over the phone. “I don’t know if I’m really the expert you want to be talking to on that particular subject, Scully. Just what exactly do you want me to do about it?” he teases.

“Just talk to me,” she says softly, as if speaking quietly will somehow lessen the embarrassment she feels.

“Ah, so you want me to bore you to sleep. Got it,” he says, taking it in stride. “Which cryptid would you like to hear about tonight, Miss Scully?”

She closes her eyes, her lips tightening into a tired smile. “No monsters, Mulder. You know I find those way too fascinating.”

“Ha ha, Scully,” he says, laughing at her obvious joke. “Okay. How about this? There was this kid at my school growing up. Mark. One of twelve siblings in the same family.”

“Twelve?” she asks incredulously.

“Mm-hmm. All of them adopted.”

Her smile widens, and she burrows further into her pillow, tucking her comforter over her shoulders. She loves these little glimpses she gets into his old life, rare as they are. She doesn’t have to ask why he chose to tell her this one tonight of all nights. His motives are as clear as can be.

“They’d go to Disneyland every summer, all twelve of them plus their parents,” he continues. “Sam and I were so jealous. One of the girls was in the same grade as her, so we all hung out a lot. Well, not all of us. With that many siblings, there were bound to be some you just didn’t get along with. We had fun, though.”

“How’d they afford Disneyland with twelve children?” she asks sleepily.

“It was Martha’s Vineyard, Scully,” he answers simply. “They were filthy rich.”

She hums, feeling herself begin to relax at the soothing monotone of his voice. The line falls silent, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear the gentle sound of his breathing. She allows it to lull her into a state of restfulness.

“After Sam disappeared, it didn’t seem fair. He had so many siblings, while I lost the only one I’d ever have. I stayed away from him for a while after that. He was one of the only people at school that didn’t treat me like some criminal or freak after she was abducted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him or his little sister anymore. It was too big a reminder of what I was missing.”

Scully’s heart aches as she listens. This bedtime story doesn’t have a happy ending, she knows. Though her eyes are closed, she feels a tear leak onto her pillow, hurting for the lonely little boy her partner had once been. She wishes, like she has so many times before, that she could have been there for him then like she is now.

His voice returns, crackling over the line. “Eventually I started going over there again,” he continues, “before they moved away. They were kind to me. Treated me like one of their own. It didn’t make up for Sam being gone, of course, but at least I wasn’t completely alone. And it taught me an important lesson, one I think I’m only just beginning to understand.”

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully slurs, barely keeping awake but wanting to know the answer—this epiphany he’s had. She has to know how he can tell this story without breaking down into tears as she would if it were her own.

“You can choose your family,” he answers finally, as if it were the obvious conclusion to this story. “They might not have been connected by blood, but Mark’s family was connected by something stronger. Love .”

He breathes, perhaps lost in the memory of his childhood friend. Perhaps he’s contemplating the great mysteries and joys of the universe. Either could be possible for this deeply philosophical man.

“It seemed to work out pretty good for them.”

Scully’s heart blooms with emotion, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s time I choose my family, Scully,” he says softly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I hope one day I’ll find out what happened to my sister. I– I still need to have some closure, I think. But it feels good to hope for something else too, for a change. Something more than piecing together a family that was never together in the first place. So, thank you. You’re the one who showed me it was possible. I think I owe you more than everything, at this point.”

She smiles softly into her pillow, reminded of the feel of his breath on her lips that day in his hallway. It’s a thought she has come back to innumerable times since it happened, and though there have been some shake ups since then, it still brings her comfort.

She allows the memory to wash over her, covering her with a blanket of warmth and security.

And finally, she succumbs to the pull of sleep.

-.-.-

It’s quiet. He listens, recognizing the subtle change in her breathing, and he knows she’s fallen asleep. He could hang up, call it a night, but he selfishly isn’t ready to.

There’s still one more thing he wants to say.

“I choose you, Scully,” he whispers into the phone, too cowardly to say it when she might hear him. “You’re my family. And I can’t wait to see how it grows from here.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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cripplecharacters · 1 day

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Hi! I have a myriad of minor chronic conditions and symptoms, but nothing that's actually been identifiable enough to be diagnosed by a doctor. That's a relevant piece of information, because there's a character who I'm writing with more severe/debilitating versions of some of my own symptoms, and I'm struggling with giving him any actual defined diagnoses because of it. The actual question here is: If I'm basing these symptoms off of things that are happening with my own body, and the character is not in a situation where he'd get a diagnoses in-universe, is there a reason I can't just leave it as a mystery?

I suppose the main reason I'm struggling with the question in the first place is that upping the severity of the symptoms in question means that, unlike myself, the character will be using mobility aids, which makes me feel like I should do more research on why he'd be using them. I have no idea why, once in a blue moon, my right leg just decides to refuse to hold my weight for 10-45 seconds, but I do know that if I know that if it happened more regularly/for longer periods of time I'd probably invest in a cane due to instability walking. I'll be posting this work in a space where people will be able to ask me questions about it directly and I can already feel the comments being typed lol. So, I feel like I should have an answer beyond just "His symptoms are based off my own and unfortunately I don't have a diagnoses", but like... do I actually or am I just getting in my head about this?

Hi,

It’s completely okay to have a character who doesn’t have a specific condition or diagnosis you can point to if you’re basing it off your own life experience.

The truth is that this happens all the time. I also don’t really know why my knee is awful and sometimes can’t hold my weight or is incredibly painful to bend, and I’ve been to doctors (who had suggestions but no specifics) and was prescribed physical therapy. I did the PT. It didn’t do much, but I tried it.

You clearly have an experience with your conditions and symptoms and just because you haven’t gotten a diagnosis doesn’t mean your disabling symptoms aren’t real. It also doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll never get a diagnosis, either.

I completely understand your hesitancy, though, because the truth is that some disabled characters are created with a vague idea and end up having some sort of Ambiguous Disorder that is just for plot reasons. That can be harmful and ignore the realities of real-life conditions and disabilities just for something to be more Appealing or Plot Relevant.

But it doesn’t look like that’s what you’re doing at all—you are in fact pretty well-researched, because you’re basing your character primarily in your lives experience and, in good faith, making them not exactly the same as your own.

“His symptoms are based on my own, and I don’t currently have a specific diagnosis” is a reasonable answer. It’s true, and it’s not dismissive or misleading in any way. You can also add “I did research on how A and B would make someone need/do X or Y,” as needed. Like specific mobility aid research, or potential conditions, or related symptoms.

Overall, you can feel confident in your creation of your character and that your depiction is reasonable, and it also might make you more comfortable to answer questions if you feel equipped to elaborate about the symptoms or the aids rather than about the diagnosis.

Hope this helps! :)

— Mod Sparrow

#howisa-raven-likeawritingdesk #mysterious disability #mobility disabilities #mod sparrow

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orange-orchard-system · 16 hours

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Sometimes it's like. You look at someone and you wonder how they go about their days with a reliable memory. What that's like. What it feels like to just know things, to be able to give examples of your life, to be able to answer a question of a happy memory you have without racking your brain for scraps. You plug it into the search box but all you can think about when you see the results is what it must be like to remember that you forgot.

And sometimes it's like. You wonder how anyone functions without that warm feeling in the back of your head of your others, always there for you. Happy and hopeful and picking each other up when one of you falls – maybe a little frayed at the edges, maybe with some wounds that need healing, but sticking together all the same. It's warm like a campfire and warm like excitement, warm like how clouds look to be, even though you know they're cold and wet. You can turn back to them and get a thousand whispered promises of support before you even ask.

And sometimes it's like. You see people laughing at a joke in which you are the butt, the punchline, the freak. And you wonder how they can hate you, how they can show it so casually, what gave them the courage, what prevented their shame. But you never wonder why, because you already know – that's what the joke's about.

And sometimes you know you're not going to remember something even as you're standing in the middle of it. Maybe you try to enjoy the moment – but does it really matter when you're not really experiencing it in the first place?

And sometimes you wonder where you are. And sometimes you wonder who you are.

And sometimes it's like. You're staring at the person who just said they know you, and you have no idea if they're telling the truth, and you have no idea if you can trust them. You don't remember them, but maybe they remember you? Or maybe it's a lie – maybe it's a trick, like how the bullies from childhood would pretend to care. Like how your parents would pretend to care. So you turn them down and admit you don't recognize them, because disappointing someone genuine is safer than risking a knife to the chest – after all, you don't even know if it'll be figurative or literal.

And sometimes it's like. Did your food go bad because you forgot about it? Or is it still good, and you just don't like it right now? Will you like it again later? Did you make the wrong decision in cooking this tonight and not saving it for later? Or did they just change the production of the ingredients? Can you stomach your dinner when you hate it? When it tastes so bad, but used to taste so good?

And sometimes it's like. A melody of a conversation, played with no one else and your mind as the instrument. Hums and bells and chirps and whistles; an orchestra could never outperform what you hear from your own head. It is beautiful and wonderful and you wish everyone could get to experience this, but then you remind yourself that not everyone would enjoy such a thing. And then you wonder why.

And sometimes people write those with voices in their head as murderers. And you watch an ad for an upcoming horror movie with apathy; you can't even be disappointed anymore. You've been upgraded from joke to villain.

And sometimes it's joy passed around from one self to another, gaining momentum, swinging and singing and flying until you can't help but beam and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing because one of your selves just told the best joke you've ever heard.

And sometimes you cry, and they are the only ones there to comfort you.

And sometimes you lash out at them. And sometimes they forgive you. And sometimes that forgiveness only makes you bitter, because it's so foreign. It's the person claiming to know you all over again – why should I trust you? Especially when we make each other into jokes and villains in the eyes of everyone else?

And sometimes it's like. I have no choice but to trust you, to be vulnerable with you, and somehow that makes it easier.

And sometimes your others argue over which bowl to use for your cereal, only for all of you to forget the spoon.

And you wonder what it would be like to remember.

And you wonder what it would be like to decide so easily.

And you wonder what it would be like to hate someone like you – until you remember that you know the answer to that one, because you know what's it's like to hate yourself.

And sometimes your others help you write something that isn't quite poetry but isn't quite not, and you've been trying to write something like this for a while but struggled to find the words, and you're up way too late and should honestly just go to bed but first you have to write this down, and your week has been shitty and you're not out of the woods yet, but at least you have their warmth as you trudge through the dark – something small (but not insignificant) to keep you going, being pulled along by hope that isn't yours and a duty to the ones who have been there for you when no one else was.

And sometimes it's like. Can you guys just choose a spoon already?

#front soup.txt #plurality #pluralgang #actuallyplural #plural system #takashi.txt #poetry #actuallydid #pluralprose

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lorynna · 3 days

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Andrew Tate, a huge hypocrite, is the perfect example of: create the disease, sell the cure." Now, let me explain.

Tate starts off with his webcam business. He openly admits on camera - filming and releasing the footage himself -, that not only is he purposefully manipulating girls, making them fall in love with him (he himself calls it and actively uses the term "lover boy method" as a descriptor) but then also convincing them to work for him as cam-girls, telling those women that they could get rich together if she would simply start instrumentalizing her body and sexuality. He continues to explain in great detail how exactly he emotionally abused those women, lied to them and used several manipulation tactics on them. But I'd rather not mention all that here, since that would open up a whole new conversation and take too long to fully dive into this.

He also admitted on camera that he robbed them of about half of the money those women made "working for him" and then states and I quote: They thought they were on 50% and I said that the despair of the money was because of taxes."

He continues to talk about men "falling in love" with the women he recruited for his Webcam business which were selling their houses, spending all of their life savings etc. in order to pay for the cam-girl services and he commented on those men's actions saying," give me all of it" admitting he didn't at all care for the lives or fates of those men. Tate built his whole empire on being a pimp, which he defines as and i quote again" being a positive, inspirational, motivating person", exploiting and extracting money from lonely, depressed, porn-addicted men.

Now something might start to click. But isn't he a known advocate for those exact men? Telling them that porn consumption is bad, to get their health and depression in check, recommending going to the gym and preaching about how much he hates prostitutes?

He's an advocate for men's suffering and problems? After he caused so much damage to them, making money off of them, taking advantage of them and furthered their misery? The irony.

First he scammed those men, taking their money with good conscience, now he is an advocate for them, making them hate the kind of women he himself manipulated into this, talking about how bad porn is, when he literally owned a webcam business. And don't dare to come at me with "but people change, maybe he learnt from his mistakes".

For now I just recounted why he's a huge hypocrite but now let's focus on why he is a huge mysognist. He has said many things I don't even want to recount, including but ofc not limited to him demonstrating how he'd hit a women in the face that would "misbehave" and not "listen to him" and I have also unfortunately personally seen the video footage that is going around of him beating up a woman with a belt.

One example out of his many many statements so I can further lead on with this text: He further talks about his webcam business, saying "the only girls i couldn't recruit, were girls who had rich parents. Because they're like: Oh, but I don't need that money, my parents are rich! Girls are gonna get their Luis Vuitton bag either way." Implying how all women are superficial and only rich parents prevent a girl from being a "hoe". He got his fame and money from the same women he continues to publicly shame now.

He damaged women and men at the same time, yet there's still people, mostly men, defending him saying "yeah, but he also sometimes tells things that are true!". I appreciate your intention to differentiate and trying to filter through the many bullshit things he's said just so you can cling on to a single true statement.

Even the worst person sometimes has valid points, but that doesn't mean that we can just overlook the things he did in the past and the overall harm he has caused and is STILL causing.

Aside from all of this stuff, Tate continued to deny many of his statements he himself posted online before, showing massive double standards. It seems like he just tries to profit off what's giving him the largest, most uncritical fan base and by targeting incels who love to follow and hear an "alpha male" talk about how "all women are bitches", fueling their anger due to being rejected by women, he seems to have found a goldmine.

He promotes harmful, misogynistic views on women, promoting toxic behavior towards them and is imprinting on the minds of young, impressionable, vulnerable men.

If after knowing all this, you're still a defender of Tate, you might be just as bad as Tate himself.

#feminism #internalised mysogyny #radical feminists do interact #radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist community #radical feminists do touch #andrew tate

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boyled-eggs · 2 days

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Pls can you write hcs about dating john egan 💕

oh hey! yeah, here u go!

john egan's been with many women in his life, but none like you.

no, you were something else.

beautiful inside and out, you were the type to hold close under the moonlight and have deep conversations with, never breaking eye contact.

you made john whole and he you.

you got him saying things that he never thought he'd say.

he told you he loved you out of pure unadulterated adoration and not as a meaningless confession from the orgasmic bliss of being deep inside a pretty woman.

he didn't caress your lips with empty kisses, laced with the intention to never meet again after an emotionally detached one-night stand. no, your lips molded perfectly with his, making you one, breathing, living, loving entity.

you two were practically inseparable.

not just as a matter or physical closeness, but emotional too.

it was hard to believe such a thing would be possible outside the pages of a love story novel written by naive authors yet to experience the limits of real-life romance, but it was like you could feel what bucky felt and he could feel your feelings.

like if you two were apart for whatever reason and you were hit by a sudden wave of sadness, you'd know bucky was either missing you or watching a rom-com flick

he'll never admit that he watches rom-com flicks. and that he cries during them.

"your wish is my command, my love"

no like he'll literally go all out for you.

like even as something as inconsequential as you admiring a pretty lil' flower on a tall tree would turn into him climbing said tree to go get that specific flower for you to wear in your hair.

defo defo defooo takes his jacket off and puts it on your shoulders when you are cold.

"no, i'm not cold", he'd say, shivering profusely.

heart eyessss. 😍😍

no fr this man looks at you like you are his world.

like if you left his sight for even a minute, he would cease to exist.

he CAN NOT stay away from you.

your arms = his haven

wrapped in your arms, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent as your legs wrap around his waist are his favorite way to be. he could continue to exist this way forever.

in your arms, between your legs <3

some nights, the two of you would press your foreheads together, holding each other close and feeling how you breathed in tandem, each breath you took had his name on it and each breath he took belonged to you.

you both could never be too close, even with him inside you.

you in a sundress is this man's kryptonite.

he himself can't explain what you in a sundress does to him but a switch just flips in his head upon seeing the thin fabric of the sundress hugging your body perfectly, with the little bow in the back of the dress, wrapping you up like a present for him to unwrap and savor.

he is not the type of man to change the way he treats you around his boys.

it is always hands on you, and him being like "yes, baby", "of course baby", "i love you, baby"

sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he would just let his eyes trace the terrain of your perfect features, committing every dip and curve and freckle and dimple to memory until his eyes felt heavy and all he could dream of was the soft smile on your peaceful face.

do not let him cook, he'll burn the house down!!

he can sit and watch you cook though.

which he does, smiling the whole time, proud.

"my girl cooks so well and looks amazing while doing it, of course i look at her like that"

movie night with him will be less about watching the movie and more about letting said movie play in the background and have his hands be all over your body and your hands all over his body.

man always had shoulder pain for some reason.

so you give him a massage which he is incredibly thankful for.

you are also thankful to be able to give him a massage because hot damn his broad shoulders 😩😩

he doesn't know how to relax through a massage, like he'll just keep yapping through it

"oh, wow, babe, the oil smells so good, oh wow, your hands feel so soft, i'm so glad i have you"

you'll have to knead that one spot in his upper, upper back that make his entire body go slack, like a temporary switch-off button that only you can find. the only sound coming out of his mouth then is an "oh god" that he moans out deeply, sending butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

he sleeps like a baby afterwards.

he'd look so adorable with a perfect curl over on one of his eyes, covering his naturally curled lashes that trail over your soft skin of your cheek when you and bucky are close. his perfect lips slightly parted, as if he was still drowning in the pleasure of that soothing massage. his cheeks go red like they do when bucky's drunk.

drunk bucky sweats buckets like he'd ran a marathon.

he'd have to take off his jackets and scarves (that you forced him to wear because it was so damn cold outside)

"bucky, wear at least the jacket" "no baby, it's too hot here"

"no, i'm not cold, this is fine, i'm fine" - the shivering man 10 minutes post taking his jacket off in the cold

nicknames, nicknames, NICKNAMES!!

princess, my love, dove, doll, darlin', honey, sweetheart, the love of my life.

all great names, don't get me wrong, but what really got your heart skipping beats was simply the mention of your name.

and this was an effect only bucky could have on you. no one ever took your name the way he did.

it was inexplicable, just like him with you and your sundress.

your name, each syllable escaping his precious lips, had you melting in mere seconds.

bucky gives me such house husband vibes

"no, honey, you're off work today, i'll do all the weekend cleaning, you just sit back and rest."

10/10, will defo put a plush lil' pillow behind you to support your lower back and a lil' forehead kissie after that 🥺🥺

sun bathing together and bucky kissing your sun-kissed skin all over, the feeling of the sun's warmth on your supple skin driving him crazy, it was like he had discovered a new kind of drug.

there would be nights where he'd go to the pub with you and forget to drink himself senseless because he would be too busy drinking you in, the intoxicating effect of holding your gaze being enough to get him high.

you made him feel bliss. you are his paradise.

#john bucky egan #masters of the air #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader

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