#I would have written more but my two brain cells are done

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 741

Today was truly a rest day for me, as Saturday I attempted to do as many housekeeping chores as possible and Sunday I needed medicine to be a bit less miserable. It meant that today my brain was able to check out while all I did was eat, drink water and sleep.

At the moment I’m writing this, this has been the most coherent my brain has been all day, which is good because I want to talk about Santae again.

Why?

Because when you’re only able to rub two brain cells together for most of the day, a clickly click website game is the only thing you’re able to do.

But also because I realized, as much as I have loved trying out Santae in beta, I am also a bit sad because I suspect I won’t get to experience the joy first time players will have once the game is finalized.

I have always been fond of secrets in games, even if I’m not always the best at discovering them. As I’ve said before when talking about Book of Hours, I’m not the brightest player. However, the joy of discovery is fun to me, and the way Santae is being built means that for newer players coming in they will get to discover all those things.

As a beta player, I get to experience these new features via a storyline, but that means that the creators are telling me directly (via story) how to find the objects and where they should go to discover the new feature. So I do not get the mystery that newer players will experience.

And I suspect they will be getting a lot of mysteries. Probably one of the most unique things I think Santae is doing is offering players ways of obtaining different pets through different means. Allowing players to discover what creatures are out there in the world of Santae.

That kind of play style would have delighted me as a child.

[retroellie]

Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom. 

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

[littleplantfreak]

Grocery Shopping Headcanons 1

I said I'd do these a while back and someone requested I do them when I was taking requests for my 100 followers event so uwu)/ one request fulfilled!! There will be a part two with the others coming eventually...Once I get through the rest of my requests.

____________

Umemiya Hajime

-One of the funnest people to go grocery shopping with tbh.

He's talking you into buying a few extra snacks/food by holding them up in front of you and puppeting them at you, asking in a silly high pitched voice if you'll please buy them because they've heard your pantry is the best vacation spot in town! He gets so silly with it.

-The older people in town tell him when and where the best sales are, which makes budgeting a lot easier. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes if one of them is in front of you in line, they'll have the cashier use their senior discount for your stuff as well. Don't try to fight them on it, though; they'll insist the only thing they need is for you both to visit them every once in a while, which you planned to do regardless.

-Gets upset if he hasn't found you in the store for a while after leaving to pick some things up. Once he does see you, he acts like it's been weeks and refuses to leave your side for the rest of the shopping trip. He's quite literally stuck to you like glue.

-The type to have really funky or cute looking reusable bags.

Choji Tomiyama

-Can't stay on task to save his life. If you're pushing the cart, he will stand on the other side of it being pushed around. He insists he'll take turns, but he gets a bit too enthusiastic with how fast he should be going through the aisles. Nearly runs a few people over before you decide maybe just pushing it normally works best.

-Do not let him disappear on you; he'll end up at some other grocery store two miles down the street.

-Sometimes he knows your tastes better than you do. If you're deliberating over trying something new, 9/10 times he's correct about how you'll like it. He actually pays a lot of attention to what you like to eat and drink.

-Calls Togame and not only asks him what he wants from the store, but tells him to come down by the time you guys are done to help carry your stuff. He hasn't said no to Choji yet.

-He's feeding you both all the samples he can find until you realize you snacked so much you're not even hungry for dinner anymore.

Suo Hayato

-He's pretty relaxed compared to the other two. He'll let you take the reins for the most part since he's got all the stuff written down and knows each aisle it's in. He doesn't often stray from his normal foods so it's almost muscle memory now.

-When he does try something new, it's weird stuff. Like you didn't know this was in the store weird, what aisle does that even go in? You look around to see, and find nothing. He either took the last one or he was in the forbidden part of the grocery store.

-Sometimes, if he knows you're getting a lot, he brings the collapsible grocery wagon. (don't even play with me, this is the hottest thing someone could do for grocery shopping.)

-Watch out if you lose sight of him or he goes to grab something without you, because he WILL jumpscare you and you WILL have to try to smother your yelp.

Nirei Akihiko

-Extreme couponing Nirei edition tbh he's got it down to a science

-Knows a surprising amount of recipes by heart, so if you're trying hard to remember what you need for what you wanna make? Don't even get out your phone to struggle with finding enough bars (because for some reason grocery stores are iron fortresses that don't have cell service?) Nirei has it all up there in his beautiful brain.

-He's never in a rush and doesn't really separate from you (why would he want to?) He's just thrilled to spend time with you.

-Also one to have a bunch of different reusable bags.

-If you have a certain diet or need a certain ingredient, he knows all the specialty food stores around and is more than okay with making the extra stop with you.

-He has a certain type and brand of ice cream he likes to get as a treat every time, and although he tells you he doesn't need it, if they happen to be out of stock, he deflates a little.

Sakura Haruka

-You wouldn't think someone could be bad at grocery shopping, but....he's bad at it. An excess of meats and carbs is what comes home if you send him by himself, so it's best just to go together.

-Also you could swear he's giving a nasty look to the vegetable section hoping you don't pick any terrible ones up (though what's terrible to him is most of them)

-You catch him trying to hide if he sees someone he knows because to him, it'll just make it a longer grocery trip, and honestly, he just wants to go home with you. Point out who he's hiding from and say hi and watch the look of betrayal as he's turning red and grumbling.

-It takes him a bit, but after a few trips he starts to get the hang of things. He can tell the better meat cuts, and now knows to check the eggs to make sure they're not cracked. Sometimes, he texts you a picture of the vegetables you're looking for to make sure they're the right ones or to make sure they're your preferred ripeness if you're not there

The self checkout becomes his best friend, that way he doesn't have to worry about making small talk. He's screwed when he picks up meats, though, because the scale never picks up the weight properly, and then he's sweating waiting for one of the workers to come help him out.

-Refuses to let you carry the bags in, and is also one of those people who insist on loading up all the groceries on his arms at once. There will be no second trips to the car.

[hi-sierra]

Biologics, chapter 0.5

Hello, hello! I finally have added a significant amount to my story, Biologics, resulting in a total of ~4400 words. Not a whole ton, I know, but unfortunately life gets to ya. It isn't quite where I want it to be to consider a proper chapter one, but I feel like there's enough written for me to post. General warning that this is intended to heavily lean into the theme of "eroticism of the machine", so if that doesn't appeal to you, you've been warned. It does, however, have many general sci fi worldbuilding elements, so I hope it has a somewhat broad appeal!

So yes, if you already read the first snippet, that's going to be mostly a one to one repeat with some grammatical adjustments. Feel free to scroll down until you get to the new stuff. Flow-wise, there just wasn't a good place to break between the two sections.

Look at me rambling. And I wonder why I can't get any of this stuff done. Anyways, here it is!

Biologics

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with Biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- organic matter that interfaced with the hull, moving new titanium plates and patches into place down to microscopic precision. If you had a living, growing mass interfacing with steel, a ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous matrix full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, integrated with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, just to let them suffer and rot. So as far as the official record was concerned, they weren't brains. But I knew different.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on an... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship, was thriving. The Navy was pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. Sometimes, being scavenged and resold was a kinder fate. But more often, some nasty piece of work would pick them up eventually, and treat them like just another goddamn ship. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chassis I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips, as well as some... personal touches. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live in and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I slipped into the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as a tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Hell, she even had a hi-res screen for external cameras and comms, but she refused to interface directly with it. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, the little pixelated screen was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with Biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. Cuz they certainly could take over some ships functions directly, and had the skill to do complex mechanical and electrical tasks. The Navy never let 'em drive, though, and most pilots didn't even know they could give them the ability to control any of the ships functions directly. But with a little help, a little bit of solid engineering, and a pilot that knew their ship... well, you could do a lot. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well. Over the years, I'd added some nice things for her, and she loved using them to help me out.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers affixing them to the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on.

[...?]

"We got a scrap run."

[ ^_^]

[ :) ]

[ ^_^ ]

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and the parts Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time. I punch the boost.

The station shakes. Rosie was never a subtle one.

The mechanics are deafened.

The crowd of spectators are deafened.

The other pilots in the hanger are deafened.

But me? The vibrations of Rosie's hull shuddering under me was the sweetest symphony my ears ever had the pleasure of hearing. As we shot out of that hanger, I found myself involuntarily humming a high note, harmonizing with the sweet rumble of my baby's acceleration as we shoot out into the inky, black expanse of space. The twin asteroids shot by us as we disappeared, leaving only the faint blue plasma trail from our engines.

My hand is firm on the boost, weathered hands tightly gripping the bar of the accelerator. I remember installing this thing in her- it was an aftermarket adjustment, not included in the usual light skipper chassis. Gently stripping away the back of her chassis, caressing her insides as I rooted the paneling, firmly attaching the tanks and burners on her insides... these hands had taken great pleasure in that. Bested only, of course, by the first time I had felt the thing roar to life.

And what a feeling it was. Rosie's entire chassis, biological and mechanical, shuddering under my grasp. The grip of my calloused hands on the boost controls, tight and sweaty around the ridged grip of the horizontal bar. The noises she made, as if to shout in glee and wild abandon at being unchained and let loose into the eternal field of space, as she was made to do. The gentle touch of her skin on my back, my body pressed in contact with the small fraction of hers that was my seat. I glanced down at her face panel.

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

My humming gave way to a chuckle, and then a wholehearted, exhilarated laugh. Someone was enjoying herself. The flickering faces on her panel reminded me of the happily panting station dogs back on Mars.

But as much as I would like this to just be a joyride, I had promised Rosie a scrap run. And the pickings were looking good. I glanced down at the nav. I was intentionally headed at a slightly indirect angle- Rosie's boost was her main attractive feature (both as a ship, and as a working partner), and the extra leeway I had in travel time let me strategize a bit more. I doubted we would be the first people there, but I figured we could get in before the main rush. The only trouble was darting in and grabbing something right from under the noses of the first locusts. The scrap field in question included a disabled heavy mining freighter, a goliath of the ship larger than some of the asteroids it made supply runs between. I assumed that most other scavengers would be approaching directly from our station, and the other stations in its proximity. With Rosie's boost, we could overshoot, hook around, and put the freighter in between us and the guns of the more violent craft. Rosie has no long range weapons of any kind- not only would they slow down her miraculous speed, but she didn't like them. I tried installing a small plasma cannon once, and she expressed immense distaste. Maybe they were too brutish for her, or maybe she didn't like the way they felt inside her, burdening her with pressure from the inside that didn't befit the delicate touches I usually graced her with. Rosie loved speed, precision, elegance, and stealth above all else. It's just the kind of ship she was.

That's not to say she was a pacifist, or defenseless. Quite the contrary. She just prefers a more... personal touch.

The navicom beeped at me. We'd reached the point where we needed to make that hook. My bare feet gently swept across the titanium flooring to the steering pedals. My right hand delicately gripped the steering joystick, while my left eased its grip on the boost accelerator.

"Ready for this, darling?"

[ >:) ]

I slammed the steering to the left, and Rosie gleefully complied. The wide bank of the turn as we rotated and soared through the sea of stars twisted my body in its inertia, compressing me further into her. As the angle straightened out to the proper heading, I punched the boost again, and Rosie roared forward.

Slowly, our target came into sight. Damn. This thing had taken some serious damage. Mining freighters typically weren't heavily armored- their only job was to get material from point A to B- but this one had clearly been through some serious modifications. Modifications that now lay in ruin. Titanium plating was scattered in a field around the core of the freighter. I couldn't quite tell what was stuff left behind by the battle, and what was the result of shoddy craftmanship- but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the entire thing had been split almost in half, and the scattered cargo that was leaking out. Cargo that most likely included half the weapon supplies of this little rebel faction. Would fetch a pretty penny, to the right buyer. And hell, if it was just gonna sit here unclaimed...

Ah shit. It wasn't gonna sit here unclaimed. Despite my best efforts, it looks like we weren't the first ones here. A larger scavenger gang had already arrived, and it looks like it was one of the ones I knew- Augustus and his lot. Most likely, they'd be after the weapons intact, one more thing to use to shakedown the scattered independent stations I always flitted between. He would not be happy to see me n Rosie here. What he called his "fleet" was a single, mid-sized carrier ship, about half the size of the freighter we were looting, and the dozen or so scout fighters and strip mining crafts he had looted from the Navy and various corps, and one Biologic that he called his. I respect that part, to be honest. What I don't respect is him immediately turning around and using that charge every goddamn station his ever-increasing "protection fees". Not to mention my personal disdain for the way he treated his ship. Didn't even give her a damn name. I digress. But any chance to loot something from under that slimebag's nose was a win in my book. I knew he wasn't gonna make it easy, though.

Welp. That's what our positioning was for. The side facing us was the main starboard face, and like the rest of the ship, it was peppered in small holes and gashes. Seems like the main damage had happened from the other side, and a few cables and scaffolds on the starboard just barely kept the two rear cargo compartments clinging to the front.

"Alright Rosie, time to creep it in slow. Be quiet, now, don't want them picking up a plasma surge"

[ :| ]

Ha. That was her "my lips are sealed" face. She's having fun with this already.

I cut the booster, coasting closer and closer to the bust open vessel. I eased the reverse thrusters ever so slightly, my fingers gently stroking the dual brake levers, lightly teasing at them to wait until we were as close as I thought we could be without attracted attention.......... before slamming both sides back towards me. For just one, crucial moment.

The goal here was to approximately match the speed and trajectory of a floating piece of titanium plating. Rosie's frontal blades were essentially that, anyways, so all they would see is a somewhat more angular piece of rubble. Hopefully they hadn't seen that same piece of rubble screaming out of travel speed, but I was cautious enough with my distances that I didn't think that was a problem. And they hadn't seen me yet. Once we were close enough to the freighter itself, we were blocked from their raw sightline, and Rosie was running quiet enough to not tip off any of their energy sensors.

But there was still no guarantee. Rosie, however, had no shortage of tricks. Something that she and I had developed together was a nice little bit of snooping. Well cared for and well trained, a Biologic brain had the problem solving of a human, and the computational power of a machine. But them together, and you've got a perfect decoder. And I happened to know that Augustus used an encrypted local frequency to keep his

"Alright Rosie, thinkin you can eavesdrop a little?"

Affirmative.

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[...]

[..!]

:D

My comms crackled to life. "...7 heavy cannons in center-front portside bay, 3 replacement fighter hatchs...."

The comms crackled back and forth, with each pilot giving updates to what they were finding in their own little segment that they were slicing apart. Occasionally, I saw Augustus or the fighters flick between the slicing ships, overseeing their progress on the port bays. Good. Let them focus on the other side for now. Slowly, the fleet was overshadowed by the freighter. We made it. I released my breath- shit, didn't realize I was holding it- and took a better look at what we were dealing with. It looked as if the scattered debris field had mostly been the remnants of the hull, as well as light weapons for small craft and even infantry. They would fetch some small change, sure, but Rosie's cargo capacity was small. Packing efficiency was the name of the game. I saw the gash that it had all been flooding out of on this side- the entire freighter was covered in them- and peered inside. And ho boy, did my heart flutter.

Heavy cannons.

Jump-graded travel boosters.

Raw, precious metals.

And, hidden in the back corner, seemingly bolted into the wall.... a brain.

We'd hit jackpot, and potentially rescued a poor ship from abandonment, or worse.

"Alright Rosie. Time to get to work."

Affirmative.

And here was another lil something that made Rosie special- her manipulation arms . She always preferred that delicate touch, and wanted to interact with the world in a tactile, real way. So we worked on it. Together. I was tired of taking spacewalks to grab small pieces of scrap, or using the entire goddamn cargo bay on a piece that only had a tiny core, or scraps of precious metals inside. So we needed something that could pluck apart our finds. Do some light disassembly in the field, extract what was valuable, and load it in with the most packing efficiency possible. So I gave her arms- snake like appendages, coiled up in her cargo bay, with thousands of points of articulation. At first, I tried to make some kind of control system that I could use from the cockpit. But Rosie had a different idea. At her urged, I jacked them directly into the same sensory and motor systems that let her grip onto, position, and repair her hull. And by god, it worked.

When I showed her off the first time, no one had ever seen anything like it. Because there was nothing like it. A ship taking real mechanical control, over something so precise and delicate, was something that only a deeply intelligent, deeply skilled ship, with complex decision making and tactile movement could do.

And I was goddamn proud of her.

Every time she deployed them, I watched awe. Rosie gave a face of determination, and sinuous, metallic, tentacle-like appendages slid out in a bundle from the cargo bay opening on her underside. Each one was headed off by a different attachment- a precision laser cutter, a simple three-pointed grabbing claw, a drill, a tiny buzzsaw, camera that let me see what was going on, and more. Each one could be swapped out, depending on the task at hand. With eight of them slithering out from her cargo bay, though, there was usually something for everything. They extended out as a single bouquet, down through the hole of the cargo compartment, and split apart once inside. Each arm got to work.

Her observation monitor flickered on, giving me a view from the camera arm. I would've liked to get the brain out first, but two heavy cannons and a booster blocking the way anyways. We'd cut through that, picking off the energy cores and precious metals in the circuits as we go, and work our way towards the back. Rosie seemed to like the plan as well. My only job was to watch the comms, and watch the sensors.

I watched the camera as the petite tools of the arms excised and picked apart the titanium shell of the first heavy cannon. Her tools- the delicate 'fingers' of her arms- picked, pulled, tugged, and gently gripped every necessary notch, every joined titanium plate that needed to be undone, ever scrap of precious material. Firm, yet precise. Strong, yet never breaking or mishandling a single piece of cargo. As Rosie worked, my eyes darted across the energy sensors. I could see blips firing off as the ships on the other side of the freighter as the slicing ships worked and flitted between their stations from the other side. The comms crackled with their reports to Augustus- they seemed to be moving back and forth to the main carrier to drop off their hauls. It seemed like they had a lot to go through- we'd have plenty of time.

On the camera view, I could see a grabbing claw retracting back through the cargo bay. The first cannon had the back section cleanly excised from the massive barrel and chassis, leaving a path for the tools to get to the booster. The precious energy cell was sliding its way back into Rosie's cargo bay. God damn. She was quick with that. The laser cutter and saw were already making short work of the booster, too. We'd get to the brain in no time.

The chatter on the other line continued. We were still safe, but Augustus' crew had made more progress than I had hoped. Once the slicers had picked apart the port, they'd loop around to the starboard. We had to grab what we could as fast as we can- but I knew neither me or Rosie was gonna leave without that brain. Rosie gracefully sliced the fuel cell and ignition from the plasma burner, leaving the bracketing and vents behind. The second heavy cannon was soon to follow. Each cut through each piece had left a winding path towards the back of the chamber, allowing a physical path to what I had seen just barely poking through: a container for a genuine ship's brain. Rosie slid her camera arm in for a closer look.

The brain was bolted into the chassis of the ship, as well as some containers of growth factor. Seemed like the intent was to grow her in to this freighter. That was certainly an ambitious task, but if they knew what they were doing, it would be well worth it. A self-repairing, intelligent hauler as large as this one would be the heart and soul of resistance movements everywhere, supplying every backwater mining station or moon that longed to be free. Unfortunately, the brave and principled can still be stupid, and these chucklefucks had no idea what they were doing. Slapped in a random cargo bay, desperately trying to get growth out from there with no proper imprinting guidance... shame. If they'd've found me before running into the Navy, I might've helped them out. But at least now, we could give her a better life. I knew a lot of good, caring pilots that would take loving care of a fine ship like her.

From what I could tell, we were still safe from Augustus. Based on what I was hearing on the comms, each slicer was working on its last cargo hold subsection, and after that, they'd be poking around this side. We had to get this brain and get out.

Tenderly, her claw arm gripped the top of the brain's chamber, as her other fingers started working on the rivets. A saw would bust through part of the titanium bracket holding the chamber down, and when it got too close to the container itself, laser cutters took over, delicately slicing off each affixation point one by one. Rosie worked in a clockwise direction, first working down the three riveting points on the right, sawing off the bottom bracket, and then working up the rivets on the left.

C'mon Rosie. You got this. Just need the top plate....

"Finishing up there, slicer 5T?"

Shit. That was Augustus on the comms.

"Sure thing boss. Just gotta get this load to central. Mind if someone takes a peek on the other side for parasites before I get there?"

Shit.

"Sure thing. Fighter 3A, get your ass in gear and make a full pass of the ship."

An energy spike pinged on my sensor panels as the fighter revved up a booster.

"Gotcha boss. Starting at aft segment."

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

We still had a sliver of time before we were seen. They'd wanna get a good pass everywhere- there were ships far stealthier than us out there. But it was minutes at most. We had to finish up.

"Rosie, how're we doing there? You done?"

Negative.

[ ;( ]

"Fuck. Rosie, we gotta get outta here."

Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative.

Rosie-speak for "I know, I know, I know"

My eyes were fixed to the scanner and my cockpit windows for a visual, but I spared one moment to check Rosie's cam. She was finishing sawing through the top bracket. Just a little more....

"Aft clear, moving to starboard cargo bays."

The brain snapped off of the hull, and Rosie's claws were zipping it back to her cargo bay. I revved the engines into standby. The arms tenderly guided it through the path we had cleared, and out through the hole in the hull. We might be able to barely slip away without them knowing.....

I looked up through the cockpit, just as the dinged-up, formerly Navy fighter showed itself from behind a piece of debris. It froze for a moment, and then lined its nose to face me. Cannon ports shifted open, and slowly took aim.

"Well shit, Augustus, you're gonna wanna see this. Get your ass over here, I'm switching to public comms."

I heard slight fuzz as he switched his channel.

"Alright, leech, I'll keep this simple. You have thirty seconds to relinquish your haul before you join the debris."

For a single, cold moment, I swear I made eye contact with him through our cockpits.

[amourane]

Hi Yves, thank you for writing such great fics for us! I noticed you haven’t written anything for Blaise so is it ok to request for him?

Blaise and y/n are aurors and “rivals” bcs they think they’re better than e/o. They had to go to a mission tgt and she got hurt/almost got hurt but tried to play it cool while Blaise was so protective (swooning rn).

If you’re uncomfy writing Blaise you can also make it as Theo.

Much love xx

hexed hearts

pairing: blaise zabini x gn!reader

genre: fluff, aurors au, post hogwarts

w/c: 1.6k

summary: hate was a very strong word and it was the word you would use to describe blaise zabini perfectly.

warnings: swearing, you get hit with a hex and you bleed, nothing too graphic

a/n: tysm for requesting this anon!! i'm so happy you enjoy my writing and ofc you can request for blaise, this is my gift to you <3

Hate was a strong word. It was something that everyone said. Arguably it was a word most people used often without truly knowing just how strong the connotations were. No, you didn’t hate Blaize Zabini. You despised him with every single cell in your being. Not only was he a cocky asshole he was also determined to surpass you in everything. 

The two of you had been in the same year in Hogwarts and though you had only met when the both of you were 11 hatred had already been brewing. He was conceited and arrogant and snarky. All the things you hated. The rivalry between the both of you had only grown throughout the years, the tension pulling tighter and tighter.

Now, the both of you were aurors and no one got a wink of peace when the both of you were around.

“Can you not be an insufferable piece of shit for two seconds?” You snarled at his direction and when you see him sporting the same devilish smirk it only fuels your anger further.

“One. Two.” He holds his fingers up as he counts the seconds, mocking your emotions even more. “There, done. I know that you love me Y/n but you can’t even stay away from me for two seconds, that’s adorable.”

You lunged at him, anger bubbling over the top, ready to pounce on him and hex him into oblivion. Blaise was so annoying, so irritating and yet he was also so brain-numbingly handsome and smooth. You felt someone grab your shoulder stopping you just in time before you pummelled the man’s face in. 

“C’mon Y/n I can’t be the one cleaning up after the both of you again.” Harry sighed as he held you back. You watched as Blaise’s smug grin only widened as he leaned back into his chair. “The both of you are going to have to get along, there’s a mission for both of you.”

“But-”

“No buts Y/n, this one came from the guys above. You know how they are so you and Zabini are going to have to get along.” 

Harry didn’t say anything more as he left you standing there in disbelief. You didn’t even have a chance to refuse or even beg to not go. Blaise let out a low whistle as soon as the other auror left. He got up from his seat and made his way towards you, the shit-eating grin on his face only irritating you further. You scowled as he stopped just a few inches in front of you.

“Don’t be a pussy L/n, I’m sure you can resist my charms for a few hours.” He threw you a wink and you felt your skin crawl with disgust. Blaise was attractive, yes, but merlin how you wanted to just punch that annoying expression right off his face.

“You better not fuck this up Zabini or I swear to merlin-”

He cut you off before you could finish and rolled his eyes at the words you spat out. “I know, I know.” He shrugged his shoulders back before glancing at you again. Your glare met his eyes and you found yourself getting lost in his dark gaze. “You should know by now I don’t fuck anything up.”

With that, he snapped you out of your hazy thoughts. Your glare hardened and you scoffed at his arrogant statement. That was the last thing he said before disappearing behind you, leaving you to stew in your own anger. You had just been put together with your worst enemy on a mission. This was unbelievable.

//

The mission was a standard recon, yet the tension between you and Blaise made it anything but. Sneaking through the dense forest, you tried to focus on the task at hand and not the infuriating presence beside you. Blaise, for once, seemed focused, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

It wasn’t meant to be a hard mission, the both of you were skilled enough to handle any of the attacks that were hurled your way. Yet, everything happened so fast. One minute you were shouting hexes, pointing your wand at the danger before you. Blaise was beside you, his movements fluid and precise, something you had always envied. 

In the chaos, you didn’t see the hex coming. It hit you square in the chest, sending you sprawling to the ground, pain searing through your body. It hurt, it hurt a lot but you couldn’t let that stop you. This was a mission and every mission was treated with the utmost importance. There was no way that you were going to give up so easily. You gritted your teeth, trying your best to push yourself up and carry on. 

“I’m fine.” You muttered through clenched teeth as you struggled to stand. The pain only seemed to increase, spreading throughout your body quicker. “Just a scratch.”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at you, his expression shifting from annoyance to something you couldn’t quite place. “Bullshit, Y/N. You’re hurt.”

“I said I’m fine.” You insisted, ignoring the throbbing pain in your side. “Let’s just finish this.”

But Blaise wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I don’t need your help, Zabini.” You snapped, trying to pull away, but your strength was waning.

“Stop being stubborn.” He growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re not dying on my watch.”

His words stunned you into silence. Before you could protest further, Blaise lifted you into his arms, carrying you with surprising gentleness. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through him. Your own heart was beating just as fast and you tried to steady your laboured breathing. Despite your protests, you couldn’t help but lean into him, exhaustion and pain overcoming your pride. 

As the two of you reached a safer area, he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your shoulders as he checked your wound. You winced when he pressed at your side and you turned to shoot him a glare but apologies were already tumbling from his lips. The concern in his eyes was undeniable, and it confused you. This was the same Blaise Zabini who had always been your rival, your nemesis.

“You’re going to be okay.” He said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. He muttered a spell you assumed was to calm the bleeding that was seeping through your clothes. “Just hang in there.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, not sure what else to say.

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, his usual smirk returning. “Just try not to get yourself killed next time. It’s a lot of paperwork.”

You rolled your eyes at his snarky remark, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain. “You wish.”

As the adrenaline wore off you found yourself more in tune with the pain as well as the lingering touches that Blaise left as he helped you. The forest was eerily quiet and you knew that the danger was no longer there yet the silence only made it more awkward between the both of you. Every once in a while you would meet his eyes and your eyes would lock with his for a second before he turned away.

It was weird.

You winced as you shifted, the pain in your side sharp and persistent. Blaise noticed immediately, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Let me see.”

You debated whether to refuse his request before giving in. “Fine.”

He knelt beside you, gently lifting your bloodied shirt to inspect the wound. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. The wound was deep, and the sight of it made you grimace.

“You’re lucky.” He murmured, his voice oddly tender. “A bit higher and it could have been much worse.”

“Guess I’ll have to thank you for that.”

Blaise looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the usual antagonism was absent, replaced by something softer, more intense. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. Just… try to be more careful.”

He was so close, his breath warm on your skin. Your heart kept the fast pace it had despite the fact all your adrenaline had already dissipated. He leaned closer towards you, fingertips grazing your wound and his touch somehow soothed the ache you felt.

“I mean it.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “I hate watching you get hurt.”

“Blaise-” The words die in your throat and you can’t continue the sentence you so desperately wanted to say. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the same Blaise who had driven you crazy for years, yet here he was, showing a side of himself that left you breathless.

Before you could open your mouth to respond he had already closed the distance between the two of you. His lips brushed against yours for a tentative kiss. His lips were soft and you found yourself clinging onto him, desperate for the sweet sensation that he filled you with. It was gentle at first before it increased with intensity. The pain you felt disappeared and all you could focus on was the beautiful man in front of you.

When he finally pulled back the both of you were breathless. His eyes searched yours as if he was looking for confirmation if he had read the situation correctly. You took a shaky breath, your mind reeling from the intensity of the kiss.

“Maybe we don’t hate each other as much as we thought.” Your voice was soft, a small smile playing on your lips as your hands loop around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

Blaise’s expression softened, his thumb tracing your jawline. “Maybe not.”

Silence enveloped you once again and this time it felt comforting. Blaise’s arms felt right around you, his warmth radiating off his body making you feel that much more safe. There was no longer the crackling animosity between the two of you.

“Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“Shut the fuck up Zabini.”

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

Please consider donating to my Kofi. That would really help me!

Likes, replies, reblogs, and shares also count. Once again, thanks so much!

At his ripe age for marriage, Emperor Shiva ought to be more concerned with finding a wife than he is with a letter he held between his thumb and forefinger while standing in a state of shock. His birthday banquet is in two days; he should have busied himself overseeing the décor preparations and entertainment for the overseas guests, not clamping his jaw, crumpling the paper into a ball, and throwing it angrily.

"Childe.. how dare he..!" Shiva shouted, turning to face his confidant. "How dare he do something so... vile!"

From his outraged reaction, the confidant deduced that Emperor Childe had done something as awful as stab him in the back. That seems to be what he would do. But he recalled the rumors that the Snezhnayan ruler had put to death a number of his nobles for grave defamation of Liyue. He was young, yet brave enough to take drastic measures for the crimes committed during his reign. If he still harbored secretly wicked intentions toward the great Liyue empire, he shouldn't have bothered to do that, right?

So, the confidant ventured to ask: "Your Majesty, is everything all right?"

“Are you blind? Of course not!" He shoved the paper against his confidant's chest and paced back and forth in uneasiness as he waited for him to finish reading.

The handwriting was neat, still easy to read even though the paper was crumpled—thanks to Shiva. Although Liu—the poor confidant's name—kept sweeping his eyes, he couldn't help but feel guilty for reading private letters written by other people to other people. Thinking that this should only be a conversation between the Empress of Snezhnaya and the Emperor of Liyue didn't help either.

Nothing you've written is unfavorable; nothing even remotely resembles a threat or your mention of any mistreatment. It merely contained your sincere apologies to Shiva for having to send someone to attend on your and Childe's behalf, and for being unable to go due to severe morning sickness, which is typical of pregnancy's second trimester. His eyes widen. That's surprising, nonetheless, not a bad thing. He congratulated you in his heart.

Liu furrowed his brows, lowering the letter to stare at the Emperor. “Your Majesty?” he called.

Shiva halted in mid-step and fixed him with piercing eyes. "Have you read it?" His voice was firm, demanding.

“Yes, I have, but I..” When Liu sensed Shiva's intense gaze, he paused and let his words hang. As he once more held the letter up, he forced a hard swallow. “Apologies, perhaps I missed a point—”

"She's pregnant.”                                

Liu paused once more as his mind tried to make sense of anything. "She's pregnant." His mind went over the two phrases, trying to find something vile out of it. He stopped thinking when he felt his scalp heat up. Was this supposed to be a riddle? Before he could answer (and risk himself for failing to understand once again), Shiva blew a harsh breath from his mouth. He clenched his fists tightly, popping the veins under his skin. His handsome face were tarnished by a wrath that Liu couldn't place.

"She's pregnant. He impregnated her.” Shiva made sure to emphasize the “he” part.

From all the emphasis on his words and the movement of his fingers to accentuate everything, Liu still couldn't understand; at this point he believed he had suddenly lost his intelligence and was left with only one very overworked brain cell. He would grow wrinkles from furrowing his brows for the umpteenth time. Shiva took another sharp breath before pacing back and forth.

"Congratulations to the Emperor and Empress of Snezhnaya..?" Liu said doubtfully.

Shiva shook his head vigorously. So, it wasn't a congratulation he wanted to hear. Liu followed the Emperor briskly into his dressing room, where he saw him pick up a luggage and place it on the crimson couch. Like a madman, he took most of his clothes and stuffed it all in without even bothering to fold it properly. His confidant hastily stopped him.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?”

The long-haired man grabbed his sword from the display and swung it open too fast that he nearly struck Liu. "I have to go to Snezhnaya." He spoke while looking at the steel and his reflection in it.

"What?!" Liu's heart skipped a beat as he hadn't expected his intonation to be that loud. He cleared his throat, then corrected: “Apologies, Your Majesty. But, are you sure?"

"Yes. Bring the maids here to prepare my belongings.” Shiva gave up trying to get all of his clothes into one luggage. He slowly placed his sword on his bed and rested his palms on his hips.

"But what of your birthday banquet in two days' time?”

“Ah, you're right.” Liu almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Shiva had returned to his right mind. Shiva's next words dashed those expectations, however, as he chose to open his mouth and utter, "Send out a letter to everyone, informing them that the banquet is canceled! I shall spend my birthday week in Snezhnaya."

“B-But, Your Majesty!”

“Now, fetch me the maids. I must cleanse myself and my belongings require to be packed.” Shiva commanded as he took off his robe, leaving only his trousers on. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror but noticed that Liu hadn’t left the room. In response, the Emperor’s head rotated sharply, and his gaze went over to him with an intense expression. “What are you waiting for? Hurry and summon the maids!” he snapped.

With a huff, Liu hastily left the room and almost slipped (he cursed himself for being so unfortunate today). Maids came soon after in a rush, some preparing a warm bath for Shiva, while other maidens packed his belongings quickly and efficiently without daring to ask questions; no one ever dared to question the things Emperor Shiva did, even if they were rather illogical to the normal mind.

The news of your brother’s impromptu visit was relayed to you by Countess Sasha, who entered your reading room, bowed, and stated that Emperor Shiva was now residing within the Emerald Palace. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you considered this revelation. Previously, during every trip to Snezhnaya, Shiva had always decided to live in the mansion he owned rather than the palace grounds. As you set down your book, you attempted to stand upright from your seated position with the assistance of Ksenia and Laura, who were each clasping one of your hands.

Your face remained puzzled, with questions about the sudden change. Why? Wasn’t there a birthday banquet scheduled for the very next day?

The sound of Sasha’s footsteps came closer before she knelt down next to you. “How are you, my lady?” Sasha inquired softly. “Does the queasiness still trouble?”

You paused for a moment to feel your body, then shook your head with a smile. “It has subsided,” you replied. Taking Laura’s hand for support, you rose from your chair.

Sasha noticed your movements and straightened respectfully. “Should you wish an audience with Emperor Shiva, may I suggest inviting him here instead of embarking on the long journey to the Emerald Palace?” Her voice was full of worry, but you couldn’t help but sigh at her words.

“Sasha, I’m with child, not on the verge of perishing,”

The Countess swiftly shook her head as she spoke. “Of course, I did not intend to imply that it was otherwise,” she hurriedly said. “however, it was His Majesty who had directed me to look after you well.” She explained, her tone coming across with genuine care and concern.

“Oh, fantastic. I can hardly break free from his shackles, can I?”

You conveyed your protest half-heartedly. The Queen Dowager had informed you that it was normal to feel dependent and in need of help while pregnant (it is an extremely significant and sensitive time for women). However, there was a stark contrast between her words and reality; it was Childe who irritated you with how much he always wanted to be by your side more than was necessary. You failed to keep track of the innumerable instances he told you that you needn’t be concerned since he possessed the knowledge and experience from his mother's pregnancy when she was expecting Teucer; however, he continued to perspire and ordered Dmitri to call for the healer each and every time you throw up from the morning sickness in the early hours.

You grimace. Upon further reflection, Dmitri deserves to receive a full year of paid leave. Even under Childe's pressure, he had performed admirably.

“Your Majesty.” Sasha stepped closer to the door and gave a warning, her frown deepening and dipping in displeasure at your defiant behavior. She was certain that if this kept up, she would age faster.

“Come now, Countess, there’s no need to worry,” You soothed, glancing down fondly at your growing belly. “You seem to forget that this child's father is Tartaglia – do you truly believe a stroll through the gardens would cause us harm?”

You caressed your swollen middle affectionately. “However, do pass me my coat, won't you? It seems the babe has inherited their mother's weakness for this country's chill autumn airs.” You continued, watching as Ksenia hurriedly grabbed a coat for you.

Ultimately, despite her doubts and a heavy heart, Sasha let you walk to see your brother. You slowly made your way out of your room and down the Golden Spire palace's lengthy hallway. Indeed, the building where the emperor and empress lived was beautiful, with the ceiling covered in intricate gold filigree work and light streaming into the hallway, illuminating the entire area. Even the pillars, which have stood for hundreds of years, still looked strong and exquisitely polished. However, the everyday scenery is quickly replaced by the stunning autumn setting as soon as you reach outside. Golden rays of the sun filter through the colorful trees and bring a warm glow to the imperial grounds. You stopped after you stepped on dry leaves, the pleasant crinkling sound of them causing a smile to tug at the corners of your lips.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?” As you guessed, Sasha hurriedly approached you.

“No.” You answered her while stroking your growing stomach greeting the small kick inside. With your eyes squinted from the glare of the sun, you catch another two dry leaves falling tossing and turning before they hit the ground. “Autumn is coming to an end.”

Your remark caused the three ladies-in-waiting to glance at the garden's big oak tree. “Indeed, Your Majesty.” Sasha replied to you.

“Winter is coming.” you mused again, the imperial physician's words echoed once more - the child would be a winter-born. Soon, very soon, you would hold your son or daughter in your arms at last.

Sasha nodded. “That's right,” she paused, then furrowed her brows, curious and concerned. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” She watched you smile before suddenly resuming your steps, requiring your ladies-in-waiting to hurriedly follow you.

The Emerald Palace building comes into sight. You noticed the vibrant blooms had faded, their petals falling to join the fiery leaves carpeting the grounds. The gurgling of water from a three-tier fountain could be heard. Your footsteps slowed at a polished figure seated solitary, chin raised with calm pride over steaming tea under a shady tree—from his posture, you easily recognized your older brother and proceeded to approach him.

“Brother.”

From that familiar voice, the young emperor turned his head sharply. (Y/N). He raked his gaze over her starting from her head—not much had changed from her hair being longer than the last time he saw her; her face was still as beautiful as before. Those luscious lips of hers should have been proof enough that somehow that bastard Tartaglia wasn't treating her badly (but Shiva knew he couldn't be too sure, after all this was Tartaglia he was talking about). His gaze, cold and flinty, traveled lower.

There, roundness was unmistakably forming where antes there had been flatness. Shiva’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as confirmation of his worst fears stared back at him—the telltale swell and curve of your belly, stretched taut with new life. His scowl twisted into a snarl.

“(Y/N).” Your name came out as a growl. “So the news is true. You carry that cad Tartaglia's spawn.” His lips curled in disgust.

A sigh escaped your lips. “His Majesty the Emperor is my husband, brother. Did you come all this way without a word, disrupting your duties, just to weigh down the father of your future niece or nephew?” You replied calmly.

Myriad full moons have come and passed, yet you remain the epitome of a lady who possessed the control and mastery over her emotions. In the past, it was a source of pride to Shiva from how you refused to break under any pressure—that if anyone wanted to find a flaw in you, their failure was all that could be found. But, now that he met your gaze with a flare of his own eyes, it irked him how you could remain so infuriatingly calm when he wanted to stir strong emotions.

“You concluded correctly, sister. My purpose is precisely to weigh that tyrant," he replied tersely. “He is unworthy of one like you. To think, my esteemed sister reduced to bearing the offspring of a mere war dog."

You gazed steadily at your brother, trying to keep a reign on your rising frustration. As Empress, you are well-practiced in diplomacy. But with family, diplomacy sometimes feels like a losing battle.

Taking a measured breath, you speak in a soft yet unyielding tone. “Ajax may have been a warrior in his youth, but he is so no longer, his battle-days are behind him. As the Emperor of Snezhnaya, he is a skilled ruler and has treated me with nothing but love and respect.”

If Shiva insists on continuing this argument, you swear—oh, you swear on God's name—to turn and walk away from him. No matter that he traveled all the way from Liyue and abandoned the birthday banquet that he called off (based on the information that Sasha brought), you're feeling the effects of the physical changes on your body and worry that you won't be able to handle much more. The babe is restless and your patience wearing thin. Another cutting remark and you might do something unwise.

Shiva was about to part his lips, and you braced yourself to hear more nonsense from him. He puffed himself like a pufferfish ready to strike, his facial expression wild and you wondered what was going on inside his head.

“I shall demand Tartaglia face me in single combat at once! For putting you in such a condition without my consent!”

You release a long-suffering sigh, one delicate hand lifted to press gloved fingers against furrowed brow. “For heaven's sake, brothers, husbands and wives tend to produce children without their siblings' approval. It's the natural way of things.”

“But you are the princess! And my sister!” Shiva sputtered. “No man touches you without my say-so!”

You massaged the bridge of your nose. “Shiva, I was married off with full blessings; and I'm an Empress now, with duties and affections of my own. Must you act stupid all the time? The child kicks as we speak, eager to meet the world, and you insist on this nonsense?” Your patience drips faster with every word Shiva says.

“He must answer for impregnating you!”

You throw your hands to the sky with failing patience. “For the love of—I'm just as responsible, you twit! Now either you end this stupidity or board the next ship before I brain you with this teapot.”

The Liyuean emperor was about to respond once more when you shot him a pointed look that silenced him for a thousand words. Shiva—the imposing and menacing Shiva—now visibly deflated like a sad balloon; anyone watching might have mistaken him for a large, pouting child rather than the mighty emperor of Liyue. His looming form seemed to shrink in on itself, broad shoulders curling forward and thick eyebrows kitting into a hurt frown.

Feeling your anger subside, you exhale bringing the last of your irritation out of your body, ready for a calmer, more reasonable conversation. “Come now, brother,” you started. “Stop sulking like a child. While you are here, I want to spend some good time with you. I've missed your company.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his larger hand trying to cheer him up. “Now then, why is it you've stayed inside the palace this time, instead of your favorite mansion as usual? Did something happen there?” You asked, your eyes narrowed with curiosity.

It was unusual for Shiva to leave the privacy of his mansion, settling at the Emerald Palace instead. It was always his habit to keep himself as far away from the radius of the Snezhnaya royal—imperial, now—family as possible. Or perhaps, as difficult as it was for your towering brother to admit, he simply wanted to spend more time with you during this visit. With a child soon to arrive, everyone will need the bonds of kinship to thrive; Shiva may have long assumed that your parents would not be on your list of expected family members, judging by your complicated relationship with your Liyuean family—duty and tradition often take precedence over emotional bonds. Shiva is the only one left as that anchor of familial closeness now more than ever.

Shiva cleared his throat gruffly, tugging at his ornate collar as if suddenly feeling confined. “Well, you know how it is. Can’t have you and that man multiplying willy-nilly before this one’s arrival, now can we?”

Your eyebrows fell in the flat, annoyed face you showed him. “Shiva, I say this with affection—producing children does not work that way.”

A hint of pink surfaced on his stately cheekbones. “Nonsense, I know precisely how these matters work. My informants keep me well-apprised.”

"Do they?" You raise a slender brow. “Somehow I doubt your informants' ‘updates' covered the specifics of pregnancy.”

Shiva harrumphed. “But, how then do twins come to be if not two planted at a time?”

You stifled a laugh. “The seed of twins quickens together through some quirk of nature, not… repetitive activities, as you suggest. One pregnancy, two babes—a blessing, not a strategy.”

The imposing Emperor of Liyue—tall and broad-shouldered, with chiseled features any sculptor with covet; yet, for all his power and prestige, in some ways, Shiva would always be the same. Small wonder the ladies of the court were forever vying for his attention, with but a glance and rumbling baritone, Shiva could make even the most steadfast knees quake. His valor in battle was legendary throughout Teyvat. As Emperor of Liyue, he commanded absolute obedience through dominance, vigilance, and cunning.

Yet for all his strength, domestic minutiae proved his bane. You have long grown accustomed to gently schooling him about the softer side of life. Babes, intimacy, and vulnerability were mystical puzzles to your pragmatic brother. They reminded you that for all his power and influence, at heart he remained your big brother. The same big brother who skipped etiquette class to play with you.

"Hmm.." Shiva stroked his imaginary beard. “There is still the matter of your… husband.”

You sigh. “Again?” This time, you turn your shoes to turn the other way. The wind was too cold and your legs were too sore to have this conversation anymore.

Shiva walked quickly to catch up with you. “He had best treated you well in your condition.” He grumbled, eyes hard as granite.

“Ajax dotes on me, as always.” Sometimes it's even too close to smothering; you wanted to add anything but didn't, out of concern that somehow Shiva will magically take this as a literal complaint. "But I thank you for your concern, brother."

The last rays of sunlight were fading fast as clouds deepened its shades of gray across the Emerald Palace gardens. You gazed around appreciatively, taking in the seasonal beauty of falling leaves. Auburn and scarlet leaves swirled upon currents of chilly air, coating lawns and paths in a blanket of faded color. Your breath misted before your plump lips in the dropping temperatures. As if sensing your discomfort, the babe within shifted and stretched, seeking warmth.

"It grows dark, and this cold will not do for anyone in my state," You looked at Shiva with a soft smile. “Walk with me back inside, brother? I believe a nice cup of hot tea by the fire is in order.”

The Liyuean emperor glanced down with a concerned frown, noticing the loss of color on your lips. Gently, Shiva opened his powerful palms to receive your smaller fingers upon his forearms. Even through the fabric, you could feel the waves of his inner furnace warming your skin.

“Fragile as a newborn bird.” He grumbled, though care dwelt in his stern gaze.

Leaning upon his sturdy frame, the two of you began the slow walk back to comforts within. The sunlight was getting dimmer. As shadows engulfed the gardens, the wind howled more fiercely through emerging tree branches, abandoning its playful mood. You bury your nose into your upturned collar, breathing in its lingering scent of sandalwood and spice. Despite all of that, Shiva still makes sure that his steps are not so wide that you struggle to match his. Slow and careful is better.

"Watch your step. Lean upon me if you're worried—it's better than the chance of a stumble or fall.”

Your heart swells at his fussy care, unsurprised though deeply touched. Fierce emperor he is, yet where family is, lies the same tender heart of your childhood, still beating sure and strong. This was far from new—from your earliest memories, it was Shiva who swept you into strong arms when storms raged, telling tales until even lightning's flash seemed like a play.

Little Shiva often gets reprimanded for "teaching" his sister to climb the ancient pine tree to retrieve his favorite celestial crab toy that got stuck high in the branches. Naughty girl climbs like a little monkey, but then too scared to come down. Big brother Shiva climbs up to save you, and you both end up having ears pulled by the caretaker Gong Gong for damaging boughs older than even their venerable dynasty.

The final step up the steps of the main palace is taken and closes your long journey to reach here. Home at last. You sigh contentedly, rubbing your belly where a new life stirred. Gazing up at the towering figure who has guided you since birth, you feel a surge of gratitude and safety wrap around you like a cashmere shawl.

Rain began to pelt the earth outside the window. A faint, untamed wind entered through the open door and caused the fire to dance before it was shut.

No matter what storms life sent your way, you knew without a doubt that your steadfast brother would always stand like a great pine, sheltering you under the boughs of his protection. Some things, it seemed, did not change even with time's passage. As you are led to refresh yourself by the fire, you send up a silent prayer of thanks for the brother who was, and always will be, your greatest protector under heaven.

It was raining outside.

Being a Snezhnayan-born, he was unaffected by snowstorms even.  He recalled boyhood winters where ice-cold feet covered in white had become a habit, and hypothermia had repeatedly passed by his mother's reprimands because little Ajax had played outside for too long. He often said the cold didn't bother him, and the Queen at that time responded with another string of stern lectures about mortal limits. "You may have thick skin and tough bones, but no man can contest with nature in her fury," she always said.

It was raining outside.

As the council droned on around discussions of trade routes and border disputes, the Emperor's focus wavered again to the pounding rain. Some part of him will always find solace in storms' primal rhythms, recalling simpler days playing in the palace white gardens.

But now another occupied his thoughts, and this autumn downpour no longer held nostalgia—just a chill that he knew she wasn't bred to withstand. His wife, you, the Empress, possessed a Liyuean's preference for temperate climates and was not so adapted to cold and damp. Frown found him easily. And with child too now, each storm brought new cause for concern.

Childe wonders what you're doing as the heavens open their floodgates. Resting as suggested, tucked cozily by the fire under layers of blankets? Or do you insist on wandering, eagle-eyed handmaidens fretting while you trailed damp slippers through resplendent halls? Childe knows how stubborn you are, and he also knows your ladies-in-waiting have laid down life itself if harm threatens their empress or babe. Still, he is unable to subdue his inclinations.

Perhaps a visit was in order.

As the discussion continued, Childe glanced at his confidant, Dmitri. The young, diligent, man lends a keen ear to the proceedings, a pen scratching next to a pile of notebook paper.

Childe knew that if he was suggested to leave the council meeting to see his empress, he would be met with disgruntlement from him. Dmitri took his duties as confidant seriously, and interrupting state affairs for personal reasons went against propriety. Sure enough, he could already hear a series of protests. “Your Majesty, the generals are presenting vital information. This is not the time for idle social calls.” Or perhaps, “The Empress will understand your devotion to duty, sire. Go to her when business is concluded.”

But Dmitri's words would fall on deaf ears as always, anyway. If it came to you, Childe was ruled by heart far more than head. And his heart now beats in worry for your comfort in this unruly weather. So, let Dmitri shout until he was hoarse. Your smile is worth any scolding. And the baby… oh, how he longed to feel those tiny kicks against his big palms.

Just as General Gorin slowly rose to present his next point, Childe waved his hand and smoothly cut in. “Gentlemen, I am grateful for all the insights that have been shared so far. However, more pressing matters now demanded my attention. Let's end today's meeting and continue planning tomorrow.”

Surprised murmurs filled the room as the Emperor rose, meeting already ended without warning. Dmitri shot Childe a pointed look asking clearer than words – “Pressing matters, Your Majesty? What matters could possibly arise now?” He asked full of confusion, but a suspicion and guess was hidden underneath.

Childe merely flashed his confidant a guileless smile and shrugged without a care. “Family matters. You understand this.”

Oh, Dmitri understands it all too well. The confidant has long been accustomed to his emperor's whims wherever it concerns his empress. How he understood the depth of Childe's devotion to you.

Like that inspection of new naval defenses, where one of your ladies-in-waiting's arrival brings news of your headache turning Childe on his heel, meeting forgotten. General Gorin’s rage at disrupted schedules took moons to subside.

Or that time, yet another council meeting was thrown into disarray by Childe's protectiveness of you. The advisers had gathered to discuss border security when suddenly, the Emperor shot up from his seat said an urgent matter had arisen, and they should continue the discussion among themselves. Sure enough, they soon learned the “urgent matter” was that you insisted on taking a walk around the garden that afternoon. One of your maidens had come to notify Childe, worried you might tire yourself from the early stages of your pregnancy.

Not that Childe neglected his duties—somehow he always resolved imperial affairs with his usual flare, despite his distracted heart. But propriety and practicality demand that protocols be adhered to! What if an urgent vote is needed, or a treaty is signed, in his hasty absence? He understood, truly understood his emperor's loyalty to the family. But, as a confidant, it grew tiresome to have to have strategic discussions interrupted at vital moments just because the Emperor “just wanted to check on her.”

With a tired sigh, Dmitri forced himself to speed up his pace to match Childe's determined strides through the palace halls. “There is one other matter requiring your attention, Your Majesty.”

Childe threw him a sideways glance, blue eyes sharpening. “Out with it, Dmitri.” He demanded.

“Emperor Shiva of Liyue is presently within the palace walls,” Dmitri stated.

The Emperor halted abruptly, whipping to face his advisor with eyes like a blade drawn. “And you didn't tell me sooner, Boyar?”

Dmitri bowed in contrition. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I just received word upon leaving the council chambers. It seems that the Liyue ruler came unannounced, desiring an audience solely with Her Majesty the Empress.”

Childe’s scowl spoke volumes on his fraught relationship with your overprotective brother. While necessity forged an alliance, personal warmth was lacking between the proud rulers. Shiva saw himself your guardian first, diplomacy second. And the prospect of his beloved sister bearing children for an “outsider” emperor did little to endear. Many cold stares had passed between the men in your presence.

The young emperor resumed his long strides, lips pursed in a hard line. “Where is he now?”

His confidant hastened to keep up. “From words of the guards, the Empress welcomed her brother into the Emerald Palace gardens. But seeing storm clouds gather, they retired to Her Majesty's private drawing room for tea indoors." Dmitri answered.

The scowls on his handsome face deepened. Childe made long, purposeful strides down the gleaming palace halls, cape billowing behind him like the stormclouds overhead. Servants scattered from his frigid aura, wise people try to avoid his presence. Dmitri behind him followed hurriedly, trying to catch air with ragged breaths.

Poor young man. The more they approached the chamber, the more Dmitri's mind raced frenziedly considering all potential scenarios and consequences. While his Emperor maintained cordial smiles in public, that gleaming blade swung beneath could destroy the unwise. He knew well Childe's mercurial nature—charming one moment, savage the next if challenged. Combined with Shiva's openly imperious streak, this encounter has disaster written in its stars.

By the time the duo reached the chamber doors, sweat dripped down Dmitri's pale face. Taking a moment to compose himself, he sent up a fervent prayer to any deity listening.

All his diplomatic prowess seemed like tattered silk amidst the hurricane that was about to collide in the drawing room. Only one held the power to steer these storms to calmer waters—Her Majesty Empress (Y/N). Time and again, Dmitri has seen you easily maneuver the most stubborn of men to your will, employing but a look or word. If fortune is on his side, perhaps your radiant presence has calmed their ruffled quills within.

The guards straightened as Childe's purposeful steps stopped right in front of the towering door. With a practiced announcement, the first cried:

“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, Childe, Sovereign Emperor of Snezhnaya!”

Instantly, the heavy portals swung inward under the straining muscles, hinges moving as smoothly as the tides. Inside, soft lamplight bathes a tapestry scene of tranquility. Marble floors gleamed ahead, inviting new visitors into the drawing room.

From the presence of two new people, you looked up from your tea. "Ajax, you've come!" Your beautiful face lit up with joy upon seeing Childe enter.

Your beaming smile helped ease tension from Childe's rigid frame. Walking over, he went to your side and took your hand in his. “Wife,” he greeted, smiling lips placing a kiss on your knuckles. You truly are his sun, chasing away all the shadows in his soul and decorating his heart with gold carvings.

Ah, right.

Although resentment still simmered within at Shiva's unwelcome visit, Childe knew very well the game had to be played. So, with considered effort, he molded his expression into a faux friendliness. The smile rings the bells of falsity to those closely observing, but to the untrained eye, it may pass.

Turning to Shiva, Childe addressed him in smooth tones, “Brother,” he said, feeling like cutting off his own tongue. “It's been too long.”

Shiva's return greeting comes short with an absence of warmth. Leveling Childe with an unwavering stare, he replied, “Indeed. Though some absences feel shorter than others.”

A hint of irritation flashed across Childe's features at Shiva's sly jab. But, years of training to become Snezhnaya's future successor had schooled his temper. A mirthless chuckle rose from his throat as he replied.

“Brother, ever the lapdog snapping at anything that moves without caring for the mess left behind. Is solitude wearing on you? No wonder you ache for stimulation.”

Shiva’s eyes flashed at the provocation. “Careful little wolf, your words reveal more about yourself than I,” he retorted coolly. “At least I don’t go snarling rabidly at any who threaten my fleas. Liyue has prospered without incident under my watch. Can the same be said for your frozen wasteland?”

Childe's faux-smile vanished, the mask evaporates revealing the devil beneath. “Snezhnaya has thrived despite constant meddling from supposed ‘allies.’ Perhaps if certain neighbors attended their own affairs instead of sniffing mine, they'd find less cause for petty complaints.” He gritted his teeth.

Shiva scoffed. “It must sting that even your neighbors consider you an annoyance.”

As the emperors' argument grew more heated, your expression changed from beaming joy to stern annoyance.

“Enough, both of you.” Your voice rang clearly, cutting through the tension and instantly capturing their attention. Those beautiful eyes, usually warm as spring sun, now glinted cool. “Honestly, I expected more maturity from my husband and brother. If you have problems remaining civil, remove yourselves from my presence.”

At your sharp words, both Childe and Shiva looked abashed, like puppies being scolded from tearing pillows, tails wagging between their legs. You had united two nations through their marriage where once only hostility stood; yet now the proud rulers of two empires are quarreling in what should be a quiet evening full of warm tea and fires. With a weary sigh, you massage your temples as if you were physically hurt by their foolishness.

You see Shiva about to open his mouth to deliver another biting retort—always wanting to have the last word—but, with a sharp stare, his jaw closes again.

"Say another word and you will regret it." you are warned in a low tone laced with threats.

With a lovely smile on his lips, Childe turned to you, hoping to win you over to his side. “Angel,” he purred, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles—Shiva wanted to spill his guts at the sight. “You know how your brother enjoys provoking me. I meant no disrespect.”

Shiva scoffed but dared not test his luck with your anger still on him. Childe ignored the sound, focusing completely on appeasing his wife.

You narrowed your eyes. "You're not completely innocent in this, Ajax." You reminded him.

“But, love—”

Childe was interrupted when you raised your index finger to shush him. "And I've thought about it for a while," you say, pausing to get both men's attention with your poignant tone. “We'll use the duration of Shiva's stay here as time for you to reconnect without titles between you. As family, not rulers. Which is why you and Shiva will accompany me on my trip to Zelenossosh.”

Immediate protests erupted from both men.

“Spend leisure with him?” Childe grunted, jerking a thumb at Shiva. “You ask too much, love.”

Shiva sneered. “As if I wanted some time alone with the mongrel Emperor and his ilk.”

“Gentlemen, peace, please. And I've decided," you said firmly. “This trip is not optional. We will leave in three days, and you will spend the entire time there bonding over the activities of my choosing. No politics or policies are allowed to be discussed.”

“But sister! This is—”

“(Y/N), anything but—”

A dramatic gasp came out of you, surprising both of them. “Oh my, is it that time already?” You mused, stretching your muscles gracefully, pretending to be tired of your duties. “Ajax, Shiva, please excuse me as I retire for my evening bath. My handmaidens, help an exhausted Empress to her chambers, if you please.”

Your two handmaidens appear, hurry to aid you in your “weariness.” But, the twinkling eyes said otherwise as you smiled over your shoulder.

“Try to get along without me, won't you, Your Majesties?” you said in faux-innocence.

With barely veiled amusement, you watch them tense up at the prospect of forced solo interactions. Chuckling softly to yourself, you walk out with a satisfied smile, escorted by your lovely ladies-in-waiting.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick like sour milk after your absence lifted the veil of politeness. The two men managed to maintain the first ten seconds in silence, avoiding each other's gaze like tomcats dropped in a sack together. Jaws locked. Teeth were gritted and the last bit of patience was running out.

Shiva sat tensely, fingers clenched, creating crescent prints in his palms as he glared daggers at Childe from the corners of his eyes. "This is your doing, Wolf."

Childe snorted, delicate eyebrow arched. “My doing? Tell me, how so.” He met his gaze.

“You intend to poison my sister's mind against me with your honeyed lies,” Shiva hissed.

An ugly sneer curled Childe’s lip. “The only poison here is your constant meddling in affairs that don’t concern you. If you hadn’t come nosing around Snezhnaya again—”

“Nosing around?” Shiva bellowed, face turning purple. “You got my sister pregnant without my permission! How dare you impregnate her without my blessing. What if something had gone wrong, huh? It’s all your fault!”

Childe gritted his teeth, growing frustrated with Shiva's overprotective attitude. “She is my wife, not some decorative pet you own. And do I need to remind you that children are a normal part of marriage, or is it not like that where you come from?”

“Don't twist this to your advantage, wolf,” Shiva stood up from his chair, pointing a slanderous finger at Childe. “I see your game—you made her so early with child to tie her to you forever, admit it!”

Those dull blue eyes gleamed with fury directly above a grin. "Ha! Is this what your deranged mind contemplates consistently?" He crossed his arms and reclined on the couch as his gaze trained on Shiva's emotional turmoil.

“You think to use her body for your ambitions of an heir!”

Breaking through the restraint he possessed, the ginger-haired man swiftly rose to his feet and prowled towards the Liyue Emperor. Though nearly equal in height and build, his explosive temper made him seem to tower over Shiva in that moment. A cruel, wrathful smile twisted his lips as blue orbs darkened with barely contained fury.

“Say that to my face again,” Childe dared in a deadly quiet tone. “It would be my honor to educate that foul tongue of yours once and for all.”

Shiva met his furious gaze, steady as stone. “Withdraw your implication or face the consequences, dog.”

A loud scoff came out of Childe, his famed patience was dragged wildly and almost completely evaporated. Fists clenched tightly, knuckles bleached, straining with the effort to resist lashing out—he knew it would only benefit Shiva, that the Liyue dog would use it as an opportunity to take your sympathy to his side. But every pore and disciplined muscle screams for release, to put this peacock in its place through whatever it takes.

“I've wanted nothing more than to rearrange that handsome face of yours since we met,” Childe threatened, cracking his knuckles with malicious intent.

To his surprise, Shiva threw back his head and laughed—a deep, ironic chuckle. The Liyuean bent over to select a dessert fork laid out on the table. Twirling the utensil dexterously between his long fingers, Shiva straightened his back and shot Childe a look from under lowered lashes.

“Is that so? Well, you’re not entirely wrong—I am rather easy on the eyes.”

“You really want to do this, don't you?” Childe's query didn't seek confirmation, rather, it served as a last warning before he enacted his plan to "resculpt" that stunning jaw into something no better than the monument commemorating the demise of the last Duke of Krykiye, a statue that ultimately ceased to exist due to being considered government treason.

Shiva flashed a shark's smile, dessert fork now hidden in his fist. “Then come – take your best shot, little Emperor. Let's see if your skills live up to that big mouth of yours."

The sly words were the final shards to break Childe's crumbling restraint. Damn it! To damnation with patience and consequences! He vowed, in the name of his late father, to pummel Shiva's appearance, rearranging it until it remained unrecognizable to the point where he could never return to Liyue and rule the empire again. The ideal circumstance is that he would be deported and branded as an impostor claiming to be the Liyue emperor who had “abruptly” disappeared after traveling to Snezhnaya. Go to hell with it all. With a wordless snarl, he lunged, fists flying—

“Sir Dmitri arrived just in time, it seems. His Majesty and Emperor Shiva appeared quite.. animated in their exchange.”

From the news delivered by Sasha, you opened your eyes and raised an eyebrow, not completely surprised. Laura's efforts in lifting your burden all day with her slender fingers massaging your temples and head are wasted on the confirmation of Childe and Shiva returning to their squabbles almost immediately after you departed from their presence. The bathing chambers are luxuriously designed to soothe tired muscles. Floating flower petals in warm water soaking your naked body does little to ease your stress.

"Was anybody hurt?"

You look at Sasha and receive a shake of the head. "Fortunately," you are informed, "Sir Dmitri is quite skilled in managing those types of situations. The two have retired to their personal quarters."

You sigh. “Those foolish men. Put them in one room and watch the entire house burn down.” You said.

Sasha nodded in agreement. “Men will be men, I'm told.”

You relaxed into the pillowy embrace of bubbles, warm water soaking your shoulders, while Laura rinsed the last of the shampoo from your long hair. With a gentle hand, you begin stroking your swollen belly, silently musing at the child growing inside.

“Please don't take after your father and uncle, little one,” you said wryly. “I pray you inherit my calm rather than their hot tempers and their thirst for contention and chaos.”

Countess Sasha chuckled softly at your candid words. “Fate itself knows what traits Snezhnaya's successor will claim. We can only hope that their generosity and diplomacy will outweigh their recklessness.” She spoke, and the ladies shared a grin.

Maybe it's time for you to journey to a temple and make an offering that your pleas would be accepted by the gods. If, by some stroke of luck, your child inherited Childe's free-spirited and spontaneous nature, you were practically certain your hair would turn white within a single night's rest. The capital would be unable to withstand the chaos, and Snezhnaya's enemies would be thrown into confusion by the fall of the empire in a short time—sealing their years of fantasizing about its downfall.

Just then, Ksenia entered the bath chamber and rushed to your side carefully. “Your Majesty, the Emperor requests an audience.” She spoke softly as she knelt beside your bathub.

You raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused glance with Sasha. “Speak of the devil..” You mumbled, then sighed. “Fine, let him in.”

Soon, Childe was swept into the bathroom, still dressed in his royal clothes. His face softened at the sight of you, but then he frowned in confusion at the others. "Why are they all in here?" he asked.

"They kept me good company, unlike certain emperors who desired to declare war every time they met."

Childe huffed. “It wasn't entirely my doing—Shiva provoked me, you know that. If it weren't for my wisdom, we would've come to blows.” He tried to reason.

You raised a skeptical brow. "I was under the impression that Dmitri was the one who intervened and separated you two?"

“Through Dmitri, yes – but his position comes from my leadership. Therefore, the credit is mine.”

A fond yet tired sigh escaped your lips. Truly, managing this Emperor and all the nonsensical things he does is a feat in itself. When others only see him as nothing more than his pretty surface, you take the time to discern what's bothering him underneath, allowing your steady voice to help guide him to calmer ports. His charisma and strategic mind have garnered a lot of respect; but beneath, his soul still yearns for adventure on the battlefield where he excels. It stirs wild impulses that defeat calmer and rational thinking in heated moments.

But you see, Childe was trying to grow out of his old self to become a better emperor for the empire. Where violence was once his first tongue, patience and diplomacy now speak louder through his efforts. He'll continue abandoning rashness like battered armor outgrown, and you'll be there every step of the way.

“You know how he plucks my strings, angel.”

As Childe spoke those words to you, his hand rose to his collar. Slowly, deliberately, he began to unbutton his royal shirts one by one. He eases the heavy fabric from his broad shoulders in a single, practiced motion, revealing his numerous scars—a history that is reluctant to be forgotten on his skin. And he was beautiful precisely because he was battle-tested yet unbroken.

Your ladies-in-waiting took the cue to discreetly gather towels and depart with flushed smiles. Childe unbuckled and threw the belt behind him without a care. He approached you, and your gaze roamed over your husband's nearly naked body in awe. The skin is smooth and light, muscles defined yet free of excess bulk. Years of combat had honed his physique to its peak.

The chiseled 'V' leads down from his waist to where his trousers clung low on his hips. Blocks like smoothed stone make a square on the stomach, not overly large but firm under the touch. You remember fond nights tracing their lines with fingers or lips, feeling them contract at your actions.

"But for you both, my love, I will try to keep a calm head."

With feline grace, Childe stepped into the bath, causing the waters to surge. You smiled and shifted forward invitingly to give him room. He settled behind you, long legs flanking your form, and circling your swollen middle with strong yet gentle arms. The warmth is placed on your exposed shoulder as he kisses it affectionately. You lean back with a sigh, nestling your damp hair against his collarbone. He kissed your temple, one large hand spread protectively over the unborn babe within.

“Don't worry, your promise will be put to the test when the three of us leave for Zelenossosh later.” You said and Childe let out an exaggerated groan and buried his face in the crook of your neck, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

Within three days, the three of you will head for Zelenossosh. A rational individual would say that it would be unwise to proceed with this plan - Childe is a troublemaker, and pairing him with Shiva's fiery temper is a risky undertaking. Even if you decide to travel to Zelenossosh, a location known for its tranquil appearance, composed of pretty hills and beaches, it will probably turn into another loud argument – just with a prettier backdrop this time!

Only time will tell what the fate of their traveling party will be, and you can only pray that it will end with more joy than murder.

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[fagckity]

quackity x ftm reader

Stress Relief

you and alex have been dating for almost 2 years, and you finally managed to move together.

alex isn’t a very social guy, he likes having time alone for himself, so even tho you two sleep together, your offices were separated so you could have time alone during the day.

Alex was usually the one who got stressed out the most, different projects, either done by him or his friends, or some hateful comments. When he was stressed you were the most loving boyfriend in world and you made sure he felt good. Sometimes you would blow him so that all the stress would go away at that moment, or maybe ride him.. anything to make him feel good.

But these days there were a lot of things that were stressing you out, uploading videos and college, and it was all overwhelming you. Alex notice that you weren’t being that excited about anything anymore, you used to yap about your day at night before you two went to sleep, but this last days, he just found you sleeping before your usual bedtime.

After realizing this, Alex had an idea. He decided to finish work earlier that day so he could at least awake at night.

he went to your shared room and he find you laying the bed looking at your phone.

You had dark circles under your eyes and visually you were overwhelmed by stress, Alex let out a giggle and hugged you from behind letting out a chuckle. He started kissing your neck and making you drop your cell phone. You were tired so you blurted out a rather cold reply, "What do you want...?" - you growled, Alex started to bite and suck your neck a little harder, until you couldn't be upset anymore, you just let yourself go.... 

And from one moment to the next he was on top of you completely naked as he pulled down your pajama shorts and put your legs over his shoulders. Before you could say anything he said a sweet “shhh príncipe stay still I will be gentle okay?” — and you nodded, giving him consent to keep going.

He started thrusting slowly in and out of your sloppy and wet cunt, alex noticed how it was squeezing him in and oh god it felt amazing for both you. — “oh my god..- I forgot how wet you can be chiquito.. puta madre..” — both of you were feeling amazing, Alex started going quicker than before and also started rubbing your clit trying to make you cum.. which was weird cause he always wanted the moment to last.. but you didn’t complain.

after a few minutes you couldn’t hold it any longer and let out a pathetic moan “Alex.. I.. I am close.. fuck..” — he nodded, he was also a moaning mess, as if he was the one getting fucked. — “me too baby.. oh my god..” — you came first, and quickly after that, Alex came inside you.

He pulled out, and thought it was over, you were panting and trying to take deep breaths until you felt him thrust inside again.. this time with no time to adjust, he just started thrusting at the same quick pace he had literally one minute ago. It was too much for you. — “Ale.. I can’t..” — you whimpered, he laughed between breaths and said — “shh don’t worry, I know you can. I just need to make sure to fuck every little stressing thought out of that pretty little brain okay?” — you could just moan and nod as a response, the feeling was amazing but it was a bit overwhelming. — “Good boy.” — he said.

this continued for hours, or at least you felt like it. You have lost the count of how many times he made you cum, you weren’t even thinking anymore, you were dumbfounded by his cock to the point you could only mumble non sense. Alex was definitely good in what he is doing, and it felt amazing.

You two finally couldn’t do anything more, both of you were tired, Alex gently pulled out and kissed your head. Carrying you to the bathroom and cleaning you up, at that moment you were just saying incoherent things and Alex was laughing at it as he took good care of you, like the amazing boyfriend he is. ———————-

This is my first post omg, I have this thing written since probably last week but I was embarrassed to create an account to share my delusional latenight thoughts.

it’s 8pm in London and it’s really cold aaa

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Before we get to the story I have a few words to say...

First of all, Hello!

Not sure if this will reach anyone, but I had an itch to write, so I did. I almost never post anything. I have reposted a couple things but I'm mostly a lurker and enjoy others creativity and thoughts, I like to think of myself as a cat with few brain cells.

Anyways, I read a manga YEARS ago and enjoyed it greatly and thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny/interesting if Jon and Damian were stuck in this situation?" Let's see if anyone eventually gets what manga I was reminiscing.

Now, this is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written and I am not confident AT ALL if this is going to be any good, but I really hope someone out there enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...Also not sure if I should post it on Ao3???

Well enough of my ramblings on to the story.

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Jon placed his lunch tray next to Kathys’ as he discreetly looked around the lunch room trying to catch a glimpse of his crush. He had only briefly seen him at the mall during summer break and in a panic hid from him behind a rack of clothes. He had regretted not saying hello and had daydreams of himself going up to him, all cool and complementing the brown eyed boy’s pink fluffy hair and then asking him out to watch a movie at the mall theater. Sadly, the daydreams would come crashing down when he remembered his mother placing shirts in front of him and trying to measure him up before heading into the dressing room. It’s not that he was embarrassed of his mom its just, he was wearing sweats and an old hoodie since none of his clothes fit him anymore due to his growth spurt and, well, his mom could be a bit much, sometimes. Throughout the whole shopping trip when she would meet an acquaintance or friend she kept gushing about how quick kids grew and how she wished they would just stop sometimes. Jon would have to bury himself if anyone from school had been exposed to that.

“Looking for Jay?” Kathy asked. Jon looked at Kathy like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately turned red. He sat down abruptly causing his tray to nearly tip unto him. He scrambled to right his milk carton before it fell. Once settled, he sighed and mumbled, “That obvious?” Kathy smirked and bit into her carrot stick making a loud snap. Jon squirmed while opening his milk carton, he took a big swing, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s stare. “Why don’t you just confess?” Kathy asked. “Confess?” Jon spluttered, “He doesn’t even know I exist!” “Jon, you two were in the same history class last year. He knows who you are.” “Yeah. But we never talked.” “Then, how about you talk to him?” That would be so awkward…” Jon bit into his chicken strip. Kathy rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Jon smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, “But I have a plan.” “And that is?” “I’m joining the journalism club.” “What!” Kathy yelled in surprise and then moderated her voice when some people who she startled glared at her, “ I thought you were going to join the baseball team this year, since, you know, your not in a cast anymore.” “The doctor has given the all clear and physical therapy is all done. The doctor was very impressed with how quickly I healed.” “Will they even let you do both clubs?” “Yep, I asked!” Their conversation was cut short when a murmur spread through the cafeteria like a wave. The main players of the baseball team stepped through the open double doors, all nine wearing their letterman jackets. In the lead was the most popular guy in school, Damian Wayne. Whose father was nicknamed the Prince of Gotham. Who in turn married an actual princess from some far off land, giving Damian actual royal blood. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him, but from what Jon had heard, guys wanted him too. Damian’s bright green eyes stood out against his brown skin, his gold earring glinted under the florescent light. He scanned the cafeteria with what looked like a sense of boredom. Colin, Jon called him Damian’s second in command, had one arm casually draped around Damian’s shoulders gesticulating wildly with his free hand. The group laughed at whatever the Colin said, but Damian only smiled as he started walking towards their unofficial table. Colin and the rest of the group broke off shoving and cracking jokes at each other while making line to pick up food. Kathy whistled beside Jon, “Now he’s someone who doesn’t know you exist.” “He looks and probably is, conceited.” Jon said offhandedly. “Look at him, he has reason to be.” “Doesn’t mean it’s cool.” “Doesn’t mean he’s not hot.” Jon turned to look at Kathy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she was looking in Damian’s direction. Jon looked around and noticed that many were doing the same. He dragged his eyes back to look at Damian. The dude sat straight backed, elegantly eating his homemade meal from some fancy lunch bag that was probably more expensive than anything Jon owned, and scrolling on his phone completely ignoring the many eyes staring at him. Colin returned with the rest of the group nudging Damian and dropping his lunch tray with a loud smack, receiving an unimpressed glare in return. Colin smiled and placed a fruit cup in front of Damian. Jon personally didn’t get the allure. The couple of times he had seen Damian interact with others it was usually acerbic. Somehow that did not lessen his popularity and it left Jon dumbfounded. I good person should be good to others and being polite was a given, his Grandma said so and she was never wrong. Jon shrugged and went back to eating his school lunch. The rest could keep Damian he very much preferred Jay.

I hope you enjoyed it! Will post more soon, hopefully.

[christelightlavo]

My Ever-so changing opinions : TV show version

I will go from the two most controversial (in my opinion) to going over one by one.

You love but everyone hates : Riverdale, it's more wattpad then the actual wattpad movies ya know??? Do I take the series seriously? No. Do I like it as a series for its storytelling, characters? Not even a bit. Do I find it so entertaining because it's like it's written by a suger high seven year old who just loves sex? Yeah. It's like being high without the weed. The story is shit, the characters are shit but when you off all your brain cells and just watch. It becomes my favorite wattpad comedy.

You hate but everyone loves : Big bang theory, I have the opposite feeling with this one. I love the characters, they are iconic but I can't help but take them seriously ya know? The show is for nerds but it makes fun of nerds. It's dated in some areas and honestly ever romantic relationship except Amy and Sheldon made me very uncomfortable. But even so, I genuinely likes the characters so much so that Young Sheldon is in my top 10 TV shows.

Favorite TV show : Heartstopper, my heart stoped watching this. I am a simple bi girl who was SO DAMN happy with Nick. I am a simple girl, who loves Charlie's story. I am a simple girl who compared my bff with Teo. I am a simple girl who may or may not have a mini crush on Ellie--- you get my point.

Favorite protagonist : Fiona from shameless, I like her. She is like very comforting and loving but bites and is just tired you know? Like she was one of the first protagonists to make me cry. Shameless is pretty much a series that has many main character's but Fiona is the center head of the story in my opinion.

Favorite Deuteragonist : stiles stilinski from Teen Wolf, I am a very simple girl.

Favorite Antagonist : Void stiles from Teen Wolf, a very very simple girl.

Best story : Anne with an E, whenever I see someone talking about this series they mainly focus on the romance which is pretty good but the characters, their stories and the messages are genuinely great. I like almost everything about this story. That being said, I am still watching it, I am a slow watcher give me a break but from what I see, This is worth the watch.

Favorite Intro : Got a secret. Can you keep it swear on this one you'll save~ better lock it in your pocket, taking this one to the grave~ *nostalgia rushing in me.

Have not watched but want to : Young royals, I have heard it's good. The cast seems intriguing but I just didn't have the time :-(

Best cinematography : Stranger Things season 3.

Favorite ending : Heartstopper season 3.

Favorite season : Teen wolf season 3B.

Favorite pilot episode : Pretty little liars, the first episode brought in so much intrigue and levels of mystery that me who watched it after it's downfall was hooked. Even though I knew it would lead to shitty reveals, it is still very well done.

Favorite episode : Big time rush, last episode. It made me smile.

Would like to watch again : Hannah Montana, I miss my childhood.

Would never watch again : Riverdale, do I find it funny? Yeah. Will I watch it again? Nope.

Favorite plot twist : Young Sheldon, George senior not actually cheating on Mary and it being just Mary cosplaying. They did it very well and made it believable to why Sheldon as an adult would still believe that George cheated while maintaining that the man was a loving father and husband. It also hit hard after his death.

Should have more attention : Anne with an E. And also heartstoppers but it already does thankfully.

*points at @fandom-stealer * do your thing.

[imawreck]

Interrogation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Ghost's mind is a garbled puzzle of memories, and the once familiar face of the Winter Soldier is somehow the same and different in her eyes.

Author's Note: Hey, sorry for the spam, but I'm really excited to keep getting these chapters out! I have most of this story written, and I'll try to keep it to two posts a week minimum. I'll probably post more frequently on this series for a while though, so expect a lot! This is also the first part in this series that goes into Ghost's perspective, and it'll switch from now on. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Mild gore, italicized words when speaking different languages to each other

Word Count: 1,350

Ghost-

The pain resonating through my body helped to ground my scattered mind. I was familiar with the after affects of cryosleep, and was no stranger to memory loss. Waking up with a scrambled brain, surrounded by strangers, was a normalcy of sorts. But seeing him again made everything different.

I had watched him kiss death, watched the life flicker in and out of his eyes as I tried to keep him alive on that battlefield. I thought that I would never see him again. Seeing him reminded me of the missions spent alone, the glimpses of his former self, the man who I knew existed in him but had rarely seen for myself. I knew the asset, knew him better than anyone. And he knew me.

Seeing him like this, open and filled with emotions was foreign. This was not the Asset I knew.

There were feelings that I didn't understand stirring in my chest, confusing feelings that made my heart hammer and my skin sweat. They made me furious. But then he was there. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there. His footsteps were confident, and the subtle whir of his metal arm was impossible for me to mistake for anything, anyone else. I had to know that I could get to him, that I could make it to him if something went wrong. I still wasn't sure if I could trust these people.

So I stood, walking over to the wall of this strange cage, analyzing it for its weak points. The assets words- no, his orders- resonated suddenly in my mind. "Do not engage."

I knew my mission, I knew that I had to complete it no matter the cost. I was created to protect the Asset. If listening to him somehow protected him, then I would listen. But I had to know that I could get to him. I eyed the sealed edges of the cell, gaging how much power I would have to put behind my fist to successfully dislodge them, shatter them if I could, and I threw my arm into it. Two broken knuckles, but the wall cracked. Another two and I would be free, fully capable of getting through the metal door separating me from the Asset.

A feeling of slight relief filled me as I returned to my position against the wall, continuing my gaze at the door just beyond my cell. I could still hear the whirring of his arm, knew he was watching me with pensive eyes. He wouldn't remember me, he would if this was a hydra organization. But things were different, he was different, and it had been such a long time since we had seen each other. He trusted these people, meaning they definitely weren't hydra. The Asset had always been uptight around them. Here he was more relaxed, kind, and spoke for himself. It was clear to me that he viewed these people as allies.

For the time being, I would regard them as allies of my own. If the Asset thought they were trustworthy, then I will trust his judgment.

A stampede of footsteps stormed outside the door and voices raised. I listened as they fired off questions to the Asset concerning my containment. They discussed what I could've done, but didn't. Considered my actions as a way of communicating. And it was, in some aspects. When he asked me if I could hear him, I nodded. I listened to Captain America as he spoke to the Asset, calling him by an unfamiliar name again. Bucky. I bounced the name around a few times in my head, trying to feel for any sense of familiarity, but I couldn't remember any. I must have never known him by that name.

A few moments of silence passed before something outside the door beeped and I heard the lock on the door slide out of position. I watched as his tall form entered slowly, hesitantly, and closed the door behind him. Steely blue eyes stared at the crack in the cell wall, and glided along its lines before landing back on me. There was fear there. It was such a shock to me that I flinched, unable to process what I could've done wrong or why he was scared of me. I hadn't meant to scare him. I frowned, keeping my eyes on him as he approached the wall across from where I was seated.

"They want me to talk to you, ask you some questions." His voice was deep, but it was softer than it used to be.

I just stared at him, this person I used to think I knew and yet didn't know at the same time.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I knew. "Do you know where you are?"

"No." My Russian was gravely, voice raw from disuse.

He was avoiding my eyes. Looking at the cot a few feet from me. "This is the Avengers tower in New York."

I tensed, suddenly reminded of all the missions where Hydra's agents were sought after and killed by the Heroes. I nodded.

"They won't hurt you, as long as you cooperate with us. We just want to help you and understand your situation."

Us. He was with them. He had traded sides. A wave of relief washed over me  as I took a needed breath, letting my shoulders drop a notch in relief.

He continued the interrogation, "What year were you born?"

"I don't know." I furrowed my brows, gaze still trained on the man behind the glass.

He seemed to be saddened by my response, a frown drawing onto his face. "Do you know where you came  from? What your life was like before Hydra?"

I stared at him, long and hard. Somehow trying to will him to remember me through the glass between us. "My life is Hydra," I respond in English. I stand, slowly, watching his shoulders tense and his fists clench. "I was born in the facility from what I know, and raised to fight as the shield of Hydra. My life's mission is to protect the Assets." I took steady steps towards the glass and stopping just in front of him. Only the glass separating us. "I have no life outside of it."

I watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, eyes trained on his features. He had shown so much emotion up until now, but his face had gone blank and a fire had lit behind his eyes. "Stark won't let you out of here until he's sure you're not a risk to the team. We're not sure if they made you like me, and he doesn't want to take any chances-"

"I'm not like you." The words came out soft and abruptly, pushing their way out from my throat, bypassing the years of training and fear of punishment.

His brows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

I had to remind myself he was not with Hydra anymore, taking a breath before continuing. "I do not have activation commands." I gripped my palms, digging my nails into the meat of my hand. My broken knuckles ached at the movement. "Everything I have done was willing at one point, until you." I sucked in a breath, trying to hold back the train of memories crashing around my head. "They had to find alternative ways to make me comply after that."

He hesitated, obviously seeing that the topic was touchy for me. "After what?"

I steeled myself, stuffing down the memories and emotions that came with them. "After Commander Strucker made me watch them wipe your mind."

He still had questions for me, I could tell, but that statement struck him hard. His face contorted in horror and realization- of what, I'm not sure- and he physically stumbled back. I dropped my gaze, backing away from the glass. "I will not engage. I will comply to any given command." Those words were meant for the others, another message of sorts.

He nodded, eyes foggy and far off before he turned and left the room. I slumped back against the wall after I heard the door click, and waited, watching the skin of my knuckles slowly stitch itself back together.

[eldritch-spouse]

HELLOOOOO (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

First of all, i love ur content so much holy shit, like just the world building is amazing but also the really well written characters AND THE LORE, so good, just *chef's kiss* and the fact English is not ur first language always takes me by surprise bc your writing is so good 🙏 like I love reading about ocs and the likes, but yours is definitely my favourite :')

Seconly, I'm here on my knees,asking, if perhaps you could write a small fic/more headcanons on how it'll be like to be in a poly relationship with Obie,Mervin, and Ludwig?

You wrote about it slightly before and since then i couldn't take it out of my brain😔

P.S- i wonder, how long did you have the idea about Krulu and Admin, and The Clergy, and the entire wrold-building before you decided to publish it on Tumblr?

Anyway, that is all, HAVE A GOOD NIGHT/MORNING AND A GREAT CHRISTMAS 🥰💜💜🥳🥳🥳😚😚

[AAAhjldc- Thenk, that genuinely makes me shriek with happiness, I'm glad you're enjoying the stuff! I can't really do ya a fic in a timely manner, so I'm going to ramble if you don't mind. :V]

It's already been discussed that Ludwig is the first one to meet you, and interacting with him on his own is nothing out of ordinary. You'd never expect that he has two other, utterly insane siblings, that he's in fact just as batshit mental, just better at hiding it. Truly, putting all three together is the key to seeing their true nature.

While Lud is the one to introduce you to his brothers, Mervin is actually the first one that'll declare this dynamic a relationship. There will be a lot of confusion for you initially, as you're getting swayed into romantic situations with each of the brothers seemingly behind the other's back. You're likely to reach a breaking point, and confront all three about it- Only to have the fork tell you something among the lines of "What do you mean, dipshit?! We've all been dating you for weeks now." And while it's far from a gentle nudge, if he hadn't told you that to the face, the other brothers would have taken much longer to make a statement.

The most affectionate of the bunch is Obie. Out of the trio, he's got the less hangups about physical touch and will often drape himself over you like a blanket. Lud and Merv definitely think he overdoes it and will make efforts to either join or rip you away from the glutton. This is easier said than done.

Ludwig and Mervin will be investing in your self-defense skill, as you'll eventually be brought into the Common Ring of Hell to meet Katia. Mervin teaches you directly how to fight with or without weapons, and your opponent is almost always Ludwig, because it kind of gets him off to fight you. By the end of this, you'll be able to hopefully buy yourself some time if a more powerful demon attempts to make a victim out of you.

Katia is a very nice lady who's just happy to see her boys found love, you'll be accepted into her heart without issue and you'll definitely get to see the ever elusive baby demon pictures. There's nothing cuter than seeing a picture of baby Ludwig putting Mervin in a chokehold while Obie's standing by their side, casually eating a pillow. That album is a bit cursed... But Katia does want a picture of you four together! Speaking of, she's here when you have trouble with any of them okay? If they start getting any funny ideas, she's just a call away. You're likely to be quickly escorted away by the three heathens when sloth mama starts mentioning grandkids.

Ludwig is the designated piggyback ride giver.

Obie is oftentimes oblivious to your flirts, Mervin has to hit him over the head and whisper the obvious.

It may seem like Mervin has more brain cells, but he does not, that's Ludwig's unwanted privilege. Nonetheless, the prideful demon often spearheads most outings.

Mervin is somehow more easily flustered than Obie by your antics. The hardest to fluster is Ludwig, but when it does happen, he gets quiet and extremely blushy, so pat yourself in the back.

As mentioned before, fighting between them over the smallest thing is common, and even healthy for demons, but some fights will be started purely because they want you to wedge in-between and give them attention.

Obie is the one that lends you clothes the most, although Mervin disagrees with this because the glutton is a "slob" and "has no taste".

The three are trying to decipher how to propose to you and can't reach an agreement. Ludwig argues they should polish the skulls of their enemies and put the wedding ring on one of the horns. Mervin can't afford the ring he wants so he's just going to steal it. With a lot of effort. Obie wants to do it with a massive feast that'll put even Vorticia to shame. Needless to say, it's going to be a very bizarre proposal.

I can't think of more right now, but you can always ask. <:1

[r0s3s26]

Match up for…@jae-pudding

<3 Your boyfriend is…..Tsukishima Kei!

<3 You for real just found your twin bro

<3 Y'all would be menaces together oh my lord

<3 You and tsukishima have a lot of similar traits in personality, which would make it easier for you guys to click first

<3 Ok mini backstory cause I had an idea

<3 I'm gonna say that you two probably met in highschool and where an exchange student that just moved to miyagi

<3 You were in tsukishima's class and were sat next to him

<3 Some group of kids would be being really loud and annoying near you and you would just start glaring and side eyeing the FUCKKK outta them, which made tsuki giggle ngl

<3 What really made him drawn to you though is how intelligent you are

<3 When he was at karasuno on the volleyball team, he was always surrounded by idiots

<3 Every conversation with Noya, Hinata, Tanka, or Kageyama melted his brain cells

<3 So when you were around and would strike a intelligent conversation with him, it was like a breath of fresh air

<3 Anyways back to the present/time-skip

<3 You are a lot more outgoing in the way you go about yourself, which helps tsukishima explore the world a bit more

<3 Tsukishima would drag you to different museums around japan and become your personal tour guide for each one

<3 Wanted to travel more but need a push, your the push

<3 I think his love languages are Words of affirmation and gift giving

<3 Would get you little trinkets and matching things

<3 Wait yall with matching dino keychain>>> so cute

<3 It takes a while for Tsukishima to start opening up more with his emotions and become more emotionally smart in a relationship

<3 He is mainly scared of just messing something up. So he starts bottling stuff in and putting up fake facades to seem ok. But once your like “Hey man, talk to me, its ok” all the walls come crashing

<3 Ok back to positive stuff

<3 His favorite date is to sit at an outdoor cafe(new one every couple weeks or so) and people watch

<3 Your favorite date is going to different cities and or towns in japan

<3 Overall you both work very well for each other

Blurb (Tsukishima's POV):

It's dark outside by the time practice ends. I feel gross with how sweaty I am and musty the air is in the gym, I need to get out quick. I thank the coach and my captain and quickly leave for the locker room. I sent a quick text to Yuno that i'm gonna be like in 15 minutes. I try to be as quick as possible because we are having a dinner date at a local place in a bit and I don’t wanna be late. After my shower I send another text to Yuno that I'm done and he can meet me outside.

I walk out of the locker room and through the front door to the outside, this is nice. I feel my body temperature cooling down and I can finally somewhat relax. I wait a couple of minutes before I hear yuno calling my name, “Tsuki i'm over here!” I look around for a second to see where he was and I see him at the entrance of the parking lot. I walk over there as quickly as possible. When I walk over to him I pull him in by the waist with one arm and kiss the top of his head, “Wow Tsuki, didn’t realize you missed me so much” Yuno says with a smirk “Oh shut it” I reply back with a small smile “Now lets go”.

(Authors Note: I hope you like it:)) I have written in a couple years so Im still getting the hang of it again lol.)

[santacoppelia]

Aziraphale and Crowley as a detective/magician duo

(this meta has lived as a series of half written notes in my Notes app since August... so it's time!)

One of the things I love the most about Aziraphale and Crowley in both seasons and the book is looking at them solving problems. It is, mostly, what these two are all about:

They have a problem (the Antichrist has arrived, we have misplaced the Antichrist, we have to prevent Armageddon, we need to fool Heaven and Hell, we have Gabriel hidden in the bookshop, we need to save Job's kids, we need to make Nina and Maggie fall in love)

They develop a convoluted plan

They mismanage it (shenanigans ensue, obviously)

They find a way to make it work, nonetheless

When they have no specific problems to solve, they get antsy/bored (look at Crowley and his "what's he point" attitude at the beginning of season 2, and listen to the idea of Aziraphale calling him to "report" his good deeds now that he doesn't have Heaven to report to).

But when they develop and display their convoluted plans, they have different abilities that we have to take into consideration. We know that these two are “complementary”, and that they started being one character a long time ago (my babies!!!), so they have split evenly the use of their brain cells and powers to keep us aware of that. Let's review them, then!

Aziraphale is better with documental research: that was him on season 1, thinking about archives, reviewing the prophecies of Agnes Nutter, cross-referencing the Bible… and that was also what he was doing during season 2 with the newspaper clips: finding a common thread which conducts him to an interesting learning. He develops hypothesis (such as the telephone number on season 1, and The Clue in season 2).

On the other hand, the natural "leg work" detective is Crowley. Aziraphale loved playing the part (that's for another segment!), but Crowley was the one who solved the Jimbriel case in season 2, through asking questions and going to the place where he knew he would find answers. He is the one who knows how to drill, too: he does that all the time with Aziraphale (for example, the first conversation in the coffee) and the "powers of interrogation" he uses with Mary Loquacious and with Jimbriel. His ability to ask great questions becomes more evident when he makes Jim react to his questions though season 2 (my favorite is the “where is your memory?” one). He knows about his talent, too: after the drill, he finally trusts Jim.

I have EXACTLY ONE hypothesis regarding this: Crowley has a special "gift" for asking questions that are going to be truthfully answered. That's why he is the one insisting "ask him PROPERLY!" and then getting to "unlock" Jim's reactions once and again. That's also why he usually is the "bad cop" of our duo: he is used to getting answers doing things his way. I would say that his answer to the sarcastic "you looked into my secret soul" from Nina (when asking about the probability of taking refuge under the awning) was sincere and had to do with this: "Well, that's a knack".

This doesn't mean that Aziraphale cannot get things done!!! Nothing farther from the truth. His special gift for getting people to do things and give him answers has to do with his "nice" side: he makes "strong emotional suggestions". Want some examples? He does this with former Mary Loquacious and with Adam in season 1, and with Mr. Dalrymple and with the men in the cemetery in season 2. Even the invitations and The Ball can be seen as a modality of this... As well as the failure of it when he tries to "convince" Nina and Maggie to forget everything and go with Crowley. That's why he usually is the "good cop".

Another pair of powers that complement one another: while Aziraphale detects love (as stated in season 1), Crowley detects "ethereal forces": he is in charge of reviewing if "there is anyone looking" in season 1 before they undo the body swap, he is the one who checks if the half miracle "took", he is the one who feels the demons coming. Aziraphale usually depends on listening to the signal that angels are visiting to know they are coming, Crowley tends to notice "something's off" earlier than that.

They both are a disaster as undercover agents, as much as they love to do it. However, Crowley tends to be a little better in performing the part (even when he absolutely overdresses for it), while Aziraphale is mostly a lovely "ham". Why do I say this? because both Nanny Ashtoreth and MurderBee! Crowley were visually too much, but his attitude while in disguise is mostly credible (for someone with that look, that is). When we see "undercover" Aziraphale, he is not only overdressed as the stereotype for the part (Brother Francis, Newspaperman, Magician), but he also oversells the part: his voice, his phrases, his movements, his demeanor... Everything in him is upped to eleven. That silly angel warms my heart so much!!! (now I'm thinking about how will he perform the Supreme Archangel role, and if it will be something of the sort. Ouch).

When working together, they mostly share their brain cells. I'll not make the analysis of each and every time they have done this (it would require to make a full analysis of season 1, and I don't have the energy to do so), but I'll make a quick run over what they made together during season 2:

Their first "work" in the season was hiding Jim. Crowley proposes the miracle plan, Aziraphale polishes it, proposing the use of half a miracle each. It works "a little too well".

When working around the Nina + Maggie situation, Aziraphale proposes the romance (with a Jane Austen novel style solution), Crowley tries to polish it (with a Richard Curtis movie solution). They try it in the inverse order: first, Crowley tries his solution because he got the opportunity to do so; it fails (too much rain -> not knowing when to stop). Aziraphale complicates his plan even further, adding the problem they found in the pub (the shopkeeper's association). I believe I've already said somewhere else that yeah, this is an anxious entity biting more than they can chew. The Ball becomes TOO MUCH (again, scarily so -> Aziraphale doesn't know when to stop, either)

If you love "narrative foils" then their next couple of "jobs" are your cup of tea:

Job as their "first job"

Crawly plans it (he saw the flood, so he's trying to use "malicious compliance" to avoid killing everything and everyone)

Then, Aziraphale deduces it (and trusts Crawly's vision and "inherent goodness", even when he tries to act all scary: first just for Aziraphale, then in front of the kids)

They execute the final number alternating the solutions:

Crawly is the obstetrician (magician) who says "trust me" to Sitis (who is nervous and about to condemn all the thing).

Aziraphale is the helper who inserts the ox-ribs in Job's tunic (and indicates their position to Crawly, who is conducting the misdirection). He is the one who will really be fooling the angels.

Crawly puts the lizard children in position, to execute the final part of the trick.

Aziraphale transforms them, without a problem, the crowd cheers.

Then, Job's children spoil things and they have to solve the problem with a little less grace, but it gets Crawly and Aziraphale closer and in the route of becoming a group of the two of them, so everything is alright in the end.

The 1941 magic trick as the foil of Job

Yup. One of our favorite moments :

Azi is the magician who mouths "trust me" (to Crowley)

Crowley is the helper, who will have to shoot and "fool" the audience (pointing to the mouth, shooting past the ear)

When everything is in position, Crowley finds himself weak at the knees. That's when the "trust me" comes handy.

and Crowley does… and shoots. And everything goes well. The crowd cheers.

Then, Furfur and the zombies spoil things and they have to solve the problem with AMAZING grace. That gets Anthony J. Crowley and Aziraphale very back together, thank you very much.

I've already said this in a headcanon that is almost a crack meta: Aziraphale is really good at magic when it counts. When we have the REAL DEAL TRICK, Aziraphale is the magician again, without hamming it (because it is not a role: it is his duty), and no one is ever the wiser about it until it solved the problem.

Would that happen in S3? I hope so. Now that they are apart as far as we know (very probably Aziraphale is in Heaven, while Crowley is still on Earth), they will have to rely on their individual abilities a lot more, before being able to work together again. The sooner they understand how they complement each other, even when they are not close, the better, I guess. And I'm pretty sure there will be a lot of shenanigans, which is one of my main reasons to be there. And love. Love is the main one.

This is closely tied, as most of my metas, with the fanfic I'm writing. Sorry not sorry, that AU is the equivalent of creating a controlled environment and letting them display their "natural abilities" in an unfamiliar space (in the AU case, a non ethereal world). If you are into this exploration, maybe I could interest you in reading that story too?

[radical-sky]

UPDATE: part one is posted on tumblr HERE

Okay fam/friends/mutuals. I have been working on something that I really really want feedback on before I continue. It’s my only foray into Mission: Impossible fic and the first thing I’ve written and put on the internet in 7. I welcome constructive criticism. This is arguably a very, very rough draft and I wrote it entirely on my phone which I’ve never done before. There’s still shaping up to do but I have a good bit more than this written and know how it’s going to play out. Thoughts please? 🫣😮‍💨

Ilsa can’t remember the last time she was tempted to fidget. It’s never been as tempting as it is now, standing in a cold and damp third world prison waiting for Ethan to be brought out to her. Well, not just her. The White Widow stands next to her, her brother not far away. He scowls at Ilsa, not happy to be here and not happy to risk his and his sister’s lives on a job for her. It’s nothing sanctioned (if you or your team are killed or captured you’ll be disavowed) but the moment Benji had finally, finally found Ethan the four of them - Luther, Benji, Ilsa, and even Brandt pulling strings and doing as much as he could behind the scenes - things had moved pretty quickly. Luther or Benji (it doesn’t matter now because they both had been trying their damnedest to get it done) had hacked into the security system on the prison; cameras in every cell, interrogation room, the hallways. Not that any of them needed to see what they were doing to Ethan (in the two weeks since she first saw him on the grainy camera feed it’s all she sees when she closes her eyes, doesn’t need audio to hear his screams and the sounds they rip from his throat, or backdated footage to catalog what tool made each scar or bleeding wound on his body. those pictures will be seared in her brain for all eternity. she wants and yearns and rages at the sacrifice he made for her, for them and falls asleep with a screen playing live footage from his cell in her lap, showing him pressed back into the corner of the tiny cage, curled up protectively, shivering or trembling she can’t tell. wishing she could tell him somehow i’m coming. i will get you out. i haven’t forgotten about you. you’re not disavowed to me. i’m sorry. i’m so terribly sorry ethan). They don’t have to watch the footage for long to decide that any escape that depends on Ethan getting himself out won’t happen. Without government backing and even with Brandt’s help they don’t have the resources or the manpower to storm the prison and break him out. That left one option, and it wasn’t one that any of them liked. The White Widow had been less than thrilled to hear from Ilsa but intrigued at the prospect of mediating an exchange for her. She’d been more willing when she realized John Lark was half the exchange. The team had been up in the air about how to refer to Ethan, but in the end had to believe that Ethan hadn’t revealed himself as an American agent, if he had the terrorists surely would have executed him, or worse, auctioned him to the highest bidder. The White Widow knew him as John Lark, so they kept that identity with her, and insisted that it not be revealed to the terrorists. It’d taken almost a week for the White Widow to get the meet set-up, leaving ample time for the team to get the money gathered (and that part hurt. they’d had ethan for 5 months. 5 months of torturing him and all they wanted was money?). So, now here she is. Not fidgeting. Not twisting her ankle or flexing her calf muscles and imaging she can feel the rods and pins holding her leg together, or the scar where her tibia bone punched through the skin of her calf, not twisting her arm and feeling knitted scars where the bones ground together excruciatingly.

And above all else she’s not resting her hand on the barely there bump on her stomach, the bump invisible and hidden beneath a loose blouse and trench coat. Invisible to everyone that doesn’t know her and Ethan’s secret.

———

The first mission wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was supposed to be easy and wonderful and the start to the greatest partnership of his life.

So of course, like everything else in his life, it went to shit in 5 minutes.

He and Ilsa had never exactly named the thing between them, except that it was theirs. He didn’t tell Benji and Luther (although greatly suspected Luther knew and Benji was suspicious), and Ilsa being a free agent didn’t have anyone to tell. They were each others greatest secret, greatest weakness, greatest compromise. Because they did compromise each other. There was no question after they’d saved each other so many times, sacrificing the mission for them. The Thing started simply - after handing Lane off to MI6 a week spent in London exploring each others bodies carefully around broken ribs and bruised necks (and how he had enjoyed adding his marks to her neck and having her hands lovingly caressing the broken parts of him) telling stories and sharing the private, secret parts of themselves no one else knew - then a night Cape Town, a weekend in Moscow, six hours in Brussels, two days in Paris, traveling 8 hours to spend 4 hours in her hotel room in Athens. Whenever they could and their schedules overlapped enough, or if they even happened to be in the same time zone, they were together.

After Julia, he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way about another woman.

Any chance he could he’d pull her into his missions. Anything to have her by his side. So when Brandt told him Sloane had given him the approval to extend the offer of a permanent position with the IMF - with Ethan’s team - to Ilsa he was perhaps the happiest he’d ever been. The two of them together - partners - properly, permanently.

He never thought he’d be considering marriage again either.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it fell apart. The plan failed. His backup scenarios ran out. There were no more moves, no more chess pieces. So when he wrecked and went down, Ilsa dying in his earpiece, Benji too late and too far away to save her, a part of him, all hope, died with her. When he saw his pursuers approaching he was relieved, he’d never been so ready or willing to meet death than in that moment. To go where Ilsa would be waiting for him. He was already halfway there, a piece of rebar in his chest, internal injuries too numerous to catalogue, his leg didn’t feel right, arm wouldn’t lift. Ethan closed his eyes, ready for the bullet that would end his life. He certainly hadn’t expected them to take him alive, put him in the hospital, and get him just healthy enough he’d survive the torture. Survive he did, but not as Ethan Hunt. As something else, a shell of a human. All hope lost. No prayer of rescue. He knew he was disavowed and no help would be coming. He kept his mouth shut and took what they gave him. Didn’t utter a word except for the screams and shouts when it became too much. He’d already failed everything and everyone else. He couldn’t fail here. Couldn’t stand to betray his country on top of it all.

So when his captors told him he was being traded for goods more valuable than him, he knew he had to end it or escape. He couldn’t do this indefinitely. Eventually he’d break and the shell would crack and he’d be human again. So he plotted and planned, and when they came for him he knew what he had to do. His final plan, the one to end it all.

[ratsoh-writes]

"uh..it's fine, there's barely even a bruise now, you don't have to- that's beside the point!"

Its my turn to look at cash at Mal mentioning he never got a call or text.

I TOLD him to leave Mal a text message, to which he said he definitely would...so either he forgot, or, and the more likely answer, he didn't do as I asked.

My eye twitches in a way that says 'were talking about this later', before I turn back to mal

There's no point in lying.

I sigh.

"okay, you're right..we should've probably left you a message, hell I should've written you a note like I usually do."

I pinch my nose bridge

"Im sorry." I say, my tone genuine.

"of anything does happen like this again in the future, I'll be sure to give you notice." I say, giving a pointed look at cash.

"though I'm sure it won't."

I give a REALLY pointed to look to cash, trying to get him to apologize

-edgy

Cash: …….

Mal:

Wine:

Lord:

Lord: SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!!

Cash: ok ok I’m sorry!

Mal: HOW SORRY~

Cash: we’re not playing this game I’m still sick and-

Mal: H.O.W. S.O.R.R.Y???????

Cash: -sorry enough to do the dishes for the next month

Mal: NO, YOU’RE EATING THREE MEALS A DAY, THE SIZE THAT I PICK WHILE YOU RECOVER, AND NO COMPLAINTS!

Cash grumbles under his breath but concedes. He really would’ve rather done the dishes lol

Wine meanwhile looks a little impressed

Wine: COFFEE HAS NEVER APOLOGIZED LIKE THAT~ I WONDER IF KYRA AND I….

Mal: WAIT HOW DOES HE APOLOGIZE THEN?

Wine shrugs

Wine: USUALLY HE TAKES CARE OF A …. PROBLEM PERSON FOR ME. I HAVE A LIST IN MY OFFICE IF HE EVER NEEDS A HINT~

Lord: *under his breath* f*cking stars.. YOU TWO AREN’T OK WITH JUST A SORRY?

Mal and wine both give lord cheeky grins

Mal: THERES NO REASON FOR YOU TO APOLOGIZE EDGY, I KNOW BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU, YOU OWN THE BRAIN CELL~ BROTHER DO AT LEAST INFORM ME NEXT TIME YOU LEAVE.

His eyes soften and he gets up to hug cash who happily runs into mals arms

Mal: YOURE STILL RECOVERING AND YOU KNOW I WORRY.. STARS IM SORRY FOR SNAPPING, I JUST DONT WANT TO SEE YOU HURT AGAIN.

Cash: it’s ok bro, I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry too.

[amischievouscat]

Trans People Are Valid - And Here's Proof (Not That We Needed It)

Hi! Whether you're just scrolling through your dash or happen to be someone who was sent this post by someone else, I invite you to take a seat. This post was written as a place for people to be directed if it is so needed; so that others don't have to use their time to write out 5+ replies in the comments of a post.

A while ago (back in April, in fact) I wrote a series of replies in the comments of a post talking about the Nebraska lawmaker protesting the passing of an anti-trans bill. You can find the post here if you'd like to read it and my replies. In doing this I realized that the person I was arguing with (no, it was not a debate. Debates are two-sided and in good faith) would not listen to my points no matter what I said or how many articles proving my point I sent.

So instead, I decided to make one post and be done with it! If you happen to see a transphobe in the comments of a post arguing against gender-affirming care, saying that they'd never respect a trans person, or anything else along those lines, you can link them to this post and move on, secure in the knowledge that this post contains a wealth of scientific studies and news articles. To view the post, expand it.

Note: AFAB stands for "assigned female at birth" and AMAB means "assigned male at birth".

Oh, if you were sent this and don't read it, you can be secure in the fact that you're arguing in bad faith, and always knew that. I implore you to at least read my post, as I have quotes from the articles I link.

Some Context

Many times, in my browsing of this and other websites, I have come to see a disappointing number of people who do not understand completely (or at all) what "Transgender Healthcare" entails or is in the first place. I am of the mindset that education is the best way to combat hate; and as such I will be explaining (with links to studies and further reading, of course) what the phrase "Transgender Healthcare" means. My own personal ability to speak on this subject comes from my biology courses.

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What most people refer to as "Puberty Blockers" are actually a type of medication that prevents the release of a hormone in the body called "Gonadotropin (gonad-oh-trope-in) Releasing Hormone", or GnRH for short. This hormone is a releasing hormone, which means it tells other glands in the body (in this case, the Anterior Pituitary Gland, located at the base of the brain) to release hormones.

Normally, GnRH is released into the bloodstream at the onset of puberty. When the GnRH reaches the pituitary gland, it causes the pituitary to start to release two hormones: Luteinizing (lute-in-eye-zing) Hormone (LH) and Follicle-Stimulating Hormone (FSH).

LH has two effects:

In AFAB individuals it causes the onset of ovulation.

In AMAB individuals it causes the production and release of Testosterone.

While LH is being released, FSH is also released alongside it.

FSH's effects include:

In both AMAB and AFAB individuals, it stimulates the maturation of germ cells (cells that will eventually become either sperm or eggs, known colloquially as sex cells).

In AMAB individuals, it triggers spermatogenesis (production and maturation of sperm cells)

In AFAB individuals, it causes follicular cells to begin to mature. Think of follicular cells as the container that an egg is held in before it is released during ovulation.

The usage of PBs blocks all of this. Which means, in simple terms; it does exactly what it says it does. It doesn't "make people trans", it very rarely causes irreversible change. once you stop taking them GnRH is released as normal and all of the changes above will still take place. PBs simply delay puberty. You can read more here.

The Reason We Need Trans Healthcare

In my comments of the post that I linked at the top, I referred to a study (which you can find here) that aimed to "investigate changes in mental health over the first year of receiving gender-affirming care and whether initiation of puberty blockers (PBs) and gender-affirming hormones (GAHs) was associated with changes in depression, anxiety, and suicidality."

This study found that there was a whopping 60% decrease in the rates of depression and a 73% decrease in suicidality among youths aged 13-20 years old who took Puberty Blockers and/or Gender Affirming Hormones (commonly known as HRT — Hormone Replacement Therapy among the transgender community).

"After adjustment for temporal trends and potential confounders, we observed 60% lower odds of depression and 73% lower odds of suicidality among youths who had initiated PBs or GAHs compared with youths who had not."

This study also found that there was no correlation between the use of either Puberty Blockers or GAHs in youths and increased anxiety.

It's Not Unsafe Either

Another very common reason that I see people oppose GAH is that it is "unsafe", "experimental" or "off-label" (I.e. not approved as medical care). This statement is blatantly false, as many different organizations across the US identify it as life-saving. You can click on the names of the organizations within that link to view their statements on the matter.

Oh, and kids aren't getting double mastectomies. The isolated cases often brought up in arguments (of which I could only find a few) against transgender healthcare fail to mention that this goes directly against the Standards Of Care from the World Professional Association for Transgender Health itself. According to these guidelines (Chapter 5 - Assessment Of Adults, and Chapter 6 - Adolescents) before an adult is able to receive care, all of the following must be met:

The experience of gender incongruence is marked and sustained;

Fulfillment of diagnostic criteria is met;

Other possible causes of apparent gender incongruence prior to the initiation of gender-affirming treatments have been identified and excluded where applicable;

Any mental and/or physical health conditions that could negatively impact the outcome of gender-affirming medical treatments are assessed, with risks and benefits discussed, before a decision is made regarding treatment;

Capacity to consent for the specific physical treatment prior to the initiation of this treatment has been assessed;

Capacity of the gender diverse and transgender adult to understand the effect of gender-affirming treatment on reproduction and reproductive options with the individual have been discussed prior to the initiation of gender-affirming treatment;

The role of social transition together with the individual has been considered;

A single opinion for the initiation of this treatment from a professional who has competencies in the assessment of transgender and gender diverse people wishing gender-related medical and surgical treatment has been received;

A minimum of 6 months of hormone therapy as appropriate to the TGD person’s gender goals before the transgender person undergoes irreversible surgical intervention has been considered.

All of these criteria must be met before an adult receives any form of gender affirming care. In adolescents they must fit the above criteria AND:

The adolescent demonstrates the emotional and cognitive maturity required to provide informed consent/assent for the treatment;

The adolescent has reached Tanner stage 2 of puberty (the starting stages);

The adolescent had at least 12 months of gender-affirming hormone therapy or longer, if required, to achieve the desired surgical result for gender-affirming procedures, including breast augmentation, orchiectomy, vaginoplasty, hysterectomy, phalloplasty, metoidioplasty, and facial surgery as part of gender-affirming treatment.

As demonstrated by these guidelines, a child must have at minimum one year of HRT before they are able to have any gender-affirming surgeries, on top of all of the other requirements regarding therapy and differential diagnosis.

Furthermore, many of the effects of HRT are reversible, as shown by the graph on the Trans Primary Care website. According to the graph, of 11 physical characteristics that are changed with taking Estrogen in transgender women, 4 are completely reversible, 1 is reversible/variable, 5 are variable, and only 1 is irreversible, that being breast growth.

The Bathroom Debate Is A Joke (And Trans People Are Suffering)

There's a common idea being spread primarily online that cisgender men will use trans women being allowed to use women's restrooms as a method to get into women's bathrooms to rape cisgender women. This rhetoric has bled into our lawmaking system, as shown by the Trans Legislation tracker, which records that of 568 anti-trans bills proposed in the United States this year alone, 83 of them have passed, while 360 are still active. That's a pass rate of 14.6%.

The data, however, does not and never has supported this idea. One study in Massachusetts found no correlation between allowing transgender people to use their preferred restroom and increased assaults.

There is, however, overwhelming evidence to the contrary. There are many articles about transgender people being harassed and even killed for entering the bathroom that is perceived as "incorrect" by onlookers. An example is this 12 year old trans girl (second article) who was forced to move after violent threats were made to her family for the second time in a row. Her mother, Brandy Rose, stating that while going to school in Texas after she transitioned male students had forced her daughter, Maddie, into the boy's restroom and taunted her to commit suicide. After their move to Oklahoma, the young girl's school district was forced to shut down for 2 days following violent threats directed at the 12 year old over Facebook for using the girl's restroom at school.

Another example can be seen in this 29 year old homeless transgender woman, who was assaulted by a group of 3 men outside of a restroom in Puerto Rico. In a recording of the incident, the men verbally harassed her, driving off and later returning with what is presumed to be either a paintball gun or a silenced handgun, and firing at the woman repeatedly. The woman was found dead on the side of the road with multiple bullet wounds later that same night.

This study reports that:

"Seventy percent of survey respondents reported being denied access, verbally harassed, or physically assaulted in public restrooms."

Another study found the following, out of 3,700 respondents:

"36% of transgender or gender-nonbinary students with restricted bathroom or locker room access reported being sexually assaulted in the last 12 months. Of all students surveyed, 1 out of every 4, or 25.9%, reported being a victim of sexual assault in the past year."

The argument that transgender people are a danger to cisgender people or that the "modern trans movement is radicalizing activists into terrorists" (quote here) is a complete fabrication. Isolated cases of transgender women being the perpetrators of violence does not mean that being transgender is the cause (correlation does not equal causation after all).

Transgender people are over 4 times more likely to be victims of violent crime than their cisgender counterparts. Another study reported that, of 7 transgender high school students interviewed, 2 of them had been set on fire and all of them had been victims of mass bullying and physical assault.

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This marks the end of my post. Good job, you made it! Hopefully you've come out of this feeling more knowledgeable.

If you notice a broken link or have information that you would like me to add or change, you can send me a message/ask. My asks are also open for those with questions. Please note: if you are rude, arguing clearly in bad faith, or obviously did not read my post, I will delete your ask without responding. I don't have time for dealing with that. Revaluate yourself if you feel like being a jerk online is the best way to solve your problem.

Have a good day, and I hope you learned something.