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astralis-ortus · 7 months ago

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sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3 ⋆ see masterlist

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

“not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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alectothinker · 1 year ago

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the unwanted guest reference compilation (revised, thank u tltblr!) (scroll down for additions)

every day i thank tamsyn muir for her planet sized brain (and the new short story). will be quoting heavily from TUG so spoilers under the cut!

woo this is a long one. (will probably miss stuff, im a non-western zoomer)

References are in the order that they appear in TUG ->

Pal’s mask being a reference to his shattered and glued-back-together skull:

“This is PALAMEDES SEXTUS, whose mask is distinguished by being plain, of shattered wood clumsily taped or glued back together.” (page 480)

Pain (slight pain) (jk. pretty good amount of pain)

2. An Inspector Calls by JB Priestly:

“IANTHE Oh — Inspector. How terribly good of you to call so late.” (page 483)

Ok there are so many other parallels to AIC in this story (the setting, the stage play format, overall message) and I’ve written briefly about it here

3. This better not awaken anything in me [original clip from community thank u @what3ver]

“[Ianthe gayly describing infinite strip poker with harrow] Yuck. I hope that hasn’t awakened anything in me.” (p492)

(she’s tucking the image away in her mind palace as we speak)

4. Ace attorney (i LAUGHED)

"Palamedes slams both hands down flat on the lid of the upper coffin, then thrusts his arm out to point an accusing finger at Ianthe. PALAMEDES you're avoiding the question!” (p493)

Insert ace attorney OBJECTION dot gif here

5. and right after ace attorney, Monty Python:

“IANTHE No. It's a fair cop, guv'nor. But, in this instance, society really is to blame.” (p493)

Probably a reference to Monty Python's Flying Circus, "Church Police". Quote taken from tvtropes:

Man: All right, it's a fair cop, but society's to blame. Church Policeman: Right, we'll arrest them instead.

6. Looney tunes:

“IANTHE (Brightly) That’s all, folks! Back after the break.” (p495)

Here’s a clip of porky pig saying it bc why not: That's All Folks HD

7. Hamlet

“VOICE ‘Use every man after his desert, and who should ‘scape whipping?’” (p500)

Original quote:

“Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity, the less they deserve ... the more merit in your bounty.”

notes: very hot of dulcie to know shakespeare

8. Haters meme (?)

does this even count as a meme at this point. Idk but i love that dulcie said it.

“VOICE Truly, wonderful news for my haters.” (p501)

9. The bible (ofc)

“PALAMEDES (as if reciting) ‘And her body was like the chrysolite, and her face as the appearance of lighting, and her eyes as a burning lamp; and her arms, and all downward to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass.’” (p502)

Palamedes quotes Daniel 10:6 when Dulcie reveals (?) herself to him. I'm not super familiar with the bible, but depending on dif sources from google (lol), the original quote describes either Christ or the angel Gabriel appearing to Daniel:

"And his body was like the chrysolite, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as a burning lamp: and his arms, and all downward even to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass: and the voice of his word like the voice of a multitude." (from the Douay-Rheims Bible)

ok finally stuff that might be a reference but I havent been able to figure out a lot has been figured out! additions from tltblr here:

p481

> probably nothing, but any significance re pal’s calling card being the skeleton hand? probably a reference to the skele hand harrow made him in htn (via @guyrunsbackwards)

p482

The Almond Room?? Is this anything. It seems so weirdly specific lol

“IANTHE the master will see you in the Almond Room, sir.”

crowdsourced possibilities:

the almond room representing babs' borrowed amygdala, which is involved in processing memory, decision making, and emotional response; would make sense for the investigation/interrogation to take place here (via @confusedbyinterface)

may be a reference to the game Clue, where the individual rooms in which the mystery happens have specific names (via @the-light-of-stars);

a reference to cyanide, which smells like almonds (@the-light-of-stars, @satans-poptarts); + @winged mentioned that in a lot of early 20th century whodunnits, someone has a revelation about the real conclusion when they smell almond somewhere it shouldn't be (vs pal and ianthe having their revelations about babs' soul in the almond room)

p487

"IANTHE False things have a piquancy which the real can never match. PALAMEDES is that from something? IANTHE Everything's from something.”

• ianthe is this actually from something. google yielded no straightforward results :(

p503

"IANTHE You look to me like a small boy holding a tail when he doesn’t even know where the donkey is.”

Nothing in particular just the image of tiny pal playing pin the tail on the donkey is so. He’s baby. Also he probably found a way to be very good at it via psychometry lol

@mayasaura: Under the circumstances, the donkey thing also reminded me of Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant, about the limits of perception in understanding the true nature of being. Or, to quote Wikipedia: "The moral of the parable is that humans have a tendency to claim absolute truth based on their limited, subjective experience" <- ianthe turbo roasting pal, love to see it

Miscellaneous / theatre techniques:

> What's up with the coffins?

@tangelotime: the coffins might be a black box theater technique, using boxes to represent certain settings rather than faithfully recreating them on the stage; @the-light-of-stars mentioned that the arrangement of the coffins depends on Pal's questions:

first he asks a philosophical question thus the arrangement in the style of a greek symposion - their style of dialogue also is in reference to Plato's work 'Symposion', as well as Ianthe offering Pal wine and the servants placing velvet cushions. The next question is about Babs' murder thus arrangement in style of a courtroom. Then a question about Gideon, the cavalier, thus arrangement in the style of a fencing ring. The last arrangement follow a question about Ianthe's motives for Corona and they are playing cards- both a classic trope symbolizing a battle of wits and a metaphor for Ianthe holding secrets (cards) that she has to reveal one by one (via @the-light-of-stars)

@transbutchbluess, @gwydionmisha also ID'd the greek symposium scene as a parody of a socratic/platonic dialogue, which "presents a discussion of moral and philosophical problems between two or more individuals illustrating the application of the Socratic method." (via wikipedia)

> continuing with the theme of theatre, @valence-positive also mentioned that the servants thumping the coffins at the same time after each question may be a theatre technique to underscore Pal's question; @winged made the connection to bells/gavels/gongs, which are often used for judgement (which occurs during the discussion of Babs' murder and Ianthe's intent/endgame.)

the coffin thumping might also be a reference to the bell toll in A Christmas Carol (via @winged again, you have a huge brain); it's also implied that Pal's visits parallel the three ghosts who visit Scrooge and induce a moral awakening:

"IANTHE Five minutes to midnight, I'd say. You can't last much longer, and we both know it. PAL You said that three visits ago." (p483)

vs the original novella by Charles Dickens (taken from sparknotes again):

“You (scrooge) will be haunted… by Three Spirits… Without their visits,” said the Ghost, “you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls One…. “Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third, upon the next night when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!”

Pal makes Ianthe realise that Babs' soul has been slowly fusing with hers all along, which is similar what the third ghost does in ACC:

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come leads Scrooge through a sequence of mysterious scenes relating to an unnamed man's recent death...Scrooge, anxious to learn the lesson of his latest visitor, begs to know the name of the dead man. After pleading with the ghost, Scrooge finds himself in a churchyard, the spirit pointing to a grave. Scrooge looks at the headstone and is shocked to read his own name."

Finally, like other references in TUG (An Inspector Calls, Dulcie's Hamlet quote), A Christmas Carol criticises the treatment of a disadvantaged class. AIC and ACC both end with the characters faced with the morality of their actions. (intertextuality! delicious)

I also thought the thumping was similar to the synchronisation thing we see in ntn:

"[Ianthe] flounced up the dais, threw herself back into her chair—the dead bodies jerked their left hips convulsively, all in unison" (Nona the Ninth, p335)

Ok that’s it thank u for reading the whole thing ???? And thank you so much for contributing guys! Feel free to leave a reply or dm me if you have any additions <3

#the unwanted guest spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #most revisions/additions will be further down in the post!#im surrounded by big brains here and i love it #the locked tomb meta #the unwanted guest #the locked tomb #text

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theillustraitor · 8 days ago

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Finally finished revising my ideas for post-AGIT Dan! It's under the cut, and it is similar to what I wrote out before(so if any of y'all read that much of the below will probably sound familiar).

The chart is so y’all can see the Dan ref next to Danny and Vlad. He’s meant to be a pretty even mix of them design wise, and I'm pretty proud about the blend :]

If there are any questions I’d love to answer them(whether about the specific story stuff below or if there’s anything else y’all are curious about with my ideas for him)! In spite of my fixation on the college trio, I think about Dan a ton lol

(This takes place in the range of about 2.5 weeks to 3 months after AGIT)

Dan’s clone body started destabilizing pretty soon after AGIT. With some convincing Danny and Dani agreed to use the ecto-dejecto to stabilize him(Dani still needs it so that’s why she had it/had to give permission. She sympathized with Dan melting.) Vlad was also hiding that Dan didn’t really mean anything he’s said about improving, and Dan was of course himself lying about it. That’s why Danny/Dani agreed to help(Dan does eventually become genuine, but this blurb will mostly focus on why Dan looks the way he does instead of his character development).

It worked, but Dan destabilizes so frequently that he goes through a lot of dejecto. His ghost form is really different from the clone, and has a lot more power than the clone can handle. The dejecto is also unable to be reproduced because 1) Vlad could not crack what tf Jack did to make it in the first place, and 2) There’s no way Jack would agree to make more(not that he even would remember how to replicate a failed experiment that would help ghosts). Giant problem for both Dan and Dani, because if they use it all, that’s it. They’ll melt into nothing.

This led Vlad to try another method to hopefully permanently stabilize Dan or at least reduce the amount of dejecto he needs(Vlad figures his ghost part should theoretically make up for the original stability problem of the Danny clones). Vlad started working on editing the clone to both age it up, and create a stable mix of his and Danny’s DNA that would allow the clone body to more closely resemble Dan’s ghost form and hopefully increase its capacity for ectoplasmic energy.

This was actually going pretty well and was slowly reducing the amount of dejecto Dan needed, but it wasn’t going fast enough. Vlad feels enough guilt over Dani by this point in time to be concerned for her well being, so once again is trying to find another alternate way to stabilize Dan faster. He comes to the insane conclusion to convert the ectoplasmic nature of Dan’s clone body into flesh. The bodies not matching wouldn’t matter then, and it obviously couldn’t melt anymore(note, the reason he doesn’t think to do this process directly to Dan’s ghost is because he still needs an anchor to not disappear from time. Being made of meat won’t fix that, so the best option is to keep him inhabiting a body. Even that aside, there could possibly be irreversable/undesirable side effects).

By the time Vlad is successful enough with testing to implement it with Dan’s body, he looks like what he looks in my design. He’s roughly 17-18, and really hates the idea of being stuck that age. However with a lot of convincing from Jazz and Vlad he finally agrees to allow Vlad to convert his clone body(convincing includes that he could finally go in public without any worrying(Jazz), he could have a bit of youth/being a kid to have fun with(Jazz), the obvious fact of not destabilizing(Jazz/Vlad), he’ll get a longer life(Vlad), and Vlad secretly mentions that Dan could get away with a lot more if he is young).

Vlad then goes ahead with it(Dan temporarily moves into another body to ensure only the clone body would be affected). Vlad is left pretty exhausted, but the conversion was a great success. Dan finds that it’s a bit tingly and is still like he’s possessing the body, however otherwise it feels pretty great.

Some later stuff:

- Dan finds that unlike before, he can turn into his ghost form halfa-style(not for too long though as he’ll start destabilizing time-wise).

- He eventually attends Casper High(of his own volition, though Jazz encourages it). Vlad puts him in Danny, Tucker, and Sam’s class. This is also when he gets his jacket; he joins the football team, but seeing as he still despises the popular kids he gets Sam to dye it black.

- He’s honestly a menace at Casper, especially to the popular kids, but Dash still thinks he’s cool 😭

#danny phantom #dp #dark dan #traitor's au

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chiscribbs · 1 year ago

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Updated Future Donnie Concept Art!!!

So, I've been hesitant to try my hand at designing an Apocalyptic Future version of Donnie for a while, for a number of reasons - mainly that I just didn't have a clear idea of him in my brain yet and the thought of attempting to update his already pretty perfect design was highly daunting - but I finally caved and decided to take a crack at it. A couple months and several revisions later, I'm actually genuinely happy with the result. I'd still consider this "concept art" more so than a final design, elements of it could definitely be improved, but I really do like the concept as a whole - I think it could work!

The main goals I had in mind while working on this were: A. Must fit the character/look like something Donnie would canonically wear and still be easily recognizable. B. Must work in the Rise world & style (i.e. not be overly detailed or have too complex a silhouette.) C. Must fit in with the other (canonical) Future Rise designs.

I was also thinking about what problems Donnie might be trying to solve, which is what inspired the belt (more info on that below). All-in-all, although there might still be a few kinks to work out, I think I managed to come up with a pretty solid base design for my favorite Warring Warrior Scientist (Jr.)

Some additional character tidbits under the cut.

Also, I can't draw mechanisms to save my life, so just pretend those vague ninpo-gun-things make sense lol

Donnie has a mechanical prosthetic leg. How'd he lose that leg? Up to interpretation - my working theory is that it was a minefield accident that occurred when he was trying to blow some Krang dogs to Timbuktu. Naturally, since it's Donnie and they are in the midst of an alien apocalypse, he designed the leg to do a whole lot more than just help him stand without falling down. It's a multifunctional tool that contains a plethora of secret uses - including, but certainly not limited to, sawing off ugly Krang faces. It's essentially his new tech bo.

Bonus leg tidbit: Casey Jr. saw him deploy the saw blade in battle once when he was little, he then proceeded to beg for a saw-leg of his own to fight the Krang with. Donnie, realizing that amputating a perfectly healthy child's leg is probably not that most morally acceptable option, instead made him his own "sawing stick"(AKA, his motorized hockey stick)...which the others then made him wait until Casey's 10th birthday to give him.

The belt that Donnie's wearing here is a prototype of his latest invention. Its intended purpose: to deflect the Krang's mystic-blocking attacks, allowing them to use their ninpo in close combat. It took a lot of risk-taking to collect the necessary information to create such a device, and he experienced a number of way-too-close calls (one of which may or may not have resulted in that large gash across his plastron), but he finally managed to crack the code and pinpoint the frequency of the Krang's sound waves. He's testing it out right now to make sure that it works and is safe to use, but once it's out of beta, he plans to mass-produce them for every mystic-wielder in the Resistance to use in battle. He believes it could turn the tides of the war...unfortunately, the device never makes it out of beta, as he dies before its completion.

Donnie's gloves are fashioned after the ones his dad used to wear in his Lou Jitsu days (with some modifications, for comfort and to make working with screens a little easier and less annoying.) The material they're made out of is far more durable, of course, since he's working with them near-constantly and under varying conditions. But maybe he designed them to look like this as a way of keeping his dad's memory close, similar to Leo's sword hilt?

Ironically, Donnie uses his ninpo probably the most consistently out of all the brothers (even though Mikey uses his to the greatest extent, hence his rapid aging). He's constantly using it to check on the base's security status and multitask while working on other projects. Because his ninpo takes a good deal of brain power to operate, it puts a significant amount of strain on his nervous system and this causes frequent complications. Seizures, spasms, and blackouts become a semi-regular occurrence - especially in the latter part of his life. Donnie does his best to manage them, but the workload makes it almost impossible to do so properly. Mikey is able to help with these attacks when they happen, but Donnie - not wanting his brother to overuse his powers any more than he is already - usually opts to just ride it out and save the mystic healing for people who need it. The exception to this rule being when he's in the middle of an extremely important procedure and can't stop long enough to let the attack pass naturally, then he has no choice but to accept Mikey's aid.

This is probably needless to say at this point, but much like Leo and his other brothers, he is a giant. Equal in height to Leo (if not slightly taller, even without the goggles.) The doodle in the top-left corner of the sketch page where he's next to April is meant to be them sitting, so don't take it as anywhere near an accurate representation of their height comparison. It is not, he dwarfs her by several feet, lol.

#rottmnt #donatello hamato #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #future donnie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt future timeline #tw: amputation #Sort of. You don't see anything but if half a leg freaks you out best not to look.#fanart #concept art #character design #chiscribbs #Heavily referenced Krang because Idk how to draw them yet WOOTWOOT

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meanbossart · 8 months ago

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Lore Ask Compilation: "Every Other Question Is About The Drow's Dick" edition

Oh I LOVE Minthara, her dialogue is absolutely fascinating and in my opinion some of the best written In the game. Experiencing her in my Evil Durge playthrough without having been spoiled to her companion scenes prior was great - the amount of depth they managed to add to her, without it at all feeling forced or rushed, and considering how much less time she gets to develop at our side is really well done. While nearly everyone's quests had me immersed, she was one of the few characters who really made me pause and think about the things she had to say to me, what she truly meant by them, and what they meant for me as an avatar doing an evil run.

We have a lot of characters in this game that are meant to be full of wisdom and experience, who are meant to be the ones who say the right thing at the right time that inspires us to make the correct choices, but I don't think either Halsin or Jaheira (and I love Jaheira) made me feel like I knew so little about life quite as Minthara did.

And, of course, she's absolutely hysterical. 10/10 I wish she had a proper companion quest past being rescued but I understand why she doesn't.

[MORE ASKS UNDER THE CUT]

It doesn't connect to the urethra since the slit in on top, so he nuts and pisses normal.

Also you 100% are not sorry, stop lying to me.

Man, I thought a lot about this one because I play so fast and loose with the content the game gives us that I'm positive there must be SOMETHING I'm completely disregarding, but I couldn't think of anything! I've chosen to pick slightly less obvious interpretations to some lines and text but nothing that completely deviates from canon, I don't think. If anyone has noticed something I neglected to mention, feel free to let me know - not because I want to revise it, but just because I'm curious!

For the second part of the question, not really. Larian did a great job of giving us plenty of room to play around in the dark urge's background, I think I'm yet to see something that I find to truly "not fit" in the ample freedom they've given us. I have my preferences, of course - I'm shocked to find that most dark urge's are NOT big hulking beasts, for example - in fact that seems to be the minority by far, but I realize that I have my... Uh... Biases.

You can see a cute little divot through the fabric if you look closely LOL

And nah, I think his penis has seen enough sharp points for a lifetime.

Well.

Unless someone decided to add some bite-marks to it.

HMMM, I... Don't think so.

He didn't cry as a baby, he didn't cry as a child (and this isn't something I just decided on now - this is a major reason why his foster drow mother even kept him around) he didn't really cry growing up or at any point during the campaign. I think he is capable of it - sadness in him just tends to be far more confusing a feeling than anything else.

He will have emotional moments in ANE, whether or not that will culminate in crying is something you will have to wait to find out LOL

Astarion has noticed this and just took it as a character trait - the drow doesn't cry, he just gets confused, angry, frustrated or simply bottles it up. While he can be demanding of his emotional maturity, he isn't going to try and dictate how he should experience his own feelings. If it did happen it would definitely catch him majorly off-guard, perhaps even shift the perception he has of him to a certain extent.

Oh my god you just know they All managed to be utterly quiet about it for as long as humanly (and unhumanly) possible until like, I don't even know, halfway through the Shadow-cursed lands where one day Karlach finally turns back to the group around the campfire after a half-nude drow has strut past and she's like "SO

"DOES ANYONE KNOWS WHY HIS DICK HAS A SNATCH"

And Wyll is like :0... Karlach you can't just ask people that.

And then she pointedly turns to Astarion and starts trying to interrogate him on how it works while Gale covers his ears and Shadowheart is like:

This is gonna blow you guys backwards but he does not do those things in front of people and thinks its rude if you do.

HMMM Mostly physically but it's a little subtle. He really enjoys interacting with Astarion's (and previously Orin's) hands - kissing, holding, caressing. Touching hair and faces as well. He can engage in more overt physical affection but usually Astarion has to be the one to initiate.

A disarmingly earnest proclamation of love and adoration here and there as well - he isn't shy in the slightest to tell people how he feels about them, he just isn't constantly reminding them of it unless inspiration strikes.

Most of all I think he expects his loved-ones to see his care for them in his tendency to go out of his way to help them achieve their goals.

He went with them to the Shadow-cursed lands but I never helped him fix the curse, so he stayed behind when the gang went onwards to the city. DU Drow didn't really like him so it was good-riddance as far as he was concerned.

If he had come along and propositioned him during act 3 - uh, you know the really mean rejection line you have as a choice during that dialogue? Yeah, that one lmao.

Alas, DU drow is just monogamous. He could entertain group-sex with a partner for fun at the most, but not ever a third person in the relationship. And In my personal interpretation (but by all means - everyone else have fun with their poly arrangements!) of Astarion and his delivery of the "this is about Halsin" line, I also thought he was lying about being comfortable with it, so I write him as monogamous as well.

Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Say what you'd like about Bhaal but he sure knows how sculpt them out of his murder-meat.

(Thank you!!!)

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #bg3 spoilers

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exeggcute · 11 months ago

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well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

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roomwithanopenfire · 6 months ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog and @artsyunderstudy!!

This week I’ve done the big three: writing, editing, and ignoring my wips, with perhaps a bit more of the last one than I’d like. Most of my writing this week has been for an exchange fic for a different fandom, which I finally finished the rough draft of. Cue the celebration. However, even if I wanted to share anything from that, I can’t, it must remain hush-hush, but I am getting pretty excited to share it (and way more excited about receiving my own exchange fic back, this whole thing is very fun).

I’ve written less than 300 words on my COBB this week, and none of them are good, but I have gotten some editing done of Proof of Life. I can’t share any more snippets of the next chapter though because I’ve shared too much already. So instead, I figured I’d do a bit of a process post this time around, because I always love reading those. Check that out under the cut! (and i'm sorry this is long, i still have not learned brevity)

So my editing process isn’t too crazy, and is brought to you almost entirely by google docs comments. I also use the word ‘editing’ very loosely to encompass rewriting, revising, and proofreading. Sometimes editing means completely rewriting a scene/section, sometimes it just means switching around a couple of words or cleaning up a sentence.

Mostly, I try not to take everything so seriously, because I know that I could edit something forever and ever and never post it if I let myself get too carried away. So I try to keep everything pretty chill. So here’s my steps I go through for each chapter that I edit.

Step One: Reread the whole chapter. While I do this, I’ll leave comments on big picture things. “Maybe move this scene into the next chapter” or “The dialogue in this scene feels stilted” but I don’t add a lot of comments at this point. Once I’m done with this I’ll copy over any comments I had on the first draft or the beta reader copy over into the ‘draft two’ document.

Step Two: COMMENTS. Again, my fics are brought to you by google doc comments. I like to go through from the bottom up, reading scene by scene and leaving comments on pretty much every single sentence.

A lot of the time (read: most of the time) these are really vague like:

And sometimes these are more detailed like:

And occasionally these are compliments

Step Three: Once the whole chapter is filled with comments, I go through scene by scene (in whatever order speaks to me), and rewrite, edit, or fix sections. This part I find really fun, because I’m taking parts that aren’t good yet and I’m making them better. I love fixing things and getting rid of all the comments. It typically ends up being a lot of rewriting, but I always finish a scene feeling better about it then when I started.

For example, here’s the draft one vs. draft two version of a snippet from the first chapter of Proof of Life. This is one of the scenes I pretty much rewrote. Others look a lot more similar to their original versions.

Original:

Edited:

Step Four: Then before I post a chapter, I’ll read through the whole thing and sometimes find smaller bits to fix. Then I’ll run it through a grammar checker and ignore half of their suggestions in the name of ✨style ✨.

Overall, I feel like I have a pretty basic editing strategy and I’m really pleased with it. Even though sometimes I feel like more robust edits would make everything way better, it’s a good mix of fixing things but not spending too much time on it. I remember I spent like a month on editing the very first fic I posted at that was only 6k words. If I kept doing that for everything, I'd never post anything at all. With fanfiction, I know that y'all will be nice to me even though it's never perfect <333

Tags and Hellos!! (I'm unsure if we still need the spaces, but i've been burned too many times lol)

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @m1ndwinder @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

#one day i will make a short wipsday post #today is not the day #listen to all my ramblings everyone #look at my screenshots #i just love the sound of my voice #proof of life #my writing #editing #six sentence sunday #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz

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campgender · 4 months ago

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hey! I'm currently writing a paper discussing experiences of disabled and neurodivergent students at my uni (spoiler alert: it's not great lmao), and while I have a couple references so far (mostly Lund and Pearlstein) about the larger Disabled Student ExperienceTM I'm struggling to find academic papers talking about this, particularly since my field of study is psychology rather than disability theory/disability justice. are there any texts regarding this that you would reccommend? doing my best to lean on crip theory for this essay and you were the first person i thought of! no worries if you don't have the energy to answer this rn ofc, i hope you're having a good day ✨

omg what a fabulous & vital project! i’d love to hear more about your work both out of interest & to potentially refine my recommendations because this is such a complex, multifaceted area of experience + research + activism — i tried to draw from a variety of perspectives so you can dig deeper into what seems most relevant!

my number one recommendation is the book Academic Ableism by Jay Dolmage, i still need to read most of it rip but it’s absolutely considered foundational in this topic. the rest i’m gonna put under a cut because it got super long lol, i’ll also reblog to my disability sideblog @crippleprophet in case anyone else has suggestions!

best of luck with your work, i hope some of this is helpful! feel free to reach out for more recommendations, input, or encouragement❣️💖

on the built environment – eg, the physical campus & how it impacts students

if you’re in the US, this summary of colleges’ responsibilities under the ADA has been helpful for me (link).

Building Access by Aimi Hamraie

Accessibility for Historic Buildings: A Field Guide, 2nd Edition (link to pdf)

written by David Provost and revised by Joseph Hoefferle, Jr. as part of the University of Vermont Graduate Program in Historic Preservation

back in 2020 i used the first edition of this document in a project arguing my undergraduate university should make its historic buildings more accessible

lays out policies & options in tables with photo examples from their campus

Aimi Hamraie & Kelly Fritsch’s Crip Technoscience Manifesto (2019)

Catalyst: Feminism, Theory, Technoscience, 5(1), pp1-34.

this piece is honestly just incredibly life-giving for me in general so i highly recommend giving it a full read when you have time. specific parts that i thought might resonate with the experiences of students at your uni:

“user-initiated design” (Hendren & Lynch, cited p9)

“access as friction” (p10):

Emerging out of historical fights for disability rights, the terms accessibility and access are usually taken to mean disabled inclusion and assimilation into normative able-bodied relations and built environments. […] However, the etymology of the word access reveals two frictional meanings: access as “an opportunity enabling contact,” as well as “a kind of attack” (2016, p. 23). Taking access as a kind of attack reveals access-making as a site of political friction and contestation. While historically central to the fights for disability access, crip technoscience is nevertheless committed to pushing beyond liberal and assimilation-based approaches to accessibility, which emphasize inclusion in mainstream society, to pursue access as friction, particularly paying attention to access-making as disabled peoples’ acts of non-compliance and protest.

noncompliant users and assistive technology as friction (p11):

Lifchez and Winslow offer the concept of “non-compliant users,” illustrating this with an image of a powerchair user wheeling against traffic on a street without curb cuts (1979, p. 153). This technology-enabled movement against the flow of traffic marks anti-assimilationist crip mobility: not an attempt to integrate (as in the liberal approach to disability rights), but rather to use technology as a friction against an inaccessible environment.

collaborative mapping of (in)accessibility, something i know happens more informally among disabled students on many campuses (p15):

Unlike mainstream disability technoscience “crowdsourcing” projects, which invoke a charity model of disability wherein non-disabled people collect data but do not engage in disability culture or politics, emerging projects such as Mapping Access are making participatory access-making the basis of a kind of technoscientific “access intimacy” (Mingus, 2017) through practices such as “critical crowdsourcing” of accessibility data (Hamraie, 2018). […] Collaborative mapping visualizes the evidence of inaccessibility while creating opportunities for collective response. Crip cartographic technoscience thus enables more critical design, and interrogation of the everyday built environment.

access to education

the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities includes the right to inclusive education (Article 24). scholarship in this area is about primary & secondary education, not postsecondary / university education, but a lot of the concepts can be applied

in addition to inclusive education, “universal design for learning” (UDL) might be a helpful keyword but it definitely trends toward the liberal as a whole

“Hidden contradictions and conditionality: conceptualisations of inclusive education in international human rights law” (2013) by Bronagh Byrne (link)

references the importance of identifying barriers as a step in the process of accessible education, which depending on your work may be a nice succinct justification of its necessity (p234):

Inclusion ‘necessitates the removal of the material, ideological, political and economic barriers that legitimate and reproduce in equality and discrimination in the lives of disabled people’ (Barton and Armstrong 2001, 214). According to this view, an identification of barriers within the school’s environment, teaching and learning strategies, and attitudes that prevent the full participation of children with disabilities, will also be required.

argues for a focus on inability of schools to meet students’ needs rather than students’ inability to conform to an ableist environment (for example, p242):

International human rights law has conditionalised the right to inclusive education for children with disabilities by making inclusion contingent upon the extent of individual rather than institutional or structural deficits.

psychological/emotional impact on disabled students

“psycho-emotional disablism” may be a useful search term for you, with the disclaimer that a substantial portion of scholars in feminist disability studies are TERFs / express “gender critical” beliefs / etc. so like i’m listing one paper i came across that looked relevant + two from my grad program’s recommended reading, but i haven’t read these & suggest vetting authors before citing them:

“The psycho-emotionally disabling impact of academic landscapes of exclusion: experiences of a disabled postgraduate in perpetual lockdown” (2023) by Joanne Hunt (link)

Reeve, D (2004). Psycho-emotional dimensions of disability and the social model. In C Barnes & G Mercer (eds), Implementing the social model of disability: theory and research. The Disability Press, Leeds, pp. 83-100. http://donnareeve.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/ReeveChapter2004b.pdf

Reeve, D. (2014) 'Psycho-emotional disablism and internalised oppression', in J. Swain, S. French, C. Barnes and C. Thomas (eds) Disabling Barriers - Enabling Environments, 3rd Edition, London: Sage, pp. 92-98. http://donnareeve.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/ReeveChapter2014a.pdf

#vulpeculavolans #asks #reading lists #academic ableism #disabled student #disability studies

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audrey-carr1 · 3 months ago

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The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 7)

A/N: I'm not dead! Just overworked and underpaid lol. Anyway, this update took me a bit longer than I thought because I have rewritten the ending a total of 3 times. Honestly, this may be going under some heavy revision, but I'll keep it. Count all my mistakes for me lol.

warnings: fem!reader, Hetty X Reader, mentions of death

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Want to Read on Ao3? Click here

“What a twist! See that wasn’t so hard to admit was it?” Lydia says in a mocking tone.

I give Lydia a pointed look.

“Alright, now let’s unpack the rest, sassy pants,” Lydia says.

“I was eavesdropping on my parents. I didn’t mean to I just couldn’t find out a way to move without being noticed. They were arguing about me and my friendship with Arabella and how our friendship was going to bring nothing but trouble,”

Once more a bright light overwhelms my eyes, and I am back to my childhood standing in my parent’s study as they argue quietly.

—--------

“They were bound to be friends, they share more than just a neighborhood,” My mother says.

Don’t you think I know that? But what happens if they are found out? Dale’s entire fortune would be wiped clean. They wouldn’t have a pot to piss in,” My father says.

“I told you 15 years ago that this was going to end poorly,” My mother responds.

“I was helping a friend! If they did not have an heir to their fortune, he was going to be cut out of the will, and they needed the money,” My father hisses.

“I know that! I said I was okay with that, but the other end of that deal was that they were supposed to move to avoid this happening,” My mother shoots back.

“So what do you want me to do? Break up their friendship of fifteen years? Think of our daughter,”

“I am thinking of my daughter! Now imagine how she would feel if she were to find out that her best friend is actually her sister. Imagine the public scrutiny that would cause on every family involved. We lied to make sure that it looked like the child was his. We did some very sketchy things, and if that was found out-”

“I know this!” My father shouts in a whisper.

—-------

I’m brought back to the beach, and Lydia is looking at me with expectant eyes.

“I kept quiet to prevent the scandal my parents wanted to avoid so much. So what? There isn’t any resolving needed there,” I tell Lydia.

“Doesn’t that feel good getting that off of your chest?” Lydia says

I narrow my eyes at her, “How is me talking about the past going to help me get back home?”

“Have you ever wondered how one event changed the trajectory of your life,”

“Sometimes when I’m in a 3 am spiral in the comfort of MY HOME,” I emphasize.

“Would you change it?” Lydia asks

“Change what?” I ask.

“Your past? If you could change your past and give yourself a new future would you?” Lydia repeats her statement once more.

I don’t have time to answer before the light returns.

—-----

When the light fades, and my eyes adjust I find myself in a neighborhood. I’m dressed in my college sweatshirt and rolled jeans with my favorite pair of white sneakers. I look around taking in my surroundings, and I can’t help but notice it resembles the neighborhhod I grew up in.

“Because this is the neighborhood you grew up in. Now go inside,” Lydia says and then she disappears.

I turn the knob to the front door, and it opens. The familiar scent of home hits my nostrils bringing back memories, that were so long forgotten. It feels so different but it’s exactly how I left it. I haven’t been back since after my parent's funeral. I’m sure the place is collecting dust. Tears spring to my eyes, and I quickly wipe them away when I hear footsteps approaching.

“Oh look you’re home!” My mom says. Her hands are covered in flour. She must have been cooking.

“I am home…why are you here- I mean home…now…at this particular time?” I quickly try to cover my words.

Mom tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“I’m always here at this time,” She says

I pull out my phone and check the time. She is usually home at this, so nothing odd there is nothing odd about that. I nearly drop the phone when I see the year 2024 staring back at me.

She wipes her hand on her apron coming to play a hand on my forehead to see if I have a temperature.

“Are you okay sweetie? You look a bit worn,” She says.

“I um…I got go and lie down,” I say racing to my room.

I nearly knock the door off its hinges when I open it and accidentally slam it shut.

“Holy fucking shit. Holy shit! What this can’t be happening. What is happening,” I ask myself out loud.

I begin pacing in my bedroom floor, trying to figure out what was going on. I pinch myself, and I discover that I am in fact not dreaming. A knocking on my door brings me from my thoughts.

“Sweetie, are you okay in there? Your mom says you're acting weirdly,”

“You’re here too?” I say a little louder than expected.

“Well, I do live here. Are you sure you’re okay? Is something going on?”

I quickly move to hold the door closed, “No just a little uh headache is all nothing to be worried about!”

“Alright, well if you say so,” Dad says. I slump against the door.

“This is happening. I’m home!” I think to myself.

I go through my room looking for photo albums, and I find them on the lower part of a bookshelf. I grabbed the one starting in 2018, the year my parents died. I open the book and I see it’s flooded with pictures of me with my parents. A couple of pictures of Nadine and Riley are sprinkled in too. I lay that book to the side, and grab the following year’s photobook. One followed right after the other until I was caught up.

After hours of going through my room, I hear my mom call my name telling me it’s time for dinner. I get become nervous. I haven’t had dinner with my parents in years, what if they ask about what’s been going on in life? What do I tell them?

Instead of creating more suspicion, I go downstairs to meet my parents in the dining room.

“Are you feeling better?” Dad asks.

“Much thank you,” I reply.

“That is good to hear, I was worried all my cooking would have gone to waste,” My mom sitting down in the chair next to me.

I take a moment to look at my parents. They haven’t changed much besides the signs of age. A couple of grey streaks in my Mom’s hair, and my Dad’s hair has gone full grey instead of it’s usual salt-and-pepper look.

“You seem to be in deep thought,” Dad says scooping some salad onto his plate.

“Just really happy to be home right now,” I say.

Mom grabs my hand and squeezes it. I move closer to embrace her in a hug. I don’t fight the tears that fall.

—-------

End of January

Hetty has been up for hours scouring her brain for hours for an idea on how to bring her love back home.

“What about a seance?” Hetty asks.

“But she’s not dead…technically,” Trevor points out.

“A reverse seance we could try that. Send me to her, and I can find a way to guide her back.”

“Hetty if that were to work that would be dangerous. You could end up trapped yourself,”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Hetty says not budging.

“Hetty what if it doesn’t work?” Alberta asks a bit concerned.

Now Hetty was getting annoyed, “Am I supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs like some fool?”

Everyone sits in silence for a moment contemplating what Hetty has said.

Isaac finally speaks up, “Hetty we cannot risk losing you both, we won’t send you,”

Hetty storms off, returning to your room, and lays on the bed you two once shared. She wishes the bed still shared your scent, but time has caused it to fade. Her chest aches, and all she does now is sit and wait for your return. She learns your condition doesn’t worsen, but it doesn’t turn for better either. Yesterday she searched the ground fearing that when you hit the ghost boundary you had somehow gotten stuck somewhere. It took Thor having to carry her back to the house for Hetty realize she had been searching from sun-up till sundown. Her feet ached once Thor had set her down on the couch and begged Hetty not to do that again. Instead, he would search for her, and Pete was more than happy to go along. Hetty was hopeful once they said it and prayed that even a hint of your presence was found. When they returned empty-handed, Hetty didn’t leave your room for two days.

Hetty had never experienced this kind of grief before. Grieving for a lover is something that Hetty was not familiar with. She was heartbroken when she and her painter had to call things off, she practically rejoiced when she found Elias had no happy ending, but now she is in despair. Her days seem bleak without you in the home.

She feels as if she is in one of those tragic novels she used to read, never to escape. Doomed to rot.

She tries to keep up with the ghosts, but she cannot shake the feeling of you. She knows that you are out there, it’s like you are tugging on her heart pulling her in your direction. Hetty just cannot figure out which way to start. Hetty turns to her side and tries to sleep.

—-

In the living room, the rest of the ghosts continue to ponder Hetty’s request.

“What if she’s right? What if she can bring her back?” Pete asks.

“What if she’s wrong, and Hetty gets stuck in who knows where?” Isaac points out.

“How do we know that she is in there?” Flower asks

“We don’t but how will we know if we don’t try,” Pete replies.

“Haven’t we lost enough? What happens if Hetty gets stuck over wherever it is we might send her” Alberta says.

“We can ponder these questions all night long, but it won’t change anything. I’m afraid that Hetty may even try to do it herself,” Trevor says, “Once she puts her mind to something she won’t stop until she gets it.”

Still having not reached a consensus, the ghosts stand around each other. Just as puzzled as before.

—-----

I went to sleep in my own bed, and I awake back on the beach dressed in the nightgown I had gone to bed in. I can’t shake the feeling of disappointment I feel. Now that I’m back without my parents, it’s like I’m grieving them all over again. Lydia’s questions weigh heavy on my mind. If I had the option to choose that future, would I take it?

I shake the thought from my head. No. I need to get back to Woodstone. Back to my friends. Back to Hetty.

“So you are the half-ling everyone has been talking about,” A voice says.

I turn in the direction of the voice and see a dark figure. I don’t even have to guess who they might be, “So I’ve been told. You must be Death.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Death says holding out a hand. I look at it, but I do not take it.

“You are upset,” Death says putting their hand back at their side.

“Do not patronize me,” I grumble.

“I would do no such thing,” Death says.

“Yet here you are,” Your eyes don’t leave them watching for any sudden movements.

“I am sure Lydia explained to you that you had a decision to make,” Death says

“She did and then she disappeared. How convenient,” I yell hoping Lydia could hear me wherever she went.

“Oh, you are a spitfire. Just like that Hetty of yours,” Death says.

My head whips around at the sound of her name.

“Oh, that struck a nerve didn’t it?” Death teases.

“I swear if you,” I say my jaw is clenched and my hands balled into fists.

“If I what? She’s dead, what could I possibly do to her? Take it down a notch, I’m not going to hurt you or any of your little friends. Living or dead,” Death says.

“What do you want from me?” I ask

“I want you to stop being stubborn, and come with me,” Death replies

“I do not want to. I want to go home,” I say, “That is all I want. Is to be with my friends at home.”

“Home. You humans get so attached,” Death spat, “The place you want to go isn’t your home. You knew that the moment you saw mommy and daddy,”

“I have lived a life without them. I will be fine going back. Now if we could please,”

“I only want the truth, and the sooner you get it to me. The sooner you get what you want. Otherwise, you come with me,” Death says.

—---

Back at the manor

After one more night of consideration, the ghosts decide this may be their best bet to bring you home. If you are indeed lost, then you would need guidance to get back to the other side.

The seance is held the following night with a full moon. Items belonging to you lay in a pile on the table. The ghosts surround Hetty in a circle joining their hands and begin chanting.

Sam enters the room and stops just at the entrance. “Hey, what’s with all of the - What is going on?”

Sam can't get an answer before Hetty is enveloped in light and disappears before their eyes.

“What did you guys just do?!” Sam asks looking at the ghosts who also can’t believe what they just did.

—------------

Annoyed I say, “I have told you what I would like, so if you could get to soul swappy thing that would be great,”

Death doesn’t move, and neither do I. We both wait, watching the other to see whose bluff would be called first.

“You really are stubborn aren’t you,” Death mumbles.

“You have no idea,” A voice from behind says.

“Hello, I am right here,” I say quickly not registering who had replied. I stand still for a moment. I know that voice. I turn around, and there she is. I have to have to be hallucinating. I must be hallucinating. She says my name, and I know this is real. She’s here with me. My heart feels like it could fly from my chest.

“Hetty!” I exclaim.

My feet take off to meet her. Hetty’s arms are outstretched, and I nearly topple her with the force of my body weight. She grabs me by the waist and pulls me in immediately peppering kisses all over my face but delivering a kiss to my lips. A kiss so full of passion, it takes my breath away. Her hands tug at me, and I pull her in closer.

Hetty breaks the kiss and embraces me in a bear grip of a hug, “My darling! I have missed you so much. These past couple of weeks have been unbearable with you,”

“I have missed you!” I pull away from the bug and give her another kiss.

“These past couple of weeks” Hetty’s words echo in my mind.

“Weeks? What do you mean weeks? It’s only been a day,” I say to her.

Hetty looks at me a sadness returning to her eyes. Her thumb runs over my cheek, and a tear escapes her eye.

She takes a steadying breath before she speaks, “Darling, it’s been almost 3 weeks, since the incident. ”

“3 weeks? That means it’s almost February,” I exclaim, “A day hasn’t passed here, the sun never set. There is no way I’ve been here for weeks. That’s impossible.”

Noticing that I was spiraling, Death speaks up, “The sun will never set here. It never will.”

“I’ve been here for weeks?” The question is mainly for myself as I wrap my brain around all of this. Then another question pops into my head.

“Hetty how did you get here? You shouldn’t be here,” I say.

“Finally you and I are on the same page,” Death says.

Hetty scoffs and turns me to face her. Both of her hands are on my shoulder steadying as she looks me in the eye.

“Don’t worry about how I got here, just know that I am taking you home,” Hetty says.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Death says coming to towards us.

“And why the hell not?” Hetty looks up and her eyes are on Death’s form. A cold shock runs through Hetty, but she tries not show it. Instead, Hetty grasps my arm to move me of the way.

“Henrietta Woodstone, how lovely it is to see you,” Death says.

“Oh now we want to do greetings? What is it that you want with her?” Hetty asks.

“She’s coming with me,” Death says.

“I see you are sorely mistaken, she is coming home with me,” Henrietta says tightening the grip she has on my arm.

Death laughs, “I have no time for games, and my patience is wearing quite thin.”

“I have told you that I want to go home. That is my decision that is my hold up?”

“You cannot lie to me. The home you are trying to return to is not the home you seek,”

Death pauses. I feel my heart hammer in my chest a dull roar of blood in my ears.

“You want to be with your parents. That’s what home is to you. The sooner you stop denying that the sooner we can all get on with your lives,” Death says a tone of annoyance in their voice.

“Your parents?” Hetty asks

“It’s nothing, just some little mind trick they do. Don’t worry about it,” I brush off the comment.

“No, tell me please,” Hetty asks. I cannot deny her request, I never have been able to.

“I saw a future of what it was like if my parents were still alive,” Isay

“And?” Hetty asks.

Though the answer is on the tip of my tongue, I delay it. I try to look down, but Hetty tilts my chin up to meet her eyes. Her eyes tell me that she is expectant of an answer.

“I loved it,” I say in a hushed whisper. I never thought I would feel ashamed for missing my parents.

“And that is what you want?” Hetty asks.

“No! No, Hetty, I want you and Woodstone Manor. That is my home,” I say hurriedly

“Darling,” Hetty cups the side of my face, “It’s okay to want your parents,”

I can’t find the right words to speak, so I just shake my head hoping that she would believe me.

Hetty looks over my head and in Death’s direction, “If she were to choose this alternative future…”

“You wouldn’t remember her in your world, and she wouldn’t remember you in hers. It’ll be like you never crossed paths. If she doesn’t choose, she dies. Simple,” Death says.

-End of Part 7-

#cbs ghosts #hetty woodstone #hettyxreader #hetty woodstone x reader #ao3 fanfic #fem reader

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my-mt-heart · 4 months ago

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Thoughts on the 206 Spoilers

I probably don't need to mention again that what's written on the page can translate differently on screen for a number of reasons — acting choices, editing choices, reshoots we aren't aware of. We know that. Some of us felt that with the opening minutes (if you want to read my page-to-screen analysis on that, you can do so here). But I also know changes don't always happen unless I'm willing to tell the people in charge why I want them in the first place. I believe the 201 revisions happened because we talked about it. I'll admit I don't know how fixable the 206 scenes are, and frankly the underlying issue aside from the writing is the writer, but I still want to talk about it because if Caryl's story is going to continue for however many more years, their fanbase has to feel like the storytelling is worth both the emotional and the financial investment. These sides don't help with that. Spoilers under the cut...

I want to start by clearing up some confusion I saw in the original post about Carol's scenes being crossed out. It doesn't mean her scenes were deleted; it just means they weren't shot on the same day as the other scenes on the pages. We don't have all the tunnel beats, but what we do have appears to be in chronological order for the most part, so that gives us a close enough look at how the tunnel scenes are being framed. The framing is what's troubling because Daryl and Carol are in their own separate corners, breathing in poison gas, losing their will to live, but never turn to each other (or thoughts of each other) to keep fighting for each other like their entire story since the start of the flagship show, the tagline "to find home is to find each other," and the SDCC synopsis would have us believe.

Carol is looking for closure with Sophia which I understand, although it's extremely underwhelming and it still doesn't explain what's tethering her to this world. For Daryl, it's the figment of Isabelle that represents his hope. Their bond, not Daryl's and Carol's, gets to carry the emotional weight of those scenes. I can't even begin to make sense of Isabelle being Daryl's savior and motivation to keep going while his brief interaction with Carol at the end may as well be between him and his mailman. Side note: I guess the poison gas isn't so poisonous anymore? Why are they having a conversation without masks lol

Okay, they leave together, but as what? Strangers? Is this where I'm supposed to get hyped for S3? Because Caryl will be in the same proximity while Zabel keeps them emotionally detached from one another? That's not the Caryl show I want to tune in for. I want their show to make their relationship the emotional core and I want to see their romantic feelings for each other become explicitly canon. They have so much shared trauma and so much shared history that hasn't been thoroughly explored. When do we get to see that?

I understand how ridiculous all of these concerns sound when we factor in Melissa's input and the excitement she showed at SDCC. I'm not discounting that at all (@9lives2mics posted a really great overview of the PR strategy for SDCC, which I highly recommend listening to btw). What I'm trying to get at is, as far as the material goes, Zabel's vision for his original characters and his original premise seem to be dragging down the story that Melissa and even Norman are trying to tell for their characters. There were even several instances in their interviews where McReedus didn't seem to be on the same page as Zabel and Greg Nicotero. It's disheartening because if the latter two can get away with shooting what we see in these sides and making a trailer centered on Daryl's French family, what's going to make the final cuts? Do I want to find out?

Final thought: If you're going to make allusions to gas chambers, then the scenes need to amount to a hell of a lot more than shipbaiting and being artsy. Otherwise, it's just tone deaf.

#jfc #caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #daryl dixon #norman reedus #the book of carol #twd caryl #twd spoilers

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captainjamster · 1 year ago

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hihi!! I just seen your post about writing things for those who feel under represented in the community; and I was wondering... could you do one where Simon takes care of trans masc!reader on a really bad day of endometriosis pain?

Hey there anon, you're the very first request! Thank you so much for asking! This was originally going to be just 800 words, don't ask how we ended up at almost 3k lol. Sorry it took a few days, I hope you enjoy the fic! It's also on AO3 :)

Pairing(s): Ghost x transmasc!Reader w/ endometriosis (SFW) Warnings: Blood, menstruation, two off-handed mentions of sex Wordcount: 2.8k Summary: Simon takes care of your morning, despite your attempts to soldier on through a painful menstrual cycle. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I hope this is enough "taking care" for you! Reader is indeed transmasc, but point of transition and upper anatomy is for you to decide. I might revise this one and upload an improved version, change the level of debilitation, add in HRT and increase how much Ghost does for you. But for now, here you go!! I think of Ghost as someone who conveys his love and affection through acts of service, and he'd die happy if you let him quietly manage every need you have. <3

Endometriosis currently affects around 10% - around 190 million – of women and girls of reproductive age. This statistic does not include the rate of endometriosis in non-women individuals with female reproductive genitals, which inflates the number even further. Despite the existing prevalence, endometriosis is underdiagnosed and overlooked within those who suffer from it, and this becomes even worse within trans individuals. I hope this fic can provide some love and representation for those struggling, especially my trans ppl <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

A dull throb in your stomach, pressed against the mattress is the first thing you register as consciousness slowly trickles through the thick fog of sleep. The sheets stick to your thighs as you try to roll over. Simon’s bulky, warm figure isn’t there to stop you from rotating flat on your back, encroaching onto his cold, empty spot.

You crack an eye open, looking at his vacancy in disappointment. The room is filled with an early, pale glow that peeks from around your curtains, brushing against the frame with each soft breeze from the open window. It’s not unusual for Simon to be up so early, but you miss the opportunity for morning cuddles.

A particularly sharp contraction in your stomach breaks the peaceful moment, your hand coming up to knead at the sore, bloated flesh. The last few days had left you in a pool of pain, the familiar ache creeping into your stomach and worming its way down your legs and up your back. Accompanied by the unsettling nausea and fatigue that wears you out even during a nap, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that your least favourite friend would be making a visit this week.

Rolling back onto your stomach, you sit with the uncomfortable sensation throbbing through your midriff. It takes a moment for the damp, coldness beneath your pelvis to register, contrasted to the dry sheet your back was just resting on. Your eyes fly open, pushing yourself up and back onto your knees with a pained groan.

Even such a simple movement has a strong wave of pain flare through you, but your dismay at the mess staining your sheets is stronger. Your friend has arrived earlier and heavier than expected. The dark grey sheet is soaked in patches of black, tacky enough that you know it’s had more than plenty of time to steep into the fabric – thank god for the mattress protector Simon persuaded you into getting for other activities. Looking down, your skin is dappled with red, crusty and dried around the hairs scattering your stomach. The worst is pooled between your thighs, boxer-briefs drenched with a sharp iron scent that crinkles your nose.

Pushing through the wave of dizziness persuading you to the floor, you grab at the blankets frustratedly. You check them meticulously, scrutinizing them for even a speck of blood, but they’ve been far luckier in their escape of your mess. Throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, you set into action, working to hide the messy consequences of your cycle.

There’s no real need for the urgency that you move with, especially as every aching fibre in your body screams at you to slow down. Rationally, you know Simon wouldn’t react poorly to your calamity in the slightest, even if you asked him to change the sheets while you cleaned yourself up. He’s stayed with you during other cycles, never blinking an eye at anything menstruation throws at you. Yet he’s not here to help, and interrupting whatever he’s doing just to do something you feel capable of seems selfish. On another level, you don’t want Simon to see this right now. Frustration eats at you – for being stuck with this, for being surprised with an early cycle, and maybe just a little bit because you really wanted those goddamn cuddles. You’ve wrestled three of the four corners off when Simon catches you stripping the bed, a towel drapes around his neck, shirt damp with sweat that still drips from his hair.

“What’re y’doin’, handsome?” He rumbles, an eyebrow raised as he stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes flicker between the blankets clumped on the floor and the sheet you’re mid-tugging off the mattress.

Though his question is fair, the obviousness of your situation, and your irrational irritation makes it feel like he’s rubbing your misfortune in. Gritting your teeth, you wrench a little harder than needed at the fabric. “S’my fault, I’ll chuck it in the wash.” You grumble, pulling up the mattress to unhook the last corner, ignoring how your back groans with the motion. Simon makes a noise of protest, not unkind as he snatches the sheet you’re trying to bundle in your arms. “Don’t be daft, mate.”

His tone is flat and slightly exasperated as he pulls the sheet from you, looking at the myriad of stains on your front, glazing over the angry expression you’re giving him at his little quip. Before you can open your mouth to say something, he turns you by your shoulders, escorting you to the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You huff, taking your turn to ask an obvious question as you let him steer you to the ensuite. A grunt is your only response as he pushes you through the door, his warm hand leaving your shoulders to pull back the liner fully. You watch as Simon turns the taps, listening to the pipes creak as water begins to dribble from the head. He doesn’t make any move to pull off his sweaty athleisure, just fiddles with the tap, turning it much hotter than Simon would usually take his showers – oh.

Taking the hint, you pull off your boxers, wincing as the cold air hits your now-exposed, sticky skin. Simon’s hand is under the water, breaking the droplets’ fall as the water warms, but his attention is now focused on you. When you straighten up, tossing your briefs to the hamper, he meets your unhappy look with a question.

“Pancakes?”

You blink at him, indignance still plastered on your face in a grumpy scowl as your brain struggles through the pain fogging your thoughts, and Simon just raises an eyebrow.

“Eggs ‘n toast? Take-out?’

A moment of bemusement passes as you think for a second, until your mouth drops into a little o-shape, and guilt tints your cheeks red. “Oh.”

Simon huffs affectionately, echoing your “oh” as he pulls his hand back, waiting for you to answer.

“Pancakes?” You mumble, looking up at him through your lashes. The corner of his lips tug into what you’ve learnt is a forgiving smile, and he leans over your figure to press a soft, unexpected kiss to your forehead. His lips are soft – good, he’s had a drink after working out – and the appetising, musky smell of his BO fills your mouth as he leans in.

“Pancakes it is, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as he moves out the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

Before anything can drip from you and create an additional mess you can’t be bothered with, you climb into the showerbath, making sure the plug is hung up to avoid any water filling the tub. He’s perfected the temperature, and you feel like just lying down in the empty tub as your body goes boneless, feeling water drizzle down on you from the showerhead. It’s just enough to soothe the way your body aches, but not enough to make you feel any dizzier. By the time you’ve finished in the shower, your skin feels red and tender, but the heat has temporarily worked your muscles into a sleepy stupor. Though you swear the scent of metallic fetor lingers on your skin no matter how many scents you use, any visible remnant has been washed down the drain.

Pulling the liner back, a towel sits on the vanity, folded neatly with two painkillers resting atop the fabric’s surface and a half-full glass next to it. On the other side, a pair of your boxers and one of Simon’s shirts hangs from the edge. You didn’t even notice Simon slip in to leave them there – despite how long you’ve been with him, it’s still unnerving that such a big man can move without a sound.

Scooping the pills up, you take them with a mouthful of water, before unfurling the towel to dry yourself off. The ordeal is short, pausing to pull on your briefs and a sanitary product of choice before you finish drying your tender legs, hanging the towel to dry over the rail nailed to the wall.

A whiff of sweet, buttery batter permeates the bedroom as you step back into it, mentally bracing for a brutal war of ‘how many sides can I get on before one pops off’ with your goddamn super king sized bed. However, surprise stops you in your tracks, feet stuttering as you find the floor empty of blankets. They’ve returned to the bed, which has been made with a rehearsed, militarized perfection, corners tucked tightly in with barely a ripple across the taut fabric.

With one chore covered, you grab the hamper from the bathroom, walking out into the living room to the source of the smell. Simon is hidden in the kitchen, his back to the entrance as he stands over the stove, but the sound of your feet padding around the corner raises his head.

His hair is light and fluffy, the tips still damp as he puts down the spatula, walking over to take the hamper from you despite your objections. The musky sweat coating him earlier has been replaced with the artificial, clean scent of shampoo and soap - you have no clue how he’s managed to change the bed, wash himself in the spare bathroom, and make a start on breakfast before you finished your own shower.

Resigning, you move to the stove and take up the spatula, patting the pancake as bubbles rise to its surface. Barely a minute passes before Simon’s arms slip around you, taking the spatula back and letting it drop to the counter to interlock your fingers.

“Independent this morning, pet?” He murmurs, carefully placing his other hand over your stomach, feeling as it rises and dips with your laugh. The warmth that radiates from his palm is ridiculous, seeping into the sore muscles that are starting to ache again.

“C’mon, you’d call me feeding myself independent.” You tease, leaning back until your head meets his chest. It shakes as he huffs a quiet laugh, bouncing you slightly before answering.

“When I could be feedin’ you? Don’t reckon I’m wrong.” He grunts, wrapping your hand around the handle, his own still encompassing yours, smiling into your hair as he helps you flip the pancake with a flick of your wrist.

You give his retort an overly dramatic groan, but his attention is captured by an electronic beeping that sets off. The moment he pulls away, your body misses his heat, watching him open the microwave door to pull out a very familiar, tear-shaped heap of fabric. You step away from the stove, reaching out to take it from him as he extends it towards you. The cartoon-ish looking figure of a little ghost heatpack is hot to the touch, emitting the faintest smell of lavender and chamomile, and he gives you a small smile as you wrap your arms around it, holding it against your torso.

“You think of everything, huh?” You laugh, heart squeezing as he answers you with a lop-sided grin and turns back to the stove, pouring in the last of the batter.

“Not everythin’ – how ‘bout you make a cuppa and sit down, hm?” He rumbles, gesturing to near the fridge. Two cups are already coupled together on the counter, and you skip boiling the kettle again as lazy tendrils of steam already climb from its spout. Grabbing a couple of tea bags, you tuck the heating pack under your arm, filling up the mugs as you listen to the sizzling of the pan. Simon gives you a quiet “thanks, love” as you set down his mug next to the stove, but when you reach for a plate to start dishing out the cooked pancakes, you’re interrupted by a chiding “ah!” and large hands turning you around. “Go sit down love, I got this.”

The look you give Simon over your shoulder does nothing to sway his rejection of your help, big brown eyes staring back at you with an expectant look as he gently nudges you to the exit. Though it’s tempting to ignore him and stay, the effort of staying upright is slowly sapping any hint of energy you recovered in the shower.

Bringing your drink out and flopping yourself onto the couch, your legs scream in gratitude when your weight is finally shifted from them. The small ghost sits across your abdomen, radiating a relaxing warmth that soothes the muscles cramping violently underneath it.

Though it’s barely minutes that pass, Simon comes out to find you curled in the couch’s corner, wrapped up around the heating pad with a slight frown in your brow. The gentle clink of the ceramic against the coffee table stirs you from your light sleep, cracking your eyes open as Simon sinks into the couch next to you, his plate balanced on his thighs.

“Sorry love,” he murmurs apologetically, raising an arm to let you bury into him. You jump at the opportunity, shuffling yourself to press against his side, and a content relaxation falls upon you as his arm covers you protectively. Without moving you too much, Simon leans forwards to grab your plate, resting it on your lap and tucking a fork into your hand.

Looking at the pancakes, he’s given you an extra one in your stack, drizzled generously with your favourite toppings. Your chest squeezes at the sight, each carefully placed topping another homage to the tenderness that your lover struggles to verbalise.

“You’ve done so much for me this morning, Si.” You start remorsefully, eyes downcast to your stack of pancakes. With a grunt, Simon reaches for his fresh mug perched precariously on the couch’s arm, using a spare finger to hit the on button of the remote sitting next to it. “Not allowed to give my special boy some love when he’s roughed up?”

You give him a good-natured huff, digging into his side playfully. “Make it sound like I’m wounded, Si.” Simon snorts, pulling his eyes away from the TV to shoot you an amused look. “With the amount of blood, y’could’ve convince me.”

You laugh at the comment, letting the light warmth fill your chest until it’s dampened by the unspoken guilt still sitting miserably on your conscience. “Sorry for bein’ grumpy earlier,” you mumble.

Simon hums, pulling you tighter as he cuts into a pancake with his fork, raising it to your mouth. “Kinda figured you wouldn’t be top shape after seein’ the blood, s’alright pet. Y’ve told me that this shit hurts more than normal.”

Taking the mouthful, you give him a small, grateful smile, reaching for your own plate and cutlery to share a piece back. The pancakes are light and fluffy, not heavy enough to upset your stomach, but enough to be filling for how insatiable your appetite can get. “Thanks, Si. Still appreciate you’re patient with me, though.”

He hums thoughtfully as he chews, gently rubbing his thumb mindlessly against your thigh. “Patient? Nah. Johnny said y’deserve a ring for bein’ patient with my shit after deployment – he’d take the piss if I told him you’re thankin’ me for being patient.”

The way Simon drops the idea of marriage is so calm and casual, a significant contrast to how it makes your heart soars in your chest. Reigning in your excited response, you take another mouthful, giving him a grin that can’t quite hide how much you like the idea. “Hope you told him how useful this little guy has been,” you gesture to the ghost on your lap, “because it’s definitely my second favourite ghost since he bought it.”

The narrowed glare that Simon gives the plush heating pad has you giggling around a forkful of pancakes, looking at him with light-hearted exasperation. “Oh c’mon, I said second favourite!” You chuckle, watching him roll his eyes with a grumble.

“Yeah, yeah,” his tone is low and playfully grumpy, rumbling through you. “S’long as it’s me you’re cuddlin’ at night, ‘m not havin’ a toy steal my man.”

Mindful of your plates, you wrap an arm across his chest and ignore how your stomach complains at the movement, squeezing him lightly. “Never, Si. My favourite ghost.”

With a satisfied noise, he looks down at you, a mischievous half-grin on his face. “Good, that thing couldn’t fuck you half as well.”

The cheeky remark gets him a deeper dig in the side, enough to pry a grunt from him as he squirms, though he’s still careful with how much he jostles you. Silence quickly falls over you, Simon watching the news with a protective arm around you. He sips at his tea as you finish your plate, running a hand through your hair every now and then, placing a few kisses to your scalp.

When you’ve finished your meal, you put the plate on the coffee table, reaching for Simon’s to stack them together. Reaching forwards has you wincing, a pulsating pain in your core that makes your tailbone ache, and Simon swoops in to stop you in your tracks.

“Sit your ass down already,” he grouches, pushing you back into the couch as he scoops up your plate. “Told you, you’re bein’ dependent today.”

#jams asks #ghost x masc!reader #ghost x transmasc!reader #simon riley x masc!reader #simon 'ghost' riley x masc!reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #jams writings #rep!reader writings

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midnightsequia · 5 months ago

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Would people be interested in a zombie apocalypse au of a Jeff the killer x reader fanfic lmao I've been slowly writing one like here and there in my notes app so I have random scenes that are not connected at all lol here's a little sneak below the cut!

Basically a slow burn, xreader no mention of yn/__ I hate the underscores lmao and probably strangers to friends to lovers? Idk we will see ill probably post it all anyways

This is not edited!

This is not revised!

A true WIP!

"You are staying." Jeff poked your chest hard causing you to stumble back.

"In what world? There are dozens of dead in there and you expect me to stay outside?" Emphasizing 'outside' you swatted his hand away and pulled your fingers into fists by your side. In your eyes you had gotten better with your pistol and could be a great helpful asset to Jeff while scavenging.

"You're a liability and would get me killed." In his eyes you are a beginner. Someone who still shakes while holding a gun, afraid to pull the trigger in fear of blowing his head off. Your eyes flared with rage. Trying to calm yourself down from a loud outburst from frustration not wanting to attract unwanted attention. The two of you are getting too loud. "Just stay here for Christ's sake." His shoulders slacked, no longer holding annoyance and anger but instead his maniacal eyes covered themselves in guilt and sadness. He was looking towards your worn shoes. Pleading you wouldn't be stupid enough to follow him.

"Fine. If I dont hear from you in fifteen minutes, I will come in myself and get you." Crossing your arms you stood straight now almost the same height as him.

"No you will not."

"Yes. I will. I'm compromising with you." Jeff grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. Why doesn't he see that you do care about his well being?

"Fine," He spat "I'll go in, clear the area, like I usually do, and you come in and help gather everything. Hunter, gather style." When mentioning "hunter" He pointed to himself, and gatherer to you. Jeff pulled his knife out, the knife had aged terribly, causing your worry to only grow. He hasn't had the proper tools to efficiently sharpen the blade. The rock he had been using was causing more damage than sharpening the blade and there were a few chips in it as well. Staring at the knife with your worry written all over your face Jeff rolled his eyes and gleamed it in the sun trying to blind you. "It's gonna be fine. This is me we are talking about. Ill come back through this door." He gave a large smirk and left into the large department store. You went across the car riddled street and sat one that had crashed into a tree.

Jeff quietly made his way into the store. You had told him that this store would have clothes and food most definitely since it looked clean. He had wanted more than anything else in the world now something other than poorly cooked squirrel or chipmunk. He probably wouldn't get it since it's been months since the world ended but the canned food should be like new. The sliding door was unlocked and opened with a soft ding.

"Open 24/7" Jeff scoffed to himself, "now more than ever." He thought. He had nearly jumped in delight when he saw that the store was almost untouched. This was located on the outskirts of a small town, on a road down to the coast on the way here they had only passed a few empty, well now empty, homes and they had store brand food in their trash. This store, giving you two a lead on where to possibly find supplies.

Blood was splattered across the ground and there was a funk in the air making Jeff hold back a gag. He was glad you didn't come in with him, "Oh it smells atrocious in here." He had heard your voice in his head complaining, then holding back the little bile you had left. You couldn't handle the smell of more than two zombies at a time, he couldn't begin to imagine your laughable reaction to this.

Off in the distance of the store there was a rattle of some carts

#jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta art #creepypasta fanfic #zombie #apocalypse #jeff the killer

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ikoarts · 11 months ago

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December 2022 Art

back to form a bit this month, i really love a lot of the stuff i drew here x

vvv dates + info under the cut vvv

1 - 01/12/2022 : a young Ru! about 14 i think, i was having thoughts about her childhood and how she'd be in school etc

2-5 - 04/12/2022 : vampires.. hehe... thats all x ,, also more little ru, thought she would have a friend, she doesn't keep up with her into adulthood though, but i think Ru thinks of her a lot. also one of her in another outfit, i think she'd constantly have those claires rave ball earrings in like i did LOL

6, 7, 8 - 05/12/2022 : was thinking of what she'd wear to her school disco, somethin trendy, this would have been 2002, i was alive but not old enough to remember how teens were dressing lmfao, but anyhow i love this outfit, something she'd never wear otherwise, but she tries to fit in a bit.. also another little Toni, shes not emo enough here tho

9, 10 - 07/12/2022 : no idea whats going on here x ,, toni suspects homosexual activity, also was playing around with my Rouxls design again (i still dont know how i should be drawing him)

11, 12 - 08/09/12/2022 : TOLD U, we are at last at my current MTT design :D i love how he looks, so funky...

13, 14 - 10/12/2022 : more MTT, wanted to solidify the design, so drew him in a fun pose, still to this day this is one of my fave drawings. since Toni is, or was, like a genderbent human AU version of MTT, i was thinking of playing with her design to reflect that, i didn't go with it tho, still, it was fun to play around with

15, 16 - 18/12/2022 : idk why i lied like that in my last post LOL, i didnt draw the full digital lammy piece for awhile, but this one is definitely closer to the design i went with for her, think i based the digital one on this drawing too. More teen Toni too! i love this drawing its like the quintessential Her, esp her eye design, im glad i went and revised that, bc i know she had raccoon eyes

17, 18 - 21/12/2022 : another fiddle with my Rouxls design, i don't hate this one tbh.. also tism creature Ru

19-22 - 27/12/2022 : i think i found some random pencils and felt like inking and colouring a drawing, not my fave thing but heres a Ru in colour, the rest of the stuff i did this day i like a lot more. Next is an updated version of my gijinka of Rusty from Little Robots, idk if i ever even posted any of the old art i did for this, but heres her again <3 then just a Ru in the festive spirit, cosy jumper and a mug of somethin, i like this one bc shes just so squinkie......

23 - 31/12/2022 : last of 2022! this was done midnight before NYE itself, idk whats going on but i like it, i was thinking about what designs i could make for acrylic keyrings, and the rest is just random x

now onto 2023..... girl im so tired

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obsessivelysweet · 2 years ago

Text

* Hello everyone! I'm sorry this took so long. And it's long, too, lol. I revised it and deleted stuff too many times and lost motivation for it. Honestly, I don't truly like it, but oh well, it's finally done! I really do hope you like it. If not, it's ok. No worries, just thank you for stopping by! Hope you have a good day! Warnings under the cut!

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Warnings: sagau/cult au/obsession/violence/slight mention of death/yandere/blood/kidnapping/a bit suggestive/female reader/spelling errors

Characters:Childe(main focus)/

(side characters) Zhongli/ Xiao/ Doctor

Look at only Me~♡

You were beautiful in everything you did and said. Just being in your presence felt so euphoric, like being on an endless high. Your pure tender love for all of Teyvat was breathtaking. And boy, oh boy, you were certainly a drug to him.

The tall gingered hair harbinger stared at your form as you tended to the flowers in your garden. A small smile peaked out from the corners of his mouth just by watching you. He observed your form as you went to each flower bed, speaking to them almost as if they were your friends. Gently caressing the petals as you sang it sweet nothings hoping these actions will make the flowers grow stronger. He loved watching you for hours on end.

Of course, though, you didn't know that a certain pair of blue eyes watched every move you made. He would observe you from a safe distance but close enough to hear you should the opportunity present itself to save you from danger. It was also because he wanted to be close enough to still hear your heavenly voice.

This voice could pull him out of a blood thirsty episode. The voice that saved him from the days he spent in the abyss. That sent shivers down his spine just by hearing you call out his name. He could listen to you for the rest of his life even in his last breath, he would want to hear you.

Your very being was holy, pure, the true essence of divinity. He was still just a measly human even if he did have a delusion on him. Compared to you, he was nothing, just another devoted follower who hopelessly wished to be your one and only. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't move Celestia and the Abyss for you. He wouldn't kill for you no matter who it was. He would do it in a heartbeat if it meant you would look at him. You brought him peace to his suffering, an end to his means, no longer dealing with the pain he would feel from having a delusion. For that reason, he longed to repay you for it.

He would do it by keeping tabs on you for instance; where you went, when you ate or what you ate, sleep, who you talked to etc. Everything you did he would want to know it all but unfortunately he couldn't keep eyes on you all the time though.

To be honest he hated the others you so lovingly gave attention to. They didn't deserve your warmth, your touch, your attention. They deserved none of it from you, they weren't worthy of your presence.

There were two followers that were a bit too close to you. Too close that he despised their very existence.

One who he knew very well, a tall slender man with a low husky voice that made everyone fall for him; Zhongli.

He was calm as he basked in your presence, telling you stories of his old days as he would share tea with you. He hated how Zhongli's golden eyes would linger a second longer on your lips than they should. Hated how you would run your delicate fingers through his dark, long locks, letting you braid it as you pleased. Hated how Zhongli would every so slightly lower his hand a bit more while holding your back as the two of you would stroll through the streets of Liyue. Zhongli would claim to be one of your only devoted followers, that he's been loyal to you for so long, surely he was worth being in your presence. He knew the former archon wasn't so devoted to you before you descended into Teyvat.

The gingered man watched in the distance coldly, as his grip on his trusty bow tighten. The soft smile you would give to the man was so pure; ereathal, how dare such a hypocrite of a man see you like that. He didn't deserve your gaze, your company, not one bit of you he didnt deserve. Honestly he wouldn't mind watching the former geo archon's eyes go dull as the life fades away by his own hands.

The other was a dark green haired adeptus known as the Conquer of Demons.

He would also keep tabs on you but at a further distance. Just uttering his name from your lips would make him appear before you in an instant, kneeling with his head bowed, golden irises looking straight down, ready for your orders. Whatever you may ask of him; to be in his company or to slash down any foe before you. He will do it in an instant for you, anything for you. Nothing is more important to him as you are, even if you wished for him to remove himself from this existence, he would for you.

He was very close to you, close enough for you to lean your head on his shoulder as you talk away your day or whatever you had on your mind. Close enough that he could lightly trace your shoulder as he looked at you, who was looking out onto the beautiful landscape in front of you. He would etch your features into his mind as you looked out from the balcony the inn.

The way your eyes creased when you smiled or laughed. How gentle your lips looked, the feeling of you saying his name, your laughter. He wanted to remember every moment with you. His loyalty to you has no end, and he swears by it. These small moments you share with the adpetus feel like eternity when he's with you.

The harbinger hated watching how close the adeptus was with you whenever he could get close enough without the adeptus noticing. Hated how he could easily hold your hand or feel your soft hair as it draped against his shoulder when you leaned your head onto him. Hated how the once loner of an adpetus was smiling around you. His golden irises followed your every movement even if it was small. His golden hues looked too long onto your lips or thighs.

The harbinger watched in disgust, the blood in his veins boiling. Vile burning in the back of his throat, wishing for release. He wished for the day he could best him in battle. To take him away from your presence, from this world, and hopefully your memory entirely.

These two took so much of your time, glances, smiles, laughter, touch... your very presence.

Unfortunately you were too kind to see how bad they were for you, surely they had something bad in mind for you with how they acted. Their eyes lingering, their subtle facial expressions changing, their subtle touches on your holy skin. Every second is precious with you and they were taking it. He had to save you from them and after he takes care of them surely you will look at him, right?

It's not like you haven't been keeping him company or been looking at him. You've been trying to spend time with all of your followers, even with him.

He loved every second of being next to you. Walking down the harbor, seeing you look out at the sparkling clear water with a content smile on your face. Hearing you hum an unfamiliar tune as you kick your feet above the water. The way the sunlight kisses your skin, the way it gives you a glow, like you're angel. Your hair gently swaying with the wind as you look back at the harbinger who is trying his best to compose himself. Talking about everything and nothing at the same time, but it's ok because it's you.

He wanted to spend more time with you, wanted to be the first one you looked at when you opened your eyes in the morning. The poor harbinger wanted eternity with you even if he didn't get to live for all eternity. He wanted to be the first and last thing you saw every day. He wanted to see you until his last breath, but it wasn't enough. Not with how everyone else hogs your attention, especially those two.

Look at his blue eyes, his pale face sprinkled with freckles, his soft gingered hair. He just wanted you to look at him more, to only look at him. Only him and him alone.

It was quiet in your bedroom except for your soft breaths as you slept under your silken blankets. You were wrapped in warmth as thunder, and lighting was heard outside your window. Your room was illuminated with a soft glow from your bedside lamp as every now and then a flash of white light would peak from your curtains. You were deep asleep that you didn't hear the door slowly creak open. Soon, the door was opened enough for Childe to step in ever so carefully to not wake you up. He crept quietly in your room, slowly moving bit by bit to your bed, stopping only when you stirred in your sleep.

Eventually, he was by your bedside, looking down at your sleeping face. You looked so cute, he thought to himself. He had to savor this moment, the way your chest rised and fell so softly. Your sheets hugging you, your hands clutched the blanket, the way your eyelashes fluttered. Everything was beautiful to him, and soon, he'll be able to have more moments like this with you.

He gently placed his blood-soaked glove on your shoulder to gently wake you up. It took a couple of tries before you slowly registered the cold glove shaking you gently and something that was cold slowly dripping down your shoulder. At first, you didn't register what was going on or the fact that Childe was covered in blood. You just asked lazily what is it? Childe smiled at your sleepy face before caressing it. He spoke softly, almost a whisper, "Its done, my grace, they are no longer a nuisance."

Done? Nuisance? These soft spoken words suddenly got your attention, which made you look more at him. That's when you noticed the blood on his clothes, on you now, his dark smile, the smell of something once human. You pushed his hand away and shot up to look at him. A pit started to form at the bottom of your stomach. You felt sick.

He was hurt by your sudden slap of his hand away from you, but no matter, you were just in shock. He did wake you up in the middle of the night, so it's ok. He took a step back to give you some space, but really, it was for him to see you more now that you were sitting up.

You asked him whose blood was on him, what happened, if he was ok, and what he meant by his words. You were starting to panic, so all of these questions sounded more like gibberish if anything. Even in this panicked, confused state of mind, you still looked so beautiful. He wanted to see every facial expression you could make, and what's important is that you're looking at him.

This feeling of euphoria was intoxicating because you were looking at him. Your eyes were solely on him. Even if your eyes screamed for help, you were looking at him. He wanted to grab your face and lock eyes with you. Wanted to kiss you, love you, hear you say his name. He will hear you say it soon.

Before you could speak to ask again, Childe smirked. This smirk made your stomach churn even more, but why? The soft aura of the light felt suffocating against the tall man before you. You couldn't find any words as he started to walk back to you.

"Your Grace, I'll be honest, the blood belongs to two of your followers; Zhongli and Xiao. They did put up a fight, but it's fine because I won. They were a danger to you, and as your follower, I had to see that they were disposed of. Of course, though, I'm sure the Doctor will take good care of their corpses"

By now, he's standing over your frighten form with a sick look in his eyes. His once beautiful blue eyes were now dark mixed with some kind of hunger. A hunger for something more. You couldn't move from the shock of hearing whose blood it was. He inched closer and closer to your face, locking eyes with you as he barely touched your lips with his. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips in the silent room.

He wanted to kiss you but stopped himself. Honestly, this whole time, he wanted to do so much with you. He didn't want to hurt you, but he knew he had to get you somewhere safe. He leaned back again away from your trembling state to pull something out of his pocket. It was a small white cloth that had a sweet aroma.

You knew exactly what it was, but before you could react,Childe lunged at you, putting the cloth over your nose and mouth. He held onto your body as you tried to struggle out of his grip to get the cloth away from you but to no avail. Soon, the room became dizzy, your eyes felt heavy, and everything became dark. You fell unconscious in his arms, in your once safe bedroom, in the dark of night.

The room was once again quiet with the occasional thunder and lighting. He held onto your unconscious body, caressing your face for a while. He wanted to bask in this moment for a bit longer. Your being felt small as he hugged you. Surely, this is why he needed to keep you safe, he thought to himself. He knew you would be mad at him, but it would only be for a bit. Eventually, you will understand his love for you.

He got up with you in his arms as he left your room. His blood-stained clothes did get on your silken nightdress. He felt bad but he'll get you another one. He couldn't help but notice how your dress hugged your figure beautifully, especially your chest, which he quickly averted his eyes from. A blush forming onto the cheeks of the gingered male as he walked into the rainy night, holding onto his beloved creator.

You awoke to something cold on your ankle and darkness blocking your vision. You don't know how long you've been out for, but it felt like a while with how groggy you felt. You felt around first while you were lying down and soon realized you were lying down on a soft bed with silken sheets. The room felt comfortably warm, and there was a salt water smell in the air. You could hear waves crashing and seagulls outside wherever you were. You were about to reach up to take off the blindfold, but you heard a door squeak open. Immediately, you went back to pretending you were asleep.

Childe, on the other hand, knew you were up, he was watching you from the door to the room he had you in. He was watching you the whole time, not taking his eyes off of your sleeping body worried he would miss you waking up. It was fun watching you coming to your senses, trying to feel around you with caution. The reason he made his presence known is because you were gonna pull off the blindfold, he wanted to do that. He wanted to be the first one you see, not the ceiling or the ocean, just him.

He walked over to you and sat next to you, the bed creaking with the new pressure added to it. He was happy that it's just you two now, away from everything that could harm you.

"Ah your grace! You're finally awake, thank goodness, I was starting to get worried."

The sudden voice of him speaking happily startled you and him sitting so close to you didn't help. You felt him lean towards you as his rough fingers remove your blindfold.

At first, you blinked a couple of times to adjust to the light change, and then you looked at him. His eyes were full of happiness looking back at you. He had the biggest smile on his face as you adjusted to your surroundings.

He sat patiently next to you, waiting for you to say something or ask something, but if not, then it would be alright with him. Just sitting here made him happy. Everything seemed like it was going well because you were here safe and sound.

You spoke, a bit apprehensive at first, wishing to know what did he do to them. Where were they? Why was there a cuff on your ankle?

He hated that you asked about them, it made his face turn dark again. He turned his face away from you to look out the one window in the room. The bitter vile taste in the back of his mouth was there again. Why were you asking about two people who don't even exist anymore. They dont matter, so why are they still occupying your mind. He didn't mind telling you where y'all were, it was that you asked about them is what made his mood turn sour. Maybe if he acted dumb you would forget about them?

He turned his face back to you, your scared yet lovely face. He noticed your breathing changed as well. He held your hand in his, bringing it closer to his chest, slowly rubbing your hand with his thumb as he spoke.

"What do you mean your grace? All I did was bring you to safety. And there's a cuff on your ankle so you won't leave. But I assure you that there's enough chain to it so you can get around the house safely! It's just the two of us now, so don't worry, I'll take good care of you, your grace."

He sounded so cheerful as he basically explained that he kidnapped you against your will and sealed you away somewhere. His thumb rubbing your hand was rough and dry, you could tell he's been fighting for so long. Even though he holds you so gently, it still doesn't change the fact of what he did and what he's doing. You're still afraid of him even if his demeanor seems sweet.

You swallowed your nerves before asking him again, pulling your hand away from his, which made him a bit sad but he still listened with intent.

"Childe..what did you do to them? To Zhongli..to Xiao. Please tell me..Childe."

Ah, your voice is saying his name. It sounds so sweet to hear you say his name. The bones in his body feel so relaxed, like there's nothing to worry about. His body slightly quivers with your voice echoing in his head. He would savor and love this moment so much, but it turned bitter as soon as you spoke their names. Why? Why, even after he disposed of them, are they still interfering!?

He got up to leave to the other room, his footsteps echoing as he walked. You could feel the air become tense as you hear him looking for something.

Childe went to the kitchen to prepare something to calm you down. You're just not feeling well, is all, and those two were somehow still on your mind. If he couldn't get you to change the subject, then he'll just help you relax a bit.

He's vowed not to hurt his beloved creator, but sometimes he might have to if it means you'll be safe. He might even have to permanently make you only look at him. Thankfully, he knows how to safely remove one's sight thanks to the Doctor. And if he does, you'll wont be able to look at him but you'll still see him in your mind. He'll be the last thing you'll see before removing your vision. Thinking about the thought makes him sad but it will be ok because he can still look at you. You'll be safe so its ok but thats only if it has to come to that.

Before he went back into yalls bedroom, he looked out from the kitchen window. The weather was nice and warm. The ocean spanned so far out that it seemed like it could go on forever. It was pretty out. He couldn't wait to take you out on walks, forage for food, and fall asleep together. He can finally relax, truly relax now. With that thought in mind and the noise from your chain, he made his way back to the bedroom.

At the same time, while Childe was in the other room, you tried your best to make as little to no noise moving around. However, that was difficult with the rattling metal chain connected to you. The first thing you went to was the window. If you could open it, maybe you could get someone's attention or see at least where you were. Yet Childe didn't let you, with a forceful tug to the chain, you fell to the ground with a loud thud. The hard wood floorboards didn't help with your fall. Adding more to your injury was the cuff around your ankle. Childe's boot was stepping on the chain, which made your ankle be in a weird, uncomfortable position.

He looked down at you with a stern expression on his face. His eyes were dark again, his demeanor cold towards you. He just wanted you to be safe, to be happy with you. So why. Why do you look at him with such disgust. Why are you trying to leave him? He did everything to protect you, to keep you safe, he spent so many hours watching you. He prayed to you every night, whispering in the dark late hours of his sins, hoping for you to bless him. Hoping for you to clean him, to heal him, to make him live at peace with you by his side. But now you still don't see any of that. You still aren't looking at him. Instead, you're looking past him. You're looking for a way out. He was angry but no worries, he'll fix you. That's why he went to the kitchen in case you were acting irrationally.

Even though only your one leg was chained, you still had your hands. Childe walked closer to you even as you tried to push him away. You were hysterically crying, pleading for him to stop whatever he was about to do, but he didn't hear anything you were saying. His mind was blank as he grabbed for your hands to bound you. No amount of struggle, of flailing your arms around, of trying to scratch him could help you. Even though his face was cold, his voice was soft as he spoke to you.

"Its ok, you're just not well my grace. You need rest so don't worry, once you wake up again you'll feel better."

With that, the same white cloth he used on you that night appeared before you again. This time, though, he was faster than you realized. In a blink, the cloth was on your face again. The sweet aroma fills your senses, your feet kicking whatever it can, and your body shakes until his blue orbs was the last thing you saw. It was silent again, with the sound of waves in the background. Your body again asleep against your once trusted follower.

He was at peace again, holding you in his arms. His hair was a mess, but it mixed with yours so beautifully. He would hold you close in his arms as the two laid on the creaky wooden floor boards of your now forever home. Childe just wanted you to look at him and you will eventually. Even if you might wake up still sick it will be ok because with time you'll wake up feeling better. He didnt want to hurt you, he felt horrible that he made you fall. How could he hurt his delicate creator like that, despicable. He'll have to take at look at your bruises later.

If you do have to keep going back to sleep and having to see him for the "first" time when waking up then its fine. He doesn't care how many times you'll have to go through it. He will savor each moment until you come around and then savor each moment after that.

The two of you lived in that cycle of waking up, asking about the two, then falling asleep. Each time, he made sure he was the first one you saw when opening your eyes. This took quite a while, tucked away on a small island away from everyone.

One day, though, when you woken up and he took your blindfold off, you seemed different. Instead of asking about them or where y'all were, you said good morning to him with a smile. Ah, this was it, Childe thought to himself. You've finally woken up, and you're now looking at him. He was ecstatic on the inside, but he didn't show it. He just smiled back at you, cupping your face with one had, and saying with a soft voice, "Good morning, my love."

The male harbinger was finally living the dream life he always wanted with you by his side. He may have broken your psyche, but it's ok because you're finally looking only at him. Never stop looking at him.

#genshin cult au #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #genshin self aware #genshin yandere #genshin brainrot #genshinimpact x reader #trying my best #genshin x female reader

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