#I feel so much pride being a descendant of this woman

[reconnecting-rainydays]

just searching my gg grandmothers name on Facebook bc I was bored made me realize the amount of family in the tribe I actually have…. incredibly bittersweet

not to mention two of her works (she was a master basket weaver) which I’m so happy to even just see pictures of

[thesassypadawan]

Witchy Woman (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: After playing a rather nasty trick on you at the beginning of spooky season.  You’ve been slowly taking out your revenge on J by constantly teasing, never letting him have the treat he wants so badly.  Maybe he should learn how to beg a little better or to not piss off a witchy woman. 

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Begging, edging, riding, bullying from a smexy witch cop, mockery of a hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

🎉A VERY HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO @everydaydreamer🎉

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  See how high she flies…’

- The familiar tune filtered out from the speaker.  Playing softly, filling your apartment with its bewitching tune.  Setting the perfect mood for a cozy, sinfully good Halloween night in.  Watching movies, passing out candy, indulging in other sweet treats.  At least, that’s what your handsome devil hopes for…

- Bracing your palms on his firm chest; fingers gently knead, manicured nails lightly scratch at each inked pec.  “Fuck, sweetheart; killin’ me.”  You lift yourself off of him a few torturous inches; reveling in the way he grunts, squirms beneath.  “Been a month.”  Brow knitted in frustration, teeth gritted.  “Don’t…don’t make me beg.”    

- “Almost.”  Before slowly sinking down, pushing his generous length deep inside you once more.  “It’s been almost a month.”  Breathy sigh escaping while you savor the stretch, the ache, the delectable sensation of being full of him.  “And you should, after that nasty trick you played on me.”

- Keeping your pace controlled, lazy.  You clench your walls around him as you rise, swiveling your hips as you descend once more. “Said…shit-”  Causing A.J. to let out a low hiss; hands twitching uselessly above his head, wrists bound and held in place by a pair of dime store cuffs.  “Said I was sorry.”

- With a wicked little laugh, you push him deep inside your heat.  “That’s…mmmh…  That’s not good enough.”  Leaning forward ghosting your lips over his.  “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

- Pulling back, palms trailing lower; following, tracing the lines of his body.  “Beg.”  Come to rest on his toned thighs, squeezing the sinewy muscles.  “Behave.”

- Before dragging his cock in and out.  “Let me use you for my own fun.”   Thrusts slow, deliberately shallow so that he can watch himself disappear.  How your pussy hungrily, greedily takes and swallows him up every time.  “Then maybe I’ll consider ending that dry spell of yours…give you a nice treat.”

- “Dammit, fine…FINE!”  There it was, the last shreds of his stubborn pride gone.  “Please.”  Those simple, magic words that you have been waiting to hear.  “PLEASE!”  Coming from such a cunning, smooth man.  Makes a certain kind of warmth spread in your chest, to other extremities.

- “Getting there.”  Sticking two fingers in his mouth; swirling, moistening them on his tongue.  “But you can do better.”  Removing each with a wet sounding pop; bringing them to, rubbing your clit.

- Tilting your head to the side, nibbling your bottom.  “Why don’t you try again.”  Rolling, pinching the sensitive bud.  Moaning and cooing in way that drives him crazy, gets that monster of his really twitching.  “With more feeling, baaaaby.”

- “Fuck…fuck!”  He groans frustratedly; tugging at his restraints, coffee table scraping gently on the floor.  “Please…so-sorry!”  While his hips buck weakly, impatiently; undoubtedly seeking out more friction, more stimulation.  “Promise, won’t-”

- “Uh-uh, that’s not how you do it.”  You scold; pausing your motions, clamping down.  “You could give it another go.”  Running a slick covered thumb across his bottom lip.  Spreading, coating it; only allowing him a small taste of your sweet essence.  “But-”

- A growl mixed with a grunt floats out from under you.  “But…but what?!”  Trying to thrust up again, pulling harder to free himself.  “Dammit, doll, lemme fuck ya already!”  Blue eyes blown wide, wild look in them; cheeks flush, skin glistening from his sweat.  “I’m blue!”  Blond hair tousled and free.

- Grinding against his pelvis, rocking slightly faster.  Allowing his fat head to barely brush that toe-curling spot.  Hell fire starts to pool in your stomach, thighs begin to quiver and burn.  “But-”  Gaze wanders to the clock hanging above the mantle briefly, then back to his bootifully ruined face.  Watching him writhe, feeling his whole body practically  throb.  “You’re out of time…conjugal visit is over.”

- Abruptly you pull off him.  Adjusting your badge printed panties, straightening the navy skirt of your costume.  Placing your police cap on your head, acting like you weren’t even fazed or still so riled up.  Ignoring the slew of swears and hollow threats…  “Fuckin’ witch!  Get back on this dick!”  …as you slip on the tight-fitting cock ring, kiss his blood red tip.

- “That’s Officer Witch,” you hum, unlocking his cuffs.  “Now, I suggest you think about what you did…how to properly apologize while serving candy duty.”  Showing off your just out of reach cleavage.   “Oh, and I wouldn’t put that hat back on if I were you…unless you want me to tack on some extra days to your sentence.”  Enjoying the sight of A.J. rubbing his wrists and balls a tad too much.

- And even more so as he shifts uncomfortably from side to side, neck straining ever so slightly.  The forced smile he gives every ghost and goblin that approach your door.  The constant muttering, complaining under his breath about the churning and the ache.  “Sure you’re not a witch, sweetheart?”

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  She got the moon in her eye…’

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

~Yanderes For Everyone~

Here's some yandere prompts and imagines, both romantic and platonic, for those who want some non sexual yandere adoration ❤️ Happy Pride!

Romantic/Asexual Scenarios:

M!Yandere x M!Reader

Yandere!Best Friend who couldn't figure out at first why it hurt so badly when you had friends other than him until a classmate attempted to ask you out

Yandere!Best Friend really just wants the two of you to continue playing games together, and live together, and adopt a couple of dogs together, and grow old together.. y'know, like how best friends do

Yandere!Best Friend becomes a complete menace when he learns what asexuality is, and that one can be both gay and ace

Yandere!Best Friend who is determined to prove that you don't need anyone else but him, even if it means cutting you off from the outside world

Yandere!Best Friend's method of "seduction" is stealthily turning off your phone's notifications while you're hanging out and tricking you into staying over longer than you intended

"You can't leave yet! I forgot to show you this new game I bought; it has couch co-op, and I just put pizza bites in the oven!"

Fem!Yandere x Fem!Reader

Yandere!Nun who enjoys her days at the convent, tending to flowers and taking care of those in need. She doesn't care so much about her vows to God, but enjoys a life free from the societal expectations she was gifted from birth as a woman.

Yandere!Nun is stunned when she sees you for the very first time. It was like witnessing an angel descend upon the earth, or experiencing a divine prophetic dream

Yandere!Nun loves being near her own personal angel, who's voice brings a joy she's never known before

Yandere!Nun is crushed when she learns that this isn't a final home for you like it is for her, and is instead merely a way for you to receive an education before your inevitable debut into society

Yandere!Nun who becomes determined to keep you with her, forever tending to the garden and feeding the poor, and decides that she will do whatever it takes to keep you by her side...

"Really, aren't you safer here? I mean, under God's protection, we can be happy! ..together.."

Yandere!Succubus x GN!Reader

Yandere!Succubus who's never enjoyed sex, not even once in the past thousand years she's been alive

Yandere!Succubus feels she must "grin and bear it", putting on a fake smile and bracing herself for the worse when she is once again summoned to the human world

Only to be floored by you, who summoned her from a spell in an ominous old book you found in the attic, not knowing that she was a succubus

Yandere!Succubus can feel herself falling for you every time she is summoned for some mundane task that doesn't involve her body, whether it be helping you finish a work assignment last minute or assisting with household chores

Yandere!Succubus refuses to answer the summoning rituals of lonely humans, instead spending all her time with you, even when you don't call for her

Yandere!Succubus knows that when it's your time, you will inevitably be punished, and has already made plans for your "departure" from this world

It'll be like you never died, you'll blink and be 25 again, baking cookies with her in your kitchen while she tells you about her day, laughing as she flirts with you and never questioning why Monday never seems to arrive

Yandere!Merman x GN!Reader

Yandere!Merman who meets you in a very silly and cliche way: being rescued after getting tangled up in garbage

Yandere!Merman acts distraught when you refuse to accept any gifts from him, trying to convince him that you don't need to be rewarded for doing the right thing

Yandere!Merman finds himself enamored with you, wanting to extend your visit longer, going as far as to grab your ankle when you try to leave

He begins running out of reasons to keep you, but you promise you'll be back again in the morning, and boy does he feel like crying when you stay true to your word and return to him

Yandere!Merman feels a little guilty about deceiving you, but when he learns that you're only there on "vacation" and that you'll be going "back to work" soon, he had to do something!

Yandere!Merman who finally gets you to accept a gift, a little glass vial that he claims is a traditional drink his people enjoy

He apologizes over and over again when the "drink" causes you to transform, robbing you of your legs. Wiping your tears away and crying himself, claiming that he had no idea it would have that affect on a human! But that he's ready to take responsibility, and take care of you for the rest of your new life under the water..

Yandere!Spirit x GN!Reader

Yandere!Spirit who's been dead for so long that they've forgotten what it was like to be human

Their body has warped as they lost memories of their previous life, elongating and discoloring, their skin a hollow grey and their body thin and stretched

Yandere!Spirit is approached one day by you, a human who not only can see them, but isn't afraid of them

Yandere!Spirit had forgotten what warmth was, but being in your presence was almost like having a heartbeat again

Yandere!Spirit becomes addicted to you, begging to stay by your side and continue basking in the sunlight of your smile, feeling that this is what it must have felt like to be alive

"Don't ask me to stay home.. does it really bother you that people think you're talking to yourself? I just.. please don't leave me again.."

Aroace/Platonic Scenarios:

Yandere!Catboy x GN!Reader

Yandere!Catboy who breaks into your house one day, and decides that your home is now his home as well

Yandere!Catboy demands attention and affection when he wants it.. and it usually just happens to be when you're busy

Yandere!Catboy has no sense of personal space, and didn't care if you're on the phone with your mother, he needs to use your lap as a pillow right. now.

Yandere!Catboy is a pain in the ass, treating you like a prince's servant, but he adores you in his own, possessive way

"Why do you smell like another cat?! I don't care if that skank was an aCtUaL cAt, those hands should only be rubbing these ears! Now get to it!"

Yandere!Big Sister x GN!Reader

Yandere!Big Sister who isn't actually related to you, but took pity on you and offered you a ride one night when you were walking home in the rain

Yandere!Big Sister sees herself in you, despite the gender difference, believing you to be as lonely as she is

Yandere!Big Sister begins keeping an eye out for you on her trips around town, doing her best to gain your trust slowly enough where she wouldn't scare you off

Yandere!Big Sister invites herself over to your apartment the moment she thinks you might not hate her, bringing gifts of junk food and beer

Yandere!Big Sister is so convinced that you are like her, that she "protects" you from your "obviously shitty" family, blocking their numbers on your phone while you're passed out, isolating you from the people that would hurt you

"That ass forgot your birthday?! I'm so sorry, kiddo.. If it makes you feel any better.. I already picked up a cake on my way over here~"

Yandere!Cult x Deity!Reader

Yandere!Cult Members who passionately worship you with a fervor that makes you worried for their mental stability

Resurrected from obsoletion, you were obviously overwhelmed with joy, being a small, nearly forgotten deity.. but when you witnessed your congregation, you realized they weren't regular worshippers

Yandere!Cult Members exist in a state of ecstasy for you, giving up their lives to join the cult they made in your name

Yandere!Cult Members who take what little text survived from your past followers, and turned it into a doctrine so absolute, that any deviation has them on their knees begging for forgiveness

And when you make yourself known, trying to calm the pitiful humans, share some comfort with them that you are not a god that enjoys this kind of devotion, the Yandere!Cult is in a state of euphoria, unable to comprehend your words..

"You appear! For us! We are not worthy of your presence, and yet you are such a kind and loving god that you appear.. for us!! No sacrifice is too great for one such as yourself!!"

Yandere!Toy Maker x GN!Reader

Yandere!Toy Maker who never liked humans; they talk too much, they smell funny, they grow old, and worse of all, they die

Yandere!Toy Maker changes his tune when he first meets you

Yandere!Toy Maker is fascinated by you, because unlike most humans, you don't annoy him; you're like a wind up dolly, only saying what he wants to hear

Yandere!Toy Maker uses you as his inspiration, making toys and dolls of all types that look like you, often gifting you adult sized clothes that are replicas of the outfits he makes for the little yous

Yandere!Toy Maker seriously considers stuffing your body, turning you into a toy that will never grow old; never leave him

But he could never.. even if he put a drawstring on your back, it wouldn't be the same.. he still doesn't have enough recordings of you talking to replace your presence..

✨Bonus✨

Yandere!Bed x GN!Reader

The mattress was on sale at the cheap little store you were visiting for the first time. And honestly, the deal was too good to pass up. When was the last time you got a new bed? Didn't you deserve to wake up not in pain?

So you brought it home.

It was a pain in the ass, but you got it into your apartment by yourself and set it up.

It. Was. Heaven.

You couldn't remember the last time you fell asleep so quickly, but it felt like you blacked out the second you laid down. In fact, it was so comfortable, you slept through all three of your alarms.

Shit.

But even being late to work and getting yelled at by your boss didn't faze you. The entire day it was like you were walking on clouds; you were so well rested that all you could think about was going home to your new bed: excited to sleep again.

And for the first couple of weeks, your coworkers didn't say anything. But they began worrying about you, suspecting that you might be depressed or something. All you talked about was your bed; how you never slept so well in your life, how laying down was like falling straight into the dream world... But you never looked worse.

Despite your claims that you were sleeping like a corpse, you were beginning to look like the dead. The bags under your eyes were hollow and heavy, your skin was paling, and your movements were slow and weak.

However, it didn't matter what they said.

That mattress was the single best purchase you've ever made in your whole entire life.

Lying down was like being enveloped in the embrace of a parent.

It didn't bother you when your boss fired you in front of your concerned fellow employees..

It just meant that you would have more time to sleep.

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - My love for the cowboy space dad, Sam Coe, has eclipsed to the point where I am now writing him fanfic...what a time to be alive, y'all. Anyway, enjoy the results of my brain rot, and let me know what you thought of it >.> More may be to come if he continues to plague my every waking thought

WARNINGS: Some angst on poor Cora's part, thanks to Lillian. Some Lillian bashing, thanks to reader. It's not specified if reader and Sam are fully together at this point in the story, but it's implied. Post 'Matters of the Hart' mission.

The bay of the Razorleaf slowly descended with a hydraulic hiss, finally clanking against the tarmac of a landing pad. From the bottom of the ramp, you watched as the dusty, endlessly sun-bleached landscape of Akira came into view. The first unfiltered breath of the atmosphere hit the back of your throat unpleasantly. How anyone tolerated such a low humidity every single day, you couldn’t guess. Akila was kind enough not to be a sweltering wasteland on top of it all, so…small victories there.

You’d not been much impressed with the sight of the planet the first time you’d landed on it, and it still gave no better impression now. Sand-swept walls and buildings rose from an equally monotone environment. It wasn’t hard to picture the planet might one day just swallow the city whole and leave nothing after to show there’d been civilization there. Perhaps through sheer stubbornness and pride, the Akila City citizens kept their place in the galaxy.

A long-suffering sigh and a set of muted footsteps approach from your right. Sam stops beside you and gazes across his home planet with equal apprehension. His arms cross and he levels his hometown’s ‘Welcome to Akila City’ archway a woeful stare.

“Never gets any easier…”

You’re not surprised by his reluctance to return home. A visit to Jacob Coe was never an occasion to celebrate, and this one would be particularly disappointing, given Sam would also be relinquishing his daughter to Lillian for that long-time-promised week vacation Cora mentioned every opportunity she could. You didn’t fault the almost-teen for being excited to see her mother, but it wasn’t hard to miss Sam’s lack of enthusiasm for the whole affair. He loved his daughter above anything else, and letting her go for such a length of time wouldn’t be easy.

This stop was a ‘two birds, one stone’ of all of Sam’s least favorite activities. His less-than-cheery mood was understandable, and you couldn’t help but share this feeling. After months of the inquisitive girl aboard your vessel, you’d gotten so used to the random questions and cringe-inducing jokes that the impending silence was admittedly quite daunting.

Akila just so happened to be the closest planet to where Lillian had finished up a month-long assignment. With the promise that she had time-off to spend, Sam had agreed to have the Ranger pick Cora up here, and it would ultimately be where you and Sam retrieved her after their time together. It ate the cowboy up inside, you could tell. But he kept quiet and put on a facade of support if only for Cora’s sake.

“I don’t see Lillian’s ship.” He added, sweeping his gaze past the entrance to the city and across to the other landing pads. Concern began to overtake the displeasure of being on Akila, and you could instantly follow where his internal thoughts were leading.

“We did get here earlier than planned.” You finally say, laying a calming hand on the man’s jacketed arm and earning his attention. It’s not like you were were defending the woman, but it was a little silly to assume anything when the Razorleaf had just touched down almost 2 hours before you’d agreed to rendezvous with the Ranger. You might dislike Lillian Hart, but you weren’t that petty. “Give it some time.”

“Yeah, yeah…you’re right.” After an affirming deep breath and a weary shake of his head, some of the tension in his shoulders eases. Some, but not all. “I’m just…not too optimistic about this.”

“I know.”

“She’s flaked before, and this one means a whole lot to Cora.” He went on, as if you weren’t already aware of the meaning behind it all. “I can’t help but worry she’s not gonna show.”

“We’ll handle that if it comes to it. For now, just take a breath.” You say, flashing him your best reassuring smile. Even he could tell it was a little forced, but he did return the gesture with a muted one of his own. At the very least, you made sure he didn’t have to face whatever might happen by himself.

Razorleaf’s airlock releases behind you, and Cora’s beaming smile leaves the ship before she does, her small suitcase of belongings in tow behind her. You’re willing to bet there are more books than there are clothes in there, but hey, you wouldn’t judge. She blunders down the ramp with an energy you’d never seen before, curls bouncing atop her head the whole way, finally coming to a breathless stop next to her father.

“Is she here yet?” She questions, eyes already darting around the spaceport before receiving an answer.

“Not just yet, string bean.” Sam gave her hair a good-natured rustle, smile regaining some of its warmth as he addressed his daughter. “I’ve got some business with your grandpa first, so we arrived a bit early. I’m sure she’ll be touching down soon enough.”

You don’t comment on the edge of uncertainty that accompanies that last part. And thankfully, Cora doesn’t ask to go with her father for a family visit. Sam always preferred her to be as far away from Jacob as possible. At some point, you assume Cora understood why, though she’d never directly voiced it.

Sam pats his daughter’s cheek affectionately. “I shouldn’t be too long. Y/N’s gonna keep you company until your mother gets here. Don’t you go anywhere until I get back to say goodbye, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Cora gives an exaggerated little roll of her eyes, but her smile is ever-present. “I promise, dad."

“That a’girl.” He says, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the top of her head. Then, his attention turns to you. “You two gonna be alright?”

“We’ll be just fine.” Is your reply, promising through unspoken word to keep Cora safe and sound while he was away. The reassurance is what he needed most, and you were more than happy to provide it. “We’ll make sure to have way more fun than you will.”

“Heh. Yeah, well…that won’t be too hard.” Sam’s head tilted a little, eyes squinting, already picturing the impending encounter with his own father. “I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

You wave your companion goodbye, watching him disappear past the protective walls of Akila City, then turn to the girl practically buzzing with excitement beside you. “We’ve got a bit of time to kill. So…where to first?”

This earns you an amused laugh, and the two of you begin walking towards the entrance of the city. “Do you even need to ask?”

“I figured today might be the day you just surprise me.”

You’re not sure how much time you spend standing around watching Cora browse the many books in Akila City’s—woefully small, in your opinion—selection. Seeing her over the moon at each new title, eyes scanning the summaries and even skimming the inner pages never got old. Her enthusiasm for the first new book she’d laid eyes on was just as exuberant as what was possibly the 18th book that afternoon.

The girl was a talker, chatting up the bookstore owners with the passion of a scholar. You could tell the women weren’t used to having someone so forthcoming with their love of literature in their store, but they quickly joined Cora’s wavelength and discussed their favorite volumes at length.

More than content to stand off to the side and let the girl have her fun, you interjected where appropriate, but for the most part just let the conversation go without you. Cora could talk for two people, anyway.

Eventually, even she had her fill of the bookstore, stomach grumbling with the need for food. You walked out of the store only a few hundred credits poorer—a miracle if there ever was one—and headed off to the chunks establishment just down the way. Akila was a maze at the best of times, but for once you managed to navigate the streets with little trouble.

You stood in line and debated with the young bibliophile what the best flavor of chunks was, but couldn’t come to an agreement. Your own favorite was completely out of stock when you managed to get help from the attendant, so you went with Cora’s favorite instead. 

With sated stomachs and a few new books for Cora in tow, you return to the spaceport to wait on the ship until either Sam or Lillian arrive. One glance around at the other landing pads confirms that Lillian’s ship had still not touched down. Sam still hadn’t comm’d you after an hour and a half, which meant his meeting with Jacob probably wasn’t going well. Regardless, you knew he’d make his way back to the Razorleaf in time to see his daughter off, even if it meant leaving business unfinished with his father.

You hid your worry behind a carefully neutral interest in whatever Cora had been talking about while you walked back to the Razorleaf, but that pit of dread began to dig its way into your stomach. Anger simmered right behind it. Cora didn’t seem to notice your rapidly worsening mood, which was all the better. If your fears turned out to be unwarranted, no need to rub it off on the girl.

When the ship’s communicator finally chimed with an incoming transmission, both yours and Cora’s heads jerked up. Being closer to the cockpit, you slid into the captain’s chair just as Cora ran by your side. Immediately, you knew it wasn’t Sam reaching out, and instead the woman you were meant to be meeting in…28 minutes. Cora’s face lit up with the prospect that it was her mother calling to tell them she was almost there.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be that optimistic.

One touch on your control panel accepted the transmission. Before you could even issue the standard greeting, Cora chimed in with a bubbly, “Hi, Mom!”

Hearing her daughter’s voice had caught the Ranger off guard. There was a pause before she responded. “Cora, angel…how are you?”

Her tone of voice made you stiffen in your seat, mouth pressing into a thin line, but Cora didn’t notice. She leaned forward against your chair’s armrest.

“I’m great! Are you almost here? I’ve got my bag all packed, so as soon as Dad comes back from Grandpa’s we can leave.”

“Ah, I was actually hoping to speak with your dad. Do you know how long he’ll be?” 

Figures she’d try to speak with Sam instead of breaking her daughter’s heart directly, you think bitterly. You wondered if she even realized how selfish it was to put the responsibility on her ex-husband to break this crushing news.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. And I found a few books we can read together while we travel to wherever we are going. I know you’ll like them.”

Your heart broke further with each new word the curly-haired pre-teen spoke, knowing what was about to happen. The taste of your chunks packet earlier was overshadowed by the bitterness of anger as it bubbled hotter under your skin.

“That’s great, sweetie, but…” Lillian’s voice trailed off, guilt or embarrassment or some equally fitting emotion coloring her tone. Perhaps she’d realized that there was no softening the blow she was about to deliver. “…listen. Something came up that I have to take care of. I’m so sorry, Cora. I’m not gonna be able to make it this time.”

A full second, maybe two, of silence passed, Cora processing what her mother had said. Seeing the girl’s face morph from elation at hearing her mother’s voice to something akin to confused betrayal tore at the deepest parts of your heart. If you could have saved her from this, you would have. But Cora being in the ship meant that she’d hear every word spoken no matter where in the craft she was.

“Oh.”

That one word, uttered with such devastating resignation. Cora straightened from leaning across your armrest and stood there with a carefully put together mask. You could see every crack and fracture in the young girl’s facade, but she put up a valiant effort to appear unaffected.

Lillian must have heard the same, and continued again before you could interject anything.

“I know how much you were looking forward to this, and trust me when I say I was too. I’d love nothing more than to take you away to a little paradise together and just spend the days hangin’ out without a care in the world.” Lillian’s attempts at smoothing over the hurt did nothing at all to fix anything about this. “I promise you, we’ll get together and have our week-long vacation, do or die, one of these days.”

Cora didn’t say anything. So unlike the chatty pre-teen. She looked down at her shoes, before quietly taking a hold of her suitcase you now realized she’d dragged with her in her rush to the cockpit.

“It’s alright, mom. We’ll figure it out someday.” Dear God, she barely sounded like Cora…all color was missing from her voice. So little life.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” And with that, she turned and padded her way back to the cot at the back of the ship. Perhaps she didn’t want you to witness her misery, because she went so far as to close the hatch to the cockpit, leaving you by yourself with Lillian still connected. Even with the hatch closed, Cora might still hear the conversation, but given everything that had happened, you no longer gave a damn.

“What is it this time, Lillian?” Your voice is full of barely restrained venom as you lean forward in your chair. You can’t see the woman through the audio transmission, but you were glaring anyway. “What’s so important that you couldn’t keep your promise to your daughter?”

The sweetness present when she’d spoken with Cora was absent, replaced by cold indifference when addressing you. The contrast was so stark, if you hadn’t already known her, you’d say they were two separate women. “You talk like this doesn’t hurt me just as much as it does Cora.”

“Because it doesn’t.” You say, reminding yourself to restrain the worst of your emotions. It wouldn’t do Cora any favors by cursing out her absentee mother from the other room. That wasn’t what the girl needed right now. Your head shakes with a rueful scoff. “If you could only see, Lilian…the way that girl’s face shattered. Then maybe you’d understand just how much more she’s hurting. But no, instead you do this over comms where you don’t have to look her in the eyes. Hell, you were going to put it on Sam to break the news, weren’t you?”

Lillian, perhaps smartly, doesn’t rise to that particular insinuation. “I do what I can, when I can to be there. It’s unfortunately a lot less than I’d like, but my duty is to protect the people of Freestar Space. I have obligations I can’t just ignore.”

“You seem to have forgotten your obligations as a mother in the process.”

“I’d give anything to be there with my little girl. Don’t ever imply I wouldn’t.”

“If that were the case, you’d have found someone else to handle whatever ‘came up.’ When it comes down to it, you don’t give anything, and you need to. Each missed visit convinces her that she’s another step further down on your list of priorities. What do you think happens when she believes she’s at the bottom?” You retort, already exhausted over this whole conversation.

“Cora knows how much she means to me, how important she is.” Funny, you think Lillian almost has herself convinced.

If it kept going at this rate, you were likely to start yelling, and that wouldn’t end well. Besides, Cora needed someone to be with her right now, so things needed to end quickly. 

You let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, voice growing much quieter as you reigned in your fury. “Look, Lillian…Sam already explained this to you. You can’t keep doing this. Cora can’t. She’s already 12. 13 in just a few months. Before you know it, she won’t be a child anymore. At this rate, there will come a point when she decides waiting for you to bother isn’t worth the heartache. There will come a day when you retire, when the need to fulfill a duty is over and done, and she will not be there. Because in the moments when it mattered—really mattered—you weren’t there for her. You realize that, right?”

You hear the woman sigh, and deep down, you know she hates that this conversation ever had to take place as much as you do. You know, really, that Lillian had good intentions with her promises. And that’s what made it all the more frustrating when she failed to deliver. She was well aware of how important this all was. Her damned chronic workaholic personality and inability to set aside the needs of the many just wouldn’t allow her to put anything else above it. Even at the cost of her daughter’s trust and happiness.

“You sound more like her mother than I do sometimes…” The Ranger admits tiredly. “I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful.”

“Honestly, I don’t care how you feel about it.” You say with a shrug. “She needs someone to be there for her. Sam is a wonderful father, and always there when it counts, but that girl needs a mother too. I know I’ll never replace you in her heart, it's not something I'm trying to do anyway. But I’ll fill whatever role she needs me to be, if it keeps her smiling.”

You hear a muffled beeping through the transmission, followed by Lillian’s muttered curse. “Damn it…looks like I’m about to have company.”

“Spacers?” You weren’t really concerned, or even cared, and asked only out of obligation.

“Crimson Fleet, I think.” There’s a pause, and you know that the conversation had come to an end. Nothing had resolved, but you knew Lillian wasn’t likely to change who she was after a short talk. “Listen, tell Cora I love her. I expect I’ll hear from Sam later on about this. He has every right to be angry. I am who I am, and that’s exactly the reason we never would have worked out in the end. I only regret Cora is suffering because of it. But for now, duty calls.”

Always duty with this woman. “Be safe, Lillian.” You bid, already reaching for the console button to end the transmission.

“You too.”

The audio cuts off abruptly, and you lean back in your chair with a slow inhale. Dragging your hands down your face, you release the last of your anger in a harsh exhale. Best to get rid of it now, so it wasn’t obvious when you went to see Cora. Not wasting anymore time, you stand from the chair and open the hatch.

You find Cora sat on your cot, a thousand-yard stare fixed at some point on the floor in front of her. Her smile was long gone, replaced instead by the remains of whatever facade she’d crafted to appear put together and ok. The little suitcase she’d packed with all her belongings sat a few feet away. It was zipped halfway open, as if she’d began to unpack, but then thought better of it.

A sad sigh leaves your lips. For a moment, you just watch her, calculating how best to approach this conversation. Sam was much better equipped to handle something like this, but you weren’t sure how much longer he’d be, and it pained you having to see her in such despair. You couldn’t just sit back and let her stew in whatever thoughts might be dragging her further down.

You slowly approach the still-silent Cora, electing to sit at her side just a few inches apart. Whether she wanted physical comfort, or just someone to be nearby, you weren’t sure. But you were close enough that, should she need you, she didn’t need to go far.

And for awhile, the two of you just…sit there. Words fail you, and try as hard as you might to find the right ones to say that might heal some of the hurt in Cora’s heart, nothing feels good enough. But eventually, you hear the girl sniffle. The first sign that her careful hold on her emotions was beginning to crack.

“Mom is a good Ranger. She’s out there saving lots of lives and making the galaxy less dangerous.” Cora’s wavering voice says, and you nearly want to cry yourself hearing just how hard it was for her not to shed those tears. Perhaps this was something she told herself each day as justification for her mother's constant absence. “I know she’ll make it up to me one day. She always does, eventually.”

You bite your lip. “Cora-“

“But…just once,” another sniffle breaks through, and then the first tear slides down her cheek, “I was hoping that…that it would all go right and we’d be a-able to see each other for a whole week. There’s s-so much I want to show her and talk to…to her about.”

More tears follow the first, and you lift your sleeve to wipe them from her face gently. But they keep coming, now that the floodgates had opened, and Cora openly wept as she sat beside you, her true feelings spilling over in bucketfuls. You did your best to keep up, but it only takes minutes for her to be shaking with the overwhelming sadness.

“I just want my mom…” She sobs, covering her eyes with her hands to try stopping the flow. “That’s all.”

A sharp cry has you reaching for her shoulders and pulling the girl in close, and your heart leaps when she forcefully wraps her arms around your middle and buries her tear-stained face in your shirt. What you wouldn’t give to drag Lillian here by the hair and force her to be here for her daughter…

With soothing ‘shushing’ noises, you gently rock her back and forth, one hand patting her back and the other holding her head close. You don’t know what to say to her, truly. Finding the words to tell Lillian how much you thought she failed her daughter constantly and consistently was easy. Finding the words to tell her child that she deserved so much more than what she was being given? That was much more difficult.

You sat there while Cora poured her heart out. Through the sobs, she mumbled muffled and incoherent sentences into your shirt. You’re not sure what half of them were, but if she just wanted to get it all out and vent, that was fine with you. Your shirt was damp with her tears, but that was alright too. Nothing would pull you away from offering whatever support you could while she worked her way through the many emotions.

Eventually, Cora’s sobbing began to ebb, the shaking becoming less pronounced. Her breathing evens to something less stuttered and shallow, and before too long you realize she’d managed to cry herself to sleep against your side. The poor thing…you continued the gentle rocking motion just in case, not wanting to wake her up.

A dull beeping noise caught your attention, and you look up towards the cockpit where it emanated from. Your communicator, you realized. That was probably Sam, wanting to let you know that he was done with whatever him and Jacob had needed to discuss. Part of you thinks to get up and answer, but the thought of jostling Cora awake was too much. You sat there, figuring that Sam would return to the ship to look for the two of you.

If you had to guess, it was about ten minutes before you heard the footsteps coming up the Razorleaf’s ramp. You didn’t move from your spot, listening as the airlock hissed open. Somehow, the noise didn’t wake the exhausted Cora, who barely moved from her place next to you.

Sam nearly walked past you sitting on the cot, but his peripheral vision caught your presence, and he stopped. He took in the sight of his daughter curled into your side, her posture clearly indicating that she’d been crying. You met his gaze with a stony, cold fury, one he understood wasn’t directed at him personally. That one, silent stare was all he needed to figure out what had occurred while he’d been away. 

The inquisitive expression he’d worn coming in vanished, jaw setting tightly. Clearly agitated, Sam stepped a few paces away, hand rubbing along his jaw in an effort to remain calm in the face of what Lillian had put his daughter through once again. He looked like he wanted to throw something. His breathing was more pronounced, though came through in slow, methodical inhale and exhales through his nose. Truthfully, you don’t think you’d ever seen Sam so angry.

In time, he finds himself again, stowing away the anger for the sake of his daughter. He could vent his feelings to Lillian later, when Cora wouldn’t hear it, but for now the important thing was making sure his daughter was alright. That was something you would never grow tired of seeing; Sam’s absolute dedication to his little girl, no matter what.

He moves to sit on her other side, and leans down to kiss the top of her head. It didn’t matter to him if she was still sleeping. You slowly move to shift Cora’s weight over to Sam, and somehow manage it without waking the sleeping pre-teen. She stirs, but her eyes never open.

Sam takes off his cowboy hat and sets it next to him, leaning back and holding Cora closer to him. He settles in to sit there for awhile, unsure how long she’ll be out for. Then, his eyes glance up to meet your own, holding them with a look so full of…something, that you can’t look away.

“Thank you. You were there for her when she needed it.” He says, his voice raspy and quiet so as not to wake Cora. And while you know he couldn’t have heard your conversation with Lillian before, it’s eerie how similar his words were. “I appreciate that beyond words.”

You give a little shrug, eyes drifting back down to the girl in his arms. “She needs her dad now.”

“And you, Y/N.” He says, drawing your attention back up to him. He offers the smallest of smiles. “She needs you too.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply sit back and make yourself comfortable, waiting for Cora to awaken. Your hand rubs along her back, hoping that the two of you would somehow be able to fix some of what Lillian had broken.

[lady-phasma]

Do you believe Aemond is a Valyrian Supremacist? He models Daemon so much in his focus on Valyrian history, dragons, Targaryen blood etc, that to me I feel as though he must to some extent believe Targaryen's to be superior? I see alot of people defending him on the basis he isn't, but... I just don't see why Aemond of all characters wouldn't have feelings of superiority based on his blood? Extending from that, do you think he would have preferred to wed a Targaryen woman? We get a glimpse he feels that way from the TV show, but in the circumstances he had another sister instead of Helaena, surely he would have been betrothed to her/wanted to be? I just truly cannot see him as being free of "bigotry" in regards to seeing non- Valyrians as below him. Like? Isn't that the point of him hating Rhaneyra's sons? Because they are bastards from a lower House?

This is a really great ask, anon. Thank you for asking me. But of course, you asked me, so it’s no surprise that I will give a very me answer.

First, I really dislike having that phrase Valyrian Supremacist on my blog. I only have it one other time that I can remember and that was also an ask. Briefly, I’ll tell you why: it is a 20th-21st century Earth term that may not have been present in Westeros. If we are discussing in-universe theory and not literary/film theory then I choose to avoid it.

This may get long but I want to be as clear as possible: I only slightly agree with you. If we grant the premise, that he models parts of his personality after Daemon (which is a difficulty premise to grant in its entirety), then I would say that his Targaryen side would value that heritage to a degree. However, he cares deeply for his entire family and that includes the Hightowers. His last name is Targaryen, but let’s not forget he is also a Hightower. I think great houses/names are very important to royalty in Westeros, Aemond included. Hightowers are certainly not lowborn.

Trying to go in the same order as your questions, I would say next that all descendants of Valyria may feel superior because of history and dragon lore. I can never overlook House Velaryon in these discussions. They also have immense pride in their heritage and name. However, when you say “Aemond of all characters” I wonder exactly why he stands out as someone for whom this pride seems more important. If we examine his actions in season one and in the book, I think we can see that his character is no more or less concerned with it than the average character.

If he were more concerned with Targaryen blood and that pride fueled his decisions, what would that say about Alys Rivers? I think most fans who haven’t read the book know a little about her, but for those who don’t she was a bastard Aemond took as a “war bride.” Regardless of whether or not she bewitched him, we can’t talk about his life as a whole without mentioning her and their relationship. If she did, we aren't told at exactly what point that happened. He wasn't above sex with non-Targaryens.

Since it was first uttered, I have been obsessed with his line “I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” Leo Ashton delivered it with such sincerity and commitment that it is hard to argue against Aemond’s devotion to his family (not discussing any specific romantic ships here). As we know, royalty and aristocracy in Westeros get very little choice in who they wed. The hypothetical “if he had another sister” is interesting because that marriage would, ultimately, be decided by Viserys and Alicent.

Such a betrothal would have been seen as a duty and honorable, so I have no doubt that Aemond would have agreed. I don’t know that anyone would disagree that Aemond puts his family above everything else. Thus, I have yet to see in the series direct bigotry from him. Factually, with no nuance, the issue with Rhaneyra’s sons is illegitimacy. Every character may have a different interpretation as to how this effects the line of succession and only a few state it explicitly in the series. I would argue that Aemond doesn’t care that their father isn’t Laenor Velaryon when he first calls them bastards. Children at that age might not really comprehend the ramifications of that accusation (I think we see clearly that Aegon doesn’t). Aemond first dislikes his nephews because they were cruel to him. Yes, his brother was as well. The Pink Dread was seemingly almost entirely Aegon’s idea, but siblings often forgive each other more readily than they may forgive outsiders.

In Fire & Blood we get a clear picture of how much his animosity and resentment fuel his actions:

One by one, every man and boy with Strong blood in his veins was dragged forth and put to death, until the heap made of their heads stood three feet tall.

I do not think this action was about bloodlines or heritage. I believe this was entirely revenge. By this point in the Dance, Aemond is furious and nearly crazed by his need to avenge the wrongs done to his family. I don’t think it was an attempt to annihilate the Strong bloodline, but a show of force and power. Aemond is formidable, rash, and still young enough to not care about consequences. Perhaps you have noticed I skipped over the direct slight against him. Lucerys altered Aemond’s life irrevocably. Had this same mutilation happened to a low born boy, he would have had no future at all in Westeros. Aemond’s lifestyle was only salvaged because he is royalty and through determination of will.

Would the loss of an eye, the murder of one’s young nephew (Prince Jaehaerys), and the maiming of one’s brother cause a young prince to go nearly mad with rage and the need for revenge? I believe so. By this point in the Dance, further along than I think you asked about, Targaryen heritage is probably the last thing on Aemond’s mind. I have no doubt that he was raised to believe that dragons, the throne, and many other things make Targaryens better. But we should never discount his mother’s influence. This man loves her dearly and Alicent may provide some balance in his understanding of things. My headcanon about his religion (not particularly relevant here) comes from the canon that Alicent has a strong faith in the Seven. I think this has a deep effect on Aemond and could influence whether or not Targaryen blood is paramount to him.

Lastly, I wanted to address this statement:

I see a lot of people defending him on the basis he isn’t

I assume that you use “defending” in the sense that these fans attempt to separate him as somehow immune to this pride or better than other Targaryens. I don’t know that I have read exactly the defenses you’re referencing, but I will be clear: this is not a discussion of fanfiction. If that is an element of a work of fanfiction, then by all means, go for it. It doesn’t seem plausible, however, that anyone of Valyrian descent is immune to this type of indoctrination.

[missglittersmiles]

Noble To The Core- CH. 6

Descendants × Fem! ReaderSummary: Saturday is when the fun begins.

Prev Chapter

 •| ⊱ Wigs Part 1 ⊰ |•

Dear Family,

I'm afraid I have misplaced some of my letters I've written on the first day because I can't find them. I would have rewritten all of them, but I have been doing a lot of writing and my hand hurts. As you can already tell, this handwriting isn't my own. My roommate Frida Sutree has offered to write for me.

I am more than thankful that she is my roommate. We might even be reaching the point of calling each other friends. After a brief conversation, it is safe to say that I have made a friend here.

Everything is going well enough. The first day was eventful, and most of my time has been doing tests. The school wants to see what my academic level is. I can proudly say that I have been working hard! There hasn't been a moment where I haven't missed all of you. I hope you are all doing well.

Hopefully, in the next letter, I'll be the one writing it and I won't lose it. I still don't know what could have happened to them.

Next week is when I'll be starting my classes. I can't wait to see what it'll be like. Though regardless of how we did on the tests, we'll all be taking Remedial Goodness 101. They didn't explain much about it, but I have a basic idea of what it is. They also let us choose some classes. Aside from the required one, I'm most excited for art. I'll try to write to you soon. I love you all!

XOXO

y/n Vainira.

"Remedial Goodness 101?" The woman could feel a fire flaring up in her as she washed the dishes with her husband. The man gave her a sympathetic look, but she was too focused on scrubbing the dishes. "It's not like they could do anything. They're just kids. And they made a whole class because they don't think they'll behave or have basic morals? The gall to even think that. You know what it reminds me of—"

There was a slight cracking sound coming from the plate she was scrubbing. He gently grabbed the woman's wrist, stopping her movements. When she looked at him, the frustration in her eyes softened. She realized that she almost broke another plate. A sigh escaped her lips.

"I just worry. I'm already wondering if I made the wrong choice by letting her go there." He couldn't give her any comforting words without lying. It wasn't like he could speak anymore. So all he could do was rub circles on her wrist with his thumb. Tears poured down the woman's wrinkled face.

"I'm just scared that something's going to happen to her, and I can't even be there for her." She turned her head away from her husband. She hated being seen crying by anyone.

"But y/n's a good girl. She'll be fine. She's always been lucky." Her words sounded desperate. He let go of her wrist and held her hand. The two could only hope that their fears wouldn't come true.

For a brief moment, there was frustrated anger in her. It wasn't directed at y/n's future tribulations and her own inability to help her child. It was toward the one who was holding her hand so gently right now.

If only he hadn't been so reckless and fanatic, they wouldn't even have to be worrying about this. To her, it felt like the obvious choice was to throw everything behind. They could have run away. Left Vrahan that place only seemed to give him trouble anyway. Then they could find a new place to start their family. That's what they should have done. That should have been her ending.

It was either his extremist pride or his belief in this grandiose picture that led him down this path. He had spent years going to war with his only family. So much blood tainted the land he called home. He couldn't just throw that away, no matter how much she begged and cried. Love wouldn't win against a sword.

But in the end, it was both their fault for ending up here. Codrin with his unwavering belief and her own willingness to follow him to the end. They were the ones to bring children into this world. They brought this situation upon themselves.

She cracked a small, wistful smile at the image of her children. All of them are so different from one another, but still so precious. They were the ones who made her feel alive on this hellish island. "Everything will be fine." She said aloud. He squeezed her hand, and she responded with one as well. A wordless apology to each other and hope that her words were true.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The idea of going clothing shopping for the new students had been stirring around in Ben's mind for a while now. He wasn't against the shabby look of their clothes. They were fine, but everything looked like they had been through a number of fights. There were holes and poor stitches that were barely holding the fabric together.

Not to mention the backhanded comments from other students. No one said anything when the five were around, but when they were out of sight, so many snide remarks slipped out from the students' mouths. Sometimes they'd say it openly in front of Ben as if trying to bait a reaction out of him. Of course, he never caved in and gave them what they wanted.

He wasn't going to say that he regretted his choice. From what little he has seen of the five, they all seem to be a well-rounded bunch. Just a little different from everyone here, but that didn't make them bad. Their blood didn't mean they were any less than them. No one's future was determined.

So when Frida came up to Ben and asked if she could take y/n out for some shopping. He couldn't hide his grin. His plan of trying to integrate the Island kids was working faster than he thought.

"You don't have to ask for my permission." Ben's words were followed by a slight chuckle. Frida gave him a dubious look, which stopped his laughter. He went silent for a moment before realizing that asking for permission was probably the best thing.

As much as he didn't want the school to be a prison cell for the five. He couldn't exactly let them leave school grounds without some sort of security following behind them. It was a bit dehumanizing, he knows, but his parents believed that this was a safety net of sorts. Things could be worse. He just hoped that, over time, everyone would learn to respect one another.

Frida waited for the prince's response. Watching his face shift from mild sadness to his usual sunny self. "That is a great idea!" He gasped before adding, "We should plan a whole day for them to get out of school and do some shopping!" Frida stood as still as a statue and watched Ben go on and on.

She wasn't into fashion, but she thought updating y/n's wardrobe would brighten her mood. The Island girl had become less enthusiastic as the first week went on, and it wasn't just her missing letters that were bothering her. When Frida asked what was wrong, all she'd say was that she was tired and was missing home.

It was clear that wasn't the only problem, but she never pushed y/n to give her the full answer. Why bother forcing it out? That usually leads to hostility. Still, she was glad to have Ben back up her idea. She wasn't sure about adding the other four to their little field trip, but she'd put up with it.

The rest of that free period was spent talking about what shopping would look like. It was mostly Ben brainstorming aloud and Frida trying to get back to her classwork.

'At least we have everything planned out, I guess. Well, that's if the King and Queen agree.' Frida thought glumly as the bell rang. She was still slightly upset that her classwork wasn't partially finished. It threw off her whole schedule. With the appearance of y/n, she had thrown everything in for a loop.

Later that day, when school was over, Ben made a beeline towards the palace. It wasn't too far from the school, just a little over half an hour ride. When the carriage came to a stop, he practically jumped out and sprinted in. He quickly found his mom in the library. If she wasn't anywhere else, then she was there.

When Ben loudly busted down the door, Belle slightly jumped at the sudden noise. She looked up from her book with curiosity at who had rudely entered the room. Much to her surprise, it was Ben.

Belle looked at the clock and asked, "Don't you have tourney practice?" Ben shook his head, then thought for a moment before nodding. "Usually, yes, but all the bats have gone missing. Every single one, even the spare ones. Everyone thinks Percy is behind it, and I don't want to be quick to judge- ah. That doesn't matter right now. That's not why I'm here right now."

She was getting to the good part of the book, but she put it down and put all her attention on Ben. Not interrupting once while he talked on and on about getting the Isle kids new clothes. He wanted them to pick their clothes themselves instead of some random person doing it for them. He also wanted them to experience more than just the school. There was a whole world that they had yet to know about.

The whole time Ben spoke, his eyes sparkled with excitement and hope. He was hoping that with these five, they could show that rehabilitation was possible for some of the children of the Isle. With them being a success story, other kids could join the rehabilitation program as well. But at the same time, there wasn't anything wrong with wanting them to enjoy their time here.

Once Ben finished speaking, he looked at his mom. He looked at her with pleading eyes. Belle gave him a sympathetic smile as she said, "Let's talk to your father about this." She watched his shoulders slump slightly. They both knew how this would end, but he would need permission from both parties.

And so, during dinner, another debate between Father and Son began. Ben didn't bother easing into things or touching his food. When the king took his seat at the head of the table, Ben brought up his idea. Catching everyone off guard. Belle played moderator during the whole discussion to keep things from getting out of hand.

The two were so stubborn that it wasn't amusing to Belle anymore. In the end, the king declared that those five were to stay on school grounds until he believed that they wouldn't try to run away or something worse. Ben was going to argue more until Belle called his name. Her voice was as stern as her expression. Silently telling Ben to back down.

Ben bit his tongue and nodded his head. If his mom wasn't going to back him up, then there was no point in fighting with his father. It'd be an uphill battle, but regardless of the obvious loss, Ben was thinking.

Just as the room had calmed down, Ben spoke up to bring back the tension. "At least let me, Chad, Audrey, and Frida be the ones to pick out their clothes. We'll ask what they like, and then we'll get it." He turned to his mom while saying, "It's better to have us do it than some random strangers, right?"

Already wanting to be done with this topic in general. The king agreed, which ceased further conversations about the Isle kids. With that, Ben spent his free time silently thinking to himself.

It didn't take him long to plan out this idea. All that needed to be done was to get the cogs moving. There were definitely some cogs that wouldn't move, but a little oil would loosen them.

During the wee hours in the morning, Ben woke up. He didn't bother waiting around to join his parents for breakfast. There was too much to be done. He was on a timer, and his deadline was Saturday.

In his closet, he spent a good moment looking through clothes. Trying to find something that didn't look too flashy or make him stand out. Then he finally settled on a simple white button-up and some brown pants. He looked in the mirror and messed up his hair. With his hair looking like a bird's nest, he looked a little less recognizable. If someone were to really look at him, then they'd probably realize who he was.

He ordered his carriage, which surprised the servants by how early it was. Still, an order was an order, and they began preparing everything for the prince. While his ride was getting ready, he grabbed a bag and threw his usual clothes in there, along with a purse with too many coins in it.

When the carriage was ready, equipped with a horse and a coachman, Ben's parents were waking up. Just as he was about to enter, he turned to the servant standing by. "Tell Mom and Father that I said good morning for me." He said with a smile before jumping in.

As always, the ride between the castle and the school was long and boring. It was the main reason why he has his own room in the dorm. He used to share his dorm room with someone, but his parents unrolled him with the announcement about the Isle kids. Ben seemed to have lost a bit of respect amongst his peers and even friends because of his decision.

Ben didn't regret any of this, but he does wish some of his friends didn't leave him behind. Or at least tried to understand where he was coming from.

His social circle may have diminished quite a bit, but at least he had Audrey and Chad. They were still opposed to the Isle kids, yet were willing to support Ben. It seemed like Frida Sutree, the recluse princess, would be joining them in their effort. Though it seemed like Frida was only interested in y/n. Which was a small victory to Ben regardless.

As the carriage entered the town, Ben told the coachman to stop when he saw what he was looking for. The coachman did as told before Ben leaped out. "Sir, what are you doing!?" The old man yelled out to the prince. "Don't worry, I'll be right back! I just need to pick up something!" Ben told the coachman as he entered the store.

The store owner was startled by Ben busting into the store. He couldn't tell if the woman was more startled by having a customer this early in the morning or how much energy he had. The prince smiled as he made his way to the counter. "Good morning! How are you doing?"

The woman spoke with wide eyes, "Good morning to you as well. I-I'm doing well." Ben looked around the shop. Taking in everything in the prop shop. The whole place looked messy yet organized at the same time. So many knickknacks. The woman rubbed her eyes, trying to see if her sleepiness was making her see things.

"You do wigs here, don't you?" He asked. His question was responded with a wordless nod.

"Great! You don't happen to have." He stopped and looked at his hands. Silently naming off names with each finger. Then he looked back at the woman to continue speaking, "Nine spare wigs?"

The woman didn't raise an eyebrow and went in the back. After waiting for a few minutes, she came back with a box of wigs. He grabbed the whole box and asked, "How much for them?"

"All of them?" She asked.

"All of them."

The moment Ben got back to school, he sneaked into the girl's dorm. Tiptoeing to Audrey's room. He knocked on the door lightly. Audrey wasn't a light sleeper, and she always got up early, so he was confident that she'd answer. The moment she opened the door, he rushed in and right past her.

Before she could question her boyfriend, he held out the box. "Do you think any of these bring out my eyes?" She peered into the boxes to see wigs. "What are these for? Wait, why do you even have these in the first place?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Listen, I have a plan." At that moment, Audrey's confusion turned into weariness. Ben and his little ideas were interesting, but not always successful. For instance, the tree incident that his friends would bring up. Or when he put hot sauce up his nose when he had a cold when he was younger.

"No! Don't look at me like that! Just hear me out, please, Audrey. It's for a good cause." Ben pleaded with his girlfriend. She didn't even have to look at his puppy dog eyes. His voice was enough for her. The prince of Auradon could make her do anything if he just asked. It was unfair how much power he had over her, but she supposed that was just love.

She let out a slight sigh and sat on her bed. "Fine." There was a slight pang of satisfaction when she saw him smile, and he thanked her. He set the box down and began explaining everything. How his father still didn't trust the five off school grounds. Even with security. Then on to his plan.

On Saturday, they'd sneak the Isle kids out. Everyone would be disguised, just so they wouldn't attract any unnecessary attention. He's already working out a deal with one of the coachmen, and he could bribe some of the guards. Although he would prefer fewer people get involved, he doesn't want to end up working with loose lips.

The boy stood the whole time while he talked. Making slight hand gestures from time to time. When he was done, he asked what Audrey thought about it. Without hesitation, she told him, "You're doing too much for them." He blinked. "You've brought them here. Isn't that enough?"

"Audrey," His usual sunshine aura slightly disappearing. "You know there's so much that needs to be done. Think about how many kids will be saved from that place if this program works. I know you don't believe in this, but—"

Audrey held up her hand to silence him. His mouth slightly hung open, but he quickly closed it when she spoke. "I believe you." She looked him in the eyes to clarify herself. "I believe in you. And if this program doesn't go right. If everything goes up in flames, I won't say I told you so. Because Chad and everyone will be saying it for me."

A slight laugh slipped from Ben. She continued on. "But no matter what, I'll always be right beside you. Helping you with whatever trouble you get into next. I'm sure Chad will be right there as well."

Ben wiped the corner of his eyes with his fingertips. "Why do you always say the sweetest things that make me cry? It's not fair."

She spoke in mild amusement. "It must be love, I suppose."

Once his eyes were cleared of any tears, he asked the important question. "Are you going to help me sneak them out?" His words made her "tsk" aloud and shake her head. "After everything I just said, you think I'd say no?"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

"Why do you have to wear a wig?" y/n asked Frida.

"I guess the Prince is worried that I'll be recognized and ruin everything." Frida explained while putting on a red wig. Then she looked in the mirror and thought to herself, 'I don't even think the people of Auradon even know where Murkmire is on a map.'

The two went to gather Evie and Mal. Jay and Carlos would be picked up by Chad. Audrey and Ben would be waiting at the carriage. As the girls sneakily made their way to where the couple was waiting, y/n glanced at the two. Mal wore a short black wig. While Evie had a long green wig.

"Green looks good on you," y/n said without much thought. Evie smiled and spoke proudly, "Everything looks good on me." The other two had second thoughts on Evie's wig. The color was rather obnoxious and looked ugly. It didn't matter who wore it. No one could pull it off. Not even Evie. Still, they didn't voice their opinion. Mal had already spoken her mind just an hour ago.

When they made it to the stables, the boys had arrived before them. Jay busted out laughing when he saw Evie's wig. Carlos laughed as well, but he was much quieter. "What the hell is that?" Jay asked, pointing at Evie.

Evie flipped her hair while striking a pose. "It's called fashion, Jay. It's something you've never heard of." He shook his head slightly. His smile never faltered. "Whatever you say, snot green." She paid no mind to the name.

Chad introduced himself to the girls. Evie's eyes went wide when she heard his last name. Before she could start flirting with him, he focused his attention on Frida. "What do you think about long hair?" He asked while running his fingers through his blue wig. Frida shrugged her shoulders, uninterested by him and the question. "I have no opinion on it."

"Hm, well, do you think I should grow my hair out?" He asked. Frida shrugged her shoulders again and gave him a cold look. "I don't care." He quickly backed off.

Evie would add, "I think you'd look good with any hair." Chad didn't pay much attention to her and said thanks before moving closer to his friends.

While everyone chatted, y/n discreetly inched closer to Carlos. She took in the wig he wore for a moment before turning her eyes away from him. "That wig looks bad on you." She bluntly stated. He gasped and spoke with a quiver. "I thought it looked good on me."

Carlos watched her tense her shoulders from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, I just—" He quickly cut her off. He felt a little bad for making her worry, but only a little. "I'm kidding. That [random color] wig doesn't look good on you, either."

Her lips quirked up into a small smile. "I don't mind it looking bad, but it's a bit uncomfortable, isn't it?" He only hummed in agreement.

Ben clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. With all eyes on him, he went over a few things. They all stay close to each other, no wandering off. There should be no unnecessary conversations with strangers. When they get into town, they'll be divided into two groups, boys and girls.

"Today we are different people." Ben said.

Noble To The Core Masterlist

I just wanted to get something out before my birthday and get something out. Also sorry for the Ben focused chapter and lack of y/n. I enjoy stuff that doesn't focus on the main cast and fleshing out. As always, I have a vague idea for what I'll write, but I'd like to know what character/characters you would like y/n interact more with. Maybe I'll write it in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and here's a quick doodle I made in an hour.

Taglist: @nobl3sse @remiechu

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter Five] Tea [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: I apologize in advance for the short chapter, but it was necessary. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): female reader, Bi-Han being Bi-Han, arranged marriage au, bonding over tea, revelation, mixed emotions, a tad bit of intimacy, teasing, slight slow burn.

Tag List: @genesiswrld, @cherryblossomly, @dilf-destroyer-04, @louis2gobrrn, @umbransister

No Minors Allowed!!

It is no cinch to those new to the harsh weather of Arctika, but long after sunset, the group reaches the temple, mostly unharmed. You are given no time to take in the icy scenery before you are patched up and then escorted to a warm but spacious room of your own with nothing in it but a bed, a vanity, and a closet. With most of your things lost to the snow - Bi-Han had allowed you to carry what you were able to - you have nothing much to fill the room with; a pair of warm clothes and some minor necessities are all you have to your name. 

This inevitable issue, however, will have to wait till tomorrow. You are too exhausted. A night robe is fetched for you, then once you are dressed, you crawl into bed and close your eyes.

You do not even remember falling asleep until the sound of knocking abruptly wakes you. 

Is it already dawn? You can not tell. 

Reluctantly, you crawl out of bed, groaning as your muscles hurt from the excursion of the previous day. The burn reminds you of the morning after a training session with your master. You trudge over to the door and open it, greeted by a woman with short pewter hair. Her eyes, a shade of arctic blue, gauge you. 

“Apologies for waking you, Madam,” she states. “But Master Bi-Han insisted that I do so.”

You raise a curious brow.

“Am I needed for something?”

“No, but he did mention that your things were lost. I can be of service,” she answers.

You understand. That is…kind of him, you suppose. 

“Give me a moment to redress - and possibly wake up - then we can talk.”

She nods and waits outside as you dress in one of the two outfits you hauled up the mountain. Once your unkempt hair is combed, you open the door and allow her inside.

“You did lose nearly everything,” she points out, taking a look around. 

“There were luckily no irreplaceable things aboard,” you state. 

She hums.

“Perhaps some of my clothes will fit you. If not then one of the others might have some. Trips to the nearby town are seldom.”

“Are there many women in the Lin Kuei?” You ask, raising a brow. 

The pewter-haired woman nods. 

“Aside from myself, I'm Frost, by the way. There is Cyrax and a handful of grunts.” She pauses a moment, turning toward you with a grin. “And now you, the Grandmaster’s wife.”

You frown and offer her your name. 

“I've heard about you…and your magic. Some of the grunts were talking about it,” Frost mentions. 

You have no doubt. The majority of them witnessed it firsthand, some even saw it twice. You cross your arms, feeling a bit uneasy in the spotlight. It is as expected though, you are new here, in addition to being married to Bi-Han.   

“Are you also able to do magic?”

Frost grins and raises her hand. From her mid-arm and up freezes over. You widen your eyes.

“You can do ice magic? Like Bi-Han.”

“Impressed? Master and I are descendants of the Cryomancers, a race from Edenia,” Frost states with pride.

You had never heard of Edenia before. Were there more realms out there besides Earthrealm and Outworld? And what of Kuai Liang or Tomas? Their powers are not ice-based. 

There is still much I do not know.

You hum. 

“Do the Lin Kuei keep scrolls? I would like to learn what I can about them.”

“That is a service I can not help you with,” Frost admits. “You would have to ask Master Bi-Han.”

You understand. Every clan has its secrets. Locked away, however, you do not know if you will ever see Bi-Han to ask him. This room is a clear sign he means to distance himself from you. But you do not want to be locked away like some damsel from a fantasy novel.  

“Can you show me around?” You ask with hope. You want to at least familiarize yourself with your new home. 

Frost grins. 

“That I can do.”

You are grateful.

For the next half hour, Frost shows you the temple. Aside from the storehouse, which contains the various types of weapons used by the Lin Kuei, and the training hall, you are most impressed by the shared bathhouse, built around a natural hot spring.

You were not expecting your new home to be so likable. 

Despite having to share a room, each of the fighters had a comfortable place to rest; Frost took you to her chamber to give you essentials that she could spare or no longer needed. The kitchen and spacious dining area were the final rooms she showed you before taking you back to your bedchamber. 

“If you need me, I am usually in the training hall or my room,” she mentions. 

You nod, thanking her again.

“I'll see you around, Madam,” Frost says with a wave. 

I don't think I will ever get used to that.

Putting away your new things, you decide to venture into the temple on your own. One thing Frost made clear was that the Lin Kuei took care of themselves. With makeup on, you then saunter to the kitchen for a light snack and a cup of tea. 

It takes you a few minutes to navigate the many cupboards but upon finding the electric kettle, you put some water on the stove to boil. As you are waiting, deciding on what to make, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

A conversation pauses mid-sentence as one or both of the brothers notice you. Kuai Liang immediately bows, followed by Tomas, much to your dismay. 

“Please, that isn't necessary. We are in-laws now,” you mention. 

“If you insist, Madam,” Tomas says in agreement. 

Kuai Liang nods, then saunters over to the cupboard, rummaging through it. 

“Would you both like some tea?” You ask. 

“If you are offering,” Kuai Liang answers. “I will fetch the bean cakes then.”

You softly smile. 

The brothers sit at a low table in the seating area as the water boils. You, in the meantime, place tea leaves in 3 cups, bringing them and the kettle over to the table.

“I’ll get that for you,” Tomas offers. 

You deny him the chance. 

“Please, allow me.” You pour the water into the cups. “If the wedding had been traditional, I would have had to serve tea to my in-laws. It feels like the least I can do.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated,” Kuai Liang states.

You are glad he thinks so. Sitting at the table with them you eat a bean cake as your tea steeps. 

“We did not have the chance to see, but did the ceremony fare well?” Tomas asks. 

“It was…nice,” you admit. And sudden. 

You honestly do not remember much about that day. Other than the apprehension.

“Steel yourself.” 

Your face heats up. It was Bi-Han’s words that eased you that day. It is ironic. 

“I wish I had seen our brother in his wedding attire,” Tomas mentions with a grin. “I imagine he scowled the entire ceremony.”

“Tomas,” Kuai Liang chides. 

You can tell that he does not mean it. There is a smile on his face. 

“Does he express no other emotion?”

Tomas laughs. 

“As Grandmaster, brother has much on his mind,” Kuai Liang points out. 

You imagine so. 

“A wife certainly does not add comfort.” 

“You are more than a wife,” Kuai Liang mentions. “He expressed this himself.”

Your face heats up. It is because of your magic, nothing more. Lifting the cup to your lips, you take a sip. If he considers you more, then why does he distance himself from you?

“Where is Bi-Han this morning?”

“With the recruits,” Tomas answers. 

You hum. So, he will be busy for most of the day. He might even miss lunch or dinner. It's your job as a wife to attend to him, is it not?

“What sort of food should I make for dinner?” 

“Rice is always a good choice and seasonal vegetables,” Tomas points out. 

Kuai Liang scolds him again, then covers his grin with the teacup. “And Poultry for muscle building.”

You laugh. It seems as though they are both eager. 

A sudden icy chill makes you shiver, despite the warmth from your teacup. Kuai Liang seems to notice something you do not. Following his gaze, you frown as you notice Bi-Han standing in the doorway. 

Is the sudden chill coming from him? 

“Brother,” Kuai Liang utters, greeting him.

“Your attention should be on the recruits,” Bi-Han points out. 

Without a word, the two brothers stand; Tomas thanks for the tea, and then the two of them leave. You sigh, rather liking their company. To avoid an awkward moment, you stand and walk over to the cabinet for another cup. 

“Would you like some tea? The water in the kettle should still be hot.”

Bi-Han hums and takes a seat at the table. You serve him and then continue to enjoy your tea. 

An awkward silence soon settles in, and you consider returning to your room without so much as a word, but a part of you does not want to leave things this way. This marriage is going to be unpleasant should you decide to ignore him at every turn. 

Why can't he be the one to start a conversation though? Is he afraid of me? 

You can not control the smile that pulls at your lips. 

“Do you frequently think of plunging people into your portals?” Bi-Han asks. 

You snort, sitting down your cup.

“Only those who irritate me.” 

Bi-Han raises a brow and looks at you. 

“Is that said in jest?”

“Perhaps,” you state. “If it gives you solace, I don't think you are irritating…just aloof.”

You can tell by the way his brows knit that he wants you to elaborate, but you do not wish to. 

“Your brothers claimed that you were busy with the recruits. How are they fairing?”

“This conversation is not over,” Bi-Han states with a sigh. He takes a drink and then sets down his cup. “They show purpose. But to learn our ways, it will require time; time we have too much of these days.”  

That is a fair assessment, though you wonder what he means by his last statement. He seems almost irritated. You hum, considering if you should ask him now about the history of the Lin Kuei. In the end, you decide against it.

Another time. 

Sliding his cup out, you take this action as a sign that Bi-Han wants more tea. You take his cup to the kitchen counter to prepare it, then you return to the table and fill it with hot water. As you attempt to return to your seat, Bi-Han reaches out and grabs your arm, halting you.

“Your grip is harsh,” you point out.

“Sit,” he orders, loosening his hold on you a bit. 

You do so, raising a curious brow.  

Bi-Han lifts his other hand and runs his thumb across your bottom lip, then examines the smear of lipstick across his skin. Your heart races. It felt nice. 

“There is no reason to wear this for me.”

An embarrassed heat spreads across your face. While it is true that you started dolling up for him, hearing him point this out makes you feel uncomfortable. 

“And if I chose to wear it because it makes me feel nice?” 

Bi-Han knits his brows. 

“Does it?”

You frown, choosing not to answer.

“There is no reason for you to wear that red jewelry bag either. We are not in the company–”

“Be quiet,” Bi-Han orders. You do so, taken off guard. “I bootlick no one. My decision to wear it is my own.”

But why? You do not know what to say to this. A strange sentiment overcomes you; fondness. Surely, he does not think more of this marriage than he lets on. 

“Forgive me. I had assumed that given our standing, you were wearing it for a public image.”

Bi-Han releases your arm. 

“I do not seek a public image; I seek combatants. This union is no more than a formality…but I admit you are more than I bargained for.”

Kuai Liang spoke the truth. He thinks of you as more of a warrior than a wife. 

“I have given it much thought, and as of tomorrow, you will train as Lin Kuei.”

Is he serious? Given your ability, you do not blame him for wanting to utilize it. So, why do you feel a bit disappointed? Is this not what you want? To be seen as more than a title.  

You sigh. 

“I understand.”

You suppose this alternative is better than being closed off in a room for the rest of your life. Is marriage even necessary now?

Resting your fingers on your bottom lip, you tighten your jaw. The intimacy of his touch lingers. Why did Bi-Han do that? Touch you in such a way. It irritates you, and not because he smeared your lipstick. Because for a moment you longed for more. 

No…just no. 

[laurent--stpierre]

LET'S ALL STOP ATTENDING THE AWARDS [2 of 2]:

Like seriously guys, let's just stop okay. Part one will be posted tomorrow.   Date: March 22nd, 2024. Warnings: None.

The basin was stained with blood, despite the steady stream of water.

No matter how much the Frenchman scrubbed, he couldn't wash it from his hands. Crimson seemed to creep into every line of his skin; stubborn and fucking vile, just like the animal it belonged to. Bloodshot blue eyes closed for a moment. A damp cloth met a nasty cut above his left eyebrow, but whilst the hand that held it was gentle in its approach, he could also feel it shaking.

"Hey, stop—" The man's words were soft instead of condemning as he turned slightly to face the woman beside him, reaching up to take her wrist. "Don't worry about me for a second. Let's get you cleaned up."

It was hard for him to tell if the words had even registered.

Laurent took the same cloth, flipping it to find a clean edge, and ran it once again under the lukewarm water. Though her only real injury beyond the tell-tale marks around her neck seemed to be a bleeding nose, her face was a harrowing picture. Stunned was a word, but it still seemed to come up short. The look in her eyes made him wonder if she was even present in the moment at all.

"Lara, look at me." It was sterner this time, and that seemed to work.

Because she did.

"You're okay..."

But somebody else wasn't, and that was likely a big part of the problem.

This time, it was him reaching out for her. Laurent tilted her head up slightly, looking for better light to see what he was fucking doing, and she quite clearly didn't have it in her to protest even if she did flinch. That was enough to give him pause. That for a moment, it seemed she thought he'd hurt her... The bleeding had stopped, but the mess on her face, and worse, the Dior, made it very clear she wasn't okay. Even if she didn't bruise, people would know something had happened.

Neither of them realised that was about to be the least of their worries.

It hadn't dawned on him she was crying until now. Silent, empty, but she was definitely fucking crying. Guilt twisted at his gut as he reached his other hand to brush away a tear with haste enough to say I didn't see anything. The hand remained against her skin—a barrier for her pride if it happened again—and he quickly got to work at cleaning up the blood drying around her mouth and nose.

"Is there something you—" But before he could finish, his attention was taken by the phone on the counter top coming to life. Not his, but hers.

At first he'd assumed it was somebody calling to see where she was.

Until he realised it wasn't.

'Not now,' he thought to himself, grimacing.

As she looked down, it was the first time the Rutherford's attention seemed to be anywhere but off into the distance. And that's where her eyes would stay, focused, attention unwavering, until the horrific video that'd been forced upon them all would come to an end. The two stood in silence. Even his hand had recoiled at some point; an unconscious movement on his part. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

They both understood what this would mean.

What the night was about to descend into.

And just like that, whatever part of her had put up a barrier of shock crumbled.

"Who?"

It was hard to tell whether her voice was strained from almost being choked to death fifteen minutes prior, or because she was fighting so hard against the masses of emotions she was being forced to come to terms with tonight. Both hurt him.

"A Russian," he answered honestly, even though he knew he shouldn't have.

The words seemed to trigger something in her, and even though Laurent knew there was no love lost between Lara and the Vorshevskys, she was overcome once more with tears. Only this time, she didn't have the control to keep them quiet. So few people had seen her this way, he knew. So few people understood what it was to witness a woman who spent every day trying to convince the world she wasn't, vulnerable. And suddenly, he was back in a hotel room...

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" She choked out, her voice both dejected and subtly angry in a way only she could manage. "When is this going to stop? When is enough going to be enough? When are you going to realise this solves nothing?"

"Lara—"

"You're so fucking stupid. This cycle of violence has been going on for decades and causes nothing but pain. There's no resolution. Nothing gained. It's bad for business. What do you think this achieves except mending your fucking egos?"

"I had nothing to do with—"

"Are you really that delicate? Is Oliver?"

Laurent didn't have any fight in him, because he knew she wasn't wrong. But Lara seemed to have plenty. The tears were streaming, her body was shaking...

Then she shoved him.

Laurent stood in silence. Took it because it was deserved.

He waited for her to walk out, and yet...

It was hard to tell which one of them moved first. Maybe it was as simple as falling back into old habits, but the next thing he knew, his arms were wrapped around her; painful, given the state he was in, but not nearly enough for him to even consider letting go. Her head was buried in his shoulder, and she was breaking down. The whole night he'd wondered. How much seeing Amir must have hurt, how much seeing her name up on that screen for so many unforgivable awards must've chipped away, and now the two horrific scenes she had just witnessed in quick succession.

Even she could only take so much.

He could feel the Rutherford's hand clawing at his back, desperate to find purchase in his suit jacket as she clung to him as desperately as though she feared she might fall down otherwise. And he held her. Let his hand rub at her lower back in an attempt to calm. Laurent's eyes closed, mostly because hearing it was gutting enough without seeing her pain, too. And maybe he'd have apologised if he'd thought it'd matter.

"You need to call Henry," he said gently, his head pulling away from hers slightly. "You need him to get you out of here before this goes south."

Lara said nothing.

"Please."

[mystalwartheart]

name. Jill Valentine

nickname(s). Jillybean, JV, Val, Regina, The Master of Unlocking

title. Branch Captain, Special Tactics and Rescue Service Los Angeles-Pacific and Senior Field Agent, Bioterrorism Task Force

P E R S O N A L .

morality. lawful/ neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

religious belief. Private, like a lot of Jill's personal life. She is either mixed or part of a diaspora though, so her spiritual beliefs likely reflect that blending of cultures.

sins. lust  / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride /envy/ wrath

virtues. chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience/ justice

primary goals in life. To be the best person she can for the people in her life, and to "protect and serve" where possible. She hopes to play some small part in building a better world for the Year 2000 and beyond.

languages known. English, Tahitian, German (fluent), Korean, Spanish, Dutch (some). Do please note her mun is not fluent in all these languages XD

quirks. - She's a young woman from Los Angeles. It's the 1980s. Do the math XD If you see this side of her, it means she trusts and feels comfortable around you.

savvies. - Physical strength, agility, martial arts, military tactics, operational strategy, criminology, leadership, navigation, maritime and civil engineering, stealth, the ability to sustain deep cover, lockpicking, explosive ordinance disposal, combat diving, classical piano, surfing, skateboarding, snowboarding, cooking, singing

P H Y S I C A L .

build. slender/ fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese / other

height. 172 cm (5 ft 8 in)

weight. 56 kg (123 lb)

scars/birthmarks. None to speak of.

abilities/powers. - Natural immunity to mutagenic viral strains such as the Clay Progenitor Virus and its descendants.

F A V O U R I T E S .

favourite food. Honestly? Probably hamburgers: They're fast, compact and filling. Hinano is right up the street from her, and In-n-Out is all over the city.

favourite drink. Smoothies!

topping. Your basic pepperoni.

favourite colour. Blue

favourite music genre. You'll most likely catch her listening to pop, but Jill is an ex-rock groupie from LA and her sis is in a punk/chamber pop revival band. She has harder stuff in her library, and don't forget this is also the era where there's a lot of overlap between those genres.

favourite book genre. Literary fiction

favourite movie genre. Anything lighthearted or thought-provoking. Jill doesn't like being reminded of work off the clock, so nothing super dramatic or angsty.

favourite season. Summer

favourite curse word. "Damn" or "Shit"

favourite scent. Giorgio Beverly Hills

F U N S T U F F .

bottom or top. Top as a general rule, unless you're really special to her.

loud burper or soft burper. Uh, you won't hear anything because that's uncouth and not ladylike??

sings in the shower. yes /no

likes bad puns. yes / no - More like tolerates. You'll get an exasperated groan, but she'll still probably smile at least a little.

their opinion on the mun. "She cares a lot, is very loyal and dedicated but she works too much. She needs to take care of herself and rest more. We're alike in that way."

Tagged by @red-man-of-mustache

Tagging: Anyone who wants to!

[eleganttragedybluebird]

Jealous!Jealous!Jealous girl!

Jealous! Toxic! Yn x Kamisato Ayato

No proofread :(

Summary: You love Ayato so much. Feeling so much anger is better than not feeling anything when the man you treasure so much lie to you right?

Content warnings : yn is very very very toxic. Self harm. (You hurt yourself to guilt trip ayato) . Violence, you get so angry you littraly want to kill Ayato. This relationship is really toxic, if you encounter something similar please leave immediately.[Please do tell me if i missed anything]

Wordcount: 1.05k

How dare you how dare you how dare you! After everything we’ve been through together. I can feel my palms bleeding from bawling my fist and my long nails pressing hard into my skin. My nude pink lipstick, staining my teeth from biting my lip so hard. I called you so I could pass you your lunch and yet I see you happily chatting with your ex? You told me you lost contact with your past “friends”. YOU TOLD ME YOU TOLD ME.

I take a deep breath, feeling that my lungs are about to collapse from sheer anger. And I go up to you, the short look of fear does not escape my sight. “Hey sweets, where were you I was looking all over for you,” I said, making sure my smile was relaxed. No matter how angry I am, I can't make a scene here, if I show that my facial muscles are so tense, and yet I'm smiling so brightly, both can tell I'm lying. “Ah... YN this is redacted, and this is my girlfriend YN” “Aww! You're so pretty! I want to coddle you up” whatever that woman's name was “No no..” I said looking down and using my hair to cover my face, emanating bashfulness when the rouge on my cheeks isn't from bashfulness, but from sheer rage.”I should be going now, there is a lot of housework yet to be done. Goodbye now, hopes of meeting you again” I say softly holding her hands, “An angel” I hear her say as I leave without glancing at Ayato. He knows he’s fucked up.

I’ve worked so hard to be with you. I've lost weight, I started dressing up, and learned how to cook and you do this shit to me? All the praise you've accumulated up until now is because of me! Men envy you because you have a cute girlfriend that's loyal, cooks for you, and is there for you in any need. And it's still not enough for you Kamisato Ayato? Do you think I don’t hear those snarky remarks about you and your ex to your friends? But seeing you being so friendly with her makes my blood boil. I feel so resentful every time I see your face. Why couldn't I be your first? You had to be such a slut and be with another woman. And the worst part, you lied about it. YOU LIED YOU LIED YOU LIED. The anger I feel is not towards that woman but towards you. I’d gutting you would appease my anger than gutting her. I believe it's a pride thing, I’d be caught dead before you see me jealous of another woman.

I hear the door open quietly, you calling me all so sweetly assuming if he does not bring the up topic I won't get angry. “Whos that lady? I've never met her before.” I see you gulp almost cartoonishly. This shits funny to you? “A friend, a long time one” I hum in response. “Dinner will be done soon. Rest up honey” flashing you a calm serene smile. I see the look of relief slowly creep up your face, but not for fucking long.

“Sweets! Dinner is ready” I call out to you, I see you descend the stairs. I hate you, I hate you oh I hate you. But oh… cara mia. Look at you, I would die for you, I would kill for you, either way, what a bliss. How many women would share this devotion towards you? None I tell you, none. I say in my head as I set the table. We both sit down, then I say “Why did you lie?’ “huh?” “Have you gon deaf? I said why did you lie?” “I have no idea what you're talking about sweets” I can see the fear in your eyes, but I don't give a shit. I thrash the dining table “ WHY DID YOU LIE WHY DID YOU LIE WHY DID YOU LIE WHY DID YOU LIE! YOU FUCKING LIAR! I KNOW DAAM WELL SHE’S YOUR FUCKING LYING TO ME KAMISATO AYATO.”  I began pulling my hair and I see you approaching me and grabbing my shoulders “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I lied. I just wanted to make you happy…” “Oh, you're sorry? YOUR SORRY YOUR SORRY YOUR SORRY! EAT SHIT. AM I A JOKE TO YOU? AM I A FUCKING JOKE?” “No, please! I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please! You can hit me, just stop hurting yourself!” “SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU LIAR YOU LIAR! I DESPISE YOU! I ABSOLUTELY LOATHE YOU! I WISH WE NEVER MET” you try to remove my arms so I purposely grab your wrist, letting the blood from my nail-cut palms stain your white sleeves. You are terrified, and you blame yourself this is all your fault. You made me lose my mind. “I SHOULD JUST DROP FUCKING DEAD RIGHT NOW! ID RATHER BE DEAD THAN LOOK AT YOU, YOU DISGUST ME YOU DISGUST ME” now, that really broke him. No fight has hurt him that much before. He loves you so much, and he's the reason why you want to kill yourself? He's always dreamt about having a family with you and he never imagined, even if he wants to be with you so much, he wants you alive even more. “It's over, I hurt you too much. You can never forgive me.” Break up? HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA. Ayato you dumb cunt, breaking up means that I can't hurt you the way you hurt me. “No.” “N…no?” “No, I hate you so much now. But I’ll forgive you eventually” i say smiling as if my lipstick isn't smudging, my palms bloody, and my hair a mess. I open my arms signaling to be embraced by my lover. You hug me gently as if you’ll crush me if you hug any tighter. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm the worst, ill never lie to you again. I’ll cut them off if it makes you happy.” I sigh as my hands run through your hair. “Oh, I’ll be happy alright, happy that one day I will hurt you as much as you’ve hurt me now. Get ready for it, I hope it rings every time im with someone. I hope you're worried every second of the day that I might cheat on you to make it even between us, and even after that. I will never let you go.”

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb: “If you grew up reading Jane Austen and Agatha Christie (or are a fan of Bridgerton and Knives Out), you will adore A Most Agreeable Murder.”—Kate Stayman-London, bestselling author of One to Watch Feisty, passionate Beatrice Steele has never fit the definition of a true lady, according to the strict code of conduct that reigns in Swampshire, her small English township—she is terrible at needlework, has absolutely no musical ability, and her artwork is so bad it frightens people. Nevertheless, she lives a perfectly agreeable life with her marriage-scheming mother, prankster father, and two younger sisters— beautiful Louisa and forgettable Mary. But she harbors a dark secret: She is obsessed with the true crime cases she reads about in the newspaper. If anyone in her etiquette-obsessed community found out, she’d be deemed a morbid creep and banished from respectable society forever. For her family’s sake, she’s vowed to put her obsession behind her. Because eligible bachelor Edmund Croaksworth is set to attend the approaching autumnal ball, and the Steele family hopes that Louisa will steal his heart. If not, Martin Grub, their disgusting cousin, will inherit the family’s estate, and they will be ruined or, even worse, forced to move to France. So Beatrice must be on her best behavior . . . which is made difficult when a disgraced yet alluring detective inexplicably shows up to the ball. Beatrice is just holding things together when Croaksworth drops dead in the middle of a minuet. As a storm rages outside, the evening descends into a frenzy of panic, fear, and betrayal as it becomes clear they are trapped with a killer. Contending with competitive card games, tricky tonics, and Swampshire’s infamous squelch holes, Beatrice must rise above decorum and decency to pursue justice and her own desires—before anyone else is murdered.

Review:

Jane Austen meets Agatha Christie in this story about a young lady who loves solving murder mysteries who finds herself facing a real murder mystery. Beatrice Steele lives in a little township called Swampshire, where there are strict codes that women are meant to follow, and one of them is that women should definitely not spend all day reading about murder mysteries and sending off letters to detectives about their opinions on their cases. Beatrice adores Inspector Huxley, and dislikes his ex partner detective Drake. When she is on her way with her family to e party where a new and wealthy man is in town to possible get a bride, they run into the grumpy and rude detective Drake. Drake and Beatrice instantly dislike one another and Beatrice’s prejudice is clear ( reminding anyone of Pride and Prejudice?). Beatrice is the eldest daughter and is expected to marry but her younger sister Louisa is the beauty that everyone falls for and their youngest sister Mary is the quiet one no one notices, while their father is a prankster and their mother is a hell bent on getting them married and settled ( SOUNDING A LOT LIKE PRIDE AND PREJUDICE???) theres even a woman that Beatrice dislikes named Caroline, and a huge flirt named Frank who is known for being a playboy.... who just happens to have his eye on a certain younger sister ( SERIOUSLY). Beatrice and Drake and co all end up at the party and then dead bodies start dropping and now Beatrice and Drake have to find a way to work together to solve this locked party murder mystery. Unfortunately this one missed the mark for me in so many ways, I was so looking forward to a fun Jane Austen/ Agatha Christie mystery ( I adore both of those authors so much) and this one just felt so meh compared to what it was inspired by. Beatrice was insufferable, I don’t know whether its because she is written as so much younger and feels like a teen rather than an older young lady, and honestly the mystery itself was lackluster. I just found myself happy to have made it to the end of the book despite not having a fun time at all. Overall, if you like mysteries with a bit of Jane Austen, give it a try, maybe it’ll work out better for you than it did for me.

*Thanks Netgalley and Random House Publishing Group - Random House, Random House for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[alrissamariam]

"I don't feel so good."

I think I’m getting bad again, maybe worse this time. And I’m not sure anyone can help me even if they wanted to.

I have lived and I have learned, I have lost and I have loved.

My mind has gone blank for I have been feeling everything and nothing at the same time. My heart is heavy with self-doubt and discouragement. My shoulders sag with undetermined decisions and heavy burdens. My feet are heavy with balls of steel chained around my ankles.

I don’t feel so good.

The nightmares have become too daunting that I seek comfort in the night skies by the side of the road. The only way to silence my mind would be a dangerous run outside the safety of home at midnight while the rain pelts my skin and stings my cuts. 

I feel horrible for the people around me, because I have been told that being friends with somebody who is drained drains you. Am I draining you guys too? If so, shall I move away? Or will you help to extend your hand that you know I’ll struggle for eternity trying to reach?

My appetite has gone from my body and my skin has dropped a shade on my face, the bags under my eyes are sandbags that continue to descend, my throat is closed up most of the time and my body is not here.

I feel disgusted with myself when I stare at the food I could barely finish, because all I wanted to do was push it off the table and watch the plate shatter on the floor so I could cut my crevices bigger to allow my hands in so I could fix myself.

There’s ringing in my ear, my heart is clashing against my ribcage, my eyes are drooping with fatigue, my skin is cold, my movements are sluggish. Every breath I try to suck in is choked, like there happens to be a ball of self-sabotage lodged into my throat.

I remember unlocking the door so slowly as I tried to keep myself upright and the moment I stepped into the quiet and dark house, I shut the door and my bag fell from my shoulder. My head was spinning, my breaths shallow and the water was up to my throat. 

One step forward to try to at least get to the bean bag, and before I knew it, my head had fallen before my body as it crumbled to the marble floor with a thud–yet there was silence. 

Nobody had heard anything and nobody had come down. 

I couldn’t utter a single sound.

I couldn’t reach for my phone.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the floor like that, but the bump on the back of my head was enough to tell me that I probably hit my head hard enough to be knocked out for a bit. The strain in my ribs was a clear indication that my terrifying past would probably come back, and moments of standing in the corner to eavesdrop on what the doctor was saying to my dad came back to me.

How do I ask for help?

I felt like my voice was taken from me, my freedom strangled and my privacy breached. At twenty-one, I feel as dead as I never have. I feel like a walking zombie instead of a fucking human.

I hated blacking out, unsure if by the time I come to, which would hurt first between my head, side or entirety? How do I eat when all I want is to throw it all back up? How does one believe they’re allowed to ask for help when all they’ve been told is that they’re a burden?

Beban. That’s what I am.

A burden to others.

I don’t feel so good.

I feel sick, my stomach churning, heart failing and soul disappearing. I wanted to be allowed room to make my own decisions and mistakes, and still be cared for as one should be. 

I feel clingy, starved of physical touch and affection that I crave so much from a woman who would always put man before her children when her children should always come first.

I feel disgusted, not with anyone but myself for the way I’ve treated myself and the things my mind haunts me with, screaming at me that I should do it sooner rather than later because who the fuck would miss me?

I feel empty–gone are the pieces of myself that I worshipped and took pride in, replaced with self-loathe and mockery. My mouth has been sewn shut and my heart is banging on my chest to be expressed, to be let out and it begged for help.

But my mind knew better. It was a constant battle with my heart about who gets to make the decision. Do we let the heart win and beg for help, or do we let the mind stay in control and keep our mouth shut so we don’t burden others?

I’m not so sure anymore.

But all I know is; I don’t feel so good.

[thisisasupergoodidea]

my personal writing project masterlist 2024

finally doing the thing i said i would do in january... at the end of february

here are all of my current works in progress for original stories (AKA not including fanfics), most of which i would consider 'active' in some way or another. ive labeled them by their project names since i havent locked in official names for any of them yet

the cyan arrows and lines denote the relationships between projects (basically, there are two major worlds and then three unconnected stories with their own settings) which ill go into detail about as i summarize each project

but this post is about to get pretty damn long so... here is the complimentary 'read more' cut

👇

the projects MAGIC, ANGER, and ROOM all take place in the same world. the events of MAGIC and ANGER occur simultaneously, while the events of ROOM occur centuries in the future

MAGIC: Rogelio lives a perfectly normal, happy, peaceful life as the protector of the tiny town of Kaluss. Well, peaceful except for that bitter bastard of a mage who's set up a lair nearby and is very determined to make all of their lives hell. Just what is that guy's deal? When an incident with a necklace- sorry, an amulet- proves to be Rogelio's tipping point, he makes it his personal mission to pry and poke and disrupt the guy's plans as often as he can. But as he learns more about magic and preoccupies himself with the source of the mage's issues, he also starts to feel like he's drifting further away from the place he calls home, distancing himself from the people he protects- people who consider magic a danger and a curse. So is he really doing what's best for Kaluss, or is he satiating his own hunger for novelty? ...If only that damn magic guy would just agree to cooperate, Rogelio would be having a much easier time restoring peace in town AND peace of mind. If only.

MAGIC will be two to three books long, OR one beefy book depending on whether or not i can learn to be more concise 🫠. the events of ANGER begin to unfold in what will potentially be the second MAGIC book, just in a different place. but the characters from both stories will definitely cross paths in a significant way

ANGER: A very long time ago, a woman who'd faced cruelty and hardship her entire life died giving birth to twins, the products of wretched experimentation. She used her final breath not to name them but to declare them her curse upon the world. The twins grew up as cold and cruel as the land around them, raised by the same tyrants that kept their mother poor and sickly, until the day came that one was slain by the other in a deadly game. While the name of the victim has since been stricken from history, the name of the victor shall forever be remembered, for she is Aniguma the First Cursed. All lived in fear and awe of her bloodlust; her most devoted following called themselves Anguians, and with their loyalty she razed her hometown so thoroughly that it remains to this day a prideful trophy of her conquest, rebuilt in her name: Angur. She would eventually give birth to two children; one would eventually die at the hands of the other. Thusly would this pattern of betrayal and death continue to curse their bloodline, salting the land with cruelty and hardship for generations. This story follows Aniguma's present day descendants, Zennet and Axtrom, who had the unusual fortune of being separated at a young age and raised in much less tumultuous circumstances. But despite their estrangement, both of them have unwittingly dedicated their lives to the same cause: to be the last of their cursed lineage. They must plan their every move meticulously as they fight against the very blood in their veins… or succumb to their destiny.

then, centuries after the events of MAGIC and ANGER conclude, as the advancements of their world start to resemble our modern one, project ROOM unfolds. besides perhaps a vague reference or two, the events of ROOM are entirely unrelated to the other projects that take place in this world. in other words, its not a sequel, its just its own story occurring much later on.

ROOM: The leatherworker Hwaith has taken up part-time adventuring in the hopes of beating his sworn enemy Kolroasa- an ambitious student of magic- at his own game: recovering great and powerful artifacts of long dead mages. The prestige that comes with finding these rare lost items is certainly alluring; what compels them even more is the dread of losing even one of these deeply valuable artifacts to the other. So Hwaith and Kolroasa each gather a small team to accompany them to a location rumored to be the final resting place of an especially secretive mage: a secluded manor nestled in the spires of an imposing, icy mountain. The two teams race to be the first to claim whatever research or technology was left behind in the final years of the infamous Ocheveyn's life. But they will soon discover that what waits for them at the heart of the manor is infinitely more terrifying than the threat they pose to each other.

with that, we exit this world and enter the next one. the magic that governs the next world is less ambitious, but more... colorful

👇

the projects STONE, BELL, and RIFT all take place in this world. STONE is technically a prequel to BELL, though it precedes BELL by a few centuries, acts as a standalone, and only shares one (pretty significant) character. the events of BELL and RIFT occur simultaneously, though im undecided if any (except one) of the characters in RIFT will ever interact with the characters in BELL

STONE: Having uprooted his old life to start fresh in a place where his past doesn't matter, Rin arrives at a remote and desolate quarry operation with nothing but the bag on his back and the hat on his head, in search of work as a tailor. He would be the last to ever arrive. As he slowly establishes himself among the dejected and isolated people of the quarry town, he finds renewed joy in getting to know them all, becoming invested in their well-being, their pasts, and then… their legacies. A resident's sudden passing motivates Rin to start collecting any note, journal entry, memo and scrap paper that the other residents are willing to give him. He painstakingly pieces together the entries in chronological order to serve as an account (titled The Sorrowstone Account) of their individual experiences. And, all the while, the whole town becomes increasingly aware of something otherworldly lurking just beyond the desert horizon. Rin pushes himself harder and harder to finish what will be the only proof that they existed- and that it meant something- in the face of encroaching inevitability.

a few centuries later, long after the old horrors have been forgotten and new people and cities and borders have established themselves, the events of BELL unfold

this one is going to be the most difficult one for me to summarize. its really more suited to be a tabletop campaign, or a webcomic thousands of pages long. theres too many characters and too much going on. the plot spans decades. but ill do my best. sorry in advance for it being especially messy

BELL: Four people's lives collide, bonded by witnessing two soul harvesters- only thought of as creatures of myth, of fiction, until now- locked in a destructive battle in the heart of their city. One of these four, Zochio, is accidentally injured by one of the harvesters during the fight; the wound gets corrupted, and she eventually develops powers of death herself, believing that it is her destiny to use these powers to save the world from a threat that she can now see looming in the sky far above them. With her old friend Immudya and her new acquaintances Caforleh and Vim Vedmet, and with the penitent guidance of the harvester that wounded her as well, she hatches a plot to get the attention of that looming threat. Meanwhile, as news of the harvesters reaches every corner of the country, a dormant death cult begins to make moves again, hoping to contact one of the harvesters to clarify some ancient prophecy. The children of these cultists- who have formed their own death cult against their parents' wishes- sneak out of town to find one of their elders, Ranneigl. Thus begins a series of shenanigans for them all. But since one of those kids is Immudya's little brother, this eventually introduces the main four to the death cult, and the cult to a harvester. They work together to demystify the prophecy that foretold the harvester's return, learning that this entity is not alone on this world. There are more of its kind, and even more of all other kinds as well, brought here by that thing in the sky to farm the world for life energy. This particular harvester, one of purple hue to which they give the name Kymoyef, actually shares Zochio's ambition of putting an end to the callous destruction and excessive harvesting of souls. But in order to do that, it must first amass enough energy and rally enough of its siblings to be a presence worth noticing. They spend many long years on this plan, with Zochio's group endeavoring to gain power among their people and Kymoyef gaining its own strength in numbers by any means necessary. Some of them become less and less enthused about the methods used to achieve their goals. They had vowed to save the world together, after all. How did they manage to convince themselves that making it vastly shittier was a vital step in the process?? But it's far too late to absolve themselves now, when the finish line is so close. Otherwise, there will have been no point to the decades- no, centuries of misery and death, of isolation and careful planning, of hiding in the shadow of a looming something praying that it doesn't see you until you're ready for it. Finally, after centuries, the end is almost ready to begin.

meanwhile, the events of RIFT are occuring as well, though untethered from linear time. RIFT takes place almost exclusively in a deep wound left upon the earth by a shameful manmade catastrophe that caused the land to split open and swallow the cities along the fault line. the rift remains an open maw leading to a pocket dimension where time is broken, and the cities trapped within it wallow in their stagnation

RIFT: Three lives, tragically interrupted: Wayrain, Cadmor, and Fuithrel vanish into a pocket of reality where time and space dont quite connect anymore; where the light lives mostly in your eyes and so the landscape is tinted in the color you most strongly resonate; where the only path you can take is your own and the only way to reach that elusive destination is one step at a time, or not at all. The three of them come to awareness in three separate places, their introductions to this wayward land equally as off-putting as their surroundings. But they learn to navigate through their individual journeys through trial and error- sometimes alone, sometimes with the help of fellow travelers on the arduous road. Wayrain takes well to traveling, he discovers; he's romanticized his escapism all his life and now finally gets to live it. Cadmor, needing direction and guidance and something to do with his guilt, accepts a guard role much like his previous one back on the surface. Fuithrel only wants to know she is safe, to know she can stop running, but the path calls for her again and again. She will heed it every time. Along the way, the three of them continue to cross paths whether they like it or not and will come to understand exactly how their lives intertwine- both here AND before their fall. They also encounter plenty of danger on every road: a man who seeks to crack them open and drain them of their light, a spreading corruption that consumes people like the void if they so much as touch it, and their own doubts conspiring to knock them off their stride... But perhaps the journey will set them free before the ground can swallow them up again.

like i said, BELL and RIFT do take place simultaneously but theyre also pretty much isolated incidents. lots of isolation going on across all of my projects, lol. anyway now ill talk about the three standalones

👇

the projects DEMON, TUBES, and FIRE have no attachments to each other, nor to any other project i have going on. TUBES is based on a prompt someone gave me that im slowly chipping away at, and the other two are inspired by a couple of vivid dreams i had years ago. these are still in the very early development stages because ive been focusing more on other projects, which is why my summaries for these seem more like prompts rather than plots

DEMON: Iudus Fern, a man who was already questioning the strength of his faith, has not been to church in weeks- but he invites his friend Valerissa to his home in secret to recount to her the events that have transpired during his absence. At first, he seems unsure and ashamed of himself. But with her reassurance he reveals that he had the old wounds of temptation torn open once again when he was visited by a demon late one evening. An honest-to-God demon, one that towered over him with claws and hooves and wings and an imposing... impressive... irresistible allure. He was convinced that the demon had claimed his soul that night, despite no words or bargains being exchanged as confirmation. No, that came a week later when the demon returned to make a demand of him. As Fern listened, it occured to him that this demon intended to use him to set itself free from the shackles of hell. But the process was not yet complete, and Fern found that he... didn't mind the thought of more visits from his new acquaintance. So he allowed himself the pleasure of its company again and again; meanwhile, his Sunday attendance only continued to dwindle, and people began to worry and talk. Through this act of confession to Valerissa, Fern will decide once and for all if the weight of his deeds were worth it; if the faith of a demon can make men divine; and if he has brought heaven or hell on earth upon himself for having the courage to not only face, but also love, his demons.

TUBES: Katie works a monotonous but well-paying job at a logistics facility where the only thing she does all day is sit around monitoring and keeping records of whatever comes through the pneumatic tubes at her workstation. The entire multiple story building, in fact, operates almost exclusively on a tangled, maze-like pneumatics system that looks like it was designed to piss off the most amount of people possible. Any employee she's ever talked to barely knows how it works; they're all just told to trust the system- and hey, she won't complain. Not when there's plenty of other working conditions to complain about. So every day she slogs through capsule after capsule containing everything from the mundane to the bizarre, drinks stale water from the break room's old-ass pipes, then takes the underground train back to her shitty capsule apartment where she has recurring work-related nightmares. On a day that seems the same as any other, something weird but innocuous enough passes through Katie's workstation. Mistakenly delivered to the wrong part of the building, perhaps. She still sends it on its way, thinking nothing of it. Not knowing that someone in the building will do anything to get it back. She unwillingly gets roped into tracking down whatever the hell they're looking for before it gets lost forever in the bowels of the system, stumbling into some horrific truths along the way, turning her weekend overtime into a waking nightmare beyond anything she could have dreamt up.

FIRE: A young woman, who has lost her memories and dreams only of vibrant petals swirling in orange and yellow, wanders cold and alone in the woods for some time. She begins to encounter outcasts and drifters all suffering magical curses- dubbed 'the nameless ones' by the rest of society for the thing they all have in common, their inability to recall even their own names- and realizes she is one of them in the worst possible way: One particularly dreary evening, she is taken in to a warm home by a kind old couple only for the night to end in flames, exploding forth from her own body. She's forced to flee from civilization for fear of it happening again. Thus, with no one but fellow pariahs to turn to, she sets out to understand this affliction and trace it back to its beginning in the hope of regaining who she was before it all.

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and thats everything!! thanks for your time and interest whoevers reading this, even if you just skimmed or whatever. i rarely talk about my writing outside of a vague post here or there because its hard for me to explain my thoughts, especially irl. so getting to infodump felt nice. i dont even care that it took like 14 hours 🫠

[hexarcana]

Clearly the boy is way more hurt than he looks, Olive knows what wounded pride and bruised ego look like, and she knows they can be just as painful as the physical kind, especially when you’re a kid.

The first time she saw the twins she knew who they were. They looked so much like Mason did back then- but she knew they had to be Filbrick’s kids. (How any woman could stand him long enough to have kids with him she’ll never understand.). She’d been nervous that the boys would be like he’d been back then but much to her relief both boys, especially the one in front of her, were good kids.

He isn’t looking at her but she’s looking at him sympathetically. She can’t help but think of another little boy sitting in front of her, sniffling about a scraped knee, a littler boy with a mop of messy blonde hair and freckles. It hurts to think about, so she doubles down her focus on the present. She glances around and she swipes a clean dish towel from an open drawer just behind her. She opens one of the water bottles and tips it against the towel.

Her expression hardens as he goes on about that Stonewall kid. Aggie had told her about him, and if she wasn’t sure it would lead to a life sentence in prison, she would have tracked the kid down herself and- Well. She’d go to jail.

“Young man,” She says, scooting her stool a bit closer to him. “You aren’t stupid. Get that outta your head right now.” She folds the wet towel and very gently (more gently than one would think she’d be capable of) starts cleaning the blood off his face. “That boy is the real idiot if he can’t see when a girl hates him. And if he thinks it’s a good idea to keep pesterin’ her and her friends.”

She’s quiet a moment before she goes on, “Ya know, I feel like crap that I can’t be out there to keep Aggie safe. She’s a smart girl, and you n’ me both know she can handle herself, but she’s fragile, ya know? And she’s gotta be careful, keep her little… Situation under wraps.” She gently tilts Stan’s face to one side to get a look at the bruise blooming under his eyes. “I’m really glad she’s got a guy like you out there with her. I was real scared she wouldn’t make friends out there but she found a real good one in you.” She gently touches the bridge of his nose, relieved to find that it’s still straight, not broken. She goes back into her med kit and pulls out a few single use alcohol pads for his remaining scrapes. “That Stonewall boy’s probably just jealous that Aggie likes you and wants to be around you, not him. Jealousy makes boys stupid, and I bet he’s gonna stay stupid.” She sighs, quickly cleaning off his cuts, “Trouble is when they’re stupid and also freakishly large…” She narrows her eyes, thinking. “If you’re gonna keep protecting my girl you’re gonna need an edge.” She stands, “If a fight ain’t fair, you even it out.” She goes to the stairs, “You wait here a sec, I’ll be right back.” She descends into the bunker without another word.

She’s gone less than a minute when she reappears, a rusty metal toolbox tucked under her arm. She drops it on the table and opens it, rifling through its contents until she finds what she’s looking for. She sets them down on the table- A set of brass knuckles, a bit smaller than average sized. They’d been Olives before she switched to heavy artillery. Her hands are pretty small, though. She’s sure they’ll fit the boy. “Try those on.” She instructs, “Nobody, no matter how tough the think they are is gonna be feelin’ too hot after being on the business end of these bad boys.” She sits again and starts packing up the med kit. “If those fit ya, they’re yours.” She lowers her voice. “Now, if I give ya these ya gotta promise to only use them if you REALLY feel like ya need to. As tempting as it is to go beat the tar outta this kid right this second ya gotta play it smart. Ya understand, Pines?”

She looks so serious, with only a ghost of her usual madness set her features. She sees no issue in arming a twelve year old boy with an illegal weapon.

It’s been a few times now, but Stan still hadn’t fully gotten used to the sensation of disappearing at one place and reappearing at another. The first time Aggie had told him about the waypoints, shortly after he had learnt about her powers, he had scoffed somewhat. That all vanished pretty sharply once she had shown him them. His hair still stood on end and he got all goosepimply whenever he passed through.

For now though, his head still swimming he was too punch-drunk to take too much notice. He just felt tired and humiliated and he wanted to just lie down. As grateful as he was to Aggie for finding him and mending his hands, a small part of him wished he was able to appear before her triumphant, having bested Jesse once and for all in combat.

Having gone through the waypoint, Stan sees Aggie’s house ahead of him, old lady Yearling herself coming out to greet them both. Stan had also been reticent about Aggies house once he had first seen it. It was tumbledown and ramshackle, but Stan leant that the somewhat intimidating exterior of barbed wire, ‘keep out signs’ and grates across the windows only added to the mystery and intrigue of it all. Especially with what Aggie had told him about the bunker below.

It was kinda like Old Lady Yearling herself, tough and a bit scary to the outside world, but get to know her and she wasn’t so bad.

“Hi Ms Yearling….” Stan mumbled in greeting, still unsure how to address her. When he had brought it up with Graunty Mabel, she had curtly replied that Old Lady Yearling probably would be fine with most things as long as you didn’t treat her like the rest of the townsfolk.

As he walks through to the kitchen, he gives Aggie a small smile that he hopes conveys thanks back as she disappears down into the bunker to retrieve some things.

He got up on the kitchen chair and tried not to look or feel too sorry for himself, difficult as it was.

“I feel fine…” Stan lied. “Just some cuts and bruises is all…”

He looks down at his blood stained t-shirt. God Jesse really had done a number on him. He was only a year older than him but he was much closer to Thistle’s height than his own, and he was twice as a broad as he was. That meant he was nearly impossible to fight properly. It was like trying to chop down a redwood with a butter knife.

A tear drop hits his already stained shirt. Why was he crying? He never cried. His father told him that boys shouldn’t cry. It was a sign of weakness. And he couldn’t be weak, not with people like Jesse about. He just found it so difficult to be strong is all.

“I’m- I’m fine Ms Yearling….I just wish I coulda…”

He stops and oh god here come the tears again. Why was he crying, why was he like this? Stupid WEAK Stanley. Babies cry. Are you a baby Stanley? I bet Jesse doesn’t cry. I bet Aggie would laugh at you if she saw you like this. I bet she would find Jesse more fun to be with if she saw you be a BABY like this.

He tries to at least look up at Old Lady Yearling but he finds his gaze is glued to the floor.

The words start pouring out of him suddenly, in a low, sad mumble he’s not even sure Olive can hear properly, his voice warbly with adolescent emotion.

“I’m sorry. Jesse was being a butthole. Saying how he could get Aggie to be his girlfriend like that-.” He clicks his fingers for emphasis. “Saying that she was just playing hard to get. How she’d see things his way if she just spent some time with him.” He sighs. “How I’m just a stupid kid who doesn’t know what I’m doing.”

He finally looks up at Olive.

“I don’t think I do.”

[asoulofatlantis]

would cedric have done better with a stricter father like say the father in the example above

I do not think that a strict father would have cut it for Cedric. At least not at first. What he actually needed was someone who saw his troubles, his fears and his doubts and what he wanted and needed to be to overcome all this.

Cedric has changed after his contact with TestaRossa, because that was when he finally felt powerful for the first time. Capable of doing something, of being more than just this sickly boy who always stood in his charismatic siblings shadow.

What he would have needed above all else, was a father that supported him and made him feel strong and special and capable BEFORE shit went down. Gave him a chance to shine and show his strong points to the world. Then maybe, even with the curse, Cedric might not have ended up the way he did.

However, a strict hand would have been needed indeed in CS3 and CS4, because of the fact that Eugent didn't give Cedric what he needed in the years before. However, as we all know, Eugent left EVERYTHING to Osborne at this point already, including the destiny of his sons. Not to mention that I believe that at the point we were in at the start of CS3, only Osborne could have stopped Cedric. I doubt he would have listened to his father anymore. I mean, after Eugent was shot, Cedric barely was shocked, he moved on with supporting Osborne and his plans, hardly showing any interest in his fathers wellbeing. Showing that at this point, he already stopped caring about him or anything else but Osborne and his grand plans. Meaning that at the point when Cedric would have needed a strict hand, it was already too late for his father to intervene.

And yet, and yes, I have to bring that up, Cedric was apparently longing for someone to be strict with him, otherwise he would have not accepted Shirley "supporting" him, given how she was giving shit about his title and not feeding his arrogance at all. What should have theoretically annoyed him, but it seemed he never tried to push her away, regardless of mocking nicknames, her lack of respect for him or the fact that she was giving a damn about his pride. And it is no surprise, really, given how the special episode in Hajimari showed that the harsh way, is the way to deal with him. However, I think some "stranger" was needed for that job. Neither Eugent, nor Olivert could have reigned Cedric in, as he has felt above them. Even Osborne was having a hard time controlling him, despite the fact that Cedric adored him and only wanted to please him, but I think Osborne still had too much respect for his title and pity with his situation, which also made it hard for him to be as strict as he should have been. In the end, only someone who had nothing to do with him before, could be as strict to him as he needed.

So... really the answer is that Cedric would have needed a more supportive and understanding father and then MAYBE he would have not needed a strict father when he hit puberty. But honestly... I can not see Eugent being a strict father.

Honestly, I've read on Reddit the other day that Arnor-man have a tendency to fall for strong woman who can stand their ground and I think the reason is that in a sense, they are all rather weak in one way or another (especially emotionally/lack confidence etc.) ^^' Even Olivert chose a woman who drunk him under a table, instead of a petit flower that would just have looked pretty next to him. And while we don't know who the woman was Dreichels had to choose in the end, we know for sure that the woman he WANTED to choose, was just as badass as the woman his descendants seem to choose for themselves. So its likely that he too, was emotionally speaking in some way rather weak and needed that strong woman by his side.

So if anything, if Eugent would have allowed it, maybe a strict mother would have been the solution for Cedric, as apparently our Arnor-Man lack the strength to be strict.

[cinebration]

Bewitched (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

hii, if you taking requests, you could do sherlock holmes (of enola holmes) x reader fic with a pride and prejudice quote?? thank you so much!! ♡ Quote: “You have bewitched me…body and soul.”—Requested by @folklorecavill​

I apologize for this feeling a little OOC, but I tried!

Warnings: none

Gif Source: henricavyll

Sherlock found himself on your doorstep once again, calling on you.

It wasn’t until you descended the stairs and entered the receiving room that he suddenly froze, the feelings that had driven him to your door immobilizing him. He wanted nothing more than to flee and at the same time stay to enjoy your presence. The feelings were both unusual and regular—unusual because as a man who took great pride in divorcing emotion from reason, it was irregular for him to be so arrested by feeling; regular because it only ever seemed to happen around you.

The furrow between your brows reappeared. “Mr. Holmes. How may I help you?”

Sherlock swallowed thickly, words lodged in his throat. A distant part of himself regarded his reaction with distrust bordering on horror. He was Sherlock Holmes. Speechlessness was not in his being.

The furrow between your brows deepened. The sight of it struck of a chord of distress within his chest, ratcheting up the mounting alarm he felt.

It was too much.

Words swam up his throat suddenly, and he blurted, “You have bewitched me!”

You took a step back, disconcerted by the unschooled outburst. Sherlock withdrew into himself, struggling to compose himself as he heard his own words echoing in his ears. He did not believe in superstitions, they being instruments for the uneducated masses to process that which they did not care to understand, but he had dared to say bewitched as though it were true.

It had to be, did it not? How else to explain his uncharacteristic behavior? The whirlwind of feelings buzzing beneath his skin and making him physically ill?

Moderating his voice as best he could, he repeated, the words springing to his lips and spilling over through a thick throat, “You have bewitched me…body and soul.”

Surprise transitioned by increments into disbelief, followed by cautious optimism. You glanced away demurely, pausing to gather a response.

Sherlock’s heart thudded in his ears. He tried to bat the feeling away, hating how beholden he was to your response, whatever it was, his stomach twisting.

Deliver me from this torment, he thought, pleading. What fresh hell was he being subjected to?

“You mean to say you think only of me?” you asked carefully, not meeting his gaze yet.

“Like a lesion on the brain,” he answered. The words did not strike him as anything but true.

You laughed. “A lesion on the brain, yes.”

He frowned, hesitating. He could hear Mycroft chastising him—not merely for fumbling social interactions but for even succumbing to a woman’s charms in the first place—and the ghostly sound of his brother’s voice in his skull nearly made him storm from the room, embarrassment and shame working to displace the other feelings he had. Shaken by the emotions, he struggled to remain steadfast. Pursuing killers down harrowing avenues had never instilled such trepidation within him.

“And if I told you the same?”

Sherlock glanced at you sharply, his brow furrowing. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I think of you too often to be…salubrious,” you said, a note of laughter chased by distress in your voice. “As you said, a lesion on the brain.”

Hope fluttered in his chest, making him sick even as he felt himself chasing the feeling.

“In that regard, I suppose you also have bewitched me…body and soul.”

Silence stretched in the quiet room, so complete that Sherlock was sure you could hear the thundering of his heart.

“I…I’m afraid I do not know how to proceed,” he managed to say. He had never found himself in such a predicament.

You smiled lopsidedly, then drew near him. Your hand reached out to brush his, first the back of your knuckles against his, then your fingers twining with his as he responded in kind.

“I’m not sure how,” you murmured, “but we can learn together, can’t we?”