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vettelsvee · 4 months ago

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DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,” you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing.

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to.

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?"

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you.

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you.

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly.

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence.

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

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call-of-daydreams · 19 days ago

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𝐵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎- 𝒮𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎. 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓂.

𝒞𝓌: 𝒮𝓂𝓊𝓉, 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝐵𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀

Ghost sat on their couch, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched you from across the room. He had been contemplating something for quite some time, a secret plan forming in his mind. The Christmas season was approaching, and he wanted to give you the best gift he could think of. He knew there was one thing you had been longing for a while, and he was determined to make it happen.

As you chatted idly with him, sipping on a steaming cup of tea, Ghost's eyes softened, reflecting the warmth of the fireplace nearby.

"Hey, love," he called out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. "Can I talk to you about something important?"

You set your tea down on the coffee table and turned your attention to Ghost. Sensing the seriousness in his tone, you nodded silently, giving him your full attention.

Ghost patted the empty space on the couch next to him, silently signaling for you to join him. You obliged, crossing the room to take a seat beside him, your heart suddenly beating a bit faster, curiosity piqued.

"What's wrong?" You ask, getting serious

Ghost took a deep breath, his expression growing serious as well. "It's nothing wrong, love," he reassured you. "But I do have something I want to discuss with you. Something that's been on my mind for a while now."

He took your hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm. His thumb traced idle patterns on the back of your hand as he gathered his thoughts, preparing to voice what had been on his mind.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, his voice low and earnest. "And I know how much you've wanted a baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your mind instantly understanding the direction this conversation was going in. You felt a mixture of hope and anticipation building within you, nodding silently in response.

Ghost's grip on your hand tightened slightly, almost as if he was drawing strength from your touch. He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and determination.

"Is this because we just found out that Johnny and his wife are pregnant?" You ask

Ghost's expression darkened slightly, a flicker of irritation passing through his eyes. "Partially," he admitted, his voice holding a hint of bitterness. "But it's not just about that, love. Seeing them together, knowing they have what you've been wishing for...it's made me realize something."

His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I know how much you want a child. And I want to give that to you. I want to hear the sounds of a baby's laughter echoing in our home, and see the joy in your eyes when you hold our child in your arms. I want to make you a mother, love. More than anything."

Your heart swelled with love and hope at his words, a lump forming in your throat. You knew that Ghost had his own reservations and fears about becoming a father, but hearing him speak so passionately about it now only reaffirmed your belief in his love for you.

"I know I'm not the best at expressing my emotions, love," Ghost continued, his voice filled with vulnerability. "But I want this with you. I want us to start a family together. I want to see you become the amazing mother I know you'll be."

"And I'm sure you'll be an amazing father since you already know how not to act, you know with your childhood..."

Ghost chuckled wryly, his eyes betraying a hint of pain as the topic of his childhood came up. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point there," he admitted. "My upbringing wasn't the best, but I'm damn determined to be a better father than mine ever was."

He paused, his thumb tracing lazy patterns on your knuckles as he continued. "I want our child to have everything I didn't. A loving, stable home. Parents who are there for them through thick and thin. A happy childhood filled with laughter and love."

His gaze met yours, his eyes holding nothing but tenderness and determination. "And I know you'll be an amazing mother, love. You have such a nurturing, caring spirit. You'll give our child everything they need to grow up strong and happy."

Ghost's hand moved from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his touch a gentle yet possessive gesture. He pulled you closer to him, his body heat suddenly noticeable in the small space between you.

"You know, love," he whispered, his voice dropping to a huskier tone. "There is one aspect of making a baby that I'm quite fond of."

A mischievous twinkle came into his eyes, his fingers gently caressing the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. He leaned in closer to you, his lips so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Maybe you'd like to hear about it?"

"Is it the sex part?"

Ghost's smirk widened at your blunt response. "You read me too well," he said, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But yeah, that's exactly what I was referring to, love."

He gently guided you down onto the couch, his body hovering above yours. His hands explored your curves, tracing a path from your shoulders down to your hips. Leaning in, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there.

"The thought of creating life with you...it does things to me, love," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. His hands continued their exploration of your body, his touch growing more urgent, more possessive.

He angled his body so that he was fully on top of you now, his weight pressing you into the cushions of the couch. His lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline, his gaze filled with hunger and need.

"The idea that something we created, something made from our love, will be growing inside you..." he whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine. "It's the most beautiful and primal kind of connection, love."

"I'm starting to think you have somewhat of a breeding kink." You joke.

Ghost chuckled, his lips still tracing a path along your neck. "Mmm, maybe I do," he admitted, his hand moving down to grip your hip possessively. "There's just something about the thought of making a baby with you that drives me wild, love."

His other hand slid under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your bare stomach. "Maybe we should start a family sooner rather than later," he murmured, his voice taking on a more seductive tone. "After all, practice makes perfect love."

"How many kids?"

Ghost leaned back slightly so he could meet your gaze, a mischievous smile on his face. "You want me to put a number on it?" he teased, his hand idly tracing circles on your stomach but getting lower, lower, lower.

"I just want to have an estimate on how many kids you're wanting me to carry because I might have to make a limit."

Ghost chuckled, his hand stopping its descent just above the waistband of your pants. "Oh, there's no limit, love," he purred, his eyes darkening with desire. "I want to get you pregnant over and over again until you're completely overflowing with our children."

"Can we financially handle that?"

Ghost's smirk faded slightly, his mind briefly sobering at your pragmatic question. "Ah, you always have to be the voice of reason, don't you love?" he teased, his hand moving back up to rest on your hip.

"How about the most we have is 5. That's the max I'm willing to go to."

Ghost pretended to consider for a moment, his expression one of mock contemplation. "Mmm, five, huh? That's...acceptable. For now." He leaned back in, his lips hovering inches from yours. "But who knows what could happen once we start love..."

You roll your eyes "Yeah, yeah, Just fuck me already."

Ghost chuckled, his eyes sparking with mischief and desire. "Eager, are we?"

He leaned in, his lips gently grazing over yours in a teasingly light kiss. "Don't worry, love," he murmured, his hand moving to toy with the hem of your shirt. "You'll get what you want."

He slowly lifted your shirt, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he exposed your flesh to his hungry gaze. He took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and possessiveness.

Ghost's hands roamed over your now exposed skin, his touch hungry and possessive. He leaned down, his lips leaving a trail of hot, open-mouth kisses along your collarbone and down to your chest.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, love," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. "Seeing you like this under me...it's enough to drive me insane."

His hands continued their exploration of your body, tracing a path down your sides and settling on your hips. "I can't wait any longer, love," he breathed, his eyes locking with yours. "I need you now."

With a swift motion, he lifted you up into his arms, the strength he held in his lean form evident as he carried you effortlessly to the bedroom. He placed you gently down onto the bed, his body immediately covering yours.

His lips found yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that mirrored his growing need. His hands roamed over your body, his touch becoming more desperate and bruising as his desire for you overwhelmed him.

Getting a bit more desperate, you try and fail pulling Simon's shirt off of him.

Ghost chuckled against your lips, his hands moving to help you with his shirt. As you struggled to pull it over his head, he broke the kiss for just a moment, a wry smile on his face.

"Eager, love?" he teased, his voice low and rough. "Let me take care of it."

With one swift movement, he whipped off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight of his bare skin sent a thrill through you, your hands immediately reaching out to explore the expanse of muscle and warm flesh.

Ghost let out a low moan as your hands roamed over his chest, his eyes darkening with barely contained desire. He leaned back down, his naked chest pressing against yours as he captured your lips in another deep, hungry kiss.

His body pressed against yours, Ghost's tongue delved deeper into your mouth, his kiss growing more urgent and demanding. You gasped as he deepened the kiss, his grip on your hips tightening possessively.

"I need to feel you, love," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "I need all of you."

"Please, I can't wait any longer"

Ghost let out a low growl, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger. "Patience, love," he chided, although his own patience was clearly thinning by the second. "I need to make sure you're ready for me first."

"Ghost" You say desperately "Please, I can take it, you know I can we've done it before."

Ghost's body trembled at your desperate plea, his control starting to unravel. "Love, you're not making this easy for me," he groaned, his hands kneading your hips roughly. "I don't want to hurt you..."

But the look in your eyes and the need in your voice was too much for him to resist. He couldn't deny you any longer. With a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness, he leaned down and whispered in your ear. "But...if you're sure you're ready..."

His hands moved to the waistband of your pants, his fingers deftly working to undo the buttons and zips. He slowly pulled the fabric down over your hips, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your expression.

Once the pants were gone, he gently parted your legs, his touch both reverent and greedy. "You're so beautiful, love," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. "So perfect..."

He moved between your thighs, his body fitting snugly between them. "Are you sure you're ready for me, love?" he asked again, his gaze locked on yours. "There's no going back once we start."

"Yes, I'm ready, I'm so ready."

Ghost's resolve finally broke, the last bit of his self-control shattered by your desperate plea. He lunged forward, his lips capturing yours in a deep and hungry kiss. At the same time, he repositioned himself, his body lining up perfectly with yours.

"Hold on tight, love," he rasped against your lips, his voice laden with primal need. "This might get rough."

With one swift, fluid motion, he entered you, filling you completely in one deep thrust. You gaspered at the sudden intrusion, your body arching against his. Ghost let out a low, guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he held himself still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the feel of him inside you.

"Oh, love..." he groaned, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "You feel so good, so perfect. I don't think I'll be able to hold back."

"Don't hold back, I want you to breed me."

Ghost's eyes darkened at your words, a feral, primal light sparking in them. "As you wish, love," he growled, his voice a rough, ragged rumble. "But I warned you..."

With a guttural moan, he began to move, his hips pistoning into you with a primal, almost brutal rhythm. His lips found your neck, his teeth nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh as he claimed you, marking you as his own.

Each thrust was deep and hard, his body pinning you to the bed as he took what he had been yearning for. "You're mine," he growled, his voice guttural with possession. "You always have been and always will be. I'm going to fill you up, love, fill you up until you're overflowing with me, until there's no doubt in anyone's mind that you belong to me."

His words sent a thrill through you, your body responding to his primal assertiveness with a wave of desire of your own. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him as close as possible, your nails digging into the muscled expanse of his back.

He groaned at the feel of you pulling him in, his movements becoming more forceful, more urgent. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice a rough rasp against your skin. "Say it, love. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate. "I'm all yours, Simon. Please, don't stop."

Ghost's movements became more frantic, more desperate. His breathing was harsh and ragged as he pounded into you, his grip on your hips sure to bruise. "That's right," he grunted, his voice ragged with primal possession.

"You're mine. All mine. Mine to love, mine to take, and mine to claim. I'm going to fill you up, love. Fill you up with my seed, with a part of me growing inside you. You're going to carry my child, love. You're going to have a part of me inside you, a bond that can never be broken. You'll be mine forever, in the most primal and intimate way possible. And I'll be yours, love. Yours to love, yours to mark, and yours to claim. We'll be bound together, forever one."

His words sent a wave of emotion through you, your body arching up against his as the pleasure built to almost unbearable heights. "I want that, Simon," you gasped, your fingers digging into his back. "I want to be yours, forever."

"You are," he growled, his voice a rough, possessive rumble. "You're mine, love, and I'm never letting you go. You're going to carry my child, grow round with my baby, and I'm going to be here, every step of the way."

"And after that first child, love, I'm going to fill you up again and again until you can't take it anymore, until your beautiful body is overflowing with my seed and my children. You're going to know what it means to be mine, love, in every possible way."

"You're going to know the depth of my love and my possession, love. You're mine, body and soul, and there's nothing in this world that can change that. I'm going to make sure of it, love. And nothing, no one will come between us."

With that, Ghost leaned down, his lips finding yours in a deep, possessive kiss, claiming you completely and utterly.

“Merry Christmas, My Love.”

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snezka-049 · 2 months ago

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Snezka and Doctor reference and lore (SCP-049) 🐰💚/💉🖤

Disclaimer: events of this story of Doctor (SCP-049) and Snezka, take place in one of the many multiverses of SCP! Lore will be supplemented. Sorry my bad English. This is my first experience.

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• Snezka. Doctor's assistant and apprentice.

Snezka's story [tw] (its me, myself, Childhood and my ideas, real events)

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From birth, Snezka had to go through traumatic, unpleasant events in the family: her father's frequent violence against her mother, their scandalous breakup, her repeated returns to him, and an identical outcome.

When Snezka was 5 years old, she and her mother moved to live with a very conservative grandmother. Domestic violence continued, in form of a cruel and despotic upbringing of Snezhka. For any childish mistakes, without explaining what she was guilty of, what she did wrong, and how it was worth doing - she was beaten, humiliated, severely punished.

When Snezka was 8 years old, her mother found a new husband, together they moved in with him, but problems got worse. Her stepfather began to drink alcohol often. In a drunken state, he became aggressive and literally tried to kill little Snezka. She had to run away from home to be safe, because her mother, although she tried to protect her, it was unsuccessful.

In future, these events affected her character, making her nervous, anxious, blaming for everything, depressed, and paranoid. This led to trouble in the future.

Problems began in her school years, it was not possible to join the team, all because Snezka's upbringing took place behind closed doors, she had no friends, for reason that she was not allowed to leave the house, she rarely went out for a walk, and then only under a control of her mother. She was not taught social adjustment and interaction, as it was not a priority for her mother herself.

Unjustified bullying and rejection of her peers led Snezka to aggression, in4 future she became detached from the general mass of people and until the very end of school, she experienced bullying.

The events that had happened had led her to Introspection. More and more often she thought about a meaning of existence, society and other philosophical reflections. Later, all of this led her to a breakdown, from which she attempted to take her own life. The attempt turned out to be non-lethal, which in the end brings more trouble and attempts to bring the matter to the end. From the age of 12 to 16, she tried to take her own life. Her family couldn't understand or help her, her problems didn't seem significant, her attitude was worse, no one tried to understand how she felt, no one tried to help or even just talk to her.

Since the time of rethinking, personality formation and age, the girl copes with problems and works on herself. In the family everything is more or less settled, communication and society appeared. In the process of the flow of all the traumas experienced, Snezka understands her mistakes and the mistakes of this world, the problems of society and the relations of people to each other.

Her raison d'être is to become one of those who will change the world for better. She dreams of working in medicine or psychology, but when she went through the psychiatric board, she was not accepted for training because she was diagnosed with schizotypal disorder. The disorder was diagnosed at the age of 15 when she was being treated in a neuropsychiatric hospital. This plunged her into further despair for several years, but eventually she came to decision to find another way to realize her destiny. More specifically, to return to what she'd been practicing before.

She had a theory that there were no bad people in the world, but wounded people who had not been healed. She believed that a person becomes wounded after being treated unfairly or cruelly by others who are similarly wounded. If a person does not work on his wound, it will not heal, because there are many wounded people in the world that will scratch this wound, making it bigger. And this pain and resentment like a virus or rot infects his soul completely, making the person the same as one who once inflicted the wound. Later on, this person carries this pain and resentment further, taking it out on others, making more infected. It is an endless cycle that cannot be eradicated completely, but can be minimized. Some can handle it, and some need help. It is necessary that a person wants help, understands the situation and tries to solve it too, because no one can help you better than you yourself, which is what Snezka had to go through.

Her first steps towards this were moral support and help to similarly lonely or abandoned people. She communicated with a lot of different people on the Internet, looking for people who needed help, as well as compensating for her lack of social life as a child. A lot of people during her communication with her, gained trust, she always said that she was ready to listen and help. People disclosed their emotional wounds to her, and Snezka could help them find a way to cure, gave advice on how to correct the problematic situation, as well as providing moral and psychological support, helping people to understand themselves.

One day everything changed in Snezka's life, a special Doctor appeared in her life....

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• SCP-049, Doctor. A humanoid creature, an anomaly, and a misunderstood genius.

The Doctor's Story (SCP-049)

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Once upon a time, he was probably an ordinary person, but after one incident and getting into "Alagadda", he became what he is to this day. It is not yet known whether it is possible to return it to its previous form, is it worth it?

Doctor believes that the world is sick with the "Pestilence" ー as he himself nicknamed this disease, its nature is not studied. His task is to rid the world of it, for what reason he took on this responsibility is not known, or maybe someone initiated him into it, once in the past (?). It has the ability to stop all biological processes in the human body with one touch, at its own will.

(The Pestilence is not a simple plague!)

Was captured by the SCP Foundation, which studies anomalies and contains them. At first, during his stay in the fund, he was closed in on himself and nurtured a plan for further actions. When he was told where he was, Doctor was very happy to be in the company of fellow researchers and scientists. He was eager to share his achievements and talk about his experience, but unfortunately he faced misunderstanding. His life's work, all his works, were criticized.

He insisted and was given a opportunity to show himself, but his experiments and operations failed, which with each such failure minimized the Foundation's handouts, and then stopped altogether. WhicWhichh extremely angered Doctor, in his opinion, the foundation staff, like many others, are incapable of looking past the minor setbacks to the salvation happening right before their eyes. He genuinely wants to help others, but unfortunately he was unable to provide the foundation with a concrete example of exactly what he is trying to save everyone from.

His long past keeps many secrets that he does not yet tell, probably does not remember everything or for some reason keeps it a secret.

One day, his life changed, he had a faithful and devoted ally who understands him and is ready for anything...

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• Beginning, escape from the foundation

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Snezka learns about the SCP Foundation from an acquaintance, and by invitation she managed to get to work there as a programmer. While working at the foundation, she learned about SCP-049 and became interested in his personality. As she learned more about him, she realized that they had a common goal in life and could help each other achieve it. She felt compassion for him and saw herself in him. She realized that this was an opportunity to change the world.

There was an accident at the Foundation, the security system was shut down, and most of the dangerous objects broke free, causing all the attention of the Foundation's guards to be focused on them. Snezka managed to get into SCP-049's holding cell, talk to him and convince him to trust her. Doctor was eager to return to freedom and continue his work after so many years. After a long time in the foundation, he had nothing to lose, the days were the same, and the possibility of escape became a very interesting proposition. Of course, he had to go through some difficulties, but the escape was successful. Doctor became one of hundreds of missing anomalies, and Snezka was added to the missing/possibly murdered staff.

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• Doctor and Snezka personalities

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Snezka

Born in the south of Russia. Speaks Russian and English, and is learning French. She looks like a fragile girl, slightly infantile, hyperactive, but when responsible moment comes, she becomes serious and collected. Extremely loyal and devoted, idealist, romantic and dreamer. Open and sociable when around Doctor. In public (without him) shy and silent. Optimist, finds bright sides in any situation, although due to frequent attempts to understand herself and digging in the past, there are prolonged depressive periods, and anxiety. (this has been eliminated with the advent of Doctor). Hypochondriac, vulnerable, can cry easily. Very empathic.

Often she feels miserably for dying sick patients, even if she tries to separate feelings from work and understands that this is all for the good. Even realizing cure is not perfect, she still fully trusts and is confident Doctor.

Attitude towards Doctor

She considers Doctor an alternative better version of herself, finds inspiration in him and sees an example to follow, dreams of being like him. Madly in love with him. He surrounds with a lot of care and tactility, shows signs of attention, may not notice how he hits hyper-protection.

Previously, Snezka did not have such love and romantic feelings for anyone, for a long time she believed that she did not need it, her priority was her life goal and work.

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Doctor (SCP-049)

He is able to speak different languages, although he prefers English or French. He is extremely well-mannered, intelligent, well-read and intelligent, a master of his profession, has outstanding knowledge and skills in the field of medicine. Uses complex phrases, metaphors and terms in speech. Very rarely show emotions, but is able to show them.

In general, peaceful, it is difficult to get him out of temper, however, if it comes to work or there is a person with pestilence next to him, he becomes aggressive and seeks to "cure" the patient.

Reacts negatively to criticism, is an idealist and a perfectionist. A little pessimistic, but confident in himself and his abilities (or wants to think so).

Attitude towards Snezka

Doctor sees in Snezka a hope, she motivates and invigorates him. With the appearance of this girl, his existence has brightened. She makes him feel truly needed in the world, which inspires and energizes him to work, he feels supported, cared for and understood. For a long time, Doctor has been alone and self-reliant. He has never experienced romantic feelings in his entire existence, which makes him temporarily unaware of his relationship with Snezka, but he knows that these feelings are positive. Deep down, Doctor is afraid of losing her, so he pays attention to all her complaints about her well-being.

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• Time after the escape

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Doctor began to live with Snezka, he understood that he would be safe with her, he did not want to be lonely again, he became attached to her. He was temporarily deprived of the opportunity to practice treating the pestilence. Doctor is a master of his profession, but because of the peculiarity of his essence, he cannot officially work as a doctor.

(and also does not have a license)

Snezka understood his longing for work, and also wanted to participate in it, she was very sorry for the fate of the Doctor and she was ready to help him with everything.

Sharing her story, Doctor realized that it makes sense for them to be together, and he takes her as a apprentice. The teaching took place theoretically, from his notes and personal narratives, but theory alone is not enough.

After a while, they became underground doctors, setting up their clinic at Snezka's home. Funds for it were spent from Snezka's budget, she earned money on tailoring clothes to order and drawing. This was enough to cover the costs of their accommodation.

For the clinic, Snezka found potential clients ー people in need of medical care. For their work, Doctor and Snezka took a symbolic payment, affordable to patients.

Those who did not have pestilence were cure with standard methods and procedures, whereas cure a patient with pestilence most often resulted in death.

Of course, the cure needs to be improved, but together they will find the best medicine.

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• Development of romantic relationships

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Their relationship was friendly. The initiative to get closer and move to romance began to show Snezka. Doctor noticed the change in her behavior immediately, but he was in no hurry to draw conclusions .

After a while, he began to feel that he too wanted to pay attention to Snezka and try to start a serious relationship, but only after he had achieved his goal of cure the world from the pestilence. But after a few years, he decided that their relationship wouldn't interfere with work, and made the first move, saying: "I've never felt this way before, but I think I love you."

After discovering that their thoughts and feelings were mutual, the couple began to pay even more attention to each other and express their love directly.

Because of Snezka, Doctor found inspiration and motivation to work, became less withdrawn and not shy to show feelings and emotions. And because of Doctor, Snezka was able to cope with her anxiety, become self-confident and let go of her past.

They complement each other, and together they can work on themselves and their common cause, they were able to realize each other's goals and desires.

They are cure for each other.

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• How they spend time together

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Most of their time, they are engaged in Snowball's work, treatment, and training.

In their free time, Snezka and Doctor like to philosophize about life over a cup of tea, walk in nature away from people, both have a weakness for lavender.

Often Snezka tries to introduce Doctor to modern culture, sometimes you need to take a break from work. She introduced him to many films, TV series, cartoons and video games.

Separately, they are withdrawn and deeply immersed in their thoughts, but when together, they become different. Sometimes Snezka becomes a psychologist for Doctor, because he still has mental wounds that he has never told anyone about, and she helps to heal them. They are confident in each other.

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• Situations from their lives

Why not, ahah. Section will be supplemented.

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Snezka often gives Doctor gifts, once the Doctor decided to give her his first gift, it was an embalmed heart in a jar. Snezka still doesn't know who owned the heart.

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One day Snezka decided to introduce Doctor to her family. She asked him not to talk about pestilence and not to cure anyone in her family if someone was sick with the fever, at least on the day of the first meeting, at least not in front of everyone. He promised that everything would go well.

At the family meeting, it was tense at first, Snezka's family was embarrassed by her lover's appearance. But after chatting for a few hours, they realized that he might be creepy on the outside, but he was a smart, well-mannered man.

When Snezka and the Doctor arrived home, Doctor sighed heavily and said that he was holding on and keeping his head down, but there were two people at the table with them who were sick with pestilence . They never traveled together to Snowball's family again.

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That's all for now, it will be updated from time to time. In the meantime, you can ask questions, thank you :3

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mediumgayitalian · 11 months ago

Text

part one

———

Nico’s memory is…screwy.

The Lethe warped things, but the body stores memory in strange ways. The only image he has of his mother is the gentle swish of her skirts as Zeus incinerated her, the echo of her fond scoff and curled r’s. Even that memory was shown to him. Most of his childhood memories are from the Lotus Casino, really, running after Bianca through the flashing games and then running away from her, laughing, when she forbid him from driving on the racetrack. His sister is the centre of his memories. He keeps them under lock and key, buried in the same place he keeps Mythomagic stats and his constant string of fear.

(The key is rusted and the lock is loose. He sees her in every mirror, now, in every mirror. She was pretty. Beautiful. He always thought so. She hid herself in too-large sweaters and shapeless skirts, crooked stockings and her floppy green hat. Kept her hand curled around his, turned away from the boys who smiled at her, touched her shoulders. She was his entire world, and he is beginning to realize that he was her world, too, only she had no one to care for her. It makes Nico ache to think about, the tears he sometimes saw welling up in her dark eyes, the creases in her angular, beautiful face. Her pain is as familiar in his reflection as the shape of her nose, identical to his.)

(Gorgeous, Will called him.)

Warped as his memories are, Nico isn’t completely stranded — he has dreams.

His dreams, although rare, are clear. He is a spectator of himself, and voyeur of his own life. He does not remember Venice, does not remember his bedroom, the country side, the kitchen table. But he remembers every dream he has.

Including, embarrassingly, a lecture that had both him and Bianca red-cheeked and scowling.

“You-a smart, bambina,” Maria had said to Bianca, squeezing her chin with flour-covered hands. “Una belladonna giovane, si, Niccolò?”

Nico had snickered into his hands, legs kicking, looking at his sister cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out.

“Bianca è una picchia,” Nico had teased, repeating his mother’s words from the last time she’d been scolded. “Una piantagrane!”

Bianca’s eyes had flashed. “Nico, I’m gonna sell your stupido toys —”

“Sonno worries forra my Bianca,” Maria had interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Ragazzi comma running. But you, Niccolò.” She dragged him back by the cuff of his shirt, cutting off his escape attempts. ““È importante, capisci? Lookame. Niccolò. Lookame.”

He spent a lot of time fidgeting, he remembers. Bouncing off the walls.

His mother was patient.

“You gonna be uno marito, un giorno. Gonna marry a nice-a girl. You gotta sai come fate.”

He wakes up from the dream embarrassed.

He knows why it was brought from the depths of his subconscious. He’s not dense. But he wishes, as he rips the sheets off his sweaty body, that it had stayed in those stupid trenches.

His mother’s raspy, cigarette-smoker voice twists with Will’s smooth rumble: You gonna be uno marito, one day. I’ve had a crush on you for forever.

He buries his burning face in his knees. What is Will’s problem. Who says that?

Nico has had crushes before. Telling Percy made him nauseous for three days. And Will just — said it. Said it!

He rolls onto the floor, refusing to think about it any longer. He has things to do today. Children to humble. He cannot afford — distractions.

Of course, he is distracted anyway.

He hears the kids in his sword fighting class whisper to themselves. They usually do, but there’s an audible difference to it; they sound more like the giggling naiads than nervous kids. Nico spends all three of his classes tense as a rod, stiffer than he usually is a suffering for it.

He dismisses each one of his classes early.

By lunchtime, he’s exhausted. He’s tempted to skip all together, but yesterday he ran out of snacks, and if he skips two days in a row Will’ll come marching, which is the last thing he needs. He lingers in the amphitheatre, biting the inside of his thumb, weighing his options. Eat with a crowd of people, go hungry.

In the end, the choice is made for him.

He startled when his name is called by a group of people, each with similar levels of enthusiasm. Leo, Piper, Jason, and Annabeth — Percy is with his mom this week, Nico recalls — approach him, waving.

“We are flagrantly breaking the rules and eating at Jason’s table,” Piper says, smiling. “Sit with us.”

She says it like an offer, but Nico has a feeling it’s more of a command. He nods, hesitantly falling in step with Annabeth.

(His friendship with her startled him. So many years seething with jealousy, simmering with misplaced hate and pain; only to find out she’s stubborn, like he is, and kinda cagey. She knows what it’s like growing up glancing over your shoulder. They stand the same, shoulders loose but knees locked; and eat the same, like they’ll never see food again. She knows when to let him have his silence. He knows when to let her have her space.)

She nods at him, smiling slightly. Her grey hairs are dyed with pink, today. It clashes horribly with her camp shirt. It suits her.

“Kids do alright today?”

“Yeah.”

“Harley blow anything up?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive, that one.”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

They’re the last ones to the dining pavilion. Most tables are already full, conversations rising and lulling, food disappearing from plates. Several people duck close to their friends as they walk by, whispering. Nico pretends not to notice, pretends not to see Annabeth’s frown.

“Nico! Hey! I was just about to come find ya!”

Tripping in his haste to get up from his table — or maybe over his snickering sister’s extended foot — Will bounds up to meet him, hair flopping into his eyes, grin wide and blinding.

Nico’s palms begin to sweat.

“Will,” he acknowledges, after a beat too long.

Will doesn’t seem to notice.

(Everyone else does.)

“Just wanted to let you know that I was up last night digging through the records, and I found a hymn that’ll fix up your face faster. Not that it needs fixing.” He winks, or maybe tries to. What he really does is blink both eyes, beam so bright it forces smile lines. Nico goes bright red. “So just drop by whenever! I’m not on duty today, but it’s cool, just come find me. Better sooner than later, right?”

He doesn’t wait for Nico’s response, already half turned away by the end of his sentence. “See ya!” he shouts, too loud for the limited size of the dining pavilion, already stumbling back to his table, halfway through a new conversation with Austin. He watches him, amused, indulging.

“So,” says a teasing voice, dragging out the vowel, gleeful. Nico turns to find four identical smirks. “He sounded eager.”

“Nope,” Nico says immediately, turning back the way he came. His face continues to grow exponentially more red, which at this point must be some kind of hazard. “Food is overrated. I’m gonna —”

“Oh, no you don’t,” and then there’s a hand clenched in the back of his jacket, pulling, and four echoing cackles, and he’s dragged over to Jason’s table kicking and hissing. “Time for you to spill.”

———

part three

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lyssasdrafts · 10 months ago

Text

— AFTERGLOW (azriel x reader)

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go. ”

masterlist previous next

‼️‼️ written portion below the cut ‼️‼️

you’d never felt more at peace.

you’re holding onto azriel’s back, your head laying on his shoulder as he starts up the motorcycle. he drives slowly at first, your heart beat suddenly beginning to race as he starts going at a faster speed, causing you to grip onto him tighter.

a smile passed your lips, though no one could see it since he’d insisted on you wearing his helmet. although the view goes by fast, you try to enjoy the scenery you pass by. nothing but the sound of his cycle and the wind, the lighting below the sunset, and that feeling of gratification within you. you could get used to this, you think to yourself.

he stops at a spot near the mountains, it’s a quiet place with no one else nearby. he helps you off his bike and the two of you find a bench to sit down on. it starts to get darker outside and you talk until the stars start to show themselves.

“so,” he smiles, “was the ride worth the hype?”

you admire the way his eyelashes fluttered in the moonlight. how the shine in his eyes reflects the stars above you. he’s beautiful, you think.

“yes! definitely,” you laugh, “thank you.” and maybe you were starting to fall in love with him, too.

the atmosphere is calm, so relaxing that you find yourself yawning and resting your head on his shoulder.

in your haze, you blurt out a question.

“azriel,” you say, no longer sounding as sleepy. he turns his head at you.

“why did you drop out?”

he stays quiet for a moment, was there something deeper there? you wait until he throws the question back at you, “well, i could ask why you chose to stay at velaris,” he chuckles.

you know that he was joking, but recently you’ve learnt that trust is a two way street. if you wanted him to talk to you about these things, he would appreciate you doing the same.

“honestly, i wouldn’t know where else to go,” you begin. “i’m mostly chose to go to velaris because that’s where nesta went. she’s basically my sister from another mother…”

“did you have anyone else?”

“other than her sisters and maybe lucien, no.” you shake your head. “we grew up together and they were all i had, i was… mostly alone as a kid.” you saw the way his demeanor shifted, something sparked in his eyes, signaling that the same thing resonated with him too. it was on the tip of his tongue, but he respectfully let you continue.

“i know that my mom loved me, but she was too focused on work. i was always over at the archeron household instead,” you smile, thinking of your childhood memories. “i admire her though, it probably wasn’t easy since… you know, my dad wasn’t there.” you chuckle thinking of the trouble you probably caused both your famillies.

“it must’ve been hard raising me while she worked on her corporate business. maybe people at school thought i was probably stuck up and well… i’m not really the easiest person to get closer with.” you lift your gaze from the ground to look at azriel, listening attentively. you give him a smile and a content look, telling him that it’s okay now.

it’s okay because i have you now.

“anyways, it’s your turn,” you chuckle, “what about you?”

azriel hesitates before he looks you in the eyes and realizes it’s okay. “i had a single mom too, y/n. and i didn’t really have any siblings either, i’m an only child. i guess we have that in common.” he tries to force a smile at the thought.

you nod, “you have step-siblings, right?”

“yes, but they’re—” azriel is interrupted by his phone ringing, the bright lockscreen causing a strain to your eyes under this lighting. you don’t see the contact name, but you see him visibly tense up after reading it. though he’s still at a loss for words, he picks up the call, getting up to be a few feet away from you, just out of your earshot.

you’d never seen him as upset as he was during that entire phone call, he mutters a “i’ll get back to you,” before putting it on hold and walking over to you.

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

— NOTES

hearing more about y/n’s backstory and perspective… hopefully we’ll get azriel’s too

spoiler: i think y/n might be in love too 🫶

who do you think called azriel?? 👀👀 you and cassian both tried reaching him before cassian got rhys to call him

— TAGLIST

@ithan-holstroms-girl @strangelycami @fell-in-luvs @goldenmagnolias @glam-targaryen @acourtofdreamsandshadows @bloombb @mp-littlebit @gamarancianne @stqrgirlies-blog @peachcontour-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @chessebookgirl @fairywriter-oracle @thelov3lybookworm @corvusmorte @evergreenlark @marina468 @405rry @azrielsmate3 taglist is open!! lmk if you want to be added

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kalamity-jayne · 10 months ago

Note

Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?

Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.

Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.

Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.

I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.

From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.

I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.

After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.

Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.

Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.

During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).

I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.

I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.

As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!

I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.

Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!

Big hugs,

Mother Calamity

#advice from a trans mom #Transition #HRT #Transgender #cracking the egg #ask/answer #anon #mother calamity!

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eco-lite · 1 year ago

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Finally making more progress on the pile of ST books I own but have yet to read. Here’s some good stuff from The Vulcan Academy Murders by Jean Lorrah.

[Image ID: The cover of the book The Vulcan Academy Murders. The background has lots of dark purple tones. In the foreground, Spock stands with a phaser pointed at a Vulcan creature with green skin, a cat-like face, a fin down its back, sharp claws, and a long tail. The creature is hissing down at Spock from a rock. End ID]

First of all, what is going on with this cover? Nothing like this happens in the book.

[Text ID: “Kirk recalled that all male Vulcans were married—had to be—and glanced at Spock. His First Officer, however, was very busy inspecting the almost un-touched wine in his glass.” End ID]

Interesting interesting. 👀

[Text ID: “Kirk had been given Spock’s room (underlined red by me) and McCoy the guest room in Sarek’s house—a house far from anything Kirk would ever have imagined as the home Spock had grown up in. He had envisioned either a sterile, unadorned ‘environment,’ or a castlelike ancestral residence. Instead, the house on the outskirts of ShiKahr was a simple single-family dwelling.” End ID]

This book is way too casual about Kirk sleeping in Spock’s childhood bedroom. Also, there’s no mention of where Spock is sleeping while they’re there???

[Text ID: “He remembered forcing Spock to control his emotions when he was five, and his schoolfellows taunted him for being ‘different.’ Under his father’s tutelage, Spock had refused to cry when the others shut him out of their games, calling him ‘Earther’ and ‘half-breed.’ Amanda had hidden her tears from their son, and Sarek had hidden his anger. Or had he? Perhaps I directed it at my son instead, he realized. He had intended to prepare Spock for whatever lack of acceptance he would face in life. And the message Spock received was that his own father did not accept him as he was, had to mold him into something he deemed acceptable.” End ID]

We love reflecting on our past mistakes. 👏🏼 We love character growth. 👏🏼

[Text ID: “’A computer cannot lie,’ said Spock. ‘Nevertheless, this one is giving false information.’ ‘Why don’t you try playing chess with it?’ came a voice from the doorway. Sarek turned to find Leonard McCoy, bouncing on his toes and grinning.” End ID]

I love them. I can picture this so perfectly.

[Text ID: “’What dost thou know of Surak?’ she asked finally—but her voice spoke more of perplexity than challenge. ‘What everyone knows: he was the founder of Vulcan philosophy. I know he is a personal hero to my friend Spock, the way Abraham Lincoln, from human history, is to me.’” End ID]

Kirk will bring up Abe Lincoln whenever he has a chance. That’s canon now.

[Text ID: “’You are not only anything, Spock. You are more, not less, because of your dual heritage. It is fruitless to wish now that I had made that clearer to you when you were a child.’ ‘You wanted me to be Vulcan.’ ‘That is true,’ Sarek agreed. ‘And you are Vulcan, representative of IDIC in its fullest sense.’ Spock studied his father. ‘You never put it to me that way. The last time you and I spoke as father and son, before I went to Starfleet Academy, you reminded me of how important it was that I think of myself as Vulcan. Do you remember your words, father?’ Sarek remembered. ‘I am Vulcan by birth. Your mother is Vulcan by choice. You are Vulcan by both birth and choice.’ ‘And then I disappointed you by making a different choice.’ Sarek searched his memory, trying to recover the logical reason for what now seemed completely irrational. Finally, he said simply, ‘I was wrong.’” End ID]

Yes! Let’s talk about our feelings! Let’s resolve those daddy issues!

[Text ID: “He went back to his room—Spock’s room, really. Kirk had brought with him a sturdy suit and boots, for Spock had suggested they might go camping in the mountains after the summer heat abated. (Last sentence underlined in red by me.) He put on the boots and the trousers to the suit, but decided the heavy shirt would be far too hot—" End ID]

Spock wanted to take them camping. 🥹

[Text ID: “‘He will recover, though?’ asked Spock. ‘Yeah—you can see him later, Spock,’ said the doctor. ‘He’s gonna be in considerable pain—you’re probably the only person he’ll be able to stand. Your son would’ve made a good doctor,’ he added to Sarek. ‘I don’t know how he does it, but he’s really good with people in pain.’ Spock’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected compliment from the man Sarek usually saw him trade barbs with. Then Leonard left them to go back to his patient, and Spock turned to Sarek. ‘May I ask you something, Father?’ ‘What is it, Spock?’ ‘When Mother became conscious, you called her…?’ ‘Beloved.’” End ID]

Spock being very concerned about Kirk’s injuries. Bones saying Spock is the only person Kirk would tolerate while in pain. Spock asking his father about expressing love for an outworlder. It’s a lot.

#the vulcan academy murders #jean lorrah #star trek #star trek novels #star trek tos #star trek books #spirk

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qveerthe0ry · 1 year ago

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With Peace on Earth

Summary: A brief tale of your first Christmas Eve in Jackson Word Count: 2,166 Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader Rating: 18 + Explicit (but not super descriptive smut) Warnings: 18+ mdni, established relationship, fluff, post-outbreak/Jackson, oral (m and gn receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, fingering (gn receiving), finger sucking, spit as lube, Joel is handsy, soft!joel, no y/n, no physical description of reader, reader is gender neutral, description of reader having a mother when they were young, reader celebrates Christmas, reader has no age, a tiny bit of sadness, nostalgia, no beta, let me know if I missed anything! Note: I wrote this very quickly to try and alleviate the writer's block because I have about 15 Pedro character WIPs (mostly Joel) and have yet to complete a single one. I also wrote this to express my feelings about how the holidays haven't really felt very magical for me for a while, but adopting new traditions has helped me find the magic again.

The streetlights are reflecting off of the fresh layer of snow. Despite it being the dead of night, the white ground makes everything just a bit brighter. The air is dry, and it smells like pine and open fires and for a second, when you focus really hard, it’s Christmas Eve, pre-apocalypse.

You can remember it plain as day. You can feel the air like it was yesterday, that palpable excitement as you spread a mixture of oats and glitter and sequins across your childhood front yard.

“So the reindeer know where to land Santa’s sleigh,” your mom had told you.

You can feel the warmth of her hand enveloping your tiny, freezing fingers. The warmth of her voice, of her gaze on you.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, try to remember that happy memories can be just that— and not a cruel taunting of the way things used to be and how different they are now.

You don’t realize how cold you actually are until two warm arms wrap around you, and hot breath creeps down the collar of your long johns.

“Gonna catch your death,” Joel mumbles.

You lean back into him, close your eyes, and take a big, deep breath. You smell the snow and the chimney smoke but also homemade oat soap and lavender laundry wash and it isn’t like it used to be, but maybe that doesn’t have to mean it’s worse.

“Was hoping I’d see Santa fly over,” you say, distracted, watching the stars in the crisp winter sky.

“You think he made it through all these years?”

Joel chuckles as he says it, and wraps his arms a tad tighter around you.

“I like to think so,” you shrug.

His soft laughter turns into a hum, turns into lips pressed under your ear.

“I love the way you are.”

It’s sweet. It’s sticky, nauseating words coming from a man you never thought would be anything but cold and calculated, when you first met. It warms you all the way through, maybe even melts some of the snow that’s blown its way onto the porch you’re standing on.

You want to say it back, want to tell him how much you love the way he is, the way his guarded heart shines through the cracks so bright it blinds you, the way his smiles make you weak so that it’s a good thing he’s so stingy with them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask instead.

He takes a long moment to respond. You can feel his teeth grinding together where his jaw is hooked over your shoulder, and the way his breath is coming in less than slow and steady.

“Just— It’s 20 years into the end of the world and you still have hope.”

You sigh and turn your head, seeking out his stubbled cheek, and press a kiss to the wind burnt skin.

“I found you after all this time, didn’t I?”

He huffs, and it sounds amused. You turn a bit in his hold to look at his eyes and the way his eyebrows gather together in the middle.

“And this is a blessing, not a curse?”

You want to kiss the skeptical look off of his face, so you do, hooking your arms around his neck and capturing his bottom lip between your own.

You feel the warmth of his palms through your shirt as they splay out across your back, fingers digging, working the muscles there like he’s kneading bread. You hum into his mouth and let your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck just as his tongue finds yours.

You can feel him slowly filling out his worn jeans where his hips press into your own and you think, with a chuckle you can’t contain, that this is the only Christmas gift you want from now on.

He pulls away at your soft laughter, his own eyes twinkling with an edge of humor.

“Are you stallin’ or somethin’?”

You shake your head as a smile splits your face from ear to ear.

“Never. Always a blessing, babe,” you tell him.

Your hands drop from his neck quickly to grab two handfuls of his ass and squeeze, and he glares at you as you press him just that much closer to you.

“I’ll give you a blessing,” he grumbles.

His head ducks down so that his lips can find your pulse point, and then his teeth, a playful nip with a hint of something more desperate and charged.

“Better not give the whole neighborhood an eye full,” you warn, half-heartedly. You know most people are asleep, and you know neither you nor Joel would really mind it.

Still, on the off-chance Tommy and Maria are still awake across the street, you don’t need to give the town leader any fuel for retaliation.

His breath comes out in whisps of steam around your face, minty with notes of whiskey.

“Go on ‘n get, then. Warm up by the fire.”

And you know by now not to protest, not when your prize for obeying is so worth being bossed around by the grumpy old man.

You undress by the fire and look around the living room while Joel makes sure the house is locked up.

It’s not quite decorated like an old Christmas movie, but it’s still festive, still as warm and full of cheer as you remember from before.

There’s a Christmas branch, really, a small little bush that Ellie had brought home to you a few weeks before. You had spent the day looking around for scraps of anything red, some ribbon, the sleeve of an old t-shirt, some berries on a bush that you were certain weren’t edible. You both worked on decorating the Charlie Brown-esque tree as Joel watched, grumbling, but plucking away at a rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ on his guitar as he complained.

There are three big socks hung up on the mantle of the fireplace, Joel’s, who griped about having to give up the precious fabric while he decorated them with you and Ellie at the kitchen table. ‘Decorated’ used lightly, as you only had a few errant pipe cleaners and the guts of a few raspberries as a red/pink dye.

And then there’s the whittled reindeer Joel had presented to you just days ago with a shy look on his face you don’t see very often. The wood is smooth and the antlers are intricate, and even though you can’t see it, you know there’s a little heart carved into the bottom of its back left hoof. It’s your favorite decoration out of all of them, displayed lovingly and proudly on the coffee table.

You grab an old blanket from the back of the couch and lay it in front of the fire just as Joel finds you again. His footsteps are lighter without his heavy boots on, and his fingers don’t feel as warm now as they grab your hips.

“Gonna lay down for me?”

His voice is low and gruff and calm, and all you can do is obey, and lie down naked on the fleece.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. The light of the fire makes all of his golden skin look even more so, dancing an orange glow across his scarred stomach and sparsely haired chest and the contrasting hardness and softness of his form that’s so familiar now.

You touch yourself gently as you watch him, light strokes, just to tease while you wait for him. With a grunt, he gets down to share the warm blanket with you, rolling you onto your side to face the flames.

“You remember that Mariah Carey Christmas song?” he asks as his rough hand curls around your hip.

You hide your smile in your own arm before answering.

“Not sure if I do. Sing a few bars for me.”

He groans and squeezes your flesh.

“You're pullin’ my leg."

“Yeah, I remember it.”

Remembering songs post-apocalypse is strange, the way you can not hear it for decades but still remember every note and word. Now, ringing through your head, is the high register of All I Want for Christmas is You, and you hum the chorus as Joel’s heavy prick presses against the small of your back.

“That’s how I feel,” he tells you.

His hand gets bolder, travels to the place where your thigh and hip meet, and then farther, between your legs, where it’s quite obvious what you want for Christmas, too.

“I feel the same, Joel.”

His breath puffs against your neck as he nuzzles that tender place behind your ear. He doesn’t often talk about his feelings for you, electing rather to show them through gestures. You like when he says it though, it makes it feel even more tangible, makes a nostalgic warmth tingle throughout your guts and your chest.

“Have you been good this year?” he asks you, a hint of mischief in his voice that makes you giggle.

“I think I have, yeah.”

“Debatable,” he grumbles, “but I guess you won’t get a lump of coal.”

He gets you on your back, and your breath hitches as he covers you with his big, solid body. His skin feels so incredible against yours, always, every time you’re together like this.

He starts to press open-mouthed kisses down your body, a searing hot trail across your most sensitive spots, until he’s mouthing around where you want him most.

“Please, baby, please.”

You know he likes to hear you beg for it. His sweet brown eyes find yours as he smiles, and the warmth of his gaze and the fire start to pull little pinpricks of sweat from your pores.

But he doesn’t tease you for long. You watch with wonder as his graying curls bounce between your legs, his attentive mouth working you tenderly but thoroughly. Your hand tangles in his hair for purchase as you lift your hips to urge him on.

He’s always so sloppy with it, and his saliva drips down onto the blanket, and you love it like this, so messy and haphazard, with no regard to anything but making you feel good, getting you off.

His fingers, three of them, tap at your parted lips. They’re so big as you take them in and swirl your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet, and your own spit seeps from the corners of your mouth. He groans, and you can feel it with his mouth on you.

His hips make small little moves to rut against the blanket between your open legs, and you want him inside, need to feel him inside you.

You tell him this much, though it’s muffled with his fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t let up until you’re teetering on the edge, moaning and whimpering around his flesh, gripping his hair so tight you don’t know how you haven’t pulled it out.

You whine when his mouth retreats.

“I know, I know. So greedy for it,” he coos, teasing.

You scowl at him, but it holds no heat, and he laughs at your impatience as he coaxes you back onto your side.

Behind you, Joel’s chest is solid and sweaty against your back. His fingers are solid too, sure but gentle, as he works them inside one by one to open you up with the help of your drool.

“So good for me. What a present,” he tells you.

It makes you impossibly hotter, and impossibly more in love with the man, and impossibly more impatient.

“I want my present now,” you sigh.

He tuts at you, against your shoulder blade, but you know he won’t deny you for longer because you can feel him leaking all over the skin of your back.

When he presses into you, slow as ever, you feel even more full than you usually do.

“Yes,” you pant, “like that. Just what I wanted.”

He fills you over and over, a leisurely but steady pace, and his hands roam across your slick, heated skin. As his body presses against yours, and as he reaches around to work you to your climax, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the realization that things are okay, things are great, and they’re allowed to be, despite the state of everything.

When you come, he comes too, deep inside you. His teeth bare down on your shoulder, and he grunts your name into your skin, and he tells you you’re perfect, and that you’re so good to him.

Joel doesn’t move far, after. He grabs an article of discarded clothing to clean you up. You know his back must kill like this, on the floor, but his happy breaths across your cooling skin make you think that this must be worth a little pain in the morning.

And when he sleepily mumbles, “Merry Christmas, Darlin’,” it sounds a lot more like “I love you.”

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syndrossi · 4 months ago

Note

I have the mother of all migraines right now, so I have nothing constructive to say, really, except that I imagine having an evil candle mess around in your brain provides amazing headaches as well. I feel for Daemon if this is true and wish him all the luck in finding a remedy. Excellent chapter, full of torture for poor Daemon. I really was like, "Oh my God, Syndrossi DID IT," when I realized Daemon was about to see how the twins died in their original universes and mistake it as a prophetic vision of how they may/will die in the future. Poor guy can only put so many pictures together when provided this limited amount of confusing puzzle pieces!! I'd like to eventually hear more of his thoughts on: - his eldest son being commander of the night's watch - WHY his eldest son is even a member of the night's watch - his youngest son being killed by a BARATHEON of all things - why House Baratheon is fighting House Targaryen forces - wtf where are all the dragons, no way should Rhaegar OR Jon be ANYWHERE without their DRAGONS, let alone without back up dragons from the rest of the family during a war/battle!? <--- in a bits and pieces and fuzzy memories or in eventual memories coming back to him sort of way or even in waking up terrified because NIGHTMARE in the middle of the night sort of way (wherein his sons provide comfort in cuddles and forehead kisses!) And Jon/Rhaegar's thoughts on: - candle consequences reflecting in Daemon's behavior - when they realize what happened: wtf why did daemon let the candle get him THEY WARNED HIM - oh no what did the candle do to their father - how to DESTROY THE CANDLE ONCE AND FOR ALL ... also, do you think if he complained of a headache or even just looked like he had a headache, Jon and Rhaegar would wrestle him into bed and turn out the sconces/close the curtains and cuddle him until he fell asleep?

If Daemon is king of anything, it's king of having only half the puzzle pieces he needs to ever meaningfully connect the dots, if I may mangle some metaphors. Enough clues from the boys' behavior to determine they had rough childhoods, but the only answer is "Allard." Enough clues from the vision to determine "death awaits!" but not "my children were reincarnated...from the future."

You'll get a lot of the Jon+Rhaegar reactions in the next chapter, so it's really whether enough pieces come back to Daemon to ruminate upon what the heck Jon was doing as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, what in the seven hells House Baratheon is up to, and WHERE THE FUCK his sons' dragons are. Someone else brought up that one thing he could conclude is that Shadow and Qelebrys are stolen/killed young, which, ya know, just one more thing for Daemon to be paranoid about.

I think the biggest puzzle would be why Rhaegar would agree to be separated from Jon rather than demand to go into the Night's Watch with him, and the conclusion would be that something/someone is coercing them. Does Jon accept exile to spare Rhaegar in some way? In the civil war later, does Rhaegar fight on the same side as the ruler who exiled Jon to the Night's Watch? If so, why? (Daemon thought he must be dead, but the true nightmare is if he thinks that HE'S the hostage, and he does outlive both sons.)

And to soften things a little, I've got a sweet little "Daemon with a headache" missing scene almost ready to post.

#resonant asks

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notacatdown · 1 month ago

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Missing scenes from ep 18

Copied my reddit post and edited my rough translation a bit. I think these missing scenes from the script would have connected episode 18 better. The script for the first 20 episodes were available for purchase on Taobao before the drama was released. I don't remember if these flashback scenes are ever shown later in the drama.

Bolded missing sections from the drama

18-40 CGI effects

△ The lotus in Mu Sheng’s heart lake suddenly turned completely black, leaving only half of the petal still red.

18-41 In the ruined temple of Shengjing (or any deserted place) at night

Demonized Mu Sheng: (Chaotic electronic music) I want... to kill him.

Ling Miaomiao: No! Ziqi, don't do this, don't hurt anyone!

Zhao Ruoshi: What is this… monster…?

Zhao Ruoshi: had just been thrown ruthlessly, and immediately surrendered under the pressure.

△ Mu Sheng was overwhelmed by anger at this time.

Demonized Mu Sheng: Get out of the way!

△ Ling Miaomiao refused to give in and just shook her head at him with red eyes.

△ Mu Sheng was furious and roared at Ling Miaomiao with great pressure.

△ He looked so scary that Ling Miaomiao trembled with fear. Her frightened look stunned Mu Sheng, and then he turned his head to look to the side. An old bronze mirror reflected his appearance, and he realized that he had turned into a monster.

△ Mu Sheng turned his head to look at Ling Miaomiao who was trembling.

Demonized Mu Sheng: (mumbling) You… are afraid of me.

~~~

(Flashbacks to the two previous transformations)

△ Thinking of the past, comparing her trembling now and the fear in her eyes, Mu Sheng felt as if a thousand arrows were piercing his heart.

Mu Sheng: You used to be… the only one who wasn’t afraid of my true appearance… Now you are afraid of me!

△ Ling Miaomiao mustered up her courage and shook her head firmly.

Ling Miaomiao: … I’m not afraid!

Demonized Mu Sheng: (roaring) You lied!

△His hurt and sad look became even more terrifying, and this roar made Ling Miaomiao tremble even more violently.

Ling Miaomiao: Ziqi! I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid of you...

Demonized Mu Sheng: You lied! Hairband… My hairband…

△ As a huge monster, the sight of the demonized Mu Sheng looking for his hairband in panic and helplessness is heartbreaking.

△ Ling Miaomiao stood up trembling, but was so frightened that her steps were wobbly as she walked forward.

△ At this time, Mu Sheng had tied his hairband and turned back into a small human figure kneeling on the ground exhausted.

△ Ling Miaomiao came behind him and stretched out her trembling hand to touch his back.

△ However, Mu Sheng shook her hand off.

△ Mu Sheng stood up and walked out without even looking at Ling Miaomiao.

18-42 Simple House/Room at night (I think this might be a flashback scene to what he was thinking when he locked himself in his room and wanted to purge his feelings for MiaoMiao in ep 17. In the drama, we only see him being traumatized by his mom crying.)

△ 【Memories of Mu Sheng】

△ Still in Mu Sheng’s childhood home, the charm girl is holding little Mu Sheng.

Charm Girl: Little Sheng'er, loving someone can make people no longer panic, calm their minds like water, and give rise to all gentle and kind thoughts. This is the best medicine in the world. If you meet that person, it can heal all the wounds in your heart.

△ [End of Mu Sheng Memories]

18-43 Mu Family Basement Prison Array at Night

△ 【Memories of Mu Sheng】

△ The resentful woman was locked in the center of the magic circle. She raised her head and looked at Mu Sheng (she didn’t show her face, otherwise it would be exposed that his mother was the resentful woman in the cell in the basement).

△ The resentful woman: Little Sheng’er, never fall in love with anyone, because loving someone… can also make people greedy, angry, stupid. Jealousy, bigotry, resentment, violence, self-loathing...

△ [End of Mu Sheng's memories]

18-44 In a ruined temple (or any deserted place) at night

△ Ling Miaomiao stood up and wanted to chase after him.

Ling Miaomiao: Ziqi!

△ Without even turning his head, Mu Sheng made a hand gesture to create a light wall barrier between them. Ling Miaomiao slapped the barrier, and her voice could not be heard, nor could it be traced out.

△ She watched Mu Sheng leave.

△ Mu Sheng didn’t look back.

#永夜星河 #love game in eastern fantasy #missing scenes #ep 18 #ling miaomiao #mu sheng #love bracelet

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aheathen-conceivably · 2 years ago

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Ever since Zelda had told Josephine of her conversation with Violette, she had thought of nothing but her own mother. Despite her faults, Jo had always known that she had her mother to look toward; her mother who had been so beautiful, so like her in spirit and in appearance.

Watching her had taught Josephine how to navigate the world in her skin, how to interpret people’s assumptions and their glares. Jo had modeled nearly every aspect of her public persona after her, from how she carried herself to how she did business and beguiled others.

Then when she thought of Violette, of Zelda’s innocent outlook and Antoine’s jaded one, she was filled with nothing but fear for her niece.

So one afternoon after speaking with Zelda of her plans, Josephine went to the club to find Violette in her nursery. Jo stopped in the doorway for a moment, watching Violette play in the corner where she had once sat with her mother in her own childhood bedroom, listening to tales of her life and dreaming of being just like her one day.

Sensing her presence, Violette turned and ran toward her, immediately embracing her aunt in a welcome hug.

“Lottie, darling, would you like to sit? I’ve brought you a present.”

The child’s eyes lit up and she immediately did as she was told, ever acquiescent if it meant that she would receive something. Josephine handed Violette a small music box with a ballerina twirling in the middle of it. Violette gasped on sight, entranced by the small spinning figurine and the haunting music coming from the contraption.

“My mother gave me this, Little Lottie. Your grand-mère. When she did she told me that every time I looked at it I should remember I was beautiful. Can you do that for me and your momma? Remember that you are beautiful no matter what.”

As she ran to hug her aunt in thanks, Violette’s eyes still sparkled from watching the dancing figurine. Josephine cusped her head in her hand, lifting Violette’s eyes to meet her own, “Always remember that I’m here for you, okay? That you can talk to me no matter what because I love you and I will always be here, I promise.”

Josephine was surprised by how much Violette seemed to understand her words. Although as the music box played and the room began to morph into her childhood bedroom, Jo realized that it was perhaps nothing but her own reflection in the young girl’s eyes.

“Okay, Aunt Jo. Can I go play with my dolls now? Do you want to join me?”

“Yes, my little Lottie. I would love to.”

#1928 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #the darlingtons #1920s #violette darlington #josephine duplanchier

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kirk-spock-fics · 10 months ago

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hello! I'm looking for a fic that I read but have since been unable to find. It's sort of an arranged marriage fic. Spock needs to marry Jim to stay on board the enterprise for some reason, but the thing I remember most is Spock taking his marital duties very seriously and he would give Jim a flower each day (or often). I would really appreciate any help in finding this fic, it's so good! Thanks!

Hello!

The only fic I could find that matched your description of Spock bringing Jim flowers often is

Vulcan's Most Eligible Bachelor by museaway

mature aos, kirk/spock, kirk/spock prime victorian vulcans, courtship, language of flowers, love letters, marriage proposals words: 30,146 'Jim wasn't the one who saved Vulcan, but he's the one on a transport right now for a month-long stay as an honored guest. What he doesn't realize is they're all going to try and court him…including his first officer.'

It's not quite an arranged marriage or fake marriage fic but it's the closest I could find that included the part about flowers.

If anyone knows which fic this is, please share it in the comments or in an ask/submission!

Here are some other fics where Jim and Spock have to fake a marriage/relationship so they can stay together on the Enterprise:

My Love Is Bigger Than Your Love by gunstreet

explicit tos, kirk/spock fake marriage, marriage of convenience, jealous kirk, love confessions, first kiss, slash words: 29,065 'When Spock's mother sends him a message with a list of suitors he must choose from in short order lest he be barred from returning to his homeworld, his only alternative is to bring his own chosen spouse to Vulcan for his parents to meet for themselves. Spock not actually having a spouse is hardly a problem in Jim's mind. However, his brilliant plan has the potential to backfire in ways Jim could easily have predicted�� and ways he could not have.'

Verisimilitude by CateAdams

explicit CW: graphic depictions of violence tos, mirror!kirk/mirror!spock, mirror universe marriage of convenience, action/adventure, romance, slash words: 15,527 'A new directive from the Imperial Fleet requires all officers of command rank to enter into legal marriage. On the ISS Enterprise, the order’s purpose is obvious: to allow political operatives to gain influence within the lucrative exploits of the flagship and divert more profits and power to the Admiralty. As the deadline approaches, the captain and first officer of the Enterprise devise an unlikely solution that forces a deeply personal reckoning.'

a sequence that you never learned by annataylor

explicit TW: implied childhood sexual abuse aos, kirk/spock kid fic, fake marriage, getting together, first time words: 64,624 'When Jim gets it in his head to adopt an eight year old Vulcan, Spock presents a logical solution to the issue of Jim's humanity: marriage to a Vulcan citizen.'

the warp and weft of your being by tardigradeschool

teen CW: past implied abuse aos, kirk/spock fake marriage, sharing a bed, hurt/comfort, crew as family, mutual pining words: 7,701 'When getting legally married to Spock is the only way to keep him on the ship, Jim is more than willing to do so. (In fact, upon reflection, it turns out that there are very few things he wouldn't do for Spock.)'

You Could Call It Love by lurikko

mature tos, kirk/spock, post-canon getting together, fake/pretend marriage, slow burn, unresolved sexual tension words: 45,791 'If marrying Spock is what it’s going to take to get them both back on Enterprise for another five-year mission, then Jim Kirk damn well is going to marry Spock.'

Nature of the Bond by jadztone

explicit tos movies, kirk/spock fake/pretend relationship, temporary amnesia, misunderstandings, mutual pining, sharing a bed, friends to lovers, old married spirk, pon farr, slash words: 32,429 'Just before they are to head back to Earth after the fal-tor-pan, Spock detects that he has a bond with Jim. Still having gaps in his memory, he attempts to analyze the nature of the bond. Spock concludes that he and Jim are bondmates, and says as much in front of Starfleet brass. Jim is shocked, but goes along with it out of fear that Starfleet would declare Spock unfit for duty. After telling Spock the truth, they agree to continue letting Starfleet believe that their bond is romantic in nature, while both privately wish that it was.'

#lost fic #fake relationship #fake marriage #marriage of convenience #flowers #spirk fic #k/s fanfic #thanks for the ask!

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artemis-potnia-theron · 1 year ago

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for the pagan ask meme: 🎭❤️🏛🔥

🎭 - What is an emotionally impactful or a silly worship-related experience you've had?

When Artemis revealed her name to me. I had been worshipping her under a different (and incorrect) name for years, and it never felt right. I commissioned multiple tarot readings to try and get a different perspective. I was on a plane when I opened the results, and her name showed up in every single commission. A light turned on immediately. After so long trying to find my way to her, it felt like a path had finally been cleared. It was similar to the feeling of falling into your mother's arms after having a nightmare. I also burst into tears and starting crying on the plane lol which was very embarrassing (P.S. I love you my Lady, but couldn't you have waited until I was in private? 😭)

❤️ - What's one memory of your practice that you reflect the most fondly on?

Dude I have so many. But off the top of my head, I remember when another tarot reader told me that the Queen of Swords - which I thought represented Artemis - was actually a representation of me in the divination sessions between she and I. I'd been drawing that card for years and never got the message. She'd been calling me strong for years, and I never realized. It was a very 'I've been trying to tell u this forever and u never listen to me' moment from Artemis 🙃. But it was also such an honor to know that this is how she saw me.

🏛️ - Do you have a favorite statue or temple to your deity(ies)? If yes, what is it?

Yes!! This one!

I got her in Prague during an especially spiritually important summer. But I lost my luggage travling home, and for two weeks, her statue was just flying around, trying to get back to me. I had resigned myself to the reality that I wasn't going to get her back when the luggage was miraculously found!! The employee I talked to said he'd never been a bag get that lost and still be found. Every time I see this statue, I think about how incredible and rare it was to have found her at all - both the statue herself and worshipping her in general. And I've adorned her with a lot of important things - my mother's old wedding ring is her hairband, my favorite childhood hairchip make up the feathers, she's has a deer antler and coyote claw around her neck (two of my favorite animals) and lots of other little trinkets 💜

🔥 - Do you have a favorite myth or tale from your pantheon or others?

Oooooooh dude just one?? All of Artemis' myths are important in my practice, but Iphigenia's story - especially the whole 'replacing her with a doe and then whisking her off to safety' is so touching. Just thinking about it makes me fall in love with Artemis all over again.

Thanks for the ask!!

- Taylor

#ask #ask game #artemis #artemis deity #artemis goddess #artemis worship #artemis devotee #artemis devotion #deity work #deity worship

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dappersautismcreature · 1 year ago

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i think, i think i really love q!bagi and imma defend her as much as i do qbbh like,, im sorry cellbit defenders i am still one of you but some of yall really need to realize that you are putting all of the problems of the mystery twins relationship onto bagi and just,, thats a bit of an issue.

its not all on her to repair cellbit, or her and cellbit's relationship. and insinuating that it is,, is,, well,, falling into a bit of misogyny?

she's gone through shit too, and what happened to cellbit was completely not her fault, so why is she mean and bad and dumb for having feelings about how much he's changed? for needing more than a few days to accept this change? for reacting "wrong" to this completely fucked up turn of events?

as much as bagi needs to come to terms with how much her brother has changed, and has not needed her,, cellbit needs to realize that he was not the only victim of the federation, and that while his childhood was stolen from him, bagi's was also stolen, when her brother went missing and she had to dedicate her life to finding him.

as always, i will reflect on my own experiences as a sibling. it is best to assume with twins, with siblings, that one is not more of a victim of circumstance than the other. they were both fuckin kids, and they were both victims of horrible things, stop putting cellbit on a pedestal of "more broken" or "should be treated as more traumatized or delicate"

idk i just dont want people to put bagi down for reacting in any way because im sorry but she's gonna be heavily traumatized too and its not on only her to be the grown adult here. she shouldn't be forced to 'mother' a 'broken' man, i hate that trope -____-

#me and my twin both went through trauma and you could call my sister the 'more traumatized' but the facts are i was heavily fucked up by #those circumstances too #and it should not be on only me to fix her #fuckin hell ig im just ugh #mind ur misogyny too #qsmp #q!bagi #q!cellbit #qsmystery twins #q!mystery twins

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year ago

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"You Up For Joining Us?"

A Part II to my first Bill Scully POV fic here; and dedicated, again, to @baronessblixen for poking the Muse back into writing mode~.

*****

Bill had arranged it with Dana ahead of time: Dad’s first mates guarding the perimeters while Charlie, Hessa, and the kids stood inflexibly in the middle.

As usual, their mom slipped away from the rules, tying her trembling bereavement to Dana's strength; and Tara drifted closer to him, burrowing tighter into his grip until Bill pulled her against his shoulder.

Charlie’s grief hissed out in great huffs of air, Dana’s voice cut the silence with undetectable questions, and their mother's answers wavered, distant and dismayed.

“Bill, don’t you let go,” Tara whispered, both aware he was the one trembling.

And all Bill could think about was Melissa, taking the long route home over the vast, watery grave of the late Captain Scully.

*****

The house was quiet: Dana had left immediately after the service to work, face closed and lips sealed; Maggie had slipped from room to room until she sealed herself away to cry; and Charlie had wrangled his rich blood wife and two sons into the car to revisit old Maryland Scully haunts.

“I should call Melissa,” Bill rasped, rubbing a hand across his eyes, wondering if his father would already have done so. So many “done so”s still to learn.

“I’ll give her a ring if she doesn't check in by five.” Tara plopped a husband-sized mug of childhood memories and cinnamon sticks on his side of the couch and pulled a wife-sized chair up next to him. “Why don’t you put your feet up, Sweetie? I made Mom’s apple cider you love.”

“How do you always know what to do?”

“Because I have you captured between… what did Dana say were the ribs right on top of the heart?”

“I can’t remember.” He sank down next to her, mood softening despite the Charlie-shaped headache throbbing between his eyes. “Did you get to talk to her?”

“Mm, no. She was… I think she wanted to be left alone. She had her face on, y’know?”

“Angry? At you? What'd she say?”

“Nothing! She wasn’t... she was, y’know, withdrawn. Quiet. So, I left her alone.”

The couch, Bill realized, was comfortable; and he slipped his dress shoes off to half sit, half recline along the length of it. That, and the drink was good. “There’s something a little extra in this, Honey. What’d you put?”

“Dad’s ashes.”

Both of them snapped up at Charlie’s voice, his towering torso and knitted brows appearing in the doorway a second later. “I’m driving Hessa and the kids back to the hotel. We still doing the photo albums later?” The pretense was hollow: everyone knew he and the wife would find and excuse and be out before it got too dark.

Bill wondered why Charlie still bothered. “Yeah, if Mom’s up for it.”

“Great. See you guys then.” The torso and scowl slid away, light steps tripping over themselves down the hall and out the slammed door after a few customary noises.

“Just couldn’t keep it to himself, could he? Had to spread it to everyone else.”

Tara sighed and reached for one of his cinnamon sticks. Both knew they were hers, anyway.

*****

A few weeks after the police and FBI and press had turned his sister’s apartment upside down, Bill walked in and was nearly crushed by his mother’s fierce hug and flashing, determined eyes.

“Dana will be back soon, and you know how fastidious she is about her apartment. I want this place ready for her when she gets here.”

“Mom--”

“And we won’t argue about it, William Scully, especially when there’s work to be done.”

They worked until the moon streamed through the garishly taped window, sporadically reflecting off of tiny, bloodied specks of glass previously concealed in the carpet.

“Hidden in plain sight,” his mother had muttered; and Bill quickly distracted her with Melissa's spotty news and his and Tara’s five-year plan: a child hopefully by next year, or an incumbent relocation to better technology in California.

He didn’t tell her no one expected Dana to return, and that he and Tara decided to name their first daughter after his lost sister.

*****

Melissa picked up on his fourth attempt.

“Billy, is something up? Mom called, but I’m usually not at this number--”

“Melissa, Dana’s back.”

“Day’s back? Where’d they find her? Is she okay?”

“She’s in a coma.” The seconds hand ticked louder and louder in his ears. “Look, Melissa, I know you hate hospitals, but Mom needs you there."

“Of course. I’ll join you three as soon as I can. Is Charlie with you? Tara, Hessa?”

“It’s just Mom.”

More silence, then a pitying, “Oh, Bill….”

“Can’t be helped, so keep an eye on them for me, Missy-- and leave the woowoo talk out. Mom’s got enough on her plate as it is.”

“I’ve got a bus to catch and a flight plan to figure out, so I'll be unreachable for a bit. And don’t call Mom because it’ll be quicker for me to get there. Love you, call you soon.”

“Love you, Miss.”

*****

Melissa was back in California, wiling the hours away with tea and toffees for Tara until night fell and the latter went to bed. Bill found her stuffed in the corner of their temporary love seat, plucking contemplatively at the cheap threads poking from its arm.

“Burning the midnight oil? That’s more Dana’s style.”

She smiled warmly and leaned over to yank the pathetic thrift store cushion from Bill’s designated indent. “I haven’t had a talk with her like that for years. Now, she’s so…. She used to have such free-flowing energy, but she’s blocked all the paths off into their own, separate loops instead of connecting them back together. Like us." Melissa locked eyes, rebukingly shaking her head at the Scully stubbornness. "We just got her back, but we're all no different than we were right before Dad died.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do? Ditch Tara and fly across the country on the hope that Dana or Charlie will clear their schedules and meet up? Between the Navy and Tara’s treatments, I don’t have time to iron out the family problems; and all you’ve gotten them to admit is that Dana wishes she had more time for us, and Charlie only remembers we exist once or twice a year."

Melissa slowly nodded, blinking once, twice, in silence.

“Missy? Is there something wrong?”

“Mom had a dream again.”

He scoffed and looked at the ceiling in disbelief. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“It’s important, Bill. Mom had a dream like the one before Dana disappeared, only… she didn’t see who was in danger or why. And she’s frightened to death-- afraid it’ll happen all over again. And even if she were to tell Dana, Day's so closed off she won't even listen to her inner voice anymore."

“Men and women put their lives on the line of duty every day, Miss, and nothing bad happens. The nut that took Dana lucked out on a one-in-a-million chance; and it won’t happen again no matter how many guys she puts away. If Dana wants to waste her second chance on the field and her superiors greenlight her antics, then there’s nothing I or you or Mom or even Charlie can do to change her mind.”

Melissa fiddled with her fingers, spacey and distant. “It’s not just that, Billy. I’ve had a feeling, lately.” She returned to the present, studying his face for a long moment before clutching, desperately, at his arm. “And it feels permanent.”

The irrational conviction in her eyes was both moving and goading. “Then feel this, Missy: a year from now, Mom’ll only be having nightmares about the baby crawling around this rat trap apartment until a house on base opens up. Dana will take just enough time off to visit for the holidays, Tara might dye her hair red again to fit into the Scully family Christmas photo, and we’ll all pretend you aren’t handing off hosting duties to your roommate while secretly keeping your niece to yourself.”

Melissa was charmed, if not relieved. “With our luck, it’ll be another boy. Besides, you and Tara want one, anyway.” Elbowing him playfully in the gut, she scooted over and shoved the pillow against his shoulder. Voice softening, she wistfully added, “But if it were a girl, I’d be devoted to her. We Scully women have so few people to look out for us.”

*****

There was no Christmas, no baby, and no warning; only another somber gathering, one less family member, and a gray, lifeless inscription:

MELISSA

SCULLY

BELOVED SISTER

AND DAUGHTER

1962-1995

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic~

#txf #fic #Bill Scully POV #Part II #“You Up For Joining Us?”#Bill Scully #Tara Scully #Melissa Scully #Scully #Maggie Scully #Charlie Scully #I don't know WHY I made Charlie bitter #bitter Charlie isn't my favorite flavor #but... he just became that way?#I dunno #maybe he's misunderstood #and ALSO this is from Bill's POV after all #randomfoggytiger's fic

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