#but the world is ending and things are complicated

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today 🤗 This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[hrrtshape]

HEYY IT'S ME!

I wanted to ask how to shift on command! Since I believe EVERYTHING is achievable and it is not about luck (I mean only a bit) (Oh and btw I really hope you don't hate me cuz I lwk think you do and I'd be rlly glad if u replied)

shifting on command is not some elusive, esoteric wizardry . . .

it’s not a slot machine you keep pulling hoping the universe will take pity on you. it’s not a rare meteorological event. it’s a decision. and you make decisions all the time. coffee or matcha. knee-high boots or ballet flats. lie to your mother or tell her you’re at a friend’s house, technically not untrue. shifting is just another one of those decisions. i’m going. i’ve gone. end scene.

the real trick is that there is no trick.

people love to make it sound complicated because complexity is comforting. if it’s complicated, then failure is understandable. if it’s complicated, then maybe it’s not your fault. but it’s not complicated. it’s unnervingly simple. it’s so simple that your brain wants to throw a fit about it, wants to drag its feet and demand an instruction manual with a 10-step troubleshooting guide, but no. no. that’s not how this works.

here’s how this works : you decide. you pick up your little consciousness like a small puppy and you go. and you don’t sit there after and poke at it like an overcooked soufflé, wondering if it worked. of course it worked. it’s you. you always work.

so next time you want to shift…don’t wait. don’t attempt. don’t put on this big theatrical performance of effort, like you’re proving to the universe how badly you want it. just go. like it’s the easiest thing in the world. because it is.

and no, i don’t hate you. not even a little. not even at all…….now run along and change reality like it’s your job. because, frankly, it is !!!!!

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Social climbers and the relationship with power: Ada's tragedy

You buddies don't dimension how much I raised my eyebrows when I saw this scene:

Ada climbing on top of a deer (a very typical symbolic representation of noble masculinity) who is trying to fiercely shake her off while she desperately clings to him with all her might...

And is THAT what makes her have a flashback of her relationship with Tamerline? Buddy, I'm putting on a hat to take it off.

Anyway, this means I have enough material to talk about Ada.

Social climbers and power

Ada is, apparently, a social climber: she longs for a social space to which she feels she is entitled, but to which she considers herself not to belong. This is something that can give us clues about her socio-economic situation in life: social climbers are extremely common in spaces such as, for example, the child of a first generation of professionals or of parents who have been able to provide better economic passages despite not belonging to social elites.

So, one thing to be clear about the way Ada relates to people in general is through this lens: the way she tries to move up socially (i.e. to power) is through her relationships with people, if she is close to a person who has power or belongs to an elite, then she is accessing these spaces. If that person does not have it, then she uses the relationship to reassert the position she wants to have.

Ada's personal tragedy is that this way of relating to the world puts her in an extremely vulnerable position with respect to her interpersonal relationships because, if they were not asymmetrical from the beginning, she makes them asymmetrical. It's as true that Ada gets into complicated relationships willingly as it is that she is a victim of people like Tamerlane. You know, the same logic of tragedies.

So let me do a little review of all the relationships Ada has had in the comic, how they go and what is the pattern they follow.

The triad of discord

There are three things that all of Ada's relationships have in common (except one, but we'll get to that): 1) She seeks to get some sort of validation from the other person. 2) She tends to push the person's boundaries, even if they were explicitly stated. 3) Even if the person has some degree of affection or sympathy for her, Ada will never be her priority over other things. Be these things other people, personal desires, etc, etc.

So let's review this a bit.

Let's start with the bastard of Thomas Tamerline. If anything their interaction during chapter 110 makes clear to us is that the guy is quite explicit with the fact that this relationship is purely sex for him (and he possibly enjoys the degree of control he exerts over her), Ada repeatedly tries to get some validation or affection from him and the guy barely complies with the bare minimum.

That he ends up murdering her indicates that, regardless of motive, he sees her as an inconvenience to his personal desires that must be gotten out of the way and, as the icing on the cake, puts the responsibility on her.

Now on to Prospero. His resemblance to Thomas is obvious enough to understand why Ada would be attracted to him and constantly seeks to touch him or be near him, no matter how much Prospero tells her that he is not interested in her. This is an attitude she has even before Annabel encourages her by saying that “Prospero is just being shy”.

Eventually it happens what it does: Prospero is fed up with her and doesn't hesitate to tell her so to her face. We can argue whether or not he's justified in being this cruel, but by the standards of this argument that's irrelevant: the important thing here is that Prospero doesn't care about Ada's feelings enough to be nicer.

Let's go now to Lenore. Ada is extremely mean to her until Lenore demonstrates that she was able to pass the maze test on her own. This is, in Ada's eyes, a demonstration of power and she, as she is wont to do, will not pass up the opportunity to get on the good side of a person who could be a potential rising star.

This is cut short by her same group, but they reconnect at the mansion trial. Since Lenore is not interested in relating on power terms (for better and for worse), here they have the opportunity to share on more equal terms on both their parts. Yes, Lenore is also doing this for personal reasons, but it doesn't take away from the merit.

Ada ends up overstepping boundaries and betraying Lenore at the end of the trial. And after she learns of her Ada's involvement in Duke's kidnapping, well, all she has to say when Pluto fills her in is says that shitty relationship is strangely appropriate.

Yes, Lenore may have come to have some degree of affection for her, but Ada is no more important than her friends and after getting into something like that, to hell with her.

With Annabel things start to get more interesting. These two have a cocktail of projection and resentment between them: Annabel is all Ada wants, so she treats her like a pretty accessory that gives her status (something that definitely oversteps Annabel's boundaries, even if she hasn't expressed them because it doesn't suit her) and, to Annabel, Ada is little more than an important piece she can take advantage of.

This take it with a grain of salt because there are some “buts.”

On Ada's side, that she seeks help from Annabel when Montresor is being a fucking psycho is an indicator that she felt, at least, protected by Annabel. But as is often the case with her, the plan Annabel is carrying out is no more important than Ada, she just lets it happen.

Twice. Under the circumstances, Annabel chooses to help Prospero over Ada.

However, Ada is not indifferent to Annabel: she is definitely furious with Montresor after what he did (In fact, this is the only scene so far where we have seen Annabel exercising any form of physical aggression)., she is uncomfortable when Prospero is mean to Ada, and there are a few small frames where she looks at her with sincere pity.

But again, that won't make Annabel prioritize her over her own plans.

Finally, we come to the most interesting relationship here.

Ada definitely cares about Morella, but that won't make constantly denigrating her a reaffirmation of the position she believes (or wants) to have: making comments like Morella's food “is poor.” Ada pecks at the boundaries with a stick, yet these things -for some reason- don't seem to bother Morella, who is able to see the good in her despite her bad attitudes. Until she stops doing it because not only participating in Duke's kidnapping, but also trying to play cool by making excuses is out of bounds even for Morella.

But an interesting thing happens here too, remember how Ada is never a priority for anyone? Well, for a moment in her relationship with Morella it looks like this is going to be different. Morella makes a feeble attempt to defend her when Montresor makes her bark and puts a shield in her face when Prospero attacks her in the mansion trial.

Unfortunately for Ada, Morella is someone too lacking in backbone and too concerned with following the rules to stand up for her when it really counts.

After Ada manifests and bursts into tears, she pushes Morella away from her with a shove.

Morella says she wants to help, but all it takes is for Poppet to remind her that she needs to get back the Merits she lost for Morella to finally give in.

The two people Ada considered her friends have left her: Annabel has chosen to help Prospero and Morella has left.

That's when Montresor enters.

And here begins the first break in Ada's toxic pattern of relationships...but not for the better.

Ada and Montresor

Oddly enough, these two are a good match...for horrible reasons. Montresor, like Ada, is a social climber who uses interpersonal relationships to get closer to power, only in a different way: where Ada sticks it to people who hold power, Montresor uses others to reassert himself in a position of power. So, Ada feeds Montresor's ego, while he can pretend to like her enough to keep Ada happy.

Because yes, Ada and Montresor's relationship fulfills most of the bad patterns in relationships that Ada usually has: she seeks validation in this relationship and Montresor definitely doesn't prioritize her (she constantly has to compete with Will for Montresor's attention, for example). But the important thing here is that, for once, Ada isn't the one constantly pecking at the other person's boundaries: it's Montresor who does it.

He pushes her around, teases her, calls her by other women's names, and it's probably only a matter of time before this starts to get worse. What's interesting is that Ada is able to get upset when this happens, unlike what we see in the flashback to her relationship with Thomas.

So there is something changing here.

Conclusion

I'm not sure where this is going to lead, but one thing is for sure: Montresor is a reflection of a toxic pattern of behavior that Ada has in her relationships and if she's starting to get uncomfortable with it, it's not just because the abyss is staring back at her, but because she's getting herself into a situation too similar to her relationship with Thomas to not know how it might end.

Add to that this:

This is the first time in the comic that Ada has had such a selfless gesture for another person. And that selfless gesture is something as big as putting herself in danger to save someone. As if all this wasn't enough, it's been to save Annabel: one of the two friends who turned their backs on her when she needed them.

I don't know if this will be the start of her character development or we should interpret it as deathflags placed over her head, but one thing is for sure: whatever is going to come out of here has quite a bit of potential.

[welcometololaland]

apologies in advance for the extremely long rant but i woke up this morning with such mixed emotions. on the one hand, i feel so much satisfaction for the way these characters had their stories told. on the other, there is sadness that there's no more of that story to tell (at least, in canon. long live fanfiction!)

and i was thinking mostly about episode one and The First Meeting and That Honky Tonk Scene and how much tk and carlos have grown since that point. and even though canonically speaking, carlos was serious about tk from the very start, how could either of them possibly have known what their lives would become from that very first dance?

tk in the rain was lost and deeply hurt. he was guarded and pissed off about the world and distant and covering up the festering wound of loneliness with a prickly exterior and casual sex. but i think it's obvious that deep down, he craved acceptance and love and BELONGING and affection. this is the same man who proposed to save a relationship! he's always been an incurable romantic in my eyes. one thing i always ruminate on when it comes to tk is his passion for caring, and how that contrasts a little with the occasionally caustic attitude he has in season 1. i think in fic we often cast carlos in that caretaker role (which he is), but i think tk (through his career, his dedication to jonah, accompanying his dad (and later) tommy to their medical appointments, his love for random animals) also has a deep need to care for others and be cared for. i see tk in the pilot as someone who has all these aching, unrelenting and unfulfilled needs, who has decided that the world has shown him he isn't worthy of them. it's someone who has recently been on the precipice of giving up. it's someone who is so tired of being let down that he's decided the best thing to do is to simply stop caring. and he has NO IDEA how much his life is going to change, how committed his future husband is going to be, and how much meaning his life is going to have, both in a caretaker sense, as well as being cared for.

carlos also carries so much pain in the pilot, but i think the interesting thing about how carlos' story is told is that it's not obvious from that episode (whether by design or simply...that rafael silva was criminally under-utilised in season 1). slowly, through the seasons, we begin to unpack carlos' complicated feelings towards his upbringing and his father, his deep respect for, and loyalty to, his parents, his need to exceed everyones' expectations (highly relatable content). i think it eventually becomes obvious that carlos has so many ideas of the person HE NEEDS TO BE in a relationship, but so many times, he finds himself completely out of his depth (the loft purchase, the secret marriage) because tk never represents the picture-perfect love story that carlos perhaps envisaged but actually something tangible, real, messy and yet perfect in its own way that not only fulfils him but CHALLENGES him and leads him to this extraordinary personal growth. carlos, to me, represents the picture of what a supportive and loving relationship can represent - not only happiness and fulfilment and deep affection for someone else, but finding a new way to love yourself. i bet if carlos had a crystal ball in the pilot, he wouldn't have characterised all the challenges that he and tk will eventually face as the idealistic relationship, and maybe would be uncomfortable with the mistakes that both of them make in that journey, but i don't think carlos in the rain could ever have imagined how deeply fulfilled he will feel with the life he ends up having.

i know this isn't perfectly expressed but im in my feelings and this is my blog and you get my stupid word vomit. tarlos are the epitome to me of the greatest power of love - the love you CHOOSE, the love you commit to, and the love that irrevocably changes you.

did i use a twilight reference for the last line? you can't prove it.

x

[xoxorealitygalore]

Plan B 3

Jey Uso x Afro-Brazilian OC

Summary: In her thirties and single after a breakup, Hamisa decides she wants to become a mother, despite her friends' and family's objections. Unable to wait any longer, she chooses to have a baby on her own. However, she unknowingly ends up using her ex-boyfriend sperm after he drunkenly swapped her donor’s sample for his own. As Hamisa raises her child, she starts noticing striking similarities between her ex-boyfriend and her baby, leading to questions about the true origins of her child's conception.

Plan B Masterlist

Taglist: @xbriexx @christinabae @blackchickinthedesert @princess-saki1 @skyesthebomb @raya-hunter01 @theusotwinzcom @yana3sworld

Previous

Hamisa sat on the couch, her hands tightly clutching the sides of her mug of tea, the warm liquid barely registering against the coldness that had settled inside her. Her mind felt like a hurricane, everything swirling, crashing, and threatening to overwhelm her. She had barely spoken to anyone since her confrontation with Joshua. The raw emotions from that conversation still lingered, a constant reminder of the betrayal she had felt, the shock she had experienced, and the anger that kept bubbling to the surface.

But now, she had to talk to someone. She needed to tell Pamela, the one person who had always been her sounding board, her friend, her anchor. Pamela had always been there for her, even when things weren’t easy. Hamisa needed that now more than ever.

It wasn’t just about Joshua’s confession. It was everything from the confusion, the pain, the uncertainty of how to move forward. There was a part of Hamisa that felt violated by Joshua’s actions, and another part of her that was clinging to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to navigate this mess.

When Pamela arrived at her house, Hamisa was already waiting by the door. Pamela, sensing the gravity in the air, didn’t waste any time.

“Hamisa, what’s going on?” Pamela asked, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Hamisa didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped aside, motioning for Pamela to enter. Once they were settled, Hamisa’s hands were trembling as she finally spoke.

“Pamela, I don’t even know where to begin,” Hamisa started, her voice strained. “I had to go see Joshua. I wanted him to take the DNA test… and I found out something I never expected.”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Hamisa took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. “I found out that Jhream... she’s his daughter. Not the donor’s. He swapped the sample, Pamela. He swapped it, and now I know that the little girl I’ve been raising for the last eight months is biologically his.”

Pamela’s eyes widened in shock. Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came out at first. She had known that things between Hamisa and Joshua had been complicated, but this—this was something entirely different.

“Wait, hold on a second,” Pamela finally said, shaking her head as if she needed to process what Hamisa had just told her. “You’re telling me that Joshua… took the sperm sample and replaced it with his own? That’s... that’s insane.”

“I know,” Hamisa replied, her voice trembling with the emotion she could barely contain. “I feel like I’ve been living a lie. How could he do that to me? How could he mess with something so important?”

Pamela sat back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap as she stared at her friend, deep in thought. For a long moment, she said nothing, her gaze distant, as if she was carefully weighing the situation. Hamisa was too exhausted to fill the silence, her eyes focused on the floor as she fought the urge to cry.

Then, finally, Pamela spoke, her voice thoughtful but surprisingly calm.

“You know, Hamisa, I can’t say that what Joshua did was okay. I can’t excuse what he did to you. But...” Pamela paused, her gaze softening as she looked at her friend. “But maybe it’s not all bad.”

Hamisa’s head snapped up, confusion washing over her. “What do you mean, not all bad? Pamela, he lied to me. He stole something that wasn’t his. How is that not bad?”

Pamela exhaled slowly, leaning forward with a quiet intensity. “Look, I’m not saying what Joshua did was right, but think about it, Hamisa. At least Jhream isn’t some stranger’s child. At least it’s someone you know, someone who loves you, even if it’s messy and complicated right now.”

Hamisa blinked, taken aback by Pamela’s perspective. “So, you’re saying... this is some kind of a blessing in disguise? That I should be grateful my daughter is his?”

Pamela nodded slowly, her expression serious but compassionate. “I’m not saying you should ignore the fact that he violated your trust. That’s unforgivable. But at least your daughter is biologically connected to someone you know, someone who’s already in both of your lives. That’s more than what most people can say about the children they raise with sperm donors. Think about it, Hamisa. If you’d used a stranger’s sperm, you wouldn’t even have this connection. You wouldn’t know who she was biologically. At least with Joshua, there’s a relationship. There’s a history there.”

Hamisa felt a flicker of something inside her. A thought, a question, something she hadn’t considered before. She had been so focused on the betrayal, the shock of finding out that Joshua had played a part in her daughter’s conception, that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the other side of the equation.

“Are you saying... this is a good thing?” Hamisa asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to believe it. Could this truly be a blessing? Could Joshua’s actions, however wrong they were, have somehow led to a situation that was, in some twisted way, better than what she had feared?

Pamela smiled softly, though her eyes were filled with understanding. “I’m not saying it’s ideal. It’s not perfect, and I’m not saying you should forgive Joshua just because of it. But you don’t have to face the rest of your life wondering who Jhream’s real father is. You already know him. You already know that Joshua loves you and he’s growing attached to Jhream—he might have messed up, but he loves you, and you know who he is. That’s something.”

Hamisa felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her—relief, confusion, anger, and even a hint of understanding. She had been so consumed with anger at Joshua, so focused on the betrayal, that she hadn’t given herself the space to see the potential good in the situation. It didn’t excuse his actions, it didn’t make it right, but... maybe it wasn’t all as bleak as it seemed.

“I just... I don’t know if I can ever forgive him,” Hamisa admitted, her voice small as she wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “What he did feels like something I can never get past.”

Pamela reached across the table, placing a hand on her friend’s. “You don’t have to forgive him right now, or ever, if you don’t want to. That’s your choice. But don’t let the pain blind you to the good things in your life. You’ve got a beautiful daughter who loves you, and now you know that her father, whether he made a mistake or not, loves you and her too. That’s something worth holding on to, even if everything else feels broken.”

Hamisa’s heart ached as she absorbed Pamela’s words. There was so much hurt and so much confusion, but Pamela was right. There was a part of her that didn’t want to give up on the good things that still existed in her life, even in the face of everything that had happened.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Pam,” Hamisa whispered. “But I think you’re right. Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.”

Pamela smiled, giving her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, Hamisa. You always do. But remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you. Always.”

Hamisa nodded, grateful for Pamela’s unwavering support. As the two women sat together, Hamisa felt the first inkling of hope flicker in her chest. The road ahead was still uncertain, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all downhill.

Maybe there was a way through this, one step at a time, with the love of her daughter, the support of her family and friends, and the possibility of healing, however slow it might be.

Joshua sat at the kitchen table, the phone still pressed to his ear as the words he had just spoken hung in the air. The silence that followed was deafening, each second dragging on longer than the last. It was as though everything in his world had suddenly gone still, frozen by the weight of what he had just confessed.

He had just told his family about what had happened with Hamisa. It felt surreal even as the words left his mouth, and now, as he waited for their response, the gravity of the situation seemed to deepen.

His father, Solofa, was the first to break the silence. “Joshua,” Solofa said slowly, his voice thick with disbelief, “what were you thinking? How could you do something like that?”

Joshua swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. His father’s voice, usually so reassuring, now felt distant and cold.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, Pops,” he replied, his words stumbling out. “I was drunk. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. I didn’t realize the consequences until it was too late.”

His father sighed deeply. “You’ve got to take responsibility for this. This is not just some minor mistake, Joshua. This is a life-altering decision.”

Joshua closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew his father was right, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt weighing on him, pulling him under.

“I know, Dad. I know. I just… I didn’t know what to do when I realized what had happened. I didn’t want to hurt Hamisa. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but now everything’s ruined.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and when his father spoke again, it was clear that the disappointment was real.

“We’ll talk more about this when you come over,” his father said, his voice stiff. “But for now, you need to think long and hard about your actions.”

Before Joshua could respond, his mother, Talisua, who had been quietly listening in the background, spoke up. Her voice was soft, almost maternal, but there was an underlying concern that Joshua couldn’t ignore.

“Joshua, this isn’t just about you and Hamisa,” Talisua said gently. “It’s about your daughter now. You’ve got to think about her future. What are you going to do for her? What kind of father are you going to be?”

Joshua felt his heart constrict at the mention of his daughter. He had already betrayed Hamisa’s trust, but now, realizing the enormity of his actions, he understood the full weight of what he had done. His daughter was the one who would be affected the most. What kind of example had he set for her? What kind of family was he building for her?

“I’ll figure it out, Mom,” he said quietly. “I just need to make things right.”

The call ended shortly after, leaving Joshua alone in the kitchen, the weight of his family’s disappointment hanging in the air. But it wasn’t just his parents who needed to know. His twin brother, Jonathan, who had always been his closest confidant, was the one Joshua needed to speak to next.

Jonathan, who had always been there for him in both good times and bad, arrived at Joshua’s house an hour later. Joshua had already anticipated the storm that was about to hit, but he couldn’t avoid it. Jonathan was family, and Jonathan would want to hear the truth from him.

When Jonathan entered the house, his eyes immediately fell on his twin brother, sitting at the kitchen table, his face drawn with exhaustion. Jonathan didn’t waste any time.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” he said, his tone sharp, but there was concern there too, buried beneath the surface.

Joshua didn’t try to sugarcoat things. He told Jonathan everything, about the night he had visited Hamisa while drunk, about the sample cup, and about the impulsive decision that had changed everything. He told him about the guilt he had carried ever since, the revelation that Jhream was his biological daughter and the complicated mess that had ensued after.

Jonathan didn’t say a word at first, his face unreadable as he processed the information. Joshua waited for him to speak, feeling the tension build in the air.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jonathan finally muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “This can’t be real.”

Joshua’s stomach twisted as he met his brother’s gaze. “It’s real, Jonathan. I’m not joking. It’s my fault, and I don’t know what to do. I just… I just wanted things to be right again.”

Jonathan paced back and forth across the room, his mind working through everything Joshua had said. His footsteps were heavy, his frustration evident in the way he moved. Joshua could practically feel the anger radiating from him, but he also knew his brother was hurt, confused, and unsure of how to process the situation.

“You’re telling me you swapped the sperm?” Jonathan asked, his voice sharp. “You thought it was a good idea at the time? You didn’t think about the consequences?”

Joshua’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his brother’s words hitting him hard. “I didn’t think. I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a stupid mistake. But now that I know what’s happened, I can’t undo it. And Hamisa… she’s angry. She’s hurt, and I don’t blame her.”

Jonathan’s face hardened, his expression turning into something unreadable. “You’ve completely messed things up, man. You can’t just throw yourself back into Hamisa’s life like nothing happened. You broke up with her because you didn't want a serious relationship. You broke her heart. You pushed her to do this and now she has to raise your child. The one you didn't want to give her. That's not fair, Josh. You are wrong as hell for this.”

Joshua felt the sting of his brother’s words, but he knew Jonathan was right. He had been so caught up in his guilt and confusion that he hadn’t stopped to think about the reality of the situation. He couldn’t just expect things to magically go back to normal.

“I know. I know, Jonathan,” Joshua said quietly. “But I love her. I never stopped loving her. And now… now I’m a father to Jhream. I just don’t know how to make everything right.”

Jonathan stopped pacing and turned to face him, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “I get that you’re trying to make things right. But you’ve got to think about this more carefully. This isn’t just about you, it’s about Hamisa, it’s about Jhream. You don’t get to waltz in and think everything will fall into place because you’re the father of her child. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Joshua sighed deeply, the weight of his brother’s words settling heavily in his chest. “I know,” he whispered. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Jonathan’s expression softened slightly as he met his brother’s gaze. “I’m not saying you can’t fix it, Josh. But you’ve got to be prepared for how much this is going to hurt. Not just Hamisa, but everyone involved. This is a mess.”

Joshua nodded, knowing his brother was right. There was no quick fix for what had happened. No easy way out of the tangled web he had woven. But one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to give up. He owed it to Hamisa, to Jhream, and to himself to try. To make things right, even if it meant facing the hardest battle of his life.

The room fell silent again, and for a long moment, neither twin spoke. Finally, Jonathan broke the stillness.

“I’ll be here for you, man. But don’t expect me to stand by and watch you screw this up even further,” he said, his voice quieter now, more subdued.

Joshua looked at him, grateful for his brother’s support, even if it came with tough love. “I won’t screw it up again, I swear.”

With that, Jonathan turned and left, leaving Joshua alone in the kitchen, still processing the weight of the secrets that had just come to light. There was a long road ahead, one filled with apologies, explanations, and a lot of work. But Joshua knew that if he was going to fix this, he had to face the consequences head-on.

No more running.

hamisawoo 12h

Hamisa sat nervously on the edge of her parents's bed, her palms pressed against her lap as she felt her heart beat steadily but rapidly within her chest. The room felt smaller than it had in years as if the walls were closing in around her. Her parents's bedroom was familiar, filled with the soft scents of their shared life, the musk of her father's cologne lingering in the air, the faint trace of lavender from her mother's favorite candles. The once comforting space now seemed to hold the weight of all the unspoken truths and unsaid words that hung between them.

She had come here seeking comfort, guidance, and perhaps some reassurance, but now, at this moment, Hamisa felt the delicate thread of her resolve beginning to fray. She had spent time wrestling with the truth about her daughter, Jhream, and now that it had finally slipped from her lips, she could scarcely believe it was real. Joshua, the man she had once dreamed of building a life with—was Jhream's father. It was a truth she hadn't expected to face again, but it was here now, sitting in the air between them like an uninvited guest.

Her parents, however, did not react the way she had expected. There was no outburst, no dramatic exchange of words or reproach. No angry confrontations. Instead, her father, Atonio, continued flipping through the pages of his morning newspaper, his gaze flicking over the words absentmindedly as if they were discussing the weather. Her mother, Daiane, sat beside her, her posture composed, her face serene and thoughtful, as though this revelation had already been anticipated.

"We knew," her father said after a moment, his voice low and matter-of-fact as if the answer had always been evident. He finally set the paper down, glancing at her briefly before his eyes flickered away, back to the familiar black and white print.

"You knew?" Hamisa asked, the words coming out almost in disbelief. "How?"

Daiane's gentle voice answered her before her father could. "We had a feeling. The moment Jhream was born, something about her... her eyes, her smile, it reminded us of Joshua. But we didn’t want to interfere, not after everything you’d been through. You were so set on using a sperm donor, and we didn't want you to think we were trying to control your choices, especially after we told you so many times that we didn’t agree with it." She sighed softly, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the room. "We just wanted you to be happy."

Hamisa stared at her parents in shock, a deep pang of hurt and confusion clawing at her chest. "You could have told me. You could have warned me."

Atonio gave a small shrug, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the paper. "Yeah, like you would have believed us," he said, his voice tinged with a faint trace of humor, though there was a quiet sadness underneath. "You were so determined to do things your way. We didn't think you'd listen, not then."

Daiane nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. "We knew you had your reasons. We wanted you to make your own decisions, even if we didn’t agree with them. It was your life, Hamisa."

The words hit her harder than she had anticipated. They had known. They had seen what she hadn’t been able to see, but they had chosen to let her walk this difficult path on her own. It wasn’t that they had been unsupportive, they had just been quiet observers, trusting that she would find her way. And maybe, in their eyes, she had. But now, with the truth revealed, it felt like a long, complicated road had just stretched before her, one she hadn’t prepared herself for.

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of it all. "So, what do I do now?" she asked, her voice small, unsure. "Should I let him be in her life? I mean, I’m so angry with him, but... if he’s her father, I don’t have to raise her alone anymore."

Daiane exchanged a long glance with Atonio, a wordless conversation passing between them. For a moment, Hamisa almost felt like an outsider watching two people communicate in a language only they could understand. It was strange, but comforting at the same time.

"Do what’s best for Jhream," her mother finally said, her voice soft yet resolute. "This isn’t about you or Joshua. It’s about what’s best for her."

Hamisa's chest tightened as she absorbed the weight of her mother’s words. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that kind of responsibility to make a decision that would shape not only her life but also her daughter’s future. How could she possibly know what was best for Jhream when she couldn’t even figure out what was best for herself?

Atonio didn’t offer further advice but sat back, folding his arms, his gaze heavy but patient. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was just that Hamisa had grown up in a home where choices were hers to make, even if those choices were difficult and filled with uncertainties. His calmness was a reflection of the trust he had in her, something that made Hamisa feel even more alone in that moment. But she knew, deep down, that he was right. It was her decision, and it was about her daughter now.

She sighed a deep, exhausted sound that seemed to echo throughout the room. She had wanted so much for her life, for her daughter’s life. Growing up in a family where love had seemed so steadfast, so unshakable, had made Hamisa believe that she, too, would find that perfect kind of love. It wasn’t that she expected perfection, no one could have that but she had thought she would have a partner. Someone who would walk beside her, helping her navigate the challenges that life threw at them. Someone who would be there for their daughter.

But that wasn’t Joshua. Not anymore.

Hamisa closed her eyes for a brief moment, the memory of her parents’ love flashing before her. Forty-two years together. Forty-two years of companionship, loyalty, and a love that had withstood the test of time. Her mother, Daiane, had been Rainha da Bateria at Carnaval do Brasil the year she met her father, Atonio, he was a professional footballer for Brazil at the time. It had been a whirlwind romance, five days together, and they had known. From that moment on, they had been inseparable. Their love was a story that Hamisa had always admired, a love that seemed to defy the odds.

Atonio had supported Daiane through everything, even as her fame grew, as she became a household name in Brazil. And Daiane had supported Atonio through his career, their bond only strengthening when they decided to move to Miami, Florida, where they would raise their seven children. The way her parents had made it look so effortless, so simple, made Hamisa believe that one day she would have the same.

But now, sitting on the edge of their bed, she realized that love wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always as magical as it had seemed from the outside. Sometimes, love was messy. Sometimes, it meant walking away. Sometimes, it meant dealing with the consequences of decisions that had been made without fully understanding their weight.

She thought of Joshua, of how everything had seemed perfect at the start. They had shared a dream, a vision of what their future together would look like. He had been everything she had ever wanted, a kind, attentive partner who made her feel cherished. But when the reality of their differing desires came to light, his unwillingness to settle down, his refusal to commit to marriage and children, shattered the dream she had built around him.

Joshua had been married before, and he had two sons from that marriage. His previous life had shaped his reluctance to settle into another serious commitment. He wanted an easygoing relationship, one without the pressures of marriage or the responsibilities of raising a child. When Hamisa’s vision for their future clashed with his, they broke up. It had been painful, and Hamisa had spent months healing, telling herself that she would move on.

But now, sitting in front of her parents, Hamisa realized that the reality she had created, the life she had chosen for herself was no longer something she could ignore. Her daughter’s future was now tied to Joshua in a way she hadn’t anticipated. And it left her with a choice: to let him into Jhream’s life, to allow him to be the father, or to keep him at arm’s length, leaving her to continue this journey on her own.

Hamisa sighed again, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. There was no easy answer, no quick solution. And yet, as her parents sat quietly beside her, watching with patience and understanding, Hamisa felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers, but she was learning to trust herself, just as her parents had trusted her all along.

Meanwhile, Joshua sat in the dimly lit living room of his cousin Joe’s house, the atmosphere heavy with tension. The conversation that had brought him here, to this moment, was one he’d never thought he’d be having. His mind replayed the events over and over, but every time he tried to make sense of it, he only felt more lost. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and the faces of his relatives stared at him, awaiting answers. His internal turmoil was mirrored in the eyes of those around him, as they tried to understand how he had ended up here.

Joe sat across from him, his brow furrowed in concern, while Zilla leaned back on the sofa with his arms crossed, his eyes sharp, observing the scene like a hawk. Almia, Sefa's wife, stood by the kitchen counter, shaking her head in disbelief. Her shock was evident, her body language rigid with the weight of the revelation Joshua had just shared.

Galina, Joe’s wife, stood in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her, her expression one of incredulity. "You’re telling me," she began, her voice tinged with disbelief, "that you—Joshua, of all people—were upset when you found out Hamisa planned to use a sperm donor?" She shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing. "You didn’t want her to do it. You tried to talk her out of it, but instead of respecting her decision, you decided to play a ridiculous game. And now... now you’re telling us that the child she had—might be yours?"

Joshua winced. His cousin’s words stung, but they were not without merit. He had been upset, angry even, when he found out that Hamisa had decided to go through with the sperm donor procedure. The truth was, he had spent so many sleepless nights trying to convince her not to. But she had made her choice. And now, looking at the reality of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt, a pang of regret. His life was spiraling, and this mess was one he had created.

"Yeah," Joshua muttered, his voice low, "I tried. I did everything I could to talk her out of it. But Hamisa had already made up her mind." His hands rested in his lap, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on his jeans. "I was drunk that night. I showed up at her place hoping to tell her how I still felt, hoping we could try again. But... she wasn’t there."

Joe sat forward, his expression serious. "So, you just let yourself in?" He shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. "You were out of your mind, Joshua."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, his eyes momentarily distant. "I wasn’t thinking clearly. I thought... maybe if I could just tell her how I felt, things would be different. But when I went in to use the bathroom, I saw the cup. The sperm sample." He paused, biting his lip as he recollected the details of that night, his fingers curling into tight fists. "I was drunk. Stupid. I didn’t know what I was doing. I started messing around with it, and... well, I spilled it. I panicked, thinking that if I didn’t replace it, she’d find out and she’d never forgive me. So I did the dumbest thing possible." He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his own words as he confessed, "I replaced it with my own."

Zilla let out a low whistle from across the room, his face a mixture of disbelief and judgment. "Are you serious? You—" he began, but her words trailed off as he shook his head, incredulous. "You did that? Joshua, that’s insane. That’s not just an accident. You consciously made that choice."

"I didn’t remember any of it the next day," Joshua said, his voice strained. "I woke up hungover, confused, with no recollection of what had happened the night before. It wasn’t until I saw Jhream for the first time that I realized... something was off. She looked so much like me. I couldn’t ignore it. It was like looking in a mirror."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Joshua had said. His cousins exchanged glances and seemed at a loss for words. His mind raced as he tried to piece together the events. The insemination had been successful. Hamisa had gotten pregnant. And now, fifteen months later, he was faced with the reality of his actions.

Trinity, still standing by the counter, shook her head in disbelief. "Joshua, do you realize what you’ve done? You’re talking about a child, a person’s life! You didn’t just mess up your relationship with Hamisa, you messed with her future, with Jhream’s future." She turned toward her husband, Jonathan, who had been listening in silence. "When Jonathan told me what had happened, I thought he was joking, but now I can’t even—" She stopped herself, her eyes wide, trying to grasp the full scope of her brother-in-law’s actions.

Joshua let out a breath, the weight of her words landing on him. "I know. I know it was a mistake, but I thought... I thought I was just making things right. I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think it would go this far."

His ex-wife who had been quiet until now, raised an eyebrow. "You thought you were making things right? By tampering with her fertility? That’s not ‘making things right.’ That’s manipulation, plain and simple." She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. "And now you’re telling me that you didn’t even think about telling Hamisa until she found out on her own?"

Joshua’s stomach twisted with guilt. "I... I didn’t know how to tell her. I thought she’d hate me, and maybe she would have. But I didn’t think it would come to this. I didn’t think it would be so complicated."

"Let me ask you something," Trinity said, her voice cool but sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. "If she had never figured out that there was a chance you were the father, would you have ever told her the truth?"

Joshua flinched at the question, his gaze dropping to the floor. He didn’t answer immediately. Would he have told her the truth? The answer wasn’t clear, even to him. It was a question he had been avoiding, a question that gnawed at him every time he thought about it. The guilt pressed in on him from all sides. "I... I don’t know," he muttered.

Trinity’s expression hardened. "You don’t know?" she repeated, her voice tight with frustration. "You’ve spent all this time thinking about yourself, about what you wanted, about what you didn’t want and now you’re telling me you don’t know if you’d ever have told her the truth? That’s not just selfish, Joshua. It’s cowardly."

His ex-wife chimed in, her voice more measured but no less sharp. "I still think you should take the damn DNA test, just like Hamisa wants you to do. It’s the right thing to do. You owe it to her, and you owe it to yourself, to know for sure."

Joshua’s stomach churned again, and he felt a knot in his throat. "I know it’s my child," he said firmly, though there was a slight quiver in his voice. "I don’t need a DNA test to tell me that."

"Just do it," Joe said from his seat across the room, his voice calm but insistent. "You don’t get to dictate what happens next without knowing the facts. You owe it to her, you owe it to yourself, and you owe it to that child."

Joshua sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as the weight of their words settled on him. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that he had made a colossal mistake, that the consequences of his actions were more than he had bargained for. But deep down, he knew they were right. He had to face the truth, even if it meant confronting the mess he had created. He had to make things right, even if it meant admitting just how far he had gone to avoid responsibility.

"Fine," he said, his voice low, a resignation in his tone. "I’ll do it."

The room remained still, the silence heavy with the weight of the decision. Joshua wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified. But at that moment, he knew one thing for certain: whatever happened next, he had to face it, head-on.

Joshua had never been one to doubt himself, but as he stood outside the DNA Diagnostics Center (DDC), a quiet unease settled in his chest. His palms were slightly damp as he paced the parking lot, eyes flicking toward the entrance every few seconds. He had no reason to doubt that Jhream was his daughter.

In his heart, in that unexplainable space between a man’s soul and the child he’s bound to, he knew. From the first moment he laid eyes on her, his heart had screamed that she was his, that their bond ran deeper than blood.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem lay in the questions that surrounded him, in the things Hamisa needed to feel secure in. His own family needed confirmation too, and even though it pained him to have to jump through these hoops, he couldn’t deny that this test, this formality, was necessary to give everyone peace of mind. He couldn’t just walk away from it, not when it meant everything to Hamisa and his own family.

Still, pacing the lot didn’t make the minutes move faster. The appointment was in five minutes, yet there was no sign of Hamisa or the baby. Joshua glanced at his watch for the third time in the last minute, a sigh escaping his lips. He had promised Hamisa he’d be there, but the tension between them had made the promise harder to keep than he would have liked to admit.

Just when he thought he might go mad with worry, the sleek rumble of an engine interrupted his thoughts. The unmistakable sound of a Mercedes-Benz G63 AMG approached, pulling in next to Joshua’s parked Cadillac Escalade.

Hamisa’s face appeared in the window, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

“Why are you pacing the parking lot?” she asked, an eyebrow raised as she examined him.

Joshua let out another sigh, his frustration finally breaking through. “I thought you weren’t going to show up or something,” he replied, his voice tinged with both relief and annoyance.

“Why would I not show up?” Hamisa answered with a roll of her eyes, her voice sharp with a hint of sarcasm. “I need this done more than you do.”

Joshua gave her a dry look, not knowing whether to laugh or groan. Instead, he simply opened the back door of the car and carefully lifted little Jhream from her car seat. The baby’s large, dark brown eyes locked onto his, and she let out a string of happy babbles. As Joshua carried her, her small arms reached out, instinctively wrapping around his neck. It was moments like this that made Joshua’s resolve solidify. It didn’t matter what the test said. He was her father. His soul already knew.

Hamisa followed behind, adjusting the weight of the baby bag slung over her shoulder, and after locking her car, they made their way into the center. Joshua held the door open for Hamisa, something that still felt right even though their relationship had become so complicated. Inside, the sterile atmosphere of the DNA Diagnostics Center felt like a world apart from the warmth of the life they had started together, a world he was no longer sure how to navigate.

At the reception desk, they checked in for their appointment. Joshua felt the uncomfortable weight of waiting press down on him as they took their seats in the sterile waiting area. The silence between him and Hamisa was thick, a layer of unresolved tension hanging between them. It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt comfortable or familiar; it was the kind that spoke volumes of the complicated history they shared.

“What do you want the outcome to be?” Joshua asked, breaking the quiet. The question wasn’t meant to be confrontational, but it felt heavy all the same. He was genuinely curious, though he already had a suspicion about the answer.

Hamisa’s expression shifted, her eyes darkening as she looked at him. “I would like it to be that you’re not the father,” she replied, her voice a little quieter than usual. “But we both know she’s yours.”

Joshua nodded solemnly. That answer was expected. He understood it, even though it stung. He had broken up with Hamisa because he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. But that hadn’t stopped him from turning her life upside down when he did what he did.

And now, here they were. She had every right to want to push him away, to hope that the DNA test would give her the space to breathe again, to co-parent without the complications of a past that was far from easy.

Before Joshua could say anything further, their names were called.

Little Jhream squirmed in Joshua’s arms as the technician, a woman dressed in a white lab coat, beckoned them toward the back. Joshua’s heart tightened at the sight of the woman in the lab coat. He didn’t want her to take his daughter away, to treat her like just another test subject. He was already feeling the weight of this sterile process, and he was fighting to stay grounded, to remember that this was just a formality. He was her father. This would only confirm what he already knew.

As they approached, Jhream’s little face contorted with uncertainty. Her tiny hands gripped Joshua’s shirt tighter, and she looked up at him with wide eyes filled with unease. She didn’t like strangers, didn’t like the unfamiliar. As if sensing her fear, Joshua pulled her closer, murmuring gentle words of comfort. But when the technician leaned forward to speak to her, the baby’s lip quivered, and she buried her face into Joshua’s chest.

“Dada,” Jhream murmured, her voice small but clear, as if she needed to reaffirm to herself, and to Joshua, who she trusted.

Hamisa and Joshua both froze at the sound. For a moment, there was no noise except for the soft rhythm of their breathing. The word hung in the air, suspended between them like a secret that only the two of them understood. Hamisa’s heart gave a little lurch, and Joshua felt something warm rush through him. His eyes met Hamisa’s, a mixture of surprise and tenderness passing between them.

Joshua didn’t need the test to know. He already knew.

But the tension in the air wasn’t gone yet. Hamisa’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and Joshua could sense that she was thinking, weighing the moments before them. With a deep breath, she gave him a gentle push, urging him toward the technician.

They reached one of the private areas, where the DNA analyst explained the procedure. It would take up to three to five business days for the results to come back, but sometimes they were able to provide results sooner. As Hamisa filled out the paperwork, Joshua stood by, the weight of his daughter’s small form in his arms. He could feel her warmth, her trusting little body relaxing against his chest.

The technician took the samples. Simple cheek swabs, a process Joshua had gone through himself in the past, but never under these circumstances. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to experience his daughter’s resistance to the unknown, but it was part of the process. She squirmed, not understanding what was happening, but Joshua whispered soothing words to her, holding her close, letting her know she was safe. As the technician finished, Jhream calmed down a little, her face still scrunched with confusion, but she was settling.

“Dada,” Jhream said again, her voice clear as she pulled herself up, trying to stand on his lap.

Joshua’s heart melted. He held her up carefully, her tiny hands gripping his fingers as she tried to balance. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the entire room faded away. His bond with her was already formed. It was unbreakable. He was her father.

Hamisa stood by, watching them. She couldn’t deny it, either. She had to admit that no matter the outcome of the test, this little girl needed both of them. And as much as she had tried to push Joshua away, to protect herself, she knew deep down that the bond between him and Jhream was real. It was something that couldn’t be ignored.

When the results came, Hamisa would know what she had to do. She would find a way to accept Joshua back into her life for Jhream’s sake, and maybe they could figure out how to raise their daughter together, even if it wasn’t the picture-perfect family she had once imagined.

Next

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Death and the Fool

Chapter 1: The Tower--Reversed

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first

content: childbirth, takes place at the beginning of episode 9

A/N: Hi! I received a request for a oneshot by @hannah-0730 and decided to turn it into a whole fanfic so lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Spotify playlist for this book can be found here Ao3 link here

“The Tower–Reversed: Internal chaos, avoidance of change, delaying disaster.”

April, 1750

April has always been your favorite month–even when it wasn’t called ‘April’. Hibernations are ending and new life is being born. Bulbs of daffodils are breaking through the warmed soil. New souls are being introduced after remaining at your fingertips. 

This day was no different. The first birth of the day was a baby girl in the New Hampshire colony. Born at twelve–ten in the morning, she had a full head of dark hair and when she opened her eyes they were the darkest shade of blue. 

“Welcome to the world,” you’d whispered, wishing her luck on her journey with a kiss on her head before moving on to the next soul.

You have a special place for every soul. Each one is unique in their own way: each one has their own path, their own personality as they age, but your favorite type of soul will always be the new souls. 

With so much potential, there’s an endless amount of possibilities. You’re able to help guide them to their first life, able to see how they flourish and succeed. And then, you welcome them back to the Soul Plane with open arms.

Each soul is molded by the other souls around it. Every one of them is connected by a string, and you find it extraordinary and utterly beautiful. You have watched every single soul grow. You’ve watched them from the birth of their light, expertly crafted by your skilled hands, all the way to their final life centuries later. 

You’ve never played favorites, but these two were an exception.

You panted heavily as you ran beside her, cloak flowing behind you and your hood falling away from your head. “Agatha, we need to stop!”

As if on cue, she gripped your arm and doubled over in pain. You held her up, wrapping your arm around her back and guiding her off the path. “Come down here, to the river.”

Her breaths were heavy and labored as you removed your blue cloak and laid it out on the pine needle strewn forest floor. Agatha removed her own quickly and tossed it aside, leaning against the tree.

You knelt on the grown, taking the knife strapped to you from its harness and cut off a decent sized piece of your cloak. You quickly moved down to the riverbed and soaked it in the cool spring water before making your way back to Agatha.

She was drenched in sweat when you pressed the cloth to her forehead and neck. You let her grip your hand as you continued dabbing the sweat off her, “It’s okay…It’ll be okay…”

But, in truth, you didn’t know if it would be. Death–Rio–she had never been interested in the making of souls. In her words, it was too complicated and she’d rather stick to her “job description”. 

When it came to this soul however, she was insistent on helping.

“It’s my child,” she tried to reason. “I think I have the right to at least help with the creation of their soul!”

You weren’t stupid. You knew how it would end, whether or not she helped make the new soul.

The grip Agatha had on your hand tightened even more as she cried out in pain. “Something isn’t right,” she managed to get out. “Something–Oh, God!”

You looked up from her and ten yards away was a figure. She stood there, quietly observing you both in her green cloak.

“Rio,” you mutter.

Agatha turned her head toward Rio as she cried out again. “No! No! I told you not to come!”

Rio began walking towards you. Mud stained her cloak as it trailed behind her, and though her presence felt threatening, you could see it in her face that this was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Rio stopped a good distance away, “I had to…”

Agatha’s nostrils flared in frustration and her jaw tensed, “If you do this, I will hate you forever!”

But that didn’t seem to shake Rio outwardly. Instead, she offered a subtle nod, almost saying, ‘I can live with that’.

“Please let him live!” Agatha sobbed. “Please, my love!”

Rio looked at you with regret in her eyes and you sighed, “Rio, just this once, please! At least offer time.” 

Rio closed her eyes as Agatha once again groaned in pain. She had a decision to make and it needed to be made quickly. She let out a sigh and opened her eyes. “Okay,” she said softly, “but it is inevitable.”

When Agatha’s eyes opened again Rio was gone and she sighed, her thoughts muddled as she tried to speak, “She…what…”

“She’s given you time, Aggie,” you whispered. “Your son will live.”

A relieved sigh was let out and it turned into a broken moan as another contraction washed over her. You quickly pulled the hem of her chemise up and over her thighs, reaching to the side to grab her own cloak and place it in front of you. 

“Okay, Agatha,” you huffed. “I need you to give one big push.” You reached your hand up and she took it, squeezing it hard as she screamed. “Good,” you said. “Just one more to get the shoulders out. Squeeze my hand.”

The shrill sound of a baby’s cry echoed through the woods as you grasped the child with the cloak in front of you. 

“Welcome to the world,” you smiled.

You had never seen Agatha cry, but the moment her son was placed on her chest her walls broke. As she held him close, you picked up the wet rag again and brought it to his skin. You cleaned off what you could before cutting off more squares of your cloak. 

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, standing up and making your way back down to the river. 

You went back with cloths dripping water and sat down in front of Agatha, beginning to clean her son off.

“I think,” she sighed, “I think I’ll call him Nicholas.”

You smiled softly and continued washing him off, “Maybe you could call him Niki for short.”

“I like that,” she mumbled, smiling down at him. “Niki.”

When Niki was finally clean, you managed to swaddle him loosely in Agatha’s cloak. You settled beside them closely and since meeting her, you had never seen her so happy.

“How much time did she give him?” Agatha’s voice was meek and her smile had dropped when she turned her head to look at you. 

You took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, but I won’t know until it happens.”

Her voice was strained, “Okay.”

After a trip to the river to help Agatha clean up, the two of you sat peacefully against the tree for at least an hour. It was quiet, the sound of birds and the rustle of leaves lulling both Agatha and Niki into a light doze. You didn’t want to wake them, and you certainly didn’t want to leave them, but you knew you had to.

You placed your hand on Agatha’s shoulder. “Aggie,” you whispered, pulling back when she startled awake. “Come on, we have to go.”

You managed to create a sling out of your cloak, allowing Agatha to hold Niki close to her while holding onto you for support. 

The sun was setting as you walked a path through the woods. With the direction you were walking, it was directly to Agatha’s left and the sight nearly made you weak. Her silhouette was illuminated in golden light as she walked and it made her look as if she were glowing–she was completely and unequivocally beautiful.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

You grinned, “Well, sometimes, the Soul Plane gets a bit boring, so Rio and I made ourselves a little cottage. There’s a garden there so I’ll grow you some fruits and vegetables, and a stream runs right by it so you’ll have water.” 

“Sounds like paradise,” Agatha chuckled.

The sun was almost entirely set and the air had grown chilly by the time you reached the cottage. When you entered, you immediately lit a fire in the hearth, smiling to yourself as you heard Agatha groan while sitting down.

“There are two rooms,” you said, “Mine is on the left, so you’re free to take clean clothing if you’d like.”

After gathering fruits and vegetables from the garden and replenishing it afterwards, you made your way back to the warmth of the cottage. In front of the fire, Agatha sat in a chair, holding Niki close to her chest as she fed him. Her dirty chemise from earlier was replaced by a shawl and one of your own chemises, pristine and white as if it had never been worn before.

“I picked some apples from the tree,” you said, setting a basket down on a wooden table. “And some potatoes, carrots, peaches, strawberries, and peas. I grew some more of everything, so you should have a few months worth of food.”

Agatha smiled softly, her eyes giving way to her exhaustion. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome…” There was a beat of silence before you continued speaking. “If you’d like me to, I can stay the night, but–”

“Will you?” Agatha asked. 

You tensed up, not actually expecting her to ask. She was always alone, liking to be by herself–a covenless witch, she called herself. “Oh…yes. Of course.” At the sight of her smile, you relaxed. “Well, I hate these dresses, so I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

With your own underclothes on a shawl to add an extra layer, you fixed a fire in both of the bedrooms  and rejoined Agatha with a book in your hand. “The bedrooms are ready and…I think Rio suspected we’d come here because there’s a cradle in her room…”

Agatha looked at you with a mix of emotions in her eyes, “There is?”

You nodded. “You and Niki are more than welcome to sleep in there, Aggie.”

The night was quiet after Agatha went to bed early, politely declining your offer of dinner. You stayed in front of the hearth reading until the clock showed it was half past ten and you put the embers of the fire out. 

Before you could make it to your own room, lit candle in hand, crying pierces the air. You walked across the room to Rio’s room and just before you’re able to knock, Niki’s shrieks stopped. The door is cracked and through the cool air and the crackling of the fire in her room, you can make out the sound of humming. And then, the sound of singing.

You felt warm, to see this side of her that no one else has seen–not even Rio since she had left earlier in the day. This was a woman whose tongue could cut sharper than a knife, whose wit was beyond measure, and who had never dropped her stone-cold mask for anyone.

And she was singing.

Agatha Harkness was singing a lullaby.

You leave her be and walk back to your room, unable to shake the picture of Agatha. Once settled into bed, you find that sleep doesn’t come easily. Your mind lingers on Agatha and no matter what you do, nothing helps. You toss and turn, but still, you think about Agatha and her perfect lips and her perfect eyes and her dark hair and the lullaby and how maybe, just maybe, one day she’d feel the same way about you. 

Perhaps you would no longer be the Fool in the deck. Perhaps you would be the Ten of Cups. But for now, you would remain the Fool, naive and hopeful, chasing after your Sun and preparing for the grief that would inevitably turn her into the Three of Swords.

[multifictional]

A court of Burning Seasons || Part 2

— > eris vanserra × archeron!reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron

• Part 2: at the human festival Elain is enjoying her time with Lucien while dealing with her dwelling emotions. In the meanwhile, y/n finds refuge in her loneliness but someone unexpected interrupts her.

• Summary: Y/n Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light. Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, y/n remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing she can't quite place. A mating bond with Eris Vanserra is the last thing she expects and also what she seemed to need. But nothing is ever easy as it seems in Prythian, especially not with Beron impeding presence and courts rivalries always finding a way of creating complications.

• Warnings: an Elucien moment with building tension. Eris appearance is enough of a warning I suppose.

• Word count: 4943

[part 1]

The human lands weren’t as you remembered. It didn’t come as a surprise; after all, you hadn't been there during the war with the King of Hybern. Things had undoubtedly changed, like you always suspected. Years passed, and time always altered things, leaving a permanent mark behind, no matter what.

Staying a few steps behind, you followed the others into the village filled with the familiar sounds and smells that now seemed far too different. Feyre and Rhysand, as expected, led the group, their heads held high, looking like they owned the entire world, untouchable. You rolled your eyes at the sight. Sometimes, you missed the old Feyre, the version that wasn't so blinded by power.

Your gaze softened as it landed on your sister and Lucien, walking side by side, sharing a comfortable silence with their hands tucked together and fingers entwined. Their connection was undeniable, although hesitancy still loomed over them at every step.

You didn’t mind being the one left out, trailing a little behind. Loneliness never bothered you. If anything, the feeling of not being pampered was something you always welcomed with quiet pleasure. And today it felt a rare gift to breath, finally out from the Court of Dreams, even if you knew it wouldn't last more than a few hours.

Elain had been right. It was midst autumn in the human lands. The air smelled of decay and renewal, and as you walked silently, your heart began to thrum heavier than usual, in time with the rhythm of the fallen leaves you were scrounging below your feet.

Damn, how you had missed this sound.

You reached down to pick up a fallen leaf, inspecting it with quite reverence. It was deep brown, with veins of gold tracing the edges, still soft despite its dying state. It had fallen recently, not yet dry, but slowly wilting. Even in death, there was still life, and you always found comfort in that. To you, it symbolized the bittersweet balance between the endings and new beginnings.

Elain’s soft chuckle broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find her watching you with amusement. "Here you go," she teased softly. “I told you.”

“You like leaves?” Lucien asked, surprised.

Even after all this time, he still didn't fully understand you. Nobody did, not even yourself sometimes. You hesitated for just a moment, as much as you trusted your only friend, the question almost felt... personal.

But it was Elain who answered. She scoffed, but there wasn’t malice in her voice, just an affectionate knowing. “She always did. Ever since we were children. Always picking them up.”

Her openness in sharing this little detail you always kept so guarded made you stiffen slightly, a strange discomfort creeping in. But before you could retreat into yourself, Lucien's gentle smile reassured you. “Well, they are kind of magical.”

His voice grew suddenly quiet and his expression shifted into something nostalgic and thoughtful, his gaze clouding into something deeper than memories, taking him to another time, another place. As much as he hated his old court, it was still where he had learned how fragile life could really be, even for a Fae. The forest, with all its towering trees and fallen leaves, had always been his shelter, the only refuge untouched by his father cruelty.

Sensing the shift in the air, perhaps from the subtle tension in Lucien’s body or through the bond she was finally start to acknowledge, Elain squeezed his hand, the gesture grounding him back to the present. His smile returned, small but sincere, with the intention of brushing off the weight of his memories. Elain was too attentive to let go, but still, she didn’t press. If he was willing to give her time and space, then so would she.

"I can show you more than just trees here," Elain murmured, her voice a soft invitation while humans started to gather from their houses to approach the crowd and socialize. "We’re here for the festival, and I want to share it with you."

Lucien's heart thrummed at the idea. Even though the mansion that once belonged to the Archerons was destroyed by the war, they were still in the human lands. He thrived for the little moments he could get to simply stay with her, to learn more of how she saw her world, and of what it was really made of. Just the thought of sharing something new with Elain, something that would be theirs, filled his heart with a joy he never felt before.

Without realizing it, Lucien took a step closer to Elain and, to his surprise, she did the same. For a fleeting moment, the people around them faded away, leaving just the two of them, far away from the real world and on the edge of something deeper.

"Alright, alright, that's enough company for the night," you chimed in, unable to hold back a little chuckle, breaking their bubble. You could feel the tension hanging in the air and you couldn't help but tease. "I will leave you two alone."

You caught your sister's flustered reaction as you gave them an almost too exaggerated shrug before turning away without many ceremonies.

Elain's reaction wasn't lost on Lucien either. He had already promised he wouldn't press her, for any reason at all. So he made himself another promise: he wouldn't let his instincts, or even Elain's for that matter, to get the better of them before she was absolutely ready.

He almost kissed her. The thought sent a tightness through his chest. He had dreamed about how this very moment could happen many times. But he wouldn't let it happen like this. It was too soon. Too fast.

So Lucien found himself thankful for your timely interruption.

It was almost strange to think that, once, you had been among humans. And, more than that, that you had been one of them, living a life that should have been normal but wasn't. Years had passed, and everything changed. Your body, for instance. You were stronger now, a little taller, and sharper than before, in ways that weren't just physical. But you never cared about that. Not the way your sister did.

What would never change, though, was the feeling of not belonging. You still felt it, in every fiber of your body, as you stood in the village square, watching the humans dance beneath the lanterns and remembering how you used to share these same festivals. No matter where you were or how much the world around you changed, you always felt like an outsider looking in.

There was one thing that always felt right, someway. That made you feel less alone. And as the autumn wind brushed against your skin, cool and crisp, you remembered what it felt like. You stopped in the middle of the path and shrugged off your light jacket. Closing your eyes, you relaxed your shoulders, letting the welcoming sting of the wind and the scent of autumn settle something restless in you.

You had missed this feeling.

A familiar spicy scent made you hum appreciatively. It was a mix of spice and fire, deep and rich, but before you could savour it, reality hit you like a slap and your hands clenched at your sides. You perfectly remembered the day Feyre had returned to your family's mansion, asking for help. She had struggled to explain that mortal foods no longer satisfied her.

That's it, you swallowed down the bitterness you felt. I'm here, and I can't even eat the food. Now I belong even less. Amazing.

You exhaled sharply, but you barely had the time to finish the thought when someone brushed past you, his voice cutting through the din of the festival, just loud enough to be overheard.

"Sleeping on your feet in the middle of a party and blocking the path for everyone's enjoyment,” his words were dry of amusement, purposely mocking and laced with something sharper that seemed disdain. "Mortals never learned how to behave properly."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was to ignore him. Whoever he was, he couldn't possibly know that you had once been raised to act like a lady, or that you had been taking a moment to breathe the air that made you feel something, anything, before returning to the golden cage that was the Night Court.

Mortals. That's how he called you. And only a Fae could say something like that. So you found yourself calling him out, your tone calm but sharp enough to cut. Usually, you would have turned around and let people talk. After all, the Mother only knew how many times you had to do this with Feyre and her little Inner Circle.

But something, about his exact words, about him, made you react.

"I'm not a mortal, you asshat," you shot back, not bothering to raise your voice. If he was Fae, he would hear you just fine. "You should be able to recognize the difference instead of mumbling about manners."

You didn't wait for a response, you didn't even care if your words had reached him. You had already decided to walk away with the strange satisfaction of having spoken up after so much time and ready to disappear into the festival crowd.

But the Fae did hear you.

And, as you turned to walk away, a strange feeling made you glance over your shoulder at the exact same time he turned towards you. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Your eyes met.

A flicker of color. Auburn hair, sharp face and an assessing gaze that burned like embers. Something in you tugged, deep and sudden, like a whisper of wind you couldn't quite catch, completely out of reach. It disappeared almost right away and you turned away first, pushing it into the back of your mind before, the moment already long gone.

Behind you, the stranger remained still, standing in the middle of the crowd like you had been before, his body rigid and his vision sharpened as his breath caught in his throat. He felt it, stronger than anything he ever felt. Something snapped right in the middle of his chest. He recognized it exactly for what it was: a bond.

The mating bond.

He didn't call out for you, he could't. He couldn't do anything other than staring at the place where you had been and disappeared before his very eyes. And for the fist time after so many centuries, the stranger was completely, utterly frozen in shock.

Lucien and Elain wandered through the market of the festival, the scent of spiced pastries filling their nostrils as they passed the stands. He glanced between the crows and Elain, her silence louder than the chatter around them. After their almost kiss she had withdrawn into herself again. Not entirely, but enough for him to feel it. He knew they would have to talk about what happened sooner or later, but he wouldn't press her. Not yet, anyway.

“Do you think y/n will be fine alone?” Elain murmured, her fingers twitching over the edge of her dress.

Lucien exhaled quietly and shook his head, seeing right though it. An excuse. A distraction from had nearly happened, perhaps to ease the tension between them, without addressing it directly.

And he let her have it. “You know your sister better than that," he said, turning slightly towards her. "She can handle herself just fine. And perhaps being alone is exactly what she is after.” He approached her with an hesitant a step, lowering his voice just a fraction. “Let’s not talk about her right now, alright?”

Elain’s eyes flickered up to his, uncertain but searching for something. Then, she nodded. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. On one side, she did realize what would have happened if her sister didn't interrupt, and she felt relieved. On the other side, though, the excitement for the novelty of their relationship lingered inside her. She thrived to discover the depth of what it could really be, without blaming their bond and her trauma for it.

Without realizing it, her hand grazed his arm, a featherlight touch that sent something twist in Lucien's chest. He went still, forcing himself to breathe and to not lean into it too much, although his instincts roared otherwise. Enjoy this, no expectation of any sort, he had to remind himself, do not ruin this opportunity.

They drifted towards a small, hidden garden close enough to the main road, its entrance framed with twisting ivy and golden leaves. Lucien wasn't surprised. In the short time he had truly known Elain, he had recognized her pull towards nature, especially gardens and flowers. It was one of the many things that called him to her. There was something about gardening, a simplicity, that was so Elain.

Lucien felt her hand slipping away and he immediately felt the absence of her warmth. The bond had always been strong for him. For Elain it was quieter, something resting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to snap into place. But for him, it was a living thing, a force he had to keep tamed so it wouldn't consume him whole. And now, at their first date, he felt it pulling towards her like a non ending force.

He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her, but his smile didn't falter, as Elain walked through the garden and kneeled. When she stood, he was beside her in an instant, not hovering, just curious. She was holding delicately a dry sunflower.

"This shouldn't have been here," she murmured sadly, almost to herself, tracing the petals gently with gentleness, as if it was something sacred, something suffering an atrocious pain. "There wasn't enough sun. It died without it."

Lucien tilted his head. "You like sunflowers?"

Elain smiled despite herself/a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips. "Y/n showed them to me where we were kids. She had realized they seemed to be around in autumn."

"Your sister has an eye for detail."

She smiled smugly/Elain let out a soft, amused huff. "Oh, she still does. Even if she doesn't seem like it/pretends otherwise," she shook her head, but her smile faltered/faded as she looked back down at the flower. "It soon became my favorite flower."

He studied her, his voice careful. "And why is it?"

Elain hesitated, as if considering whatever or not to answer, but then she quietly responded. She heard the cautious and pure curiosity in his tone, and it warmed her heart. She was glad it wasn't the bond influence, but simply him, wanting to know her as a person first, and later as a mate. In that very moment, she didn't mind either of them.

"They remind me of the sun," there was a strange confidence in her eyes. "And, without it, we wouldn't have flowers of any kind. Nothing would grow. The sunlight feeds the flowers, and it feeds us too."

In the unmistakable silence that followed, something in her eyes shone as she met his gaze. "I know it was you," she said softly, still holding the sunflower. "It was you who told Feyre I should spend time outside. When you came the first time to the Night Court," she turned the flowers between her fingers. "I should thank you for that, because it had worked. You understood what I needed without even knowing me."

Lucien swallowed, stiffening slightly. He hadn't expected her to mention it. His throat felt tight as he remembered. Mother, he did remember far too well how small she had seemed back then. Like a shadow of herself, a shell so close to herself nobody knew how to open even a little bit. He remembered how she addressed their bond without even realizing, how she said nonchalantly he could hear his heartbeat, perhaps even hearing how it has skipped a beat at those very words. It was when his mating instincts flared for the first time.

You reminded me too much of my mother, he thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. The memory of her sending painful stabs into his heart. Alone and trapped in her own court, unable to step out from the shadows, trapped by a cruel a fate she didn't chose.

He had know what she needed. Even then, he had always been the only one who actually did. Even more than y/n.

"You don't need to thank me. Sometimes what we need isn't obvious, even to the people who are supposed to love us," he muttered, making the silence linger for a second. "I just realized how clear it was that all you needed was fresh air and time. That's all."

Elain exhaled, a barely audible sound. "And yet, they didn't. You were the one who realized. Not them. You."

Lucien looked didn't know what to say to that. So instead, he reached for sunflower in her hand and gently took it. "This isn't dead," he murmured, assessing it. Elain saw his mechanical eye concentrating and then, with a flick of his fingers, a golden thinner of magic passed over the petals, before passing it to her with a knowing smile. "It just needs time to reshape. But it's in good hands now."

Elain looked at the flower, then him, understanding gnawing at her. He had used his magic to heal it. For her. It wasn't dead, but it had been at the bridge of dying, but she had picked it up just in time. Lucien had understood what her heart wished without her saying it aloud.

"Or..." Lucien added after some seconds. "You could keep it as a memory from the human lands. To remind yourself that just because your life changed doesn't mean you have to forget who you were. Because it's still part of you." He reached out and tackled the sunflower carefully into her hair. "It suits you. It's radiant, just like you."

A flush deepened on Elain's neck. She was closer now. Close enough for him to see the way her gaze flickered from his eye to his lips. Lucien's chest tightened at the sight, as he felt it through the bond. Her excitement. Her curiosity. Now even stronger than before.

But her wouldn't rush this. He wanted to do this right.

"Shouldn't we check on y/n?" he asked instead. He didn't step back, but he didn't move forward either.

Elain grimaced slightly, glancing at the forgotten festival, not ready to leave the garden behind yet. "Do we really have to?"

Lucien smirked at her quiet tone, startled by the sudden vulnerability in her tone. "You know we do."

She sighed, but the, hesitantly yet deliberately, she reached for his hand. Lucien swallowed hard, trying to push down his instincts that were now in overdrive at her gesture, at her willingness to try, to understand the bond. It was a tortuous dance between patience and restraint, but he would wait, because she was worth it. But even so, walking beside her, hearing her laugh, feeling her delicate and at times hesitant touch, seeing her eyes sparkle with a light that he had longed to see, it was more than he deserved, and less than he craved.

Yet, he wouldn't take it for granted. Not ever. Elain needed this, even if she didn't yet realize it herself. He wouldn't let her excitement rush her into things she wasn't ready for. She wanted to understand things first, she had said it clearly, and for that to happen, she needed time. They both needed it.

Lucien wanted to take things slowly, to get to know her, even if that meant fighting his own nature. But he would do that for her. But he couldn't deny what he couldn't still fully believe. They were together. They were a couple. The word still felt almost foreign to him, unreal. But it was happening. She had given him a chance, and he wouldn't let anything, anything at all, get in between.

He was with her. And that alone, to him, was all that mattered.

You walked between the stands of the human festival, ignoring the chatters that flowed all around you. The deep purple of your dress trailed over the paving stone paths, the hem rustling through the fallen leaves. In the end, you hadn't been able to resist your own urges and you now stood in the line at one of the food stalls.

A few moments later, a warm cinnamon roll sat in your hands, the scent rich with spice. You took a bite, but it didn't taste as you remembered, like you expected. Not entirely bad, but still, different. Like most things since your transition. Yet you had seen it and you couldn't help it. The simple sweet flavor had been a staple of your childhood, a small comfort in a life were belonging didn't exist for you.

But it wasn't enough. The feeling you sought didn't come, and you knew the reason. It was because it wouldn't last long. Nothing ever did. Still, you were determined to steal a few moments of peace away from Velaris, from the suffocating cage of the Court of Dreams.

Then, suddenly, you smelled it.

A scent, faint but unmistakable, that you would recognize everywhere: smoke and burning woods. It made your stomach tighten.

The vendor recognized the wrinkle of your nose and the way you stopped eating. "Is there something wrong, milady?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his careful politeness and the tremble of his voice. Despite all Feyre's efforts, humans still feared the fate, and they didn't bother hide it from you. Or, perhaps, you just observed too much. You didn't cover your years like your sister and her company, you didn't soften your presence, and you couldn't care less whatever they recognized what you had become or not.

It wasn't your problem.

You scoffed. "No need to hide the fear, sir. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have the chance to ask." The vendor paled, taken aback by your attitude, and you just smirked. "Something is burning around here, anyway," you added nonchalantly.

it was a passing customer that, overhearing the interaction, interjected, clearly oblivious to your nature. "Oh, that's just the fire show right around the corner of the next street."

The shoddy cinnamon roll fell from your hands as your heart jolted. You didn’t bother picking it up, your legs started to move even before your mind could even catch up, the scent guiding you.

Fire show? You nearly laughed at the coincidence. The human festival had dozens of pretty performances: music, dancing, puppet shows, cooking competitions. But this? You couldn’t miss it for the world. Not after so many years, even if it wouldn’t been the same anymore.

As soon as you approached, your breath caught in your throat. Flames danced above some dancer heads, curling, twisting in the night cool air and casting golden lights over the onlookers.

It felt magical, even if there wasn’t magic in it. Not there. Just some tricks to fool the villagers, especially kids. Just (sleight) of capable hands and well placed oil. Just fire. Raw, bright and untamed.

And it called to you, challenging you to come closer. And you accepted the call instantly. Without even comprehending what you were doing, you stepped forward, drawn to the lingering flames, your fingers just about to reach for them.

"I wouldn't do it, if I were you," a voice, deep and edged with amusement, stopped you cold. You blinked, startled, as you realized how the heat of the flames were close to your skin, the fire licking towards your outstretched hand, ready to burn. "Fire burns hotter when it knows it has an audience," the voice continued, smooth as the smoke surrounding the place. "Especially curious little foxes like you. You wouldn't want to be the ash it leaves in behind."

You retreated your hand, but didn't step back. The heat of the fire wasn't bothering you at all.

"Foxes are curious, but they're also clever," you said, hand still hovered near the fire. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"And perhaps that's exactly what it was," he chuckled.

Not bothering to answer his comment, you brought your attention back to the show, refusing to indulge him further. "Maybe I didn't mind getting burned, and you just ruined my fun."

A growl made you turn, confused rather than scared. The male stood in front of the first line of villagers, several paces away, watching you with open amusement. Yet, no one was close enough to him. It was as if the air around him carried an aura of unspoken warning, a power that unconsciously warned people to stay at by. It was silent, predatory. Even the fire beside you burned hotter, stirred by his presence.

His auburn air caught the firelight, framing the sharp and elegant figures. Russet eyes, keen and knowing. Recognition slammed into you roughly. It was him. The same male who had sneered at you earlier, calling you mortal.

Your lips curled in irritation. "Oh, you're finished complaining about human manners? Or are you here to critique something else? The way I stand, perhaps?" you remarked.

The male smirked, taking an unhurried step toward you while you refused to move. "A mistake on my part," he admitted, his voice like an intentional purr. "You're anything but mortal, are you?" he tilted his head, studying you thoroughly. "And lacking entirely of self preservation, it seems."

"And what would you know about self preservation?"

A shadow flickered across his expression. It was something distant, unreadable and quick. The second later it was gone, replaced by his impassivity. "Everything and nothing."

Your brow lifted. "Wow, how enlightening," you said, turning back to the flames once again. He chuckled lowly, indulgent, in response. You had expected him to lose interest, but instead he moved closer and in a second he was standing so close to you that your arms nearly brushed. A sigh escaped your lips. "Go bother someone else."

He didn't back down. "But I'm enjoying myself," you shot him a glare, but he ignored it. "If you want to see real fire, you should seek someone who really understand its power."

You rolled your eyes, irritation flaring. "This show is made without the advantage of magic. By mortals," you pointed out, mimicking his earlier sneer and gaining just a smirk from his part. "Not everyone can say they could. Not everyone needs magic to wield fire."

"Not everyone is born with it in their veins, but perhaps..." his voice lowered and his eyes flickered with something almost knowing but still unreadable. "Perhaps you're just a little flame waiting to ignite."

You scoffed, but it felt hollow. You faced him, your eyes sharpening, more assessing. Your heart was too loud in your years, too irregular, even for a fae. Something about this male made you think.

And then it all clicked.

He wasn't just some male. His air. His eyes. The sharp angles of his face. He did look familiar. Not because you had met him before the festival, but because you had seen those features before. Not on him. On someone else. Someone closer to you, your only friend. Lucien.

As the puzzle completed inside your head, the gasp that left your throat was unfiltered. Your pulse lost a beat.

Not just some fae, but Eris Vanserra.

Eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and its legitimate heir to the throne. A male wrapped in a thousand of rumors and stories, none of them kind. Not that you cared, anyway. In your eyes, stories will always be stories, and everyone is capable of making them. Especially someone like the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

Eris expression turned smug, your thoughts given away. "Figured it out, have you?"

You didn't answer directly. "I'm not a little flame. And even if I was, you would never know."

"Oh, I most certainly would."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called your name. Elain's figure was walking with purpose towards you, a few step ahead from her mate. Lucien's face darkened as soon as he spotted Eris standing too close to you, tension instantly crackling between them.

"Lady Elain," Eris mused. "And my little brother, too."

Lucien's voice was cool. Too cool. "Eris."

"Enjoying yourself?" Eris drawled, his gaze moving to Elain. "About time."

His brother's jaw tensed. "What do you want?"

Eris only chuckled. "I would be careful if I were you, little brother. History has a way of repeating itself."

It wasn't his usual wit taking place. It was a warning.

Lucien stiffened. A silent conversation passed between them, one layered with too much history, too much left unsaid. Then, just as smoothly as he appeared, Eris turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

A silent conversation passed between the Vnserras, one that left even Lucien confused. He knew though how Eris acted, he knew his ways. He knew that there was a hidden meaning behind his words not just his past and the pain that caused him. It was something else. Eris gave his back to the three of them without adding more, glancing a last glance at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Elain scoffed sharply. "He isn't subtle at all."

Absolutely not.

Feyre and Rhysand returned right in that moment, their smug expressions telling you their meeting had gone well. Of course. In one way or another, they always got their way. Every fucking time, no matter the situation.

"We're ready to go," said Feyre, satisfied. "Home awaits us."

Home. Velaris never was that for you. And neither had the human lands. Then why you felt the hole in your chest grew bigger? Why was it so hard to not look back? Why you had to push down the strange tug at your heart, the same one that told you to stay?

And, more specifically, why did it felt as if winnowing back to the Night Court was the greatest mistake of all?

A.N: I apologize for the delay and for the length, I will try to make the next shorter (if I can). I was actually feeling very nervous and insecure about posting this, but I hope you liked Eris first appearance and his first interaction with the reader. Let me know if you liked it and your opinion if you would like, it means a lot to me. And thank you if read until here!

Taglist is always open <3

Taglist: @wrenisrad @antisocial-architect @homeslices @fox-in-flowers @thecraziestcrayon @bunnyredgirl @lizzytish82 @lportes-22 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @iowaladynerd @samuelseoswife @abbott976 @marrass @rcarbo1 @the-fandom-ness @selena-24 @sushijimaaa @elisabethch82

[kittendreaw]

Actor! Satoru x F! Reader.

Mainlist

Pt.2

Satoru was on top of the world, he was the prince of Hollywood, the new heartthrob of the big screen, sounds fantastic, doesn't it?

It was for everyone except you, his poor manager, the only reason you haven't quit is because of how ridiculously good the pay is.

"Just Please make my job easier Satoru." You couldn't help but be frustrated, Dealing with Satoru was sometimes like dealing with a spoiled brat and sometimes it was just worse.

"Well, I'll pay you for that."

"You pay me to be your manager, not your babysitter so please stay here and cooperate."

And of course he didn't because it was complicated, no matter how long he had been in the industry he was still a pain in the ass for assistants, makeup artists, directors, photographers, etc. Basically anyone who had the misfortune to work with him.

It was always the same, you should be used to it by now but it was impossible.

"What do you mean you're not going to come with me?"

"It's not that hard to understand."

He rolled his eyes while his arms crossed over his chest. No matter your size or how high your heels are, Satoru was simply giant in front of you. "Don't be a Smartass, Yn, you're my manager, you have to come with me."

"Nanami will do the job of going with you that night."

"but I don't want Nanami! "

"I'll be busy with some paperwork that night."

" Well, have Nanami do the paperwork and you come with me."

" It's not that easy."

Yes, it was that easy but you hated big events and going to the Oscars was torture for you, you had managed to get away on most occasions but Satoru was getting more and more insistent.

"Why?"

You let out a sigh, you could make up as many excuses as you could he just always kept asking.

"Satoru, look, I don't want to go."

"Why?"

"I don't know I just-" You could deal with people, that was no longer the problem but you still don't get used to all the cameras ready to capture every second.

"Why do you mean? It's not that hard, you just have to get pretty and come with me, you can do that."

"But I don't want."

"But you don't want." He repeated, clearly he was not happy and clearly not the day was not going to end without him getting what he wanted. There was a pause in which no one said anything. "I'm your boss, you can't tell me no."

"You should review workers' rights, Satoru."

"Dammit." He muttered. "Just say yes, please. I swear it won't be so terrible, besides I already bought you a dress, it would be rude of you to refuse it."

A pair of puppy eyes and a few more pleas and just as he wanted it, there you were with the pretty burgundy dress, the high black heels and gloves of the same color.

"Look at you, you are beautiful."

Satoru approached you, observing every detail of your appearance. It was true that the dress was pretty and that the makeup artist had done an excellent job, but you couldn't help but make your stomach churn every time you remembered the place you were going.

"But I know how to do it even better."

Satoru called one of the attendants who held out a box from which he pulled out a diamond necklace. It was beautiful and also damn expensive, it was the kind of thing you'd never pay for but always admire from afar. Satoru put it around your neck giving the final touch to your look that night.

"I-" It was too much for you, you couldn't accept it.

"Not a single word, tonight you have to stand out, after all you are my date." You felt your soul leave your body for a few seconds, you had planned to stay as hidden as you could but Satoru wanted you next to him posing for the cameras, this was definitely too much, much more than you were ready to do, you couldn't, Your mind was only thinking about all the negative possibilities this could bring and all the embarrassing things you could do. You wanted to throw up, was it too late to get back to the paperwork plan?

"What?"

[l0singsdogs]

batfam ! alternative universe, no powers.

I've had this idea for a while now. Spending so much time on social media, reading different takes, I started wondering—what if the Batfamily woke up in a completely normal universe? No aliens, no magic, no villains trying to take over the world every other week. Just… normal people, living normal lives—going to college, having relationships, working regular jobs. For a group of people used to fighting monsters and stopping world-ending threats, that kind of life would be unsettling.

read more, because this is long like really long.

But how did it happen? The usual way. A battle. A teenager getting their hands on something they shouldn’t have. Powers spiraling out of control. And, of course, the Batfam stepped in to fix it, because you know everything weird is always happening in Gotham. 

Batman calls for backup, but the family is still working through their issues. Dick and Jason barely talk, though they’re trying—because, at the end of the day, they’re still brothers. Then, suddenly, it’s just them. Just the Batfamily, thrown into this bizarrely ordinary world.

Duke sees the light first. Then Steph. Even Cass. And then—nothing.

They wake up somewhere else.

Bruce, as always, is the first to regain consciousness. But something is off. His mansion isn’t quite the same. It’s warmer, cozier. There are more pets curled up around the house. His bedroom is a mess—lived in. The walls are covered with photos of his kids. There are even pictures of him and Selina, scattered among them.

And then, he realizes just how wrong everything is.

His body aches, but not like it used to. There are no scars from old battles with the Joker. No lingering wounds from alien invasions. He still feels exhaustion in his bones, but it’s different—just the tiredness of a man his age, not the crushing weariness of a vigilante running on fumes. Even his reflection looks different. Relaxed, almost. Like he’s lived a life that wasn’t defined by war.

And that? That’s unsettling.

The next to wake up is Jason. And it's weird—because for the first time in years, his body doesn’t hurt. The familiar, constant pain is gone. The scars from his autopsy, from all the things that marked his past, aren’t there. He doesn’t feel the echoes of old wounds anymore. And where he wakes up doesn’t look like any of the safe houses he has scattered around Gotham. The last thing he remembers is fighting—arguing with Grayson over something stupid. Then the light—just for a second, he thought he was dying again. But, you know… in a way that wasn’t as catatonic? Then… he wakes up. The bedroom is unfamiliar, but somehow, it feels like his. Bookshelves are packed with novels of all kinds. Posters cover the walls—bands he actually likes: Rammstein, Linkin Park, System of a Down. A collection of motorcycle helmets is neatly displayed on a shelf. The whole place is put together, calm.

And then, the worst part. When he looks in the mirror, a scream rips from his throat.Because the thing that haunts him, in his life and in his dreams—his autopsy scars—are gone. Completely erased. All that remains is a single, unfamiliar scar near his heart.

Strange. The worst part? He has no idea why his head is pounding so hard. No clue why memories, both complicated and good, flash through his mind—but waking up from the dead isn’t one of them.

Dick is next.

And he wakes up pissed. Because, you know? He was in the middle of fighting with Jason. Jason, who treats everything like a joke. Jason, who doesn’t take things seriously when he should. Trying to fix things with him is exhausting—because Jason is too Jason. Stubborn, impatient, infuriating.

Then suddenly—this. The room is unfamiliar, but not completely. There’s a framed picture on his nightstand—him and Starfire. Kori Anders. His walls are lined with posters, some from his past. The Flying Graysons. His family.

It feels wrong. Off. Because he doesn’t live in the manor anymore. He doesn’t have photos of Kori in his room. And—most importantly—his bedroom has never looked this neat.

Not ever. There are no scattered pieces of his suit on the floor waiting to be washed. No mess of training gear dumped in a corner. Just sneakers. Gym clothes.

Then he hears it—a scream.

Jason. Dick tries to get up, but his body is too damn exhausted. It feels like lead, weighing him down. He can’t move. And for one horrible second, he wonders—maybe he died. Maybe he died and somehow took Jason with him.

The next to wake up is Tim—

Tim, who was already frustrated, tangled up in his own emotions. He had too much on his plate—leading his own team, growing distant from the manor, finishing his GED to leave high school early. Too many things were happening.

He wakes up to the sound of screaming.

For a second, he thinks he’s still in Gotham, still in the middle of that fight. But when he blinks, he’s somewhere else—another bedroom. And this one is a mess. Clothes on the floor, sneakers everywhere, a couple of skateboards tossed in a corner, video games and comics scattered around. The kind of room an eighteen-year-old should have.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t feel the aches from past fights. He feels… lighter. His memories are hazy, and he can’t lie—this is weird. The light streaming through his window feels too warm, too bright. But the last thing he remembers? He was in Gotham, in the middle of a brutal winter.

And then—the worst part.

When he fully opens his eyes, he sees it.

A uniform.

One he knows from his nightmares.

Gotham Academy.

His blood runs cold. He’s convinced he’s trapped in a time loop. That somehow, he’s been sent back to high school.

And when he stumbles out of bed and catches sight of a framed photo—one of him and Conner Kent sitting on a shelf—he promptly passes out.

Yeah, sure, maybe the others think they’ve died.

But Tim?

Tim is convinced he’s in hell.

The last to wake up is Damian Wayne.

And he wakes up full of irritation, because the last thing he remembers is yelling at Drake, Jason, and Grayson—calling them idiots for letting their emotions get in the way of the fight. Telling them they were acting like children when they should’ve been handling the real problem. But now? Now he’s lying in bed, surrounded by warmth. His cat is curled up at his side. His dogs—Titus and Ace—are sprawled across the floor. Even Grayson’s new puppy, Haley, is nestled beside him. A tiny, scruffy thing missing a leg, one that Damian had reluctantly (not really) half-adopted in his head.

It’s the screaming that wakes him. That, and the warmth.

Because it doesn’t make sense. Why is the sun streaming into his room? Why does it feel like July when they were just in December? They were days away from the holidays.

And now this. The first thing he sees are his animals. Did the fight end that quickly? Did he lose consciousness? His body isn’t injured, his skills are intact—nothing about his reflexes feels off.

But the room?

That’s what unsettles him. The walls are covered with things—art, sports memorabilia, books, musical instruments. A guitar. Sure, he knows how to play, but he’s never been the kind of person to keep one in his bedroom. And speaking of his bedroom…

This isn’t it.

It’s missing things. His weapons. His swords. The League of Assassins insignias. His belongings. But what truly throws him off?

A framed photo. One of him and his mother.

Talia al Ghul never took photos. Not with him. Not with anyone. The League of Assassins didn’t believe in cameras, in preserving memories like that. And yet, here it is.

And that’s when it finally sinks in. Something is very, very wrong.

That’s how it happens. A wild fight. A teenager with uncontrolled, inexplicable powers. And just like that, the Batfamily wakes up in another universe.

A universe with no powers. No aliens. No world-ending crises. Just an ordinary life. And the only thing they know for sure?

Five of them find themselves in a living room. A living room that is distinctly not theirs. Because their living room is grand, filled with history, with antique furniture and endless shadows.

But this? This looks like something out of an interior design magazine. Minimalist. Sleek. A massive TV taking up the wall.

The others? Duke, Steph, Cass?

Yeah.

Their experiences waking up are even worse.

So, yeah. This is what I have in mind. I don’t know if I’ll keep writing—it depends on how this goes. These ideas just keep coming to me, and I’m debating whether to drop all of this as a one-shot or turn it into a full fic on AO3.

I’d love to hear thoughts on it—believe me, I have a lot more ideas.

[baby-blue-skyy]

Too Sweet // R. Grimes (TWD) Part 2

Second part of: Too Sweet

I’m still getting familiar with writing on Tumblr, it’s going to take time to get used to, but I am determined to keep up this little series. Feel free to give me suggestions, ideas and feedback! Once I get a little more experience on here I will definitely be taking requests!

Warning: age gap, smoking

Summary: After arriving in Alexandria, Rick is still on high alert, uncertainty about the people who live within the walls of his new, unfamiliar home. But one person has caught his attention.

•••

It had been a few days since Rick's awkward encounter with Daisy. Days filled with constant vigilance and a haunting undercurrent of thoughts he couldn't quite shake. It wasn't that he wanted to dwell on her—he had more important things on his mind. His group needed him. He had a job to do. But every time he tried to focus on something else, her smile, the way her presence had thrown him off balance, was all he could think about.

The only thing that had given him some relief was that he hadn't seen her again. Maybe she was just a distraction. Maybe she was a complication he didn't need in his life. Rick didn't know, but he was trying not to care.

Then, Josh showed up—the next day as promised.

Rick hadn’t expected to meet him so early in the morning, and honestly, he didn't care to. The second Rick opened the door to find Josh standing there with a bag of clothes for Judith, his first instinct was to size him up—and Josh didn't pass the test.

The guy was a walking contradiction. Tall, built like a man who thought he could outfight anything—if only he wasn't too busy looking at himself in every reflective surface. His eyes were too sharp, his smile too wide, his words too loud. Every word that came out of his mouth was like a hammer, like he was so sure of his own importance that he couldn't help but drag the conversation on longer than necessary.

Josh talked about everything: his old life, his job (before the world ended, of course), the way he used to pick up chicks in the old world. Rick didn't care about any of it, but Josh didn't seem to notice Rick's lack of interest. Rick's gaze kept flicking to the side, his thoughts constantly returning to the discomfort of being this close to someone so... self-absorbed.

Josh made a big show of how "lucky" Rick was to be living in Alexandria. Of course, he didn't know Rick's situation, didn't understand the kind of weight he carried. Josh was the kind of guy who had probably always gotten what he wanted, with little effort. And Rick hated it. He hated the way Josh assumed everything was easy, the way his words filled the room like noise that had no purpose.

But Rick smiled thinly and nodded, trying to keep it together. He didn't trust Josh. And if he were being honest, he didn't trust anyone in Alexandria.

The day had drifted into the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, but Rick couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. The police uniform felt wrong against his skin. It was new, crisp, and clean, and he hadn't worn a uniform in a long time. It was a reminder of who he used to be. But it didn't make him feel any more like the man he once was.

He was supposed to patrol, to keep the streets secure. But instead, his eyes darted everywhere, scanning for any sign of trouble, any sign that this place wasn't as perfect as it seemed. Alexandria was a different world, but that didn't mean it was safe. Not yet. Not until he figured out exactly what was going on here.

Rick walked the streets, his steps heavy, his mind preoccupied with a thousand things—his group, the community, the job he had to do. He found himself circling back—his steps falling directly infront of his home. But something caught his eye. Something, or rather someone.

It was her.

She sat on her front porch, casually holding a cigarette between her fingers, exhaling thin streams of smoke into the air. She sat in a white wicker chair—her legs pressed to her chest—her eyes were fixed on something beyond him, but when Rick's gaze met hers, it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through him.

The moment dragged out, and Rick stood still for a few beats, watching her. He hadn't expected to see her again, regardless of the close proximity of living courters they shared. She wasn't like anyone else in Alexandria. She didn't belong to this world in the way the others did. Her beauty was like an ache he didn't know how to place, and every time he let himself think about it, it made him feel exposed, vulnerable.

She had a toddler with her, a little girl playing on the steps with chalk, oblivious to the world around her, drawing swirls and shapes on the pavement with innocent joy.

Rick swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through him. His mind screamed at him to keep walking, to focus on his patrol. But before he could stop himself, his feet were moving toward her. There was no logical reason for it—no good reason at all.

His legs felt heavy as he approached the porch, the quiet creak of the boards beneath his boots amplifying in the otherwise still air.

He wasn't sure why he'd walked over there. It wasn't like him. He didn't go looking for distractions. But her presence—her softness—had drawn him in, like a magnet.

"Thank you," He rasped, his fingers flexing at his sides. "For the clothes," he said, the words coming out without thought.

Daisy's eyes snapped to him, quick and sharp, like she hadn't expected him to be standing there. She inhaled deeply, the smoke from her cigarette curling around her in thin, lazy spirals. She studied him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as if deciding how to respond.

"No problem at all," she said, her voice lighter than he remembered, a hint of something playful in her tone. "How're you settling in?"

Rick nodded, trying to shake the odd feeling crawling up his spine. "Good," he muttered, his eyes drifting involuntarily to the toddler, still absorbed in her drawings. The little girl's chubby fingers worked furiously at the colorful chalk, oblivious to the world around her. Rick felt something stir in him—some quiet ache that had nothing to do with the apocalypse and everything to do with the future.

But his thoughts were immediately pulled back to Daisy as she untangled herself from the chair with a fluidity that was too easy, too graceful for the world they now lived in. It shouldn't have been so disorienting, but it was. She stood a couple steps above him, her proximity—so close to him—it should not have made him feel so... nervous.

He forced his eyes back to her face, but his focus wavered when the faint scent of vanilla and stale cigarette smoke wrapped around him like a blanket, invading his senses and pulling him deeper into the haze of her presence.

It was strange. The smell. He hadn't thought about it in so long—vanilla, perfume, something soft. It hit him in waves, disorienting him. He hadn't smelled something that normal in a long time. A sharp rush of dizziness caught him, and for a moment, he didn't know whether it was the world shifting beneath his feet or just the effect of her.

She moved down another step, the faintest rustle of fabric—the oversized t-shirt she accompanied brushing her thighs. It shouldn't have made him as anxious as it did, shouldn't have made his pulse pick up, but it did.

He had to get control of this. He couldn't let her get under his skin.

"So, this your job?" Daisy asked, her voice lighter now that she was standing directly in front of him, just a step above him. not that far away at all. "What are you, a cop or something?"

Rick swallowed, his breath caught in his throat for a second as he stared up at her, trying to keep his expression even, trying to keep everything in check. "Just helping out," he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't the playful, easy smile from before. There was something softer in it now, something that tugged at him in ways he wasn't ready to deal with. "I see," she said. "Well, the uniform suits you...I think you look real professional.”

Rick's breath hitched, but he forced himself to look away.

His chest grew tight at her words, even though they fell mindlessly from her lips. The way she spoke, the subtle playfulness in her voice—she was so casual, so effortlessly confident, it felt like she was holding some secret that Rick couldn’t quite figure out. His pulse quickened as he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.

“So, Deanna’s throwing a party?” he asked, the words feeling like a lifeline to something that wasn’t this strange tension between them.

Daisy hummed, leaning back against the porch railing as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She flicked the ash, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then her tongue darted out, dragging across her bottom lip. Rick tried not to notice.

“That’s what I hear,” she said, voice low, teasing, like she wasn’t fully invested in the conversation, but was enjoying his company nonetheless.

Rick looked down momentarily, shifting on his boots, trying to steady himself. His eyes darted up, catching her delicate form again. The soft curve of her neck, the way her fingers grazed her shirt. His gaze lingered before he spoke, unable to keep the question from escaping.

“Are you gonna be there?”

She pulled the hem of her oversized t-shirt down, her movements graceful, as if she had all the time in the world. She glanced briefly at the child still scribbling on the pavement with chalk, a moment of soft focus before she turned briskly, walking a few paces onto the porch, her fingers gently stubbing the cigarette into the ash tray. Her movements were like something Rick couldn’t quite place—effortless and fluid, like a dance he hadn’t been invited to.

“Josh,” she said, her tone casual, “he really doesn’t like those sorts of things.”

Rick stiffened at her words. It wasn’t the content of her statement, but the way it made him feel. The sudden, cold undercurrent that seemed to leak into her tone. There was something there. He could feel it, even if she wasn’t saying it outright. But he decided not to press. Not his business. She was none of his business.

He nodded slowly, the unease settling in his gut.

Daisy shifted on her feet, but her smile was soft now, a different sort of warmth to it, one that made his chest tighten. Her hands wrapped around herself, and she leaned against the railing, eyes on the horizon for a moment, as if contemplating something, before she turned back to him.

“For you,” she said, her voice warm, light, and playful, “I might make an exception.”

Rick’s heart skipped a beat. The words sounded innocent, but the way she said them made him shudder. There was a subtle shift in the air around them, like the temperature had gone up by a degree or two. Her voice, the soft smile—Rick’s body was already betraying him, responding to the unspoken invitation in her tone. But she wasn’t looking at him like that.

“And I have to meet your little one. I’ve been dying to get ahold of her.”

Rick’s chest tightened even more. His breath caught, and he stepped back instinctively, feeling the weight of the sudden pull in his stomach, that hot, unfamiliar pressure. It was like his mind and body were at war, his gut screaming at him to stay focused, to turn away, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Well,” he rasped, forcing a smile, “I should get back to it.”

He could feel the heat of her still lingering, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air between them. His feet moved almost reluctantly, but his eyes stayed fixed on her for a fraction longer than necessary.

A quiet moment passed before Daisy spoke again, her tone a little lighter, almost teasing as she gave him a soft smile. “Right! Well, stay safe out there, officer.”

Rick let out an amused chuckle. He couldn’t tell if the chuckle was more for himself, trying to ease the tension that had wrapped itself around him, or because she had said it in that way, with a wink of playfulness that made his chest tighten all over again.

But Daisy couldn’t help it. She let out a soft laugh, almost like an afterthought, before she caught herself, shaking her head.

Rick felt the strange flutter in his stomach, the sensation unsettling, like the world around him had shifted. He felt exposed—like she’d somehow managed to see something inside him he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Stay safe, Rick,” she said, her voice still light, but the faintest trace of something deeper lingered beneath the words. She turned back toward her child, but the unspoken tension hung between them like a thread pulled too tight.

Rick walked away, each step feeling like a battle against something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control. His mind was a mess, and every inch of his body screamed at him to forget the moment, to forget Daisy.

But her words, her presence—they weren’t something he could easily shake off.

Part 3 available below:

[wutheringmights]

Chapter 31: The Spoken Confession & The Black Blood Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

Hello everybody! Guess who's back! If you remember me, then you know what bullshit this is. If you don't, then oh boy!

I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long. The good news is that it's about 42k long. That's a lovely little novella right there. With how crazy the world is right now, it feels bad to write a dark fantasy with a cornerstone of bad people in politics, but hopefully you will find some catharsis in this.

I know I did. I cried. A lot.

Cheers! 🥂

In this chapter of the fanfiction that is way too long for it's own good:

Link finds solace in his friendship with Proxi

The Knights of Hyrule are here, which means its time to deal with the black blood problem.

Pain, and perhaps a little suffering to go with it.

📚 Read It Here 📚

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[mymoshangthoughts]

more of my mobingshang agenda lolol

but oki to keep from complicating matters, this is an au where shen yuan never transmigrates. so he's off living his happy cucumber life and buying his binghe merch while cursing that hack of an author.

MEANWHILE that hack of an author got grand-slammed into the story he wrote, as per canon, and he is Trying His Fucking Best To Survive Okay. And he thinks he's doing an okay job of it too! He avoided interacting too much with the protagonist during his disciple days, but when they did run into each other he made an effort to make a good impression on his future emperor.

things were going Just Fine until the day that binghe accidentally found out there was a demon sleeping on an ding peak using his dream demon powers. w/o shen yuan to distract him, he's already been gathering intel on all the peaks AND BOY IS THAT SOME INTEL. but now binghe is big curious about this demon. is the demon like him? someone who joined the sect without knowing what they were? or were they a demon spy? what were they doing on an ding of all places?

so binghe decides to take a good long peek into this demons dreams, just to get a feel for what sort of person he is and theres mobei jun in all his booby glory, the sexiest man binghe has ever seen in his entire fucking life.... who is dreaming about napping? literally. thats the dream. mobei jun is taking a cat nap in the snow by a tree with a satisfied expression on his face. clearly the demon likes the cold.

it's a really stupid a simple dream but its just... cute? binghe is kinda dying over how cute it is. how much does this guy like napping? but also this tells binghe next to nothing about the identity of the strange an ding demon so he really should prod the dream to gather intel. but he kinda cant bring himself to? and he winds up letting mobei just dream bc he's so cute, determining that he can prod the dream next time

binghe watches a few of mobei's dreams that way. sometimes mobei is fighting in his dreams, sometimes he's napping or reading, and sometimes peak lord shang appears in the dreams, just kinda scrambling away in that undignified way that he does. which isnt actually surprising, mobei is on an ding so of course the people around him might appear in his dreams and the peak lord is the person who sticks out the most. binghe has certainly had more than one terrible dream involving shen qingqiu. at least peak lord shang seems to just be an inept peak lord and not a cruel one, binghe can respect that

binghe's irl investigations of an ding arent proving very fruitful tho. he cant find a disciple with mobei's appearance anywhere on an ding and he is LOOKING, but perhaps he has some sort of appearance distorting magic? he does have some undeniably demonic features so that would make sense

anyway, binghe doesn't end up interfering in the dream until he winds up in a nasty one from mobei's childhood and he is PISSED bc he now has a fair idea how this guy wound up stuck in the human world, but also who could dare be cruel to baby mobei?! he's literally the cutest thing on the planet!

so binghe shows up in the memory dream and scoops up child mobei, carrying him away from the danger and transforming the dream around them to be something pleasant that mobei would like. snow and creatures and books and hoenstly binghe is getting the best kind of power trip from watching mobei's face just light up as he's saved from his terrible dream

and okay, binghe is very invested now. what's the harm in just... showing up in mobei's dreams? ya know, just on and off. he's another face in the sect. it's easily explained away as "oh a random shidi appears in my dreams lol dreams are so weird" and binghe takes to interacting with mobei in the dreams. just small things. sitting next to him while he naps or asking about what he's reading or helping him in fights and it's just Really Nice to be with him

mobei doesnt talk much and he's either terminally awkward or super shy, or maybe both, but binghe gets really happy over every time he's able to get mobei to talk to him

except

except the most fucking common topic is shang fucking qinghua.

look, binghe has nothing against the an ding peak lord. he really doesnt. qinghua's been nothing but a good shishu to him. but it's just... really annoying to him somehow that he spends so much time and effort to get mobei to open his mouth to talk about what he's reading and what comes out of his mouth is something inane like "qinghua's writing is better" and what's with that? 'qinghua'? not shizun? not shifu? not even shixiong or shidi? QINGHUA?

WHAT IS THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND CAN QINGHUA PLEASE JUST DIE THANKYOU

binghe isnt quite blackened yet so he's still feeling a lil ashamed over being so possessive and cruel in his thoughts but fr, if he has to hear another "the pelt will be for qinghua" after they hunt a beast together in the dream world, binghe might actually do something very unfilial to his dear shishu

hedging, binghe decides to prod the dreams so that he can understand the relationship between mobei and qinghua better. directing it to a random dream about their past together. he's expecting something about maybe them being disciples of the same generation but what he is NOT expecting is to find himself in a cramped inn where qinghua was circling mobei like a fucking octopus and nearly licking him where a younger (and INJURED) mobei is looking quite flustered and unsure what to do before shoving qinghua off the bed

and what exactly the fuck was that? binghe needs CONTEXT. but the dream ended before he got more because mobei woke up and oki, now binghe is going to investigate the fuck out of his damn shishu. HOW DARE HE HUG MOBEI LIKE THAT BEFORE BINGHE GOT AN OPPORTUNITY TO HOLD MOBEI LIKE THAT, HE IS DROWNING IN VINEGAR RN THANKYOU

and now qinghua is freaked the fuck out bc his protag son is Paying Attention To Him. making an effort to make conversation and make excuses to run errands to an ding and Yep, that Cannot bode well actually. it doesnt help that his king has been acting a bit strange lately as well.

not necessarily angry or mean. just kinda... distracted. like his attention is elsewhere. and ya know what? qinghua kinda resents it oki. bc even tho his king is mean and grumpy and a spoiled tyrant and a total jerk, his king usually pays more attention to him? and this split focus is stressing qinghua out a lot. so he's doubling his efforts to please his king while trying to dodge the protagonist and His Life Is Stress

and then the immortal alliance happens and qinghua thinks its mostly gonna go as planned, except NOT bc mobei jun shows up in person and looks noticeably shocked when he meets binghe. and binghe looks shocked too?? and the system is freaking out and shen qingqiu shows up to be scummy so things SHOULD be back on track except--

except mobei jumps into the abyss after binghe?! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING EXACTLY AND WHEN EXACTLY DID IT HAPPEN AND FUCK QINGHUA DOESNT KNOW WHY HE JUMPED IN AFTER THEM BOTH, HE REALLY HAS NO FUCKING EXPLANATION, ITS THE STUPIDEST THING HE'S EVER DONE

cue abyss arc but it's qinghua and binghe passive aggressively fighting each other for mobei's attention all through the abyss 🤣 just the cattiest of fights between them that also results in Tension between them bc theres also attraction there pfff but they're both too fixated on how badly they want mobei to really pay attention to that

[fuck1ng-queen]

Less Complicated

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: none actually, enemies to lovers

Author comments: hey bestiessss! this is the first oneshot i'm posting to celebrate valentine's day with bad omens and i'm so excited to this week because i'll post one per day! i hope you all like it and see you tomorrow! 💕

The wind was blowing so hard you could hear it. You pressed your arms against your body, trying your best to close your coat around you. The leafless trees danced under the light of the streetlamps. A few small piles of snow piled up on the damp sidewalks, reflecting the brightness of the shop windows decorated with red hearts and shiny letters. The distant sound of laughter and conversations between couples walking by created a cozy backdrop, contrasting with your loneliness as you walked. Valentine's Day had never been a special day for you, it was just another one when the world around you was immersed in hearts and flowers. As you walked to the café on the corner, the one you always went to when you felt lonely, your thoughts were occupied with the upcoming exhibition you were organizing for the local gallery. It was the only thing that still kept you distracted from it all.

The sound of music in the distance caught your attention. You frowned in disapproval as you recognized the melody of the famous song by the band you avoided listening to so much. More specifically, the lead singer you'd rather forget: Noah.

Noah had always been a constant presence in your life, but not always for the best reasons. Ever since high school, your lives seemed intertwined by an inexplicable rivalry. He was the kind of person who always made a point of annoying you, as if he knew exactly where every single one of your vulnerabilities was. How could someone who hated you so much get to know you so well? And to make things worse, he did it with pleasure, always with a smile on his face that at the time you could die for, but you would never tell anyone that you found it attractive.

The music in the distance brought back memories. The fierce competitions to be the best student in the class, the discussions about who was the most creative in the projects, the challenging looks you exchanged every chance you got. Noah always found a way to unsettle you, with his unfunny jokes and constant teasing. He knew exactly how to make you angry.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” Noah scoffed after one of the many competitions you’ve entered.

“At least I make an effort, unlike you who only rely on your own cheap charm,” you retorted, with sparks in your eyes.

“Charm? I didn’t know you noticed,” he replied with that mischievous smile that only pissed you off even more.

Inside the café, the warmth and the scents welcomed you. You took off your coat and sat down by the window, opening your computer to revise a few things. You were so immersed in your work that you almost didn't notice when a man entered the café, shaking the snow out of his hair and heading for the counter. He looked different from what you remembered, maybe more mature, but still with that carefree air that irritated you so much. You blinked a few times until you believed it was none other than Noah.

“I can’t believe it.” His voice brought you back to reality.

You looked up, forcing a polite smile. “Noah.”

“You here? I swear I didn’t expect to see you.” He smiled, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m working. What about you?”

“Show. We're in town. It looks like the band is still following you,” he joked, and you let out a sigh.

“Unfortunately, it seems so.” You turned your attention back to the screen, trying to put an end to the conversation.

But Noah wasn't the type of person to be ignored so easily. He ordered a coffee and sat down at your table, facing you. “Why are you always so serious? Isn't it Valentine's Day? You should be having fun.”

“And what about you? Where's your romantic day?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't have one. My passion is music, remember?” He shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.

“Of course. How could I forget?” you replied, with a touch of sarcasm. “You play everywhere.”

“You always notice, then” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “But what about you, still organizing those art exhibitions?” Noah asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Yes, that's my job,” you replied as dryly as you could, turning your eyes back to your laptop.

“You know, you really take all this seriously. Haven't you ever thought about relaxing a bit?” he teased.

You sighed and closed your laptop with an audible click. “Noah, why do you always feel the need to tease me?”

“Because it's fun to see you get angry,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “But maybe I also like to see you a little out of your comfort zone.”

“You don't change, do you? Always the same Noah, eager to be the center of attention,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“And you, always so focused, so determined,” he said softly. “Maybe that's what I admire about you.”

You couldn't help but be surprised by the honesty in his voice. “Admire? You?”

“Yes. As much as we fight, I've always admired your passion for what you do. We're artists, we can't deny that we're passionate, and I admire that in you. Even if I don't say it often,” Noah admitted, looking directly into your eyes.

You felt disconcerted. You weren't used to this vulnerable version of Noah, let alone a compliment from him, or the way you felt, unable to arm yourself for a response. You looked away, trying to process what he had said.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not knowing what to say.

Noah smiled, realizing that he had managed to disarm you. “Who knows, maybe we should try being friends for once?”

You arched an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Friends? I don't know if we're ready for that.”

“Maybe not now, but who knows in the future?” Noah replied, getting up to leave. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Good luck with the new exhibition.”

“Thank you, Noah. Good luck with your presentation,” you replied, watching as Noah left the café.

(...)

In the following days, you tried to concentrate on your work, but the conversation with Noah kept going through your head. He seemed different, more sincere, more vulnerable. It made you uneasy.

On the opening night of the exhibition, you were nervous. The lights in the gallery shone brightly, reflecting the meticulously selected paintings and sculptures. You ran your eyes over everything, as if there were still some detail or other that might have gone unnoticed, in an attempt to suppress your nervousness.

“It's perfect,” Noah's voice sounded next to you, soft and encouraging.

You turned to him, surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to support you. We're artists, I know how lonely today can be for you. I thought you might need a friend tonight,” he said with a warm smile.

You felt a genuine wave of gratitude at that moment, making you smile back. “Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Noah hesitated, as if choosing every word he was going to say.

“Of course,” you replied, curious.

“Why have you always hated me so much?” The question was direct, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that made you feel your stomach lurch.

You took a deep breath, staring at him. “It was never hate, Noah. I think it was... fear. Fear of how you made me feel. You were always so free, so confident, and I didn't know how to deal with it.”

“Fear?” Noah asked, surprised. “I never wanted to scare you. I always thought you hated me because well... I've always been a jerk to you.”

You laughed softly, despite your serious look. “And you were. But I was also a bit stubborn and proud. The two of us were always competing, always trying to prove I don't know what to I don't know who. Maybe we were actually trying to hide what we really felt.”

“And what did we really feel?” Noah asked in a soft tone, but full of curiosity.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “I think we were afraid of getting hurt. It was easier to fight than to admit that maybe there was something more. Something we didn't know how to deal with.”

“I won't deny it, I always felt there was something more,” Noah admitted. “But I didn't know how to tell you. Every time I tried, we ended up fighting. And then I thought, maybe it's better this way. Less complicated.”

“Less complicated, more painful,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “As time went by, I kept thinking about all the things I wish I'd told you, but never did. There was always a barrier between us, something we never knew how to cross.”

Noah took a step closer, gently holding your hand. You didn't remember, but that was probably the first time you touched each other, and it gave you goosebumps. “I always felt that there was something big between us. Maybe it's too late, but I think I'd still like to explore it with you.” 

You felt your heart soar at his words. “Noah, I feel it too. I think I want to stop running away.” 

He smiled, gently pulling you closer. “So, what do you say about starting now? My name is Noah and I sing in a band.” He smiled, holding out his hand to shake yours.

You giggled, feeling your face heat up. You smiled back, your eyes shining with the chance of a new hope, feeling that the truce between you could last forever.

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Masterlist | Valentine's Day One Shots

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@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm @blade-dressed-in-red

Send me an ask to join my taglist

[specialagentartemis]

Feel like dropping the rant about how "pre-written records = prehistory" is not a good way of conceptualizing history? It's not my area at all so I'm fascinated.

Hah absolutely

It’s a mix of semantics, and word connotations, and the way history gets presented, and tbh legacies of racism.

So. Part of it comes from the distinctions between the academic field and practice of history, and the academic field and practice of archaeology. The practice of history means analyzing the past through written texts and records; the practice of archaeology means analyzing the past through the material remains left behind. This is fine. It refers to the way you approach information about the past and what tools and theories you use to do so. I have no problem with this part!

Of course, it starts to get more complicated when you also have classicists (who study ancient Greek and Roman history primarily through texts but also incorporate some aspects of archaeology) and Assyriologists (ditto but for Mesopotamia), which have their roots in old-school European practices of formal education. There’s also historical archaeology, which is primarily archaeology but incorporates written records of the time and place for a fuller picture, or uses archaeology to complicate or fill gaps in the records. Historical archaeology is a practice that can be applied to any place and time with historical records, but primarily it refers to archaeology of the Americas post-European colonialism.

These refer to the ways we study the past. Where I start to disagree is when these terms get applied to the past itself.

Historians study history through written texts, so there is often a delineation where history = the presence of written texts, and prehistory = before that. And I have problems with that delineation of time.

For one thing, the connotations of the terms. History, in common use, is important, it’s everything that built the world we live in and led to where we are now. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. While prehistory conjures images of dinosaurs, or cavemen. It implies that the things that happened in it aren’t as important as the things that happened once history proper started. It also feels very, very old—it feels weird to call, say, the Inca empire prehistoric, when the Inca Empire is younger than Oxford University and the first Inca emperor was crowned in Peru after the Norman Invasion of England in 1066—something nobody calls prehistoric.

Because that brings up a more objective issue with splitting time into “history” and “prehistory”: writing was invented at different times in different places, and used to different extents. Writing was first invented in Mesopotamia in the Early Bronze Age, about 5,000 years ago. It was probably independently invented in Egypt shortly afterward, and was independently invented in China 3400 years ago, and in Central America about 2500 years ago. Writing spread across Asia, India, North Africa, Europe, and Mexico/Guatemala; it was not used in North America, South America, southern Africa, Australia, most parts of Polynesia, Micronesia, Australia, or New Zealand at all until European contact. According to the written records definition, this means history starts in very different times in these different places. Not only does this unbalance what we think of as “history” a lot, it ends up discounting or minimizing these people’s own ways of reckoning history, making their history start when Europeans arrived.

This is an incredibly dismissive way to consider whole continents’ worth of people and cultures! It turns them into a “people without history,” and implies that whatever they were doing before Europeans (or Chinese, Indians, or North Africans depending on the region, but mostly Europeans) doesn’t really matter to what happened since. If anything happened at all in that “time before history”; a common perspective of both early colonists and modern pop-history in places like the American West or Australia is that the people there have been living the exact same way for thousands of years, unchanging since the Stone Age. Only upon contact with Europeans did anything change and “history” start. This is hugely dismissive of these people’s autonomy and their past. (You’ll notice it’s a lot of people who suffer from racism who are denied the title of “history”!) It’s also just not true.

I’m an archaeologist who studies the US Southwest/Mexican Northwest region; I focus on Arizona and New Mexico in the 1000s–1400s AD. And one of the things that opened my mind so much in studying the US southwest was just how much things changed from decade to decade and century to century in the past, the same way they did anywhere else in history at this time. There was no written history in this part of the world, but what we do have is very precise tree-ring dates. Using tree rings, we can date when this or that building was built down to the precise year. And because it’s a desert, things preserve well for a long time, so we have lots of ancient tree-ring dates. Because of this, we can see how art styles, architectural styles, settlement patterns, family organization, farming practices, religion, politics, and cultural interactions changed over the past four thousand years. And we can see that they did change, and sometimes they changed slowly and sometimes they changed rapidly. People did things. They had new ideas, they formed new political organizations and adopted new religions, they came together and broke apart, they developed new art styles and new technologies, elite lineages controlled the social order until their power fractured, people moved into new places and adapted their old practices to what they found there, or developed new ones… and because of tree-rings and desert preservation, archaeologists can see it in ways we can’t in cooler and wetter environments. This is history. This is people doing things, shaping the physical and social landscape for the centuries that followed.

And of course, Pueblo and Diné and Apache and O’odham people of the Southwest have their own oral histories that overlap with these archaeological studies. This is true in many, many places that did not traditionally use writing. They can’t be discounted just because they weren’t written down.

So to me, history = writing and prehistory = before writing is a false dichotomy that’s unhelpful at best and racist at worst. To me, history starts when people become socially organized enough that they care about what happened before, what happened where, and why it’s important, and what it means. Every culture has history, whether they wrote it down or not. Studying it may not always be suited to the skillset of historians, but that doesn’t mean it’s not history.

[bellsluck]

☆ about me ☆

hii, i’m bells!

thought it was about time i made an introduction.

i’m 21, a capricorn sun, leo moon, cancer rising (astrology freak), my ethnicity is a little complicated but i’ll put it as half british and half portuguese. i can speak english and portuguese fluently and have a half-decent grasp of spanish. i’ve lived in the uk for most of my life. sexuality: no labels.

i’d say i’m new to tumblr as this is the first time in my life i’m actually using it regularly, i think I’ve got the hang of it now. i feel so at home on here and i love having new mutuals hehe. feel free to message about literally anything (save me from the “singles in your area looking for-” dms, i beg).

☆ interests ☆

i love writing and reading, fanfic, music and film, generally just immersing myself in other worlds tbh. kisses to pinterest, ao3 and wattpad. tumblr now too i guess.

seemingly never ending harry potter obsession. marauders era, hogwarts legacy era, etc. slytherin girly. i was part of hptok at its peak in like 2020/2021, my page was basically dedicated to it. it was so much fun.

also star wars, specifically the hayden christensen trilogy, but i love the ogs too and i thinkmy favourite spin-offs are the mandalorian and obi-wan kenobi. if i ever get married it will be at lake como, idc how many times it's been done. i was at one of the filming locations last summer (theed palace) and almost crying like a little biatch.

i like video games too (mostly play on switch), but i’m very picky when it comes to finding ones i actually like, then I will rack up hours on it like there's no tomorrow… we love hyperfixation over here. love love love stardew valley, animal crossing and games along those lines but atm i’ve been doing my rounds on the resident evil games (re2 og, re4 remake, re6, down bad for leon kennedy) and also hogwarts legacy, i’ve finished most of it, i just have to complete my field guide now (desperately want to replay for the sebastian quests, also the new mod stuff is so cool!).

music wise, i listen to lots of different stuff, constantly go through phases, but for my all timers, aka can quote their discography from start to finish, i’d probably say lana del rey, radiohead, the weeknd and nirvana. recently it’s been lots of david bowie, queen, beabadoobee, portishead, fleetwood mac, the beatles… i could go on.

always open to recommendations for songs, playlists, films, series, games, books, fanfics, or anything, i love it all.

☆ onto the topic of shifting... ☆

i am happy to announce i am free from the shackles of “shift-tok”. if yk, yk. 

i’ll take this as a chance to ask nicely for any antis to please, please, not interact from here on out. thank you.

so, i initially found out about shifting on hptok 2020 (huge surprise ik) and so obviously i wanted to go to hogwarts. like??

needless to say i got caught up in all the tiktok misinformation, blatant lies, complicated asf methods, self explanatory. sorry younger-me. i could explain more but all in all i was too impatient and clueless, didn't really know what i was doing at all, eventually got bored, busy with school, and assumed everyone was lying (a few were, it seems).

 i completely forgot about it all after that until i came across a shifting post on reddit a few weeks ago. my tiktok fyp started filling with shifting/manifestation videos too right after. i was coincidentally in between a rewatch of the harry potter films at this point too. you know where this is going. i started seeing tiktoks from smaller creators just answering people’s questions about shifting, and it was all so different from all the stuff i’d heard years ago, spoken about in a completely different way, which just made so much sense to me and was so intriguing. i decided to delve into it all once again. it was those same creators who also would mention tumblr, and i, who had just joined tumblr for writing related stuff not long ago, decided to start searching up things related to shifting.

 i eventually came across some great accounts and information, stories of experiences, motivation, help. i started reading “journeys out of the body” by robert monroe too, so interesting, btw, and have since began my own shifting/exploring consciousness journey (i try to be careful what words i use for things, for lots of reasons, and i understand everyone might use different terms, reminder that i haven’t been on here for that long). it’s been amazing so far. 

(i may have straight up searched shifting realities on google the other day. curiosity got the best of me. it was bad. don’t do it.)

to not mislead anyone, no, i haven’t actually had a full experience in my specific “dr” yet. however it’s only been a small amount of time and i’ve already had lots of different types of sensations and experiences that i’ve never had before and it’s all so beautiful and interesting to me. i definitely view things a lot differently than i did before. i have shiftblr to thank for it.

i adore finding new shifter blogs and reading everything on them, so if i’m giving stalker behaviour it just means i’m loving your stuff or you're all over my feed. 

idk what i’m even going to post about yet, if or when i do. maybe i’ll write a bit into my “journey” so far, any experiences or how and what i do to get into certain states, about my dr, or stuff i’m just nerdy about in general. 

fyi just because i write does not mean i will always use any grammatical skills at all when writing for blog. sorry ;)

if you ever have any questions i’ll love you forever i will answer as best as i can.

this wasn’t all that exciting but i just wanted a little intro because i’m always blank on my socials. 

 thanks for reading !!

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