#and then suddenly years after believing you are free to be abandoned

[ask-olivervocaloid]

Congrats on your update.

Some thoughts about Oliver's new design (1/?)

#sorry theyre not colored or even second sketches #my hands are dying from my other project lol #but i needed to talk about this #the braid design is so insane to me personally #and only likr 5 people know of it #like could u imagine for years having a braid in your hair to symbolize you are a different person and its your rebellion as a sign of indi #idualism #and then suddenly years after believing you are free to be abandoned #not only you are brought back to a past you thought was impossible to return to #a trait you chose for yourself as a sign of change has now become a symbol for your return to a life that you no longer wanted to claim #anyways. i thought about it but realized im too busy #i say thoughts about his design #but youll have to pry my actual opinions from my cold dead hands #or like idk. be my friend but haha #lol #if you are wondering the asks are obviosuly me i dont know why i puncuated the ask like that

[baeshijima]

— perfect

your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it

A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.

when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.

it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.

the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.

your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.

you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.

he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.

he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.

that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.

(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)

it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).

and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.

he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.

so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!

when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.

it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.

"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.

should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—

"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.

he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"

silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?

oh god he hopes not.

but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.

and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.

"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."

(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

[whump-or-whatever]

Defiant whumpee who copes with humour dialogue pt. 2

• • •

Caretaker: *upon finding Whumpee standing over Whumper’s body* “What happened?”

Whumpee: “Would you believe me if I said they fell on the knife?”

• • •

Whumper: “Caretaker will never want you back”

Whumpee: *speaking as they would to a small child* “Aww, are you projecting your abandonment issues again?”

• • •

Whumper: “Finally I have you, what could be better than this?”

Whumpee: *singing softly* “if you only had a brain”

• • •

Whumpee: *literally dying*

Caretaker: *panicking* “Hold on, just hold on!”

Whumpee: “To what?”

• • •

Caretaker: *upon finding Whumpee during rescue* “Oh thank god you’re okay”

Whumpee: “I am so far from okay right now”

• • •

Whumpee: *being held prisoner*

Whumpee: *singing* “I’m breaking out, when September ends”

Whumper: “… It’s July”

Whumpee: “Shh, let me have my moment”

• • •

Whumper: “I’m going to kill you”

Whumpee: “Ugh, can you at least have someone else do it? No offence but I’d rather not have your face be the last thing I ever see”

• • •

Whumper: *locks Whumpee in a bare cell*

Whumpee: “You know, a throw rug goes a long way”

• • •

Caretaker: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”

Whumpee: “How about what slowly kills you from the inside?”

• • •

Whumper: *revealing their dramatic backstory*

Whumpee: “I think I’ve seen this episode of Criminal Minds”

• • •

Whumpee: *chained to the ceiling shirtless*

Whumpee: “Finally, all those years of belly dancing are paying off”

• • •

Whumper: *walks into Whumpee’s cell*

Whumpee: *yells suddenly* “What are you doing in my swamp?”

• • •

Whumper: “I’m going to be gone for a few days”

Whumpee: *sarcastically* “oh good, you deserve a break”

• • •

Caretaker: “How did you escape?”

Whumpee: “pulled some real Houdini shit, you’d never believe me if I told you”

• • •

Whumpee: *yelling for several minutes to piss Whumper off*

Whumper: *storms up to them angrily* “What is your problem?”

Whumpee: “I have several, you’ll have to be more specific”

Whumper: “why are you screaming?”

Whumpee: *grinning* “I just think it’s neat”

• • •

Whumpee: *shows up on Caretaker’s porch after being missing for months*

Whumpee: “surprise motherfucker” *collapses*

• • •

Whumper: “It’s time for our daily session.”

Whumpee: “Oof, I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at a bad time. My schedule is booked wall to wall. Does next Thursday work for you?”

• • •

Whumper: “Stay quiet and do as I say and we won’t have any issues.”

Whumpee: “We’re going to have issues.”

• • •

Caretaker: “How bad is it?”

Whumpee: *putting pressure on a stab wound* “Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but Tis enough”

Caretaker: “FFS WHUMPEE NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR SHAKESPEARE”

• • •

Feel free to add!

#whump #whump prompt #whump idea #whump dialogue #caretaker #whumpee #whumper #whump humour #defiant whumpee #whumpblr #whunp community

[hiorisgf]

##STRANGERS TO LOVERS? STRANGERS TO LOVERS.

↪ft. Bachira Meguru, Michael Kaiser!!

↪What's on your mind?: Aaaa this is my first ever work, highkey nervous. I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes I made! I tried(╥﹏╥)

↪Also also, just so you know, my requests are currently empty! So feel free to request away!

Meguru Bachira

Bachira, once upon a time ago was a boy who was considered a freak, an outcast to the people in his school. Someone people considered odd or eccentric. And he was fine with that. He was fine with being alone for the rest of his school years so long as the monster inside him stayed with him. He was fine with being alone until you decided to come and barge in unwelcomed to his life and gave him the love he's been long overdue for. Eversince then, he can't find himself living in a world without you by his side.

A student from the same class, that was all you were to him. That was all you were supposed to be to him. But it seems as though you weren't satisfied with that role at all as you sat beside him and talked to him when others wouldn't. It was odd,  you'd shoot him a smile when others sent him sneers. You'd tell him goodmorning when others ignored him. You'd stick by his side when others left him. You'd include him in gatherings when others didn't want to. And most remarkably of all, you tried to learn soccer just to play with him when others refused him. Your actions were foreign, something Bachira couldn't understand. You acted differently among the rest, stayed closer with him rather than anyone else, defended him when others insulted him.

Your actions were foreign, but a part of him liked it. He liked the thought of being someone special to you, he liked seeing you make an effort to get closer to him when you didn't need to try that hard, you've already captured his heart and made it your captive a long time ago. He liked the thought that amongst the many that scowled by the sight of him alone, there was someone who looked at him with hearts in their eyes. And before he's realised it, he's grown used to it. Used to the smiles you'd give him, the snacks you'd feed him, the face-time, the random facts in the middle of the night, and the messages you'd always keep him up at night with—he's grown used to you and the many things you did for him.

So, he prays amongst the stars, he prays to any god that would listen to his selfish prayers. He prays to always be the apple of you eye. He knows it's selfish, that it's wrong to wish for something like that. That he should instead be grateful for recieving the attention of an angel like you for even in just a short span of time. But he can't help it. He loves you so, so much that the thought of you laying your eyes on another person bothered and gnawed him up on the inside day and night. He doesn't want to think of the possibility that you'll eventually grow tired of him and his antics and abandon him just like the rest of his friends did. So please, he prays to the gods up above, please let him be the only person you'll love for the rest of your days. 

Michael Kaiser

The first time Kaiser approaches you it was out of sheer curiousity. How someone could be so stoic and unfeeling was something he couldn't comprehend. He believed characters like those only existed in the movies he's seen or in the novels he's read.

But lo and behold, you came and proved him wrong with your with your never changing expression. At first, he thought you were just exceptionally good at keeping a poker face. But when he doesn't hear your heart race, or feel your body heat up despite moving close enough that your eyelashes were touching—you didn't change that everloving expression of yours. Your lips remained a thin line, eyes looking straight at his blue ones, uninterested. With that, his attention was fully captured as he eventually made it his duty to move that stoic expression of yours.

A few days after, he'd suddenly barged his way into your otherwise peaceful life and tell compliments, overly sugar-coated words that you only respionded with a 'thanks'. A poetry so sweet even the sweetest food in the world couldn't compare, bouqets of flowers and a note where a compliment resides resting amongst the dozens of flowers.

Kaiser did everything to see you smile, to see the aloof exterior of yours break. But when it doesn't, he switces to plan b. Ignore you outright.

A day after he realises his plan a wasn't working, he's quick to pull back and pretend as though he's never done any of the dozens of sweet things to you. He acts as though you were only a stranger, a background character to his theater play compared to what he told you you were just three days ago. After all, having you smile wasn't the only way to move your impassive expression.

But even then, you acted the same way as you did before. Kaiser has to blink once, twice, to accept the fact that that the sweet-nothings he'd tell you and the effort he'd put into wooing you weighed nothing at all to you. And the fact didn't sit right with him.

How could you act so apathetic? Did not even one of his acts move you? Was his gifts and shows nothing but a distraction to you? The thought chewed him up on the insides and ate him alive.

He didn't want that.

He didn't want to be nothing but a distraction in your eyes. He wants to be more—but what did the more he meant even mean? 

Oh. Oh no.

It seems that during his mission to crumble that aloof exterior of yours, he had accidentally fall inlove with you along the way. He fell inlove with the way you'd return his sweet nothings with snarky replies, your small acts of kindness, the way you'd notably let him closer to you than anyone else, he's fallen inlove with you and the things that makes you you. Your flaws, your perfections, imperfections—he's fallen inlove with the entirety of you and he realized it a month bit too late.

A week after his realization, he tries to woo you again. He's back to telling you poetries, little tinkers and gifts that reminds him of you as though he's never outright ignored your existence a week before. Nothing's really changed between the two of you, only that Kaiser was now being serious in wooing and persuing you

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #kaiser #bachira meguru x reader #meguru bachira x reader #@@.xylvie's works

[brainrockets]

Some of the Suvi critics out there are... something. I mean, I get it if you don't enjoy media because of unpleasantness. I very definitely avoided Succession because it squicked me deeply.

So if Suvi squicks ya out. Like sure fine. But some of the interpretations of Suvi being irredeemable or 'not showing signs' that she might be 'redeemable' are just weird? To me?

I mean. I also was raised in one of the cristofascist American evangelical death cults and had to deprogram and unlearn a lot in my 20s and have done a lot of work to be in a healthy space now so... maybe I just have sympathy for being 20 and just suddenly seeing cracks appear in the way you understand yourself and the world around you?

One thing people seem real perturbed by is Suvi's behavior towards Ame (and Ame's seeming lack of correction of that behavior).

And I think there are a few things at play here.

1. Suvi was raised in a highly ordered hierarchy as a soldier from early childhood.

2. Ame is a witch of the heart and has been handling all manner of village nonsense and nonsense people for years.

3. Suvi has not had ANY sort of psychological safety or release since maybe the Cottage. She is more afraid of Steel than Orima.

4. Ame is worried about Suvi. Worried about the way she killed without trouble. The way she's not allowed herself to express feelings for the most part other than anger.

5. When you have a lot of feelings and no safe way to let them out. They still come out. Usually inappropriately. Often paradoxically they get vented on people you feel safe with. Not to say that's acceptable or good but it is pretty normal?

6. Paradoxically, while Ame is safe to be mad at, perhaps subconsciously, Suvi also views Ame as a threat. And she's not wrong. Ame is a huge threat to her. Ame threatens to upend everything that Suvi believes about herself, about magic, about her world. She also plays by different rules and has actively exposed Suvi to risk by divulging things Suvi wanted to keep private. (Not with malice but definitely flagrantly flouting basic rules because she doesn't know they exist.) She also is a threat to the defenses Suvi has built around herself in the wake of her parents' deaths. The way that she has used the notion of the Citadel's correctness as a shield against the pain of loss.

7. I think Ame has dealt with wounded animals and wounded people fairly regularly in her role as apprentice. I think that Ame knows that wounded creatures snap at someone even if they are trying to help. Snapping back at her isn't maybe the move right now. And she has expressed dissent, she's not leaving her nonsense totally alone. She's just carefully cutting away little pieces of net and tutting at her raging and getting a little closer each time. And when Suvi finally lets herself cry instead of rage, Ame reacts with the same patient care she'd use with an injured animal.

8. Also, i do think people are missing Suvi's actions behind her words. Particularly vis a vis redeemable qualities. She does talk mad shit and she says some truly terrible things. But her actions are in conflict with her words. She abandoned her training and her responsibility to help Ame break her curse. He outfitted her friends from the armory and rented out a whole floor of an inn just to be kind. She's kept silent on Honored Friends the entire time she's been at the Citadel. Steel told her to stay and wait but she ran after Ame anyways. She was making a lot of threats but now that Eursulon has promised to free the Great Spirit her only issue with helping do it is that Steel might kill her first. She is ready to throw down for her friends with extreme prejudice.

She's at a crossroads. I find it very hopeful. But like again, I relate pretty heavily to being young and afraid and angry as the world opens up before you and everything you thought you knew is wrong and harming people. Knowing there's a chasm and on one side is your family and your community and on the other side is the unknown and your friends.

#long post #wbn pod #suvi #worlds beyond number #aabria iyengar

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 14/34 - styrofoam gravestones

[Read on AO3]

Skinner gleefully calls their joint adventure to Los Angeles a “honeymoon,” though Scully is sure no one else would consider the movie they'd just been subjected to a worthy use of their time if it had been.

‘Worse than anticipated’ might come close to describing it, actually. 

The trip itself is fine. The insinuation that this is their honeymoon (from their boss, no less) causes them to blush. Skinner knows he's making it weird, which is probably why he keeps teasing them about it every time he sees them. Thankfully, despite the awkward hazing, their boss sets them up with separate rooms.

And apparently has given them free reign of the Bureau credit card for the evening. 

The piece of plastic is burning a hole in her pocket as Scully goes out in search of her partner following the premiere. The studio lot looks much the same as it had when they'd visited before, over a year ago. Even some of the sets are still up, probably from last minute reshoots, and it's here that she finds Mulder, seated amongst the styrofoam gravestones and fake grass.

He'd taken the movie harder than she had, she thinks. After all, it's his life's work they're making a mockery of, not really hers. She's much more bothered by the bizarre love triangle the filmmakers somehow worked in, wondering how on earth they'd come to that conclusion in their short time together.

Mulder had disappeared after a particularly ridiculous scene taking place in a coffin, abandoning her to a sheepish-looking Skinner, who handed over the credit card without a word as soon as the credits rolled.

But now she sees him, and he's not moping like she'd expected after seeing him walk out of the theater in a huff.

Instead, he's staring straight ahead, frozen like one of the statues in the middle of the fake cemetery, seemingly lost in thought.

“Been looking all over for you,” she says, taking a seat beside him on the artificial hill.

“Yeah. Sorry I left. I couldn't take it anymore,” he answers, his blank stare never wavering. 

“That's saying a lot, coming from you,” she jokes, nudging against him with her shoulder. “I'm pretty sure your tolerance for bad sci-fi movies is higher than most.”

He doesn't respond, and it's then that she notices his open cell phone laying in his hand.

“You okay?” she asks. 

He looks down at his own hand as if seeing it for the first time, and snaps the device shut.

“I, uh—” he starts, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “While I was out here, I got a call.”

A knot of anxiety twists in her stomach. That call could be from any number of people, and she can’t tell from his expression what it might have been about. He's shaken, that much is clear.

She suddenly wishes she hadn't eaten a full bowl of popcorn in the theater.

“They tried calling you first,” he continues. “But your phone was on silent during the movie.”

Her eyebrows furrow and she hurries to dig her cell phone out of her purse, checking the display.

2 missed calls.

“Mulder, who—”

“The adoption agency,” he says, cutting her off, and it feels like the floor drops out from beneath her.

She's breathing, but it doesn't feel like she's getting any air. It's impossible to tell if it's good news or bad news yet, but her voice has suddenly stopped working and she can't bring herself to ask.

His hand finds hers, grasping on tightly.

“They approved our application, pending a home visit,” he says, a disbelieving smile beginning to form on his lips.

“They did?” she asks breathlessly, and he nods.

“And there's more.”

What more could there possibly be? She feels like crying, but she doesn't know if she can. The whirlwind of emotions is overwhelming.

“They found someone,” he says. “A possible match.”

That does it. A watery smile pulls at her cheeks, and she can hardly believe it, except she trusts this man with her entire being and he would never lie to her.

“That quick?” she asks.

He nods again. “They said they know it's fast, but the plans for the last placement fell through and they need someone who can be ready in the next four months or so.”

“Four months?”

“A young woman, already five months pregnant.”

She can't help it, she leans forward and wraps him in a crushing hug, throwing her arms over his shoulders and holding on. He holds her just as tight, and she feels his beaming smile in the crook of her neck, matching her own.

“Why didn't you come get me?” she gasps into his ear, absolutely certain she's never been this happy in her entire life.

“I wanted to,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. “My legs stopped working as soon as I heard the words ‘application’ and ‘approved’ and I had to sit down.”

This draws a laugh from deep in her chest, and she pulls him even tighter, cupping her hand over the back of his head and running her fingers through his hair.

When she finally pulls back, she sees his eyes filled with tears of joy, and she knows her own look the same.

“Really?” she asks, needing to clarify. Wanting to hear him say it again. And then maybe again later.

“Yeah, Scully,” he says, gripping her hands in his own. “Really.”

Suddenly, the movie doesn't seem so bad anymore. Who cares, it'll tank anyway. They have better things to worry about.

They're going out to celebrate, and Skinner can pick up the tab. It may not be their honeymoon, but it's a celebration of their relationship nonetheless, a culmination of their time as partners and the beginning of their journey toward becoming parents.

She stands determinedly, pulling Mulder to his feet and interlocking her arm with his, grinning up at him giddily.

“Let's go,” she says, flashing the credit card proudly.

He gladly takes it from her, laughing freely as they begin to stumble out of the graveyard arm in arm.

“Scully,” he says, tossing his cheap plastic Lazarus Bowl behind him as they walk. “Promise me you're not in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner?”

-.-.-

It's just a week later when a knock on Scully's apartment door signals the arrival of the representative from the adoption agency for the home visit. They'd spent the week frantically getting things in order in their limited time after work, finally integrating the items brought over from Mulder's apartment with her own. Mulder had even gotten one of the pictures from their courthouse wedding framed, and it held a place of honor on top of the fireplace mantle in the living room.

Every time she passes it, she feels her heart skip a beat. There are precious few pictures of the two of them together, and that one is the most special of them all. It makes her feel like she has that “normal” life she'd asked him about, once—though of course there is nothing normal about this arrangement they have. 

“Mulder, she's here. Is everything ready?” she says, feeling slightly queasy.

“Ready, Scully,” he answers, and she shoots him a look.

They'd talked about this at length already, so he should know better. “You can’t call me that, remember?”

He tilts his head downward challengingly, the exaggerated eye contact sending a shiver up her spine, and she knows what's coming before the word leaves his mouth.

“Dana,” he breathes in a low rasp, smirking at her visible reaction to how odd it still feels to hear her given name spoken aloud outside of the most dire circumstances.

Oh boy.

“What exactly will you be calling me? Fox?” he asks next, moving to adjust one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“I seriously don’t think I can,” she answers. “I’ll think of something, but if I have to, I suppose I will.”

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever listened to me and not called me Fox, I think,” he comments, his eyes tracking her as she approaches the door. “Other than maybe the Gunmen.”

“And now it just sounds completely wrong coming out of my mouth, so I won’t be doing it anytime soon if I can help it,” she says in a clipped tone, knowing the caseworker is waiting right on the other side of the wall.

“I appreciate that.”

She rolls her eyes, which only makes his smile brighten. “Shut up and get over here,” she says, jerking her head toward the doorway. 

He readily obeys, sliding into place beside her with his arm over her shoulders before she opens the door to the woman on the other side.

“Ms. Koske, hi! Come on in,” Scully says, far more cheerily than her usual affect. 

Mulder catches her eyes, and they flash in warning. Cool it down, they say. Be yourself. She'll do her best to take his advice, but it's hard. This is a key moment in their already fraught path to parenthood. She doesn't want to mess it all up with one small mistake. Not after they've come this far.

“Good to see you, Ms. Scully,” Ms. Koske greets her with a smile and a nod as she enters. “Mr. Mulder.”

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?” She needs something to do with her hands, so she shoves them in her pockets, hoping the answer will be yes so she can distract herself from her nerves.

“I’m alright, but thank you,” Brenda says politely. “Maybe after you’ve shown me around a little?”

Thankfully, Mulder takes the reins after that, probably sensing her unease. 

“Of course, right this way, Ms. Koske,” he says, separating himself from her side—a loss which she feels acutely. He leads the woman further into the apartment, winking at Scully behind her back as he goes.

Scully takes a deep breath, collecting herself. She's not sure why she's so nervous. She and Mulder have read every piece of adoption planning literature they could get their hands on, and quadruple checked that they had everything right before today. Still, she'll always be the one to worry that they missed something.

Thankfully, Mulder keeps cool under pressure. At least in situations like this.

“Any pets?” Brenda is asking him by the time Scully catches up to them in the hallway. She can see that the woman already has a half a page full of notes on her clipboard, not that she can make out any of it.

“Just my fish,” Mulder answers easily. “Although, Sc– Dana had a dog a few years ago.”

Scully clears her throat, deciding now is the time to jump in and be an active participant in this visit.

“Maybe we could get another one after we move to a bigger house, hmm?” she asks. Mulder’s unamused expression is exactly what she was hoping for, but he quickly schools it before Ms. Koske can see. 

She's partially teasing about getting a dog—payback for him blindsiding her with the ‘new house’ idea at their previous interview. But it might be nice, someday. 

Besides, he can’t exactly say no right now, can he?

She grins.

“Whatever you want, my love,” he responds, his overly saccharine smile telling her, ‘two can play that game.’

“How long have you been keeping fish, Mr. Mulder?” Brenda asks, oblivious to the subtle unspoken conversation happening right over her head. She stoops to look at the mollies with interest, tilting her head in response to the U.F.O. themed decor.

“Oh, uh, probably over a decade now,” Mulder answers, turning his attention back to their guest and his gleaming fish tank, in its prized new location.

Brenda raises her eyebrows, scratching something on her clipboard. 

“Impressive. They’re more work to take care of than most people think,” she speaks, and Scully hopes that translates to ‘If you can keep a fish alive, you can definitely handle a human child,’ even if the logic there isn't exactly sound.

Off the hallway, next Mulder shows her to the bathroom, which had been meticulously cleaned the day before. Scully doesn't know how someone could make such a mess with toothpaste, but Mulder’s tooth brushing quirks like squeezing the toothpaste tube wrong have been a constant pain in her neck since he started sleeping over. At least that's the worst of her worries. Otherwise, he's been a very agreeable living partner, even putting his shoes away instead of leaving them out after the time she almost tripped on them with an armful of groceries.

Brenda peeks inside cabinets and checks the bathtub, annotating as she goes on her clipboard.

“Are your medicines kept secure and in a child-safe place?” she asks, looking to Scully.

“Yes, I was a doctor before I left to join the FBI,” she answers readily. “I can assure you that I know all the dangers and keep them stored safely.”

Brenda nods, seemingly impressed. 

“A doctor,” she says. “Do you have any experience with children’s medicine?”

Scully shakes her head. “Just a rotation in med school,” she answers honestly. She knows realistically that this won't impact her chances of adopting, but still she wishes she had a better answer. “I, uh… went in a different direction.”

The woman smiles. “Not a problem, I was just curious. It’s good to hear that you have a background in medicine, that will certainly help.” Scully lets out a sigh of relief as Brenda scrawls something down, then turns her attention to her partner. “Mr. Mulder, what did you do before the FBI?”

The question catches Mulder off guard, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh, I– I got recruited not long after I completed my degree in psychology.”

“Did you ever practice?” Brenda asks.

“No, I didn’t.”

“But, I’m sure you have a general understanding of children’s psychology from your studies, yes?”

Scully looks to Mulder, curious about his answer herself.

“I do, yeah,” he says. “But, actually, most of my knowledge in that… area… comes from personal experience.”

The caseworker nods in understanding. “I hope you don’t mind my asking… I know this is a little less formal than our last interview, but I’d still like to be thorough.” The implication that he should expound on his answer is clear.

“No, I understand,” he says, nodding. “Uh, when I was twelve, my little sister disappeared. She was never found, and it… tore my family apart. I spent most of my adolescence bouncing between therapists until I went off to college in England.”

Brenda gives a sad shake of her head and makes a note.

“You two have quite a history,” she says, unmistakable traces of pity in her voice. “I can see why you were drawn to each other, and why you’re looking to start a family.”

Scully catches Mulder’s eye, and they share a look. This woman doesn't know the half of it, but she's right. Their bond is rooted deeper than most, deeper even than the average married couple.

All they want now is to move forward with their lives. To have a spot of sunshine after years of darkness and suffering. Somehow, that desire turned into the dream of starting a family, and it's hard to believe how far they've come in a few short months.

“I think I’ve seen enough in here,” Ms. Koske says, breaking the sullen silence that had fallen. “Would you mind showing me your room?”

“Of course,” Scully says, smiling a forced smile as she leads the way. “Our room.”

Because it is their room, as far as Brenda needs to be concerned. She doesn’t need to know that Mulder actually sleeps on the bed that’s in the spare bedroom, now that it’s been moved from his apartment. All it took was moving a few more of his personal belongings into Scully’s room and making his room look like a guest room, and their little white lie was perfected.

“Looks like you’ve got a good variety of reading material, here,” Brenda says, eyes trailing over the bookshelf. “Medical journals, Moby Dick … The Truth About Extraterrestrial Life Forms. That one’s… unique.”

“My husband is a big fan of science fiction,” Scully says, the explanation coming easily to her. She even managed to use the word “husband” without stuttering over it, for once. Easier than saying “Fox,” in all honesty.

When she looks up at said husband, though, he's suppressing an amused smile, and she shakes her head, her cheeks undoubtedly flushing pink.

Brenda nods at her answer, smiling warmly as she stands back up to her full height. “Yes, I can see that. You’ll have to make some space for children’s literature. They’re classics, but I love to recommend Dr. Seuss.”

Scully’s heart twists, and Mulder’s eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly, a meaningful look passing between them in the span of a second.

She doesn't want to get her hopes up yet, but…

“I’ll buy a whole other bookshelf, if I have to,” Mulder says eagerly, chuckling softly, and Scully feels herself fall even deeper in love with him.

Brenda pats him on the arm, an approving smile stretching her cheeks. 

“Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

-.-.-

The rest of the tour goes smoothly, and Brenda takes Scully up on her offer for tea prior to her departure.

The conversation topics are decidedly lighter as they sip on the warm drinks. Mulder regales her with tales of growing up on Martha's Vineyard, keeping things in the safer territory of beach days and riding bikes, rather than touching on his home life. 

Before long, their cups are empty and they get to their feet, moving slowly toward the apartment door.

“Well, everything looks good here,” Brenda says, tucking her clipboard into her bag. “Clean, not too small, good neighborhood, healthy food. Shouldn’t be too difficult to childproof, for however long you plan to stay here. And, your experience in medicine and psychology should certainly work in your favor.” 

Scully reaches a hand out and finds Mulder's, and he must have been searching for hers too, because he's right there, clasping her palm in his. 

“I have no qualms recommending you to our birth mother,” Brenda declares with a beaming smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to set up a meeting with her soon.”

She grabs Scully’s hand for a cordial handshake, then shakes Mulder's, and all the while Scully can scarcely move or breathe. Had she heard that correctly? They were really going to get a shot at this?

For the first time, she lets herself envision them with a child. Baby toys scattered on the living room carpet. Mushy baby food lining the shelves of her pantry. Mulder as a father, ever the involved parent like he says he wants to be.

That was something she hadn't ever truly allowed herself to imagine. Not even when embryos bearing his DNA had been implanted into her womb, while he waited supportively in the waiting area.

For the first time, it's real, and she can barely hold herself together.

Mulder thanks the woman for them both, smiling broadly as he opens the door for her, but Scully can't hear them over the sound of her heart racing. She manages to mumble a thank you and goodbye before the apartment door closes, unable to muster anything more substantial than that.

And the moment they're alone, tears erupt from her eyes, hot and wet on her cheeks.

Mulder doesn't waste a second pulling her into his arms, holding her tight to his chest. She feels herself being lifted a few inches off the ground, and he buries his face in her shoulder, grasping her securely around the waist. 

She can't speak, can't do anything but cry into his shoulder and picture their life together. Beyond the X-Files, beyond alien abductions and missing sisters. Finally, finally beyond manipulative ex-girlfriends and smoky shadow governments, who now lie in dirt and ashes.

There's a life for them, beyond, and she wants it now more than she ever thought she would.

“One step closer,” Mulder whispers into her neck, his voice choked with emotion.

She can only nod and hold him tighter in response.

~~~

Note: Apparently Hollywood A.D. takes place in January 2000?? I'm going with it.

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 @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

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

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧

note -> pls accept this little Scaramouche/gn!reader blurb from last year as an apology for being bad at updating? it was part of the original version of Heartstrings, but the plot has since changed anyway, so... ya.

warnings -> none; takes place after the delusion factory chapter in Inazuma; reader is a Fatui executive under Scaramouche with a vision that can heal...

words -> 1.9k

“You…” Your hands having risen instinctively at his appearance, you swallow thickly awhile trying to come up with a not-so-suspicious greeting. “Lord Scaramouche, sir, I-I… What are you doing here, sir?”

Arms crossed, chin raised, and eyebrow cocked, “I’ll have you answer that very same question for me. What business did you have at the Grand Narukami Shrine after dealing with the Traveler?”

“Er… being in Inazuma has left me feeling more spiritually inclined than normal, sir, so… I-I’ve decided to take up on religion,” you mumble flatly, immediately inwardly cursing at yourself for spouting such a shitty lie.

“Funny. Try again.” You sigh at him.

“I’d heard once… that you had ties here in Inazuma,” you start, your tone quieter than usual. “Rather than bother you with my questions, I… initially came here to check on the Traveler’s condition, but then… I ended up… speaking with Guuji Yae, but…”

Scaramouche shuffles his hands to his hips, looking almost pleased by the idea of you being turned away. “Oh, the fox woman wouldn’t tell you?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. When we started speaking of… other things, I decided I’d rather chance waiting for you to want to answer me, yourself, if I ever asked them. If you ever wanted to answer me.”

Scaramouche’s hard gaze seems to linger on you from beneath his hat, something that leaves you warm, cagey, and a little concerned that just maybe, he doesn’t believe your ignorance to be false, after all.

“I simply… was worried about you,” you add.

“Worried,” he parrots, sounding almost offended. “Why would I need you to worry about me?”

“If you’re suddenly seeing things as if I’m making you out as weak or as looking down on you, that’s not what’s happening here, sir.” Past him, you look to the cliffs you knew would eventually bring you to a lesser shrine but a moment after feeling the sharp crawl of electricity creep up your back. “Could we walk and talk, sir? The Electro energy the mountain channels is starting to fry the hair off my arms…”

“… fine.”

And so, you lead the way, trapped between the quiet of a promised conversation and your nerves, unable to speak and walk at the same time. It’s a surprise to you, just how patient the Balladeer is being. Perhaps in your constant busyness, with your typically need to leave your Harbinger stress-free from these menial duties, you’ve never truly noticed just how differently the man walking beside you treats you. How much more patience he has for you versus the rest of his underlings. It didn’t even have to do with you being his second-in-command, because if it were anybody else in your position, this conversation might not have gone so non-aggressively. At the very least, what’s mutual knowledge between the two of you is that your relationship has always been one of respect, and not one drowned for fear of him like the others have so easily admitted to.

Finally, having descended the rest of the mountain, now far away from the crackling and sizzling of its natural Electro pond, you lead the Balladeer to the front of the abandoned shrine, to sit at its steps and take a large breath. Scaramouche remains standing, arms at his sides, eyebrows now pinched.

“S-So… I just… recalled,” you clear your throat, eyes flitting up to meet his briefly before flying back down into your lap, “that you had a look on your face when the Tsaritsa gave the order to have us come out to Inazuma. I remember you once saying that you were from here, and I was only wanting to be prepared to help you in any way I could. And then, the next look on your face when you were given the Gnosis by Guuji Yae…”

“And so, your first choice of preparation was to go and gather intel on me from that fox envoy?” he queries.

“I-I suppose,” you murmur. “I didn’t want to overstep or… um…”

“Or what?”

“… or make you sad.” You finally look up at him, not in sudden confidence, but of the pure desire to simply look at him. As per usual, his impassiveness shines clear as day in the night air, illuminated by the lanterns glowing along the shrine’s engawa. “Lord Scaramouche, Lady Guuji Yae did not tell me of your history by my own request. Instead, she helped me reach a certain point of clarity of myself regarding you… That the reason I sought her out to speak about you was more b… because…”

“You’re burning the midnight oil, here, ______.”

You huff at him. “It’s because I’ve grown extremely fond of you,” you finally blurt. “Romantically, if that wasn’t clear. I-In other words, I believe I’ve fallen in love with you, Lord Scaramouche.”

… there is a moment of silence that leaves your heart aching. At the very least, you’d expected a retort, or a comment of disapproval for bothering him with something that might’ve seemed so trivial to a man like him, but in his wordlessness, he simply stands before you, eyes trained hard in your direction.

Throwing his foot up against one of the steps to your left, you find yourself suddenly trapped between him and the railing, the air in your chest swirling. And everything happens all too quickly – his hand finding the crown of your head to tilt it toward him; his gaze rising and falling between your widened eyes and your parted lips; his subtlety in wetting his own dried lips, tongue darting carefully past his teeth to soften them, before leaning into you and pressing them firmly against yours.

You can’t control the noise that escapes you, nor your instinct to brace yourself against your surroundings — the porch, the step beneath you, the railing, his chest — in your attempt at registering the Sixth Harbinger’s actions.

He is unmoving in them, indigo eyes half-lidded as he studies your face, your reaction to him. When he just barely moves his mouth upwards, his lower lip slotting between the two of yours, and carefully moves his hand to fall to your nape, he catches your flinch of surprise, feels your fingers tighten around the sleeves of his shirt. In pulling away, he hears your small noise of disappointment, and takes in the heat resting upon the apples of your cheeks.

“L-Lord Scaramouche,” you pant, and from the corner of your mouth, you lick away the bit of saliva that remained. Was it yours? His? He’s not sure he cares.

“What?” he says, tone accosting. “Wasn’t that the definition of the “love” that you desired from me? You and I have worked together for long enough to know that that is an undeniable impossibility, and yet you still decided that the best course of action to take would be a confession?”

“I-It’s not so simple like that!” you argue, and you push his leg off the step and stand up, now an extra foot or so taller than the man. “A confession – my confession to you – is not something so fleeting; it’s not some passing emotion I’ve suddenly started feeling because I spoke to Guuji Yae. This is something I know I’ve felt since the first days I began working for you, something I’ve tried to ignore for both our sakes, and for the longest time, it worked. I managed to be good at keeping our relationship professional.

“And you’re right— we have worked together long enough that I could feel safe in telling you my truth. All I could hope for was maybe some understanding, and in a long shot, maybe a bit of reciprocation. Either way, I’d at least have something off of my chest.” You glare down at the man, fingers twitching— “A-And just so you know, I’m going to be kissing you again after that, because speaking frankly, sir, you… are an awful kisser!” – before reaching for his shirt with them and tugging him up and toward you.

He jolts, thrown off by the height difference the staircase offered and by your sudden bravado, gripping at either railing of the shrine’s staircase. Your lips, as warm as the heat that seemed to radiate from you, as soft as he’d experienced them to be the first time he’d touched them, press against his. You can only dare in closing your eyes that he wouldn’t retaliate, but you still half-expect him to push you away and scold you, something said in his flavour of retaliation and ridicule. But his hands give rise to where your hands stretch out the material of his shirt, skinny fingers wrapping tightly around the bones of your wrists to spin you off the higher step and onto equal ground.

Pulling away from you, a smirk crawls onto his visage. “And who gave you permission to speak frankly in the first place?” he asks. You can’t tell if his tone is serious and taunting or humoured and teasing. You swallow when he leans further into you, your heart racing, his lips pausing just before your ear. “Insulting your superior officer,” he whispers to you, a dry chuckle escaping him a second later when he returns to face you. “That’ll get you places.”

Taunting and teasing, you decide shakily.

To your surprise, the Balladeer leans into you once more, his glistening, parted lips slotting between yours, hands slowly moving to take hold of your cheeks in his attempt at keeping you close. It’s sloppy, teeth clacking together at times, and a little wet, but your heart threatens to burst with joy and relief at his effort, his reciprocation being something you wouldn’t have expected him to put any into.

A hand of your own raises to take the smooth curve of his jawline into your palm. He mumbles against your murmurs, and grunts at the wet, wriggling sensation invading his mouth. Their tongue? he realizes, doing poorly to mask his shock at how pleasant he finds the feeling to be. Unpredictable as per his usual routine, he returns the gesture, his own joining with yours to swirl and dance in the space between you. The softest of moans escapes him, and he tears away from you, embarrassed and breathing sharply, his pale cheeks tinted with the softest of rouge and lips tainted by your mixture of saliva.

Your laughter is faint as you lick away the liquid gathered along your own.

“So…” Scaramouche glances at you from beneath his newly summoned hat, barely having time to recover when you’ve shot him a look unfamiliar to him—it’s startling, how warm it makes him feel; how unfocused his mind is when your gazes lock; how impossible he finds it to begin stringing words into a sentence after what he’d engaged in – dazed, your eyelids flutter on incident at him, and in that starstruck, awestruck daze, “Did any of that get me anywhere with you?”

— until these words exit your mouth, that is. Your flippant attitude was not something he’d accounted for in the aftermath, and even worse, you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability and weakness and decided to deliver them before he could collect himself.

“Something like that,” he says, tone breathy with exasperation, his eyes having rapidly widened at you. You chuckle nervously in response, daring to reach forward and adjust his slightly tilted kasa. He turns on the spot when you’re finished, clearing his throat, and beginning the rest of your descent down from the base of Mount Yougou. “Come along, then. We’ve got work to do.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

#*sobs* he's so dork-coded. #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x yn #kunikuzushi x y/n #wanderer x reader #wanderer x yn #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #genshin impact #✦ nc vb. #✦ genshin impact.

[inklessletter]

Confession time: I actually gave you a brush of this in previous confession times, but making the masterlist post I have just realized how brutally confident I just grew this June.

It's silly, but I'm getting emotional because of it. About eighteen months ago I started taking classes of digital art, although I've been drawing all my life, at some point I just stopped and it was suddenly ten years since I last picked up a pen and paper. I never, ever, have done digital art before last year.

It was good for me, I grew confident and I started showing what I did. I have very old folders full with traditional drawings since I was a little munchkin, but I have never shown those before in public. I wanted to take that back, the skill, the willing, the inspiration.

Last year I made some friends because of this artistic spree, but it ended up real bad. Like, real, real bad. Abandoning my nickname and fleeing social media for months bad. Going back to not showing my stuff in public. Losing everything I have been building up slowly, and that's how I got here.

I needed to leave my own mind behind and find something that gave me comfort and closure, so I came back to Stranger Things, something I liked in the loneliness of my bedroom, something that it felt like mine because no one around me loved it so much. I started reading fanfics, I've got a folder in my e-book with more than 200 of them (97% steddie). Then I started to feel that maybe I needed to take out some venom of my system, and I started writing some, even if it wasn't in my native language and I was terrified of making mistakes, because I just got the lesson that people hiding behind screens and shielded by anonymity could be ruthless, and cruel, and won't bat an eye if someone blatantly breaks you publicly.

But that didn't happen, and even if I had no range, I felt better writing, so I kept doing it. It felt like finally healing.

I eventually picked up the digital pencil again, believe me, with a lot of fear, after months of my last drawing. I'm talking from August to March. I just didn't want another ten years without drawing to pass. It felt like a baby step. A terrifying, unsure and shaking baby step.

I just didn't realize until today, making the masterlist, that I have done sixteen full illustrations in June. Sixteen. That's one (and a little bit) every two days. That's half a month drawing nonstop in my free time.

I don't know when I fell in love with it again.

I don't know many things.

But I know one: I'm grateful to be here, growing a little bit fearless everyday of just being me.

So, if you actually bothered to read all the way down here, let me thank you for being nice to a stranger. Keep doing it, you never know how much someone you don't know can be affected by a single nice act.

#inklessletter #confession time #i am so sorry this is long #sorry if i post about my emotions kind of often #i promised originally that this blog would be my emotional dumpster #but seriously #sometimes i need to take things out of my chest or they will grow wild #i hope you don't mind #you can just skip this

[praetorqueenreyna]

Chapter summary: Tamlin's sentries remain vigilant as Amarantha's curse wears on

I decided to make the next chapter of lovely and lonely for Tamlin Week, Day 5: Shapeshifter! Click here to read on AO3, or continue reading below!

@tamlinweek

18 years after the curse

Branches and leaves rushed by on either side of Lucien’s field of view. His paws pounded against the ground, sending up a spray of earth when he made a sharp turn. As a High Fae he was faster, but there was nothing like running as a wolf. His body flexed and loosened, responding instinctively before he even made a conscious decision. At the speed he was going, tripping on a root would send him flying through the air. Luckily, wolves didn’t trip.

He had lost his pursuers after a few switchbacks and wading through the river. His pointed ears flickered, rotating to catch every whisper of the forest. He risked slowing down to a trot, red tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting. His breath steamed up in front of him in the cool morning air. Padding along, he put his nose to the ground and inhaled. He caught the scent of his quarry and took off in that direction. The scent was strong; he was close.

Suddenly, a shape barreled out of the trees from his left and slammed into him. With a yelp, Lucien tumbled head over heels, losing all sense of direction. Before he could come to his senses, his attacker slammed him in the chest with a pair of enormous black paws and howled triumphantly.

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shaking himself free.

“C’mon Luce, don’t be a sore loser,” the other wolf grinned, displaying wickedly sharp teeth. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

The creature that Lucien had been seeking, a glorious golden wolf with elk antlers, emerged from the brush. “Did we win?” he asked as he sat down and began scratching under his chin with a hind foot.

“Not yet.” With a bound, Lucien leapt onto Tamlin, sending them both to the ground in a heap. Andras, the large black wolf, whooped with delight and joined the fray. Tamlin managed to wriggle free and take off running, and the chase began again.

Now that they no longer were sending fae across the Wall to fulfill Amarantha’s terms, the Spring Court had fallen into an uneasy limbo. The sentries patrolled the borders as usual, the citizens attempting to get back to their normal life. More and more dark beasts were making their way into the forest, and constant vigilance was required. Tamlin and Lucien spent hours every day poring over old manuscripts and sending messages to other enchanters, desperately searching for another way to break the curse. Still, more often than not, things felt right. Like nothing had ever happened.

*******************

34 years after the curse

When things were good, they were really good. Isolated from the other High Lords and usual Prythian politics and surrounded by those who knew what they were to each other, Tamlin and Lucien were in a blissful bubble. They held hands, they kissed, they drew each other into abandoned closets and hallways when the heat between them grew unbearable. Tamlin’s sentries loved him, and they had grown to love Lucien as well. When they were together, it was easy to forget how the rest of the world had fallen apart.

Unfortunately, Amarantha’s presence hovered over the land like a poisonous cloud, pressing in on their happiness. Whenever news came through of some new atrocity she had committed, Tamlin became withdrawn and surly. The monsters that she sent were attacking and killing his soldiers. Whenever it seemed things couldn’t get worse, they did. Just this morning, they had received a missive that three of the six High Lords being held captive had been executed, along with their families. Amarantha claimed that they had been conspiring against her. Who knew if that was even the case, or if she had concocted an imaginary plot in order to slake her thirst for violence.

Tamlin was inconsolable. He sprawled in his armchair, staring listlessly at the fire that Lucien had started with a wave of his hand. The only movement he made was to bring the glass of whiskey clutched in his hand up to his mouth. It wouldn’t be long before he discarded the glass in favor of the bottle. In this mood, there was nothing Lucien could do to comfort him. He thought that he needed to be miserable, that it was what he deserved.

Of course, that couldn’t stop Lucien from trying. He paced back and forth between Tamlin’s bedroom and sitting room, casting about for something, anything, that could drag his High Lord out of the darkness. On his fiftieth lap, his gaze landed on something that he had never dared try before.

“What are you doing?” Tamlin asked, too depressed to be suspicious when Lucien settled himself on the footstool next to him. His glazed expression sharpened when he realized what Lucien had in his hands.

“Cheering you up.” In all their time together, Lucien had never picked up Tamlin’s fiddle. It was something so personal, so deeply intertwined with the Spring Lord, that touching it would be tantamount to reaching into his chest and pulling out his heart. The instrument was heavier than he had expected, and it took some awkward finagling to get it braced under his chin. With his other hand, he drew the bow across the strings of the fiddle. Even he was surprised by the discordant wail that he produced—it was nothing like the light, elegant music that Tamlin was able to create. He struggled gamely onward, peering up at Tamlin through his eyelashes. At first, Tamlin merely looked confused. That quickly morphed into annoyance. He was clenching his jaw, the muscle in his cheek twitching every time Lucien played a particularly ear-splitting shriek.

“Give me that!” Tamlin lunged forward and snatched his precious instrument away, saving both it and their ears from Lucien’s offensive attempt at music.

“You didn’t like it?” Lucien asked, all innocent wide eyes.

“You’re a menace.” With a grumble, Tamlin settled the fiddle in its rightful place in the curve of his neck. He closed his eyes and began to play, a mournful dirge that made Lucien’s heart swell for reasons he couldn’t explain. Tamlin continued the song, which was not really a song but a melancholy story that rambled and swirled through the air like dandelion fluff. Lucien slid from his seat onto the floor, resting his chin on his folded arms that in turn rested on Tamlin’s thigh. He stared up at the High Lord, drinking in the flush on his cheeks and the soft smile that had emerged. Tamlin’s eyes were still closed, his blonde lashes laying prettily against his tanned skin.

The final notes of the song reverberated through the air. Tamlin laid his fiddle and bow down on the carpet next to his chair, alongside the abandoned whiskey bottle. “Come here,” he beckoned Lucien with a crooked finger. Lucien obeyed, crawling up Tamlin’s body and settling on his lap. It was his favorite place to be, curled up like a cat in Tamlin’s arms.

“You’re too good to me,” Tamlin murmured against his hair.

“Nothing’s too good for you.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #pro tamlin #tamcien #tamlin/lucien #tamlin/lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #tamlin week #tamlinweek #tamlin week 2024 #tamlinweek2024 #fanfic #my fic #day 5

[musing-and-music]

Royai week 2023 fic recs

In honor of Royai week in the Fruits & Roots server, I chose to highlight some of my favorite Royai fics I gathered these past years (not many years, since I've been on AO3 for 2 years and a half only). Each day, I'll recommend a few fics in a particular setting

Day 3: Heredity - Post-Canon fics

There's so many good post-canon fics that I had to make a choice among all the ones I have! Post-canon is so vast, it can go from right after Promised Day to Roy and Riza's old days after they've done everything they had to do. This will be one of the longest rec lists I'll do this week!

Heartbeat (series) by nightofnyx8 / @nightofnyx8

There is only one room in the Mustang household that has never been used. The walls are white, painted with butterflies, and the cradle sits just below the window. A small white dresser stands in the corner, with silver fastenings on each drawer. It holds not patterned clothes or socks lined with lace, just two white boxes that sit right atop. Mother's Day piece for the one and only Riza Hawkeye.

Roy Mustang has a basic understanding of what a father shouldn’t do: don’t run off and abandon your family, don’t transmute your child into a doomed chimera, don’t tattoo your alchemic research onto your daughter’s back— But as to what a father should do…well, that was a different matter entirely. Father's Day Piece for Roy Mustang

You'll end up believing I only rec fics that make me cry, but I swear, if I cry while reading something, that means the author has found the right words to move me, and that's (for me) the best indicator (with laughing) of a writer's quality. And that author is amongst my favorites!

Roy and Riza Observation Journal by hanamuri / @hanamuri

Rumor has it, Roy and Riza are having an illicit affair. No, Riza’s just one name in his list of exes, sprung another one. Actually, nothing is going on between them, buzzed hearsay. The debate remained endless on the unspoken question everyone has on this impeccable duo: what’s up with these two?

A must read (must re-read for me)! Affectionately shortened to RROJ, this fic brings light on Royai through the eyes of the people who know them

on the brink of discovery by vadeofspades / @mayfieldarc

In which Roy and Riza are trying (and failing) to keep their relationship a secret from Team Mustang on their first day back to Central.

You want to smile? Read this one!

The Amestrian Waltz by raisingmybanner

A story about noticing the things that have been under your nose the whole time, and a story about deciding when to finally let them free. An orange sweater, a shape in the clouds, a protector of the stars. "Who are you?" a little boy asks. "I was your lieutenant," replies a woman with a cracked heart, unsure what else to say.

A tag to give this one? #oh my heart

Partiality by Dailenna / @dairogo

Roy is given the chance to take care of Black Hayate while Riza is in hospital after the Promised Day, and it provokes a lot of thought about changes that could occur.

I'm partial about this one, since it's my gift for last year's Secret Santa, but I loved it, and the hope in it is strong!

Your Warmth Against My Scars by lassus / @lassusog

“How have you been?” his doctor asks him after a moment. “Fine,” Roy responds, calmy. He is, really. Mostly he feels numb. And tired. And his scars hurt, sure. On the whole, nothing out of the ordinary. “Have you been experiencing any pain in the areas with scar tissue?” Every waking moment. But it’s fine. Really. “Not much.” Harris frowns. “I want to help you, you know,” he tells him. “I know,” he brings himself to say. His doctor sighs heavily. “How are things at work?” Harris asks, after a minute. Roy has to look away, suddenly. It doesn’t take long for the numbness to wash over him again though, thankfully. “Fine too.” (Or, Roy's still healing wounds, excessive work and an argument with his Lieutenant slowly take their toll on him.)

Such a great exploration of Roy's character and his stubbornness!

and when you can't rise (i'll crawl with you on hands and knees) by starsinherblood / @jedidragonwarriorqueen

Attacked on their way home from a diplomatic trip to Drachma, General Mustang and Captain Hawkeye find themselves contending with a group of insurgents, but the odds are stacked against them.

I'm feral about this one, about the tension and the angst in it!! It's only 4 chapters long, and I can tell you there's no way to get bored while reading!

For better or worse by zipadeea / @zipadeea

Roy and Riza always thought all they needed to be happy in life was each other. Then, they meet two Ishvalan orphans who teach them just how wrong they are. (Or: Mustang and Hawkeye fall in love and start a family. The process is just as conventional as you'd expect; which is to say, not at all.)

I devoured this fic in one night, and I loved every part of it. It's moving and serious but filled with so much love!

Riza Shaves the Day by sootyfeathers / @sootyfeathers

Soaking wet and out of breath, the pouring rain hadn’t stop Roy from sprinting the entire way to Riza’s apartment in the dead of night. He’s convinced her life is in danger, but it’s really him that needs to be saved. And shaved.

From angst to fluff

[podfic] Never knew I could feel like this by klainelynch / @klainelynch (once again)

After their first kiss, Roy reflects on the depth of his affection for Riza.

Short and sweet, a soft moment for Royai

New Beginning by VillainousMiss / @villainousmiss

A small blurb of Roy and Riza's reactions to a particular order Fuhrer Grumman put into place.

So much hope in this short one-shot!!!

#royai #royai week #royai week f&r #fma #fanfic recs

[punkzines]

TFP SOUNDWAVE X READER SHORT

reader just loves aliens.kinda.

a/n: let me just say this has been sitting in my drafts for like months…i might make this into mult. chapters…

In a moment of fear you had tried to escape, free yourself from the tight grasp of a tentacle-like cord that made itself oddly comfortable around your waist. It was mad, the whole situation seemed unreal.

But it was real.

How much you wish it wasn’t.

You couldn���t believe you were planning on doing something so reckless, so foolish. But it had to be done. There were too many rumors, too many sightings— consequences and conspiracies. You needed to do something, find out the truth.

You were a simple being, driven by curiosity and the thirst of knowledge. Knowledge wasn’t something you obtained easily though, as you were a low income student going to a local community college: Jasper, Nervada College. You had limited resources, oftentimes your power or internet ran out. But that was the reason why you went out. And why you are doing what you’re doing.

As of recent years, many people have reported sightings of UFO’s lurking around Jasper, Nevada. At first, you couldn’t consider the possibility. It was absurd, what would aliens want to do with Earth out of all the other planets that are so much better? But then— power outages, numerous reports— videos and photos that couldn’t be explained, and seemed too real to be edited, brought you a certain type of thrill you just simply couldn’t ignore.

So, you did what anyone would do, you’ve spent the last two years researching, and investigating. Looking around sites strangely suddenly closed by the government, staying up late because what alien wouldn’t wander around the night where they couldn’t be spotted? You collected newspapers, anything that would help. You admit, you never really found any evidence. There were times you thought you saw something strange at a car garage, some tall dark figure far away from a cliff, everything was so close yet you never actually got anywhere. Dead ends were becoming so common.

The drought of information made you consider giving up— what was the point? If there really were aliens, what could you hope to ever do with that information? Would you expose them? Profit off of them? You were in debt. But like always, the thoughts holding you back were the ones that brought you a step forward. You don’t know how they did it but they did. You were just magical like that.

For the past 6 months you’ve been contemplating on sneaking into an old, unused military base(you don't recall why it was abandoned, but maybe it was something you could now find out!) It was the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve thought about doing. You planned on using your skills and gathering any information you could. Anything, who knows, maybe your tech skills would’ve been useful. You were at risk of being found out, jailed, but you were certain the place wasn’t used anymore— you’ve been watching it for some time already after getting off from college and work. You also had nothing to lose.

But of course, life ends up biting you in the ass. The fucking alien had to come to the same place as you did AND at the same time.

The tall metallic soulless creature brings you up rather quickly (giving you a scary view of its entire body) to its head— or what you assume is its head— and simply stares at you. Your head is spinning, things are happening too quick, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Compared to your heavy breathing, you’re not even sure you can sense it breathing.

“Let me go!” The demand practically goes unheard, as the robot creature does not stop its actions, but instead a purple light passes up and down your body, much like a scanner. You can’t let that stop your struggles.

You trashed around the grasp, elbowing, punching, anything to set you free. It was futile- escaping from the grasp, you knew it, yet you still tried. Briefly, you see some type of statistical analysis, if that’s what you could even call it— written in some type of strange code you’ve never seen before until you spot something familiar— your face.

You paused your attempts, body going still stricken with a deep feeling of dread. “What are you doing?” You asked, voice breaking down in fear. Was it information about you? Was it going to send it to someone? What if all this time you’ve been wrong and you’ve just stepped into some military government trap? This couldn’t be…

The screen goes blank. Your heart sinks as you see your reflection on the screen. You two were the only ones in this dark room, but the silence was so strong, it felt as if there was a third presence.

You couldn’t breathe— you were going to die. You really didn’t want to jump into conclusions so quickly, but if this robot was what you’ve been trying to prove was here on Earth… you were certain your death would be coming any second now.

Just as you thought of your goodbyes to the world and anyone who had been remotely kind to you, the cord around your waist starts to make its grasp harder on your waist, knocking out any air. It hurt.

In instinct you suck in your stomach but it does not alleviate the pain. Crying out in pain you try to escape the grasp, however the pain makes it hard to do so. You wanted this to be over— “If you’re going to kill me, at least make it painless-” You choke out, but are cut short when another cord hrabs your face harshly— gripping it tightly.

Your vision is gone, and your senses heightened. Why is this happening to me?You move your hands from the cord on your waist to the one on your face, trying to remove it.

It was getting harder to breathe, you figure from the lack of oxygen you're getting. Punching the cord wasn’t working, it hasn’t been. You were trapped.

Your body betrays you as your heartbeat begins to slow down, your eyes start growing heavy. Your hands fall from the cord connected to your face as you go limp.

#transformers #soundwave #tfp #tfp soundwave #x reader

[sister-juniper]

Safe With Me (Terzo x Reader)

Prompt was suggested by @saruman-the-silly

feel free to comment with any suggestions for oneshots :3

★ Angst with comfort/fluff :) ★

my ao3

my wattpad

☆ Word count: 1252 ☆

⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹

You were lounging on the bed in Papa Terzo's quarters. He was out for the day, as Papa Emeritus he is incredibly busy. You as a sibling of sin don't have very many duties, especially since you began seeing Papa. He had gotten you excused from most of your duties.

You were relaxing in the black and purple bedding, the time was 8:00 pm. You could see the sun setting beautifully through the massive window behind his desk. Terzo should be back within an hour at most. You were excited! You had been longing to see him all day. You were quite attached to him, he made you feel the safest and most loved you have felt in years.

Suddenly, you feel your phone buzzing next to you on the sheets. Not really wanting much social interaction with others at the moment, you groan in dissatisfaction as you grab the phone and look at the screen. It is an unknown number. That's weird...

You press the button to answer and hold the phone up to your ear. An all too familiar voice fills your ears.

"Y/N, where have you been?"

It is your father. 

You had fled your home in search of something better a few years ago, and in doing so you found the ministry. You had blocked everyone including both of your parents. They were conservative and abusive. You never, ever, wanted to hear from them again. 

Your breath was caught in your throat. How on earth did they get your number? 

"U-um. Hi" you choked out

"Y/N, answer me. Where have you been?!?" your father yells over the phone

You curl your knees to your chest "I ran away..."

"We have been trying to get in touch with you for years! How dare you just abandon us like that!!"

You want to hang up. You want to so badly, but your body and mind just won't let you. Part of you is too afraid to.

"Y/N, answer me this instant!!"

"I am staying somewhere else..." you say as tears prick at your eyes

"Tell me more..." your father states sternly

"No, im not going to!" you yell into the phone

"Y/N!! How dare you raise your voice at me!! Has the devil gotten to you or something?" Your father screams

Your body starts to shake, you feel yourself beginning to be on the urge of a panic attack. You must stay strong though, you must.

"You need to come home this instant. You have brought shame to our community..."

"NO! Im not doing that. I am happy where I am!"

"Stupid child, I am your father. You. Listen. To. Me!"

"I am an adult, I make my own decisions!!" You scream as tears stream down your face

"Not in our community you don't. I still make the decisions."

"Well fuck that. Im not in the community anymore!"

"Cursing now huh? What has gotten into you??"

You clench the phone in your hand as your breathing speeds up "Im happier now. Just leave me alone."

"This is what the outside world does to you. It brainwashes you! You cannot be happier"

"Well, I am. Deal with it, Dad."

"All that's out there is hellish and the devil. There is nothing good."

"Who says the devil is bad?" You say quietly into the phone

"Who says?? Everyone says!! What is your problem?? Are you nuts?!"

Now you are sobbing, and trying desperately to control your breathing. Him speaking to you again after years absolutely terrifies you. It was one of your worst nightmares after leaving the community, and now it is happening. But you cannot show your weak side to him, you must stay strong.

"The devil sure is better than you ever were."

Before your father can respond, you hang up the phone. You throw your phone down on the bed and curl up in a fit of sobs. You can't believe what had just happened. His voice brought you back to years ago when you were living under his roof.

Your breathing is frantic, and your entire body is shaking. You are having a panic attack and you know it. 

Very soon, Terzo has arrived back. You hear the faint sound of keys turning the doorknob and suddenly the two of you are in the room together. He takes in the sight of your shaking figure and panicked, tear-stricken face and he is immediately filled with concern.

"Mio caro, what happened? Is everything okay?" He questions as he approaches you

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a pained sob. Terzo sits on the bed and pulls you into his embrace.

"Hey... it's gonna be okay yes? Im right here..."

You bury your face in his chest and sob into his arms. He rubs your back and kisses the top of your head in an attempt to comfort you.

"I love you... everything will be alright.. you are safe with me..."

"I-I love you too.." you say through sniffles

After around 10 minutes, you can feel your breathing beginning to become more normal, and you start to calm down. Your tears stop flowing, and he holds you close. You lift your head up to look at him.

"Do you want to talk about what happened amorina? Only if you want" he says with a soft smile

"Yeah, I do..."

He lets go of you so you can sit up and look at him face-to-face.

"I got a call from a random number. I answer it, and it is my father on the other end of the line..."

Terzo is taken aback "Your father? Cazzo... you told me about him.."

"Yeah, him. Well, he had apparently been trying to contact me for years and he wasn't too happy.."

"He yelled at me, he said a lot of nasty things, but I didn't show him my weak side"

Terzo puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Whatever nasty thing he said is not true you know. You are perfect"

You smile a little "Thank you..."

"He said a lot of things about how the devil is getting to me. I guess that part is true" you say with a small chuckle

Terzo smiles in return "Sí, the devil is not bad. It is how you found this ministry, it is how you found me"

"I am a little scared though..."

"Why is that? You are safe with me, you are always going to be safe with me"

"I don't know.. what if he finds me somehow?"

Terzo sighs and pulls you close to him again. "He will never be able to get you. I will always be by your side"

"What about when you are on tour? When you are busy?"

"Ah well, I can just have a ghoul keep watch over you. They will tear the hands off anyone who tries to harm you"

You smile against his chest "Okay... thank you Terz..."

Terzo presses a kiss to your forehead "Of course mi amore, do you feel a bit better now?"

"Yes.. I do.."

"Good! Im glad. Just remember, im always by your side forever. No matter what"

You sit up and press a kiss to his lips. You pull back and the two of you look deep into each others' eyes.

"You are everything to me amore, always remember that. Your father is not here to hurt you any longer. It is just you and I now"

He pulls you into another kiss. You will be forever thankful that the dark lord has blessed you with the life you have currently. It is out of your wildest wishes, and you never want it to end. You are safe, you no longer live with your abusive family. 

You are safe in the arms of Terzo Emeritus, you are safe within the walls of the Ministry, for all eternity.

⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊ ☆₊ ⊹

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #papa emeritus fanfiction #the band ghost #ghost terzo #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus lll #terzo emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus terzo #terzo #terzo fanfiction #terzo my beloved #terzo x reader #papa iii #papa emeritus the third #papa emeritus fic #papa emeritus x reader #ghost the band #angst with a happy ending #angst #fluff #angst and fluff #ghost angst #terzo angst #papa emeritus iii x reader #band ghost #ghost x reader

[nightserf]

Walking Dead New Frontier Hot Take:

People who dislike Kate for "cheating" on David are being misogynistic. The Walking Dead is a series that explores human nature when a stable society has collapsed. There are many bad parts of this, lack of medical care and laws to protect people, but this is one good thing about the apocalypse. People can start over. Lee got to start over and redeem himself (after literally killing someone, but sure, go off on Kate). Outside of the established norm people are able to change and make new choices.

David was emotionally and verbally abusive to Kate. He's angry, unstable, and jealous. She is only still married to him because she believes in the societal institution of marriage and feels trapped in her life the way it is.

When everything falls apart, what does it mean to be married? People steal now, they kill in self defense, people make difficult decisions for their own well-being. Kate does not have to remain loyal to David anymore. She has been provided with more agency and a new start, the ability to make a choice that is better for her. She clearly is afraid of David, and I can't be convinced David actually likes or cares about her as a person. When David sees her again, he just immediately assumes she will go back to being his wife without a single conversation with her. He just thinks, "Oh cool, my property is back."

Imagine thinking you're free from your abuser and then they suddenly reappear in your life and try to force you back into the role you had with them before. I was horrified for her. She must have felt devastated.

Kate did absolutely nothing wrong by not remaining loyal to an abusive man (WHO WAS ABOUT TO ABANDON HIS FAMILY BE RE-ENLISTING IN THE ARMY JUST TO GET AWAY FROM THEM) and actually fostering a relationship with Javi, a man who is kind, respectful and supportive to her. She risks her safety to free Javi and help him. She is loyal to the man who is loyal to her. She backs up Javi again and again.

People who hate Kate for being a "cheater" are operating on the sexist belief that marriage makes a woman a mans property for the rest of her life, no matter how he treats her, even if she had no reason to believe he was alive for the last 5 fucking years.

Kate Garcia did NOTHING wrong. Ya'll just aren't the girls-girls you think you are 😤

#twdg #kate twdg #kate garcia #david garcia #javi garcia #twdg season 3 #twdg a new frontier

[bohemian-nights]

I think daemyras' worst headcanon/disillusionment about Daemon is that he loves Rhaenyra's bastards as if they were his own (I get chills when I see them putting Daemon as their big daddy) whilebin the show what is shown he is indifferent to them at the very least and at most he feels irritated that Weak boy #1 wants to boss him around, what makes it worse is that they saw him being an absent father to the twins, but suddenly, he's an excellent stepfather to the bastards just because they are the children of his "soulmate" and he loves everything connected to her 🥴I always had the impression that Daemon wanted a boy so much since he was still married to Laena because he knew that Weak boys were bastards and that that would be enough to take her away of the succession and he needed a male heir to be able to challenge his nephews with the power of House velaryon behind him after all, it is not said that House Velaryon could challenge both the Green and Blacks when did Daemon marry Laena? I'm not saying that he didn't love her and wasn't happy with her, because I believe that he really liked her and her free spirit, but that the marriage did have political reasons behind it and there is nothing wrong with that, by the great council of 101 daemon had a claim too, which was certainly more legitimate than rhaenyra's after she committed high treason

I think their most delusional take is that Missy Anne was his soulmate(we all want our soulmate to abandon us when we've lost our marbles for another woman and chokegate), but that kinda ties into this take.

The fact of the matter is if Daemon really truly viewed those boys as his sons(and if he loved everything about Miss Maegor) this would've never happened:

Imagine getting your a** handed to you as a child(in a 4 on 1 fight) to where you need your younger brother to come save you and yet you still haven't learned how to fight six years later. I almost feel bad for laughing, but this is downright comical🤣

Anyone who thinks the Rogue Prince Daemon freaking Targaryen would let his sons go around not knowing how to at least protect themselves is a moron.

I'm not going to comment on it further cause what more needs to be said🤷🏽‍♀️

Show!Daemon really is a father to no one. Book!Daemon is a little better(hey at least he's not a misogynist towards his daughters), but ultimately he leaves his children to fend for themselves* after falling into a depression cause in order to save Nettles he had to let her go. He's not winning Father of the Year anytime soon.

*If he actually wanted to save them he would’ve gone back to Kings Landing like Missy Anne wanted him to, in order to sort things out and get back-up to help him defeat Aemond/Vhagar. Does he do that? Only in a Dumbnyra fanfic ☕️

Moving on, I do believe Daemon found Laena to be very alluring I think it's pretty obvious he loved her, but yeah their marriage was politically motivated.

He knew what he was doing when he married her(especially given how her parents were butthurt over being snubbed twice over). He probably was very likely to stake his own claim to the throne(although that would've involved usurping Aegon, but I don't think he'd have a problem with that). There's no way Daemon doesn't at least try to ensure his own flesh and blood wears the crown.

This is why Nettles was Daemon’s purest love/relationship. She offered nothing and I do mean absolutely nothing to him, not titles, not blood, not a crown, not armies and yet homeboy was ready to end it all cause of her. He abandoned his queen for her. He was going to give up his life for hers. He might've even lived and crawled back to her(queue Hozier Work Song🎵). That's his soulmate right there🫀

Is it perfect, no. Daemon is a piece of sh*t, he's old as hell and he keeps getting with girls/women half his age. He murdered children. The man straight-up abandoned his family. I mean I love him as much as GRRM does, but he's the worst(well second worst cause of Gollum who should've been thrown in the fire), but he did love Nettles and he saved her(she’s my fave so I won’t hate)☺️

#bnasks #bnask #i love him #he's a mess but I love him #these fans are delusional #this man cared about basically no one #daemon targaryen x nettles #nettles #daemon targaryen #dettles #daemon targaryen x laena velaryon #daela #laena velaryon #miss maegor #anti dumbnyra #anti dumbnyra stans

[silentsneezes]

i haven’t written any fics in months, but here we are! this is a m/arauders fic and takes place during their seventh year when they’re all 19

wolfstar will eventually be paired together, but in this part they’re just pining. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy sick s/irius b/lack as much as i do :)

The Hogwarts campus was unusually empty over the Christmas break, which Remus relished. He much preferred being able to wander around the castle, occasionally making additions to the Marauders Map. The map was nearly complete now that the marauders were seventh years.

It was past curfew, but Filch had given up patrolling the corridors over break- his cat Ms. Norris didn’t like the cold. This meant Remus had practically had free reign over the castle for the past week. James and Peter had both gone home for the holidays. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn’t allowed home this Christmas. He’d received a howler from his mother after pulling a particularly nasty prank on the Slytherin house- even at 19, Sirius was hellbent on pranking his rival house.

Remus and Sirius had been lazing around all week, occasionally playing exploding snap or looking through Peter’s collection of chocolate frog cards. It was nice, having the dorms to themselves. Except for the past few days, Sirius had barely been in the dorm.

Remus wasn’t sure why, but Sirius had been avoiding him like the plague since Sunday. By the time Remus woke up, Sirius was always gone, and he didn’t return to the dorm until late at night, when he’d close his curtains around his bed without saying a word to Remus.

The werewolf found himself over analyzing everything he’d said before Sirius suddenly distanced himself, but he couldn’t think of anything that would’ve provoked his friend.

He’d finally thought he was making progress, that maybe his crush on Sirius wasn’t as world-ending as he initially believed, but it was clear to him that wasn’t true.

Remus tugs the Marauders Map out of his pocket, feeling a sudden rush of frustration with Sirius. He searches the map, eventually finding a little tag that reads ‘Sirius Black’ in a bathroom on the fourth floor.

Remus sets off. He doesn’t know what he wanted to accomplish in finding Sirius, but he’s tired of wasting his break alone.

The werewolf smells Sirius before he enters the bathroom. His senses were always heightened near the full moon, which was only a few days away. Remus walks into the bathroom quietly, surprised to see that Sirius isn’t in a stall. He’s standing in front of the mirror, his shoulders slumped in an entirely ‘un-noble’ fashion- his parents would’ve been seething.

Sirius doesn’t notice as Remus enters the room, he’s preoccupied as his breath catches delicately. He snaps forwards, pressing a handkerchief to his face and sneezing wetly.

‘hh’rRSCHHh! heh-eETXCHhew!’

Remus stays frozen to the spot as he watches Sirius sniffle pathetically into the handkerchief.

“Bless you” He says after a moment.

Sirius whips around, straightening his posture and tucking the handkerchief in his pocket.

“Wha-,” Sirius relaxes a little when he realizes who it is, “Jesus Moony, you gave me a heart attack”

Remus grins a little, holding back from retorting ‘you deserved it’. He isn’t in the mood to bicker, not with Sirius, anyways.

“So, what’re you doing camped out in a bathroom?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at Sirius. The longer he looks at the black haired boy, the more his worry grows. Sirius is paler than usual, his typical cocky posture abandoned in a slump, his eyes glassy, and his nose looking pink and sore.

Sirius shrugs, “What? I’m not allowed to piss now?” He jokes with a grin. He’d always been quick at making excuses. If Remus didn’t know him so well, he might’ve believed Sirius.

“Right. So you haven’t been avoiding me because you're sick?” Remus replies bluntly. It didn’t take a genius to realize the black haired boy was ill, and Remus wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Sirius looks back guiltily, but his response is firm.

“I’m not sick.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. He knows how stubborn Sirius can be about ‘showing weakness’, which was stupid in Remus’s opinion. Everyone gets sick, it’s just a part of life.

“Fine,” he says simply, not looking away from Sirius.

“Fine,” Sirius repeats, crossing his arms and returning Remus’s stare. Neither breaks eye contact, refusing to be the first to look away and accept defeat. Remus is about to give in when Sirius suddenly twists away from him, burying his face in his elbow.

‘hH’NGXxCHT! n’ZSXCH-schh!’

Sirius struggles to stifle the double, which comes in quick succession. He straightens up, his face a little flushed with embarrassment.

“Bless you,” Remus offers. He holds his tongue yet again. He wants to yell at the other boy, to tell him he’s obviously sick. Most of all, Remus wants to take care of him. Sure, Sirius is 19 and more than capable of riding out a cold alone, but the werewolf can't help but feel protective.

“Thangks,” Sirius cringes at the congestion in his voice, pressing the handkerchief to the base of his nose, but refusing to blow it in front of Remus.

Remus shifts his weight to one leg, wincing exaggeratedly. It does exactly as he’d hoped: Sirius’s expression crumples worriedly, “Is your hip bothering you?”

Remus shrugs, leaning against the bathroom wall, “Not much,” he replies simply. Sirius rolls his eyes at this answer.

“And you say I’m stubborn,” Sirius taunts, a grin tugging at his lips, “C’mon, let’s go back to the dorm so you can sit”

Remus nods, feeling an odd sense of pride that his plan had worked. He knew Sirius would never go back to the dorm due to his own illness, but if Remus was in pain, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“H-hold on,” Sirius pauses as they leave the bathroom. He presses his wrist against the base of his nose, trying to quell the itch. His eyelashes flutter as his breath somes in quiet gasps for a few seconds. He turns away from Remus as he sneezes against his wrist.

‘hh’NGKk!’

Sirius manages to stifle the first sneeze entirely, but it does nothing to stop the itch.

‘heh-hhH’ngk-tSCHEW! hhrRSSCH!’

The third sneeze escapes unstifled, and Sirius flushes red. He sniffles wetly and turns his back towards Remus while he wipes at his nose (and sleeve, which was considerably damper after the triple).

Remus busies himself with looking at his watch, trying his best not to make Sirius any more embarrassed than he already was.

“Bless you” Remus says once Sirius turns back to him, offering the sick boy a little smile. Sirius nods his thanks and starts walking towards the Gryffindor common room.

Sirius’s sniffles become increasingly frequent as they make their way closer to the portrait of the fat lady. Remus can’t help but glance over at Sirius every few seconds.

In fact, the werewolf is so focussed on Sirius that he doesn’t think twice about the sinking step in the North stairwell. Sirius doesn’t remember to skip the step either, his brain is muddled in a sick haze.

Both boys sink into the stairwell when they reach the sinking stair. Sirius yelps and braces himself with Remus’s arm.

Remus feels his hip pop painfully as his leg sinks into the trick step. He ignores the throbbing sensation traveling from his hip to his knee and makes sure Sirius stays upright.

“Shit. Why haven’t they fixed this fucking stairwell yet,” Remus snaps frustratedly.

Sirius grins affectionately, pulling himself upright and then offering Remus his hand.

“You have to admit it’s kind of funny to watch Peter fall” Sirius says playfully as he helps Remus out and then continues up the stairwell. Remus couldn’t deny that it was a little funny. Peter, who had always been the runt of the friend group, failed to remember the trick step every time. James and Sirius always guffawed as their friend sank into the stairs, but they helped him out every time.

“Fair enough,” Remus shrugs. He considers saying more, but one glance at Sirius tells him the other boy isn’t listening. His eyebrows are furrowed, his nose twitching and his hand hovering in front of his face.

‘hh-heh’

Sirius’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t sneeze. Sirius whines and rubs at his nose roughly with the handkerchief.

“God! Can’t I just sneeze already?” He says exasperatedly. A smile tugs at Remus’s lips, and he nudges Sirius’s arm with his own.

“Let’s get back to the dorm,” Remus instructs, his voice soft, but authoritative. Sirius nods, keeping one finger tucked under his nose as they continue walking.

that’s the end of part one! i’m not sure if anyone is interested in the m/arauders, but i’m hyperfixated on them, so ofc i had to write a snzfic

also MINORS DNI !! this is a fic written about adults by an adult.

#sneeze kink #sneezefucker #sneeze blog #snzblr #sneeze thoughts #snzfics #cold sneezes

[mailmiocuoredipietratremaancora]

I never wrote something from a piece of media before, I never wrote a fan fiction or anything like that, but here we are. It’s almost 5am, I’m not sleepy at all and I just rewatched GO 2, so… I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Sorry for any mistakes: English is not my native language.

As Jane Austen would write it

Aziraphale and Crowley have just foiled the end of the world - again. They’re side by side, immersed in a great silence. Astonished, neither of them has the courage to say anything: Crowley cannot comprehend that he has been saved by his angel, by the same angel who abandoned him; Aziraphale, who wanted to save the only being in the world he truly loves from the beginning, is terrified by the idea that that same being no longer loves him. Until, in the middle of nowhere and accompanied only by the sound of the wind, the song of a nightingale is heard.

A: Crowley…

C: I forgive you.

Aziraphale widens his eyes and turns suddenly; Crowley, motionless, is looking at him through his glasses.

A: I don't know what to say.

C: I believe that after defeating all the forces of Heaven and Hell, as well as Jesus the incarnation of the Almighty, you can do it.

A: Oh you have no idea - Aziraphale lowers his gaze, hesitates for a moment - I did it for you. In the beginning, a long - A LONG - time ago, I did what I did because I wanted to believe that angelic goodness prevailed even over being a demon, and you seemed the perfect example. But it wasn't like that, it never was. I know you think I realised it too late, but I didn't, it just took me too long to admit it to myself, and I could never admit it to you. I was so obnubilated by the thought that my job was to save you... when it was you who saved me, who stopped me that second before it was enough for me not to see the abyss you knew so well. I was so silly, Crowley. But I want you to know that I never thought, never wished - not even for a second - that you were any different.

C: I always tried to protect you angel. I didn't want you to see the world as them, but not as me either. I wanted you to be yourself: with your books, your cup of tea, your treats and your bloody magic tricks. And when you turned your back on me... - for a second the pain of that moment tightened Crowley's throat - I feared I had lost you forever. I was desperate.

A: So was I! You can't even imagine how desperate I was. The only thing that kept me alive was the thought that the next time I would see you again you would be free and, if I had been capable enough, happy.

C: You still don't get it.

A: What?

Crowley removes his glasses; Aziraphale winces slightly.

C: My god angel... after more than 6,000 years I still marvel at how stupid you can be sometimes. How can you not see that?

A: See what? Crowley, please.

Crowley shakes his head and smiles sarcastically.

C: I just wanted someone to look at the stars with.

Aziraphale stares at him. He turns fully towards him. Crowley seems to withdraw.

A: I love you.

Crowley is speechless, stunned. He is certainly not used to not knowing what to say, but this is not it. Every fibre in his body seems in turmoil. Aziraphale is still there, looking at him and smiling. He smiles as if the world had really ended this time, ended and begun again. He smiles as if a new Garden of Eden had magically materialised around them, but better, because in this case Eden has restaurants and bookshops.

C: I love you too angel - Crowley's voice is almost lifeless, so much so that it seems impossible to have uttered those words after him.

Aziraphale's face lights up, not with a blinding light, but with the kind of light that only the first stars that rise at nightfall give off. Truly ineffable.

Finally, Crowley, who had remained still up to that moment, also turns around, and is now facing Aziraphale. The latter approaches and gently places his right hand on his face.

A: This time properly, as Jane Austen would write it.

Crowley gently pulls him and kisses him as if he were the only important thing in the universe, and he is: more than alcohol, more than the stars, more than his (their) Bentley. Aziraphale still has one hand on his face while the other is clasped at his side, and this time he knows he’s feeling the greatest possible love, even for an angel. After all, this was the Almighty's plan all along.

The two break away and cannot contain themselves: they start laughing, the same way children laugh.

A: I cannot be sure, but now I think I understand why humans so often indulge in carnality.

Crowley bursts out laughing, he couldn't expect any less.

C: Well said. What time do you think it will be?

A: I don't know, but I think it's still morning, why?

C: How about an extremely alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz?

A: Mh, I think a table has miraculously opened up.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #ineffable reunion #ineffable kiss #azicrow #love #mailmiocuoredipietratremaancora #Spotify