#even now that she's older and there's a shift in the balance of power between them i just can't get behind it

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - The Art of Persuasion

Summary - A determined woman uses her strategic charm to win the favour of the powerful Prince Regent. She navigates a delicate dance of influence and intimacy, aiming to transform their fraught relationship into a potent alliance while exploring the limits of their mutual desire.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2119

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Aemond Targaryen, now ruling as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm due to his brothers grievous battle injuries, commands respect across the kingdom. Yet, he remains unmarried, a notable void in his life. 

As fate would have it, he needs a bride, and I am conveniently available.

I sat drumming my fingers against my teacup, the warm liquid causing the china to burn my fingertips. Lost in thought, I pondered the many ways I could persuade Aemond to marry me.

As the daughter of Jasper Wylde, spending time in the castle was not unusual for me; I practically grew up around Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. My familiarity with the royal siblings was a double-edged sword.

Unlike Aegon and Helaena, Aemond never particularly liked me. His demeanour was often egotistical and unbearable, a trait that only intensified after he claimed Vhagar. Our interactions became increasingly strained as we grew older, creating a chasm between us.

Despite this, I couldn't ignore the opportunity before me. Marrying Aemond would secure my position and grant me unique influence within the realm. The prospect was too significant to overlook, and I needed to find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between us.

Aemond's cold demeanour and prideful nature presented a challenge, but I was determined. I would need to appeal to his sense of duty and ambition, perhaps even find common ground in our shared history.

I placed my teacup down, stood up, and smoothed my dress. My eyes flicked to where Aemond sat, a scroll in hand, surrounded by councilmen who seemed to be walking on eggshells around him. His intense focus and commanding presence filled the room a reminder of the power he wielded.

Loosening the bracelet on my wrist, I walked toward him with confidence. Just as I reached him, I bumped his chair, stumbling slightly to let the delicate jewellery fall. 

The councilmen glanced at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but I paid them no mind.

I bent down, maintaining eye contact with Aemond. My cleavage was in clear view as I picked up the bracelet. 

"Apologies, your grace," I whispered, clasping the metal in my hand.

He looked into my eyes, then at my chest, his gaze lingering too long before he nodded, a grunt of dismissal escaping his lips. I straightened up and walked away without looking back.

This encounter, though brief, was a step forward. I had caught his attention, and now I needed to maintain it. Each moment with Aemond would be an opportunity to shift his perception of me, to transform from a mere childhood acquaintance into a potential partner worthy of standing by his side.

As I navigated the castle, I contemplated the next steps. I would need to weave a delicate balance of allure and respect, challenge and support. 

Aemond's pride and sense of duty could be the keys to unlocking his heart, and I was ready to use every tool at my disposal to secure a future where we ruled together.

Days passed, and I inserted my presence into Aemond's life like a bee to nectar. Everywhere he went, I was there, sometimes in the background, sometimes in the foreground, reestablishing my place in his world.

I knew his routines, his preferences, and his triggers. I made sure to be there, subtly influencing his thoughts and actions, drawing him closer to me.

At the moment, I sat in my chambers, a hot steaming bath drawn by the handmaidens. Suds of soap covered a few inches of my body, and the flowery scent of lavender filled the room. I sat with my eyes closed, head tilted back, legs outstretched, and arms resting on the lip of the bath.

My chamber doors swung open, and I masked the smile forming on my face. I cracked open my eyes, staring at Aemond across from me. His face was contorted with confusion.

"A servant told me you wished to speak with me," he said hesitantly.

I sighed, feigning frustration. "I had wanted to speak later, not this instance," I said, making it seem like the servant had erred in conveying their message.

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. "I have much more important matters to attend to than answering to your every beck and call," he said, taking a step forward. 

His pride was evident, but I could see a crack forming in his facade.

I sat up slightly in the water, my movements teasing and slow, placing both my arms on one side of the tub, water droplets dripping onto the stone floor. 

"You're right. I apologize, your grace," I said, standing up slowly. 

His one good eye widened slightly, his intense gaze roaming over my body, a look of lust and hunger masking his face. He was giving in, slowly but surely.

I exited the bathtub deliberately, the water droplets pooling on the floor around me. I walked towards my thin robe, donning it and tying the belt tightly against my body. 

The wet fabric clung to me like a second skin. I shook out my hair a little, taking a step towards him.

"I suppose now that I'm dressed, we can talk," I said. He blinked slowly, his stoic composure fading ever so slightly.

"What is it you wish to speak about?" he whispered as I took another step towards him, our bodies now only a couple of feet apart.

Aemond's pride was slowly crumbling, and I knew I had to strike the right balance to win his favour. My heart raced with the thrill of the challenge, and I was more determined than ever to make him see me as his equal, his partner, and his future queen.

"I've been observing the court," I began, my voice steady and confident. 

"I noticed there's a growing discontent among some of the lords about the way certain territories are being managed, especially in the Riverlands. Their dissatisfaction could lead to unrest if not addressed properly."

Aemond's eye narrowed, his interest piqued. "And what do you suggest?"

"The lords need to feel heard and valued. We should send envoys to engage with them directly, listen to their grievances and offer tangible solutions. It's not just about imposing royal decrees, it's about showing that we care for the well-being of all our subjects."

He nodded slowly, clearly impressed by my insight. "That's a sound strategy."

I took a step closer, the scent of lavender still clinging to me. "Someone on your council needs to have their ear to the ground, someone who understands the subtle intricacies of court politics and the needs of the realm. Someone like me."

Aemond's gaze intensified, his admiration for my knowledge and strategic mind apparent. "You believe you can fulfil that role?"

"I know I can. I've grown up in this castle, observing and learning. I understand the dynamics at play and the motivations of the lords and ladies. I can be your ally, your advisor, and much more. Having someone like me by your side would not only strengthen your rule but also ensure a more stable and prosperous realm."

He studied me for a long moment, his pride and pragmatism warring within him. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice softer, almost reluctant. "You make a compelling case. Perhaps I have underestimated you."

I smiled, the triumph tempered with genuine warmth. "I am here to serve, your grace."

With those words, I took a final step towards him, our chests practically touching now. I looked up at him, grabbing his hand and guiding it to the belt of my robe. Slowly, I made him untie it, shaking the material off. 

He glanced down, following the droplets of water still running down my body. I maintained eye contact, watching for any signs of resignation before undoing his belt and slowly removing his clothes.

His breathing grew heavier, his body betraying the stoic facade he tried to maintain. I grasped his arm once more, walking backwards until the back of my legs hit my bed. 

"Perhaps, your grace could use a moment of pleasure, a brief respite" I whispered, guiding him onto the bed and straddling him, my hips rocking back and forth against his crotch.

"Perhaps," he said, sounding almost bored, but his body said otherwise. 

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, his lips finally breaking into a smirk that spoke of both desire and amusement.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear. "You carry a heavy burden. Let me share it with you. Let me be the one who stands by your side, in both the council chamber and in moments like this."

He let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening. "You are quite persuasive," he murmured, his voice thick with restrained passion.

"I aim to please," I replied, my voice equally hushed. "And I can offer so much more than just pleasure. I can offer loyalty, intelligence, and an unwavering commitment."

Aemond's eyes flickered with something more profound than mere lust. It was a mixture of intrigue, respect, and a reluctant recognition of my potential. 

"Show me, then," he said, his voice a challenge.

I accepted that challenge with a smile, leaning in to kiss him, a kiss that was both a promise and a declaration. Our lips met, and the connection between us deepened, the boundaries of power and passion blurring.

My lips trailed down his neck, each kiss deliberate, my wet hair tickling his skin as I made my way down his body. His breathing grew heavier with each touch, his composure slipping. 

When I reached his hardened cock, I swiped my tongue across the tip before licking down his length slowly, savouring the taste of him.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, halting my movements. "Don't tease," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

I smiled up at him, nodding. "As you wish, your grace."

I positioned myself on top of him, taking him in one smooth, deliberate motion. Aemond's groan of satisfaction was immediate, his hands gripping my waist tightly as I began to move. 

The sensation was intoxicating, I rode him with a precise rhythm, every movement deliberate and controlled.

My hips moved in a steady, practised motion, angling myself just right to maximize the pleasure. I could feel his body reacting to each shift, each twist, and I adjusted my movements to keep him on edge. 

The intensity of his groans and the way his hands gripped my hips told me I was hitting every mark perfectly.

"You're doing well," he murmured, his voice laced with approval. 

His hands roamed my body, caressing my curves, and exploring every inch of me. I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his chest, my breath mingling with his.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling with both effort and delight. "I'm going to be everything you need, everything you want."

Aemond's gaze was fixed on me, his eyes dark with lust and admiration. "You might just be," he admitted, his tone softening.

I quickened my pace, our bodies moving together in a perfect dance of desire. My movements were fluid and confident, each thrust and grind calculated to drive him wild. I felt every pulse, every tremor of pleasure as I adjusted my angle, finding new ways to make our connection even more intense.

The room was filled with the sounds of our passion, his groans, my soft sighs, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. We were both nearing the edge, and I felt the mounting tension in every fibre of my being. With each shift in rhythm, I pushed us closer to that precipice of climax.

As our movements became more urgent, Aemond's grip on my hips tightened. "You feel amazing," he gasped, his voice breaking with the strain of his mounting pleasure

I adjusted my angle slightly, aiming to increase the intensity. "Let go," I urged softly, my voice a seductive murmur against his ear. "Feel everything."

Aemond's eyes fluttered shut, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I continued to ride him with a relentless rhythm, pushing both of us to the brink. With a final, perfect thrust, Aemond's body tensed beneath me, his release spilling over in a series of deep, shuddering groans. 

"Yes, yes," he moaned, the intensity of his climax overwhelming.

His pleasure triggered my own, a wave of euphoria crashing over me as I reached my peak. I gasped, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. I cried out, the sound mingling with my breathless cries.

We both rode the wave of our climaxes together, our bodies entwined in a final, ecstatic embrace. As the intensity faded, I collapsed onto him, my breathing heavy and satisfied.

Aemond's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. His voice was hushed but filled with a mixture of admiration and wonder. 

"You've truly proven yourself," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "In every way."

A/n -  turns out being persuasive can be quite the workout, who knew diplomacy had so many... physical benefits

[criticallyinneedofadar]

The Weight of the Weary

A/N: Gil-Gadaddy was calling my name. Alliance of Shadows is still on it's way! I just needed to appease the high king a little bit.

Pairing: Gil- Galad X Reader

Warnings: None

______________________________________________________________

Lindon shines brightest in the evening sun, the tree casting the city in its warm glow, its warm light spills into your private chambers where you and Gil-Galad sit together, savoring a rare moment of peace. He’s quiet, his posture stiff, and you can see the weight of his duties pressing down on him, even in this brief respite.

You watch him for a moment, studying the lines of tension etched into his brow. His mind is far away, no doubt torn between Elrond and Galadriel—two of the most important figures in his life, and two of the most stubborn. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you think of Galadriel, so full of fire and willfulness, almost like a daughter to you both, despite being much older than you both. You glance at Gil-galad, raising a playful eyebrow.

“You were a bit harsh on her today, you know,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Galadriel might act tough, but even she has her limits.”

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly anticipating your teasing admonishment. His lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s tempered by weariness. “I was not harsh, merely... firm,” he replies, though there’s a trace of doubt in his voice. “She needed to be reminded of her place.”

You chuckle softly. “She’s not a child, love. You can’t keep her reined in forever. Besides, she’s as much your family as I am. You don’t have to keep your guard up with her all the time.”

He leans back, his expression shifting from playful to weary, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if to release some of the strain. “I feel stretched between them—between Elrond’s endless optimism and Galadriel’s relentless determination. It is like trying to balance two storms, each one pulling me in a different direction.”

You place a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “They both want what’s best, but they are different in how they go about it. They look to you because they trust your wisdom, your strength.” You pause, softening your tone. “But sometimes, I think you try too hard to keep them happy, to keep everyone in line.”

He sighs deeply, the sound of someone who has carried far too much for far too long. “I must. I am their king, their leader. If I falter, if I show weakness—”

“You’re not weak,” you interrupt gently, moving closer to him. “But you don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”

Gil-Galad looks at you, his deep eyes searching your face, as if he’s unsure how to accept that offer. He’s always been proud, always the one to shoulder the burdens of his people, his friends, and now you can see how that weight has begun to wear him down. Your heart aches for him, for the man who bears so much responsibility yet so rarely lets anyone see his vulnerability.

“You’re not alone in this,” you murmur, taking his hand in yours. “Let me help you, even if it’s just in moments like this. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as he looks at you with a tenderness that’s usually hidden behind the mantle of kingship. “I forget, sometimes, that I don’t have to. With you, I never have to.”

You smile softly, leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breath, brings you a sense of peace you know he needs as much as you do.

“You’ve carried so much on your shoulders for so long,” you whisper. “Let me take some of the burden, if even for a little while. You’re my husband first and a king second. Lean on me as much as you lean on them.”

For a moment, the world outside fades away. There are no councils, no pressing decisions, no wars or power struggles. It’s just the two of you, bound together by love and trust. His hand rests against the small of your back as he pulls you closer, his voice low and filled with a gratitude that touches your heart.

“You are my greatest strength,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “With you beside me, I know I can bear whatever comes.”

You lift your head, gazing into his eyes. “And you will,” you reply, your voice full of conviction. “But not alone.”

He smiles then, a real smile that reaches his eyes, and you feel the tension begin to ease from his body as he leans into the comfort of your embrace. You urge him to sit down in front of you. As he does, you begin to brush through his long brown hair, a hum of contentment leaving your husband as he relaxes into your pampering. Allowing this moment of relief, however brief it may be.

[pedgito]

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[quinloki]

Preceding Story: Young Lady

Character: Silvers Rayleigh Reader: fem Vibes: Dubious Word count: 1,067

Rayleigh regards the limp, naked form of the assassin in his bed for a few long moments, certain that she’s unconscious and not dead. Lifting the small form easily he carries her to the bathroom and begins to clean her up.

The shivering pleasure, the sweet moans, the powerful orgasms he had pulled from her during the hours leading up to this replayed in his mind as he worked. Sent to him by someone who was probably expecting Silvers to end her, she had been convinced that he was simply an escaped slave.

She knew better by now, for sure.

Slipping into the bath with her, he makes sure to clean everything, using a wash cloth on her face and carefully rinsing things away. It wouldn’t do to go through the trouble of keeping her alive just to accidentally drown her while she was unconscious.

Her stamina was commendable. Aside from Shakky there weren’t very many people who could keep pace with him, even in his older years. Roger would’ve been able to, easily, but his old captain was a monster among monsters. It was Rayleigh who would’ve found himself scrambling to match his captain’s pace.

After getting you cleaned up, Rayleigh carefully dries you off and sets about patching up your wounds. They’re nothing more that a few bruises and some raw spots - despite his skill you weren’t exactly weak. It’s a good thing that the first time he bested you it was soundly enough to shake your resolve. Things could’ve gone much differently if you had been more determined.

Your heart, however, wasn’t aligned with your line of work. Another reason he had gone the route he’d gone. Especially once you acquiesced.

Well, as much as you could, given the situation.

Pulling the soiled bedding off, he sets down a comforter and then lays you on top of that. Using the rest of the bandages, he ties you down to the bed, spread eagle with just a little bit of wiggle room.

“I think you’ve been ill-informed, young lady.” Rayleigh had said, your wrist tight in his hand. Anger was on your face, but the color drained out of it so fast at his next words that he’d worried you were going to pass out. “I’m Silvers Rayleigh, the dark king.”

“… no, I -.”

“Yes, I assure you.” He’d laughed, your disbelief had been almost cute.

“No! I just - just… Let, let me go. I’ll - you’ll never see me again, I swear!”

“You came here to take my life.” Pulling you close he could see the will to fight had left you. “Why should I let you leave without balancing that desire out?”

“Anything,” you murmured, eyes wide and full of all the terrible stories he was sure existed about The Dark King Rayleigh. “I’ll give you anything, just please, don’t kill me.”

He’d let his gaze shift over your body. “Anything?” He looked back at you. “That’s a dangerous offer, young lady, are you certain?”

Nodding, your face flush. “Don’t… don’t kill me, and you can do… anything you want.”

And so he had. For hours he’d done all he wanted to do. You made pleasing sounds, you squirmed and trembled in delightful ways. It was fair recompense, and despite some misgivings, you’d agreed. Rayleigh wasn’t going to worry about the details with someone in your line of work.

Pulling a chair over to the bed, he sat down comfortably, and began to read. He rested a bit, and let you sleep, and when you’d started moaning in your sleep, muttering his name in the sweet, tremulous voice, he put his book in one hand, and put the other hand between your thighs.

The shivering sounds of your dreams broke into something more real as his calloused fingers idly teased your clit. Half of his attention is still on the book in his other hand as your dream and reality begin to mix. Pleasure rushes through you, making you moan deeply.

The vision of Rayleigh between your thighs shifts into the undeniable warmth of his fingers against your skin.

“Wha-?” Your brain stutters as the phantom Rayleigh of your dreams vanishes from sight, and the very real pleasure of his fingers floods your senses. “F— fuck!” Your limbs curl, but the bandages hold your body open as you twist uselessly.

“C-cum, I’m going to…!!” Your body tenses as you orgasm hard against his fingers, the sudden rush locking all sound and breath in place for a couple seconds before you finally start to come down.

Unlike earlier, when he’d seemed intent to shatter your soul with pleasure, the older man pulls his fingers away from your shivering body. You’re only vaguely aware of him licking his fingers clean, eyes still focused on the book he’s reading as you tug against the cloth bandages holding you in place. Coming to your senses, from your rest and your orgasm you realize that your body has been cleaned and tended to.

“What were you dreaming about, young lady, that you cried my name so sweetly in your sleep?” His question seems idle and relaxed, but you can feel it caress your hips as though he was touching you himself.

Your legs try to close just from his words and you whimper as you realize you can’t cover yourself. It’s not a distraught sound, but one desperate for more - and desperate for escape. Lying will do you no good, and you want to know.

Dreams?

Or reality?

“I… I was dreaming that,” you lick your lips, swallowing thickly. “Your face was between my thighs.”

Rayleigh turns a page in his book. “How fortunate it is that there is ample room between your thighs right now, young lady.”

By the time he closes the book, you’re already shivering. Anticipation has you half mad with desire, and he’d already proven he knew more ways to elicit pleasure from you than you knew possible. Warm finger on your leg, as the bed dips from his weight, sending a jolt through your muscles.

There was no escape. There never had been. He may consume you entirely, leaving nothing left of you to be worried about the future. By his desire any sunrise could be your last. Pleasure alone ushering you sweetly to an endless rest.

Whether you died tonight, or lived forever didn’t matter. There was only one thing left for you.

“Please.”

[myersgirlxxx]

Shadows of the occult 05. The Abyss

Wednesday x fem reader

summary: In the shadowy halls of Nevermore Academy, you navigate the delicate balance between reality and the Other Side. As an occultist with a powerful yet unstable connection to the elements, you learn that the Other Side does not come easily. it demands secrets and sacrifices. Caught in the gaze of the enigmatic Wednesday Addams, you must confront the darkness within before it consumes you.

Warnings: Dark themes, mental health, supernatural elements, intense relationships and mature content.

The aftermath of the blood zombie left the air heavy, the veil between worlds thinner than it had been in ages. Your body ached, still reeling from the encounter, but there was no time to rest. The Other Side was calling again, more insistent now, the pull unmistakable.

“You’re hiding something,” Wednesday’s voice cut through the fog, her dark eyes locked onto yours, suspicion and intrigue warring in her gaze. “And I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You swallowed, the weight of her words heavy, but something else was tugging at your senses—something far older and more dangerous than Wednesday’s curiosity. The Other Side wasn’t just pulling you in; it was demanding attention.

Agatha, who had been lurking in the shadows, stepped forward, her eyes glinting with knowing. “It’s time,” she said, her voice low and steady. "We can’t keep pushing this off."

You felt the truth of her words sinking into your bones. The dreams, the fog, the blood zombie—everything was connected. And if you didn’t answer the call, the balance between worlds would slip even further out of control.

You glanced back at Wednesday, who had gone unnervingly silent, watching with a level of intensity that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want her involved, not yet. But there was no stopping her. She had already seen too much.

With a reluctant nod, you turned to Agatha. “Let’s do it.”

Back in your shared room, the energy was palpable. Agatha moved with purpose, dragging the furniture to the sides of the room, clearing the center for what was about to happen. You followed her lead, though your gaze kept darting toward the door, half-expecting Wednesday to barge in at any moment.

Agatha knelt on the floor, pulling out a small, worn leather book from her bag—a grimoire filled with ancient knowledge passed down through generations of occultists. With precision, she began tracing familiar symbols onto the floor with black chalk, her hands steady and deliberate. These weren’t just random markings—they were ancient sigils, imbued with the power to tether you to the Other Side.

You knelt beside her, your heart pounding. “Are you sure we’re ready for this?”

Agatha’s eyes flicked to yours, sharp and unyielding. “We don’t have a choice. The balance is shifting, and if we don’t intervene now, there won’t be a world left to protect.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. You’d transcended before, but this felt different—more dangerous. The stakes had never been higher.

Once the symbols were complete, Agatha stood and lit a series of black candles, placing them at key points around the room. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the walls, barely reaching the dark corners of the room.

“Once we begin, there’s no turning back,” Agatha warned. “We transcend, or we get pulled in.”

You positioned yourself in the center of the sigil, your heart racing as the energy in the room grew heavier, almost oppressive. The Other Side was close now, closer than it had ever been.

Agatha began chanting in a language long forgotten by most, her voice low and melodic, each word resonating with power. You closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you, feeling the pull deep within your core. The ground beneath you seemed to hum, vibrating with the energy of the ritual.

Then, suddenly, it happened. The room shifted around you, reality bending as the air grew impossibly thick. You could feel your body transcending, being pulled into the space between worlds. Symbols began to appear on your skin—glowing, ancient runes that seemed to pulse with life. They crawled up your arms, across your chest, and around your neck. Your eyes burned as a thick, black liquid oozed from the corners, running down your cheeks like tears of ink. Dark, twisted bands of shadow coiled around your face, marking you as a vessel of the Other Side.

Agatha stood beside you, similarly marked, her face a grim reflection of your own. “Stay focused,” she muttered. “Don’t let it take you.”

But just as the ritual reached its peak, you felt something shift—a presence, dark and ancient, pushing against the boundaries of the Other Side. It wasn’t just a pull anymore; it was a force, demanding entry into your world.

You staggered, the energy too much to contain. “It’s stronger than before,” you gasped, struggling to hold on.

Agatha’s expression darkened. “We need to hold the line!”

The ritual’s intensity had pushed you to your limit, and as you lay unconscious, Agatha could feel the thin thread of connection holding you to this world. The Other Side had pulled harder than it ever had before, and now, it wasn’t just you at risk—it was reality itself.

[ask-dawnanddusk]

The Crescent Sun and Shining Moon

“Two formed in heaven's way, one, night; the other, day.”

~

Now, the tale of the two sisters starts, not in this realm, but in one completely different to ours! In this world, many beasts of different and alien shapes live, and it is here where I must tell you of before I tell you of the sisters.

In this realm lived two groups of powerful creatures who I'm sure you're familiar with; The Solgaleo of the Sun and Lunala of the Moon. However, unlike their counterparts in other realms, these two groups despised each other. They fought and argued, and believed the light of their others were false ones.

While conflicts of this nature are not without precedent even within the legendary circle, there was one thing that drove this conflict onward; a creature existed that could steal the powers from one of these two species and take on a form similar to the one it had drained. It would then use its off appearance and ill-gotten powers to sow further discord between the two groups.

But not all believed the false sightings, and some, not many, but enough, believed in the balance that they were meant to uphold. And it was two of these like-minded beings who came together and, through their union, created the two sisters.

The two loved each other dearly, and cared for their daughters with all their heart, however it was not meant to be. For on the day where the moon eclipsed the sun, they were found out and killed for their treason. But while they perished, in their last act of defiance, they sent their children through a portal to the furthest realm they could reach, in a desperate bid for them to live.

And so they fell and fell and fell, past millions of different dimensions, until they landed right into the waiting claws of our beloved Star Mother, Maksviah.

—

She had sensed a strange portal was going to open and had arrived there just in time to watch them exit. They were tiny back then, much smaller then any normal Cosmog, and they were injured too. The attack had, despite the best efforts of their parents, not left them unscathed.

They were tiny and alone and so injured they would surely perish without any guardian to watch over them.

So, Maksviah resolved to raise them herself.

Taking them back to her icy home, she stayed within her mountain cave for many months, carefully feeding the sisters food meshed with her own stardust and bathing them regularly in healing light until, finally, they were no longer at risk of perishing.

But for all her power and experience with children, Maksviah was still a creature of stars, and knew she would need help in raising the two. So she called on two of her very close friends, creatures of the ever-shifting sky just as the Lunala and Solgaleo are. I'm sure you'll be able to guess who instantly!

Truly, calling upon Dawn and Dusk was the best choice she could have made. The two helped the sisters in a way Maksviah couldn't, as their powers more closely aligned to those that the sisters would soon grow to have. The youngest took a liking to Dawn and his powers of day while the eldest found herself following behind Dusk and his powers of night.

They lived in peace for many years, however, as the sisters' powers grew, so did a connection to their birth dimension. And it was this connection that allowed these celestial beasts to find them.

The sisters were viciously attacked by multiple Lunala and Solgaleo, and with the two groups of pokemon arriving so close after the other, it soon turned into a larger conflict. These battles were not uncommon to the two groups, and stained the white snow more and more red the longer it raged on.

But this time there was an interruption in this long and bloody war.

Maksviah, descending on wings of flame in her more older, primal form, tore through the two groups mercilessly. She batted away any who would attack her and unleashed her wrath upon those who dare harm her daughters.

At the sight of the foreign and fierce opponent, the two groups fled through their portals, back to the dimension they came from. And through this battle did the sisters come to a unanimous conclusion.

Carefully, the sisters approached Maksviah and said, “Mother, mother, please listen. We love you so, we truly do, however they are also our family just as you are. You showed us Kindness and Balance, and we wish to share that with them too, but we are too small and our bodies too weak. Please train us in body and mind so that we may end the conflict between our people.”

Maksviah heard the sisters and saw their words to be True, and she could not be more proud of them for it. So she took the two sisters and, with the aid of Dawn and Dusk, began to teach them one of two ways; Night for the  eldest and Day for the youngest.

It took many months of hard training and battles, but eventually the two sisters evolved as they had been torn; during a solar eclipse. And perhaps it was a mix of this celestial event and of ancient magic which resulted in their miraculous evolution.

The eldest, Kou, took on the form of a Solgaleo of the Moon.

The youngest, Paike, took on the form of a Lunala of Sun.

And it was so, with this evolution and one final goodbye, the sisters rushed forward and dove into the ultra space.

—

The sisters were quick to find out that, whilst the conflict between sun and moon was old indeed, something was provoking the two groups into further clashes in a most unnatural manner.

During their investigations they learned that when those off appearances occurred, a weak and ill Solgaleo or Lunala would soon appear afterwards. It was further prodding of the non-celestial locals and timid folk of the realm that revealed it seemed to go after those who wandered off alone. It left them with no memories of their encounter. Most often the two groups would explain this sudden illness on their opposition.

So, the sisters devised a simple but effective plan; Paike, with her radiant form, would draw the creature's attention while Kou hid in the shadows, and when the creature went to strike she would pounce.

The plan was easier to execute than expected, as the unique form of the sun sister drew its attention like a moth to flame.

When they finally got a good look at their opponent, the sisters were shocked.

There before them lie a creature so obviously empty and torn it pained them to look at. Its jagged edges were sharp and piercing, and its bony body had no colour to be found on it other than the dull shades of black to white. It thrashed wildly beneath Kou’s giant form, and she struggled to keep a hold of it.

Carefully, hesitantly, Paike began to weave it a song, which Kou soon joined in on. They sang of sun and moon, of balance and warmth, of light and dark and all things kind. They sang of the hearth fire, their Mother, and they sang of the lovers, their Uncles. And all the creature could do in response was sigh and listen with a deep longing in its heart.

“Alas, what you have shown me is terribly lovely,” it began “and holds all the things I could only ever yearn for, but I am the product of discord and violence. With my heart shattered I am unable to swerve from my dark fate, with my only imperatives to CONSUME and DRAIN and TAKE without the option of Giving in turn. I wish it was otherwise, but it is not. Only if by some miracle I was to return to my true state, but it is not. Thus I will forever be chained to this wretched existence.”

The two sisters heard the creature and saw its words to be True, and they could not be more saddened. So, carefully, they took a bit of their own powers and, to the shock of the creature, placed it within its darkened shell.

With the light of sun and moon combined, sparked by old magics taught to them by their dear Mother, the creature's dark form softened in a way, and while its dark coloration remained, its face lit up with the colors of the rainbow.

Carefully, Kou stepped off it, and it rose up once again, this time calm and quiet, almost bashful and shy.

“You gave me a priceless gift today. You sang to me in comfort and restored my sanity, and I will repay this kindness in turn. I am Necrozma, former Giver of Light, and I swear I will aid you in your quest to heal your people. Whilst my form is the result of their conflict, it was wrong of me to antagonize them further. Perhaps if I hadn't they would have become peaceful on their own…”

“Oh, please do not speak that way.” Kou crooned gently, bumping her head against Necrozma in comfort, “Whilst you may have provoked the conflict, they did harm you in the first place and cause you to shatter.”

“And we have little idea if they truly would have stopped fighting.” Paike pointed out, “You had no choice in the matter. They did. All we can do now is make this right.”

—

Now, the three couldn't just waltz up at any moment to the two groups, they needed to time their appearance at the moment when they would be most impactful.

Was doing it right before a massive battle the most impactful decision? Yes. Was it the most intelligent of decisions? Well… 

The sudden appearance of the sisters and their shattered friend shocked the groups, and at the site of their overwhelming power they quickly fled the battle ground.

It seems the sisters' appearance had shaken the two groups. A Solgaleo of moon and Lunala of sun? It was something unheard of until Kou and Paike revealed themselves.

And that shattered creature… was it a representation of the shattered bonds between sun and moon?

After all, why did they fight? Based on some belief that one was true while the other was not?

Well then, what did that make the two creatures they saw?

…Something needed to change.

Thus two small groups formed, one of sun and one of moon. These groups consisted of the ones who would set out to find the two themselves to see the Truth. And this time, when they ran into each other, they did not fight as they had done in the past, but instead an uneasy alliance was formed. It was a small thing, weak and wavering and barely there, but it was made. And that growing unity was what allowed them to find the sisters.

The two leaders of the groups approached carefully, gazing at the sisters in thinly veiled awe for a moment before, surprisingly, they turned to bow before Necrozma and revealed a hidden shard they had each been carrying with them. 

The shards were as black as the body of the fallen light. 

They apologize profusely, explaining that they had realized who Necrozma truly was and recognized the shattered form in the shard pieces their tribe leaders had hidden away.

They did not know the full truth of why they fought, and they were still ignorant to the many beauties of their counterpart, but they were willing to try.

And it was this willingness to change and grow that reignited the shattered ones light and ushered in a new era of peace.

~

"Follow moon or sun? Silly child, are they not one?"

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I am absolutely stuck on the dynamic between Brighid, Arthur, Alfred, and Jack rn. They're both Arthur's sons, but Jack was hers to raise first and she contributed to Alfred's upbringing too, and they may as well be hers with all the people they're getting from her, and that's happening because of Arthur's policies. And Arthur, for his part, parents them based on vague memories of his mother - but you've said a lot of those are actually Brighid.

Point of all that being, would you mind expanding on the early part of Arthur and Brighid's relationship, before he became a colonizing shithead? What are these memories with her that he's attributing to their mother? How did that relationship influence his parenting (both the things that he's aware were Brighid and the things that he thinks were mum but were actually Brighid?)

Okay so just to preface this so no one starts reading this like they do my more modern things where I can usually have a basis in fairly accepted and confirmable fact, we’re going so far back that not only is this not chronologically accurate, its only archaeologically plausible. This is the literary version of saying, "it's for ceremonial purposes” on the label of an artefact anyone with courage would call a prehistoric bong. There’s a big trend for “History of X in 100 Objects” right now. In my personal collection is a 'History of Ireland in 100 objects.' I’m not saying this is accurate or realistic. However, it is based on historical themes that lend themselves to what is ultimately a historical fantasy as plausible as I can write it. That said, let's crack this can of fuckery.

So, to start out, this is all pre-1066, which is when, after the Norman invasions of England, Wales, and and Southern Scotland, the history of the British in Ireland begins. Before that, we’re talking about a world where Irish raiders are a menace on the Welsh coast, and the Dál Riada is the result of an Irish migration, where the peoples on the Irish Coast brought Gaelic culture and eventually merged with and overtook the Pictish culture already occupying the area. The balance of power is very different in this world. This is not the 18th and 19th century when Brighid is firmly under the heel of a British jackboot and even when the British government was willing to concede slightly on empire, the British army nearly revolted when it was even considered to maybe, perhaps, rein in unionist violence in nineteen-fourteen just months shy of WW1. Winston Churchill was also behind that, in case you need more reasons why he's an allmighty cunt.

I give them all Celtic roots. Brighid is probably 300-500 years older than Alasdair, and then political solidification in Wales brought Rhys along and then Arthur as the reorganization of Celtic Britons in Roman Britain. This might be a hot take, but while the Anglo-Saxon ‘invasion’ in the 400s-500s brought Germanic rule and language to England, the Cumbrians and other Celts were not wiped out. Mostly it's a cultural shift. So he’s born as much a Celt as his siblings and experiences dramatic changes earlier in his life than they do. However, if you get to the root of English culture under all of the bullshit of empire and all the German royalty who built up their legitimacy by reviving Anglo-Saxon memory, history has more Celtic elements than someone might think.

In Northern England, Southern Scotland, Eastern Ireland, and the maritime fringes of Wales, there was an Iron Age tribe by the name of the Brigantes, whose name was taken from the northern goddess Brigantia, which means either ‘the exalted’ or ‘highlanders.’ Either way works for me because it is the root word of Brighid’s name, the Welsh word for prestige, honour, dignity and power, all things connected to fire, power and elevation. As all modern knowledge of her comes from 8 inscriptions and some statuary material, and her name is so goddamn appropriate, I’m running with it. It’s so close to Brittania. According to Strabo, writing about a now-lost account of a Greek sailor and explorer Pytheas, it comes from a feminine name likely from the Celts itself.

In the tradition of Catholic patron saints of specific places, Brigantia seems to have been a goddess associated with lakes, rivers, and coastlines. Saint Brighid, from the same name base, is the patron saint of Ireland, bastard children, babies, children, midwives, sailors and poets. Me, hitting a bong in 2021; yeah, that sounds like mother and daughter to me. Eirian, whose name is a version of the Welsh name for King Arthur’s mother because I’m ✨original✨ ruled her own kingdom directly. She was a queen regnant in a culture that saw that crop up often. She was a product of the Iron Age, a warrior culture where swords and a hierarchy of militancy ruled society. Brighid was her firstborn child, and very much her mother’s daughter, sharing that long, beautiful hibernian gold (think rose gold) hair down to her waist. She was tall and gorgeous, with a head for politics as well as martial talent, but Eirian was as much a goddess of the hearth as the sea and war; she still took her tributes in blood, and treasure. She ruled directly with iron and faith.

Brighid, however, while just as capable of that, had a personality that found early Christianity very appealing. It’s hard for us to imagine now, but 1,500-2,000 years ago, Christianity was, in many ways, a much gentler religion than some flavours of what we now call paganism. And while just as capable at every aspect of ruling as her mother, I do think Brighid has aspects to her personality that were kinder, a bit softer. She was an artist in the scriptoriums, a weaver, all these things in her golden age. And she was grown, or near it, by the time Arthur came along. And the gentlest things he remembers about his mother are usually Brighid. An image of a woman weaving, red hair pouring down her back as her fingers fly over the shuttle and her feet work the treadles. That is Brighid. Another of a woman’s elegant and quick fingers on the spindle, fitting the handle into a clumsy child’s hands, laughing when he gets frustrated. Also Brighid. Picking him up and giving him a raspberry even when he kicks to be let down because he wants to run everywhere, is also Brighid. Teaching him to put his knife into the kidney because he’s young, and that's the highest he can reach? That’s his mother. The two images, his powerful mother and his bright sister swirl together when Arthur gets into a strange mood.

He'll yammer away in Cumbrian and hum the tune of the songs who's words he cant remember. When she died in the 5th or 6th century, they scattered as their various regions expanded and solidified linguistically as Common Bythronic became Welsh, Gaelic, and Cumbrian (Scotland’s native Celtic language is actually extinct, replaced by Irish Gaelic in late antiquity.) England imploded under the pressure of the Germanic migrations, so I picture Arthur kind of wandering through his numerous kingdoms most of the year. Brighid may have, too. It was common for high-status people to go on progress and stay with the nobility from time to time in various European societies. However, I can also see her with her own mini-kingdom inside the Gaelic system of ranking kings, over kings and high kings. Arthur would usually spend the winter with one of his siblings. Usually Rhys, but he would have been welcome with Brighid for a long time, even as the wee cuckoo, half-German bastard that he was. He may have even lived with her for long periods. But once, she was power, and once she loved him and once he wasn't the cause of all the horror of her years. It was a different world before the Vikings came.

[lockes-woods]

Stuck Chapter 6

“So, it wasn’t a sex thing, but sex isn’t off the table?” Sanji asked Himiko as they make their way back to her apartment to meet up with Vivi and Nami. They had just finished their opening shift at the café.

“I guess; that part wasn’t super clear. Mihawk made it clear that if we were to have sex that it wouldn’t affect any of their payments to me. So, it wouldn’t cause the payment to stop, increase or decrease.” Himiko said as they paid their fare and waited for the train back to her downtown apartment.

“What did Shanks say?” he asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently.

“Um, he said that it was pointless for them not to admit that they find me attractive. And that sex would only happen if I wanted it.” she replied shyly.

“So, Shanks was up front with it, but Mihawk was more round about with it.” Sanji asked.

“I guess so? Mihawk did not confirm or deny whether or not he found me attractive or if he wanted to sleep with me.” Himiko answered as they entered the packed subway car. Himiko and him found a spot to stand in the corner. She quickly grabbed a strap before the train jerked into motion. She envied Sanji’s ability to keep balanced and hold a drink carrier with three full hot drinks without spilling a drop. She was struggling to keep her tote bag on her shoulder and hold her iced latte at the same time.

 “Just because he didn’t explicitly say it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be with you.” He pointed out as he relaxed into his stance.

 “I guess; If I’m being honest, I still can’t believe they are willing to pay that much money to hang out with me when one of them is busy.” Himiko said.

 “Would you also have to hang out with them when they’re together?" he asked.

 “I don’t know; I was kinda blind sided by the proposition as a whole to ask any follow up questions.” Himiko started, “It kinda all just sound too good to be true.”

 “I don’t know, I’m not saying you should throw caution into the wind and go for it,but this may be a once in a lifetime opportunity to get your degree. I’d drop everything if I got a chance to like that.” Sanji said honestly. “If you don’t go for it, I might have to throw my hat into the ring,” He joked. She just rolled her eyes at him as they made their way up the three flights of steps to her place.

“It’s not like I’m completely ruling it out I just need to talk out my options before I agree to this kind of arrangement.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t really think of any downsides to an arrangement like this. It’s not even like they’re creepy old men. They’re both super hot.”

 “How do you know Shank’s hot?” Himiko laughed as she fished out her keys.

 “Oh, I’ve been cyber stalking them since Thursday night.”

 “Really?” Himiko asked as she opened the door.

 “What? If my besties entering into a sugar daddy situation, I want to know all the facts first. Also, it’s partially his fault for having a public Instagram.” Sanji said, defending himself.

 “Is this even considered a sugar daddy situation?” she asked as they made their way into the apartment.

 “Oh, it’s totally a sugar daddy situation.” Nami called out from the kitchen.

 “I thought you had to be having sex for it to be labeled that.” Himiko asked confused.

 “Sugar daddy refers to a relationship between older men and younger women where gifts are exchanged for company or sex,” Vivi answered, reading off of her phone.

 “You just had that at the ready?” Himiko laughed while the four of them made their way into the living room.

 “You say that like she doesn’t have a whole ass power point prepared.” Nami said with a smile.

 “There’s a power point?” Himiko asked confused.

 “I mean yeah. When Nami asked me to look into them I took it seriously.” Vivi said slightly embarrassed.

 “Why’d she asks you to look into them?” Sanji asked. Himiko was equally confused until she remembered-

 “Because her major is in homeland security.” Himiko answered now feeling dumb.

 “Oh, I always thought you were majoring in cyber security.” He said, handing Vivi her drink.

 “That was my major until I found out that they offered a homeland security major; I’m now minoring in cyber security.” She answered as she took a seat on the couch next to Nami. Sanji circled round the coffee table and took the last spot on the couch leaving the armchair for Himiko.

 “Anyway, I gave both of them a general background check as well as combing through their social medias.” Vivi started as her power point popped up on their TV.

 “Is this all really necessary? It feels like an invasion of privacy.” Himiko asked slightly flustered.

 “Hey, if you’re going to be financially dependent on these guys, I want to make sure everything is on the up and up.” Nami answered seriously while Sanji nodded his head in agreement.

 “Okay, I guess you can start whenever you’re ready Vivi.” Himiko said as she got comfortable in her seat.

 “Overall neither of them has a criminal history, or any habits that may become debilitating. They have been married for the past four years; it’s unclear when they first got together. They are both openly queer; Shanks post about their relationship more often than Mihawk does. That being said Mihawk post less overall so their proportion of post about their relationship is about the same.” Vivi states before clicking through the title slide to a picture of them together on a tropical beach somewhere. Sanji lets out a low whistle that Himiko rolls her eyes at.

 “Alright so I’ll start off with Shanks,” she said clicking through to the next slide. “He graduated from our university’s undergraduate program at 22 summa cum laude. He majored in political science. Two years later he graduated summa cum laude with a master’s in law. After graduation he immediately started working for the Oro Jackson law firm.” Vivi said clicking to the next slide that showed a younger Shanks shaking hands with Gol D. Rogers.

 “God damn,” Sanji said checking out the photo on the screen.

 “Really?” Himiko asked exasperated as she threw a pillow at his head.

 “What, I have eyes and that man is fine at any age.” Sanji defended himself as he rubbed the spot where the pillow hit him.

 “I mean I’m gay and even I have to admit that they’re both super hot.” Nami said while Vivi nodded in agreement.

 “Can we just continue?” Himiko narked.

 “Gladly,” Vivi said clicking to the next page labeled Career Cont. “He worked his way up the corporate ladder and made partner when he was 31. He regularly works pro bono and is heavily involved in the firm’s community outreach. It’s rumored that he will be starting his own law firm in the next couple of years.”

 “Damn he’s hot and has a good heart,” Nami said while she put down her drink and settled into the couch. Sanji nodded in agreement looking at the picture of him dreamily.

 “He has an excellent credit score and co owns two properties; a penthouse in uptown and a lake house an hour outside the city. He also has an impressive investment portfolio.” Vivi said as she clicked through the slide listing his fiscal qualities before she continues, “To rap up Shank’s portion the only semi red flag I could find was the amount of time he spends at your bar per week, but that may have more to do with you than his drinking habits.” Vivi finished. Himiko can feel her face heat up at Vivi’s comment as she avoided eye contact and played with the tassels on the throw pillow she was hugging. Now that she thought about it, he normally only had one or two drinks when he wasn’t celebrating a win. On the quieter nights he would opt to sit at the bar and talk. Sometimes alone or sometimes with fellow partners from the firm.

 “Mihawk is one year younger than Shanks but graduated the same year from the same university.” Vivi continued snapping Himiko out of her train of thought; her head shot up to continue to follow along with Vivi’s presentation. “He also graduated summa cum laude with a degree in microbiology. He went to a graduate program out of state before returning to the city to start his internship at center city hospital. He is currently an attending physician in the surgical department; his specialty is in neurosurgery. He is being primed to take over as chief of surgery when the current chief retires.” Vivi pauses to take a sip of her drink before continuing. “He shares the same fiscal portfolio as Shanks. As far as I could tell there are no red flags for Mihawk. He appears to be more of a home body than Shanks is.” Vivi finished as she clicked through the end of her slide show.

 “Thanks for putting all this together,” Himiko said turning from the TV back to facing the couch.

 “Oh, it was nothing.” Vivi said slightly flustered, “Honestly it was good practice.”

 “I think you did a great job babe,” Nami said beaming at Vivi. Vivi returned a shy smile.

 “Okay, so I’m not seeing any downsides to this.” Sanji said glancing around them to see if anyone disagreed.

 “I mean my only hang up was possibly outing them or for this to be a beard kinda situation, but if they’re already both out I don’t really have any concerns.” Himiko said.

 “I honestly didn’t find anything sketchy and they’re definitely making enough money to support you without it breaking the bank.” Vivi commented.

 “I feel better about this than I did before the presentation, but I still not a hundred percent there.” Nami said honestly.

 “Would you feel better if you met them?” Himiko asked, “You, Luffy and Vivi are the only ones that haven’t met either of them.”

 “Maybe, I don’t want to stain your relationship with them while it’s still forming.” Nami answered.

 “I don’t think either of them would mind meeting them. If they did that would honestly be a red flag I’d like to know about.” Himiko said as she pulled out her phone to text the Dilf’s group chat.

  “If you’re okay with then yeah, it’d make me feel better to know who you’ll be spending your free time with.” Nami nodded. Himiko opened up her messenger app and started typing.

Himiko: Hey, I’m almost done deciding,

Himiko: sorry it’s taking so long.

Himiko: Can my sister meet you before I decide?

Shanks: You have nothing to be sorry about.

Shanks: We want you to be confident in your decision.

Shanks: Mihawk is most likely doing rounds right now but he should be free in about an hour. Do you and your sister want to meet up at the botanical garden then?

 “When do you work today?” Himiko asked looking up at Nami.

 “Um one sec.” Nami says pulling out her phone, “I work at 3:30.”

 “Are you okay with meeting up with them in like an hour in center city?” she asked.

 “Yeah, that’ll work.” Nami nodded. Himiko nodded and sent a text confirming the time and place.

***

 “Why do I feel nervous?” Nami laughed as they ascended the subway steps up to center city.

 “I don’t know this feels pretty low steaks to me; you’re basically just doing a vibe check.” Himiko responded.

 “Yeah, but what if I mess up the vibe check and cost you this opportunity; or worse I think they pass the vibe check and then they do something awful.” Nami said with a concerned look on her face.

 “I think you’re overthinking this. Even if you make the wrong call, it’s in no way your fault. If they do something bad it’s solely on them not you.” Himiko said comfortingly as they stopped at the entrance to the garden.

 “Ready?” Himiko asked looking at Nami.

 “Ready,” Nami confirmed with a smile as they make their way to the center of the garden. Himiko immediately spotted the back of Shank’s head as they approached behind him. She didn’t see Mihawk yet, but they were early.

 “Is that him?” Nami whispered, nodding in Shank’s direction. Himiko nodded as they got within shouting distance of him. Shanks turned his head at the sound of crunching leaves and greeted them with his breath-taking smile.

 “Hey, Himiko early as always.” He teased as he got up from his seat on the bench.

 “You say that like you haven’t been earlier than me both time’s we’ve met outside of work.” Himiko laughed.

 “That’s only because my lovely husband likes to nag me into being early to things.” He joked, “Ah, speak of the devil.” Shanks said nodding behind them. Nami and Himiko turned to see Mihawk coming towards them in long strides.

 “Sorry for being late,” he said as he came into their cluster, “You must be Nami,”

He said holding out his hand to her. Nami exchanged a small smile and returned his handshake.

 “I don’t think you were late,” Himiko said checking her phone, “We were all just early.”

 “I suppose so, but I’m still sorry you had to wait.” Mihawk said as they turned to face him in a circle. After a pause Shanks broke the silence by greeting Nami.

 “I’m Shanks by the way,” he said holding out his hand. Nami shook it before he continued. “You’re sisters?” he asked glancing between them with a quirked brow.

 “Oh, she’s adopted,” Nami said in a mock whisper as she blocked her mouth’s view from Himiko with her hand.

 “You say that like you’re not also adopted.” Himiko says exasperated causing both men and Nami to laugh.

 “So, is it just the two of you living in the city?” Shanks asked.

 “Yeah, we moved here for a fresh start after our mom passed away a few years ago.” Nami answered.

 “We actually have a third sister, Nojiko, she’s the oldest out of the three of us. She decided to stay home in Florida. She co-owns and runs a tangerine grove.” Himiko adds on.

 “I didn’t realize that you were from the south.” Mihawk said tilting his head.

 “Oh, I’m not I was born in the northeast. My dad and I moved around a lot while I was growing up. We just happened to be in Florida when he passed away and Bellemere, Nami’s mom, took me in.” Himiko filled in.

 “I’m sorry to hear you had so many losses so close together.” Shanks said sympathetically.

 “I appreciate that, but we’re alright; it’s not like we had to go through it alone.” Himiko responded.

 “Yeah, we always had each other.” Nami nodded, bumping shoulders with Himiko as they shared a smile.

 “Now that we’ve met is there anything in particular you would like to know about us?” Mihawk asked looking down at Nami.

 “Not really, I mostly came here as a vibe check, and you both seem fine. I was really more making sure you two weren’t psycho murderers.” Nami answered honestly, before turning to Himiko. “Even though you don’t really need it, you have my blessing.”

 “Thanks Nom.” Himiko said

 “Anytime Ko,” Nami said before looking down at her phone, “I should head to work. It was nice meeting both of you.” Nami nodded at the two men before heading off.

 “No pressure, but have you made your decision yet?” Shanks asks turning his attention back to Himiko. She bit her lip and nodded.

 “Yes, I’m in.” She answered.

 “That’s great!” Shanks said with a smile, Mihawk nodded in agreement.

 “When would you be able to start?” Mihawk asked.

 “It’ll take two weeks for my schedule to change at work. After that I would be able to do this part time until the semester ends.”

 “Alright, I guess we’ll plan to start on the 3rd of December?” Shanks asked.

 “That sounds right,” Himiko nodded, “I should be able to see you in between that time depending on my schedule.”

 “Alright, I’m glad we were able to work this out,” Mihawk starts glancing down at his watch, “I should head back to work.” He said before pecking Shanks on the lip and nodding at Himiko with a small smile. He turned and headed back to the side door he came out of.

 “Can I walk you back to the subway?” Shanks asked smiling down at Himiko.

 “Sure,” she said returning the smile. Their hands brushed every few steps as they made their way back to the street.

MASTER LIST

[smokeonshadows]

So some Aladdin (2019) videos popped up on my recommended page and now I'm back to being obsessed with Jasmine/Jafar and the lack of good fic has me so upset!

There's not a lot on Ao3 and what's there just isn't for me. So much of it is about Jafar winning and then enslaving Jasmine, which is fine if you're into that, but it's already been done a lot and for me, a way more interesting idea is if sultan!Jasmine were to get control of genie!Jafar's lamp and they develop some weird antagonistic, codependent, sexy relationship. I mean, yeah, mostly the idea of Jasmine as the dom is an interesting subversion, but this would also be an exploration of Jasmine's dark side. And, in my headcanon, at least, I picture Jafar as having a masochistic side (especially when Jasmine's concerned).

I also think that it would be an interesting play on the complicated power dynamic that already existed between them. Because on one hand, Jafar was the sultan's right hand man, he had the second most powerful position in the kingdom…and then on the other hand, Jasmine is the sultan's only child, she's the de facto heir and part of the royal family by blood, a position that he could never reach even if he tried. But then this contradiction kind of ensures that only they can be each other's equal and there's really no one else that could ever be on their level, but the equilibrium between them is constantly shifting.

Now with Jasmine having the definitive upper hand in the relationship, it not only completely upends the precarious balance that they've been operating under for years, but it does so in a way that totally goes against convention (because an older man dominating a younger woman is basically more of the same) and push both of them into unfamiliar territory.

And, I mean, it's canon that Jasmine won in the end and became sultan and it rubs me the wrong way that so many fics feel like the only way to make Jasmine/Jafar work or to make that dynamic sexy is to take that win away from her. It's boring at best and lightly misogynistic at worst.

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Maddox Grimwood is based on Matches from Scooby-Doo. He is a 27 year old tattoo artist, dragonborn, and uses he/him pronouns. He has the power of fire manipulation, temperature control, and shifting. Maddox is portrayed by Nick Galitzine and he is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Not much is known about where Maddox came from. He was left on the doorstep at Miss Grimwood’s, a finishing school for young ghouls, as a baby with only a short note attached. In the note it stated his name– Maddox, but just that and he was descended from an ancient bloodline. Whoever wrote the note asked that Miss Grimwood take care of him and so she did. She raised the young boy as if he were her own and he took on her last name. It wasn’t long before he started showing signs of abilities like Miss Grimwood had never seen before. Small fires became a regular thing where they lived and Maddox had to learn at a young age to control his temper tantrums. He was one that was quick to anger and when he did, well, sometimes things got a little out of control. He’s not the best at biting his tongue but he tries. As he grew up he was taught the basics alongside the ghouls who he became close with, vowing to protect them and take care of them in any way. He was sort of like their weird, older brother. Life seemed to be alright, he stayed with Miss Grimwood and helped her with most anything she asked despite his complaints. Then one day the ghouls started disappearing one by one and Maddox felt like he was a failure. He promised to find them and went out and the last thing he could remember before waking up in Evermore was leaving and bidding Miss Grimwood goodbye. Memories of life before Evermore were hazy, he knew he was out on a mission to find the ghouls but memories of Miss Grimwood were few and far between. The minute he realized he was trapped Maddox had to get his act together so he could adjust to his new life. He got a job apprenticing at a tattoo shop, slowly working his way up into a permanent position. His apartment was fine, but he still needed to finish what he came looking for. He knew he was stuck in Evermore for a reason and that was to find the ghouls. He just knew they were there and he was determined to find them. When he finally did he felt relieved, but now what? They were all stuck there and Miss Grimwood was left alone. Despite being settled for the most part Maddox still wants a way out. He spends a lot of time reading, researching a way but oftentimes he winds up reading old lore, anything he can find out about what he really was and where he could have possibly come from. Answers were difficult to find, but he’s slowly starting to think he might be stuck… forever.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

Malina Saleh: Maddox doesn’t trust her at all. She has poked her head in his business before and he doesn’t appreciate it. He avoids her the best he can but for some reason it feels like she always has eyes on him. He’s not sure what she wants or her end goal, but he isn’t sure he wants to find out. Zane Olson: Zane is a very good friend of Maddox. If he had to say someone was his best friend he would probably say Zane. The two even each other out and it’s a good balance in their friendship. Peri Windsor: Fire and ice don’t always mesh well together and neither do Maddox and Peri on most days. That doesn’t stop them from hooking up every now and then though. He doesn’t mind her company but their friction is trying at times.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[knightprincess]

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 7

Words: 1.4k  Warning: Hurt/Comfort (soft Fives)

:keep reading:

(Y/N) waited. All she could do was wait for the return of those who had gone on the Citadel assignment, or she could do was prey to the force all of them would return safely, even if they were a little banged up and needed time to recuperate. Even now as she spent time with her family, the sinking feeling something was wrong haunted her. The feeling something terrible was going to happen clenched her stomach and refused to go away. Devika had noticed instantly, shifting closer to grab hold of her hand in comfort. Isolde and their parents were too busy gushing over the recent wedding, whereas Octavius watched the two women from his spot at Isolde's side. It being clear, there were many thoughts swimming through his mind, maybe even regret. 

"They'll come back" whispered Devika, recalling the recent conversation, she'd had with her sister and best friend. How she'd finally convinced (Y/N) to take the leap of faith and ask the Arc Trooper she'd all but been crushing on, out on a date. Even more so when it was so obvious to everyone who knew Echo, he had fallen for (Y/N) too but had found himself in fear of something. Maybe breaking the rules put in place or worse, rejection. "Kix, Wolffe, and Jesse all said they'll comm you when they're back" reassured the younger woman, a soft grin on her lips as she did so. All she ever wanted for her older sister, was to finally see her happy again, to see her finally realize the strength she had and find someone who truly appreciated her. 

"Being with you is also my biggest mistake" were the words to bring both (Y/N) and Devika back to reality. Their parents looked shocked, whereas Isolde's expression was a mix of anger, annoyance, and frustration. Despite the obvious insult Octavius of all people had delivered to her, no sadness could be found, only a little bit of surprise could be seen. It was almost as if the older (Y/L/N) sisters, had expected her husband would eventually regret the decisions he'd made, especially those concerning (Y/N). Within seconds a fight had broken out between the couple, with the parents trying their best to be mediators between the pair and bring about a peaceful solution, even when it was obvious they would favor Isolde, as they always did. 

"And that's our cue" whispered (Y/N), not wanting to be anywhere near the pair when fought. Especially when Isolde had a terrible habit of pulling other people into her arguments as if it was her go-to tactic to win and get what she wanted. Devika nodded, as both stood from the sofa they'd been occupying and headed for the front door, the two women silently deciding to go to their favorite cafe on the lower levels. The cafe the two used to go to with their uncle before his passing, several years prior. 

"You know if Uncle Seth could see us now he'd be proud right" commented Devika, the moment the two left the apartment building. The instantly they did, a smile appeared on her lips, as if all the happiness that seemed impossible before, had now returned tenfold. "He would be throwing you right at a specific Arc Trooper and telling you to be happy. And no doubt reminding me to keep a healthy work-life balance" laughed the younger senator in training, recalling their beloved uncle so fondly. How he'd been a father figure to her and (Y/N), giving them the attention their parents refused to offer. In school, he'd attend every one of their functions with a camera to record everything. 

"We both know he smiling down on us right now" voiced (Y/N), knowing there was truth to her words. Uncle Seth would be grinning like a madman from his place above. Even more so to see both of them doing all in their power to help the troopers who fought tirelessly for the republic. Devika in the senate, working with other senators to give the clones a voice and proper representation. Fighting for them to be treated as the individuals they truly were rather than the property they were treated as. Whereas (Y/N) stood at their side, even through the worst battles, patching them up and bringing a bit of sunshine to the darkest days of the war. She'd been a friend to them and did all she could to make the horrors a little better, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

The sisters were soon interrupted by the familiar beeping of a comm link. Devika's had gone off first, regretfully she'd answered only to hear Isolde yelling the opposite side, demanding both of them return as she needed her sisters support. Although it was obvious she was still in the midst of her argument with Octavius. (Y/N) had gone off mere seconds after Devika had disconnected Isolde mid-rant. Both of them had assumed it was Isolde, nonetheless (Y/N) had answered, only to hear Jesse's voice on the opposite side, asking her to come to the military base, informing her the team sent on the Citedal assignment had returned. Yet to the surprise of both sisters, Jesse had suggested Devika come too. 

The dread ripped through (Y/N) once more. The team sent to rescue Jedi Master Even Piell had returned, which (Y/N) was thankful for, but she hadn't missed the sadness in Jesse's voice, she hadn't missed the pain echoing there. It was so clear there was more he wanted to say but didn't want to do so over the comm link. Devika too fell into silence, the happiness the pair had shared seemingly sucked from them, as they rerouted towards the military base. The Senator in training had never been there before, so knew something had to have happened for her to be invited along. Even more so when it was supposed to be authorized personnel only. 

The moment the sisters had arrived at the base, they'd been met by two troopers, Rex and Fives, both with somber expressions painted on their identical features, both refusing to look (Y/N) in the eye. Which in turn only confirmed to her something had happened and the haunting feelings she'd had since they'd left for the Citedal assignment hadn't been for nothing. But a warning of what was to come. Rex soon spirited Devika away, offering to give her a short tour of the base, after introducing himself. Thrust leaving (Y/N) and Fives alone, and the Arc Trooper with the task he hoped he would never have to do. 

"I'm sorry Snap" started Fives, his voice barely above a whisper as his honey eyes glimmered with unushered tears. His own heart began to break as he remembered what happened to Echo, how he'd lost his twin. "Echo.... he.... he didn't make it" stuttered the Arc Trooper, finally looking his friend in the eye. Almost instantly he saw the rush of emotions, confusion, realization, anger, sadness, and denial. Fives caught (Y/N) when her knees went weak and gave up holding her up, his care for his battle-worn helmet replaced with the need to keep the medic in his arms safe. 

"W.....wh...what h....hap...happened?" questioned Snap, through her tears and hiccups. She hoped he hadn't suffered, even hope this was all just a terrible joke and Echo would appear at any second to tell her so. Yet regret was also there, she never told him the truth about her feelings, she promised herself she would when he returned from the Citedal mission. Why hadn't she just found the courage to tell him before? Why had she been so afraid? All of it felt crushing, her heartbreaking once more, although far worse than it had with Octavius. This time it felt like her whole world was about to end. 

"We were trapped. He tried to get to the shuttle but the clankers destroyed it. He was on the boarding ramp" whispered Fives, finally allowing his own tears to fall, as he lowered himself and (Y/N) to the ground below them. He didn't care they were outside, he didn't care what others thought. He'd lost his twin, all that mattered was keeping to the promise he made to Echo before they were frozen in carbonite. It was almost like Echo knew he wasn't coming back from the mission so had gotten his trusted brothers, to promise they would take care of his Snap. "He loved you Snap, was planning on telling you when we returned" brokenly sighed the Arc Trooper, knowing deep down it wouldn't help but still believing the shining light most called friend, deserved to know the truth only those closest to Echo knew. 

Masterlist

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | The Blessing Way (3x01)

He’d watched the funeral from a distance, paying his respects to a man whom he had once considered a friend. The years had been unkind, with a rift forming between them, spread to a width that was no longer crossable. So he kept out of sight, away from the mourners who knew nothing of who Bill Mulder had once been. 

Teena, he’d known well. At one point in time, anyway. As he watched her speaking with Agent Mulder’s partner, he remembered the warmth she’d had all those years before. He and his colleagues had been young, idealistic, and motivated by their cause. They’d had wives and small children, lives that were full of love, partnership, joy even. 

How far they had all fallen. 

He pushed his reverie aside as Agent Scully stepped away from Teena and walked toward him. While her pale skin and bright hair caught what little light filtered through the clouds, he found her to be small and unassuming, drowning in an overcoat that was much too large for her frame. When she noticed him, her gaze became sharp and fixed, and he knew there was more to her than meets the eye. 

“Hello,” he said cautiously, in an attempt to earn her trust. “I see you’re a friend of the family. So am I. Do you think we might find a moment to speak?” 

“About?”

Her expression stayed the same: curious without giving anything away. Had he been new to this game, he may have been concerned that she wouldn’t hear what he had to say. But years of persuading those at the highest levels of power had assured him that she would listen. 

“A very serious matter,” he told her truthfully. “Please, can we find someplace away from the others?” 

He took a few steps and she followed. As they walked, she kept her distance, listening intently while maintaining an air of distrust. 

She asked him who he was, what he wanted, and that was the question, wasn’t it? Looking at this FBI agent, who was no older than his own youngest child, reminded him how much of the world their generation didn’t understand. They’d been untouched by the war, lived with technology he’d only dreamed of when he was a boy. In their eyes, the concept of alien races, colonizatio, and annihilation were nothing more than a Hollywood scheme to sell movie tickets. 

This woman, her partner. His children and his grandchildren. They were all living on the precipice of the end of the human race, but they were only concerned with jobs, school assignments, and playdates. 

Life, as it should be. 

That’s why he was there. The balance had shifted and it was time he made an attempt to right the scales. For the sake of all the people on this planet, yes, but it was his grandchildren’s futures that kept him up at night. 

“What are you here for?” she asked. He could tell by her demeanor that she was ready for their conversation to come to a close. 

“To tell you your life is in danger too.”

Agent Scully watched him for a moment, eyebrows pinched together, before turning to walk away. “Leave me alone.”

She needed to believe it. He needed her to believe it. 

“They'll kill you one of two ways,” he said, making her turn to face him. He closed the gap between them. “They'll send someone, possibly two men. They'll kill you in your home or in the garage with an unregistered weapon which will be left at the scene. Using false documents supplied by associates of mine, they'll be out of the country in less than two hours.”

He’d made her nervous. The strong exterior she’d held was gone, replaced by heavy breaths that caused her shoulders to rise and fall. Her face told him that he’d succeeded. 

She believed every word of what he was telling her. 

“You said there were two ways.”

“Yes,” he said, luring her in further. “He or she will be someone close to you. Someone you trust. They'll arrange a meeting or come to your house unexpectedly. Do you have someplace else you might stay?

“Why, why kill me?”

“You want something they don't. Justice. And because they are now quite certain you don't have the computer copy of the files they're looking for.

“Why are you protecting me?” she asked, her words strong as fire started to burn within her. 

“I feel my colleagues are acting... impulsively,” he said. “and your death will draw unnecessary attention to our group.”

Her gaze dropped as she considered what he’d said. “You're not protecting me, you're protecting yourself.”

She was as smart as he hoped she’d be. He knew that her belief in the validity of Mulder’s work was precarious, but he could see now how she was the perfect counterpart for their work.They’d taken steps in the past to remove her from the game, but he was starting to realize that, like himself, his organization had grossly underestimated this woman. 

“Why should that surprise you?” he asked her, comfortably. “Motives are rarely unselfish.”

“What kind of business are you in?”

“We predict the future,” he said, feeling his lips turn into something close to a smile. “And the best way to predict the future is to invent it.”

Agent Scully continued to stare at him, unsure if what he said was true. He’d done what he’d intended, and it had gone better than he’d expected.

“Good day, young lady,” he said in parting as he turned to walk back to his car. The cemetery was quiet now that the funeral had ended. The air was crisp from a previous rain. He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs as he hoped things would go as planned.

He opened the car door and slipped inside, taking out his phone, and pressing speed dial. The line connected after two rings. 

“Daddy, it’s so good to hear from you.”

Read all the chapters of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3

@fridaysat9

[badedramay]

seeing the kim criticism from north american pakistanis is so funny. i admit i was annoyed by it in the first episode bc the terrorist label she gave dawood seemed a bit over the top but i feel like her "american" quirks are pretty mellow for the most part and hardly take away from the main themes of the drama wrt understanding, balance of power, etc. in a landscape of dramas that are thriving on their ability to attract audience with their overdone theatrics and abuse plotlines, isn't it nice to resonate with something more down to earth that seeks to address the more subtle issues we tend to overlook? and thankfully, at least from what i see in the youtube comments weekly, not many people seem to mind her american quirks and are instead focused on those strong points of the story, particularly the bonds showcased between the various women in the family. i'm not going to say kim's portrayal is 100% perfect or anything but the people constantly complaining are being so overdramatic. there's a willful blindness element at play here too, bc plenty of the pakistani american characters in older dramas also showcased their fair share of unrealistic behaviors. it's nothing new and idk why we're trying to scrutinize it so severely now!

THANK YOU FOR SAYING THIS!!!

I will reiterate - the criticism that Kim faces from the non-Pakistan based Pakistanis is more because of how the character doesn't fit THEIR 'neat' image of a 'physically away but dil se always in Pakistan' persona that they are trying very hard to maintain. but that's not whom Kim is made to serve. her character is meant to serve the story Yunhi is telling and Kim is doing that perfectly.

YT audience is smarter than most intellectuals as it at least sees a drama for the drama it IS and not project their own prejudices and views on it. Kim started on a very bad note..the terrorist comment was TOO much and the criticism it got for that was justified. but Yunhi really scarified its initial weeks and got the 'bad' things out of the way. and now at least we have this assurance that things won't go back to that place again cuz hey, the characters are PROGRESSING AND DEVELOPING EACH WEEK!!!

I have accepted that it's not important if Kim is American. she could've been from Timbuktu and her character would've still been the same more or less as this narrative needed the FL to be an "alien" in the ML's world. an Outsider who can notice and point out the flaws in this world that its inhabitants have accepted as normal for so long they cannot fathom the idea of correcting these problems or the possibility of positive change. it's just that Amreeka is a word that everyone in Pakistan knows. it is still the land of dreams for many desis who have it in their head ke bass ek baar wahan qadam rakh den toh phir dollaron ki baarish hogi hum pe aur bass life badal jaegi. her being Amreekan is because it's more convenient for the story to convince the audience her being an Outsider but still belonging to a world that's desirable and achievable. that's just all there is.

Yunhi has its flaws and yes fAIneE Kim makes up for more than half of it. but c'mon! like you said..just look at the current landscape of dramas which is THRIVING on the melodrama and OTTness which is all about the bang bang with very little substance to offer beyond it and then look at Yunhi and how subtly but beautifully it is talking about things that ARE the reality of many normal middle class families living in the country. it is not posing to be something super progressive or making grand speeches about how something should™ be done. it's just shifting the lens just a little bit to bring forth POVs that are not always shown and letting the audience decide which side of the argument do they wish to support? there's no right or wrong here. it's not even going all that deep with anything! so yeah..all this scrutiny over accents and correct representation? WAY TO MISS THE ENTIRE POINT PEOPLE!!!

[uboat53]

Well, I've been talking a lot about how Biden's issues are a media-generated feeding frenzy based on one bad debate and a years-long campaign of right-wing media misinformation and I hold to that, but it doesn't seem to be going away and even capable players like Pelosi and Obama seem to be moving on it, so it may just be a matter of time now. Given that, let's game out what happens next, shall we? We can call this a SHORT RANT (TM).

THE WILDEST STUFF

First of all, it's pretty clear that, if Biden withdraws, Harris takes the nomination. Yes, I know, some people have been floating Buttigieg, Newsome, or Whitmer, among others, but there's no way to bloodlessly bypass the first black, female Vice-President. I mean, I'm sure there's some wild, far out way that it could happen, but the odds of it happening in a way that doesn't fatally wound the nominee with two of Democrat's key voting blocs are so infinitesimal that I don't feel I need to consider it. For that reason, we're going to look specifically at Harris.

HARRIS AS A CANDIDATE

Now, Obama and Pelosi aren't stupid people, they're savvy politicians. I haven't seen Harris really campaign since the 2020 election, but she's been out there (media coverage has been poor in that regard) so I'm sure people in the know have seen her. She was a little rough in '20, but she's had four years since then and, from the little I've seen, she's improved a bit. There's no way to know for sure, though, until we see her on the stump. Is she a star campaigner, a disaster, or just "meh"? The answer will determine a lot about how it turns out.

As far as fundraising and campaign infrastructure, she's already on the ticket, so it shouldn't be too hard to transfer things over to her. There's likely to be some friction as her circle of advisors take the main roles and Biden's circle step back a bit, but hopefully there's enough overlap and trust between the teams that things can go smoothly. Again, hopefully this is being taken into consideration because if it doesn't go smoothly there's almost no time to fix any issues.

Her first big decision is going to be to choose a Vice-President. Given that she's a black woman, a white man is probably going to be the best choice. There's a lot of Americans who like to pretend that they're not racist but actually are and they will still need placating. As far as Democrats who meet that description go, there's no shortage, particularly if she wants to choose an older white man to balance out any perceived youth and inexperience. There's also Buttigieg (a young, white man from the Midwest) if she wants to really load the ticket with young star power and make a stark contrast with Trump's age. Whatever way she chooses, this will be the first major decision she makes and will likely define the rest of her campaign.

THE ELECTION

And, of course, we can't forget the big picture; what does this mean for the election? In the short run, probably not much. All the data seems to show Harris polling at about the same level Biden was, meaning that this race is likely still a dead heat. However, Harris has a few things that Biden didn't. First off, she's not as widely known as he is. She has almost exactly the same approval rating Biden did, but her disapproval rating is 6% lower. That's 11% of the population that hasn't made up their mind about her yet as opposed to 5% for Biden. If some of those voters warm to her, she'll be in a strong position. If they don't, then she's in trouble.

Secondly, she's 24 years younger than him and 21 years younger than Trump. Age has been a massive issue in this election with the oldest candidates in history. If Biden withdraws and Harris takes over, the age issue shifts from being a Democratic problem to being a Republican problem. Probably. Maybe. Look, it doesn't definitely become a Republican problem, but she certainly has an opportunity to make it one given that she's not even to retirement age yet while Trump is well past the expected life expectancy for a white man born in 1946 (66.5 at birth, 77.8 at age 65). Can she do it? We'll see.

That said, she also has two huge disadvantages that Biden does not have: she's black and a woman. For all the claims by conservatives that racism and sexism aren't problems anymore, the data is absurdly clear that black and female candidates pay a pretty big penalty. The most important penalty is in how they're perceived; what would be seen as confident in a white man gets perceived as bossy, bitchy, or even flat-out threatening when a black person or a woman does it. Like any black woman she's spent her whole life navigating that and I'm sure she's capable on that front; still, it's the kind of thing that bites you when you least expect it.

SOME POSSIBLE TRACKS

Thirdly, let's talk about opportunity. Biden's been great as far as governing, but his messaging… yeah, it could have used some work. Most people have no idea about all of the things his administration has done and most people have no idea about the policies that Trump is proposing. Harris would have a big opportunity to trumpet all the things that have been accomplished in the last 3.5 years and to start turning the spotlight onto some of the very unpopular things that Trump is proposing to do. She can also put some heat on his lack of transparency. I know it feels like he's very transparent because he just rambles off whatever thought is on his brain, but we still haven't seen his medical records, his grades from school, and, nine years after he started running for office, we still have no idea what his business record actually looks like. If she can manage all of that, she can make a pretty strong case for herself. If she can't… well, Trump has proven pretty good at defining his opponents for them if they can't do it themselves.

THE "NOW" FACTOR

Finally, let's talk about timing. We're now less than 4 months out from the general election which is an eternity in some ways but also not a lot of time in others. It's a huge amount of time in terms of unexpected things that can happen and upend the race, especially a close one as this appears to be, but it's also an absurdly small amount of time in terms of fixing any issues with fundraising and campaign infrastructure. Also, in Harris' favor, it's a very small amount of time for right-wing media to to perform their favored tactic of repeating a damaging story ad infinitum until it solidifies in the public consciousness.

Right-wing media spent 30 years portraying Hillary Clinton as cold-blooded and corrupt (Was she? Based on the evidence, no more so than the average politician) and 6 years portraying Joe Biden as a doddering old dementia patient (Is he? I've been over this one quite a bit, so I'll just let that stand), but the only real attack line they've previewed on Harris is that they think her first name sounds funny.

These kinds of attacks work best over time, repeated week after week, month after month, and year after year. Humans are programmed to give more weight to information we hear over and over again and right-wing media makes use of that particular bug in our software all the time. 4 months, however, isn't a lot of time to solidify a narrative, especially when they still have yet to settle on what narrative they're going to use. Of course, as I mentioned, Americans are also pre-disposed to think negatively of African-Americans and women, so it's also possible that a racial or sexist dog-whistle might be all they need. Honestly, it could go either way.

ONE LAST THING…

As a last aside, I'm sure at least some Democrats are thinking about what to do if it becomes clear that even ditching Biden isn't enough to ensure Trump's defeat. I'd imagine, in that case, they'll shift message to promote the idea of electing Democrats to congress to act as a check. I haven't looked into how many seats are actually in play or what the polling suggests about that, so I have no idea if that would be successful or not, but it's probably the best option in that case.

CONCLUSION

All in all, switching Biden for Harris is a mixed bag from my point of view. There's certainly more room for her to improve on his position, but there's also a ton of room for things to go downhill. The optimist in me likes to think that things would go in the positive direction, but the cynic in me knows that the negative issues aren't always that easy to overcome.

In all likelihood, there will be a bit of both. Whether the good will outweigh the bad… well, Biden hasn't actually withdrawn, so we'll have to see. Switching candidates is a big gamble, I just hope it pays off if we do it.

[pagetreader]

The prayer was bittersweet, their faith being tested. Though it was reeled and tossed about in the storm, it never completely waivered, even in times of uncertainty – even when they felt bitter. Rebekah was no longer alone in picking up the pieces of her broken heart. 

Her anxiety subsided and she squeezed Benjamin’s hand in turn, grateful for him, no matter the circumstances. 

It surprised her to hear her father ask about Isaac’s well-being. The morning her brother had departed for enlistment, Elias had warned him never to set foot in his house again, lest he shoot him dead. Perhaps the severity of the war was softening even the hardest of hearts. 

Fortunately, Benjamin was able to give Elias a fair answer, offering Rebekah a soft smile as he fondly remarked, "You Abbotts don't exactly take no for an answer. I imagine if he'd been denied, he would've found a way to defy all orders. Though preferably, he wouldn't have to dress as a woman."

Beneath the table, Benjamin nudged her in jest and she playfully retaliated with a soft kick to his boot.

“Oh, aye. If your soldiers were to shimmy down the British battalion line in drag, it would surely send the enemy into such a fit of laughter, you’d be able to end this war far sooner.” 

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Rebekah laughed, and for a moment she could’ve sworn she’d seen a lopsided grin shifting through her father’s facial hair. 

"He'll be all right, sir. I promise,” Benjamin reassured, “Upon my return, I can personally see to it that he's looked out for -- without his knowledge, of course."

“I’d appreciate that, son,” Elias answered before returning his attention to his plate. 

Absentmindedly picking at her food, Rebekah stole a glance or two at Benjamin, realizing how much older he looked. War had matured him rapidly, but why hadn’t she noticed it all this time?

Had she been so caught up in her selfish wallowing that she hadn’t a thought to spare for what he’d been inwardly suffering over the past two years? The man carried so much on his shoulders while balancing on a thin tightrope, always worried, always tired, always enduring in silence. 

God Almighty, she hated to think of him doing so alone. In her life, she wouldn’t allow him to do so anymore – not now that she was there beside him. 

When the kitchen was cleaned, and her father had gone to sit out on the porch, per his routine, rain or shine, Rebekah led Benjamin upstairs to her bedroom, a place once so familiar that seemed so foreign now, as though it’d been a lifetime ago she’d while away the hours sewing in the corner chair or nestled with young Levi on the bed reading him stories.

This time, when her heart twinged, it felt just a little more manageable. She’d lost much in between that time – become a little stronger despite the lingering grief that numbed her throughout the day. Slowly but surely, she was learning to persevere -- as a soldier should.

Hearing Benjamin close the door behind them, she turned on her heel to embrace him tightly, wanting to take advantage of the quiet calm of this night. To hold him and be held by him. For a little while, they could pretend that the world had been shut away behind the door and they were safe and untouchable, that they would never be forced to part from one another. Stress, sadness, and fear were not powerful enough to penetrate the walls of this secure haven. Their little sanctuary. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck, nuzzling him softly. 

"If we weren't in danger of being recognized by the militia, I could've planned a trip to the market in the morning. God knows he hasn't been going himself."

"He seems healthy," Benjamin offered, "and really, isn't that all we can ask for?"

Rebekah's chopping was manic and forceful, and gently, he laid his hand over hers, halting her bladed attack. "Let me," he offered. "You can get started on the pudding." With a weary smile, he added, "Now I know you've lost faith in my culinary skills, but surely you still believe in my blade-wielding?"

Slowly, a hint of her own smile formed in her eyes, and the two set to work on preparing the meager spread. By the time they brought everything out into the dining room, Elias was already seated, quiet and unsmiling while they said grace. Sometimes, it was difficult to be thankful -- and now, most especially.

Beneath the table, Benjamin caught Rebekah's free hand and gently squeezed, warming her chilled fingers in his palm. The unspoken I love you reverberated through his every touch, and he prayed it would always be enough.

From across the table, Elias announced, "I received word from Isaac that he's stationed at an outpost in Trenton. Have ye any knowledge of it, Benjamin?"

Eyes lifting from the table, Benjamin jerked, momentarily concerned that he'd overstepped in some way. But once he saw the earnestness in the other man's eyes, it occurred to him that Elias merely didn't wish to lose another loved one. The plaintive no more seemed to echo in his every breath, and clearing his throat, Benjamin took a swallow of ale and nodded. "The outpost's been perfectly impenetrable, if that's your concern," he said. "Washington needed a few extra hands over that way, so Isaac volunteered. Because as you know..." Here, he flashed Rebekah a soft smile. "You Abbotts don't exactly take no for an answer. I imagine if he'd been denied, he would've found a way to defy all orders. Though preferably, he wouldn't have to dress as a woman."

Lightly nudging Rebekah, if only to show his jest, he smiled before looking back to Elias. "He'll be all right, sir. I promise. Upon my return, I can personally see to it that he's looked out for -- without his knowledge, of course."

The Abbott pride was just as deadly as their determination.

[chaosincurate]

chaosincurate's top song find of 2023

Instant Crush by Daft Punk & Julian Casablancas

Genre: Pop

About this superlative

Every year there is a tonne of older music that people discover, and they never get the chance to have the spotlight put on them, even if said people enjoy that older music more than the new stuff. I want to make sure I give past music the love it deserves too though, not only by writing about the albums I hear on my monthly "My Month in Music" posts, and occasional singular posts about music I am particularly fond of, but by highlighting them here, too, as my top finds of the year.

Honourable mentions

It's Oh So Quiet by Björk - This one is just incredibly fun. The stark shifts in intensity between verse and chorus, the fun Björk is clearly having with her vocal performance, those brass hits... There's no part of this song that isn't pure fun with music for me, I love it.

REBOUND! by JPEGMAFIA - JPEGMAFIA really excels in production, for me. I love the bass that is saturated so far beyond the line for "too much" that it wraps back around and becomes just right again, and the percussion that feels so erratic yet seems like its all in it's perfect place. This album took a little while to click for me, but I'm glad I gave it repeat listens for songs like this, which always grab my attention and get me hyped whenever they come on. Also the line "All that shit that you did to your girl // I just wish that you'd do it to me" is simple but phenomenal. Even after over 50 listens, I still crack a smile when I hear it.

Point and Kill by Little Simz - This song has one of the smoothest grooves I've ever heard, and when I first heard it I couldn't stop listening. Most of that comes from that incredible bassline, but credit is also due for Little Simz' perfect flow. She just glides over it in a way that feels so intertwined with it... It's simple, but difficult for me to describe as a relative newbie to hip hop and rap, but what I can say is that it sounds awesome and helps make this song as addicting as it is.

Doorman by slowthai & Mura Masa - If you want an indication of what electronic punk sounds like, for my money it doesn't get much better than this. Rapping is pretty similar to some punk vocals anyway, but the blurry lines are accentuated here with slowthai's slower performance with a little melody mixed in. The instrumental is simple, but fast and powerful (if REBOUND! hypes me up, this shit gives me a heart attack). The song keeps things short and condensed, so as to hit hard and pull back before you get sick of it. It appears as though they just used a punk formula, but got a rapper and a DJ to perform it and it somehow worked wonders.

Sweet Transvestite by Tim Curry - I usually wouldn't cover a piece of music that accompanies another work on this blog but... Come on. Tim Curry is exceptional here. The fun he's having comes through with a near-purity, with only the exception of the tonne of charismatic, sexy sass mixed in. It's definitely silly, what with it being from camp cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show and all, but it's difficult to not buy into that silliness.

Back to my top pick

When I first listened to this song I got an Instant Crush on it.

Anyway, now that I've plucked that low-hanging fruit, let's get into why.

There's a brilliant sense of balance to this song. The drums do a lot of work in that, as simple as they are, but the way that the muted guitar adds an almost percussive element to shake things up a little there, the distant synths in the verse, there's the perfect amount going on to hint at more while still leaving you wanting it, and everything calls attention to itself just as much as it needs to. Then the chorus comes, the synth comes into a more prominent position in the mix, Julian Casablancas almost sounds like he wants to be there (not a diss, I love Julian Casablancas), and it all still feels understated enough that there's room for the song to grow, but exciting enough to be a payoff.

I could go into more detail, but I'm already afraid that it's reading like a "how pop songs are made" post, but when it's done this perfectly, that's all you can really do. That being said though, there are things like the short guitar solo, that weren't especially necessary, but still add something fresh into the mix to keep things interesting. That synth on the outro is also the perfect lead-out.

Like I said, it's difficult to portray how great a pop song is when it's done perfectly, but if you're a poptimist who likes perfection, this is it, this is pop perfection with a funky lean. But I don't know why I'm talking here as if there's a poptimist out there that hasn't heard this song, I'm pretty sure I was the last living human to listen to Random Access Memories. I may be late to the party, but I'm very enthusiastic about it, I regret not getting here sooner.