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that-one-pretty-bitch · 1 year

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A/N: I realize I wrote part 1 a while ago, so you might need to check out my masterlist and read part one to understand some of the context behind this.

Warnings: Blood, gore, Satanism, witches, Agriche family ( thats a whole warning in itself ), implied mentions of torture, Seduction, Manipulation

A/n #2: This is a rewrite, my older one got deleted while I was in the middle of writing it. ( My computer restarted and tumblr didn’t save it ) So tis not as good as the original but I tried.

“We were simply discussing your designated ranking as an avatar, my lady,” Barbatos shot her a charming smile. Truth be told, even someone like him was terrified of what she was capable of.

Someone like her was more than capable of destroying the three realms. He had been skeptical of this temptress ever since she stepped foot into the house of lamination.

He would need to prepare the brothers just in case this beauty decided to step out of line, from which he learned she seemed to have a long history of doing.

Seduce and destroy, that is how she made a tyrant family, dominating the underworld for centuries cripple beneath her fingertips.

Y/n seduced everyone who had ever fallen in love with her into falling in love with her and that either made her a very good liar or a threat.

“Together, the avatars work for his majesty, Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, he could not see her future any longer, just what was she hiding?

“My sincerest apologies, however I do not think it is fitting for me to work for someone so naïve and childish,” She forced a deceptive smile

“Is there no shame in you, working for someone so meek? Having to call him your future king at that,” She smirked, she knew that Lord Diavolo was far from weak, however, riling up his personal servant was quite thrilling~

“Well, lady Agriche, My lord may be slightly dense but I assure you he is a fit ruler,” Barbatos seethed

“With all due respect, the Agriche dukedom is destroyed, therefore, I am no longer an Agriche,” Y/n spoke calmly, despite her perfect figure her patience was running thin

The others knew better than to talk, the environment felt heavy and tense, they could feel themselves shiver, yet, not one of them dared to move.

“Lady Agriche, it truly doesn’t matter whether the estate has been destroyed or not, what makes you an Agriche is your immoral and sinful heart. That desire to kill- to destroy, resides within you. You could neglect your ancestry all you want but remember Agriche blood runs in your veins,” Barbatos glared, he knew this woman was trying to rile him up

“I suppose I am sinful but your point was?” She looked at him, Barbatos was of no use to her, so why would an opinion as negligible as his possibly matter to her? The answer is quite simple, it didn’t. It didn’t bother her in the least, her perfect composure not faltering in the slightest.

“My work there is finished, I swore that I would remove every living trace of the Agriche from the human realm and I succeeded,” She continued, crimson eyes glinting with evil

“Despite all your efforts Lady Agriche, the Agriche have left their mark and even someone like you would fail to make the world forget the damage that has been caused” Barbatos started, he had enough of this prideful and arrogant woman.

“Oh but you underestimate me, my goal wasn’t to erase the past, it was simply to prevent the past from repeating itself,” Y/n explained calmly, Who did he think he was? Freely disagreeing with her?

Surely, the Agriche was simply an evil ancestry

A family that destroyed, thousands of other families

Going as far as to destroying their own family

Oh, tyranny lasts for the longest time

The human realm is littered with the remains of empires that believed they were eternal

Yet when it collapses

It is rebuilt, with someone that has the same hatred in their heart

If only Y/n knew,

The moral of the story is that nobody learns from historical mistakes

“Say, lady Y/n, you are indeed quite beautiful, it would be fair to say that I have never laid my eyes upon anyone nearly as lovely as you!” Asmodeus attempted to lift the tension, the tension decreased significantly yet one could still feel it lingering, like the scent of freshly baked cookies, however, this feeling was not nearly a pleasant.

The icy glare of Lord Diavolo’s personal servant and the false smile of the newfound avatar lost its tension.

“I am well aware of the fact that I am beautiful,” She spoke in a confident tone

It certainly took a lot of chutzpah to talk to Asmodeus the way she did, it was admirable in a sense.

“Well, I must leave now, it seems that I still have tasks that are yet to be completed” Y/n shot out of her seat and left swiftly, her arabian perfume intoxicating the air.

“She is quite full of herself, Isn’t she?” Satan muttered in disgust, he didn’t dislike the fact that she was confident but something about her felt like salt on an open wound.

“I for one, don’t mind in the least!” Asmodeus sighed dreamily

He saw hell in her eyes, but he loved it anyway, was hell always this bewitching?

Heavy, was the crown on her head, contaminated with past nightmares, regret, guilt, pain, suffering, and bottled feelings.

and yet she wore it as though it were a feather

there is strength in her heart

determination in her eyes

and the will to survive within her soul

Y/n Agriche, was bored and one should know better than to bore the embodiment of manipulation herself.

She felt the need to destroy each and every one of the brothers, one by one, playing them like a mere game

She would start with Lucifer and make her way to the dear avatar of wrath. She would destroy them and create her own perfect world, to hell with Diavolo’s authority, she would play him like her little puppet.

Devildom belongs to the one and only, Y/n

Or perhaps she should influence Lord Diavolo in making some ‘decisions’, after all, she didn’t just want to destroy them physically. She would taint their minds and turn everyone against them, she would fake a little empathy and once they trusted her with their life, she would flip the board.

Do you think you are safe because you love Y/n?

Oh good god, do not for a second think she will not stain her mouth with your blood

Once there is blood on your hands, there is simply no way to stop.

Off she went, to find Lucifer, it was high time she started working on her little plot to keep herself entertained.

Elegantly rising up from her bed, she dusted her dress in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles and unlocked her bedroom door.

Cherry red heels tapping against marble flooring came to an abrupt stop, as she pondered, it would be immensely rude of her to barge in, perhaps, she should brew him some coffee to compensate for his time.

Walking into the kitchen she scanned the items, did they have no servants? Inhaling deeply she took into consideration that she would have to brew this all by herself.

Opening a cabinet, she found a box with coffee grounds, she extended her arm and managed to get ahold of the box, she carefully removed the lid and poured it into a glass cup. She always liked her coffee extra bitter, therefore, she didn’t bother to add any sugar into the mixture as she carried two glass cups to Lucifer’s office, which if she recalled correctly was located two rooms across from where she was standing.

Knock.. Knock.. Knock...

Who could this possibly have been? Lucifer knew that none of his brothers bothered enough to knock at his door, they would simply make their way in and waste his time in their own ways. Each one differed greatly from the other yet it all felt the same.

Sighing he got up to open the door to his room, twisting the lock in his gloved hands.. Perhaps it was that new avatar.

Indeed it was, her scarlet eyes met with his Maroon ones. His eyes traveling from her face to her hands, she held two cups of coffee, from the essence he could tell it was extra bitter, just the way he liked it.

“Could I help you?” He asked scanning her figure, he had learned from Barbatos that he would need to be weary of this woman.

“Yes, I thought you deserved a break, so why don’t we have coffee together?” She inquired, her siren eyes scanning him from his face to his shoes

His weakness, the offer was tempting but he had to make sure that Lord Diavolo’s matters were resolved by tomorrow or he would face a chew out from his butler.

“I’m quite busy at the moment-” He started, closing his eyes and whipping his head away, her eyes were bewitching, he had to make sure he would not fall for her charm

Y/n ignored his remark and slid into his room examining her surroundings in wonder. There was no doubt that this man kept all the best things for himself, he had silk sheets, these are the sheets her torture room consisted of, for toys that couldn’t behave themselves properly. She would make them ingest an aphrodisiac and sadistically watch as they shifted uncomfortably and begged for her until they lost their voices and ability to walk.

Lucifer watched as the beautiful woman seated herself at his study table and motioned for him to sit next to her. He sighed, he was far too low on energy to argue his way out of this one. He tread towards the chair and took a seat next to her, attempting to ignore the fact that she sat in his seat and was skimming over the papers that he needed to deliver to Lord Diavolo by the next day.

She nodded in acknowledgement as she flipped through the papers. The work was awfully simple but a cluster of it. It seemed that Lord Diavolo had appointed Lucifer to do all his work for him. Poor Lucifer, he must be tired of the Prince’s shenanigans, perhaps she could use this to her advantage.

She looked up from the papers and saw that both glasses were untouched,

“What's wrong? Do you dislike bitter coffee?” She asked as Lucifer snapped out of his trance, had he been staring at her this entire time? He needed to get a hold of himself, he could not fall for her, he was supposedly against her as she was evil beyond reasoning.

Oh but Lucifer dear, being against evil doesn't make you any better, no matter what you do Y/n shall always be superior. You will fall for her, after all, her plans never fail.

“Ah, was this for me?” He muttered bringing a cup towards his lips

“Two glasses for two people, I assumed you were sharp-witted, It appears I was wrong,” She glanced from her side as she watched Lucifer’s face mold into frustration.

“Perhaps, it would be simpler if we split the work, after all I do not have much to get done,” She stated

“I am capable of doing this myself,” Lucifer muttered, snatching the papers out of her hands

“Page 47, second paragraph, you made a mistake in your calculations,” Y/n smiled, twirling a pen in her fingers as she watched Lucifer flip through the pages.

His face contorts into exasperation as he realizes he did indeed mess up, this meant he needed to change everything

“My offer still stands,” Y/n wanted to laugh at his pathetic expression, he could just get her help but his pride refused it.

“My my~ How rude of you to simply not answer! I saved you from humiliation and this is how you repay me?” She gasped, pressing a finger to her lip and staring at Lucifer in anticipation

“Alright, you win. Where do you want to start?” Lucifer murmured, unconsciously bringing a hand up to his hair and pulling on it, he was so frustrated!

“You are more than welcome to take a break while I work on this,” Y/n offered

“You seem quite exhausted,” She sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead and feeling his temperature

“I’m alrig-” Lucifer started

“Go. take. a. rest.” She looked at him annoyed

“Do not worry any longer, I will take care of the work,” She glared as Lucifer got up and walked towards his bed

Congratulations, Y/n. You survived the Agriche, now live with the trauma~

A/N: Reblog but do not repost!

Part 3? Or should I abandon the series?

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synergysilhouette · 3 months

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"Strange World" (2022) overhaul rewrite

I never expected to do a rewrite of this, despite my issues with it. But then I decided I should just do an overhaul of it. Be forewarned: I'm taking this in a VERY different direction--like, almost unrecognizeable; how do you feel about an Arthurian epic with aliens? As always, be kind--but if you have critiques/questions, I'd be happy to hear them!

Plot:

On a planet far away, there was once the mystical alien planet of Siyned. Twenty-five years ago, King Ursam of Lonava, a prosperous and mystical country on Siyned, disappeared without a trace, leaving his young son Taurus in charge of running a kingdom. For a time, all was prosperous, but now, a powerful sorceress named Niobe has come to battle for the throne, and threatens to engulf the kingdom in darkness and horrors unlike the world has ever seen. Together with his wife Iopeia, son Boralis and their band of allies, Taurus must navigate being a king as well as sorting out the secrets that come out with Niobe's arrival.

Important story/world details

As you may see, the storyline is inspired by the tale of King Arthur, inspired by the fact that Searcher Clade is from a land known as Avalonia, and my first thought was: "Man, a King Arthur-inspired story would've been so much better than what we got." This comes with certain important story/world details:

The cast is made up of aliens. Given the pulp magazine inspiration the original SW film takes from, I'd enjoy seeing a comicbook inspiration for the alien races here, as well as video game inspiration from the fantasy side of things. In the best case scenario, this would be a spiritual successor to "Atlantis." I'd enjoy seeing different races of aliens, though I personally do like the idea that Taurus looks human (though since his wife and son are POC in the OG story, making them appear inhuman might be a bad call if he still appears white). And excuse the use of AI art here; I just liked the video for it's use of 80s dark fantasy inspirations, which I'd also want to be the inspiration for the fantasy aspects of "Strange World."

2. The culture is more medieval/ancient--except for the technology (and maybe fashion). I like the idea that it takes inspiration from various world cultures similar to how "Atlantis" does.

3. The cast is obviously different.

King Taurus--A kind and intelligent king, albeit sensitive and sometimes overcome with his emotions due to unresolved feelings with his father (I thought that'd be a good thing to keep). He's a gifted mage, and I'm definitely getting Gale of Waterdeep vibes from him--albeit less problematic. He's also in his 30s, so slightly younger than Searcher Clade. Still, he's older than most Disney protagonists, which I think makes the film more accessible for an older crowd, and an established Disney romance between a husband and wife rather than two people about to get married or just getting to know each other carries nuances that you can't get with many "kid films."

Queen Iopeia--A scholar and trained warrior who managed to capture the king's heart, and they fell in love. While she doesn't have any magic per se, her physical abilities make her a threat to all who wish to harm her loved ones. She often serves as the emotional anchor when Taurus is frazzled, and on rare occasions, their roles are reversed.

Prince Boralis--The young man who dreams of adventure, a Hercules-type protagonist who has self-esteem issues given his family's legacy. Of course, his crush on Castelon, Niobe's lead soldier, weighs on his heart heavily, since they grew up together before he disappeared and decided to side with her, seemingly with no explanation a year ago. His conflicting feelings make it difficult for him to use his powers (either alien or magical) to full potential. Definitely think his style is more akin to Ekko's from "League of Legends."

Niobe--Vicious but sad, she is the powerful sorceress from the Lands Beyond, a realm of darkness that engulfed the lands west of Lonava. She is much more powerful than Taurus, but wants to destroy him emotionally before killing him, hoping to break him and make him give her the crown that is rightfully hers. She sees him as living the life she always wanted, and despises Taurus for "taking" it from him. She has an affinity for petrifying her enemies--and keeping their consciousness intact. It's later revealed that when Ursam discovered a prophecy that Niobe would bring about the kingdom's destruction, he left her in the Lands Beyond as a toddler. It's somewhat akin to how Cora abandoned Zelena in Once Upon a Time ("I have to leave you to give me MY best at life"). That said, given that many Disney fans want an unapologetic villain, I'd make her too bitter and angry to be swayed by Taurus' pleas, but at her defeat, it's brought to light that despite being a good king, Ursam was NOT a good person.

Serioph--A wise mage (our Merlin figure) who serves as a parental figure to Taurus and a mystical guide. He has the ability to change his form at will, and ocassionally takes on a female form following Taurus' mother's passing and seeing that he needed a mother figure as well as a father figure. However, despite his power, he is tied to the laws of neutrality: if he was to battle someone of great good or great evil, his magic would cease to exist--which includes his power of longevity, and he would cease to exist. He knows this, but uses his powers to harm Niobe and prevent her from killing Taurus, killing himself in the process.

Ienvy--Serioph's daughter, inheriting his magic by lineage, and thus not tied to the Laws of Neutrality like he is. Niobe is drawn to her and attempts to persuade her to join her side, but when Serioph is killed, Serioph curses Niobe to become undone, giving her a sense of insanity that makes it possible for Taurus and the group to defeat her. Despite her help, Ienvy feels guilt for what she's done after learning about Niobe's past, and imposes a self-exile upon herself after the battle is over.

Castelon--Boralis' crush and childhood best friend. He eventually left and joined Niobe due to being tricked into joining her service by failing to prove his selflessness (similar to the tale of Gawain and the Green Knight). As such, he has become warped, becoming a smug Namaari-type villain, so there's a lot of tension between him and Boralis. (Note: This goes without saying, but he'd get a major design overhaul. Some people say he looks like Frankie Grande, but he gives me Jay Manuel vibes from "America's Next Top Model" and I CAN'T STAND IT. I'd rather he looked akin to Lucio from "The Arcana.")

Different Design style FOR SURE

Part of me finds the looks to be too normal; the characters don't grab my attention because they look either too realistic or too cartoony. Even if they weren't aliens, I'd want new looks for their clothes, at the very least. And the non-human-looking aliens felt way too cartoony here, not really ethereal or interesting in the slightest. Honestly, THIS deserved to be a hybrid film, tbh; it'd help to sell the alien vibes, as well as the fantasy aspect. And in particular, if we're going for a more mature look.

Lemme know what you think! I may come back and tinker this a bit.

#disney #disney animation #strange world #league of legends #arcane #atla #avatar the last airbender #iroh #black panther #okoye

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goblinbugthing · 6 months

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ok so there’s stuff in my brain again. thoughts

basically i have this group of 7 ocs that i originally made during my dra phase and haven’t touched in years, but ive been thinking about them a lot recently and ive started to feel like revamping their characters, giving them a good old redesign, and rewriting them and their story.

ofc im gonna remake them so they’re less. yknow, really terribly written. but when i say i wanna rewrite their story i mean i wanna turn it into a fic, instead of just remaking them and leaving them alone and rotting again.

im gonna ramble more under the cut, but that’s the basics of what’s happening in my brain rn

(cw for mentions of cults, human experimentation, death/murder, and implied abuse)

anyway, these guys are pretty old characters — i made the first two of them when i was like 11 — and so of course, they are. Not Good. and its gonna take a solid amount of work to actually fix them up and make them decent. but i really want to.

lemme introduce their dumbasses real quick:

first of all, we’ve got jay! real creative name, i know (/sarcasm). they’re 16, agender, intersex, and bisexual, using they/them pronouns, and they’re a human experiment. they were abandoned when they were 6 by their (super religious) parents who thought they were a fucking demon, and they got picked up by some cultists that claimed to work for an orphanage. spoiler alert, they did not work for an orphanage, and those fuckers grabbed jay, dragged them to a facility, and experimented on them for the next 10 years. those experiments turned them into a shapeshifter. dont ask me how because i dont know. they’ve also got several very badly written mental illnesses, as is the usual with creepypasta ocs. oh yeah they were a creepypasta oc btw

then there’s jay’s gf, willow. she’s 17, cis, pan, and ace, using she/her pronouns, and she’s just a normal human girl with no special abilities. but she does have a shitty dad and a dead mother. she and jay kill her dad after a bunch of Wild Shit. violent revenge, yay!

aaand cora. she’s 17, cis, bisexual (i think, i cant find her info anywhere), and uses she/her. she’s jay’s identical twin, and also a normal human, but she has psychokinesis. like she can move stuff with her brain. cool

next on the list is sigasi. she’s 21, cis, and aroace, using she/her pronouns, and she’s also a human experiment. jay sees her as an older sister, but they’re not actually related. she’s not a shapeshifter like them, but she’s got weird void claw hands and some fucked up wings that don’t work.

and then oh dear god, delta sun. he’s 26 (i think), cis, neptunic, demiromantic, and asexual, using he/him pronouns, and he’s in the same boat as jay and sigasi. instead of being kidnapped, though, he was given to the cultists by his mother (who thought he was a demon) and was raised in the experimentation facility. also, he’s half angel. his dad is an angel while his mom is a (super religious) human.

and SPEAKING of delta’s mom, it’s hope! she’s technically in her 50s but she died at 27, cishet and uses she/her pronouns. she’s essentially just hara before hara, but she is SO MUCH MORE INSANE. LITERALLY. she’s super religious and superstitious, she’s scared of everything, she’s been gaslit and indoctrinated into the same cult that the human experimenting fuckwads are in, she’s dead, she’s fucking crazy, she’s so badly written. i love her.

and as for delta’s dad, that would be ea. he’s 427, completely genderless, and doesn’t label his sexuality. uses all pronouns because fuck it, and they’re a somewhat biblically accurate angel. i dont have much info on him unfortunately, and what i do have written down is unimportant.

as you can see, three of them are human experiments. this is because i had a phase where i was obsessed with human experimentation. i thought it was so fucking cool.

anyway! the lore behind these bastards is super complex and ive been hyperfixating on that for a few days. i dragged some old shit out of the abyss to actually remember stuff about them, and uh. god theyre so badly written it hurts me.

fuck it im making a lore doc

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warlocks-and-phoenixes · 5 months

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I just saw Beauty and the Beast live for the first time and…..it made me…realize….something….

My rewrite!Zianna and Garte and their history is LITERALLY Beauty and the Beast: The Bad Ending??!!??

Look okay listen

Gaston at the beginning was just giving me general arrogant young prince Garte vibes. Just vibes. And Belle, if she were a noblegirl, totally had young-Zianna vibes. Yeah just vibes, but hear me out.

So my OC Kiran is in my rewrite and she’s the older half-sister of the Ro’meaves. Before that became a thing she’d always been a werewolf and I wanted both so Zianna was once in a secretive genuine relationship with this werewolf sailor named Darren. He dies at sea shortly after Zianna discovers she’s pregnant. Girl was really going through it before she even finds out Darren’s dead cuz she’s on the verge of getting entirely disowned by her family for the affair—Irene help her when they find out she’s got a probably-werewolf kid from him. The only reason that doesn’t happen after the baby (Kiran) is born is because she catches the eye of Prince Garte. Her family and his arrange a union, they’re married when Kiran’s 2 years old, and the rest is history.

So just. Think of it. Zianna, a strange young woman with high dreams and odd tastes, falls in love with a strange man (poor werewolf merchant-ship-crewman) that her entire society (rich ruling class humans) would be disgusted by. Meanwhile, her socially-acceptable suitor is of extremely high standing, is an arrogant asshole, and can’t take a damn hint. But then Zianna’s true love tragically dies, her only choice short of a veritable death sentence for both her and her child, is to marry Garte. And as he grows further and further away from her and their children into the life of lordship, Zianna Ro’meave is left to wander the expanse of their library, dreaming to herself about what could’ve been and telling those stories to all four of her children at night, wishing that they wouldn’t have to grow into the same place and people that Zianna and Garte did. Wondering if maybe, if she tells them enough of the stories, they could one day live out the dreams of heart-stopping adventure and sword-clashing heroism that she realized she could never live, the moment she was given the news.

……..Yeah so how was y’all’s night

#minecraft diaries #zianna ro’meave #garte ro’meave #beauty and the beast #mcd #Kiran Darmond #diaries: rewritten

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virgobabe91 · 1 year

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Firstly I feel like I must write a quick blurb.

I first wrote this storyline about 3 years ago. I did it just for fun under a side account I constantly changed the name to, I must’ve changed my account name like 6 times. I think my last account name was like “lilac-babe”? If you remember some of the storyline and me then welcome back!

When I deleted this I was at a low point in life, I found out my ex-bf cheated on me, my sister lost custody of her kids and I took them in, covid happened and the world shut down, my job I had for 8 years was literally giving me panic attacks to the point I had to go on mental health leave for 3 months. I had a sugar daddy (who in the beginning was nice but in the end gave me trauma of older men with silver hair) but a lot has changed since I deleted as well. I found the love of my life who treats me so well, got engaged, had a baby who is the light of my life! Now I’m a stay at home mom who does tattooing on the side.

This story originally had 10 chapters, but I deleted the last chapter keeping the ending open. I plan to write roughly the same amount this time around as well. I’m going to spice up the story a bit, and I will be making changes here and there it might not even end the way I originally had ended it.

I also

I also am thinking of rewriting some of my other old stories, vampireharry!, witchharry!, angstharry!. Etc.

(I love making people sad and suffer with cliffhangers)

Anyways here’s a quick idea of what’s to expect in the coming chapters. The first chapter will be posted in about a week. 😘

Main characters

Harry, stopped aging at 30.

Brown hair, green eyes, 6ft4.

Very quiet and moody.

Lives in a tall A frame cabin he made out of the surrounding woods. Had a mate but she was killed by human hunters.

Jealous type, angers easily, Great chef though.

Henry, stopped aging at 37.

Brown hair, Blue eyes,6 ft8.

Quiet but kind. Lives closer to the town in an antique Yurt. Owns a TV and has quite the DVD collection.

Spiteful type, enjoys a old fashion fist fight. Usually at surrounding pubs, Is mean for sport.

Niall, stopped aging at 30.

Light brown hair, blue eyes, 6 ft2.

Peaceful. Lives in a cabin near the garden. Loves nature and main groundskeeper of the solar panels and garden.

Occasionally enjoys a drink down at the pub but the first to leave when Henry shows up.

Just happy to be here type, but can get vengeful, also angers easily.

Y/N, 27.

Loves to read. Loves her family cat named craig. Pretty much an orphan since her dad passed away last year an her mom left when she was a toddler. College dropout. works at a coffee shop and does onlyfans as a side hustle.

Naive type.

Madge, roughly stopped aging at 50. Has been around almost the same time the village was founded.

Grey hair, blue eyes. 5ft5.

The matriarch of the clan. Niall’s Aunt.

Her partner passed away 2 years ago, was raised in town has never left the mountainside. Likes to read and drink her homegrown specialty teas.

Cooks her big suppers every Sunday night and makes enough for everyone to take home leftovers.

Traditional type.

Village Info.

Knightstowne

130 people not including the pups.

Has been around for almost 600 years.

Most of the homes and surrounding buildings are homemade out of logs, The newer homes have concrete.

Large bonfire with benches in the middle of town, used as a city hall for discussions.

Solar farm is a 10 minute walk south of the bonfire.

Food garden is a 10 minute walk north of the bonfire.

The animal farm is north of the entrance of town.

The houses are scattered around the bonfire, Madge’s house is closest to the entrance and her old horse stables are used as a farmers market within the community.

🔥🔥🔥 W A R N I N G 🔥🔥🔥

This is fantasy.

There will be talks of smut, breeding, knotting, spanking, hair pulling, blood, aggression, anal, jealousy, bullying, spitting, face slapping, degradation, revenge, consensual non consent, and more.

we start out with a semi, graphic assault.

This is not for the faint of heart, do not continue to read if this isn’t for you.

🔥I will not be tagging people for next chapters.

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haldenlith · 8 months

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So, I'm rewriting the time-skip fic I was working on with Astarion and scrapping a lot of what I had, approaching it with an entirely different plot instead (same setting, though). However, I wrote a scene that I'm still fond of, and I'd hate to see consigned to the void, so I'm sharing it with you guys.

I'll give some background context: The premise was that, flung ahead a few centuries after the events of the game, the story is that a now much older spawn-Astarion is still alive and well in turn of the century, Edwardian-themed and Industrial Revolution-hitting Baldur's Gate. Astarion's made something of a name for himself as a faux-mercantile-lord, being the purveyor of a fairly successful perfume enterprise which is, publicly, the source of his wealth. As far as the public is aware, he's just some eccentric high elf dandy, with an ornery human assistant named Charles usually tagging along. None of that is the whole story, of course, (he is a Charlatan, after all) but it's how he gets by. At this point, his beloved (my Tav, Tannivh) that he fought alongside has passed on, leaving him to manage on his own. Which is... fine... until he encounters his reincarnated self and sees the man carted off to jail. Needless to say, Astarion's instantly invested and interested in getting said reincarnated man out of jail and into his hands. Cue the scene I thought was amusing.

As the guard led the two men through the jail, there were a few catcalls from the rowdier inmates. Not to Charles, of course, but to Astarion. His eccentric fashion tastes seemed to always catch people’s eye, though not always in a positive light. A few glares cut through the bars from others who were less vocal. Either way, Astarion merely lightly sneered in their direction with utter disdain. He wasn’t there to be afternoon entertainment.

The guard stopped near the end of the hall, leading them to a small cell where the wood elf from earlier sat, knees bent, arms resting on them. His barely shoulder-length black hair mostly obscured his features, and the firelight glinted off the unique manacles on his wrists. It seems they didn’t trust him to not sling spells while in the cell. The guard lifted his clipboard and flipped through the pages. “Ah, yeah, here he is. Yeah, we just booked him. Said he was a nasty bugger to try and drag in. Let’s see… Felaadan — which is about as much as we got out of him for a name. Age, unknown. His charges are ten counts of vandalism, four counts of assaulting a Flaming Fist officer, one count of public disturbance, eleven counts of unlawful use of magic, and two counts of trespassing. I’m sure there will be other minor infractions levied against him when the magistrate sees him.”

Astarion plopped a hand on his hip, cocking his head to the side, peering into the cell. “Well, aren’t you a naughty boy.” The man in the cell glanced up at being addressed, but initially paid them no mind.

Initially.

There was a pause, and he did a double-take, piercing emerald eyes snapping onto Astarion’s face and meeting his gaze. A flicker of recognition passed over Felaadan’s features.

That was all Astarion needed.

“How much is his bail posted for?”

Charles blinked at the question, and leaned in to whisper through gritted teeth, “You cannot be serious! If you want hired muscle, we know where to find it for far cheaper!”

As Astarion gently pushed Charles away, the guard sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t know, m’lord. He’s caused a lot of trouble over the past month. I doubt he even has a bail set for him, thanks to him trapping — accidentally or not — Lady Caldwell in her manor a week ago.” Astarion arched up an eyebrow, a bemused smile appearing on his face. Someone terrorized that old bint? Good.

“I think we could… work something out. You’re all so busy with… the rest of the rabble. Besides, imagine how the press would react if you flayed the skin off some poor boy for making plants spring up hither thither.”

“Well, lashes weren’t really — ”

“And wasn’t the big push going to be that The Gate was heading in a ‘new direction’ with our laws? To become a beacon of a new age? Surely denying citizens bail, exacting archaic punishments, and preventing proper rehabilitation would run counter to that ideal.”

“I mean, I guess you’re — ”

“I feel like it is my duty as a noble lord — no — a noble citizen to aid in bettering our society. I am more than willing to do my part to help clean up the streets and rehabilitate this man! Put him to doing good, honest work! So! I ask you again, my good man, what is his bail set at?”

Charles and the guardsman both stared, a bit stunned (though for differing reasons), at Astarion.

“I, um, I’ll go talk with the Warden and see what I can do,” the guardsman replied, jerking a thumb behind him as he stepped away. Shortly after he left, Astarion jerked his chin in the man’s direction, his gaze on Charles.

“Make sure someone gets paid.” With a begrudging sigh, Charles followed after the guardsman. Once they were essentially alone, Fel’s voice finally spoke up from his side of the bars.

“... You have a lot of faith that I’ll come along quietly with you after I’m out.” A wolfish grin spread across Astarion’s face as he returned his attention to Felaadan.

“Darling, if you’re even a third of the man you were in your past life, you’ll not only do that, you’ll feel obliged to return the favor owed.”

And scene.

I just thought it was an interesting little scene that I had written, and that I'd share that incomplete snippet before I shove it into a folder and scrapped.

#haldie writes #Astarion #fanfic snippet #I just love the mental image of Astarion monologuing while doing his Deception/Persuasion gig on the guard #like of course this diva would put on a show while lying through his teeth

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fanficwriter284 · 2 years

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Hi friend!!! I absolutely love how you made it work with canon!! But when you mentioned how you'd rewrite her from seed I got super curious!! What did you have in mind?

HI!!! SUPER GLAD YOU ASKED!!!!

Ok here goes

When Tiffany realized she was now in control, she finally had a human body. It was perfect. She got her to wish. She had her kids and a career as a star. But one thought lingered inside her. Her husband. As much as she hated to admit it, she still had feelings for him. However, in the name of her new life, she suppressed her affections. As the twins got older, they began asking questions about their dad. What happened to him? What was he like? How'd you two meets? Innocent questions. She told them funny stories about the two of them leaving out the gory details. She didn't want to ruin the image of him, so she told them that he'd died in an accident. Sparing them of the more sinister attributes he had. She told them that he had the chance to meet them before he passed, and said he truly loved the two of them.

As time passed Tiffany decided to focus on her kids occasionally doing a film every now and then. Her twins keep her sane and functioning. Once and a while she'll think of her past with Chucky. A sliver of guilt was still inside her. She knew she hurt him. She knew that. But what's done was done. She couldn't change it. It hurts her to look in the mirror every now and then, seeing a fading reflection of herself. She took a hairbrush and shatter the mirror and would just gaze at the shattered image of herself. She'd always ignore it and go to bed sleeping the emotions off.

Thoughts of resurrecting him always crossed her mind, but the sheer thought of him ruining the life she had. Prevented her. Eventually, she began to lose her feelings toward her ex. But Glenda, and their laugh, would send memories of the two. Pulling at her heartstrings. He'd creep into her dreams and his heartbroken voice, and the realization that she chose fame over him, tormented her. He really did love her. Now, here she was living someone else's life. With their kids.

That's all for now!!!

#Lol this was so much fun!!#tiffany valentine

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julianobungus · 1 year

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During school we're doing redesigns. As a part of redesigning Luz I got a chance to rewrite the owl house. Sort like a reboot aimed at an older audience. Wanted to know your opinion on my rewrite. (Don't feel pressured to write a long reply a simple 'iz good I like it' is good enough for me.

Interview;

Name; Luca (luz)

Age; 14

Species: Human (half-demon not known to Luca at the time.)

Physical appearance; Luca is a healthy weight not overly fit or chubby. She has long purplish-brown hair with round expressive eyes.

personality;(pre-betrayal) Open-minded but stubborn in her views she is high energy and lucky-go-happy. Trusting she believes that everyone has the potential to be good and with enough determination, she can help people see that.

(post-betrayal) Still open-minded and stubborn, she is a lot less high-energy, being slightly more pessimistic. She no longer thinks that with enough determination she can change people into being good but gains the understanding that it’s up to that person to choose for themselves.

Abilities;

Magic; is easily split into pure magic and anti-magic.

Pure magic is symbolized by the colour jet black. It is every possible spell combined into one. Seen originally as the most powerful liquid it is unstable and extremely toxic, poisoning anything it touches. A small amount of these liquids are made in the magic bail sac of witches in a chamber designed to hold the unstable liquid.

Anti-magic is symbolized by the colour pure white. It is the absince of any magic at all. Seein originally as the weakest liquid it was discovered to have the ability to suck the magic out of anything it touches. Just as toxic as pure magic a small amount of it can also be found in a witch's magic bail sac. Kept in its own chamber designed to keep it safely inside them.

Hue; shorthand for ‘hue magic’ is the description of the magic witches use. Symbolized by a rainbow it is a combination of pure and anti-magic. The amount of pure magic and anti-magic combined in the largest chamber of the magic bail sac determins the spell the witch will cast.

D.M.A; abbreviated from ‘Demonic Magic and Abilities’ it’s the type of magic demons use. Lacking magic bail sac’s demons are seen as being closer to the land's natural magic. Although Witches would argue it’s unfair to compare them to demons as it’s seen as comparing humans to animals.

Witches; draw circles in the air to cast magic based on what they're thinking about. I.E thinking about fire and warmth will cause the circle to summon fire, thinking about cold harsh ice will summon ice. Being able to cast countless spells the only limit is their ability to concentrate and their magic bail sac.

Humans; can see the way magic mixes together, being able to see the subtle lines that are drawn by witches when they cast magic. Although it’s so subtle that they would have to take a photo of the circle as the spell is cast to be able to have enough time to see the lines properly.

Names;

Luca (Luz) Prophecy (Orical) (Main) (kidnapped)

Willow (Willow) Florica (Plant) (Main) (kidnapped)

Mike (Gus) Illusions (illusions) (Main) (kidnapped)

Aurora (Amity) Abomonations (Abominations) (Main) (sold for land)

Starlight (Emira) Health (Healing) (Secondary) (followed Aurora)

Solar (Edric) Funa (Beastkeeping) (Secondary) (followed Starlight and Aurora)

Rex (Mattholomule) Building (Construction) (Secondary) (sold for food)

Skyla (Skara) Musician (Bard) (Secondary) (sold for money)

Hunter (Hunter) alchemist (potions) (Main) (raised there)

John (Philip) Leader (Emporor) (Main villain)

Jack (Caleb) dead (dead) (Hunter’s dad)

Jade (Evelyn) dead (dead) (Hunter’s mum)

Side note: being half demon Luca can read minds but it's more similar to WOF where she can hear your thoughts as you think them not actually dig around your mind.

Story;

Luca is in the human realm classroom where she is a daydreamer. Starting at school with her looking out the window as her test is turned back as C- with a small note about paying more attention to the brief. When the bell rings she gets up and is quick to run out of school to grab her things from her locker. The door is covered in notes with a few reminders and some fantasy books on the shelf as she grabs her stuff and heads home. As she’s running along she notices a sound coming from the woods. Knowing she hears things sometimes she tries to shake them off reminding herself what her mum said. Yet unable to help her own curiosity she decides her parents won't be home until later and decides to go check it out. However, as she makes it through the first line of trees the voice vanishes making her wonder if she was mishearing things again. Turning around she is suddenly jumped as the scene jumps to black.

When Luca wakes up she is on top of a bed in a plain room. On the opposite side is a desk with her bag on it and to her side is a large window with the curtains drawn. Sitting up she holds her head as she tries to get up, feeling wobbly on her feet. Heading to the window she opens the curtains to be met with blue skies and clouds, however, before she can relax she looks downwards at a beach where she sees a large monster walking. Giving a small ‘woah’ she heads to the door opening it only to be greeted by a guard in uniform who informs her she is to report to the main hall. Trying to ask questions she is either ignored or cut off and told to be quiet. Making it to the hall she notices she isn’t alone as there are eight other characters sitting at a table covered in foods she has never seen before. Sitting down she is soon greeted by a small friendly witch called Willow and a slightly taller just as friendly witch called Mike.

As they finish settling down with Luca trying a few different things someone walks onto the small stage introducing himself as John. He talks about how they are brought there due to being part of a prophecy and how the fate of their homes lies on their shoulders. He then adds that ‘most of their homes’ looking at Luca, however, before she can say anything Mike speaks up about how he was taken without permission with a few nods as Aurora, Skara and Rex avoid looking at them.

(That’s as far as I got before class finished)

Ooooh! I really like these ideas! Honestly, the magic system you've made here is more interesting than in the show, lmao. Very creative pal.

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nanamikentoseyebags · 1 year

Text

I went to war with myself, for you

and when your worst nightmare is about to come true, what are the chances that you can stop it?

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

content: angst, angst, angst, hurt with comfort, mentions of death, mentions of weapons, blood, kisses, a bit of fluff.

a/n: i've been thinking about this for a long time and it's finally here. the main character here rewrites kento's destiny, because that's what he deserves. literally every word of it is filled with my personal pain that gege caused me by killing him. it's also my very first fanfic that i'm posting on my main, if you wanna check out the others, you can do it here - @satoruschapstic. i'm deeply sorry for all the inaccuracies and mistakes! hope you enjoy it <3

Everything comes with a price. It's a simple truth that you learned when you were just a child, born as a sorcerer into an ordinary family, burdened by mundane concerns. You were different from all the children of your age, able to understand and see much more than they ever could. Hoping to find a place where you could put all your energy into and learn how to master your body you tried all kinds of martial arts. You picked things up quickly. You were fast, agile, resilient and athletic. But no one understood back then that behind this strength and speed was something big, something special, terrifying even. Your reward and your curse.

Your power came out of the blue, even though all the time you felt that there was something in your veins besides human blood, something that would change you and your life over time. And so it did.

It was an ordinary day at school, when your little figure was hurrying to the exit, hoping not to be late for your training, and then you heard someone crying quietly. You turned to the direction of the sound and found a little girl squatting with her eyes squeezed shut and her backpack pressed to her chest. There were boys standing in a semicircle around her, looking way older. One of them was holding her tightly by the collar of her school uniform jacket. Without a moment's hesitation, you headed toward the group of hooligans, and as you got closer, you called out to her bully, asking him to leave the girl alone. He only grinned, spitting a few insults in your direction and returning his gaze to the victim. But you weren't planning on giving up. You never did. As you made your way through the crowd of boys, who squealed approvingly as the bully's hand soared up to hit the utterly terrified girl, you stood flat between them, shielding her. Until that moment, you didn't realize how small you were compared to all the boys, who were now huddled in an even tighter circle and staring predatorily at the newly emerged intercessor. Before the bully could utter a word, you touched his forehead with two fingers, guided by some unknown force.

You remember what happened next very vaguely. Your head felt like it was clenched in a vice, your vision went blurry; you knelt down so you wouldn't fall over, and on the ground you saw the boy's body. Then the scene changed, and you were still there. The same school, the same place, but there was no little girl, no crowd of rowdy bullies. Only the boy, but he was no longer lying there, he was standing in front of you, just as confused as you were. You did not remember the details of the conversation that happened between you afterwards, the only thing you remember is the hands of your mother, who pulled you closer to her chest when she saw you finally coming to your senses. Later, you told her everything you could, while fighting the unbearable headache and the fatigue that had finally gotten the better of you. You fell asleep almost as soon as your story was over, and that night you had strange dreams in which reality intertwined with imaginary worlds, but somehow everything seemed more than real.

Your story as a sorcerer began when your parents brought you to Tokyo and took you to Tokyo Jujutsu High. The school building was well hidden on Tokyo's outskirts, far and high in the mountains. They said it was a place where they would help you figure out your strengths and explain everything that was happening to you. It was there that they told you what your special technique was, the very thing that flowed in your veins and yearned to break out into the light. At first you were over the moon, finally having all your questions answered. But then came the moment when you had to learn the price of such a gift. The first blow was the separation from your parents. With tears in their eyes, feeling that they were leaving their child at the mercy of fate, they stepped outside the gates of the tech and smiled at you bitterly for the last time. You were crestfallen and in an attempt to get over your sorrow you plunged headlong into the exploration of your abilities.

The college director was by your side helping you to grasp the main things every sorcerer should have known. He laid out all your thoughts, but also planted a seed of doubt and fear that lurked somewhere in the depths of your soul. He explained that your power was one of the rarest, and involved the ability to put an enemy into a dream, yet control their subconscious. You were kind of a dream traveler, able to enter anyone’s dream and turn it into a nightmare, because everything you did to them in a dream happened in real time. You were an invaluable asset to their college, an indispensable player, an important figure. But things weren't quite as rosy as you first imagined. You were full of hope that on the battlefields you could finally be of any help and reach your potential. Yes, the amount of cursed energy in you was incredible, but it dropped to almost zero when you used your ability straight away. You had to recover for about a month or so to be useful again, to be of any value whatsoever. You still went on missions, but simple physics was often just not enough. And for the second time you realized how unfair everything could be. There were times when you weren’t able to save your loved ones, even if you seemed to have tremendous power in your hands. And you felt like you weren't enough: pathetic and useless pawn in this big game.

But despite all the twists and turns in life, all the difficulties that fate threw at you, you tried to stay afloat. You learned further, you perfected your techniques. You mastered how to control your energy, and how to use cursed objects. You became a 1st grade sorcerer. But you never stopped feeling useless, superfluous, no matter how often those around you said they were jealous of your ability. Your superiors told you to be careful not to use your power until the big day. But it felt like it’d never come.

You went with the flow of life, accepting the conditions of the higher–ups and battling your inner demons that threatened to overpower you. You found solace in other sorcerers. You found friends – people who shared your views, people who kept you from sinking into your own mire of thoughts. But there was one person who seemed to understand you better than himself. The man with whom you always went on missions without fear of being killed, or worse, humiliated. Kento Nanami always treated you with understanding. He never put any pressure on you, trusting your abilities to know what to do and how to do it. He left you free to act, coming to your aid only when he saw that you really needed it. People said that with your potential and your abilities, you could have easily surpassed him. You could have been stronger. Only if you weren't trapped by your own stupid technique. So it was always Kento who was saving you. You didn't know why, but he was always faster, more nimble, sturdier. He was nowhere and everywhere. He moved with mad speed, preventing the curse from even attempting anything, when his knife was already dissecting its flesh, dividing it into even pieces.

You were grateful. Every time he picked you up from the ground, covered in scratches and bruises, and told you that it wasn't your fault, and the curse was too obstinate, you were grateful. You smiled weakly at him, noticing the worry that clouded his eyes as he carefully treated the wound on your shoulder. He never voiced his concerns and never challenged you to talk, respecting your personal boundaries. And he never said how sorry he was, knowing that pity was the last thing you needed at this point. You cherished that, and you never opened up. Never to anyone. No matter how much time you spent together or what you went through.

But you snapped once. The two of you were fighting a special grade curse in Kyoto that had already managed to hurt a large number of people. You moved in a perfect unison, inflicting critical injuries on your enemy. And you were finally able to feel that you could compete, that you could be important and make a difference. Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kento who was pinned to the ground by one of the curse’s tentacles, immobilized, but his face showed no emotion; on the contrary, he seemed even more confident in his strength. You calculated where it would be best to strike to free him, as all of a sudden, the curse, taking advantage of the one–second pause, lifted you into the air and hurled you into the building behind you. Your frail figure smashed through hundreds of walls before landing on the concrete floor. You could not move; blood oozing from your mouth. The katana you often took with you was now lying out of reach. In an instant, the curse was already over you, opening a wide maw with hundreds of thousands of teeth to end your life here and now. Despair and hopelessness swept over you, tears were coursing treacherously down your cheeks, blood was pooling in your veins. You weren't afraid to die. You were disgusted that you had failed your partner. You lost again.

You closed your eyes, swallowing convulsively and exhaling a quiet "fuck", ready to feel the sharp fangs piercing through your body. But all you felt were streams of blood, now covering most of your clothes and dripping onto the floor, mixing with your own blood. You opened your eyes and saw Kento in front of you, wiping the remains of the curse off his knife and kneeling down to you. You didn't hear a word he said, leaning over you and staring fearfully into your eyes. You managed to find the strength to wrap your bloody arm around his neck to pull him closer. You couldn't hold on any longer; you cried bitterly, clutching his shirt so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You talked about all your fears between your sobs, you poured out your heart to him, and you apologized a hundred times for not being able to help him. Your hand never loosened its grip on the fabric of his shirt, not even for a second. Kento was nodding knowingly, hоlding you gently in fear of hurting you, and quietly whispered words of encouragement against the top of your head. You spent about an hour like that, opening each other's wounded and blood–covered souls, finding meaning anew in each other's arms. From then on, you never parted again. You knew each other's darkest secrets. You were each other's sanctuary. And you didn't need anyone else.

You began to get used to life with Kento, and he made it easier for you just by his presence. You hadn't felt such ease and security in a long time. You were still going on missions together, but their number had noticeably lessened lately, and both of you were running towards a normal, unencumbered life with open arms, ready as ever to enjoy the simple things that you had failed to notice before. But darkness was already waiting for you around the corner, stretching out its bony arms and ready to pull you down with it.

You began to have strange dreams, not the kind you've been used to since childhood. Different. More frightening. More disturbing. Making you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. You didn't pay much attention to them at first, but when they began to come true, you grew anxious. At first, they were harmless dreams, in which you saw the exact places where the curses would operate. Then you began to dream about people you knew. They were getting wounded during a fight. Some of them were dying; some of them could find the way to escape. You told Kento about everything, and then you went to Gojo, who at first brushed it off, but when he realized your dreams were kind of bad omens for the jujutsu world, he made you promise that you would tell him everything you saw and that he would make sure to deal with the aftermath of your dreams.

Several times you tried to go to the places you saw in your dreams, explaining that if was you who saw them, it meant it was your cross and you had to bear alone. But neither Satoru nor Kento would let you go, knowing how tough your recoveries usually went. So you returned to this vicious circle from which there was no way out. You were plagued by helplessness, worried about others being sent on your missions, and slept very little for fear of another nightmare. But they didn't leave you for a second. You were the first to see a pink–haired boy eating an indefinable finger in your dream, the transformation that happened to him made you jump up in bed screaming. No one knew anything at the time about the boy or the fingers. Only Gojo hummed meaningfully and once again asked you not to worry. After a while, you met Itadori in person, the boy who had become the vessel of the King of Curses. Another failure in your piggy bank.

Your nightmares grew more monstrous, more vivid, more real with each passing day. You could only find a modicum of tranquility in the presence of Kento. Who gently stroked your hair as you fell asleep curled at his side. He watched intently for every change in the rhythm of your heart, your breathing, your facial expression, looking for signs that you were in the middle of another nightmare once again. But that almost never happened when he shared the bed with you. He was your magic sleeping pill. A little happy pill that allowed you to forget yourself for a moment.

That's why you were terrified to close your eyes today, knowing that Kento wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. You struggled to occupy yourself with something, to distract, to hide from the inevitable. But in the end you drifted off into a dream that once again divided your life into before and after. You saw many familiar faces, an empty subway station, friends, enemies, all mixed into an incomprehensible, fiercely screaming mass. You heard metal clanking, human shrieks, you saw blood and limbs. You saw someone's twisted grimace, someone's silhouette fading into the distance, their face impossible to discern behind a cascade of raven–wing hair. It looked familiar. Frighteningly familiar. Then you caught sight of Kento, the left side of his face covered in blood, his eye missing. He was standing in front of an odd–looking man. He had a single cycloptic eye, pale gray skin but the top of his head faded into a brown color where the volcanic opening was, he looked like the one Gojo mentioned in his report. And then you saw fire. The fire that engulfed Kento from his head to his toes. The fire that was coming from the curse. You tried to scream, but you couldn't. No sound came out of your mouth. The scene changed rapidly, now you could hear Itadori's voice calling out Kento's name, but everything was shrouded in darkness. Then you saw another one, he had stitches all across his body. The same curse that had already wounded Kento not so long ago. You saw his hand flying into the air. Things seemed to freeze. As if in slow motion, you saw your loved one's body shattered into splinters. Your deafening scream echoed through the empty apartment that was Nanami's. You jumped up on the bed, covering your mouth with shaking hands, holding back your sobs and trembling all over. You buried your face in your hands, hoping to hide from what had just frightened you to death. Unable even to sit up straight, you collapsed back onto the bed, curled up and shuddering with sobs. You howled so loudly that you failed to hear the sound of footsteps approaching you, but only felt the warmth of familiar hands gently pulling you to a wide chest.

“What happened, y/n? What? One of your nightmares? I'm here, it's okay, shhh, it's over, it was just a dream,” his concerned voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

Kento now held you tightly to him, placing you gently in his lap. His hand was carefully stroking your head, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Look at me, my love. Whatever it was, we can handle it together. I promise, just tell me what's wrong,” he said softly, almost in a whisper, but just enough for you to hear the notes of tenderness and care in his voice.

You lifted your head hesitantly, exposing your tearful eyes to him. Trickles of tears still oozed from your eyes as you frantically tried to memorize every wrinkle on his face, as if he was going to disappear in the next moment. Kento left a light kiss on your forehead, deftly wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“It's all right, you can tell me everything.”

He repeated softly, albeit persistently, letting you know that you don't have to keep it all to yourself and cope with it alone. He was there to ease your pain. Little did he know at the time that all your pain and all your happiness lay in him alone. Your heart was bursting out of your chest, hoping to unite with his heart and beat in tune, knowing that it would never again be torn apart by separation. You don't know how you found the strength to answer him and sound convincing.

“It's all right, really, just one of those nightmares I used to have when I was a kid. I don't know why it scared me so much now, probably because you weren't around,” you said quietly, not trusting your voice.

A pack of lies. That’s what it was. You weren't sure who exactly it was good for: you, because you couldn't make yourself to repeat the awful details of your nightmare, looking into his honeyed eyes, or him, because otherwise he had to know what fate had in store for him. He was the last man on earth who could ever deserve such a thing. You hated yourself for the false words that poured from your mouth, but you couldn't have it any other way. The truth always comes out, but you hoped it wouldn't now.

Kento believed you, or pretended to do so. But he never brought it up again, seeing how painful and difficult it was for you to restrain the dread that stirred in your bosom. Yet you never forgot a thing, not for a second. Fear was slowly shackling you in its iron grip, not letting you take a deep breath. You carried these thoughts and fragments of the dream with you for several more days, until the heaviness in your chest became unbearable. You went in search of Gojo, deep in your heart hoping to find some relief in his words. He was the only person to whom you told that wretched dream, withholding nothing, trying to recollect the smallest details.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said in a frighteningly calm voice, “this day will never come. Who said all of your nightmares have to come true, huh? It could just be a dream where things got mixed up. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, sweets. Nanami will be just fine.”

“But...,” before you could even begin, Satoru cut you off.

“But if that day ever comes, I'll take care of it, I'm the strongest, remember?” he smiled broadly, winking, and encouragingly shook you by the shoulders before disappearing around the corner.

Your heart desperately wished to believe him, to grasp the thought and never let it go, to give in to this devious deception. But your mind knew that it was a vain hope that you couldn’t afford.

So you spent your days in a constant emotional torment, clinging to Kento a little more often, holding him a little longer before leaving on another mission, kissing him a little more desperate in the hope of delaying the day's arrival.

But it came many times faster than you could have ever anticipated.

It seems all you had time to do was blink, there you were, lying on Kento's chest, tracing patterns on his skin, enveloped in warmth and serenity, as the next moment, he was going on a mission to Shibuya, donning his jacket. You knew that this was exactly what you feared the most. Your made–up quiet life was crumbling before your eyes with every step he took toward the door. Your heart was beating with such force in your temples that you could barely hear your own thoughts. You followed him on his heels as he gathered the necessary things, frantically fidgeting your fingers and trying to find a reason for him to stay. His calm expression wasn't helping; you wanted to punch him in the chest, to tell him that he couldn't leave you like this; he couldn't be so calm, walking toward his death…And he could not know that, but even if he did, he would rather be of service there, and lay down his life saving others. In your mind you were sending his heroism to hell, but you knew he was doing the right thing. You ran barefoot after him to the door, desperately grabbing his hand and begging him not to leave. He only smiled warmly, kissing you on the lips a few times goodbye.

“Before you know it, I'll be back, and we'll go to our favorite restaurant and order our [favorite dish], I promise. Don't miss me that much," he added between kisses, I’ll still have time to bore you.”

“Bullshit...,” you whispered helplessly, “why can't you stay with me? Please? They can handle it. Or I could go with you.”

“These kids need help; I can be of help to them there, who knows what that veil means, and what lies behind it. And you need to take care of yourself, darling. I love you.”

Those were the last words you heard, and then the door closed behind him. You slowly slid down the wall, choking back tears and hating your own helplessness. You cursed everyone and everything for constantly being robbed of the opportunity to just be. It was so damn unfair, how many trials had fallen to your fates, but in spite of that, your paths crossed, your lives collided, only to have him taken away forever.

The higher–ups refused to send you along, assuring you that if things got really bad, you would be their ace in the hole. So you were left alone with your thoughts in an empty college classroom, wondering how you could be their trump card if you couldn't save the dearest man in your life. Oh and how you begged for your prayers to be answered, for Satoru to take care of everything and bring Nanami back to you alive. You sat in a chair by the window, swaying frantically, your eyes remained focused on the skyline. You had an earpiece in your ear, like all the sorcerers who went there. You flinched at every rustle, every sound breaking the silence of the half–empty building. It was the only way you could get the latest news in real time. You couldn't stay in one place for long, either sitting or standing up, or pacing the room with your hands in your pockets for hours. You felt as if you were in a cage, unable to leave the confines of your own prison. Your lips were bleeding from how hard your teeth were digging into them.

And then you received news that made your heart stop beating, and you barely had time to grab the edge of the table to keep your balance and not fall to the floor. Satoru got sealed. You couldn't really comprehend anything. Your thoughts were muddled, and your legs were treacherously shaky. But...he's the strongest, isn't he? What would happen to all those left to fight now? The questions swarmed through your head, giving you a massive headache. If anything, there was no one else to come to help.

You'd been too long the one to be rescued, hidden, fed on promises, and left behind. You had the strength that some students were envious of, and you were no worse than the rest – perhaps even superior in some respects. You were so tired of being cornered, scared, weak and vulnerable. You had strength in you that anyone who came across your path would know about. You no longer planned to hide; you grabbed your backpack, and, clutching your katana tightly in your hand, headed straight to the open grinning mouth of the monster called doom.

Meanwhile, physical pain permeating Kento’s whole body reverberated with tenfold force in his heart; once behind the veil, he realized that things were much worse than anyone could have ever imagined. Gojo was in a prison realm, which meant that an even greater responsibility for the lives of all the students fell on his shoulders. His thoughts were filled with you when one of the curses almost took his life, the moment he lost his left eye. His hair was now down, blond strands covered with dried blood clinging to his forehead. His shirt, once clean and perfectly ironed, was now torn in places, showing traces of blood that was not his own. But he kept moving forward you, knowing that you would do the same, you would return to him, no matter what it cost. And he would do the same. The steps no longer came as easily as before, but he tried to ignore such trifles. Now it was vital to concentrate on the enemy, to think faster, more coherent, more unpredictable. Kento stepped toward Jogo, hoping to protect Megumi and Maki, who had suffered enough already. And they were just children who should never have experienced such horrors of life. He swung his knife to strike, but his opponent moved twice faster, reaching out, almost touching his torso, as someone pushed Kento back with force, cutting off the curse’s arm up to the elbow.

Kento, falling backwards, looked up in disbelief only to meet your [color] eyes, which were filled with mixture of remorse and relief. You clutched your katana firmly, blood dripping from its edge. You couldn't wait to hug him tightly right then and there, as the sight of him shattering your heart into a billion pieces, but you had to finish what you started.

“Let me save you just once,” you muttered softly, barely managing to touch the Jogo’s forehead, who seemed to lose sight of what was happening, pressing the rest of his bloody hand to his chest and screaming in an unmanly voice, as Kento leaped up and tried to catch your hand. All he felt was emptiness. It was too late and he found himself separated by a barrier created by your Domain Expansion. Now that Jogo was trapped inside of it, all power was concentrated in your small hands, and you weren't going to give him any indulgences.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing?” The cursed spirit shrieked, baring his black teeth and choking with indignation, his eyes darting from your face to your katana.

“It doesn't matter who I am, you'd better think of yourself,” you ignored his questions, and with a sudden, unprecedented confidence, you strode slowly back and forth, not even glancing at him.

“Where are we? Where is everyone?” Jogo looked around; trying to spot anyone's presence, but the station was completely empty. A grimace of horror washed over his face.

“We're in your dream,” you finally turned in his direction, “I'm inside your head, and your body is lying on the floor there on the station while we're here chatting. And while we're here, you're going to tell me what the hell is going on here and who's behind it all. I know someone is using Geto's body. Who’s that and why?”

“Why would I ever answer your fucking questions? You're just another useless bitch who pretends to be worth something,” he grinned, clenching his single hand into a fist.

“You see, you're deeply wrong on my account, I actually do worth something. You're on my territory now, and if you don't tell me anything, you'll die, I guarantee that,” you raised your katana, pointing it in his direction.

“And if I do?” Jogo narrowed his eye, looking at you intently.

“Then you'd die quicker and less excruciatingly, I could arrange that,” the corners of your lips curved up, forming a semblance of a smile. “You won't touch any of these people again.”

“Oh, so it's something personal,” now it was the curse's turn to look down at you, smiling evilly. I wanted to set that blond guy on fire so fucking much.

Something shivered inside you, but you didn't give it away, continuing to look directly at him. Your face showed no emotion.

“It is, but that's none of your fucking business. It's time for you to hurry up and make a decision about my offer. It seems it was very merciful of me not to kill you in agony.”

“Fuck you!” he shrieked furiously and sprinted towards you.

There was a snap. The only thing Jogo heard was a snap before he was blown to bits. Since the cursed energy in you reached its peak, that simple gesture was just enough to end it all at once.

The barrier, through which Kento had been vainly trying to break through all this time, collapsed the second the last drop of Jogo's blood touched the cold concrete floor. You turned around in an instant and saw your man, his hands with the knife hovering in place, exactly where the barrier wall had once been. His startled eye scanned you for visible wounds, but as soon as Kento realized you were unharmed, he tossed the knife aside, closing the distance between you in a few steps. You dropped your katana, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your whole body against him. Kento could feel you trembling in his arms. Pulling you impossibly close to his body, his arms wrapped around your waist. As you found the strength to pull away slightly, your hands moved to his face, now gently stroking his blood–covered cheekbones. "You're alive, you're alive," you repeated as if in a delirium, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Your gaze flickered across his face until it landed on his lips. Unable to wait any longer, you kissed him, not giving him a chance to say a word. It was messy, desperate, so impatient, yet so moving. Teeth, tongues and all. Your fingers clutched the collar of his shirt, as he ran his hand through your hair.

You pulled away first, smiling weakly, but so sincerely through your tears. Kento gently wiped the tear that was rolling down your cheek.

“You...where is that curse? Are you okay? I... I nearly lost my mind, why are you here and...” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Shh,” you put your index finger to his lips, “he's gone, I got rid of him, but that's not over. I need to tell you everything, I need to tell you everything I saw in that dream when you found me in our bedroom, remember? You have to listen to me. We can't let this happen; we have to make it right. I'm not leaving without you.”

And you told him everything that was going to happen next, not hiding a thing, caressing his hand, assuring him that things would be okay. You were able to contact the others to give coordinates. You knew the place where Mahito would be waiting, and with a heavy heart, but his hand in yours, you headed there. Kento wasn't sure your plan would work, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was almost resigned to the fact that he would die today, because both yours and his powers, were running out, but the faith that finally sparked somewhere deep within you, your eyes that burned with hope for the first time in years became his little driving force.

It seemed like you got there a little too quickly. Your self–confidence was dwindling with every step you took. But you had no right to make a mistake. Kento had come to your rescue so many times; without him, you would have been dead long ago. You had to find the strength to help everyone.

Kento went first. You were left waiting and once again praying to God that you would be in time to help. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor echoed through the deserted station. Kento walked confidently down the stairs, knife at the ready.

“Here you are at last, and all by yourself. Wanna chat?” A tall figure rounded a corner, coming out into the light. He has long grayish–blue hair covering part of his face, but his twisted smile was impossible to miss, “no one would bother us, it’s been a while.” His figure started approaching Kento, extending his arms in an open hug.

“He's not alone, you fucker,” you hissed, stepping out of the shadows, appearing behind Kento's back. At the same moment, other sorcerers in all directions began to come out, trapping Mahito in a circle. For a moment his face lit up in amazement, and taking advantage of the pause, Kento struck a blow, cutting off the hand that had been extended to him. Mahito froze in place, staring in bewilderment at the spot where his hand had just been.

„It's funny that you're all here,” he burst out laughing insanely, flying into the air and landing a little farther away, “it's more entertaining that way.” He waved a hand, tossing the little figures to the floor and at the same moment the pile of curses, which were once humans, increased in size and moved toward you. All the sorcerers who were there rushed into action, using all their techniques, flying into the air as they moved with the speed of the wind, scattering curses in different directions. You fought back–to–back with Kento, not moving a step away. You wielded your blades swiftly and skillfully, slicing apart the creatures that approached you.

Mahito was on the sidelines, climbing on top of the photo booth, watching with rapt attention as everyone fought to the death. But his gaze was fixed on Kento.

„Oh how much I enjoy watching you, we could have been good friends… but it's time to get rid of you,” he giggled, jumping to the ground and motioning in your direction.

You could see him coming, the way he deftly dodged punches from all sides. Mahito moved as if the station was empty and there was no one around him, no katanas ringing through the air and nothing disturbing the silence. His long hair was flying in the wind, revealing his fastened with stitches face, blood dripping from the rest of his arm, leaving trails stretching behind him.

You swallowed hard, glancing furtively at Kento, who was fighting another curse beside you without seeing what was going on behind, and with icy hands but a hot heart you lifted your head, raising an eyebrow.

“Is it time for real fun?” you uttered with ostensible confidence.

“Oh yes, and you're getting in the way,” he tilted his head, displaying his grin. “I'm going to have to end it with you real quick.”

His arm extended forward, almost grabbing you by the throat, but you jumped to his side just in time, splitting part of his face with your katana. You moved easily, confidently, precisely, remembering how your trainer had praised you when you'd knocked out boys twice your size as a little girl. You fought off all his attacks, and with every second his lips grew into a bigger smile. He played with you like a cat with a mouse, letting you get closer and inflicting painful wounds. And, when, you hesitated for a second, searching for Kento with your eyes, Mahito flung your katana away and swept you off your feet, pinning you to the floor with his foot.

“It's fun with you, too,” he leaned closer, “but time is running out, and I have an important business here, so,” his hand, which had turned into a drill, moved closer to your face, “it's time to say goodbye.”

You knew that without the ability to use your technique and the low level of cursed energy you had almost no chance to gain the upper hand. So you relied entirely on your physical abilities, and your goal was to distract and hold him off until someone else could deliver the final blow. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kento's figure emerge behind him.

“I'll miss you,” you said, spitting blood.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and his lips fluttered open to say something else, but the next second, Kento's knife sliced him in half.

You threw your head back, exhaling spasmodically, lifting your arm with desperate efforts to cover the wound on your side. Kento was right beside you, covering your hand with his own, looking regretfully at your small, bruised figure, lying in a pool of blood. All the sounds subsided; you could see that not a single curse was left around you anymore. Itadori helped Megumi up, looking intently in your direction.

“It'll be all right,” you said quietly, smiling haggardly, and pointed to your intertwined hands, blood slowly seeping out through your fingers. “Shoko will patch us up, and we'll be fine, and...”

“Thank you for saving me,” you both said simultaneously, without taking your eyes off each other.

You smiled softly, reaching your hand out to his face, gently running your thumb across the left side of his face. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

„I wish I'd gotten there sooner, we could have kicked everyone's asses,” you squeezed your eyes shut, and, overcoming the pain, you gingerly sat down on the floor.

“We did it,” Kento smiled softly, taking your hand in his, kissing your palm, “and now we have to get out of here.”

He was at his wits' end, but nothing could stop him from lifting you into his arms bridal style. His arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you close to him, and slowly, limping, he carried you to the exit of the station, to where the veil ended and your life was to begin from scratch. Yes, it was only the beginning of the war, but for you, it was now over.

***

It's been months of long recovery for both of you so that you can now sit together in a restaurant and truly enjoy that very [favorite dish]. Your eyes sparkle with pure joy, and a smile almost never leaves your lips, just from the fact that Kento is sitting across from you, smiling embarrassedly at the corners of his lips, not yet used to his new look, but he's getting there. Your hands rest on the table, fingers intertwined, like your lives that no one else will ever be able to part again. You smile even wider, moving closer to him and leaving a light kiss on his cheek, just under his eye patch. And for the first time, you feel that it is not the nightmare that stops you, but it is you who now stops it.

@shamelessperfectionhideout @vagabond-umlaut @afortoru @mitsuyeaah @gojoshooter @nikokopuffs @luckimoon @sokivv 🫣

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

#i had tons of breakdowns while writing it #kento nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk headcanons #itadori jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic

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crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

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Charmcaster and Mike!💚

I present to you the chaotic magical duo! They were pretty fun to draw with their colours and different body shapes, and these two I've been really wanting to talk about since I've made a lot of rewrite changes for them. Before I get into that, I recommend you read my Dagon Arc Rewrite, to get a better idea of where I've taken these characters, as I involved them quite a bit in that story line. Albedo will be the next redesign eventually, and I'm glad people are liking what I'm doing with these characters so far.

-Mike Morningstar-

Soooo, Mike. He's always been an interesting concept to me, because there are two ways you could make his character go. One way is to just go full out with the creep and power hungry factor, making him a villain through and through, which can provide a very eerie character, which is the route canon mostly too. The other way, which I've taken, is you could make him a very complicated character, tragic even, with the idea of "If someone was born with dark magic, how would the world treat them", and since canon (Both the original series and reboot timeline) as taken the more evil villain approached, I'm taking a much different approach because I think his story can add a lot of interesting dynamics. In terms of his design, I went for the "rich winter" outfit aesthetic, since this lad does know his fashion and tastes.

Mike is an Apotrodite from his mother's side, the dark magic equivalent of Anodites. This means Mike primarily uses dark magic, but unlike other people, his Apotrodite sides means he is in full control of himself, and can't be tainted by dark magic. But that doesn't mean everything goes well...

His parents are Lilith Morningstar and Samael Morningstar, both Plumbers who work in the magical department of things, and since Lilith can use dark magic without it corrupting her, the two get a hefty amount of money working in a field only they can really handle. So they're a very rich family, owning two mansions on earth, and some holiday homes.

Mike was an...accident, not something planned, but his parents wanted to see what it was like, not realizing how raising a child takes a lot of work, especially one that was born half Apotrodite. You see, since Mike was only half, his dark magic didn't come naturally to him for a while, needing to adjust and train himself. There were worries Mike would end up hurting someone, which both Lilith and Samael were nervous about, since Apotrodites didn't have a good reputation anywhere for their use of dark magic. They feared that if Lilith or Mike made a mistake, they'll both be shipped back to their homeworld, which none of them wanted...

Sadly, a mistake did happen one day. Mike didn't mean too, it just happened suddenly, but he ended up hurting two other kids in Plumber Kindergarden, giving one magical burns, and nearly draining the life out of another. He felt horrible over what happened, and couldn't stop sobbing for the rest of the day as everyone debated what to do, and had a long discussion with Mike's parents. Lilith and Samael ended up pulling Mike out from school to homeschool him from now on...and didn't trust Mike to leave the house on his own ever, the fears getting the better of them. So...you could say Mike's childhood was rather lonely and depressing. Eventually as he grew older, he got into lots of arguments with his parents, until finally snapping and running away sometime after his encounter with Ben and his friends. If everyone was going to treat him like a monster, then he might as well be what they say he was and do it being free...

Mike does have an Apotrodite form, much like how Gwen has an Anodite form, but he hardly ever turns into it, even if it would save him energy and make his human form 'rot' less. He doesn't like being reminded of what he is, the reason behind all his problems...

He loves cats, and has always wanted one since he learnt about them.

Mike did end up helping Charmcaster when she was losing herself in omniverse, during the final fight with her. He was one of the few who managed to snap her out of her insanity, and later when she was recovering, she tracked him down with the help of Ben, and managed to convince him to come to Ledgerdomain with her, wanting to repay him for his help. Along with knowing that Mike was really just lonely and tired with the world...something she could relate too...

His hasn't been in contact with his parents since running away from home, and they haven't made an effort to reach out to him, not sure how to approach their son after what he became...

Mike and Hex have a very...awkward dynamic, since neither know how to talk to the other, especially regarding Charmcaster.

Loves scarfs, he just likes the way they look and feel.

-Hope Charmcaster-

Miss Charmcaster, a character who keeps spinning on that plot merry go round. She was defiantly someone who went insane due to how often the writing changed her up, which is a shame since she is a very interesting character, so that's what I'm here for. For her redesign, I've always loved the idea of her being short, plump and very curvy, and entirely confident with her body and looks. She knows she's hot, and owns it. I kept her outfit similar to her original and omniverse style, but played around with the look of it.

Her mother died at childbirth, so her father had to raise her own his own, with the help of Uncle Hex from time to time. Eventually after what happened in Ledgerdomain with Addwaitya, Hex has been looking after her since she was 8, but it wasn't easy, especially when he started tapping into dark magic to find ways to fight Addwaitya, and eventually going power hungry. Charmcaster knows Hex was trying his best, but there are things she can't forgive him for, even if they're getting better during her recovery.

She has black markings on her hands due to her use of the Alpha Rune and dark magic. The Alpha Rune also left a mark on her chest right above her heart. She is subconscious about these things, and tends to hide them from everyone and herself.

Ben 100% had a crush on her as a kid, and she knows it.

Charmcaster has a sweet tooth, and loves desserts. Her favorite is cake, strawberry cake to be precise.

She's still trying to be the Queen of Ledgerdomain, which isn't easy with what's left of it, but she's slowly getting them and creating a new age for the Kingdom, having opened it out to any magic user in the galaxy that needs a place to go.

Gwen and Charmcaster have been building up a nice friendship finally now that Charmcaster is getting help. It's been sweet, with Gwen doing normal teen and girl stuff that Charmcaster hasn't been able to do in years. The little things always remind her that she is human after all.

She is still on the hunt for Addwaitya with the help of Gwen, Hex, Mike and the Plumbers, after the turtle managed to run away during the fight against her.

Later on Mike and Charmcaster do meet other Apotrodites, and visit their homeworld, and does feel bad for their situation. They pair end up letting a good chunk of them move to Ledgerdomain, where it will be safe for them from the outside galaxy, and their contribution of dark magic knowledge really helps Ledgerdomain in the long run.

#Ben 10 #B10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 original series #Ben 10 Mike Morningstar #Mike Morningstar #Ben 10 Charmcaster #Charmcaster #Morningcaster #Ben 10 Redesign #Ben 10 Rewrite #My Art

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searedwood · 3 years

Text

30 Day Gay Journal Prompts

This is specifically designed for Pride Month and self celebration, but this can be for literally any other use. Except hate. No hate allowed.

Day 1- Write your preferred name(s), pronouns, nice nouns (nouns you like to be referred to as), and bad nouns (nouns you don't like to be referred to as).

Day 2- Record your triggers, from really bad to not as bad to getting over it. Add any specifications or notes if you feel like you need them. This is so you can identify what makes you uncomfortable or panicked, which will help you be able to identify and avoid a situation in which you may feel threatened, uncomfortable, or panicked.

Day 3- Make a list of signs that you are having a panic attack. This will help you be able to communicate to close friends or family members what may happen in an event you become panicked. This will also help you identify when you're having a panic attack, which will help you be able to calm down. Additionally, record some ways that will help stop the panic attack. For me, some ways of calming down are to go outside, my stuffie, breathing and grounding exercises, comfort music, and puns or jokes.

Day 4- Take some time and think about what makes you happy and relaxed. Write down your comfort music, comfort videos, and comfort characters. If you have a comfort game or movie, include that as well. This is to help you identify a source of calm, relaxation, and happiness that you can easily fall back on if you are uncomfortable or scared.

Day 5- Do some research on LGBTQIA+ labels, flags, and symbols. Write down your gender identity and what it means for you. Write down your sexual and romantic orientations as well, and what they mean for you. Additionally, draw little Pride Flags and symbols beside each label. I drew the genderfaunet flag on the inside cover of my journal, along with corresponding flowers that represent what I see in my identity, as well as what I hope to integrate into myself (Snowdrop - rebirth, Chrysanthemum - truth, Rose leaves - hope, Lilacs - growth/progress, Yarrow - healing, and Narcissus - self love)

Day 6- Write down the titles of your favorite LGBTQIA+ books, movies, TV shows, and games, or titles you want to see/read/play. Do a little digging and find out what titles sound interesting. Supporting LGBTQIA+ creators is a wonderful way to celebrate Pride.

Day 7- Journaling doesn't have to be just writing. Try drawing some LGBTQIA+ inspired art, whether it's just a few doodles, a flag or two, or a beautiful painting. Dedicate this entry to expressing yourself and your identity in a way without words.

Day 8- Write gay poetry. You may not think yourself talented or particularly good at writing poems, but that doesn't mean you should keep yourself from doing it, even for a day. Poetry is a wonderful way to bend language to your will and express yourself in a way that only you have to understand. Write a poem expressing your experience in the LGBTQIA+ community, or a poem detailing your first gay crush. Whatever you feel on your heart today, put it into beautifully unique words.

Day 9- Write about the moment you realized you weren't straight or binary. Alternatively, write about the moment you learned what the LGBTQIA+ community was. Describe your feelings and thoughts in the moment, and reflect over how they have changed and evolved over time.

Day 10- Take a moment and think about where you would be if LGBTQIA+ rights have existed all along, without the need for reform laws or protests. Write down who you think you would be, how you would live, and how easy it would be to do things you can't right now. At the same time, think about the disadvantages. Consider the lack of a fight for freedom and how that may influence your opinion or thoughts.

Day 11- Write a letter to your younger self. Tell your younger self about who you are and who you've become. Give them words of encouragement about the journey ahead. Remind your younger self that no matter what happens, you turn out to be a wonderful and beautiful person.

Day 12- Write a letter to your older self. Detail your present experience as a member/ally of the LGBTQIA+ community. Present your ideas about where the community will be moving forward and how much progress society as a whole will make. Ask yourself some questions, like "How do you celebrate your identity?" Later in the future, you can come back to this letter and respond.

Day 13- Learn some phrases or words of Polari. Polari is a critically endangered language invented by young gay men living in Britain. It was also used by circus men and theatre kids. Few LGBTQIA+ people now know of the language, so there's no better time to try to revive it.

Day 14- Do some research on Pride history. Record interesting or important events that marked the history of the LGBTQIA+ community. What happened at the first Pride Parade? Who was the first advocate for gay and lesbian marriage? What was the LGBTQIA+ community like before it was acceptable to be openly queer?

Day 15- Write a letter to those that are anti-LGBTQIA+. Explain why queer rights are humans rights. Tell them that love is love. Or, if you're feeling like letting loose that anger, just tell them off. This letter is for your eyes only, so don't be afraid to get mean if it makes you feel better.

Day 16- Take a moment and think about how you wish to represent yourself. Do you want to wear skirts and dresses? Do you prefer baggy pants and a puffy jacket? Do you like wearing makeup? How do you style your hair? Record how you currently dress and look and how you wish you could dress and look. Write about how your wishes reflect your identity.

Day 17- Write some ways you can improve on the way you treat yourself. Are you hard on yourself because you just can't make the right grade? Do you obsess over how you don't fit in to your family's standards of gender and sexuality? Give yourself some love and think about how you can be nicer to yourself. Remind yourself that school grades aren't more important than your own needs. Remember that if you are in an unhealthy relationship with friends or family, it isn't your fault.

Day 18- Write about what really makes you feel like yourself. You know better than anyone what your authentic self is. So what is it? What makes you feel really... you?

Day 19- If someone described you, what would they say? This can be anything from physical appearance to personality. This can help you think about how you present yourself to others. Do you want more people to know exactly what gender you identify as? Do you not want people to know what pronouns you prefer?

Day 20- Do some research on neopronouns. If you don't use any, perhaps you'll find a set or three you feel comfortable with (if not, that's fine!) If you can't do your own research, try making up your own set! I sometimes feel semi-feminine, like just a little teaspoon of femininity, but I don't really like she/her pronouns. So, I made for myself a set that sounds similar but isn't quite there. Xe/Xer/Xers/Xerself. The 'x' is pronounced like the 's' in 'measure.' A good way to make sure you know how to use a set of neopronouns in a sentence is to use this example I got from pronouny: Today I went to the park with xer. Xe brought xer frisbee. At least, I think it was xers. By the end of the day, xe was throwing the frisbee to xerself.

Day 21- Have you heard the phrase "black sheep of the herd"? It refers to someone that doesn't really fit in to their social group. In what ways are you the black sheep? Is it because of your identity or orientation? How can you help others to see you aren't different and shouldn't be alienated? How can you encourage people to welcome LGBTQIA+ people to the herd?

Day 22- Imagine you are teaching a class of young children about LGBTQIA+, gender, and sexual/romantic orientations. What would you say? How would you encourage them to be open minded and to explore their own identities?

Day 23- With great Pride comes great hardships. There are many obstacles and difficulties when it comes to finding your true self and figuring out your identity and orientation. What hardships have you overcome? What have you learned from them?

Day 24- One of your friends comes to you about having questions about gender identity. They are questioning their own identity and seek your help and support. List some ways you would help your friend feel supported and loved while also helping them discover their identity.

Day 25- List three things you would do if you weren't afraid. (For me, these would easily be: attending Pride Parades, advocating for queer rights, and coming out)

Day 26- Take your favorite or least favorite LGBTQIA+ ship and rewrite a scene as if they were together, or list some of your favorite queer ships.

Day 27- Discover some gender-neutral terms for things like family members, romantic partners, or honorifics (Mister, Miss, Mx.). If you can't find any you find interesting or comfortable, try creating some of your own. My pibling (parent+sibling) calls me their nibling or nibkid (NB term for sibling's child).

Day 28- Have you ever wanted to write a story? Record an idea or two, or three or four, for LGBTQIA+ stories. They can be anything from lesbian princesses to a coming-of-age trans story. Maybe you'll end up planning out your best seller!

Day 29- Think about what rights aren't granted to LGBTQIA+ people. What are they? Do they directly affect you as well? How do these lack of rights make you feel? What can you do to help advocate for these rights?

Day 30- The last day of Pride Month doesn't mean it's the last day of acceptance and love. How can you spread Pride throughout the year? How can you keep and open mind and heart and advocate for LGBTQIA+ rights? Maybe set a list of goals for yourself, things you want to keep up through the year.

#queer pride #lgbt pride #gay pride #lesbian pride #asexual pride #nonbinary pride #pride #writing prompts #journal prompts #lgbtqia #lgbt #lgbt community #love is love #gay #gay journal #queer #self love #queer representation

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gaycrouton · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder’s Senior Thesis

Scully reads Mulder's thesis to get even since he read hers, but she wasn't expecting just how much autobiographical insight she would gain into her new partner.

5k - MSR

Ao3 Link Here

Scully felt the indignant burn of embarrassment on her cheeks every time she thought about those words coming out of Mulder's mouth. "Einstein's Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation. Dana Scully Senior Thesis. Now that's a credential, rewriting Einstein." Worst of all, he said he'd actually read it. She didn't know him well enough to be able to tell if he truly liked it, but regardless, the fact he'd looked at it embarrassed her. She was a certified medical doctor, she'd written plenty of articles she was genuinely proud of over the years, yet Mulder had chosen to read her undergraduate thesis from the University of Maryland. She was only 22 when she wrote it, and she was pretty sure coffee and sleep deprivation contributed more to the final product than she did.

When she got home after that first day of work, the words still danced around her head "I read it. I liked it." Out of curiosity, she went through some old boxes to find a copy she knew she'd hidden away with a bunch of other college knicknacks, and just as she'd expected, it was full of errors and the misplaced arrogance of youth. The knowledge that Mulder had read it and formed an impression of her based on these old musings made her uncomfortable, and an irrational part of her wished she could go back in time and make it better.

It wasn't like it was an invasion of privacy, but to read her writing from years ago felt like a level of intimacy she wasn't ready to share with a near-stranger.

It had been a few months since he'd mentioned it, and they'd been working together just fine, but the thought that he'd seen this small side of her, Dana-the-co-ed who wanted to impress her professor so badly that she tried to rewrite Einstein, nagged at the back of her mind. Did he read her vulnerability, the way her words begged for her professor's praise? Could he read the pride she'd felt at the time for having taken on something so advantageous? Did he ever consider how forward that was, how off-putting to have one's thesis dug up from the grave?

But she knew that was exactly why he'd done it. Mulder wanted to make her uncomfortable. Not her exactly, but the new partner assigned to invade his space. She wasn't the profiler, but she knew he did it as a defense mechanism. Mulder had done it in front of her a few times now: if he acted as spooky as people thought he was, they would make fun of the caricature of himself he was playing, not the real, vulnerable Mulder.

Scully wondered if the thesis had any part in endearing herself to him, or did he look at it through a lens of judgement, finding every flaw and analyzing what he'd use to tease the new partner coming down to see him.

"I read it. I liked it."

It was one of the many times she'd started to spiral while thinking of how he thought of her. The spirals were usually brought upon anytime he ditched her during a case or when he investigated something on his own. A nagging feeling would grow in her abdomen that asked "Why doesn't he trust me fully?" And she would think back to that embarrassing insight he had into her. A few times she considered sending some of her other work, some of what she was more proud of to him, before ultimately realizing that he'd probably seen the titles and gone with the one that intrigued him most. The one he was probably most ready to laugh at, her brain would supplement.

Then she decided it would only be fair to read his.

She'd read his monograph on serial killers and the occult as part of her profiling training at the academy, but she knew there was probably an embarrassing thesis floating out there somewhere.

After the seed of an idea was planted in her mind, the roots started to overgrow all rational thought. She was fueled by a curiosity of what Oxford educated psychologist Fox Mulder sounded like in his early twenties. He was a bit arrogant now, though it wasn't repulsive in him like she found that quality to be in most men, but arrogant nonetheless. She could only imagine what a 22 year-old version of him sounded like.

Scully wondered what that must've been like, what the look on his advisor's face was when he inevitably postulated some intergalactic theory. Or did he choose a more mammalian creature to examine? Perhaps little grey men were too extreme, and he scaled it back to the cultural differences between Bigfoot, the chupacabra, and a yeti.

Luckily for her, she had a friend in the archival department who was able to locate his thesis for her with the payment of a coffee. It was dropped on her desk in an inconspicuous manila envelope, and she was able to sneak it into her purse before Mulder had a chance to notice.

Scully waited until she was home before tearing into it. It was about 60-pages, a nice length for a bachelor's thesis. She'd prepared for the event with a glass of wine and some snacks. A highlighter and some pencils were scattered around her in preparation for her night of learning more about her enigmatic partner. Despite the frivolity of it, she felt her heart thrumming in her chest, excited to meet this Mulder even if she intended to make jokes at his expense tomorrow to his older self.

She smiled to herself as she tried to have a last minute guess at what phenomena he'd focus on before a gasp tore from her lips at the reality.

Shared Grief and Repression: An examination of the psychological long-term impact of parental invalidation regarding familial trauma on childhood development

Fox Mulder - Senior Thesis

Oxford University

May 15th, 1983

Scully felt numb with the implications of this, but she couldn't help her curiosity. She read the entire thing in one night, unable to put it down. She barely knew Mulder well enough to distinguish if there was an autobiographical hurt child ghost-writing these hypotheses or if it was mere speculation, Mulder being desperate to understand himself. For all she knew this could have been a result of Mulder assisting a professor in their own research, the ties to his own past merely coincidental. Somewhere in her soul, she knew that despite her hesitance to admit it, she'd just learned far more about Mulder through this than he had learned about her through her nonsensical ramblings about Einstein.

What she did know, unquestionably, was that she would never tell him. That night she placed his thesis on top of hers, and hid their past selves in a box deep in her closet. She couldn't bring herself to throw his words out, so she would just have to live with them.

She didn't have Mulder's eidetic memory, but lines of his thesis stood out to her with the same clarity in which he'd recited hers. She never called upon them, they just came like a bolt of lightning that left a charred mark in its wake. It was as if she was the scientist observing if his hypotheses were true while Mulder acted as the living case study.

1993

"Adults who lacked comfort in their youth are prone to seek human connection out through other, non-conventional means, (Jenkins, 1945)."

While part of her acknowledged this was Mulder's office, the other part of her knew this was also the official office of the X-Files, of which she was an equal part. She hadn't felt this way since the last time she moved into one of her boyfriend's apartments. A few sweaters left in the closet, food in the fridge that was only for her, messages for her left on the answering machine - things that accumulated slowly until she decided it would be stupid to re-sign the lease at her own place.

That was effectively what she'd done here. She noticed that two women from the financial crimes unit were being forced to share a space, and, being she couldn't remember the last time she was in her own office, she decided to give it to one of them. Now, despite the fact Mulder was the only name on a placard outside and she was still trying to elbow space for herself on the other side of his desk, this was her office now too.

The space heater at their feet was hers, she'd brought a plant that was thriving in the annex of the office, she'd even managed to put a TV Guide clipping about Alf amongst all his other ones to see how long it would take him to notice. Even though those small things made her feel more 'at home,' she still wanted to claim a little more space for herself.

One day she decided to arrive before him, a box of her office supplies in hand, and take over one of the drawers of his desk. Just one - for now.

Scully plopped down in his chair, amazed at how much larger the indent he'd created was than her diminutive frame. With a sigh, she decided he'd probably be less inclined to be irritated if she took one of the bottom drawers. Pulling one out, she had to suppress a gasp of surprise.

She'd caught him reading nudie mags before, claiming they were for the abduction stories in the feedback sections, but this was… a lot.

Snowed in! Plowed out!

Shared Space (And a tight one at that!)

Years of Waiting, Big Explosion!

The titles made her grimace, but they weren't as bad as some she'd seen in her brothers' room growing up. The VHS tapes were lined up in the drawer in alphabetic order and their neon titles stuck out brightly to her. Pausing to listen for the sound of the elevator, she grabbed the one labeled Years of Waiting.

The summary on the back alluded to a couple who'd been in love for years finally consummating their shared attraction. It was surprisingly less crude than she'd anticipated. She picked up the one with space in the title and saw it was about two friends who had to share a room together while on vacation, and after a while, they can't keep their hands off each other.

She felt a furrow in her brow in confusion. These tapes all had similar descriptions to the dimestore paperback romance novels she'd buy from time to time. It seemed the story was just as important as the sex itself. One of them even had a cover of two people cupping the other's face as they leaned in for a kiss. Of course, the photo on the back was a naked sexual position that made her back hurt, but it overall wasn't as crude as she'd anticipated.

Mulder was into softcore, oddly sweet pornography?

She wasn't quite sure what to do with that information before she heard a ding come from down the hall. Scully quickly stuffed the VHS in her hands back in the drawer without looking, and instead moved to the bottom drawer on the other side of the desk. She was relieved to see it was some of his spare clothes and she dumped them on his desk before relocating her stuff into the drawer.

1994

"Children mimic what they see demonstrated in front of them (Smith, 1975). When a traumatic event occurs and parents cope without any outward displays of emotion, the child learns the expectation is that emotions are hidden. A potential development due to this is that the child understands how negatively invalidation felt, so they try to overcompensate when offering comfort to others, appearing unrelenting in their efforts to provide the comfort as the act itself is a comfort for them as well."

She stood there sobbing into his arms until she felt numb, soothed by the way his hands rubbed circles into her back as he whispered "You're alright. You're alright," into her hair, as if to assure himself as much as her.

The flash and subsequent whir of a crime scene camera made her jump and Mulder tightened his grip on her. "Can we have a minute?" he snapped, his voice coming out so harsh and stern compared to how he'd just talked to her.

She turned her head and saw they were in a room with at least ten other law enforcement officers - all with varying levels of pitiful expressions on their faces as they couldn't help but look at the embracing FBI agents.

Embarrassment flooded her and she withdrew her arms from around Mulder, bringing them together near her abdomen as she tried to take a step away. Mulder looked down at her in worry, cupping the side of her head with his hand. "Scully, don't push yourself," he lamented.

Scully shook her head and brought her hands shakily to the back of her neck, suddenly feeling choked by the table runner that had been used as a gag.

"Ma'am, we need to take a picture before yo-."

"I think we have enough evidence, don't you?" Mulder snapped, stepping forward in front of her like he was about to fight anyone who so much as looked at her.

She felt the crime scene analyst take a step away as they apologized to Mulder, but Scully was too busy fumbling with the tie at the back of her neck. She was starting to feel like she couldn't breathe and she was worried she was somehow tightening it. "Mulder?" she gasped.

Scully instantaneously felt his hands cover hers as he deftly untied the fabric, throwing it on the ground before brushing her hair back to make sure she was okay. "Breathe," he whispered, pulling her back to him so he could rub her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she whispered, her eyes focusing on the portrait of a Pfaster that was hung on the wall next to them.

Mulder stepped in front of it, replacing her line of vision with himself instead. "Please don't shut me out, Scully," he pleaded, his brows furrowed in concern. Mulder had comforted her a few times before in the past, but usually it was just a word or two of affirmation. Right now, he felt like he was the sole thing keeping her from drowning.

She glanced around and met the eyes of several people who instinctively looked away. "What do you need, Scully?" he prompted.

Scully looked back at him and noticed that he looked like he was going to combust if he couldn't do something to help her. She could pretend she didn't want his help tomorrow, for tonight, she'd allow them this symbiotic comfort. "I need to leave," she whispered.

"Will you let me take you to the hospital?" he asked.

She nodded once in response and that was all he needed. Without conferring with anyone else, he wrapped his arm around her and took her away from this nightmare.

1995

"Parents in these situations often do not realize the damage they are causing, nor are they actively trying to cause harm. Familial trauma effects all involved and, more often than not, the inattentiveness to the child's feelings is a result of parents being unable to handle their own."

Scully thought when she finally met Teena Mulder that a vital piece to the Mulder-puzzle would fall into place. She'd imagined a witch of a woman devoid of smile lines and with a tongue that could cut like a razor. The jagged-edged puzzle piece that would shift and create the perfect match to the soft edges of her partner who carried a burden from childhood that drove his every move.

Instead, she was met with a rosy cheeked woman who looked at her son's grave like she was contemplating if there was room for two.

It wasn't the piece she anticipated, but the puzzle shifted into place nonetheless, and she saw why Mulder could never admonish his parents while Scully had held so much resentment. Mulder was the sweetest man she knew. He could never find a place in his heart to resent a childless mother, even if she did have a child right next to her waiting to be loved.

Scully couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child, but she could empathize with this woman's pain at losing Mulder, even if only temporarily. Deciding it would be appropriate to go and talk to Mrs. Mulder now that the service was over, she steeled herself to tell the woman a sentiment she must have wanted to hear for decades.

"Your child is still alive."

Just not the one she was used to mourning.

1996

"Some children deal with internalized guilt because of the event. If parents or healthcare professionals neglect to discuss the event candidly to the child, this can cause them to believe they have done something wrong and that is the cause of the omission. When a memory of the event is triggered and the subject is reminded of the event, this can send them into a depressive state because of their guilt."

Mulder was contemplating dealing with Roche. She knew it without him telling her, not that he was saying much of anything in the first place. He hadn't been himself since this all started. No - he was being himself, and that's what was so painful about this all. Scully could see the guilt written all over his face, a guilt and a sense of responsibility so strong that her normally affable, goofy partner who always had something to say was resorting to one word responses and pensive stares. She was seeing the twelve year old little boy who blamed himself for his sister's disappearance, and it took everything in her not to bring him into her arms and tell him it wasn't his fault.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to erase the look on his face when he dug into the dirt of the forest with his bare hands, the desperation in his voice when he said "Help me, Scully." She was still deeply touched that when he was faced with the potential of finally finding his sister, he asked for her help. It sounded animalistic coming from his mouth, like his very soul was begging her. It felt like such a private moment, she was certain this was a part of Mulder he never showed anyone.

Finding out the truth about Samantha was the core being of his mission, his life's work, and being this close to the potential truth had left him bare like exposed nerves so oversensitized that he was numb. She'd never seen him so withdrawn and it killed her.

After they met with Roche and he'd teased Mulder, yet again, she drove him home. As grateful as she was he'd accepted, she was worried that he hadn't even refused in the first place.

"Mulder?" she tried, looking at him as they hit another red light.

He was staring at the dashboard as if the answers to his problems would manifest in front of him. Mulder didn't seem to hear her, so she tried again. "Mulder?"

"Hmm?" he hummed in response. If she hadn't heard it, she wouldn't have believed the sound even came from him as he didn't even slightly move. It was like a Mulder deep inside this shell answered, though his mouth couldn't form the words.

She put her hand on his shoulder, her thumb touching the exposed skin of his neck. He blinked and she took that as him acknowledging her. "Mulder, I'm worried about you," she whispered.

He finally turned to look at her and she saw exhaustion painting his features. "I have to know, Scully," he sighed, looking through her.

"He's using you, Mulder," she lamented, desperate to appeal to the part of him that begged for her help in the woods. The part that knew she was there for him, even if that meant telling him what he didn't want to hear.

Mulder shrugged lightly before turning to look ahead. "Probably," he sighed, resigned. He sounded used to this, used to being disheartened.

"I-" she started before a car honked behind her, making her hand shoot back to the wheel. They were only a block from his place, and he was getting out of the car before she had a chance to try talking to him again.

"Do you want me to come up with you?" she offered, reaching for her seatbelt.

He shook his head as he put his hand on the frame of the door. "I just need to think," he murmured, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Please, try to get some sleep, Mulder," she pleaded, only for the words to reach the interior of a closed car door.

1997

"Adults who have gone through this experience may find forming attachments difficult. It is not that they are emotionally stunted, but they've been primed through the childhood trauma to question if showing their authentic emotions is appropriate or not since they never received emotional validation. This desire to appear stoic is a defense mechanism that may seem like callousness, indifference, or flippancy in those around them. Because of this, when they do form bonds, they may be perceived as overbearing or clingy to the person they are close to."

She awoke to the sight of her own vigil taking place.

At first the only thing she was able to piece together was that the top of her hand was warm and wet. Then she smelled Mulder's hair and realized he was crying against her hand. For a moment she almost considered turning her hand so that her palm could press against his cheek - anything to comfort the man mourning the loss of his best friend.

"I'm still here," she wanted to say, but her throat clenched and her eyes burned as Mulder's choked sobs reiterated what they both knew: "For now."

She knew she meant a lot to him, but she never imagined herself being the person he bowed his head to in silent prayer.

1998

"These children may exhibit a pattern into adulthood of accepting behaviors and attitudes that others would refuse to put up with. As they are less likely to have positive self-worth, they may see themselves as deserving treatment that reaffirms these negative ideologies of self."

Mulder smirked. Fowley said they were allowed to investigate the X-Files as an indulgence, making Mulder seem like a child being pacified to keep busy to a room full of their peers, but since she said she held interest in his work, he smirked.

Now Mulder was talking to Skinner in his office while everyone else was told to step out into the hall. Most people in the room were content with going on a small walk, stretching their legs, but two people were left in the anteroom of the office poised in an awkward stand-off as they waited for Mulder to emerge.

His partner and his chickadee.

Scully sucked on her top teeth in annoyance as she glanced at Diana, watching as the woman appeared unfazed at the situation. Scully wished Arlene was here - anything to distract from the metronome of her aggravation.

Indulgence.

Chickadee.

Indulgence.

Chickadee.

The Gunmen hadn't explained why they broke up, seemingly shocked they did in the first place, and somewhere deep in Scully's soul she knew it was Diana's doing.

Was that why Mulder acted like that around her? Desperate to get some sort of validation, despite the fact this woman seemed to treat him poorly. Protectiveness flared up in Scully's chest and it threatened to choke her. At least, she wanted to blame it all on protectiveness. Acknowledging the part of herself that felt the bitter sting of indignation as she was condemned for wanting to make sure they were taken seriously while Fowley got a smirk for belittling their work.

"Things got a little heated in there. Didn't they?" Fowley called out, her voice sounding calm and collected as ever.

"I'd say so," Scully bit in response, sounding quite the opposite.

The door swung open and Mulder stepped out, looking around the room at the two women before telling Agent Fowley that Skinner was calling the Attorney General now.

Another smirk.

1999

"Because of childhood trauma, it may be harder for these individuals to let people in. They may be honest about their trauma, but when it comes to letting people see the intimate details of their life, they might be shrouded in mystery (Evans, 1969). Traumatized individuals will only share personal information with people they believe will not hurt them."

The young boy had to go home after thirty minutes of loading balls for them to hit, but Mulder didn't seem to be ready to call it quits yet - and, to be honest, neither was she. It was so rare that they got to spend time together that didn't involve a case. Even rarer was time spent together with so much levity.

Mulder paid the boy some extra money before picking up two mitts that were lying by the machine. "Here," he yelled before throwing one to her.

She caught the worn leather in both hands with a laugh that caused Mulder to smile. "What're we doing?" she asked, instinctively putting her hand in the oversized glove.

"Ever play catch, Scully," he replied, throwing a ball at her.

"I was never invited," she called out, shifting her feet against the sand underneath her to feel how it shifted. "You're my first."

"Mm," he hummed lewdly, causing her to blush at the way she phrased that.

"Underhand can be easier for amateurs," he replied before throwing the ball at her lightly from a few yards away.

Scully caught the ball in the mitt, smiling when he praised her. Then, mimicking him, she threw it overhand to him.

Mulder lifted his arm and caught it with a small jump. He looked at her with raised brows and a boyish grin that made the sensations she'd felt with him behind her stir back up in her abdomen. "You husslin' me, Scully?" he replied, tossing the ball at her with a little more speed.

She caught it with ease and shrugged. "What can I say? I learned from the best," she teased before throwing it back.

Teased. Scully didn't do that often, but she was starting to think maybe she should based on the way his lips curved up shyly. He'd been teasing and gently flirting with her since she met him. She was starting to see the appeal.

"I hope I didn't ruin any evening plans," he replied, throwing it at her.

It was always expected for Mulder to make himself sound like an inconvenience. Even after she just spent thirty minutes giggling in his arms and 'accidentally' moving her body against him in ways that she was sure to revisit when her hand was in her underwear, he still managed to convince himself he was a burden.

"I haven't had fun like this in a long time," she replied, bending to catch a lowball. "Besides, you let me listen to my music on the last road trip even though you didn't like it just because you wanted to hear what I like. I like learning what you like too," she replied sweetly, throwing it back to him with more speed.

Mulder smiled, playing with the ball in his hand before joking, "I just think Alanis Morissette needs to date better guys."

"Like you?" She didn't say it outloud, but she thought it. She jumped to catch a high ball he threw at her, causing him to burst out laughing.

"I'm serious though, Mulder. I like learning more about you," she replied.

Mulder ran to the side a bit to catch the toss before smiling shyly. "I want to learn more about you too."

She caught his next throw as she contemplated her next words. Deciding to take a page out of his book and be bold tonight, she asked, "I think… I think it would be fun if we spent more time together. Maybe we could have movie nights at each other's place or something?"

A smile erupted on Mulder's face before the ball hit him square in the nose - too distracted to catch what she'd hurled at him.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry," she chuckled sympathetically, running over to him and putting her gloved hand on his shoulder.

"I'd love that," he replied, his nose as pink as his cheeks.

2000

"It is not until the individual manages to come to terms with the familial trauma that healing may take place."

She never imagined what she might feel like in this moment because she never thought it would come. A potential romantic relationship with Mulder seemed like it was slowly migrating from the periphery into the foreground, and she was starting to come to terms with the idea that she may forever share the foreground spot of Mulder's sight with the memory of a little girl.

He said he was free, and he'd never looked more so. She had been worried after Harold Piller took off, but Mulder seemed nonplussed, just staring into the sky as if he was looking at an old friend, a small smile of acknowledgement on his lips. "Are you sure you're okay, Mulder?" she asked, reaching out and entwining her fingers in his.

He turned to her and, to her surprise, placed a kiss to the top of her forehead. She looked up at him with wide eyes and saw he was looking at her in adoration, as if nothing existed in this moment except her.

"Let's go home, Scully," he murmured, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear.

2000

"Adults dealing with residual trauma crave the emotional validation they did not receive as a child. Words of affirmation, consensual physical touch, and other forms of direct reassurance help the traumatized adult feel more self-assured with how they are being perceived."

This one comes to her, like most of these recollections of his thesis do, in the most random of moments. She was standing in his kitchen, wearing his shirt that acts as a dress on her, while she watched him make breakfast. For background noise, he just pressed play on the VCR and the Caddyshack tape from last night started playing over again. Maybe now she'll find out how it ends.

She'd been so desperate to know more about him during that time years ago when she'd read his thesis, that any line she read seemingly became permanently filed away in the Mulder folder of her brain. So now, as she stood here taking in all the new information about him that she was newly privy to - his inability to whistle despite his valiant efforts, the fact he can crack an egg with one hand despite having seemingly basic culinary skills, how he often takes moments to look at her as if he wants to make sure she's still here - the process of filing away the new information caused that little tidbit from seven years ago to leak out.

Deciding to test 22 year old Mulder's hypothesis, she walked over to him with her bare feet padding along the tiles of his floor, and wrapped her arms around his waist so that her chest was flush to his bare back.

"Is this about to be a culinary version of that scene from Ghost?" he asked, his muscles moving as he flipped a pancake over.

"I like being here," she murmured shyly, her words sounding weird from her cheek being smooshed against his back.

It felt weird, but not horribly so. They didn't communicate verbally all that well, it wasn't their thing, but if little moments like these held a chance of letting Mulder know how she felt, then she could overcome her own hang ups. It was a lot easier than mustering the courage to say the three words they already knew.

She felt Mulder's back twist, as if trying to look at her, before he turned back, likely not wanting to dislodge her. "I-I like you being here too," he stammered. While he also was clearly unused to this type of openness, the upward lilt of his inflection told her she'd made him happy.

She liked it.

Squeezing him once tightly, she added, "I'm glad I get to spend the day with you." They were sentiments so PG and mundane that she'd probably even said them to her mother before, but within this special context of her and Mulder's relationship - it felt like a huge step.

"If I knew making you breakfast would have gotten this reaction I would have done it years ago," he joked, though his words were laden with sincerity. She felt him pause for a moment before timidly moving one hand to rest on top of hers.

She smiled into his back and pressed a gentle kiss against warm flesh as Mulder's own version of those three words wrapped around her heart.

#x files #fanfic #mulder #scully #character study #trauma #angst #fluff #ust to rst #irresistible #blessing way #paper hearts #the end #the unnatural #closure #je souhaite #x files fanfiction

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