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decadentworld · 2 years ago

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My headcanons about the boys (Billy, Eddie, Steve, Jonathan)’s sexual orientations and how that comes into play in a relationship with Reader (male reader).

※ This post is only meant for fanfiction purposes.

※ Short version first, longer thoughts after the cut.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Steve

※ Bisexual with equal preference towards men and women.

Eddie

※ Gay. Sorry, hellcheer enjoyers. I have nothing against the ship. I just can’t see Eddie as anything other than exclusively homosexual.

Jonathan

�� Bi-demisexual with preference towards men.

Billy

※ Gay. I’m sort of ambivalent about him and can sometimes see him as bisexual if written right, but I prefer to think of him as closeted/repressed homosexual.

※ Under the cut are some more extended thoughts.

※ Trigger warnings: Mention of grooming (Karen Wheeler towards Billy Hargrove). Child physical and verbal abuse (Neil Hargrove towards Billy Hargrove, Lonnie Byers towards Jonathan and Will Byers). Mentions of death due to overdosing. Religious trauma.

※ Content and warnings: Homophobia. Internalized homophobia. Mentions of (all of the following unrequited and not acted upon): Steve Harrington/Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers/Argyle.

Steve

※ I picture him as bisexual, but as him having only recently discovered this about himself.

※ I imagine he would be in denial at first.

※ He would try to take ‘refuge’ in sex with girls, which is familiar to him.

※ Which is something that, to him, feels great. Truly.

※ But. There’s always going to be that tiny splotch of curiosity in his head. Like an interrogation sign following his line of thought every time he catches himself staring at a particularly attractive male celebrity in a movie for too long.

※ His bisexual awakening can’t be pinpointed into one man, but three in particular.

※ The most notorious one was Billy. But the first one was, surprisingly, Jonathan.

※ Obviously, in the heat of the fight, there was no room for any other thoughts than to beat Jonathan within an inch of his life.

※ But after all is said and done, after Steve gets his act together and tries to be a better person, he starts having thoughts.

※ Confused thoughts, remorseful thoughts. Thoughts that leave him disgusted with himself because why would he start thinking about that fight as anything other than a necessary reality check for him.

※ Why does he get a different kind of chills when he recalls Jonathan overpowering him? No, not overpowering him. Just… lying on him at all.

※ It was the first time Steve’s ever considered himself anything other than wound up by a physical fight.

※ And Billy.

※ Dear God. Billy.

※ If Jonathan was the inception, Billy was the confirmation.

※ The way he looked, the way he carried himself. Even the douchebag way he treated Steve was so different from anything he’d ever experienced. And he was curious.

※ Only much later could Steve understand there was more to Billy. Only after it is too late does Steve understand Billy’s reasons, Steve’s own fault in Billy acting the way he did at the Byers’ house.

※ Only when it’s too late does Steve start experiencing that feel of wanting to protect, ever since El had vaguely mentioned that Billy had a Papa too. That’s enough for Steve to understand.

※ He feels guilty. Angry. Not at Billy, not for this. At his father. At his environment.

※ But… it isn’t just the need to protect him from his environment? It’s also wanting to hold him? To be close to him?

※ Steve has always had conflicting thoughts about many things, but the idea that he’s always been attracted to Billy Hargrove wreaks havoc in his mind.

※ He can’t do anything now. It’s too late, because Billy’s left Hawkins as soon as he was discharged from the hospital.

※ Steve worries about him now and then, wonders if he even had enough money, if the Camaro was even functional at this point, how he’ll afford housing in (probably) California.

※ He calms himself by thinking the government had a hand in that.

※ And then you arrive.

※ Jonathan was the inception, Billy was the confirmation, and you are the execution.

※ Steve has seldom found people who he considers bigger than life. Billy wasn’t one of them.

※ You are.

※ The way you look like you could snap anyone in half, but still choose to be a nice person, has him immediately hooked.

※ His previous thoughts lead him to the shaky confirmation that yes. This is attraction to men.

※ But how is that possible? He can’t be gay. He likes girls.

※ Robin knocks some sense into him, obviously.

※ “It’s called being bisexual, Stevie. Like Bowie. Are you living under a rock?”

※ Huh.

※ It’s a long, very long way until Steve accepts that he wants to spend time with you as more than friends.

※ Even then, he doesn’t have the same amount of courage to come onto you the way he does with girls.

※ Luckily, he doesn’t have to, since you’re the one to make the first move.

※ The first time you ask him out, he refuses out of panic. And leaves. Running.

※ He shuffles his feet back to you the very next day, with a very dark blush on his face. Says he didn’t know why he panicked.

※ So he asks you to try again.

※ The second time you ask him out, he looks jittery, but agrees.

※ Only on the condition that it’s a private affair.

※ “Obviously,” you tell him. You know just how much his life would be ruined if anyone —if his parents, God forbid— found out about this.

※ And you’re now Steve’s Harrington’s first boyfriend. First everything with a man.

Billy

※ I’m slightly impartial about Billy’s sexual orientation.

※ I can sometimes see him as bisexual, but I’m more leaning onto the theory that he’s a repressed homosexual, so I’ll develop this latter one.

※ Billy is so conflicted with what he feels.

※ And who wouldn’t be in his situation? He has only learnt violence.

※ Never love.

※ Billy strikes me as someone who just does not enjoy sex with women. At all.

※ Everytime he does have sex with women, it’s just part of the mask. He knows that the more women talk about him, about his sexual prowess, the more ears will turn and the more possibilities he will have that he will not be mistaken with a queer.

※ Especially if his father is listening to this gossip.

※ Billy did not have one man in particular as his sexual awakening. There were many.

※ Most of them were in California.

※ Billy was often startstruck with how handsome and bright the surfer boys were.

※ He just didn’t know it was ‘bad’ to be a ‘queer’. There was so much acceptance of ‘queers’ in there.

※ Which is the reason why Neil found out so quickly about his son “being one of them queers” when Billy, so innocently and still full of life, walked down the beach hand in hand with another boy —a new friend, not even a little boyfriend— of his same age.

※ Betty Hargrove could somehow disregard the verbal abuse her own son was getting from Neil. However, she left the second he turned on her. (Sorry, Billy’s mom’s defenders, but a mother who abandons her son with his abuser just does not strike me as a good person at all.)

※ Billy just doesn’t know when his ‘punishment’ for being ‘queer’ will stop, if it ever will:

It starts with Neil bringing Susan and Maxine Mayfield in not even two months after his mom leaves;

it continues with moving them all to Bumfuck, Indiana soon after;

it keeps going day after day, with hit after hit, even when Billy shows himself with a different girl every week.

(Billy knows it’s not all about him being queer anymore.)

※ All of this plays an important role in Billy’s self-deprecation in general, in the way he sees being queer.

※ So his walls keep hardening. On and on. Until he’s unrecognizable from the innocent boy who would carelessly walk down the beach with another boy.

※ This mask he has built for himself, of a living hazard towards other men, a womanizer for the women, is not as sturdy.

※ There are moments when the cracks start to show.

※ Karen Wheeler’s predatory behavior almost has him reverting into a scared boy at times, as much as he’s able to hide it. She’s the reason why he starts being even more disgusted with himself when he has to keep this charade of being a ladies’ man.

※ There are, however, other moments when these cracks in the mask feel like freedom, a prisoner catching sunrays from between the bars, but it’s a dangerous kind of freedom.

※ Those moments happen whenever Steve Harrington is nearby.

※ Billy’s not sure who starts it, but sparks fly off the first time they interact.

※ Except. Not in the way he’d like.

※ He knows he’s not a pleasant person to be around most of the time, sure, but Billy could swear he did his best to not scare off the guy.

※ Now that’s all he can do. It seems like the only way he can interact with Steve normally is by pulling at his metaphorical pigtails.

※ Even this is more than he could have asked for. An escape.

※ But then, the betrayal. Not that Steve owed him anything, or that he was obviously anyone in Steve’s radar, but finding his little (step) sister in this random house, under this guy’s ‘supervision’ feels like betrayal all the same. How dare he lie to Billy?

※ Everything is fuzzy after this. Hate, betrayal, terror, acceptance, and pure, unadulterated pain is all he can feel. Being used like a puppet, and torn open and sewn back together will do that to you.

※ The light at the end of the tunnel exists, but the train has to hit him first.

※ Neil finally disowns him and ditches Hawkins. Billy figures his sperm donor jumped at the first chance as soon as he learnt Billy was critical, and he’s not surprised. So Billy’s virtually homeless. At the very least, the government paid off his hospital bills and gave him a hefty sum for his involvement, so he’s going to be alright for his hospital stay.

※ (Susan visits him at the hospital exactly one time and unenthusiastically offers him to stay at their new trailer. Billy refuses. She doesn’t visit him anymore. Billy knows it was just a courtesy.)

※ No one visits him.

※ No one, except you.

※ Word runs fast in Hawkins, and as soon as you hear —from your workmate, who’s heard from his cousin, who’s heard from her father, who works with Susan Hargrove Mayfield— about Billy’s situation, you can’t do anything else but go see him.

※ Billy lets the unexpected visitor (you) enter his hospital room, and you don’t fault him for not immediately recognizing you. You shared many classes in high school, but you never approached him because you knew (or thought you knew) how much he saw other men as nothing more than competition.

※ The panorama changes now. No words need to be said for you to understand that there’s more than meets the eye.

※ “I know you.” Billy surprises you, and you can’t be anything else than elated that he does.

※ The fact that you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on him for ages has a lot to do with this.

※ But, of course, that’s not why you’re here. You store these feelings away and simply make him company.

※ You’re his only visitor. Billy thinks it’s going to be a one-off, but he’s —pleasantly— surprised to know that’s not the case.

※ Billy heals with you at his side. His hospital room was one breath away from becoming a mausoleum, but instead, with you in it, it becomes his sanctuary.

※ He doesn’t say this. Tries not to show it.

※ But you think you know what’s up. Even then, neither of you says anything about the growing tension, though it’s not a bad kind of tension. On the contrary. Because you know you’re only a few steps away from full-on loving him, but you can’t do that to him. Can’t take advantage of him like that, and you know his feelings are probably only that of a vulnerable person towards their caregiver.

※ The closer he’s ready for discharge, the more nervous he becomes, because he’s still virtually homeless. He shouldn’t be; you’re going to offer him to stay at yours for as long as he needs. Obviously.

※ Though, as you say this, you can’t help falling face-first in love with him. Because the way he breaks down, like you just gave him a piece of heaven, tells you he hasn’t had a single good thing in his life for a long time. Which is when you start turning nervous too, because this is simply too much power held over him.

※ Billy doesn’t think that. He just falls in love with you, at the same time you do.

※ Navigating life together without actually being together is hard. A couple months into this arrangement it’s very clear to you that what he’s clearly feeling is not simple attachment to a caregiver figure.

※ So you take a chance and make a move. And he responds in enthusiastic kind.

※ You teach him how to accept himself. You hold his hand through the storm. You teach him how to make amends; this last one is important to him, because, “No one’s ever said sorry to me for shit, so how am I s’posed to know how to apologize?”

※ And through you, his relationship with Max improves. Lucas offers an olive branch. The kids and even Steve start warming up to him, seeing how much he’s changed, now that he’s in a safe place and has started to heal.

Eddie

※ Eddie strikes me as the gayest unconfirmed gay to ever gay.

※ Seriously. Have you seen the guy? (Again, nothing against hellcheer.)

※ The bandana on his back pocket should be enough evidence. (The fact that it’s on the wrong side doesn’t mean anything. Shut up.)

※ Eddie’s known about himself for too long.

※ Long enough that his parents sort of did, too. If it hadn’t been for his mom’s OD and his dad’s GTA, he’s pretty sure he still wouldn’t have lasted three more months in that house.

※ Wayne is the biggest ally ever. As soon as he knew this little thirteen year-old boy was going to go into the system, he dropped everything and swooped in to take care of him.

※ Wayne clocks him from a mile away.

※ Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, but he knows Wayne knows, somehow.

※ And the fact that neither of them aren’t saying anything about it fills him with anxiety.

※ Eddie’s always had a negative vision of himself being queer, due to dear ol’ Randy and Bonnie Munson —ironically— giving him a Christian upbringing, but the more time that passes, the more he hates himself. Hates the idea of Hell and is terrified at the same time.

※ These thoughts lead him to closing himself off for a long time, before Wayne decides the elephant in the room is too big to ignore and simply says:

※ “Kid, you’re not gonna go to Hell.”

※ It’s as if Eddie deflates when he hears that.

※ It’s a slow process, full of ups and downs, but eventually, Wayne convinces him that there’s nothing wrong with being queer, that he’s not abnormal.

※ Eddie vaguely wonders why Wayne and Randy are so different, being that they both had the same upbringing.

※ Maybe Wayne’s a little bit gay, too.

※ So Eddie grows up with a supportive figure who allows him to be himself, dress how he wants, grow his hair, listen to whatever he wants without side-eyeing him, without implying he’s going to Hell because his music sounds ‘loud’ or ‘demonic’.

※ Eddie’s ways of expressing himself are so genuine it’s not a surprise they end up pissing off some less accepting people.

※ The first few times, Eddie reverts back into conforming, trying to not take up too much space in the room.

※ As time goes on, however, he understands that this’ll follow him on every step he takes, so he figures it’s not worth it. He is unashamedly himself.

※ He never comes out publicly, but the rumors that he’s queer will always be there.

※ One thing that Eddie can just not stand, is people calling him ‘Freak’.

※ Sure, he is unashamedly himself, but he still has his limits. He very much prefers when people call him ‘gay’, because at least that’s true.

※ It’s a long time until he closes in on himself again, and that moment arrives the first time he and Steve interact. Or, rather, Steve makes himself known.

※ His asshole friends, those Tommy and Carol who follow the King like his shadows, make life impossible for some seconds at a time every time they see him.

※ And Steve watches. Calls him “queer” and leaves after, every time.

※ Eddie is so ashamed to find out that, among that resentment he feels, there’s also yearning.

※ But Eddie won’t be so easily swayed by this, so he ups the ante. Is even more boisterous, makes himself a dangerous persona, but never falls into violent territory. He won’t stoop as low as his bullies.

※ Time passes and things change a lot in Hawkins. He notices a new family moving into the trailer park. He notices they were only two people at first in the trailer, but when the third one arrives after some months, his interest is piqued.

※ He knows this guy. Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s never approached him, lest he bear the brunt of his usual bad moods. He would’ve probably clocked Eddie as well, called him queer, knock him out a couple times for good measure.

※ At least, that’s what Eddie thinks high-school Billy would have done.

※ The Billy Hargrove he sees now looks like a shell of his former self.

※ Eddie yearns again. He so badly wants to be by this man’s side.

※ Unfortunately, not much time passes before he learns Billy Hargrove has left Hawkins. He doesn’t blame him.

※ Eddie finds his clique. Many years pass and he’s still in high school, and the only reason he tolerates it is because he knows he’ll have people to look forward to: his band and his little friends.

※ Then, the long chain of events happen in just the span of a few days, and his world is turned Upside Down.

※ He will always cry at the mention of Chrissy’s name. They could have been the best of friends, and he would’ve always given her a shoulder to cry on.

※ He still doesn’t know how or why he’s still alive. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe Hell was real, and he had to go through it, just as if he were made to face the divine tribulations.

※ That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that he’s now apparently given the access to Heaven with everything he’s had to go through. His charges are cleared, and even though some people are still in denial of this, no one dares to say otherwise.

※ And this is the part where he thinks he’s earnt Heaven. Because as he goes with his uncle to volunteer at the gym, he sees you, an absolute specimen of a man that almost makes him weak in the knees, helping prepare some meals.

※ Wayne almost laughs at how obvious Eddie’s being. “Why don’t you go make some sandwiches, kid? I’ll be right over here.” And subtly pushes him towards you, making him splutter and making you look up at the noise.

※ Eddie watches, almost besotted, as you introduce yourself to him. He blushes when he realizes he should answer something.

※ That’s not a problem to you. You’ve already started calling him ‘angel’ in your mind.

※ Time passes and Eddie’s falling more and more. But his earlier internalized thoughts are making the rounds again. He thinks you’ll only ever see him as a friend, and God forbid he ever shows himself as he is to you. He’ll totally lose you.

※ Silly boy. You’ve known he’s queer the entire time, only you’ve waited until you’re sure he’s feeling something similar to what you’re feeling to make a move.

※ And, oh, boy. The way he reacts has you halfway in love. He all but climbs you like an excited puppy. And the way he kisses you lets you know it’s his first one too, and isn’t that a thought.

Jonathan

※ Jonathan has known he’s a bit queer all his life.

※ He didn’t have a specific man as his sexual awakening. He’s just sort of known all along.

※ Obviously, living with this knowledge under Lonnie’s yoke is not easy.

※ For some unfortunate reason, it’s Will who bears the brunt of their father’s verbal lashings.

※ And Jonathan can’t stand it. He wants to be there for his brother, but he doesn’t know how he can possibly show his support as long as they live in this house.

※ Luckily, as soon as they’re all out, they can start healing. Even then, the scars of their upbringing are too big to ignore.

※ Jonathan keeps his attraction to men to himself throughout life.

※ The fact that he’s an outcast at school wears him down even more.

※ Let’s not even talk about the time Will’s gone. He’s a mess.

※ One of the hardest lessons in life for Jonathan is that everything that has to turn out wrong, turns out wrong in the end. Steve Harrington outing him as a ‘creep’ and breaking his camera is part of that lesson.

※ There’s something about Steve that has Jonathan’s thoughts going haywire. He hates the guy, but… there’s something else there, too. Jonathan has to put this foreboding feeling aside for the time being, seeing the following events that play out.

※ One of the most notorious events is the brutal fight he has with Steve.

※ The guy completely deserves it! Jonathan is firm in this belief.

※ But when Steve tries to improve himself, he has those same initial thoughts.

※ Why is he turning that fight over in his head so much?

※ Something must be wrong with him, clearly.

※ Jonathan loves Nancy. He does. At least at first. She’s his first in everything, and they have an understanding.

※ As more time passes, though, it’s clear that both of them have strayed away from each other. It hurts that she doesn’t understand his point of view, but he concedes that it’s clear he, in turn, doesn’t understand her point of view.

※ Their break-up is nothing big. It’s very obvious that it’s been a long time coming. He’s just glad they both reached that same conclusion at the same time, else they be caught in a future loveless marriage.

※ Especially when he tells her that he won’t follow her to Emerson.

※ Jonathan is very sure that he felt love for her. Attraction, even. But as he briefly heals from this same separation, he starts giving thought to previous happenings in his life.

※ The fight with Steve being the most prominent one.

※ Why is he still thinking of that?

※ Maybe it was the fact that it was the first time he got all close and personal with another male.

※ Even if it was in a fist-fight kind of context.

※ But he thinks of other instances apart from that one. All of them revolving around Steve.

※ The Halloween party at Tina’s. How… surprisingly handsome he found him that time.

※ Steve breaking his camera. The mortification, but, underneath that… the little thrill he got at seeing Steve so collected, so authoritative. Trying to put him in his place.

※ Yeah. There’s something very fucked up in Jonathan’s head.

※ Steve trying to make things right. This one, he thinks makes more sense. A subdued Steve was almost like a relief to him. Meant he wouldn’t be harassed as much.

※ It also meant he would also try to be more amicable to Jonathan.

※ Jonathan finds himself partial to these thoughts. But he can’t think of Steve like this anymore. Or, rather, should have never thought of Steve like this. He considers Steve sort of an awkward friend, and he’s too afraid to break that fine ice they’re both constantly stepping on.

※ So, with all this, it’s not really a surprise to Jonathan when he starts having thoughts about another one of his male friends, but it makes him feel guilty all the same.

※ Argyle is so different to Steve. He’s funny, effortlessly charming in a way that’s so contrasting to Steve, and considerate. Not to mention he sells Jonathan the best weed in miles around.

※ Plus, he’s tall. So tall.

※ Jonathan is slowly getting to two conclusions at the same time:

1. He has a type. That type is tall and bigger than him.

and

2. He’s finding out he likes men a lot more than women.

※ These two conclusions go hand in hand together.

※ The guilt swirls in lazy strokes on his chest. This feels so similar to Steve. He thinks he’s doing something very wrong by simply thinking of a male friend as something more.

※ After all, childhood scars are the hardest to heal.

※ He tries to withdraw, just a little bit, just until Argyle asks if he’s okay, if he’s still sad because he’s thinking of Nancy.

※ Yeah. Sure.

※ It isn’t until the new semester starts and he gets paired up with you for a project that the lid on his feelings starts weakening its hold.

※ Oh, he’s so fucked. The first time he sees you, he thinks: he’s so my type. Why do I have to go through this, again?

※ You’re easy-going, attuned to him, helpful.

※ And you’re tall. A lot taller than him. He almost has to strain his neck to look up at you.

※ He doesn’t know how that looks to you.

※ Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, due to the conflicting thoughts in his head, you’ve already starting thinking that he’s so small, so cute. He has to lift his head to look at you.

※ This college project drags on like molasses, except Jonathan finds it’s not the usual, not because it’s boring, because it should be something more challenging for his current level.

※ No. It’s because he and you have to actually gather at either of your houses.

※ Have to work next to each other. Share the same space. Try not to break due to the tangible tension you’re both aware of.

※ You’re very sure of what’s going on. A simple conversation that starts with your nonchalant: “Oh, did you know I’m into men?”, his spluttering reaction and subsequent shy answer of: “I… kinda am, too. That’s crazy,” eventually, but rapidly enough evolves into tentatively taking his hand, seeing the openness between the bashfulness and making a move.

※ His first time kissing a man makes him feel like he’s a whole different person.

※ A person he was always meant to be.

※ Small dates with you consolidate the idea that yeah, he’s a lot more into men.

#stranger things x male reader #eddie munson x male reader #billy hargrove x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #headcanons

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doxypsychlean · 2 years ago

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Hi. Can i request a aegon ii x rhaenyra's daughter. Maybe they marry in secret after the dinner of episode 8.

Of course you can, dear stranger! Hope you like it:)

Marry you|Aegon II Targaryen xTarg!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

A/N: Tumblr decided it'd be funny to mess with me and the first version didn't save. I've learned my lesson but tbh, it huuurt. Anyhoo- for the sake of this whole thing, let's pretend like she's didn't leave with her mother to Dragonstone, but instead stayed in King's Landing. Don't ask, I have no idea of how or why something like that would work either. Oh also, him and Helaena are still married to eachother. However, I didn't make it a point to mention their kids, so... Do with that as you wish. Cheers!

..................

The prince stole a quick glance at his niece as he reached for the wine decanter that just so happened to be placed right in front of her. She didn't even acknowledge him, too busy laughing along with Princess Baela at something her younger brother,Jacaerys, had just said to the two. The jealousy was eating him alive. Why? He had no idea, earlier that day the princess Rhaenys had announced the betrothal of Jacaerys and Baela Velaryon. Not to mention, Aegon himself was a married man. He had no right to feel jealous. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from drumming his fingers on the wooden table in annoyance. His brother was quick to notice, considering he sat not that far from him. Prince Aemond gave his older brother a knowing look, his usual smirk on his face.

"Oh Jace, you haven't changed one bit!" The princess said, hand now resting on her brother's shoulder as she wiped at the happy tears that pricked at her eyes.

His nostrils flared, lungs expanding to their full capacity. His heart was beating so fast, Aegon was afraid it was going to shatter all his ribs in attempt to get out. That damn bastard, he thought to himself.

The silver haired man was quick to pour the contents of his glass down his throat. As he placed his cup back on the table, he looked around. A certain pair of eyes had already been staring at him. A smile flashed on the Rogue Prince's face and dissappeared just as quickly. His attention turned back to his wife, leaving Aegon to drown in jealousy and resentment.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, wasn't the type that would get flustered easily. And yet, his hands were starting to sweat. He brushed his palms on the fabric that covered his thighs, then got up. He circled around his niece and nephew that were talking about Gods know what and stopped between Jace and Baela. His hand extended out towards the wine decanter. He poured himself another glass.

"I..." Aegon hesitated for a second there. He was sure he'd get an earful for what he was about to say, from both his mother and niece. "I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer."

The attention of everyone around the table had turned to him. They could all sense it, he was about to say something extremely idiotic and inappropriate.

"But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask."

Two pairs of hands slammed down on the table, both brother and sister rising to their feet. A sharp "Jace!" could be heard coming from lady Velaryon. Everyone heard it, except Jace. And his sister. The two stared down the young prince as he went back and took his seat, each for their own reasons.

"Pray tell, Aegon, was any of what you just did out there really necessary!?" She practically yelled as she slammed the doors of his chambers shut.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" He yelled back. Of course he was drunk. Has there ever been a time when he wasn't...

"You brat, I haven't seen my family in ages!" She shoved him hard. "Leave it to you and your brother to ruin everything..."

"I am your family, aren't I?" The prince croaked, his throat had gone as dry as a desert.

"Don't you fucking dare, I refuse to play this little game with you, you-"

"Do you love him?" He interrupted.

The young Targaryen girl in front of him frowned, her face twisting in disgust.

"He's my brother, you arse."

"That doesn't answer my question now, does it?" He was pushing it. Really pushing.

"He's my fucking brother, Aegon! My baby brother! How could you even ask me such a thing with a straight face?!" Her small hands landed a hit after hit to his chest.

"Because I do." The prince caught her hands mid-air, eliciting a shocked gasp out of the girl.

"I love you." His whole body shook as the words spilled out his mouth. " I think I've always loved you..."

His hands went back down to his sides, letting go of her. Aegon was quick to turn his back to her, letting the tears and sweat run down his face freely. He could feel it, he was about to vomit all over the floor.

"Oh, you insufferable twat!"

In the blink of an eye, Prince Aegon found himself facing the woman once more. His whole world melted seconds after.

A pair of soft lips crashed rather violently against his. Two gentle hands gripped each side of his face, still not sure whether or not they should claw his eyes out right where he stood. His found their way around her midsection as they fell, knees slamming into the cold floor.

She pulled back as he tried to deepen the kiss.

"I hate you so,so much...You complete and utter moron." The woman huffed as she brushed the silver locks off of his sweaty forehead.

"Marry me" it was more of a statement that it was a question.

"Huh?"

"You heard." His nose brushed against hers, a smile on his face.

"But...Helaena. And my mother. And your mother-"

"I've made my choice already. And you?"

She kissed him again, this time much softer. She'd made her choice long ago.

#aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #hotd #game of thrones #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #oneshot #accepting requests #aemond targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen #dance of dragons #rhaenyra targaryen

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lexiepiper · 2 years ago

Text

Strange Relations

Hey @five-rivers happy truce! Sorry for being a little bit late, life got crazy.

I combined two of your prompts - Prompt 2: Clockwork gets sick of how Jack and Maddie treat Danny and spirits him away. Jack and Maddie must prove to Clockwork that they'll do better by completing his challenges. Whether or not they succeed is up to you. Prompt 4: Soft and cozy body horror. Lots of tactile texture and gentleness. Positive ending. :)

I hope you enjoy it! I’m a big fan of a lot of your writing and so tried to embody your masterful grasp of the abstract and eldritch, with a few references to some of the different elements/versions of Danny I’ve seen in your works.

The fic can be read here on ao3, or in this tumblr post.

...

Time is a mortal construct. At least, the understanding of its measurement is. For Clockwork, the markers of its passage were far less significant. What care did he need to have for weekdays, or hours, or the amount of revolutions around the sun?

He measured by different means.

How long it took for his endangered plants to sprout, grow tall, and flower or bear fruit.

The stretching eddies of dynasties rising and falling, and the outward-extending ramifications throughout the history of humankind.

The slow, awful rhythms of celestial bodies that he could barely parse even after aeons of watching the universe unfold in their rippling influences.

Mostly, he measured his time through the things he observed. Once he interacted with something it became difficult to ascertain its final path — like ripples obscuring the bottom of a small pond if you tried to put your hand into the water. The image only stayed clear so long as he refrained from touching it.

That being said, it was another regular morning when Daniel Fenton’s parents shot him out of the sky for the one hundredth time. A Tuesday, if anybody was keeping track.

Clockwork measured time by things that piqued his interest. Patterns, irregularities, and notable things in between that brought him any sense of emotion beyond simple detached interest.

So, he noticed, and he cared. He cared enough to burn.

One hundred times.

He burned hot with anger, his core flaring with a fire that he’d forgotten he harboured, and Clockwork was no longer able to hold himself back from plunging his hand into the pond despite all of the restrictions and regulations that normally kept him in his place.

The parade vanished, his vision of the future clouded, and within a mere selection of months, Clockwork found himself on the cusp of crossing the threshold of one of the only spaces beyond the time stream.

The place had many names, as did its denizens. There was no true way to define them, and perhaps that was the point of it all. The building changed depending on the perspective from which one tried to take it in, its architecture shifting from angle to angle. One moment it seemed as though it was a drab twentieth-century office with soap-bubble windows and floors that reached into blurry uncertainty. Then the building shifted, almost imperceptibly, and its peeling brick facade melted into the carved columns of an ancient Greek pantheon, complete with a sprawling copse of ancient olive trees that quietly creaked as ghosts moved between them. A moment later, and it was a connected city of tents strung with colourful banners that fluttered in a nonexistent breeze, flaps propped open with sticks with seemingly no coherent system that could be discerned by the outside observer.

Clockwork drifted across an invisible barrier and it ruffled his essence like the sudden breath of air conditioning one felt when entering a supermarket on a hot day.

The tent city’s trampled grass shifted to polished tiles, smooth beneath Clockwork’s boots as his core sank into dormancy and bade him land. The lack of ability was discomfiting but he shook it off and walked purposefully to the revolving doors of a great glass skyscraper, his cloak drifting around his ankles pleasantly with the sudden gravitational assertion over his typically-spectral body.

Being forced into a single form was more unpleasant even than the temporary binding of his powers, but Clockwork spared at least a sliver of gratitude that his default was that of an adult that appeared to be roughly in his thirties. If he were a child or an old man, it might damage his chances, depending on the test that the council ended up choosing.

The door spun on its center pole as he approached, its glass panes flashing in the light of a swarm of tiny blob ghosts that flitted around its interior segments. Their cores, like those of the denizens of this zone, were unfettered, as they were not here with a petition for review. It was a relief to see them, enjoying the neutral safe space and clearly having fun as they bounced around the entryway with glee.

Their purity reminded him of the severity of his purpose here, and as he stepped into a gleaming glass lobby that shifted into a sun-washed garden an approximation of a secretary rose from the path in front of him. It was faceless and blank, and Clockwork stood still as it passed an appendage that might have been a hand over the clock casing embedded in his chest.

The being didn’t speak, but he understood nonetheless when it confirmed his identity as applicant Clockwork the Timekeeper.

The pleasant sound of running water deeper into the garden paused for a moment, and the intermingled murmur of voices and birdsong went quiet. He figured that it wasn’t every day that someone as consequential as himself came here, but he shrugged off the feeling of being observed. The lull was only brief, and ambient noise resumed before Clockwork could do more than wonder yet again if he’d chosen the correct course.

The wondering, in and of itself, was nothing new. As soon as he’d reached through his viewing screen to scoop up a bleeding Daniel his vision had clouded, and since then, he’d done nothing but wonder.

He could have tried to just keep the boy, to adopt him by force and never let him go back to the life and people who were so horrible to him, but as he followed the secretary down a path through verdant twelve-foot ferns dappled with sunlight and filled with flashes of jewelled dragonflies, Clockwork’s doubts faded. He reminded himself that by surrendering Daniel to the protective grasp of the impartial council while taking the time to go through all of the proper applications, nobody would be able to dispute his relationship with the child on the other side. It was the only way to make Daniel permanently, irrevocably his, and despite his current inability to see the outcome for himself, Clockwork knew that there was no way he would fail the test.

The path ended abruptly in a freestanding stone door, ornately decorated with a mosaic fresco of towering creatures that Clockwork didn’t recognise from any reality that he was privy to observing. It swung open soundlessly as he approached, and beyond its threshold stretched an unremarkable hallway. The paint was yellow with either age or poor lighting, or perhaps a combination of the two, and the floor was worn threadbare carpet that might have once been a colour but was now more of a faded light brown.

There were no doors or windows, and when Clockwork stepped onto the carpet the guide shut the freestanding door behind them, cutting off the light and sounds of the garden. He didn’t need to breathe, but the mustiness of the corridor stuck to his throat anyway, and he followed wordlessly when his guide kept moving.

It took several minutes for them to reach another door. This one matched the hallway they were in, being remarkably plain with a little brass plaque at head height.

He couldn’t read the language, but entered anyway when motioned to do so.

The guide didn’t follow, and the door clicked shut behind him as Clockwork blinked in the warm light that spilled through a large window. The room seemed to be a small office, but it was homely, with abstract artwork on the wall and nice armchairs both in front of and behind the desk.

The person sitting at the desk was also faceless, but unlike the neutral tones of the secretary, it was wearing flowing fabric that shimmered between cool tones with each small movement.

It gestured to one of the armchairs and Clockwork sat, feeling as welcomed as he would have by a smile and friendly words. It would have been rude to speak when his host did not, so he stayed quiet and exuded his own pleasantries nonverbally, as some ghosts were wont to do. It seemed to be the right move, because the person nodded and Clockwork sensed its warm appreciation.

It opened a drawer and produced a slim file, sliding it across the desk to rest in front of him, and Clockwork recognised the paperwork that he had so painstakingly filled out over the past several months. The registration and application process had been long and arduous, and Daniel had been kept from all interested parties for the duration. He’d been kept here, in fact, but Clockwork knew that he had no hope of interacting with the boy before the petition trial was complete.

He skimmed through the papers, noting the extra stamp at the end of each page. The final page had a line to sign, and when he glanced up at the faceless being it beckoned for him to hold out his hand.

He did so, and it drew off his glove, exposing the pale blue flesh of Clockwork’s palm. With a sharp swipe a letter opener flashed across his hand and green ectoplasm welled in its wake, and Clockwork allowed his hand to be tilted so that a few drops fell onto the paper just above the line. It soaked in until it disappeared, leaving the white parchment spotless, and then Clockwork’s name etched itself out in flowing green script.

The person nodded approvingly and offered a strip of plain white cloth, which Clockwork allowed it to use to bandage his bleeding hand. Usually such a trifle wouldn’t be an issue, with the power to simply shift time around the wound and immediately heal, but with his abilities bound by this interdimensional space he would have to make do with the far more mundane option.

He reclaimed his glove but tucked it into his belt when the person shook its head at his attempt to put it back on. The bandage on his hand stood out starkly against the dark tones of his clothing, and he realised that it was a badge of honour, signifying that he’d come far enough to be considered a candidate for the judgement.

The being shuffled the papers back into order and rose from its chair, tilting its head in an unspoken request to follow when it moved towards the door. Clockwork complied, and when it opened he was not faced with the same hallway that he’d walked down before, but a large atrium filled with silver light that spilled through a delicately domed glass ceiling.

They entered on one of the upper levels that hugged the round wall of the space. It was a narrow walkway that led to individual evenly-spaced boxes, each holding a single seat. They called to mind witness boxes, although the chairs were carved from the same marble as the walls and floors, and inlaid with plush green velvet.

The lower level of the room was blocked from view by a shimmering barrier of black smoke that sparkled as though filled with stars. Clockwork watched it as he walked, and it drifted with the slow, soothing movements of gentle eddies. He looked up again once they reached the nearest box, and allowed himself to be ushered into the seat. It was even softer than it looked, and once he sat the same starry mist rose around him and cut off all sight.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long, but quieted any irritation at the delay. Time was nothing, after all. He just needed to win the case for custody of Daniel, and then there would be all of the time in the universe, both known and unknown.

He comforted himself with that knowledge, and whiled away the waiting by planning the things that he’d do once he took Daniel home. It was a topic that had become a favourite among his daydreams, and he’d already prepared a room that was draped in constellations and held all of the comforts that the boy could possibly want. Beyond that, he’d already begun to make changes to Long Now. The clock tower, while perfect for Clockwork alone, was not conducive to the rounded development of a child’s core. As he’d laboured through the application process, Clockwork had changed much, working on making shared spaces like the kitchen and garden habitable for a halfa, and private spaces, such as his own viewing room, at least safe for Daniel to spend time in should the opportunity arise. After all, children always ended up where one least expected them to be able to reach.

His ability to sense time was unavailable here, but Clockwork still felt that his wait stretched for longer than was comfortable. He resisted the urge to leave his seat for a stretch, since technically he didn’t need one. This may be a part of the process itself, determining if he possessed the necessary patience to nurture a wilful creature such as Daniel.

Some time later, the smoke around him thinned, then dissolved in a breath of cool air. Clockwork blinked in the silver light, realising that since he had sat down he had been unable to hear anything aside from the small chimes and noises of his own internal rhythms. Now, he recognised the low murmur of voices in a tongue he couldn’t comprehend, and when he glanced down toward the noise he saw a platform jutting from the wall just above the cloudy barrier that was still in place below. It was crammed with figures that blurred Clockwork’s vision, and whenever he tried to focus on a single detail all others slipped into fuzziness until he could no longer recall anything.

These must be members of the infamous council, removed from the affairs of the infinite realms and truly impartial in every meaning of the term. They stood only for justice and harmony, maintaining delicate balances and judging only the most significant cases across realities.

Clockwork glanced up at the giant moon through the window, the source of the brilliant silver light. It was peppered with craters not dissimilar to Earth’s, likely to help put Daniel at ease with what he would be going through right now, and stars blazed in the cosmos that outlined the moon in a thin band between its edge and the round windowpane.

The same smoke that had shrouded him also drifted around the other boxes, which had been empty when he had first entered the atrium, and Clockwork tried not to show interest as it began to thin and reveal the people within.

Of course, Vladimir Masters would have been one to request inclusion as a candidate. He sat smugly in his space in the full ghastly splendour of his ghost form, and as his shroud dissolved into nothing he smirked at the other candidates before looking at Clockwork with a clearly confused lack of recognition.

The sight of the other two candidates, each in their own individual boxes, struck Clockwork’s soul like a flint, setting loose a spark of anger that he fought to keep from showing on his face. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and keep his hands loose in his lap, resisting the urge to grind his teeth as Madeline and Jack Fenton looked around. Their expressions were slack with awe, mouths open and eyes wide as they gazed at the surrounding splendour which they should have never had a right to witness.

He tamped down on the unruly emotion, reminding himself that each of them had a solid claim on Daniel, and that this was the only fair way to determine true rights to parentage. There was nobody else, and he was initially surprised at the lack of Frostbite, considering the level of support that he had provided over the past few years. He wondered if the relationship was less one of parentage and more one of worship and awe that blended into camaraderie, but brushed off any suppositions before they could colour his perception. Conjecture was useless right now, and he knew that he’d be able to piece things together later, once his powers were restored.

Madeline opened her mouth and clearly called for her husband, but no sound left her lips. Her brow pinched in building panic, and she tried again, with the same result. Vladimir waved a hand and her attention snapped to him, her panic melting into something harder and more accusatory as he shook his head and pressed his fingers to the hollow in his own throat.

Clockwork wondered at the display. Surely they’d been briefed as to the rules of the trial, including the inability to communicate verbally once it had commenced so that they would not be able to distract Daniel or each other throughout the process. Now that he saw who he was competing with for custody he wondered if this safeguard was to also arrest any untoward exchanges between ghosts and hunters.

A soft chime rang through the atrium, and all four of them looked down at the group of assembled judges. The speech in the unknown tongue had stopped, and they were gathered in a perfect line along their platform, watching silently. One rose from the middle of the line, floating into the centre of the room and nodding to each of the applicants in turn. You each hold claim to Daniel James Fenton Phantom as your child, a genderless voice whispered inside Clockwork’s mind, and each of you in turn has passed the preliminary application process when you were informed of the request for a custody ruling. This trial will determine which, if any, of you can recognise his deepest needs and see beyond your own ideals to accept who he truly is.

Out of the children below, all of them are the one to which you lay claim. You will see all stages of his becoming as individual persons. To pass this trial, you must understand him deeply enough to know which form is his final one, and offer a contrite and willing heart to heal his hurts and nurture him as he truly requires.

Take as long as you need, and from this moment, you will not be able to meet each other’s eyes or share any information that you may glean with other candidates.

May balance and justice be restored.

A stillness settled over Clockwork’s soul, all anger and irritation at his competition melting away as the chime sounded again and the judge returned to their spot in the line. The barrier of mist dispersed, revealing a round open space below them. There was a plush green carpet scattered with white pillows and blankets, and dozens of children were strewn amongst the softness.

Each one of them was Daniel, in varying stages of being and becoming.

Clockwork glimpsed a flash of pain on Jack Fenton’s face before his vision tunnelled, and then he could see nothing but the children bathed in silver light.

Daniel lay on a large floor cushion, breathing heavily as smoke coiled from his singed hair and clothing. His fresh lichtenberg scar pulsed an angry, deadly green, visible even through the suit that his parents had so lovingly custom made, unaware that it would become his funerary shroud. His uninjured hand lay over his heart as he panted, eyes closed, pain clear in his furrowed brows and gritted teeth.

The echo of black bones was barely there, but when he sucked in another breath one could glimpse deep, dark eye sockets and a jawline like a smudge of charcoal beneath semi-translucent skin that held the blue pall of death.

It was hardly his truest form, but still, the moment of his death was difficult to see.

Clockwork caught his cheek between his teeth and looked at the others.

One Daniel held himself like a superhero, hands on his hips and his shoulders thrown back with a jaunty smile on his face. His hair and white cape rustled in a nonexistent wind and he just… stood there, suspended in a snapshot of time.

Nearby slept the featureless figure of a child bathed in the fabric of the night sky, every inch of skin liquid with a flowing firmament that dripped and swirled with the rise and fall of his small, fragile chest. He stirred but did not wake, murmuring wordless nonsense sounds of contentment from whatever dreamland had claimed him. He was laying on one of the white blankets with his head resting on a folded arm, and another blanket pooled around his lower half, giving the impression of the night sky glimpsed through a gap between clouds.

As Clockwork watched, the stars and galaxies on his skin of liquid darkness bloomed into brilliant nebulae and sank into spirals that grew ever brighter as they dropped into cores of black holes, and it was as though he were watching the entire unfolding of a universe contained within a single person.

Beyond, there was commotion. Daniel’s wings were coming in, and he shivered as plumes of feathers overtook him in sprays that created layer upon layer of new appendages. There was an aborted noise, as though he tried to cry out, but then that dissolved into gentle bell-like chimes that slowly smoothed into a calmer cadence. The darkness in his hair and clothing were quickly overcome, melting away into more and more soft fluff until he was nothing more than a mass of glowing white feathers and wings draped with silken fabric. The child hovered momentarily, as though uncertain, before shivering again and fluttering over to sink into a pile of pillows and blankets that had been arranged to resemble a nest, perfectly sized for this new form.

Yet another Daniel was also changing, splitting beyond his skin until the husk of a body disintegrated into nothing and released a cloud of lime green essence that roiled and foamed until it dripped down into the gelatinous shape of a blob ghost. It peered around with wide green eyes devoid of whites or pupils, quivering but not yet able to take any greater form. When nothing else seemed to happen it began to fly around the room, moving frantically at first like a trapped bird, but slowly settling into a more leisurely pace once the shock of the change wore off and it found no way to leave.

There were many more, a few scores at least, and Clockwork took the time to carefully observe each and every one of them from his vantage point high up on the wall. While many seemed initially confused or distressed, and some even pained, they all slowly drifted into various stages of calm restfulness. One factor that linked each child was a note of softness, whether overt like the feathered shape or the space child, or more subdued, like the smudged bones and gentle smoke of Daniel’s first ghostly iteration, or the way that some of the harsher forms blurred into wisps at the edges, as though unfinished.

This was, after all, a distillation of essence. They were all Daniel, but only one of them was what he became when purified down into his truest form. Clockwork just needed to put aside any latent bias he might still hold, and look for the version that embodied Daniel at his most honest self.

There was one that caught Clockwork’s attention, sitting on a floor cushion with his head tilted up to watch the moon beyond the domed glass ceiling. His eyes were voids of darkness swathed with stars, and his slender body drifted like smoke when he moved to adjust his position.

He was clothed in a loose starry shirt that frayed at the edges into a pattern of Amity Park’s skyline lit with street lights and suburban buildings, but when he moved again the hemline morphed into an imitation of the swirling eddies of the ghost zone.

His death scar faded the longer he looked up at the sky until it was nothing more than the barest impression of a shadow on his skin, and stress lines smoothed away from his face as his mouth curved into a soft smile. He was wearing plain dark pants, form-fitting but clearly comfortable, and his feet were bare, toes curling in the thick green carpet as though it were grass. There were frost flowers in his hair and the stars in his eyes glinted blue and green as he stared straight to the heavens.

This child was equal parts incorporeal and solid, his past painful traumas clear but exactly that: in the past. His frame was so small and appeared frail in comparison to many of the others, but his aura shone beyond his boundaries with a soft, steady glow. Clockwork sensed a childlike curiosity that had not been present in the others, clear with a desire to drink in the knowledge of the universe in a safe environment at his own pace.

He shook himself when he realised that he’d been staring at this child for far longer than the rest. This version of Daniel was everything that Clockwork wanted for him, but just as he prepared to make his choice, he paused.

Was this truly Daniel, or simply the Daniel that he wished for? This was a test, after all. Each candidate must see a version that embodied what they desired the most in a child.

No, the true question here was which form embodied what Daniel most desired.

Clockwork looked again, carefully examining each version of the child he hoped to adopt. He would only get one chance at this, and if he failed, he would not be permitted to see Daniel again. He had to get this right.

He surveyed the room several more times, and each time, he was drawn back to the one staring up at the sky. Slowly, as he eliminated each other version as possibly being Daniel’s true self, he realised that perhaps the reason that he was so drawn to the peaceful, inquisitive, happy person who seemed to truly embody the balance between life and death was because this was the way things were meant to be. Clockwork knew Daniel as well as he knew himself, and he knew when he recognised the essence of the child that belonged in the safety of his care.

He made his decision, clasping his hands and leaning back in his seat. His vision cleared as he did so and restored his view of the rest of the room, revealing again the line of impassive, featureless judges and the other three people trying to lay their claims in this soul-deep custody battle.

It appeared that Madeline and Vladimir had finished ahead of him, which was expected, given the amount of times Clockwork had reviewed what he saw before choosing his child. They were both looking about the room and occasionally glancing down at the children, but none of their eyes met the other candidates’. Much of the pomp and pride had drained away from both of them, the hard lines of their shoulders and jaws smoothing into something gentler.

He turned away from them and looked back up at the moon. Now that he was removed from the pressure of choice he felt a wash of anguish for the changes that Daniel had clearly gone through, mindful of the pain and confusion he would have felt as he had cycled through those different forms until he had settled into his essence. It chafed, knowing that Clockwork had not been there to comfort him during the different stages of becoming.

Movement from the adjacent box caught his attention and Clockwork glanced over to see Jack Fenton still staring at the assortment of Daniels. Tears freely flowed from puffy red eyes and he wiped his bandaged hand beneath his nose before mouthing Daniel’s nickname. It was both fascinating and satisfying in equal parts, but Clockwork looked away quickly, trying to school himself lest the judges sense anything untoward in his feelings and dismiss his claim on the basis of unacceptable levels of bias. He didn’t know if it was a possibility in this case, but he'd heard of it happening before and didn’t want to take the risk.

Besides, he admitted to himself for the first time, if Jack was here then he clearly showed enough determination to care for Daniel’s needs and right past wrongs to qualify for a claim.

It took a while longer for Jack to make a decision, and Clockwork watched his own preferred child in the interim. The longer he looked the more peaceful he felt, surer with every passing moment that he had made the correct choice.

Eventually Jack leaned back, scrubbing his hands over his drenched cheeks as his shoulders trembled with silent residual sobs.

The dark starry barrier rolled back over the lowest tier, hiding the children from view once more. The judges dissipated into nothing and their platform melted away, leaving a smooth, featureless patch of wall in their wake.

Clockwork turned when something shifted beside him, and a guide who could have been the same one from earlier beckoned for him to leave through a door that materialised in the stretch of wall behind them.

He obeyed, sending one last glance to the people who had dared to challenge his claim to custody as they were similarly ushered away. Madeline frowned when she finally caught his gaze, and he only had a brief moment to wonder what she was thinking before he stepped into an office that mirrored the one in which he had signed the papers, except that the artworks on the walls were hand-painted starscapes interspersed with planets and nebulae that he didn’t recognise.

Through a door on the opposite wall stepped Jack Fenton.

A judge was waiting behind the desk, and motioned for the two of them to sit. Clockwork moved numbly, his mind racing as he took one of the armchairs while Jack collapsed into the other one. The man was still crying, the cuffs of his sleeves and the white bandage around one hand soggy from repeatedly wiping his face.

The judge looked to both of them in turn, the only indication of its shifting focus a subtle turning of the head. Congratulations on your joint custody of Daniel James Fenton Phantom, that same soft not-voice said, slipping between Clockwork’s thoughts. The pre-prepared living space in Long Now has been approved as his new residence, with minor changes required to accommodate the presence of Jack Fenton. No other persons are to interact with your child for the next six months without the approval of this court while he settles into his distilled form, and neither of you will leave him throughout this process.

Neither Vladimir Masters or Madeline Fenton are permitted to interact with your child from this moment on, and any ties they have to his soul or emotions will be severed immediately.

Congratulations on your joint adoption. Daniel has been moved to a comfortable waiting room to rest now that he has completed his initial process of becoming and assigned his parents. A guide will collect you presently. Once you have completed the introductory course in the next room, the two of you are free to collect your child, and return with him to your home.

May balance and justice be forever upheld.

The judge disappeared as a chime rang through the room, clear and true, and Clockwork’s core seized as his ticking clock skipped a beat. The universe shifted around them, and a deep, primal tie to Daniel imprinted itself upon him so firmly that Clockwork’s entire view of existence shifted.

He… he had a child.

Daniel was his child.

And…

Massaging his clock casing, he looked over at Jack Fenton, who was clutching his own chest. His eyes were wide, mouth opening and closing as he seemed to struggle to keep up with what had just happened.

Clockwork swallowed as the tightness that had been in his throat since the trial commenced fell away, and he sighed. The sound was a quiet chime, like a distant grandfather clock in the middle of the night, and then he shifted so that he turned in his seat to more fully face the person who, against all odds, had somehow managed to glimpse the truth of Daniel’s soul enough to gain shared custodial rights.

“Hello, Jack,” he said, surprised at how soft his tone was. Gone was the bite of anger that had been there previously, replaced with the recognition of a person whose goals and parenthood aligned with his own. “I figure that since we’re to share our child, we should at least know each other’s names: I am Clockwork the Timekeeper, longtime mentor and new parent to Daniel. I hope that despite our differences, we can work in harmony to help him become the best version of himself, whatever that may be.”

He smiled, showing just the barest hint of fangs, and Jack baulked for just a moment before visibly gathering himself and taking a deep breath in. “Nice to meet you, Clockwork,” he said, and to his credit, his voice barely trembled, though his eyes were still watery with the threat of further tears. He clearly glanced at the scar over Clockwork’s eye before looking away quickly. “I guess, since Danno’s a halfa, one parent from each side makes some kind of sense, right?”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. “I never thought of it like that,” he confessed, leaning back in his seat. “And you don’t know it yet, but lack of knowledge is a rarity for me.”

Jack frowned. “So… we’ll be living in this Long Now place?”

“I’m assuming that your profession makes you at least passingly familiar with the concept of lairs,” Clockwork said. “It will be comfortable, and after six months have passed you will be able to come and go as you please. As much as this is unexpected, you’re right — it does make sense.”

Jack swallowed. “So, uh… what now? I feel like I should know more about you, and about Danny.”

“I’ll try to answer your questions, but I expect that someone will come to move us to the introductory program soon.”

He nodded, brow furrowing in thought. “Right, okay then. I’ll just ask a few questions while we wait, since you seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you. Um… uh… okay, I have to know. Do ghosts like fudge?”

He was an all-knowing, powerful being, an embodiment of control of the concept of time itself. Yet, in this tiny office, with his powers bound and with no ability to see the future beyond his own powers of logical deduction, Clockwork never would have guessed in a million years that this would be the first thing that Jack Fenton would ask.

It reminded him so much of Daniel that he couldn’t help but smile. It looked like, no matter how chaotic everything ended up becoming, things were going to work out just fine.

#lexiepiper #holiday truce 2022 #Danny Phantom

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years ago

Note

since we are on the subject of fic recs…i’ve got to be the one to ask… got and smut recs?

(also you’re very cool and a talented writer)

LB what have you been up to for the last few days you've been MIA from tumblr? The answer is having uni-induced mental breakdowns and sorting through the entire explicit Feysand archives on AO3. I’ve been organizing these rec lists by authors but I've sorted this one by theme so it’s easier for people to find what kind of smut suits their tastes. This is a very comprehesive list so I'm putting it under a read more.

I also tried to be strict about only including compeleted one-shots/two-shots but I did make some exceptions because they are too good not to include. Incomplete fics are marked with a 🙏 because I'm praying that one day the authors will bless us with more glorious content <33

✨= Feyre pov, 🌙 = Rhys pov

Disclaimer: regardless of how I've sorted these fics, please read the tags and the author's summary of the fics themselves and read at your own discretion. 🔞

Canon Compliant smut: Sex scenes with similar vibes to the Feysand sex life we saw in canon. (Very tender and loving, usually involves Rhys being a passionate simp for his High Lady)

Saturated Sunset ✨ - Rhys goes to pieces when he sees Feyre in a new set of lacy underthings (as he should)

Tease 🌙 - set in ACoMaF, Feyre gets revenge for that sexy vision Rhys sent her

Paint Me ✨ - Paintbrush play meets sensitive Illyrian wings

Chapter 55 🌙 - Rhys pov of all that sweet chapter 55 goodness.

Out of the Shadows 🌙 - Rhys pov of chapter 48 (inn scene)

Break ‘Em Out ✨ - Wingplay.

Live Another Day ✨ - An extended look into the tent scene in acowar.

The Wall ✨ - The High Lord and Lady get frisky an an alleyway in Velaris.

From Sunup to Sundown ✨ - What if Feyre had felt the mating bond snap on Starfall?

Moving Forward ✨ - Rhys comes home to see his High Lady admiring herself in lingerie.

You ✨ - An alternate version of the Inn Scene, where Feyre admits she wants Rhys.

Paint Me A Picture ✨ - Feysand find a loophole to a wedding tradition that forbids them from seeing each other the night before they're wed.

A Sweet Treat ✨🌙- a sweet Halloween inspired fic that has copious amounts of smut.

Training ✨ - Feyre got stuck in some rope while training. Oh no, help me step-High Lord I'm stuck.

Like what you see? ✨ - Feyre pays Rhys back for the vision on the roof with one of her own.

Unfinished Buisness ✨ - Feyre has a wet dream and Rhys decides to help it come to life.

Moonshine ✨ - Feyre bathes a very drunken, horny Rhysand (it's surprisngly wholesome).

Therapy ✨ - Feyre massages Rhysand's knee on a rainy day and the two of them get a little carried away.

a united front ✨ - Rhys gets Feyre a sexy gift to wear during an event that keeps them both distracted.

smooth ✨ - Feyre learns about body hair removal and Rhys is happy to help his High Lady feel confident in her body (this one is so sweet 🥺)

Birthday Regards 🌙 - Feyre gets Rhys an extra special present for his birthday.

Something Missing ✨ - Wing kink meets the paint kink. I love this one because it's so playful without sacrificing any of the passion.

This is How I See You 🌙 - Feyre is feeling insecure about her postpartum body and Rhys reminds how beautiful he finds her.

Just Like Her ✨ - an acomaf AU where Feyre and Rhys decided to be honest with each other after the CoN throne scene.

Make love before war ✨ - A closer look into frenzied sex in the Windhaven cabin after Cassian and Rhys finished fighting.

Darling I'd Hang the Stars For You 🌙 - this one is just so stinkin cute. The desperately in love Rhys we all adore, showing his devotion to his High Lady the way he knows best.

midnight blue citrus 🌙 - a power outaged timed perfectly with Feyre being in the shower so Rhys could bravely come to her rescue.

Make Your Good Love Known to Me ✨ - Rhys gives Feyre a very thorough massage to help her relax after a long day of training.

First Time Encounters: Feysand don’t know a lot about one another, but they do know they’re both very sexy people who should do naughty things to each other.

The Rules of the Game 🌙 - AU where Feysand meet in the Hewn city and shameless flirting ensues, among other things.

'cause my kiss goes down you like some sweet alcohol c - A stranger in a bar can't seem to keep his eyes off Feyre.

I could drink a whole damn case ✨ - Feyre goes to a bar to move on from her breakup and happens to meet eyes with the most alluring stranger.

A Letter to Satan 🌙 - Feyre sends a letter to Santa asking him to bring her a good fuck for Christmas... except she might have accidentally swapped a few letters.

Bite Me, Prick ✨ - Feyre is dared to spend the night in a spooky castle, and happens to meet a very interesting resident. (Aka the Feysand vampire smut we never knew we needed).

Frenzy/sex-pollen/calanmai/and other mating-bond shenanigans: besties just can’t control their lust for each other

All the Pieces Fall Right Into Place ✨- Calanmai fuck or die. I put this here instead of in Dub-con because it’s set at a point in the books they both (secretly) wanted each other.

Fire Night ✨ - if the calanmai chapter in acotar had gone a little differently.

Frenzy ✨ - Feyre is in “heat” and her smell drives Rhys crazy

Hate Me If It Helps 🌙 - Acomaf set pre-mating in which Feyre is exposed to an aphrodisiac and Rhys has no choice but to help.

You Don't Know What Hell You've Put Me Through ✨ - human Feyre is effected by sex-pollen and luckily there is a generous High Lord nearby to help her out.

Never Done (At Least For Tonight) 🌙✨ - Set between acomaf/acowar. Feyre and Rhys are both struggling and the mating bond bring them together in their sleep.

In Darkness She is All I See 🌙 - Feyre and Rhys accidentally consume a cherry pie laced with an aphrodisiac while visiting the new High Rulers of the Spring Court. (Part of the Cherry Pie Smut Extraveganza)

All Mine ✨ - Feyre gets jealous watching Cresseida flirt with her mate.

Dom/sub (but still loving): In which Feysand get experimental in the bedroom

Silk Ties ✨ - Feyre and Rhys try out some bondage in the bedroom. (soft dom Rhys)

The Midnight Feast 🌙 - Rhys is awakened by Feyre having a very nice dream about him. (Consensual somnophilia + dom Rhys)

they know you walk like you're a god (they can't believe I made you weak) ✨ - the Feyre pegging Rhys fic that will make my feyre's dick anon very happy.

We're All Just Animals ✨ - Feysand run into Issac in the mortal realm and jealous, possessive sex ensues.

to take, to worship ✨ - Gentle dom Rhys giving his Feyre exactly what she needs. (mild somnophilia + dom Rhys)

Fifty-Six ✨- The Feysand mating frenzy we were robbed of in ACoMaF. Includes gratuitous use of the words "good girl". (possessive sex + spanking)

Topped ✨ - More Rhys getting pegged content, because we deserve it.

Take It Off 🌙 - Feyre goes away on a trip and Rhys can't stand to be parted from her. Rough/vaguely possessive sex ensues when she gets back. (mutual masterbation + rough sex)

say you're mine 🌙- Rhys sees Feyre sitting with Tarquin and feels the need to remind Feyre who she belongs to. (possessiveness + rough sex + spanking)

lost in the way you move ✨ - Rhys comes home late and Feyre decides to "punish" him for it. (Dom Feyre)

you best believe that I got something up my sleeve 🌙- Cassian gifts Feysand a fleshlight and some experimental smut ensues. (cock/ball worship + begging + edging + toys)

Bindings and Blindfolds ✨ - Feyre uses some new toys to take control in the bedroom. (bondage and light BDSM)

I'm gonna make sure I'm the best you ever had ✨ - Another Rhys getting pegged fic because we as a fandom all know he'd lose his mind over his High Lady wanting to fuck him.

Pinned 🌙- Rhys drugs Feyre so she can't talk or move while he has his fun (consensually, ofc). Includes dirty talk that had me sweating.

Lessons ✨ - Feyre and Rhys decide to experiment with some kinks in the bedroom. (blind folds + handcuffs + merciless teasing, they each switch between dom/sub)

all the way down 🌙 - Feyre and Rhys try out their new sex swing.

we don't gotta hide this is what you like ✨ - Feyre and Rhys escape their party for a quick rondevouz in the bedroom. (oral sex + anal sex).

Feysand + guests 😏: for the sake of time, just go into these knowing they're all kinky as shit.

A Solstice to Remember ✨ - Feyre joins the batboys in the Solstice birchin.

Tell Me What You Want ✨ - Feyre and the batboys in their bedroom.

The Birchin ✨ - SJM may be a tease but the Feysand smut authors sure aren't 🙏

A Prythian Fertility Rite - The Inner Circle orgy you didn't know you wanted

Spindle's Thread - Cassian joins Feysand in bed (Cassian's POV)

in the night there is only you ✨ - Cass and Az enjoying Feyre while Rhys watches

follow me down the rabbit hole ✨ - Threesome between Helion/Feysand.

The High Lord, The High Lady, and the Spymaster - A delicious series of fics documenting the bedroom adventures of Rhys/Feyre/Azriel.

Look Who's Wet Now ✨ - Feyre + the bat boys having arguably too much fun in a swimming pool.

New Depths ✨ - Feyre and Rhys decide to try out some new things in the bedroom, including inviting a certain Autumn male to join them. (Feysand/Lucien)

Playtime ✨- Feyre decides to take Rhys up on his offer to have Helion join them in their bed.

Feyre and the Batboys ✨ - it's exactly as the title says and it's absolutely filthy (in the best way).

multiply- Lucien decides to join Feyre and Rhys in the shower. (Luicen pov)

Summerboy ✨ - In a visit to Summer Court, Feysand decide to invite Tarquin to their bed.

Court of Nightmares: either one or both of them assuming their CoN mask (with consent). Again, these are all exceptionally kinky. Please check the tags before you read!

At the Nightmare Court 🌙 - Feysand roleplaying the High Lord and his pet in the throne room.

What I've Shown You In The Dark ✨ - High Lord Rhys reminds Feyre who she belongs to

the world fades away ✨ - Feysand attend a CoN orgy and decide to have some fun of their own.

War Meetings are Dull 🌙 - Feyre gets a bit "touchy" at a high lords meeting and when they get home, Rhys shows her the repercussions.

Till Death Do Us Part ✨ - Essentially, Rhys takes Feyre into his sexy dungeon to have his filthy way with her.

Espionage 🌙 - Set in acowar. Tamlin brings Feyre to the CoN as a means to gloat and Rhys plays his CoN mask to perfection.

I was in the darkness so darkness I became ✨- How the CoN throne scene would have gone if Feysand had the restraint we wished they had (as in none at all).

Court of Nightmares? More like Court of "Pull My Hair" ✨ - Feyre and Rhysand need to find other means of entertainment while at the Court of Nightmares.

What I've Shown You In The Dark ✨ - Rhys takes Feyre to the Court of Nightmares to remind her who she belongs to.

Hate fucking: Honestly I thought there were way more of these fics when I made this category, so please enjoy this apparently very niche smut.

Fuck You, Feyre Darling ✨ - Feysand hate sex UtM

Ride home ✨ - Rhysand asks Feyre for a blowjob in exchange for a ride home. There’s only one issue—she hates him with a passion.

Sinful Chemistry ✨ - Porn actress Feyre Archeron can't stand her new co-star.

I do bad things with you ✨ - Feyre accidentally kisses her roommate. I had trouble placing this one, but I think the tension between them is reminiscent of hate fucking.

Daddy Rhys Supremacy: Tragically underrepresented in this fandom, if you ask me. Everyone drink this kool aid so we can have a longer list.

Can't Keep My Hands to Myself ✨- Written by yours truly. A prompt heavy Sugar daddy oneshot.

i'll take care of you ✨ - Rhys helps Feyre forget about her long day by taking control.

Tempt My Trouble ✨🙏- mafia AU meets sugar daddy AU and very intense sexy times ensue.

The Mist ✨🙏 - Feyre performs as a stripper for the first time and quickly catches the eye of the club's owner.

Guys My Age ✨🙏 - Feyre's steamy one night stand reappears in her life in the most inconvenient way.

Dub-con, dark-fic, dark Rhys: Feminism? Who is she?

In the Woods Somewhere ✨ - Feyre and Rhys share lucid dreams with each other while he's UtM. He decides to take something he wants for once.

Bound for More✨ - Feyre is chosen as the virign sacrifice for her village, but the monster doesn't seem very interseted in killing her...

Where we keep our nightmares 🌙 - An absolutely heart wrenching fic about Rhys overcoming his UtM trauma and Feyre doing her best to help him through it.

Under the Mountain ✨ - After Amarantha finds Rhys and Feyre kissing in the cave, she makes Rhys keep going while the rest of the court is made to watch.

your body reacting ✨ - Feyre's second trail UtM is having sex with Rhys.

Dead Dove: the ones where you learn things about yourself you don’t think you could even tell your therapist about. These are all non-con.

King Under the Mountain ✨ - UtM where dark!Rhys is High King and Feyre becomes his personal pet.

Lead Me Not Into Temptation ✨ - Lady of Spring Feyre gets kidnapped and taken back to the NC to be shared between the batboys.

At the Edge of Forever ✨ - On Feyre's wedding night, Rhysand comes to claim his right to the first night.

Ravenous ✨- Driven mad by loneliness and Amarantha's torture Under the Mountain, and unaware of their connection, Rhys takes young Feyre by force to sate his uncontrollable lust.

june in her eyes, in her heart january ✨ - Feyre and Rhysand break Tamlin's mind and use his body to ensure spring court will have an heir.

#I now present to you... this fucking thing #the descent to hell is this rec list #see you all there #I ask only that if you use this list you leave each of these glorious authors kudos and a nice comment #they deserve nothing less #did you all learn a lot about me?#I feel like I learned a lot about me #my boyfriend looked over at this list while I was working on the latter half bahahaha #he was on headset with his mates so he couldn't say anything but he gave me a look like 'I see what you're up to over there'#feysand #feysand smut #feysand fic #fic recs #acotar smut

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alphynix · 3 years ago

Photo

Retro vs Modern #16: Uintatherium anceps

Discovered in the Western United States during the early 1870s, Uintatherium anceps was part of one of the earlier major conflicts in the the Bone Wars. Nearly 30 different scientific names were applied to various fossil specimens of this mammal in under two decades, and the taxonomic tangle wasn't properly sorted out until nearly a century later in the 1960s when they were recognized as actually all being the same species.

1870s

Paleontologist Edward Cope considered Uintatherium (under the name "Loxolophodon") and its close relatives to be proboscideans – part of the elephant lineage – due to some of the similarities in their anatomy. The first reconstruction of these animals showed this version, depicting elephant-like animals with downward-pointing tusks, short tapir-like trunks, and the multiple bony projections on their skulls speculatively shown as attachment points for large antler-like horns.

Cope's rival Othniel Marsh heavily criticised that interpretation of Uintatherium, arguing that these huge mammals were instead a separate group within the ungulates named dinoceratans – although this wasn't really as huge of a classification difference as it seems today, since at the time proboscideans were also considered to be ungulates!

The dinoceratan ungulate interpretation quickly won out, and for a while in the 20th century Uintatherium actually became a fairly popular and well-known prehistoric mega-mammal, commonly included in collections of cheap plastic "dinosaurs" and usually depicted as more of a knobbly-headed sabertoothed rhino.

2020s

In recent years the dinoceratans seem to have fallen into obscurity and some degree of paleontological neglect, with little modern work on the group and no major studies for the last couple of decades – although this might be starting to change.

Despite the early ideas about them being ungulates, the evolutionary relationships of dinoceratans have become much more murky over the last century or so. Due to different elements of their anatomy being highly convergent with various other mammals it's easy to find "false positives" in morphological comparisons, and they've been proposed as being connected to a wide variety of groups including "condylarths", "insectivores", rodents, and cimolestans. But some mid-2010s research suggests they were in fact ungulates after all, closely related to early South American forms like Carodnia – a lineage whose own evolutionary relationships are murky, but may have close affinities with modern horses, rhinos, and tapirs.

We now know Uintatherium anceps lived across the Western and South Central USA during the mid-Eocene, about 46-40 million years ago, at a time when warm wet climates extended up into the Arctic and lush tropical-style rainforests covered much of the continent.

It was similar in size and build to a modern white rhino, about 4m long (13') and stood around 1.7m tall at the shoulder (5'7"). It had three distinctive pairs of "horns" on its forehead, snout, and nose, that were similar in structure to the ossicones of giraffids, probably covered in skin and hair rather than keratin. Its elongated canine teeth were protected by bony flanges on its lower jaw, and seem to have been a sexually dimorphic feature that was much more prominent in males.

It also had an oddly concave skull, with its forehead dipping inwards, and an unusually tiny braincase for its size. It probably wasn't a particularly intelligent animal, but it didn't really need to be – as one of the first types of herbivorous mammal to get truly huge in the early Cenozoic, a fully-grown Uintatherium probably had no natural predators at all.

———

Nix Illustration | Tumblr | Twitter | Patreon

#retro vs modern 2022 #science illustration #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #uintatherium #uintatheriidae #dinocerata #ungulate #mammal #art #sabertooth

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where-is-francis · 2 years ago

Note

Chrissy dating a male! Reader who is becoming a nurse headcanons

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝘾𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙢 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙉𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

Before You Interact - Rules Of My Blog

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: He/Him — she refers to you as her boyfriend [fem aligned DNI with this particular post]

𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚: Pure fluff bc Chrissy deserves better :)

𝘼/𝙉: This was what I had completely written out like last week and went to post it and my tumblr fucking ate it. :) anyways, we’re back now. Also you’re in your first year of nursing/med school when Chrissy is a senior. I hope this is like. Alright. I was pretty young when my sister went to school for nursing so I remember a bit, but not much.

𝙏𝙒: Very very brief mentions of injuries/bruises (she’s a cheerleader like shit happens), petnames (she calls you baby; you call her Angel), I think that’s it.

Everybody knows that Chrissy Cunningham is head over heels for you.

And by everybody, I do mean quite literally everybody in Hawkins.

She was really drawn to you because of how sweet and compassionate you were, so it didn’t take long to start dating.

During high school, you had extra classes as prerequisites for your future schooling. Chrissy didn’t mind, and suggested that you study in the gym while she had cheer practice after school.

As soon as you started hanging out during said practice, she IMMEDIATELY had to introduce you to everybody.

“This is my boyfriend! He’s studying to go into nursing next year.”

Unlike Jason and Billy, the team was really interested and thought your career path was cool. They pretty much adopted you onto the squad instantly.

Chrissy’s got a pretty average tolerance when it comes to pain, but she DEFINITELY will let you baby her as a joke.

The first time it happened was during practice in her junior year. Everybody was in the gym working on the pyramid for the upcoming game, and Chrissy was higher up in the chain. Everybody made sure to lay out the mats, but it only helped a bit when she stumbled after reaching the ground.

You were nose deep in a textbook and didn’t notice what had happened until you found her limping over to get a drink. Everybody had decided to take a break, leaving you to check up on her.

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Baby, it’s fine. I just didn’t make the landing.”

She laughed when you moved to play a medical version of 20 Questions, asking her to extend her leg and wiggle her foot. The strawberry blonde did get concerned when your expression grew more serious and you shook your head.

“Nope, this isn’t good, Angel. I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“What? You can’t be serious — I just rolled it! I’ll be fine by tomorrow!”

You wiped a fake tear from your eyes. “I don’t think you’re gonna make it, Chrissy, I’m so sorry.”

She lightly punched your shoulder and laughed along. When that was over, she gave you a quick kiss and then held the cold water bottle to her ankle for a bit. When it was time to leave, you scooped her up onto your back to carry her to the car.

Since then, you insist on being dramatic because it makes her laugh. Deep down, she just thinks it’s nice to know that somebody cares, and that you’ll do anything to take care of her.

Loves it when you kiss any bruises that she may get. It’s just so gentle and loving and sends her into orbit.

If she had just a tiny bit less self control, she would’ve paid for a billboard or something to announce when you got accepted to your dream school. She was as excited as you were.

During her senior year, you asked her to move in with you. It’s a lot better for a multitude of reasons but she’s just excited to come home to you after a long day. Normally, you’re in the living room working on things, and will unpack her cheer stuff after she walks in.

She absolutely loves hearing about what you’re studying in the moment. Your eyes light up and you get so passionate (even if it’s something boring). It reminds her of why she fell for you in the first place.

After school, your first job is just at the local hospital, but she doesn’t care — it might as well be the most prestigious place in the whole world. She’s your #1 cheerleader — no pun intended.

She also insists on keeping everything regarding your accomplishments. You’re mentioned in the local paper? It’s going into the memory box. Somebody left you a nice note? Into the box. Got your badge updated? The old one is being put into the box.

Chrissy Cunningham cannot, for the life of her, keep her hands off of you when you’re in scrubs. That’s all.

The watch you wear is from her. Specially engraved with both of your initials on the underside. Any time you have to check somebody’s heart rate, the watch makes you think of her.

She also 100% knows how to comfort you if you’re exhausted or have had a bad day, and will do anything in her power to make you feel better.

Chrissy Cunningham couldn’t be more proud of you 💕

More male/GN reader content on my blog. Reblogs over likes — it helps other people find my stuff, as well as motivates me to make more stuff. Stranger Things requests are still open!

#x male reader #stranger things x male reader #Chrissy Cunningham x reader #Chrissy Cunningham x male reader

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teaberrii · 3 years ago

Text

The Harbinger House (Light ver.)

Your eccentric aunt, Tsaritsa, opens a new resort and invites you for the grand opening and a lengthy stay. There, you meet three young managers who are at your every beck and call.

Scaramouche/Reader

Childe/Reader

Dottore/Reader

Pantalone/Reader

This is insane. Seeing pictures online is one thing, but being here in person is an overwhelming experience. You're led to a luxurious room prepared by your aunt as soon as you arrive. You're about to leave when you hear a knock at the door. Once you open it, you see your aunt dressed in her usual elegant white dress that flows to her ankles. "It's great to see you, dear!" She hugs you tightly.

You see three young men wearing the same black and white uniform behind her. You quickly hug your aunt and say, "It's great to see you too."

"May we come in?"

You smile. "Do you even have to ask?"

Each man looks and smiles at you as they walk in, and you stiffen. Why are they all equally attractive? As she steps inside, she says, "Now, I know you'll figure this out eventually. But"—she gestures you to follow her to a large window that oversees the entire resort—"I thought I'd spare you that pain." She turns towards you and extends her arms. "The entire resort is separated into three main sections. Each of them is run by their own manager."

As she gestures to the three men, they simultaneously put a hand over their chest and bow at you. "Welcome to the Harbinger House, miss."

"Don't hesitate to let them know what you need," your aunt says. "They'll be pleased to help." Then, she walks towards the door with the managers following behind her. "Well, I'll let you get settled in. Don't forget about the guest dinner tonight." She winks at you. "Put on your best dress for the night!"

And then they are gone, leaving you stunned. This is going to be one heck of a vacation.

Meeting Scaramouche

Meeting Childe

Meeting Dottore

Baking with Scaramouche

Berry Picking with Childe

Billiards with Dottore

The VIP

Water Fights with Childe

Waterfall Hiking with Scaramouche

Watching the Fireworks with Dottore

Beach Volleyball and Underwater Kisses

Sick Day with Childe

A/N: This will be a collection of short moments between you and the three known Harbingers. There won't be a central plot, but there will be a timeline, and some will be connected. There will be some NSFW content, but most will be in the dark version, with a different premise.

This is cross-posted on AO3, but I’ll be posting the chapter updates in full on Tumblr since it’s pretty short.

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thisismysecondrodeo · 2 years ago

Note

you wrote a second part to the getting ready blurb. it has dominant ted. and aftercare ted. LIVES WERE CHANGED?????

no joke i do think this man has so many layers. and that those type of moments could really help him with his anxiety, to a degree. he has to really focus on the moment and on who's with him. he can't feel like too much if he's feeling needed.

on this topic, maybe you could give it a try at that dynamic outside of the bedroom? like small day to day decisions that the reader waits for him to make for them, and checking in before making plans, even if he's not involved...working up to him realizing he can have more of that if he wants. fully taking care of someone? (if this sounds weird im sorry and you absolutely don't have to)

AN: LMAO so glad dom!Ted was life-changing!! This request reminds me so much of the dom version of @exuberantocean 's fic Savor which I highly highly recommend and took some inspiration from. I definitely had to do some research on D/S dynamics for this so if it's not quite what you’re into or not what you were picturing I apologize, but I hope you still enjoy! I decided to continue the Getting Ready - Getting Busy universe, let’s call this one Getting Off haha

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Established Relationship, Date Night, Dom!Ted, sub!Reader, dom-sub dynamics and conversation, kink color system, oral sex (male receiving)

Continuation of "Getting Ready" read part 1 & part 2 on tumblr or ao3

Fic masterlist

Ted deferred to other people… a lot. It was something you noticed as soon as you started dating and you were suspicious at first that he was just trying to butter you up, until you hung out with him and his friends and he was much the same: always conscientious, always putting others' needs before his own, never wanting to disappoint.

You, on the other hand, were not much for deferring to other people. For years you’d been called opinionated at best, bossy and demanding at worst. You were fiercely independent but you had gotten a little tired of having to be, of having to do everything yourself. Ted didn’t seem bothered by your driving force, but the more comfortable you got with each other, the more you realized Ted’s seeming submissivness was more tied up in his wanting to please others, not necessarily a fact of his nature. It was easy to explore this in a sexual context, easy to encourage him to tell you exactly what he wanted, to encourage him to take, and to think about himself. But you can tell his dominance wasn’t extending into the rest of his life. His people-pleasing tendencies were weighing him down and stressing him out. He had a panic attack after work one night and you decided it was time for you to start planting some seeds. You caught his attention over breakfast the next morning.

“Hey, honey,” you tried to keep your voice light and casual.

“Mmh,” Ted responded, taking a sip of coffee, immediately on alert.

“You know how I like it sometimes when you're more…dominant? In the bedroom?” Your sentences went up at the end as you tried to plan where the conversation was going even as you were saying it.

Ted smirked, sitting his coffee down and pulling you towards him so you stood between his legs where he sat at the kitchen table. You draped your arms over his shoulder and smiled down at him as he tightened his grip on your hips just so.

“Oh is that the mood we’re in this mornin’,” Ted teased, “I do know. Why?”

“Well, I was just curious…I like when we do that because I get to…let go. I’m only thinking about feeling good, and making you feel good and following instructions. And I spend so much of the rest of my time making decisions and being responsible that it's a nice reprieve. And I guess I was just wondering what it feels like for you? Is it… is it hard for you to be in that headspace?”

Ted tilted his head, letting his hands slip under your pajama top just a few inches so he could stroke his thumbs along the soft skin above your waistband as he thought about your question. “That’s a good question. I think…well, I’m sure you know I worry a lot about other people and making sure they’re happy and it's nice to have a time where the world narrows to just you and me, and making us both happy is well within my control. When we’re… in that space, I don’t worry about being too much because in those moments you really need me.”

“I always need you, baby. And I rely on you more than you know,” you said before kissing him, smiling as he hummed against your lips. “I think…it could be something we could explore more outside of the bedroom? If you’re interested? I think it could help you feel more in control.”

“Like, when I picked that dress out for you?”

“Yeah, exactly. You’d be making more decisions for us. For me.”

“This is…you’re not just doing this for me right? Because I’d love to try it and I love taking care of you in every way that I can, but not if I knew you were just letting me…I don’t know, take advantage. Just to quiet this silly lil noggin’ of mine.”

“I think of it more like making sure you know just how much I need you. That okay? Just to try it?”

Ted took a deep breath and you tried to imbue every emotion in your gaze so he’d know how serious you were, how much you wanted it.

“Okay, but you’ll have to…show me.”

You nodded, knowing there’d need to be more conversations, more boundaries. For now, you just climbed into his lap and kissed him hard, before he lifted you up onto the kitchen table, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and underwear and sliding them down as he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Ted called, slinging his backpack off into its place next to the closet and then toeing off his sneakers. You got up from the couch and greeted him with a kiss, unzipping his jacket and helping him out of it. “The gang’s meeting down at the Crown & Anchor for dinner, I figured I’d ask if you want to go.”

You looked Ted over, at the tiredness in his face, the tense line of his shoulder, “Is that what you want to do?”

“Honestly, I’m a little tired, but if you want to—”

“Great, we’ll stay home!” You kissed him on the cheek and took his hand, leading him back towards the living room and letting him flop down, pleased when you heard the sigh he released, stroking a hand down his thigh as he sank into the cushions. He smiled, his eyes closed, as he felt your hand movements become more deliberate.

“You startin’ somethin’?”

You didn’t respond right away, kissing him instead, satisfied when he easily slid his tongue between your lips, knotted his hand firmly in your hair to hold you steady.

The two of you separated for a breather, “Well what else would we do with all this extra time?”

You and Ted had discussed hard and soft limits, the nuance of directness and domination vs demands. The two of you agreed to start slowly and you started bringing things up to him more often. You both knew you could go beyond him picking out your outfits and nail colors or telling you if you could go out with friends, but the little surge of arousal you got when he did those things, the way you kissed him after like a reward for a job, well done encouraged your patience. And Ted had seemed calmer, freer than he seemed since the two of you had started dating. The panic attacks weren’t gone, but when he came home he was centered and present and focused on you.

Each decision you placed in Ted’s hands was a little piece of control you could easily give over to him. But you wanted to kick it up a notch now that the two of you had been in a number of scenes and situations you could point to to say, I really liked that. You wanted to encourage Ted not just to decide for you but to ask for things from you. You texted Ted to ask if he’d be okay with that, experimenting with asking for more.

Ted: What did you have in mind, honey?

You: Can I surprise you? And you give me a color if you’re not into it?

Ted: Sure, I think I’d like that :)

You gave Ted some time to settle in after work, but couldn’t help but sidle up to him, drag your hands along his back and sides, play with the hem of his shirt.

“Can we order in?”

“Well, with Henry visitin’ I figured we’d keep eatin’ out to a minimum, but—”

“Oh, so you want me to cook for you,” you teased lightly, clinging to Ted as he poked through the refrigerator for something that he could make.

“No, it was my decision, I can—”

“You want me to cook for you.” You repeated in a sultry tone, stepping between Ted and the refrigerator. He looked at you confused, but let the refrigerator close behind you as you slipped your fingers into the belt loops of his khakis.

‘I mean, if you don’t mind, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to—”

“You want me,” you said slowly, sinking to your knees in front of him, and looking up into his wide eyes, watched his pupils blow with lust, “to cook for you.”

“Are we still talkin’ about cookin’ or…?”

You ran your hands up Ted’s thighs, watching the gears in his head turn as he tried to understand what was happening. You thumbed open the button of his pants and slowly tugged down the zipper. Despite his confusion, he was clearly interested in what was happening. You wouldn’t actually make a move until he understood.

“You want me to cook for you.” You stated simply, nodding after so he’d take the cue to repeat after you.

“I want you to cook for me?”

You smiled broadly, and nodded with enthusiasm before hooking your fingers into the waist of his boxer briefs. “This okay?”

Ted nodded, “Sure. Yes, but why…?” You released him from his underwear, kissing up his thighs before pulling away slightly.

“Color?”

You could see the pieces click as Ted’s gaze turned resolute, “Green. Very, very green.”

“Then say it again,” you said softly, “please, sir.” Ted groaned, a low, guttural sound that shot straight to your core, quickly dampening the fabric between your legs.

“I want you to cook for me,” Ted stated, looking down at you as you whimpered and wrapped your lips around him, running your tongue up the underside of him and hollowing your cheeks. “Fuck me, God, you’re so good, darlin’. You’re going to suck my dick and then cook dinner like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You moaned around him, and tugged his thighs toward you, encouraging him to thrust forward and it didn’t take long before he was coming down your throat. Before you knew it you were on the kitchen table, back arching. Ted’s face was between your thighs, his fingers and tongue working you up expertly until he pushed you over the edge.

Ted ordered in anyway, which you had a feeling would happen after the two of you curled into each other, sated and content on the couch.

“We should…talk about earlier,” you said, setting your plate of curry aside and turning to face Ted.

“Yeah, it seemed you were very into cookin’ dinner all of a sudden,” Ted chuckled, reaching for your hand and stroking his thumb across your knuckles, but you could see the anxiety in his brow.

“You know, we talked about amping things up before, how I like submitting to you and what it does for you to be able to have control... That was kind of the idea. If that was okay for you?”

Ted looked at you thoughtfully, “The problem wasn’t that it wasn’t okay, that it didn’t feel good…Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard. But I guess I’m just worried, personally, that I get off on…bossing you around? I don’t know, sweet pea, I mean that was very fun, don’t get me wrong but…”

You stood up and started pacing, “I know how it sounds, but I LIKE needing you. I like relying on you. And you said you like being needed, like being able to focus in. It doesn’t have to be an all the time thing, there are certain, you know phrases we can use or even just certain days or times, and there doesn’t have to be, like, punishment, though that could also be fun, but—”

Ted interrupted quickly, noticing that you were spiraling. “Hey, hey, that’s all I wanted to hear. I just want to know that we’re both getting something out of this.”

“Oh it was more than just something,” you smirked, finally standing still again.

Ted smiled, reaching for you again, “Alright, so it sounds like we can do a little bit more of that. Why don’t you come sit down and we’ll talk about it?”

You grinned, winking at Ted as you followed his instructions. “Yes sir.”

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso x reader #smut #ted lasso smut

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edjectedly · 3 years ago

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Fanon vs Canon

Alright y’all buckle in cause this is gonna be a long one. Here lately I have seen a lot of discourse over fanon and canon and frankly I am growing tired of it. I by no means think that this post will be the end all be all of this discourse, but I am hoping to at least shed some light on the importance of fanon and its impact on content, especially in regards to comics and accessibility.

TL;DR: Everything boils down to if you don’t like something there is absolutely no need to comment on it or interact with it :) Comics are hard to get access to and canon can be hard to experience. Fanon is a crucial part of fan culture.

Recently, I have started devoting a lot of my time towards the Batman fandom, as superheroes have been something I’ve loved for a while and something just clicked when I first found Young Justice back when it was still on Netflix. I watched all the episodes and then realized afterwards I wasn’t content with the amount of content I got regarding my boy Dick Grayson, so I switched over to AO3 to find anything more. There I was introduced to the extended BatFam and that led me to reading exclusively Batman fanfiction so I could see more of these four brothers. A few years passed, my hyperfixation changed to Sanders Sides, and now I’m back neck deep in Batman. I don’t know what triggered it this time but I’m super happy to be here. Let me get to the point; I got into the Batman fandom through Young Justice fanfiction.

So why does that matter? Well, I tried to find a way to read all the comics so I’d have an understanding of canon so I could make my own content because I had just gotten out of a fandom where I was creating content regularly and I wanted to continue. I couldn’t find a way to read them, so I stuck to just reading fanfiction and finding stuff on Tumblr and slowly I stopped wanting to create things. I was too nervous that I wouldn’t abide enough by canon that I’d get roasted for what I created. The second thing I posted I even clarified that I hadn’t read the comics and that my knowledge came from fanfiction and so this was based on my canon and I still had people in my inbox and on the post telling me that I wasn’t being canon compliant. Which I wasn’t trying to be. This put the brakes on me creating again for a bit, but this time I got angry and started thinking of new ways to make things.

Still, I was seeing things about canon vs. fanon and how fanon was bad for changing characters. I decided not to care and now we have the Alternative Introduction AU I so love creating for. I thought about Sanders Sides and how that had been a big issue in the fandom, people characterizing characters differently from canon. I contributed this largely to a lack of content, the issue with Batman is that there is so much content.

Comics are weird. There are many timelines, versions, writers, etc. Canon changes writer to writer, and frankly I think that allows for a lot of different interpretations. Others, however, try to pick a set way characters should be. One of the biggest, or at least most memorable to me, was Tim Drake and his coffee addiction. Fans latched onto it, whether they saw it as funny or relatable or whatever, it became very popular. It made sense and people enjoyed it. This is great! People are engaging with the media, making it enjoyable for them, and expanding on characters in a fun way while forming connections with other members of the fandom. Then, I started to see people angry about this little thing people saw Tim Drake doing. This anger only grew when it happened to make its way into a comic. I think it was like one panel? No matter, it wasn’t big but I know people who got mad. They got mad that fanon became canon cause they didn’t agree with it.

Here’s the thing we have to think about; media convergence. Henry Jenkins researches Fan Studies and Culture and has an entire book about it. I am not gonna cite directly because that is a lot of work and honestly I am tired. But, the big idea is that fandom is ever evolving and changing across multiple platforms. No one can actually have all the knowledge in a fandom, it’s impossible. This idea of media convergence shows a shift in how we view culture in general. Media has become more participatory than in the past where most interaction came from spectation. People are seeking to make connections across different forms of media which leads to the adoption of fanon.

Where am I going with this? I have laid out a lot of pieces but some have lacked connection, so here we go. Comics can largely be inaccessible, leading to people seeking out the information in other ways as Henry Jenkins discusses, this leads to an adoption of different headcanons creating fanon. Now, how does this tie into my personal experience in creating content? I am not alone in the fear of retribution for not following the strict guides of canon. I was able to move on from it, mainly because I am full of spite and anger and ready to fight at the drop of a hat, but not everyone is comfortable doing that. How many people are we keeping from fandoms in general because of adherence to canon? I am wary of using the word gatekeeping because there is a trend of people moving towards dismissal of anything using the word, but this is what it is.

Gatekeeping is occurring in a different way than normal. In this instance the strict adherence to canon is pushing out those who cannot find a way to get ahold of comics or don’t have the time to parse through everything. I was one of those people, hell I still have issues getting a hold of comics and even though I know how to pirate them now, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I have the time to go back and read everything. In addition to having multiple iterations of one character, comics also present the unique challenge of having multiple writers per character per timeline. I know in one of the only comics I’ve read that was released recently, Dick is twelve when Bruce gets him and that his parents are shot instead of falling. Batman kidnaps him and purposefully antagonizes the Justice League, which he isn’t a part of. From fanfiction, I know that Dick was eight in a lot of iterations, that his parents fell because the lines to their trapeze had acid on them, that Batman is a founding member of the Justice League and among other differences.

What does this mean? Canon isn’t clear cut and can be confusing. Strict adherence to this idea of what is right and wrong leads to the lack of participation in fandom spaces, and can even oust people who would otherwise enjoy this space. Fanon is fun, hurts no one, and provides spaces for creative liberty. If you don’t like how people are characterizing your favorite character, simply don’t read it. (This is different from people attacking characters, which if anyone wants that essay I’ll write it but that isn’t what I’m here for today.) Why are you so annoyed at people enjoying headcanons? If it has become fanon, that means it is widely liked, why do you feel like you have the authority to dictate how characters are? Besides, this is fandom/fanfiction/fan interactions, they aren’t canon. This is fans having fun and should be regarded that way. Shitting on other people's interpretations can and has stopped people from contributing their own fan content and limits the amount of growth a fandom can experience. Basically, it boils down to if you don’t like something there is absolutely no need to comment on it or interact with it :)

I could go on with the idea of fan service, but once again I am tired. If anyone wants that essay let me know lmao and I’ll work on it.

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years ago

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MULDER, The Spooky INTP

Mulder is not an INFP. He is also not an INFJ. Shocker!

And just HOW did I reach this conclusion (especially since the MBTI system has been thoroughly discredited??) Fear not! All the answers are just below~ (and the typing system disclaimer is tucked away at the bottom of the post.)

So, enough talk!! It’s time for a nerdy analysis!

(Note: Credit to whoever edited these pics-- I don’t have the Tumblr handles anymore-- let me know if it’s yours and I’ll @ you.)

MULDER

An INTP brain is divided into four “sections”; but for today’s analysis it’s easier to stick to the main “functions” of Mulder’s Mind:

The Hero Function: This function is the most effortless of the stack of eight, the “superhero” if you will. For Mulder that is his Thinking Introverted (Ti for short) Function. It serves as the most distilled version of Logos-- “if this happened, then that will happen”-- it sorts through all the facts presented and finds the most verifiable Truth. It IS the truth; and serves to cut open an infected wound in order to clean out the rot and allow healing to take place. INTPs know the importance that pain provides, even if it does deep but temporary damage.

At their most immature, INTPs can be insanely prideful about what they know, and their pride is often misconstrued as arrogance; but when tempered with wisdom, they become humble bearers of the Truth, wishing to pass on their knowledge to improve the ethics of others. Credentials are worthless to INTPs. They realize truth or “right” is not tied to a degree; and know that the most educated individuals in one subject are completely idiotic in another. (Mulder’s general disdain for those individuals who “know everything” comes to mind.)

The Parent Function: This function serves as the pessimistic but responsible parent for an INTP. Extroverted Intuition (Ne for short) sees all possible outcomes for everyone’s collective future to a near “spooky” prescient degree. Because they can “predict” the futures of those around them based on their past patterns of behavior, INTPs are easily bored. If they have no one to keep them on their toes, they become addicted to vices that attempt to distract them from their boredom (ex. the Chinga episode.) They are able to see patterns that most others miss; and when INTPs combine this with their Ti Hero they rarely ever fail at puzzling together clues and figuring out the great mysteries of life.

If underdeveloped, Ne Parent sounds like the ravings of a crazy chicken yelling that the sky is falling; if matured, they are able to temper their message for maximum effectiveness, reaching critically more people and laying the groundwork for others to carry out the plans they create. They are more of a brainstormer, uncovering new information and piecing together plans before handing them off to the footmen eager to rush off and get the job accomplished.

The Child Function: This function is the most idealistic of all the functions, and causes the deepest wounds if “bullied.” Sensing Introverted (Si for short) is past focused-- habit, security, experience-- and uses those memories to build the duties of the present and future. The miraculous sense of steadfastness, discipline, conviction, and endurance gives INTPs a truly staggering focus that is unparalleled.

In Mulder’s case, his strong memories of his sister, his strong loyalty, and his unrealistic but nostalgic childhood memories fueled his almost 30-year quest; and extended into adulthood with the lengths he would go to save Scully (and Skinner, etc.) time and again. “Child abuse” for an INTP is when others accuse them of being disloyal or prove that they are disloyal. INTPs will pour out their life’s blood if the person they loved needed just a drop. They are deeply wounded if their loyalty is exploited or disregarded (if that isn’t Mulder I don’t know what is….) They are also the MOST sensitive to bad experiences, causing almost irreparable wounds that cut deep and bleed internally.

Si Child is also the reason why INTPs are the most introverted out of all the types: they choose to avoid ALL experiences in the fear that even ONE might be painful. It’s doubly important for their loved ones to push them outside their comfort zones and tap into their adventurous “will try it at least once” side. This helps them to step outside of their warped “couch potato” existence.

The Inferior Function: This function serves as a point of aspiration and vanity. Feeling Extroverted (Fe for short) makes INTPs afraid of being a burden, even going so far as to take the blame of others’ actions on their own shoulders. They fear they are a bad person, which leads them to being easily guilted.

This can be a good thing, however, since it can easily shake them from their lazy habits or self-destructive tendencies by shaming them out of it (ex. dream Scully’s tongue-lashing in Amor Fati). More mature INTPs forgo that fear of rejection to care for their friends by warning them of the bad futures (Ti Hero, Ne Parent) that will result from their poor decisions (and it gives them a great opening for an “I told you so” one liner.) This requires courage because most friends would rather walk away than be proven wrong.

The Nemesis Function: This function is an INTP’s greatest source of worry. Thinking Extroverted (Te for short) makes them doubt the intelligence of those around them--

thereby amplifying those doubts in and of themselves. If they are mature, this spurs INTPs to intensely research all types of information, which in turn gives them a massive amount of knowledge on varying topics, depths, and scales which they rarely (if at all) forget.

The Critic Function: This function serves as an INTP’s most cynical aspect or greatest possibility for wisdom. Introverted Intuition (Ni for short) is all about willpower and desire; but for INTPs, choice scares them. They see the constant disaster of the bad decisions of those around them, which makes them hesitant to make ANY decision because of their pessimistic predictions of their own outcomes (Ne Parent.) They are afraid to want. Because of that, INTPs have “failure to launch” syndrome: stuck in inaction or at least not progressing despite feeling unfulfilled--

but then they get hypocritically upset with others for wanting something greater and striving for it. The best examples of these points are Mulder’s blinders on any goal other than finding his sister, even to the near destruction of his personal life and mental health. His fear to step outside his quest and get his true aspirations destroyed-- “getting out of the car” with Scully like she wants and settling down like he mentioned in Home-- holds him back from changing “the status quo” and almost makes Scully walk away from him to greener pastures (Ed Jerse and Daniel Waterston.) Maturity helps the Critic to put pressure on themselves, painstakingly prying them out of their unfulfilling freeze states and into more active roles in their own destiny.

The Trickster Function: This function is an INTP’s weakest function. Sensing Extroverted (Se for short) makes them unaware of what is happening around them, or even how they are perceived by others. Reality is arbitrary; and because of that, INTPs spend more time in their head than out of it. This is a strength in that they can turn their vision into a tangible reality. The problem is that they have NO idea how they come across.

During conversation, they look everywhere else than at the speaker; but they absorb everything you are saying and doing given their insane attentiveness and focus. Even more so if they are loyal to you: using their Si Child, they can quote something you said offhand five years ago back to you now to prove that they care and are always listening. (They are deeply hurt if their actions are misconstrued as uncaring.) On top of that, initiating any relationships are ALWAYS a struggle; but it’s a near horrific experience for male INTPs to initiate a romantic relationship. Their Se Trickster handicaps them to social cues (asking a girl out minutes after she has a breakup), and this leads them to getting brutally rejected. They are also afraid to want (Ni Critic), which stops even advances that are guaranteed to succeed. Most of the time they end up being pursued, usually by more aggressive or go-getter females (Phoebe, Diana, and Rain King’s Sheila comes to mind.)

The Demon Function: And lastly, this function is INTP’s strongest function-- the propensity for destruction or salvation. Feeling Introverted (Fi for short) is about personal values and worth. At its worst, it leads INTPs to dismiss their own feelings and needs, and this leads them to become doormats to be exploited, guilted, and dismissed.

When they reach their limit, INTPs become depraved and debaucherous. If no one will recognize their sacrifices and humiliations they put up with in the name of loyalty and love, then they will make themselves feel good. They implode internally, nursing their wounded feeling in debaucherous pastimes that slowly eat away at them, leading to their willful self-destruction. The only way to save them from this cycle is for someone to save them from themselves by guilting them back into good behavior (the previous example of dream Scully’s speech in Amor Fati clicks right into place here as well.) When they are mature, an INTP will realize their own value and refuse to be treated horribly, secure in their self-worth and contributions to the world and those around them.

Why Mulder is Neither an INFJ Nor an INFP

Why Mulder Is Not an INFJ

The biggest difference between an INFJ and an INTP is their respective N functions: Ni for INFJ and Ne for INTP. While both types are abstract and revolve on the same Ti/Fe Axis, they are completely different in their perspectives on and their focuses in life.

Ni’s focus is on one’s OWN future, whereas Ne focuses on society’s as a COLLECTIVE whole.

-For an INFJ, Ni is his Hero function: strongest and most effortless of all functions, it serves to hyper-focus INFJs on their OWN personal goals, map out a plan, and trailblaze it at the speed of light. For the INFJ that goal is implementing a better ethical system for humanity: their Fe parent strives for fairness and love in the hearts of all. The negative to that is forceful or authoritarian implementation of their own personal ethics: “in MY house we follow THESE RULES.” Mulder is not ethically focused: he rarely judges others on their morals, doesn’t even blink about the morally decayed lives of those he investigates, and even justifies some of the victims or perpetrators’ dubious actions. He certainly does not impose his own beliefs or values onto those around him, and even sneers at those who do (such as organized religions, for example... or Gogolak in Arcadia link here for analysis~.)

-For an INTP, Ni is his Critic function: in its immature state, it can be extremely cynical with an INTPs own personal hopes or plans for their future. They fear to mark out their own path, observing the disastrous consequences of the bad choices of those around them and concluding that it’s better to not have personal aspirations rather than catastrophic failures. Because of that, INTPs have “failure to launch” syndrome: stuck in inaction or stuck in one locked position despite its failures at fulfillment.

-For an INFJ, Ne slots itself into the Nemesis/Worry Function: they worry about others’ intentions, constantly misconstruing them in a faulty attempt at shining a light on their motives or intent. Their fear of others’ inhibiting their personal freedom causes unnecessary paranoia, which leads INFJs to permanently cut people out of their lives (Si Demon) at the slightest hint of a slight or threat, even when there is no evidence to suggest such a drastic step.

This, I believe, is the nail in the coffin about Mulder’s type: Mulder trusts, and trusts, and trusts until he is led straight into betrayal; and even then he excuses the other person’s actions until there is no justification; and STILL he believes they can become better people and hear them out every time they ask for mercy (examples: the revolving door of ex-girlfriends, Deep Throat, Krycek, Skinner, even CSM and his Consortium fellows.) He constantly beats himself up for misplacing his belief again and again despite all the warnings to the contrary, a classic example of the manipulation INTPs are so easily susceptible to.

-For an INTP, Ne slots into their Parent Function: it responsibly sees danger to society at a macro whole and does its best to warn of the impending danger. INTPs have no personal agenda to achieve other than to warn others and correct the ignorance of the willfully blind around them-- and their warnings are ALWAYS right.

This is Mulder to a T-- he is frustrated when bogged down with carrying out a system of change, but even more frustrated with a bloated, blinded bureaucracy while aliens are on everyone’s doorstep. His warnings are mostly unheeded; but he digs his heels in and continues to uncover the Conspiracy while sacrificing his “life” in the process. It’s not until The Unnatural that Dales teaches him to “look to the mystery of the heart”-- which helps him to, for the first time, focus on something HE loves to do, which is the antithesis to how higher levels of Fe functions.

I would be remiss to address one of the most important differences between INFJs and INTPs: their fashion sense. Se Inferior/Aspirational/Vanity (in good and bad ways) makes INFJs very aware of how they appear to others. This gives them the impressive ability to polish their self-expression through peak performance and impeccable fashion. Se Trickster (however) makes INTPs tragically unaware of what is happening around them and how they are coming across to others-- making them incredibly clumsy and horrible at fashion and always forgetful of small things like car keys.

Mulder’s weird hairstyles (for all but S4-5) and his weird obsessions and his weird behaviors since his Star Trek-obsessed childhood and his clutzy accidents (in Small Potatoes/Monday/etc.) and the “constant, touchstone” behavior of always losing his gun are just some small examples that come to mind. (On a bright side: all those fanfics with Mulder as a professor are canonically accurate as INTPs are the stereotype for the “absent-minded professor” trope.)

Why Mulder Is Not an INFP

INTPs and INFPs look very similar but are actually even more dissimilar than INFJs, since INTPs run on the Ti/Fe Axis and INFPs run on the Fi/Te Axis. These Axis (whatever the plural is) are pivotal to the major differences in their personal philosophies, moralities, and ethics.

-For an INFP, Fi slots into his Hero Function: they are driven by PERSONAL beliefs, specifically personal morals and principles rather than Fe/Ti social ethics. INFPs’ core values define them as a person and are stronger than any data or facts or the Truth itself. This type believes that believing-- or “manifesting”-- is enough, which is pretty self-explanatory to why Mulder is not an INFP. His core belief is “I WANT to believe”, letting one infer that he naturally disbelieves; and this is proved by his quote in the Pilot: “I’m not crazy, Scully. I have the same doubts...”, and his admonishment in Beyond the Sea: “Dana, open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they are the truth.”

-For an INTP, Fi slots into his Demon Function: INTPs are often overlooked and overworked, driven by taskmasters who find them useful and easily guilted into carrying the burdens of others’ scutwork. When they have had enough-- which can take years because they are naturally patient-- and realize the hoops they’ve jumped through to make others feel good are for naught, they become depraved and sink into debauchery in a harmful self-soothing attempt to make themselves feel good, leading straight into willful self-destruction. Perfect examples of these times in Mulder’s life are: early S2 (with further degrading during Scully’s abduction and coma), One Son (when he gave up briefly), and even Three Words (feeling like life had left him behind and willing to get himself killed in order to find meaning.)

-For an INFP, Te slots into their Inferior/Aspirational/Vanity Function: they are afraid of what others think of their reputation. INFPs NEED others to believe good things about them, even if those beliefs are not grounded in any form of reality. This can be a powerful force for good, as it inspires them to read hard-hitting literature to constantly develop their own personal moral code; and at their best they cannot be out-academic-ed and become insanely popular by doing so. However, their focus is not on knowledge so much as the boost their reputation gets with the acquisition of knowledge. Mulder is not focused on his reputation at all, even recklessly tossing it aside in pursuit of the truth and stirring up hornets’ nests that would serve better advantage to keep undisturbed. If he’s known as “Spooky” or the crazy man howling at the moon, it will not shake his surety of self (that is what GUILT does, not reputation hits.)

-For an INTP, Te fits into his Worry/Nemesis Function: INTPs are worried that others are factually incorrect, because that will affect everyone else’s futures (Ne Parent) to disastrous degrees. If an INTP is mature, he will take new information with a grain of salt and prove his own credibility by verifying it. Once proven correct, he will then defend these ideas to his grave, and mentor others out of their faulty logic to become better at reasoning and therefore more intelligent. Mulder typifies this to its fullest from the beginning and spends the rest of the series wading through the weeds of Scully’s acquired facts to find the most accurate conclusion--which is why he needs her Te data and she needs his Ti hero. A truly symbiotic relationship (+ another analysis in future~.)

Thank you for reading this long review! If you have other types that you think or thought Mulder is or was, I love feedback and would be intrigued to add your thoughts in a future update.

Disclaimers: This is a self-assessed analysis. This information is not based on the abominable MBTI system (which has been butchered from its original Jungian typology since ~WWII); instead, it’s a combination between the works of Jung’s type psychology, Dr. Linda Berens’ Communication styles, Dr. Dario Nardi’s EEG brain scan compiled research, and others’ data and practices as compiled and simplified by CSJoseph. This system is based only on the Nature side of Nature/Nurture; and each “type” is not a “box” to fit everyone into-- simply a tool to help understand the basics of the human mind that science has only begun to fathom in its limited scope.

#txf #x-files #the x-files #MULDER The Spooky INTP #Types #analysis #meta #mine #INTP #INFJ #INFP #MBTI #but not

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