#was that part of their consideration at all?

[techmomma]

A little thing, but it endeared me nonetheless:

This morning I was taking my usual route to work. Part of the way is a two-way street through residential areas, one of those "big enough for a second lane but no actual second lane designations, so that space is often taken up by parked cars" sort of weird american roads. I digress.

Today a firetruck and ambulance came down the road going opposite our direction. There was plenty of room for both on their side. But I watched the line of cars ahead of me pull over to the side of the road, just to make sure the vehicles had enough room. Then about 30 seconds later, they did the same for the considerably smaller ambulance. I need to emphasize that there was plenty of room going both directions, this gesture was entirely unneeded.

But about 15 cars (plus whatever number behind me) all pulled over twice, just to make super super sure both emergency vehicles could get by unimpeded.

It warmed my little heart.

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special

@lotsofstuffsblog hope you all enjoy!! :> Prologue -> Part 1 Yan!batfam x Neglected!reader

A cold, harsh wind flew through the streets of Gotham, just outside the police station, camera flashes going off and helping to illuminate not only the police officers, but the young child that they had surrounded.

A small child stood, one with a small stature, and a face that told anyone passing by that they had seen far too much for their age. And, of course, that child was you. Y/N L/N.

As you stood there, shivering despite the heaters best efforts, you stared hard at the ground as if to try and separate yourself from the people flocking around you. After your mom died, people hadn't really given consideration to you. To them you were just another child that had lost their mother to the cruel streets, something far to common to be normal.

You were originally sent to a child-care center, somewhere you could be kept until further notice. The only problem, well, was that you didn't really have anyone else to take you. Your mom, mama, was the only one who really cared as much, or even at all about you. That was that, and you were going to be sent to an orphanage, just like the other poor kids that lost their parents.

Well, that was the plan atleast.

When your mom died, and you were brought to the police station after having to be dragged walked to the car by two friendly police officers, you had run into someone, Commissioner Gordon. The way he scrutinized your face, as if you had reminded you of someone had been weird. Well, until he made you take a DNA test.

"Hello there Young Master," a soft voice said from behind you.

You turned your head to the side, and saw an elderly man, the perfect example of a butler, smiling at you. But, the longer you looked into his eyes, you could sense the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

You were like so lifeless. He could tell from the way you mindlessly stood there while he talked to the officers, or strode to the car, passing by the news reporters, ignoring the continuous questioning. You ignored it all, eyes blocking out people from questing what could possibly be going through your mind.

When Alfred started the car, and started to drive off, he pondered on how you would affect the future of not only the Wayne family, but the vigilantes of the city. Would they welcome you? Or consider you a anomaly? Perhaps-

Oh.

As Alfred looked into the rear view mirror, he could see small droplets falling down your cheeks, which eventually turned into a steady stream of them. A vulnerability you hadn't been able to show coming forth, a trait he recognized from another young boy he had once raised, many moons ago.

"Young Master?" He whispered to you softly, your sobbing paused as your head snapped up towards him, "...Yes?" His eyes softened as they connected with yours in the mirror, he could see the way you were scared, all the uncertainty that would come with this new home of yours.

"Are you excited to meet your new family?" You paused to think of what to say, before settling on a quiet, "No." After which, you looked away and resumed your sobbing.

In any normal situation, he would've laughed at your honesty, but considering this wasn't normal, he let the two of you sit in comfortable silence. Your honesty, the ability to hide your thoughts and emotions already at such a young age.

You really were your fathers child.

You could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself that everything would be alright, it was so hard to believe so as you stood infront of the towering doors of the Wayne manor. As a distraction, you clutched Alfred's hand as hard as a 7 year old possibly could, as he lead you inside the dark and mysterious manor.

Being inside didn't help at all, doing nothing more than making your nerves work overtime, especially when you looked down the dark halls that seemed to lead to nowhere, or the staircase that seemed to stretch for miles upon miles, and for the first time since you were here, or even brought to the police station you thought-

Where's my father?

Instantly you looked around wondering where the man that was displayed as a generous and charitable man was this entire time.

"That's going to be my father?"

"That is your father."

You stared up at Commissioner Gordon for a brief second before returning your gaze to the T.V. , and there he was, in all his glory, Bruce Wayne, the man who gave all he could to the world, after having the world take so much from him at such a young age

Gordon paused for a moment thinking of what to say next, "I know, it's nerve wrecking being thrown into a whole n'other world, yeah? You'll be okay kid, I promise you." He then raised his and ruffled your hair before leaving you to your own devices.

"Master Y/N," Alfred started, "I'm sorry master Bruce couldn't be here for you at the moment, but he had pressing matters he unfortunately couldn't abandon." He stared at you to see your reaction, but as soon as you were going to respond,

"Hey Al," you peaked from behind Alfred and saw a young man, maybe in his 20's walking towards Alfred before pausing after seeing you hiding behind him. He stared at you for a moment before questioning, "who's the kid?" Alfred shifted his attention to Dick, "the new Young Master, Master Bruces child."

Dick's eyebrows went up for a second, before quickly shuffling over to me, "Hey, nice to meet you kiddo!" He ruffled my hair roughly before lowering it and moving his attention back to Alfred, "B needs me to help him with the.." he paused and glanced towards me "stuff. So I'll come back and hang with you in a little, okay kid?" He quickly started to rush down one of the long halls.

"Honestly..." you could hear Alfred mumble before sighing and grabbing your attention, "Let us go and find a place for you to settle down in, alright?" You nodded and followed after him while he led you to what was to be your room.

After walking for what felt like miles, passing walls so big that little you thought would swallow you at any moment, paintings you thought would come to life and drag you into their world with them, you had finally reached your room, one with doors that had door handles you could barely reach. Alfred opened them for you, and pulled you alongside with him.

You looked around, observing the big space, filled with nothing but a bed, T.V. and nightstand. A room that was bigger than your entire apartment, something that made you even more nervous. But not wanting to bother Alfred any further, and be able to wallow alone for the first time in who knows how long without the fear of prying eyes, you looked towards Alfred.

He gave you his full attention as you whispered, "I'm fine, so can you please go?" You both knew that that wasn't true, him from the look in your eyes, and you from the pit you could feel forming in your stomach.

"Understood Young Master. I will be leaving now but, if you need for anything, please just call." He started to head out for the room, hesitating for a moment, with an unsure look in his eyes, but turned his back, leaving you alone in the dark room.

The family was difficult to bond with.

It was after the excuses upon excuses that began to pile up so much, that you always knew word for word what one would say, or the quick glances that were sent your way as someone walked past you, or even the way some ignored you, completely pretending you didn't exist, further cementing the idea that you were nothing more than a shadow to the people that should've considered you family.

Dick, he was a kind man, always willing to lend a helping hand and be there for others. Well, everyone except for you. He was an enthusiastic man, known as the acrobatic, the man that lights up people's days with jokes and charming smiles. He gave you those smiles, the same fake ones he gave to anyone else that wasn't his family. Excuses on how, " I'll hang out with you later kiddo!"

Promises that were never fulfilled. You really did hope that one day they would be, but as a kid, taking all the love you could get out of someone, you believed him and his charming smiles, atleast he smiled at you, right?

Tim, a tech savvy, was in simple terms, a genius. Someone who's mind was never turned off, always at work. Someone who's quiet, and yet always observing, something that unsettled you when you first met, the way he quietly scrutinized you, as if sizing up how important you were, seeing if you were worth his time and the effort.

Clearly, you weren't, as instead of the excuses you were instead met with silence, as if telling you, 'I really couldn't care less about you.' So, you took it as it was, and with little efforts here and there, tried to stick to your lane.

Jason, the bookworm, one that read things that were educational to things that were political to even language guides. He was a man that had a hardened exterior, closed off to people, becoming another person after his death. It wasn't talked about in depth, mainly Alfred wanting to spare the gorier details.

Surprisingly enough, he was alright to you. He acknowledged you, and despite the fact you longed for so much more it was enough to know that someone saw you. He would wave, or nod his head on some days, but all it did was leave you wanting for more, a hug, hell, a high five. But, it was fine, you were used to feeling fine. It was something you found yourself feeling ever since you got here.

Damien, someone you were so so excited to meet. You pushed aside the faces that came to mind when thinking of all the other times you tried bonding with people in the manor, and held hope. You guys were related, by blood, something that may not matter to some, but mattered to you, being able to bond with someone in a way you couldn't with anyone else.

But, when you hovered by him during his first appearance in the manor, the cold look on his face told you just how much he despised you despite only just meeting you.

His eyes narrowed before taking a breath, " You're father's other child?" The way he had said other child made you jump in a way you didn't like, and before you could respond, all you could feel was the harsh shove he sent your way. You yelped as you fell into a table bruising your hip.

"Master Damien, Have respect." Alfred's voice came out calm, but the look he gave him along with the warning in his tone said otherwise. Not taking his words to mind, Damien simply scoffed and looked at you in disdain, "you're nothing more than a whores child, so back off." The sight of his back towards you felt all to familiar.

It was obvious, the looks, the words, the shove. But feeling desperate, wanting something to cling onto, something to love, something to replace mama.

You pushed through.

Barbara, a polite, but distant lady. Also another tech savvy in the family that was introduced to the manor by Dick. She was often helping the family with god knows what on those computers that she and Tim seemed to stick to as a life-line. And before you knew it, you would see her fairly often.

She would say hello, but would abandon you for the first person she saw, or go towards one of the many computers in the manor to once again, do god knows what. But with how fed up you were starting to get, you found myself almost not caring on what was so interesting on the other side of that screen.

Stephanie Brown, a kind and mischievous girl that seemed to lighten up a room from the moment she walked in, though the mood always seemed to dissipate when you walked in she always tried her best to seem friendly. She would crack a joke here and there, but always looked like she didn't know how to talk with you. Sometimes she would just avoid you entirely.

Though, on the days you did run into her, giving her no choice but to talk and smile, you could tell with the amount of experience you had under your belt, that you weren't her object of interest.

Cassandra, quiet and aloof, but always watching and taking in the world and its people around her. When she was brought into this already big family, you were on the way to all hope being lost. But, when you learned of her illiteracy you found yourself wanting to learn with her. You could see yourself learning to read with her, helping her and reading late at night under a blanket fort.

You thought, maybe for once, effort would be enough, though it never was, was it? From the way she passed by you once you had walked up towards her giving you nothing but a hard stare, it was like you could hear your heartbreaking.

Duke, another boy, God how many children was father going to bring into this cold desolate manor before giving you the attention you deserve?- was a nice difference from the other ones that resided here. He didn't have a hidden agenda, or just looked you in the eyes and lied to you, but was just...distant. not like Barbara's distant, no, he would sometimes start to talk with you then just...stop. It was weird, like he was afraid to actually talk with you.

But nonetheless, he was nice, always giving you a smile in passing and not like the fake or strained ones everyone else gave you, a real genuine smile. It really was a simple gesture, but something that you hadn't realized you desperately needed.

Terry, he was a funny and charming guy. He could think up jokes in a flash, and seemed like a chill, but smart guy. You could see it in his walk, and in his eyes. But he was someone you knew from the get-go you could never reach.

He was someone who, despite his..affiliation with father, was someone who had a normal family. One dad, one mom, and one brother, at the end of every day when he came home he knew what to expect, a kind loving home. And deep in your heart you knew you could never be apart of that.

He would often look past you on his way to who knows what, which was fine. You were quiet when it came to people in the family, and would try to just walk past without looking up.

Kate on the other hand, was someone you didn't want to even attempt to talk to. She was brutally honest, a seemingly common trait in the Wayne blood, and never afraid to show or say what she thought.

Other then to you that is.

Unlike Dick who brushed you off with the promises of another day, or Damien who glared and spouted venomous words every chance he got, she gave you pity.

You could see it in the way she looked at you in passing, the way she could see the burdens on your shoulders, far too many for a kid as young as you. Sure, being a Wayne means having those burdens, but by having so many people around you it would seem lessened in a way.

But not for you.

You could tell by the way she would speak without hesitation when it came to Dick or even father himself, but hesitate when it came to you. And in all honesty, it completely sickened you. Not in a, 'I hate you' way, but the unfamiliarity of being pitied by someone made you queasy.

The funny thing is, your mom would always scold you, tell you that making eye contact is necessary when talking with someone, but in the few times you've been able to talk with her, you could never will yourself to no matter how many times mama's voice rang out in your head.

But, nonetheless, she's related to your father, so because of that she-

Oh.

Thats right. Your father.

Your father, he was well, you honestly didn't even know. He was always off doing something else, something that was apparently more important to him then his own blood child, atleast one of them anyway.

You were curious though, some days when you looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering what features you share with him, or late at night when you were alone with nothing but your thoughts, you wondered stuff about him like, 'does he have a favorite food? Does he like to exercise? Does he like to play pretend like you and mama used to?'

Sometimes one part of you wonders if he would ever play with you if you asked, if he'd be willing to put aside his duties for a little while to play with his child.

But the other part of you already knows the answer to that question.

You knew you would never hold a candle to the people that lived here. That you would never be as athletic as some, or have the same brains as others, but you so desperately wanted to.

You wanted to be able to share your accomplishments with your family, to have them show you off with pride look at you with nothing but admiration and love.

And you tried.

You really did, you pushed and pushed through until everything hurt. Ran in track until your legs would give up, played piano until your fingers felt like they would snap, painted until the once beautiful paintings didn't at all make sense to you.

Your mama, you missed her so much, would tell you that no matter what, the eyes were a window to the soul, something that told you more about someone than any words could.

So why is it that your family's eyes are always so cold and closed off when you look into them?

HI HII I hope you guys enjoy!! Please let me know how it was!! :D

[ultravioletrayz]

omg omg i have an ideeaaa

imagine Miguel and reader just having a lazy day together (its a Saturday) and they have a cute little cuddle/ convo moment, they decide to watch cringe movies in bed and reader orders idk i think its one of those big combo wing meals and as she’s uber eats ordering miguel gets handsy with her and it eventually leads up to some smexy time until the uber driver arrives with their food 🍗🍗

dude this made me hungry (not for food)

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, 69ing, oral (f + m receiving), little bit of a handjob and fingering

Summary: while waiting for your uber eats to arrive, miguel becomes hungry for something different

A/N: i'm in a bit of a slump rn (in my writing and in general) so here's a filler fic to hopefully spark my motivation to finish kinktober

Word Count: 1.4k

The afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the bedroom. You and Miguel lay tangled in the sheets, lethargy making it so that neither of you could even fathom leaving the comfort of bed, the remnants of last night's passion still lingering in the air. The bed is a mess of rumpled blankets and pillows, a testament to the lazy, indulgent day you both had planned, wanting nothing more than to bask in the warmth of each other's embrace and enjoy a well-deserved break.

Miguel's arm is draped over your soft middle, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your supple skin, caressing you as his sharp red eyes follow the shitty slapstick comedy on the TV beside the bed. You giggle as you watch the ridiculous antics on the screen, feeling a certain warmth spread through your chest at the sound of Miguel's soft laughter. The comforting rhythm of his breathing against your skin lulls you into a sense of peace, and you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, however mundane it may seem.

"I'm kinda hungry." You murmur, glancing up at Miguel to gauge his reaction. He merely chuckles and rolls his eyes in the most endearing way possible, giving your side a teasing squeeze.

"You're always hungry." Miguel shrugs, the sarcasm dripping in his voice, making you scoff and shove him playfully. Although even if you meant him harm, it's not as if you'd do much damage. You shoot him a dirty look as you lean over him to grab your phone, opening Uber Eats before Miguel can continue to heartily laugh at your adorable antics.

You scroll indecisively through the app for a few moments, brows furrowed in consideration, taking your choice in lunch very seriously. Miguel smiles dopily, finding your meticulous approach to the task adorable in the most lovesick way.

"Doesn't that place down the block do a 2 for 1 deal on Saturdays?" Miguel pipes up, and you immediately beam at the notion, quickly going to the website of the pizza place and putting in both of your go-to orders.

"You're so smart, baby." You coo teasingly, although you are grateful for his input at the end of the day. No way would you let him know that, though. It's all part of the banter.

Miguel just huffs and holds onto your waist when you lean over him once again to return your phone to the nightstand after ordering, your body reaching over his. Miguel's eyes dart to your tits spilling out of your top as it hangs low off your shoulders due to the action, and he licks his lips at the sight of them; so plush and plump and desperate to be massaged and kneaded until his hands leave a greedy dent in the ample flesh.

The second you flop back down onto the mattress, Miguel's hands are all over you. They dance along your throat, squeeze your breasts, ghost over your waist, grope your ass, part your thighs, cup your pussy, brush against your stomach, all while his eager lips nip at the lobe of your ear. It's incredible how quickly that switch inside of him can flip, that switch that triggers such carnal, filthy desire to taste you, his weeping cock chubbing up more and more with each soft giggle and moan that leaves your lips.

"I thought... thought you wanted pizza?" You breathe out, glazed-over eyes taking in the way Miguel's handsome face has morphed into a pouty, needy depiction of how desperate he is, thick brows knitted together as he feels your body melt into his touch, teeth digging into his bottom lip to hold back a groan at how sexy you look with your sleep shirt all bunched up and that teasing little smile on your face.

"Primero quiero disfrutar de un buen aperitivo." Miguel chuckles raspily, suddenly hurling your body atop his shoulders, making you squeal and perch your hands upon Miguel's powerful abs to stay steady, despite the iron grip he has on the meat of your thighs that straddle him. Impatiently, Miguel drags you back so that you succulent, syrupy pussy hovers above his eager mouth beneath your shirt, making your hands slide up his abdomen. That sensation of your fingers stroking his taught musculature is what pushes Miguel to the point of pure, insatiable need.

With firm, beckoning precision, Miguel's tongue flicks out to plunge between your sopping folds, lapping up the sweetness already decorating the insides of your thighs. He groans and takes deep breathes, drowning himself in your essence, large hands tilting your hips back to plop your pretty cunt right on his salivating mouth. You can't help but mewl and buck on Miguel's handsome face, his tongue rolling over your little clit the moment his plump lips suck the throbbing bud into his warm mouth, while his nose bumps against your dripping hole.

Like a depraved dog, Miguel nods and shakes his head vigorously, rubbing his wet tongue all over the heavenly plains of your pussy, his sharp red eyes rolling back in his head as your honeyed taste coats his tongue and overwhelms his senses hypnotically.

It's obvious how ravenous Miguel is, but your own hunger creeps up on you as your focus teeters between Miguel's mouth, and his weeping, swollen cockhead peeking out from the thin sheet covering his lower half. doing the best to keep your clit snugly presses against the tip of Miguel's tongue, you grab at Miguel's fat, hefty length, bobbing down to lap at his flared, girthy tip.

"Joder, cariño." Miguel groans, frustrated that you've more or less lifted yourself off of his face, but finding your kitten licks to his slit unbearably divine, unable to pull you away in order to continue feasting on your hot sex.

Your tongue teasingly scoops up the drop of precum that glistens at the tip of Miguel's dick before taking him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as your lips glide up and down his length in a slow, sensual rhythm. As you take him deeper into your mouth, Miguel's hips buck up off the mattress, his fingers digging into your thighs in an attempt to hold himself back. His moans grow louder and more desperate as you expertly suck and stroke his cock, relishing in the way he fills your mouth.

The weight of Miguel's dick on your tongue, the pulsing of his veins, that potent, musky taste of pre on your tongue; it's all like a drug to you. So much so, that you moan around Miguel's cock, wiggling your hips above his lips in search of relief.

Miguel, quickly thrown from one horny trance to another, immediately raises his head to kiss your puffy clit messily, releasing one of your legs to scissor your cunt open with two thick fingers, plunging them deep inside of you as his head falls back against the pillows with a moan. All disappointment regarding being unable to properly devour your cunt in this position are outshone by the sight of your tight, gummy walls swallowing Miguel's digits and dripping around them, making Miguel thrust his cock up further into the cushy warmth of your mouth.

You moan around his cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge of his tip. Miguel's breath hitches, his fingers curling inside of you as he nears his climax. As the rough pads of Miguel's digits press against your gooey sweet spot, your eyes squeeze shut and you pull off of his cock, panting and moaning as you pump his length rashly, giving into the pleasure and your fast-approaching high and sitting further back.

Miguel immediately takes over once again, his strong, skillful fingers leaving your pussy to instead push down on your ass, guiding your body to rock against his face. Miguel's tongue lashes out again to trace the folds of your cunt before thrusting deep inside, licking and teasing the walls of your soaking wet core with the roughness of his flat, velvety tongue.

"Miguel! Mig, I-" You cry out, cut off by the obnoxious ding that chimes from your phone and the simultaneous ring of the doorbell, making Miguel's movements falter as he pulls away from your cunt with a dejected sigh leaving his lips, glistening with your slick.

Your actual lunch is here.

absolutely hate this. but shady's back, bitch!

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I get I’m your scapegoat here, but first, I’d like to state, it was a joke. An obvious one too by your claim that five million people are making the same joke in your comments, which I’m assuming you’re exaggerating about since you don’t even have five million notes.

Is the make out joke overused? Yea, probably. But the fandom has been making those jokes for half a century now and if you didn’t want it brought up, you shouldn’t have mentioned “tongue or whatever” at all. I for one, wouldn’t have reblogged with the joke if you hadn’t made the reference first.

It was late at night. I had just found out about the video from that destiel meme and watched it. Given an entire presentation to my roommate about the history of spirk in fandom. I saw your post. Laughed at the joke. Agreed with the rest of it. And hit reblog without thinking to check if my comment had been said yet. That was the extent of my consideration of it. I promptly forgot about your post and moved on until I saw your reblog a bit ago.

You say you aren’t being pendantic, but you are. The definition is literally to be concerned with formal rules, and to be finicky about it all. Which you are. I am too now, but at least I’m admitting it.

Sure, it’s an extrapolation fans made that was debunked by Leonard Nimoy in his book I Am Spock where he reveals that touching fingers (the gesture that was extrapolated from) was meant to be the equivalent of holding hands, and not kissing. But it’s also been in the fandom at large for decades now, to the point that the producers of the franchise are aware of it. First of all, Nimoy wouldn’t have debunked it if he didn’t know it was a thing fans thought. And secondly, according to memory alpha (which isn’t the best source, but it’s the one I have right now), in the first draft of the episode Fusion in Enterprise, it was clearly scripted as a sexual reference by stating that the touch was “sensual”. While the scene was reworked and the part of the finger touching seems to have been removed, the writers clearly knew it was a belief of the fandom or they wouldn’t have thought to use it as a precursor to what seems to be a shared sex dream between two Vulcan characters.

Extrapolations may have happened, but that doesn’t mean you should insult the intelligence of anyone that supports it as a headcanon.

Jokes aside, my thought process was not, “more skin contact = more erotic”. It was, “Two people are melding their minds together with a touch and the larger the surface area, the more psionic information is probably passed between the two, and for a bonded pair, that probably feels euphoric.” It also followed the logic that something referenced in every single Star Trek fanfiction I’ve ever read, probably had a base of truth in the franchise somewhere.

And again, you’re right that the scene in unification was a tender and loving moment and we should be able to appreciate that for what it is. But as stated previously. You brought up the “tongue and whatever” yourself in a post about Spock and Kirk holding hands in a fandom that has been known for making jokes about holding hands for fifty some years now.

My apologies for making the mistake of reblogging your post. It won’t happen again. This might be your post, but don’t assume that a scapegoat is going to lie there and take it because you’re annoyed.

like maybe unification didn't make spirk canon in that we didn't see them make out with tongue or whatever but what it did make canon and what makes it so incredibly important to me is that kirk and spock's ending is no longer so goddamn tragic.

before, jim died in his sixties and spock spent the next 100+ years missing him before dying alone. now, even with all the tragedy and heartbreak and the lifetime spent apart, they were together in the end. they were together and happy and everything was beautiful!!

[skippingthroughfields]

one thing that's missing from these convos about amc not submitting assad zaman for a golden globes nom that makes it 10x more malicious on amc's part is that a nomination isn't just like oh... ~simple appreciation for an actor's performance. even if there's no win, it results in a profile boost for these actors & them being able to command a higher salary when it comes to future projects. it's something that gets notice on their CV. these studios and networks love being able to market their shit with things like "starring golden globe nominee john doe" or "emmy winner jane doe." the emmys are more prestigious than the golden globes which are more prestigious than the critics choice awards (the one they submitted him for with two other actors lol). actors get nominated and have the opportunity to get attention from social media posts, article mentions, attending the red carpet, having their name announced and a little clip of their acting shown. that's not nothing! attention from possible new fans, publications, execs, peers, producers, directors, fashion houses & other industries which could lead to $$$ and sponsorships. I won't make any presumptions about the cast's finances but I do know amc is probably not paying them their worth, least of all the bangladeshi muslim who barely had any major roles in tv/film prior to the show.

there are fees and costs associated with submitting for awards consideration and FYC ads. the network basically took a look at assad's brown skin and name and said they don't think he's worth the money over the white actor who had less screentime and narrative importance (to the season ig) which is absolutely crazy lmao. it shouldn't be controversial to say that and you can't not discuss this without bringing up sam's name. this has nothing to do with whether he "deserved" to be submitted (and even if I said he doesn't deserve it over assad who's gonna beat my ass?). this white man isn't being persecuted by conversations about blatant racism. but I'd expect nothing less from this fanbase x.

[justwinginglife]

At The End Of Life

Having a boyfriend is great. Unless he has a huge bounty on his head and you're just trying to enjoy one date without him getting killed.

“Baby, I love you. I really, really do love you. But next time you slam a guy’s head through the table, could you at least move the dessert out of the way first?” 

Rafayel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but a grin was tugging at the edge of his lips. “Hey- I bought you another slice of cake, didn’t I?”

With the tip of your shoe, you nudged the unconscious man off of the splattered remains of your dessert. “And what if I wanted that slice of cake in particular?” 

Rafayel tilted his head to examine his handiwork before smirking at you. “That slice is occupied. Besides, I bought you a bigger slice to make up for it, so hurry up and forgive me already.” 

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, Mr. Rafayel, the girlfriend bylaws clearly state that no forgiveness shall be issued until a satisfactory date has been had, and so far, the aforementioned date has not been on par with company standards.”

He snorted in response. “Thought I hired a bodyguard, not a lawyer. Alright, I’ll see your ‘company standards’ and raise you one ‘romantic boat ride’ across the lake, how’s that sound, cutie?”

You beamed at his suggestion, clapping your hands excitedly. Then you cleared your throat, reassuming your professional demeanor. “After careful consideration, your proposal has been accepted by the council. You are free to proceed with date activities immediately following this approval.” 

Rafayel chuckled, shaking his head slightly, before holding his hand out to you. “Then would the invited party please accompany me to the docks?”

After paying the bill, paying for the broken table, and boxing up your leftover dessert -still paying no mind to the unconscious hitman lying on the restaurant floor- Rafayel was finally ready to lead you to the next part of your date. 

As you made your way down the dock, you giggled to yourself, thinking about the last time the two of you had been in a row boat together. You were honestly surprised he’d proposed a boat ride after he almost didn’t survive the last one. But maybe this time he’d learned how to properly work a boat, maybe this time you wouldn’t have to swim your way back to shore. Either way, you were sure to have a lively time. 

When he paused in front of a yacht, holding his hand out to help you up the steps, you froze. “What happened to ‘romantic boat ride on the lake’?”

He gave you a sly grin, tilting his head teasingly. “But isn’t the ocean just like a really big lake? And a yacht is just a really big boat.” 

You laughed and took his hand, letting him lead you aboard. “I see you learned from your past mistakes.” 

He straightened defensively, lips pursed into a slight pout. “I have no idea what you’re talking about; I just wanted to take my girlfriend for a ride on my newly acquired yacht, that’s all.” 

“No puking this time,” You teased, poking him on the nose as you settled beside him on a lounge chair. 

“I would never puke! I’m not a puker.” He whined, crossing his arms. 

You pinched his cheeks. “No, no, you’re right. Not a puker. Just a really big baby.” 

He swatted you away as his ears tinged red. “Hey, cut it out! Besides, doesn’t today’s date make up for that… incident?” He looked over at you hopefully. 

You curled up against him and watched the city shrink from view. “It does, baby. It really does. This is lovely, thank you.”

For a moment, he just held you in silence, enjoying the warmth of your body against him, as you drifted further out to sea together. The sunlight danced on the waters, and the fluttering breeze gave you an excuse to hold him tighter. With one hand, he played with your hair, and with the other, he fed you a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries. It was the perfect date. 

And then he set the deckhand’s hair on fire.

It wasn’t until the man dove head first into the ocean in a crazed attempt to put out the fire, screaming bloody murder the whole way, that you noticed the gun he had been holding, having clattered to the deck amidst all the chaos. 

You sighed. Is everyone trying to kill us today?

Rafayel simply munched on a strawberry as he watched the scene before him play out like he was doing nothing more than snacking on popcorn at a movie theater. He even had the audacity to call out his score of the man’s dive like he was some judge in the Olympics, “Boo, poor form. 4/10! Try arching your back more next time!” He waved at the man bobbing in the water as the boat took you further and further away. 

“Another strawberry, cutie?” He thumbed at your lip to get you to open wide.

You waved him away. “I don’t know how you can think about food at a time like this, I mean, what in the hell is going on today? This is the third person to attack us in, like, the last two hours. Are we even going to survive a full date?”

He shrugged and popped the strawberry that was meant for you into his mouth. “We’ll be fine, cutie. Besides, the bounty on me is so little, I highly doubt it’s enough to tempt anyone else to give it a shot, I mean really, only 24 million, that’s all I’m worth? What lousy, cheap-”

“I’m sorry, DID YOU SAY BOUNTY??” 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Did I say bounty? Is that what I said? It’s so warm out here, I think I may be getting heat stroke.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Rafayel-” You warned.

“-And the waves are loud, the birds are loud, the breeze is loud, can you even be sure you heard me right?”

You pinched his arm. “Rafayel!”

“Yeah, okay, alright! So what if I have a bounty on my head? Can’t help it if I’m in high demand.”

You flicked him in the forehead. “No, your corpse is in high demand.”

He feigned injury, bringing his hand up to shield his wounded forehead. “Yeah well, corpse or no corpse, it’s still me they want. Your boyfriend is a high value target, I’ll have you know.” He straightened in his seat, almost sounding proud. No, not almost. He was proud.

“You know what I highly value-” Another man approached from behind but you’d already shoved the last strawberry into Rafayel’s startled mouth before smashing the metal fruit tray down on the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor with a thud and Rafayel smirked at his unconscious figure as he licked chocolate off his lips. He’d never been more in love with you in his entire life than he was right now. “-I value my life. I value your life,” You continued to lecture Rafayel as you handcuffed the man to the railing, “-And I value someone who knows how to hire legitimate staff. I mean seriously, when you were picking employees to man the yacht, was it a prerequisite for them to have murderous intent on their resumes? How did you hire nothing but mercenaries?”

He shrugged. “Blame the economy- do you know how hard it is to find good boating staff on such short notice?”

You face palmed. “Rafayel, honey, you can’t blame the economy when you’re literally rich.”

“Global warming then?”

“It’s a good thing I love you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Try to remember that, yeah?”

He didn’t make it easy for you. 

When you had to literally hold the Captain of the ship at gunpoint to turn around and take you back to the city because, surprise surprise, he was also a hitman who was hired to send Rafayel to his watery grave out in international waters, you muttered to yourself over and over again, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you finally docked in the harbor, called for a cab, and then had to beg said cab driver to wait just a moment longer because your boyfriend got distracted by a person selling flowers on the sidewalk and wanted to buy you a bouquet as an apology, you rolled your eyes and shook your head laughing to yourself, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you picked through the flowers in the car ride home and noticed a strange gadget tucked in between the stems just in time for the three of you to jump out of the cab before it blew up, you explained to the cop who took your statement, “You see, I love my boyfriend, I love him, but-”

12 assassination attempts later, after swerving buses, after poisoned glasses, after clumsy sniping, the two of you finally made it back to Rafayel’s house with almost all your limbs intact. Almost. Rafayel claimed he sprained his wrist during one of the scuffles so badly that you were now required to hold his hand for “support.”

You wanted to call him on his BS.

But there was just something about 12 assassination attempts, on your boyfriend’s life that put things into perspective. You were expecting to grow old with him. You were expecting to wake up to him whining about where he last put his dentures or hear him whizzing by in his wheelchair and race after him in your walker. You were expecting rings and wrinkles, cradles and coffins, all with him. So it could’ve been 12 assassins after him, could’ve been 13, could’ve been 100, could’ve been 1000- didn’t matter the number; you weren’t letting anyone take him from you, not when he still owed you a lifetime. If the Grim Reaper himself knocked at the door, you’d kick him to the curb. Try again in another 80 years. 

So if Rafayel wanted to fake injury just to hold your hand, you'd hold his damn hand. If he wanted to run into the line of fire, you'd keep pace.

At the end of the day, Rafayel was still yours, and at the end of his life (his very, very long life), you’d still be his: that was your prophecy and that was your promise.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End! Thanks For Reading!

Author’s Note: I have a headcanon that Rafayel totally knew he hired hitmen to man his yacht but he was like, "But the chef makes the best food though. I can only hire the best for my baby, who cares if he tries to kill me on the way? And the captain is the best at navigating the waters, what if a storm comes on? Who cares if he’s an assassin, he’s a damn good driver." Rafayel isn’t worried in the least, he knows he’s stronger than all of them and could take them down in an instant if needed. He’s just surprised that you’re the one taking them down. With a fruit tray, no less. And it was hot. Maybe he wandered into trouble 12 more times just to see you jump in to protect him. So hot. 

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @tbaluver @ouiouimochi

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXV): The Mulder-Scully Family, a Convergence of Fate and Freewill

Philes, we have arrived at the last part of the Scully Family series-- and what better way to end this than on a victorious high note?

A SYZYGY

Scully's journey to motherhood is complicated. In The Jersey Devil, she hasn't seriously considered children because she doesn't have a serious relationship. In Home, she draws pointed parallels between her mothering considerations and Mulder's genetic makeup (post here.) In Detour, she brings Mulder a celebratory cheese platter (assuming he'd taken the case to get out of the conference with her.) In Dreamland I, she longingly rambles about other people living normal lives with their houses and children and dogs. In Milagro, she uses Padgett as a means to grab Mulder's attention (posts here.) In The Unnatural, she brings tofutti rice dreamsicles, flirts about her partner's childhood, and happily joins him for a very early or very late birthday gift. (I posit that after The Unnatural, she runs to her doctor in hopes of discovering some slim chance to become pregnant; and this kicks off the IVF arc-- to be discussed below.) She and Mulder keep the family planning book in his office after their attempts fail (as glimpsed in Amor Fati and Brand X.) And she finds out she's pregnant right after her partner has been abducted by aliens.

That's not the full tangle of the IVF and William arc, though-- lest we forget who she was trying to have a baby with... and that Mulder has consistently refused to consider "a normal life" (and parenthood) each time the potential stared him in the face.

The Jersey Devil sets him up in direct opposition to "a normal life", Home shows him reinforcing that decision quite clearly (video here), and Detour and Emily double and triple down. Yet... he wants to be the father of Scully's baby during the IVF arc ("The-the answer is yes.") And he knows William is his-- "What we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know"-- and is proud of that fact (in spite of the PTSD and drama at play, post here.) When, and why, did he change?

And because this is The X-Files, the tangle doesn't end there. In the previous part here I explored the failed convergence of fate and freewill in the birth, life, and death of one Emily Sim-- all in all, a failure to launch for Scully’s dreams of motherhood, normalcy, and partnership. In the wake of her daughter’s death and the loss of the X-Files, Mulder and Scully are forced to reassess the parameters of their relationship: Mulder has to confess (in his own way) to the nature of his reliance on and feelings for Scully, or lose her forever (Fight the Future); and Scully has to work through her self-doubts and trust to whatever lies between them (The End-Fight the Future.) Therefore, when Season 6 begins with a below-the-belt punch to both, they squabble and feel hurt (The Beginning) but ultimately magnetize back together (Drive.) Repeatedly (One Son-Agua Mala; Milagro-The Unnatural; Field Trip-Biogenesis.) It’s a push-and-pull, back-and-forth, give-a-little-get-a-little routine they settle into, allowing both the space to breathe, to test some boundaries, and to draw back and regroup whenever they so choose. This contributes to the buoyancy and low-stakes struggle of their personal relationship, especially compared to the world-ending tribulations (or professional bug bears) that dog them day in and day out. There are personal struggles of course-- massive ones-- but nothing that does not glue itself back together as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Still, there's one last key component in the Emily Sim, IVF, and William arc. Fate and freewill carry a huge, huge role in Mulder and Scully's work: particularly, the ways both view their work. @nachosncheezies put it quite succinctly: "That Mulder looooves free will, but especially when confronted with the big things he tends to falter - Samantha might have been taken by men based on his parents' choice; Scully's continued presence on the Files and beside him is a choice (and the horrors she suffers are not an inescapable Fate caused by her proximity to him, but something she chooses to endure and continue to risk, because she values the rewards). That Scully wants very much to believe that there's a greater power guiding things, but gets so shook when directly confronted with the notion that God might indeed have more control than she or the people around her." It's how Mulder chooses to view his work (telling Scully “I don’t think this is about justice, Scully. I think it's about fate" in Paper Clip); and how Scully chooses to view not just the work ("I need something to put my back up against"), but her choices and Mulder's choices and life's good and bad, gruesome and beautiful realities. Fate and freewill themselves are constantly locked in battle, weaving themselves into the narrative before getting snagged against each other and having to be unpicked. This is mainly due to the markedly inconsistent writing; but it's there, on purpose, to serve as the show's backdrop.

And under the fate vs. freewill heading, there is one last snarl we need to take into consideration: Melissa Scully and the impact of her legacy on Scully's personal journey. It's Melissa who encourages her sister to "follow your heart, and it'll take you where you're supposed to go" in A Christmas Carol; it's Melissa who speaks for her sister in One Breath, it's Melissa who tells her sister Mulder is still alive and warns her she's "shut off from her own intuition" in The Blessing Way, it's Melissa who died in her sister's stead, it's Melissa who leads her sister to her daughter from the afterlife, and it's Melissa's influence that leads her sister to her own voice and conscience in all things. Melissa acts as the bridge between Fate and Freewill: the heart is destined for something, someplace, somewhere; but you must choose to listen to and follow it to find where you're supposed to go. As @deathsbestgirl put it (post here), "but missy's presence is still felt, her influence on scully outlives her. scully is always trying to reach melissa, to feel her. melissa is always guiding her, and as scully moves further on her path (with mulder), allows herself to learn more about what happened during her abduction/because of her abduction (something melissa wanted her to do shortly before her death), like with emily and the red & the black...every step brings her close to melissa."

So: when do these ideas-- Scully's journey, Mulder's journey, the battle of Fate and freewill, and Melissa Scully's legacy-- culminate and begin to manifest in the Scully Family Series?

The answer: the IVF arc.

THE STARS ALIGN… AND FALTER

Where does the IVF arc fall? That can be debated until the end of time; but for me personally, the only math that maths adds up to a late Season 6 timeline (post here)-- right in the midst of rule breaking and negotiations; and right after Mulder’s perspective begins to shift, allowing him to see the possibility of “life on this planet.” 

Scully’s second attempt at motherhood quickly devolves into the same pattern as the first. Struck one day with the urge to retest her fertility (after a very early or very late birthday present, I suggest), she rushes off to a (seemingly last minute) medical checkup. Scully books an appointment without telling her partner (despite her hopes immediately revolving around him when she gets a positive second opinion-- which means, he was on her mind when she booked the first one, as well.) Further, when Scully returns to the FBI, dispirited, she attempts to deflect his inquiries after Mulder catches up with her in the elevator. But he won’t let this go; and she sighs, admits she’d been at the doctor’s office, then drops into silence. 

“Don’t make me guess,” Mulder quips, afraid it’s cancer. 

Skipping over Per Manum’s dialogue gaffe-- one which contradicts Emily’s timeline-- we arrive at the revelation: “I am not yet ready to accept I won’t have children,” she admits. 

Mulder begins to walk away, but gives in to his conscience, turning back to explain, “Scully, there’s, um, there’s something I haven’t told you-- and I hope you would forgive me and understand why I kept it from you.”

Tense and confused, Scully asks, “What?”

“During my investigation into your illness, I found out why you were barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

And while this, too, could fall into showbible blunder, Scully’s next line salvages it: “What? You found them?” puts the stress on 'found', implying her shock comes from his discovery more so than the details he’s sharing. 

“I-I took them directly to a specialist who would… tell me if they were okay,” he replies, softly, head down and unable to meet her eyes: because they weren’t okay. Scully is too distraught to make this connection, yet. 

“I… I don’t believe this--” 

“Scully, you were deathly ill and I… I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” Mulder finally looks up, ashamed but sincere. 

Devastated, she’s pulled up short. “Is that what it was, it was bad news?” 

He nods, blinks, maintains eye contact as he slowly explains, “The doctor said that the ova weren’t viable.”

Immediately, Scully distances herself from this pain, punching the elevator button and insisting, “I want a second opinion.” 

Mulder, knowing what his partner’s doing, tries to stop her-- physically reaching out to block the doors from closing-- but gives in when Scully flinches, then shoots him a pleading look: if she doesn’t collect herself alone, she will fall apart. Giving in (what else can he do? his actions have hurt her deeply), he lets her go. 

Scully’s quest for family is once again stymied by the Consortium; and she is spared, once again, from the traumas of tampered motherhood. 

After an undetermined time later, Dr. Parenti joins her in the waiting room with good-- for him-- news: “Ms. Scully, I’ve got a good report for you. I’ve looked at the ova you’ve given me and consulted with some of my colleagues; we all feel that, with the proper approach, it might be successful.”

And that’s the insidious, despicable underbelly to the IVF arc: Dr. Parenti spoke with his colleagues about one Dana Scully-- i.e. he, the Consortium plant, knew exactly who she was and exactly what this vial of ova meant. 

And he, Dr. Parenti, was likely going to use her ova and her womb for his benefit; and if he and his colleagues felt generous, he'd grow her real, replacement child in a tube somewhere to swap with at birth (like he did with Kathy McCready.)

Now: could Scully have had a perfectly normal IVF pregnancy, a one-in-a-million shot that wasn’t tampered or interfered with?

Put bluntly, no:

Dr. Parenti’s clinic was an extension of the arm of the Syndicate, either carrying out his own experiments with their permission or carrying out a niche of their experiments for them. 

The Consortium crumbled in One Son, but vestiges remained-- carrying out CSM’s directives in En Ami and Requiem, and leaving their research facilities scattered, here and there, undetected. 

Parenti worked out of one of these research facilities; and, whatever his "research" had been before the Syndicate’s collapse, it couldn’t have been much different than it is when Scully and Doggett investigated him in S8. 

Further, even if Scully came to his clinic sometime before or after One Son, his purposes were already set in place; and like Scanlon and Calderon, he could, in all probability, take the evidence and disappear into thin air if detected. Meaning, he is ruthless and one-track minded. 

Meaning, Scully’s chances-- which were nil because of the ova’s unviability-- were most certainly tampered with: either to produce another half-formed alien child-- which he might swap with a test tube baby with varying degrees of health-- or to sabotage any chance of success. And, unfortunately, if he wanted to do the latter, he would simply have said there was no chance of success, at all. 

As much as the IVF arc appeals to me, the fact that Parenti walked into the room with a malicious glint in his eye, declared there to be a chance after he consulted with his colleagues, and knew full well who those were and how Scully factored into their equation… there is no way, shape, or form that Scully’s pregnancy would have avoided trauma of some sort: miscarriage; induced labor, perhaps unconscious C-section, and a baby swap; or death. 

Unaware of these odds, Scully collapses in a chair; and before she can process this news completely, Dr. Parenti begins to pressure her for a now, now, now timeline: the odds would be better the sooner they started. Another hint at his greedy machinations. 

“We can start right away?” she asks, stunned-- and, again, her pattern kicks in: hurry, hurry, hurry; don’t think; this is the right thing to do; run; go, go, go. 

“Well, you’d need a father,” the doctor advises; but Scully’s face falls at ‘anonymous donor’, her eyebrows pinching and her eyes dropping at the realization that she’s going to have to ask Mulder to be that donor. Of course she is; and that certainty makes her immediately uncertain of his reaction. “Unless you have someone in mind?”

“Yeah. I, uh….” The music drops, uneasy. “I just have to figure out how to ask him.” 

Mulder’s acceptance, Scully’s reaction; and Mulder’s comfort, and Scully’s tears I’ve already been recorded here; but it bears repeating for this analysis, if in brief. 

We aren’t shown the moment Scully asks for Mulder’s help; but we are shown his shiny eyes and shy eagerness, her anxious timidity and teary delight when he accepts. Mulder comes through that door ready to have a part of that “more” his partner is seeking-- in short, to be a father. Scully mistakes his breathless premise as rejection, and reveals (with her down-turned eyes and crestfallen, “I should have known” expression) that she doubted he’d ever accept this request; or, more accurately, doubted he’d want to change their partnership. It’s part and parcel-- she believes-- of the one step forward, two steps back jig they’ve been doing recently; but it also hits her in the pain point that his turn-aside in Emily (“Are you two the parents?”) created.  

“Th-the answer is yes,” he assures, poking at her arm; and her face transforms into varying stages of overwhelmed delight, unable to believe he wants this, now, with her-- that he wants to share this with her-- quite literally wants to take part in this with her.

And, I believe, both know what this truly means: that Mulder is signing on to be an active father. Despite turning aside from Emily Sim, he did his utmost to protect and save her. That was a responsibility he was thrust into, and one he didn’t turn away from... but one he chose to keep distance from, as well. There is no distance here: “the answer is yes”, after all. 

Again, I shall briefly touch on the moment they receive devastating news (and, again, the post is linked above.) 

Mulder is napping on Scully’s couch, waiting for her return from her appointment. She isn’t surprised, necessarily, to see him there; and he makes no bones about the fact he “must have dozed off” as time crawled by. Seeing her sad face, hearing her defeated, “I guess it was too much to hope for”, he gathers her up in his arms, comforts his partner during her wailing, “This was my last chance!”, and promises her, “Never give up on a miracle.” Mulder has learned to believe in this possibility, and he doesn’t want to let that belief go. 

Already, we see the blurred lines of their partnership: 

After her request and his acceptance, Mulder greets Scully at her apartment-- a marked change in routine from their usual meeting spot (his apartment or the basement.) 

Mulder is just as anxious and excited as she is at the possibility of success. 

And though her “last chance” has failed, he refuses to let the idea of her having a child and achieving her dreams go-- they came this close, he assumes, on the rarest of chances. What’s to say they won’t again? 

Scully, meanwhile, has her own tells: 

She is not (too) surprised to find Mulder in her apartment, despite both of them meeting (more often than not) at his place. 

She clings to him and cries on his shoulder-- the third time in their partnership (Irresistible, Fight the Future, Per Manum.) 

Not only does she cling to him and cry openly, she does so in stark contrast to her previously closed-off emotions (in Emily, and in the beginning of Per Manum’s flashbacks.)

She almost kisses his forehead-- a callback to her authoritative claim in Fight the Future; and one she does not repeat until she reaffirms that claim in Amor Fati-- but ducks at the last second, and vaguely lands on his cheek. 

She allows herself to be consumed by his soothing hug.

In conclusion: neither person was denying what this was to them-- a chance at their own form of a normal life, a bit of hers and a bit of his all blended together in one perfect, successful last chance. But, alas, that was not to be. (And, considering Dr. Parenti’s intentions, that was a good thing.) 

A second attempt; but the first joint failure. 

A “NORMAL LIFE” DEFEATS FATE

And here we reach the grand conclusion of the question of freewill versus fate. 

As previously discussed, Mulder views his quest in righteous terms-- Fate-- to bear up under it; while Scully decisively argues her position in factual terms-- Freewill-- to make sense of it.

“This child was not meant to be,” he warns about Emily; and “Don’t give up on a miracle”, he encourages after the IVF: both statements are lacking perspective and personal agency.

“I don’t see what choice I have," she responds about the adoption; and “I guess it was too much to hope for," she mourns after the IVF: both statements are laced with insecurity and defeat. 

The lingerings of these resolutions are resolved in Amor Fati and all things, respectively. Mulder solidifies his “life on this planet” after being dragged into the bowels of “another life, another world.” It is Conscience, personified by Scully, who confronts his weakness, calling him a coward and leaving him to make an active choice of his own freewill. Mulder chooses to leave behind bigger aspirations, higher callings, greater, inactive purpose to open his eyes to the true world-- the truth-- and cling to her: an integration of freewill. She is, he realizes, his touchstone. Scully solidifies her decision to stay with Mulder-- not the files, not the work, not their romantic relationship-- after being given a chance to take another path. And it is Conscience, personified by the running woman-- revealed to be Mulder-- who confronts Scully’s self doubt and directionless spiral, leading her one step at a time to her own resolution and peace. Scully chooses to let go of her doubt and indecision, trusting in her instincts to guide her: an integration of fate. He is, she realizes, where she belongs.

Both of these journeys finally sync up in all things: Scully tells Mulder about talking to God and falls asleep, Mulder rambles about paths not taken and tucks a blanket around her. And Scully of her own freewill joins Mulder in bed; and together they create their own miracle-- a sprinkle of fate and a boatload of personal choice. 

William, then, is a perfect combination: not because he is an alien super soldier or a divine proof of God or a result of the corrupt, freewill actions of other forces or "the key to everything" fated into existence through White Buffalo prophecy to save the world (@deathsbestgirl thoughts and post here), but because he is human. Normal. A miracle because he is not at all what anyone except Scully and Mulder expected him to be.

“We feared the possibilities,” Mulder acknowledges while holding his days-old son. “The truth we both know.” 

“Which is what?” Scully asks-- also one guided by definitives. 

And he gives her one-- a kiss-- to mark this new chapter of their lives. 

What is that new chapter, you wonder? 

In Requiem, Mulder and Scully miss sign after sign of her pregnancy, fearing she is suffering from close proximity to an abductee ship. She shuffles to his hotel room, sick and weak; and he tucks her up and whispers, “There has to be an end, Scully.” 

Mulder is a man of half-sentences and vague meanings: there has to be an end for Scully, for all she’s sacrificed.

“I want you to go home”, he admits.

“Oh, Mulder, I’m fine,” she whispers; but it’s not the full truth. 

"No, no, I've been thinking about it: looking at you today holding that baby... knowing everything that's been taken away from you. The chance for motherhood--" Scully's face scrunches in pain: she can't pretend this wound has healed, "--and your health and that baby. I think that... y'know, maybe they're right." Mulder speaks gently, contemplatively: and though this moment is focusing on Scully's losses, there is more going on-- particularly in Mulder himself.

"Who's right?" Scully asks, waveringly.

"The FBI," he answers plainly, sorrow and realization blending together."

Scully doesn't respond, brows wrinkling in confusion.

"Maybe what they say is true-- but for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high."

Scully doesn't respond, again: more importantly, she doesn't deny. And although she doesn't agree-- although she's stuck in worried limbo, afraid for her health, stumbling over the fact of her infertility-- she seems to be considering his words, or the intent behind them. Even more importantly, Scully doesn't know what Mulder's point is: that she resign? That they resign together? Is he turning over a new leaf just when she's learned to accept her choices and his ways for what they are?

Like Elegy, both are “afraid of the same thing”: that the final toll of this quest will consume Scully. (Just as they "feared the possibilities" in Existence.) She tries to escape this sense of doom by working, by nearly fighting her partner to go back to Bellefleur when Krycek and Marita show up dangling special intelligence. Mulder, however, is tired of loss, tired of years and years without closure. He floats the idea of leaving, for her sake; and doesn’t push it farther. But it’s on his mind, her health and her happiness; and her health and her happiness, he ruminates with mature clarity, might not be sold in bulk at the FBI. On the flip side, Mulder doesn’t float the solid idea of him leaving, too: he hasn’t let go: he's yet to make a decisive choice to leave (ala Vienen.)  

Mulder returns to Bellefleur; and Mulder is abducted right before Scully finds out she’s pregnant. 

There’s a deeper dive to be had regarding Mulder’s rewritten demise in Requiem and second rewritten death in Three Words. Be that as it may, Mulder is forced onto the alien spaceship; Mulder is tortured for long months against his will; and Mulder is “killed” and buried before he can learn about the existence of his child. Here, again, is the Fate conundrum: Mulder's "fated" quest lays claim to him now that he begins to contemplate another path. As for Scully, she decides to fight-- and fight hard-- to get her partner back, railing against Kersh’s edicts, throwing water in Doggett’s face, asserting her authority over extraterrestrial life, and leading the charge in her own efforts to locate the spaceship.

She almost loses her baby, three times, due to the stress and drive of her choices; yet, Mulder still “dies”-- Fate, it seems, has won. But Mulder is alive (through Skinner's choice); and her hard work pays off when he blinks awake. 

In short: Mulder and Scully beat the machinations of Fate-- he outlasted the torture and death intended for him; and she fought back against others’ intent for her partner, the files, and their child.

A brief note on Scully’s Season 8 pregnancy: in A Christmas Carol, Emily, and Per Manum, we see her throwing caution to the wind to grasp after second chances, unwittingly falling into traps in a vain attempt to capture happiness. In Requiem, Within, Without, and Roadrunners, however, she's pivoted priorities, ruthlessly upping the ante to reclaim her partner, thrusting herself into dangerous situations without first taking the baby’s life into account. It's the same, though inverted, psychological underpinnings: desperation, motivation, and determination. She had to face motherhood alone with Emily Sim; and she was able to face the IVF failure with Mulder’s support. But carrying Mulder’s baby to term and raising it, alone, is another thing; and one she is aware comes with a predetermined end date on the files. Scully justifies the risks and peril-- at first-- in Mulder’s name. Scully bandies about the country trying to keep the files going in her partner's stead, for his return; but the truth is, she is using the files to escape from her reality. And as she finds out in Alone, Scully’s also unable to let the files go-- which surprises her (even though she'd previously refused to let them go during the three months her partner was buried. Perhaps Scully's self-awareness was out to pasture, as often happens when she's buried under stress and grief, e.g. Beyond the Sea, Irresistible, Memento Mori, Elegy, etc.)

This proves a few things: 

As much as Scully proclaims she “wants to settle down, have something approaching a normal life”, and as much as Mulder insists she should go (Fight the Future, Requiem), Scully can’t or won’t leave until it feels right. “Follow your heart, and it’ll take you where you’re supposed to go,” Melissa told her, once (post here); and she was completely correct about her sister. 

As much as Scully committed to leaving the FBI for Emily or the IVF’s sake, she wasn’t ready either time; and was pushing that thought away with countdown clocks and ticking time bombs. 

Scully chose to stay on the files for the entirety (or most) of her pregnancy; and drifted back on maternity leave, conflicted. Saving Doggett’s life one last time and meeting Agent Leyla Harrison assured her that there will always be more believers to take up the cause. She is convinced her decision to leave was the right one, and lets that part of her life go in good conscience.  

It's Three Words, and Mulder is alive! All, however, is not smooth sailing. He is alive but withdrawn, riddled with wounds and PTSD; and Scully is confused and hurt, riddled with guilt and expectations. 

Three Words unfolds, and they get through it together; Empedocles unfolds, and Mulder begins to embrace his role as ‘the father’; Vienen unfolds, and Scully is vexed that her partner ran off to a potential death without remembering his child; Vienen resolves, and Mulder quits; Alone unfolds, and Scully is drawn back to her work while Mulder keeps drawing her away from it; Alone resolves, and both have relaxed into their role as X-Files retirees and impending parents. Mulder chooses to leave, and has taken steps to solidify that choice; Scully realizes she hadn't let go, and makes with her transition.

Yet, we have the madness of Essence and Existence.

The question-- for Mulder at least-- of Fate or Freewill hasn’t been sufficiently settled: in Essence’s opener, he ponders, "But has our ingenuity rendered the miracle into a simple trick? In the artifice of replicating life can we become the creator? Then what of the soul? Can it too be replicated? Does it live in this matter we call DNA? Or is its placement the opposite of artifice, capable only by God? How did this child come to be? What set its heart beating? Is it the product of a union? Or the work of a divine hand, an unanswered prayer, a true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? What do I tell myself?" Scully, predictably, doesn’t want to entertain more doubts or heartbreak after her previous scares; and has stuck her head decidedly in the sand (i.e. The Blessing Way, Memento Mori, etc.) That child is his, he knows (post here); but Fate, he feels, has played cruel tricks before. There are already two metaphorical graves for Scully’s children; and another one either grown from a tube or destroyed with Calderon’s abominable experiments. 

The show boils the entirety of (then) canon down to its essential themes: the truth they both know, but the possibilities they fear; Mulder wants to believe, and Scully's afraid to believe.

As previously mentioned, Mulder is caught up in doubts, then conspiracies; and he flails around for answers. When he rushes to her apartment and tries to help her pack, Scully becomes more and more heated at his non-answers.

"No, just stop! Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it something to do with my baby?'

"No," he assures gently, "your, your baby is fine." Then his gravitas shifts, and he adds hurriedly, "It's you who's in danger now, Scully."

"From who? Mulder, from what?"

"I don't know--" that's not enough for Scully, nor her anxiety, "--I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything. I just know I got to get you out of here."

Finally, she yells, “Look, Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this—as, as the object of some unending X-File.”

Mulder, pushed to his extremis, finally tells her what she needed to hear for most of their partnership and especially after her pregnancy, his death, and his resurrection: “This isn't about the X-Files, Scully. It is only about you. Now, you are going to have this baby and I'm going to do everything I can to protect it.”

These two statements speak volumes: Scully and Mulder have both chosen to put the files behind them.

Why is this so important? Because for the first time in each pit stop towards parenthood-- towards expanding the Scully family, if you will-- this baby and its safety is not an x-file for Mulder, is not another life that wasn’t meant to exist; and this baby is not an x-file for Scully, is not tied to a traumatic, stolen moment from her past. She wants one area of her life to be free from conspiracy and collusion; and he wants the baby (and Scully) to be safe, once and for all.

We’ll keep Existence brief because its nonsensical, illogical, and frankly stupid writing decisions could be studied as a “How Not To” guide. After sending Scully away due to his fears (and relapse into a Freeze response, post here), Mulder comes to his senses and flies out to Georgia, arriving too late to prevent any real danger and missing the birth of his child. Scully, meanwhile, gives up; and allows herself to be schlepped away to the middle of nowhere, giving birth before an audience of unfeeling monsters. Suffice to say, despite multiple factions breathing down their necks and insisting this child is a proof of God or a weapon for or against the planet, William’s birth confirms that he is, indeed, a normal child: a plot twist to Fate and the creatures who attempted to play god. 

If we tune down the unnecessary noise, one key detail sticks out: Scully did not know the sex of her baby. When trying to barter for her baby's life, a mother will do anything to humanize her child to its threat. That action is one with the highest chance of success-- and a medical doctor trained in the FBI would know this. In fact, we've seen Scully use this technique before (ex. in Monday with Bernard.) Yet, she doesn't: she pleads for "my baby" and "please don't let them take it." 'It' is the clearest sign of her ignorance (and was purposefully written that way, I believe-- a two-fold "What is the sex?" and "Will the baby be taken before Scully herself knows?" dose of climax anxiety.)

But does this theory hold up under closer scrutiny?

We know Scully is shown the sex in Per Manum, but that is revealed to be a false result intended to deceive her. There was so much confusion afterward about real babies and alien babies that it was a mess to sort through; and Scully switched doctors, regardless, to ensure her safety.

She likely didn’t want to know anything more after this point, refusing to acknowledge that something might be wrong. This is in line with many, many other examples of her almost blind avoidance when confronted with a truth she doesn't want to face.

When Mulder mentions the connections to Parenti’s clinic in Essence, she tries to shut the conversation down; and when he replies, "That's-that's all I'm trying to do. Just make sure nothing happens to you; that this baby you're carrying is born without any surprises”, she stares him down angrily-- further proof Scully won't entertain these thoughts willingly.

“What we feared were the possibilities,” Mulder confirms in Existence: Scully had those fears, too. Avoiding the sex would be a way to put her fingers in her ears and experience a “normal”, profoundly uninteresting last two trimesters-- “Didn't you have to wait with us?” she tells Maggie. 

An that brings me to another interesting note: her behavior is not dissimilar to Bill Scully setting up shop in an exact replica of his childhood home, trying to copy and paste those traditions for his own family-- which included decorating the nursery in his sisters’ “old” room. In other words: he was recreating Melissa’s past (their past) without referring to her death, just as Scully is escaping fearful possibilities by recreating a the ignorance of the nostalgic past. “You keep things so bottled up,” Maggie worries (post here); and she is deadly accurate. 

Back at Scully’s apartment [x] days later, Mulder arrives; and, for the first time that we see in the series, opens her door with his own key (post here.) 

This is incredibly significant. It cannot be overstated. Scully’s own mother hired a baby nurse to assist her daughter because Scully’s privacy is so finely tuned that Maggie knew she wouldn’t want guests over. Mulder himself only ever dropped in after a knock at the door, even after his resurrection. And, although he had things of his at her place (in all things, @unremarkablehouse and @touchstoneaf's post here) and she had things at his (in Orison, post here), the two hadn’t solidified their cohabitation. Until now, when he waltzes in, greets her guests comfortably, and strolls in to meet and hold his son. And Scully looks up, smiles blissfully, and hands their child over. 

Mulder is enamored, is in awe of his baby; and that look of bliss and wonder is everything Scully could have hoped for.

“William,” she names, after Mulder's father-- a man who bucked the Consortium as much as he could (post here), who gave up and gave in (post here), and who decided, of his own freewill, to own up to his mistakes at the last (post here.)

In short: a shot at Fate. 

After laughing at her partner's shot at Skinner, Scully questions, "I don't understand, Mulder-- they came to take him from us-- why they didn't."

“I don't quite understand that, either. Except that maybe he isn't what they thought he was.” Another shot at Fate. “That doesn't make him any less of a miracle, though, does it?” A third shot at Fate. 

Encouraged, she smiles. It slips as she admits, "When I became pregnant, I feared the truth." More evidence of her head sticking firmly in the sand. "About how. And why. And I know that you feared it, too."

Mulder has an answer already-- he's given this thought since William's birth. "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know."

“Which is what?” she asks; and he leans forward and shows her: the final blow. 

Fate is soundly defeated: Mulder, the boy who lost his sister, who set aside a life to find the Truth, has found happiness away from it-- has chosen his own truth. Scully, the woman who chose then doubted her choices, has obtained peace-- has chosen to leave the files after finding her truths, too.

Not only is this ending the culmination of their journey to parenthood, but it also resolves their character arcs: life on this planet, something resembling a normal life, and a manifestation of a bond and willpower stronger than death. 

Last but not least, it also encapsulates the journey’s of each of their family’s legacy-- and on a more personal level, the culmination of their sister’s legacies: Samantha Mulder’s gifted closure (post here) and Melissa Scully’s intuitive guidance (posts here, here, here, and here.)

(But what if William had been inexplicably magical? What if he had had alien powers; or was a creation for and fulfillment of higher purposes? What if he was, in short, the key to everything? 

Then Fate would have won the debate: William was the key to everything; and would be hunted down or chased until evil is defeated, or he saves the world. As Mulder and Scully conclude in The Truth's ending speech:

“I want to believe… that if we listen to what’s speaking, they can give us the power to save ourselves.”

“Then we believe the same thing.” 

In other words, Fate is predetermined; and humanity will be destroyed if they don't listen to and heed its warnings and thunderings. Which would effectively destroy eight years of build-up and resolution: Fate as a tempered option, Freewill as a vehicle for growth and change, Conscience as the deciding factor. It would destroy Mulder and Scully's individual and mutual arcs, their son's conception and birth, their sisters' losses and legacies, their families' virtues and faults, failures and victories. In short: it would be a complete mess.)

CONCLUSION

And that brings us to the conclusion of the Scully Family In-Depth series! 

Thanks for reading!

Enjoy~

[postsforposting]

broomsticks

there's a wedding tradition where the couple jumps over a broom

socially it was said to be an invalid marriage, something people who elope do. but that's not true. it was a derogatory term, mostly for people who couldn't legally get married. it is also a valid wedding custom in many cultures, where "jumping the broom" is an idiom for getting married.

thus, whether it's valid to witnesses....depends on who you ask and who's involved.

here are wolvie and wade running away, jumping towards a golden ring

a broom is a bundle of sticks

a bundle of sticks is called a faggot

these are four queer faggots they're jumping over, witnessed by the omega herself

biblically, four is the tetragrammaton, the letters representing the name of god. these faggots are disney's token representation.

four also represents creation, completeness, divine order, stability: all good things to found a marriage. in strong's concord, it means "not burdensome", conveying the idea of being considerate and gentle, avoiding placing unnecessary demands or hardships on others: a frowned upon elopement, a marriage that shouldn't have been considered offensive in the first place.

a fag is also a cigarette which is an....

out of your league smoke show. a femme gender blind fatale.

so, my fellow witnesses: are the curtains blue? do you object to this marriage? do you part what god herself has joined together?

[spicedwatermel0n]

Teen designs references "update", just making the standstills nicer and improving on some stuff

Nigel: very quiet, but will talk occasionally. He has a reputation in the school as the honor role kid, and is loved among the teachers. However, he despises most of them in return. Despite his ability to pull straight As and never get in trouble, he only does it because he's supposed to be undercover. There's a few teachers he likes, and they're the ones who've openly defended innocent kids or expressed disgust towards bad treatment of children. Otherwise, he hates each and every one of them. Many rumors surround him and who he is. Some suspect he's partially deaf in his missing ear (the one on the same side as the missing eye), as he often fails to respond to people. This is completely false. He does this because he doesn't want to speak to anyone. He does, however, have severe vision problems. In his only eye, he suffers from glaucoma-like vision loss. This makes him prone to bumping into objects/people, but everyone does their best to respect him and let it go because of his muscular build.

Kuki: a social butterfly, as she was as a child. She never grew out of acting youthful. Similarly to Nigel, she really doesn't like the people around her. She tries to fit in for her own safety, as she's currently flying under the radar as a cishet girl and anything getting out could be dangerous for her + cause her to be dead named forcefully. She fits in well with the popular girls, and it gives her an excuse to dress up nicely and use make-up. Her classes are pretty average. She's not the greatest, but she isn't close to failing. She is hardly noticed by the teachers.

Abby: a geek. She doesn't hang out around anyone besides Nigel. She's often bullied for various reasons, but the number one reason is her being too complex to fit in with any one particular group or cliche. She's complex in a way that people find odd, which leads to her getting bullied. She's quiet, but simply because she doesn't feel the need to say anything unless she's spoken to first. Nigel's presence tends to keep people from bullying her, since everyone is terrified of Nigel. She'll try to find him whenever she can so she can avoid harassment and have some company. She's in a lot of clubs and does great work for the school as a part of a KND supported program meant to make education easier, run by some teachers who happen to be apart of the AND in secret. The teachers have no problems with Abby, since she's clearly intelligent and has no problem learning, and she tends to give them space when they aren't teaching her as to respect them.

THE NEXT TWO PARAGRAPHS WILL GET INTO SOME HEAVY TOPICS LIKE SELF HARM, SUICIDE, ABUSE, BULLYING, BIGOTRY, DRUGS, AND UNDERAGED ALCOHOLISM. I DO NOT SUPPORT THEIR ACTIONS, THIS IS MEANT TO PORTRAY THE EVENT OF CHILDHOOD TRAUMA CAUSING A PERSON TO BECOME MORALLY GREY.

Hoagie: a hardcore drug addict, and a well known dealer. He drowns out his sorrows with stolen alcoholic beverages, and cuts for his own self deprecating pleasure. He tends to go into a state of perpetual agony when intoxicated, but thankfully doesn't experience any violent emotions. He lacks consideration for anyone who may see him in this state, and will become intoxicated in front of those who care for him enough times to be a problem. Aside from experiencing abuse at home, he is also beaten up frequently at school. His impressive height doesn't intimidate the people who corner him into empty rooms and beat him enough for him to be marked absent from his next class. These beatings are usually motivated by homophobia, as his identity as gay was spread all across the school in his early years. He has horrible grades in his classes, and his teachers despise him. This is further solidified by his engagement in delinquency, such as vandalizing rooms in the school, busting objects, and getting into verbal fights with staff. Despite seeming like he enjoys his lifestyle of illegal substances and actions on the outside, he is well aware of his own decline and has attempted numerous times. He feels like he can do nothing but watch as he turns into the exact opposite of the person he wanted to be growing up. Additional note: he has a beaten pickup truck that he drives frequently, especially with being the only one to own his own vehicle. It was gifted to him by his mother, who had been paying for the old pickup (once owned by Gilligan Sr) just long enough to lend it over to Hoagie.

Wally: also a hardcore drug addict, but not a dealer himself. He frequents delinquency acts more than Hoagie does, and finds amusement in going out at dusk to steal, destroy property, and spray paint on the property of consumer locations. He's more into the drugs than the alcohol, which he gets at a discounted price from Hoagie. He tends to follow shortly behind Hoagie, no matter where he goes. His identity as transgender is forced to be disrespected by the staff, and he is not allowed to wear anything gender affirming. He often attempts to get into physical fights with staff for misgendering him on bad days. He's rarely in class, and when he is, he's clearly too high to be in attendance. Along with Hoagie, he is often assaulted by other students for homophobic/transphobic reasons. He is targeted more than Hoagie is due to his size, and that Wally has simply given up with fighting back. Despite immense strength, Wally is so weak from his habits that he couldn't do much of what he normally could, even if he wanted to. His open ideations and desires for death are what makes him want to stand there and take it, rather than defend himself. Wally is known for lashing out at people, and sometimes hurting himself in front of others if he gets angry enough. He will bite into his own arm and tear the flesh off, albeit not much, due to his weakness from drug addiction. This is extremely problematic for the others and they try their best to keep away from Wally when he's not doing well, for his own safety, and for their sanity. He has needed multiple stitches after self harming himself due to him getting overwhelmed with emotions and carving himself like a piece of paper. The only thing keeping him from constantly idealizing is Hoagie's company. If anything is proof that they can recover from this horrible state and prevent themselves from turning into something that'll devastate society, it's the small flame that burns for each other's quiet embrace. On the calmer days, they'll cuddle each other underneath of "their tree" for hours, never speaking a word.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?

Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.

To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.

If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But… he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!

[perpetual-help]

To your first point, I mentioned hysterectomies to help you understand the difference between necessary, life saving medical interventions and what I meant by “butchering” a perfectly healthy body.

I am not against life-saving medical interventions for parts of the body that work incorrectly or not at all. I am against entertaining the delusions of people with body dysmorphia who want to remove parts of their body that are healthy and do work.

I also question the motives of doctors who support “gender affirming care.”

To your second point, I have personally seen what is meant by “thorough consultations” with psychiatrists for the approval of “gender affirming” surgery. I have a friend who unfortunately struggles with body dysmorphia. She had one video call with a psychiatrist; it was decided after that single call she was fit and eligible for surgery. (She has a history of family abuse and is also on the autism spectrum.)

I don’t find it shocking how easy it was for her, but she did. She was thrilled by it.

Which leads to the next point, the fact that all of this is a money grab for the medical professionals. I’m sad to see you think this is obvious and acceptable practice for medical professionals. At one time, concern for the patient’s health and well-being took priority. I would like to see a return to this attitude.

The study says society contributes, and I agree with this, especially in cases where people are unfortunately isolated, but trans people are predisposed to suicidal ideation - which leads them to act upon it when stressed. The fact of the matter is that trans people are mentally ill and they need treatment for their mental illness. They need care and compassion, of course, but they also need people who will help draw them back into reality - and focus on the underlying issues instead of profiting off of their delusions.

And to your last point, of course I think it’s worth consideration that such a large percentage of trans people are on the autism spectrum. Neurodivergent people, as you said yourself, are often not given space in society. They may be rejected or isolated, made to feel like they shouldn’t exist, which seems like the perfect breeding grounds for body/identity dysmorphia - the desire for them to be or become something else so that they can finally be accepted.

I stand by what I said - all of this should be considered and studied. And, until the underlying issues are addressed, I really don’t think we’re going to see an improvement in the lives of trans people.

Me @ every person who believes Trump and his supporters want them dead.

[5mcsinatrenchcoat]

a bit of emotional ramble on Harding's romance

There's something funny and endearing about playing the silliest damn Rook and see the romanced companion crushing on them.

But also there's something about it especially in Harding's romance. And only partially because Rook being a lovestruck fool is a big part of most of their scenes by default. ("Knew you couldn't resist my moves" oh my god, shut up indeed :D said affectionately.)

But like. I made my Rook purple silly (coping mechanisms yada-yada). And the amount of times she couldn't land a joke in a romance-related scene is truly something.

And Lace does look exasperated every time, but also... lovingly? Like, sure, Rook is a fool, and here she goes again joking, but that's her fool. (And Rook does make up for every joke with genuine support at the same time, so it never cheapens the interaction in any way).

And I am politely putting the rest under the cut because pictures are incoming.

And then like. I somehow made my Rook especially smiley in CC (is it a dwarf thing? are the eyebrows at fault? is it something else? idk but she looks noticeably more smiley at almost any given time than my other Rook or my friends' Rooks. In a silly way).

Like, look at her.

She just walked in and Emmrich told her to "stand over here, please". Doesn't know what's going on. Just happy to be there. Look at that goofy face.

And.

Uh-huh! She sees that goof and is fucking smitten instantly!

I don't know I just find it all so sweet and endearingly funny I'm gonna explode. Get yourself a woman who will groan at your jokes but also love them. She's the "Oh my god she's so stupid I can't believe I'm going to sleep with her. No, no, I'm gonna" meme in the best way.

And the best part is all that kinda pays off?

After returning from the [that one spoiler place] and while having the romance scene in Rook's room I, after some consideration, had Rook joke again. And holy shit that time it sounded. Defeated. Sorta self-deprecating. She barely finished the joke, looked at her feet, it was voiced and played off as SUCH a poor attempt at shielding behind the laughs.

And Harding gently shushes her. And Rook says okay.

(And also later. When they sit together. THAT'S when the purple options finally land and make her laugh. Two times in a row, in fact. Which could mean nothing)

I don't know where I'm going with this, this is not an analysis of any kind, I'm just rambling. There's something about the dynamic that gets me. The core is the same regardless of the tone - the support, the trust, the mutual "together" part. But this added layer just makes me so squishy about them.

(In case of my Rook it's also, accidentally, a mirror. She had very rough first 15-ish years of her life, and her "If I'm funny people will treat me better" is such a mirror to Lace's "If I agree with people they will like me".

And then they meet and get into all this bullshit together and get to see behind each other's masks in real time.)

[fortheloveofarchons]

The Harbinger and His Arranged Bride

(A Capitano x Reader fanfic)

Full chapter down below on the Ao3 link!!!

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.

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“Remember, it’s all for him. For them. For… yourself.” 

It should be an honour to be selected by one of the greatest harbingers, The Captain.

A recognition. 

A sense of gratitude that someone out there decided to choose someone like you. 

However... What made him feel proud? Why would one of the most powerful Fatui Harbingers in Snezhnaya, The Captain, would pick someone who lives outside that frozen realm? 

He had never come across someone like you, so how could he be pleased about choosing you?

Nevertheless, arranged marriages usually come about as a result of elders' obligations or business.

“Mama? Is it true?” 

“...Yes, it is.” Your mama’s words ring in your ears, which serves to further unsettle your stomach. “Out of all the beautiful maidens in Snezhnaya, he has chosen you.” 

“But… I’m from Sumeru.” The sunlight from your window kisses your dark tawny skin, as sweet as chocolate and as solid as oak. “Why would he choose someone like me? I don’t even know if he has ever been to Sumeru before.” 

“Perhaps it's due to after everything The Doctor, Dottore, did to damage the Akademiya’s reputation and harming the livelihood of our people.” Your mama folds her clothes on the floor, tucking the sari neatly to ensure that there aren't any wrinkles. “Aside from rebuilding a part of the Akademiya and importing new goods to Sumeru, marrying someone from this land would be some kind of a peace offering. As odd as it is, think of it as a trade tactic.” 

“So I’m just some scapegoat to them?” You fold your arms. “Figures, it’s always been that way.” 

“Now, now. Don’t be like that.” Your mama finishes folding all of the clothes. “I know it seems scary to you, but I assure you that you are in good hands. The Captain, arguably, is much better than half of the Fatui Harbingers.” 

“And how would you know that, pray tell.” 

“Well,” Your mama turned her head around to face the wall. “Your father and I have met him before. A meal, actually.” 

“You’ve met him?!” You immediately sit down next to your mama, taking her arms to inspect them. “Are you both okay? Are you hurt? Is baba hurt? Did he do anything? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Would you stop that!!” Your mama slaps your hands. “Of course we are okay. If we’re not okay do you think I will be sitting here talking to you so nonchalantly, ah?” 

“...What’s he like?” Your eyes subconsciously twinkle from curiosity. 

“He’s quite a gentleman. A polite, yet strong man.” Your mama couldn’t help but chuckle at the past memory. “At first, we were both hesitant to meet him when he sent in a letter of arrangement, but after meeting him all of our expectations were demolished. Though, I wish he would have worn something lighter and… less darker. Knowing how humid it is everyday, I’m surprised he didn’t break a sweat. Just watching him wearing that large coat made your baba sweat. Plus, black is bad. It's bad luck, after all!” 

“What do you mean by ‘expectations were demolished’?” You curl the two fingers at your hand, making air quotes. “What did you even expect from him? And what did he do to demolish them?” 

“Admittedly, we expected him to be more brute and intimidating.” 

“And then…” 

“When we meet him for the first time, he is exactly brute and intimidating.” 

You throw your hands in the air, exasperated by your mama’s audacity. “Oh come on! What’s even the point of–” 

“But,” Her words cut you off. “The Captain is also very direct and straightforward with his intentions. He was also very considerate and polite too, he told us that should we ever need anything we could just write to him, and that he will take good care of you under his arms. Plus, he told me that a wonderful mother like me has raised you very well~ He certainly is knightly~”

“Mama…” Disgust danced in your eyes in silent judgement. “You’re married.” 

“Ah, an old woman like me can still dream~” She playfully smacks your arm. 

“Still… Do I really have to go? I guess if I refuse this, he’ll kill us?” 

“About that, now that’s what surprised us.” Your mama explains. “He told us that it’s okay for you to reject the offer, and that there won’t be any consequences for it. Although he chose you out of anyone else, he said he’d understand if you refuse.” 

“Wait… what? Really?” 

“ Meree jaan, ” Her hands on your cheeks feel warm. “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I can tell that he really cares about you. If he didn’t care, he would’ve just swooped you away before you could ever see your home again. The Captain… is much better than all of the people that you have dated before. I’m sure that he will make your life much more contentful than before.” 

“Mama…” 

“Yes, sweetie?”

Like a vinyl player being halted to a pause while rolling the music, the moment between you and your mama dissipates. 

“How much did The Captain offer you?” 

~~~~~~

“That… was a lot of money.” The pride that had reverberated in your baba’s voice when he told you the amount of mora that The Captain sent nearly made you spin. Though, it doesn’t really unsettle your stomach. It made your parents happy, after all. 

“ I��ll miss you.” You mutter. “I’ll miss home.”

Her kiss on your forehead reassures you a response. 

It’ll all be okay.

A stuttering breath slips past your lips as your eyes drop to the ground. 

Looking outside from the plain looking carriage, where the trees and grass were kissed white, and rivers run beneath deep set icy. The more you look at this scenic view, the more they remind you of those landscape paintings from the cover of the old puzzle boxes.

You notice that your entrance to Snezhnaya has been… very quiet. You can only assume that The Captain, despite his status, wasn’t much for personal fanfare, understandably so. 

At least you are betrothed to someone who values privacy. Your heart makes excuses for him. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

No ostentatious carriages or trumpets announcing your arrival.

No people swarming in to ask you many nosy and invasive questions. 

No sight of him… for now. 

You are surprised that despite The Captain's good reputation, there is little interest in his affairs from others. Perhaps the people of Snezhnaya know better than to pry in confidential knightly affairs, or perhaps they were scared upon being found out snooping into his business. 

“I guess someone like him would rather be covert than flaunt like a peacock...” 

After slipping and bouncing the carriage against the freezing streets, you stumble out of the carriage like a ball hurled from a tin cup. Upon your arrival, you are greeted by a couple maids and butlers who lead you inside his private estate that’s east of the palace’s direction. You didn't even have time to take in the cold wind and what his estate even looks. They rush you in his estate, voices from both sides drowning out your thoughts. 

"Please, allow me to help you with your attire. Goodness, it's soaked with melted snow."

"Remember, do not stroll out at night. It is unwise to do so." 

"Make sure to take all of your meals when the servants send it in your room."

"Your wedding dress is already prepared, we'll send it out to you the day before your married day." 

...Perhaps, in your baba’s words, The Captain wanted you happy and well.

~~~~~~

Days passed by, and the most you’ve ever done is being kept inside his estate. You were left alone in your own private quarters of the estate, windows sealed shut so the wind can't intrude and that you couldn’t escape. 

Every day, when the clocks struck at nine, two, and six, food would be brought in by the maids, all in perfect portions on plates and bowls. Though lacking in spice and herbs, the flavours were adequate and delicious enough for you to ask for seconds. 

Gifts were brought in too: Exquisite jewelled gowns made by the finest tailors in Snezhnaya, fresh and luscious bouquets grown from Mondstadt, sweet, flowery perfumes being concocted in Fontaine, vials of cream and soaps and herbs from Liyue, all anticipating for your acceptance. 

You accept them, of course. Though partially overwhelmed by such luxury being handed to you casually, you can’t say no to free stuff. 

When night falls, you’d lay in a giant bed, with white sheets like the colour of snow and a red velvet lace canopy. At first, you couldn’t sleep, petrified that The Captain would barge in the dark and rest his body on you. But thankfully he didn’t come, though your heart tinges with a bit of disappointment from the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to come and visit you before the big day. 

Apparently, from what you overhear from the butlers, The Captain is still on an expedition in Dragonspine so he won’t be able to return to his estate until a week later. Then again, you’ve also heard that he doesn’t stay in his estate much, other than to rest and rejuvenate from his missions. 

“Excuse me,” The intrusion of a soft voice broke your train of thought about him. You flinch slightly, your heart leaping at the thought of being found lost in your thoughts despite that it isn't a crime to do so. The doors to your private quarters had opened, and in the space between them, stood a smaller lady in a maid uniform. She gazes at you with a rather curious expression, and you can’t help but avert your eyes to the window. 

“Apologies,” You turn back to find the maid’s cheeks burning with embarrassment. “My Lady, I– this maid is wondering why you aren’t in bed yet. The other maids could see light leaking out of your room…” 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t sleep well.” You shake your head in response. “If… If it’s possible– Could I go out for a walk?” 

“Tonight?” You could tell she’s hesitating from the way she clenches her dress. “But it's a bit late…” 

“I will be outside for just a moment. And I’ll be back in here.” You reply bluntly, with only a little room for bargains. “I promise.” 

You assume that your request, something as simple as a walk within the estate grounds, would be rejected. But the maid turns her head left and right, and then speaks in a hushed tone. 

“If someone else found you, please don’t tell them that I allowed it.” 

Happiness swells in your heart hearing her words. 

“Thank you so much!” 

~~~~~~

“It’s really cold…” Even with the heavy, dark blue coat that was gifted to you, it still doesn’t change Snezhnaya’s temperature. Still, you were surprised at how long these coats are, as it reaches down to your ankles. 

And how heavy it is… since it’s made from thick wool. You hypothesised that this coat is lined with fox fur, a touch of luxury for sure. 

You thought that winter would be pretty like those fairytale books that you read as a kid, but perhaps looking at it at night feels… different. 

Outside of the estate’s garden, or if you’d even call it a garden– The winter trees shiver in bitter wind, naked branches adorned with snow. The clusters of twigs, gnarled and twisted, extend like the hands of a writhing old man. 

You snug your head in between the high collar that is trimmed with fur, exhaling mists out of your plump lips. 

When is he coming back? 

Is he… really a good partner for me? 

Thoughts swirl in your mind, and all you could do was to shake your head in resignation. 

Sitting on the bench, you fiddle with your gloved fingers. Your heart is already content with the idea of a loveless marriage. As long as he doesn’t cast permanent scars on your body or even ask you to conceive a child for him, that’s fine, right? 

…

What a bare minimum. 

“Mmmph–!!!” 

Just as you are about to head back, the sound of what sounded like a muffled scream made your blood run cold, and your body froze. 

“What the…”

As much as you know the best decision is to immediately run away and hide in your private quarters, you know that whatever it is… will haunt you in your sleep if you don’t satiate your curiosity. 

The crisp winter air bites at your cheeks as you carefully crouch and tiptoe through the snow-laden garden, the soft crunch beneath your boots muffled by the thick, frost-covered ground. Your eyes flicker to the ground and to the scene of the moment, trying your best to avoid the crunch of broken twigs or frozen leaves that might give you away.

As you slowly round a frozen fountain, your eyes catch a faith glint of steel ahead. 

“Is that…” 

[therealsaintscully]

Thank you for the tag, lovely @crepesuzette2023! It's been nice to take some time to think about my fics!

How many works do you have on ao3?

20; 18 are Johnlock (BBC) and two, the most recent ones, are mclennon.

What’s your total word count?

306,378 (I was stunned to see this, I had no idea).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All are Johnlock: Mark Your Calendars, my beloved Erosion, Detours, Plus One and Turned - Part I : Queen and Country.

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to be very good about it and respond as often as I can, but the truth is I'm a bit of an emotional wreck so when there's a rush of comments I get overwhelmed and over emotional about them, and tend to put it off for a while. I read them ALL, and I often go back and re-read them.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I had to refresh my memory but it's def Every Other Universe ("What if in every other universe John Watson leaves?"). It's one of my very earliest ones and I cringe a little reading it, but it's a very neat idea. Gretna Green Waltz, a mclennon fic, is very devastating if I may say so myself, and was written as such knowingly. It only reflects reality, though, and that's just as devastating.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think Mark Your Calendars has the happiest ending, judging by the numbers of kudos, but for me as the writer, the cosiest, most joy-bringing ending was that of Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name).

Do you write crossovers?

The sadly abandoned Turned series is a crossover with Homeland.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, but some less-than-considerate "when's the next chapter???" comments. I don't bother with them.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I do :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I remember being asked, but I'm not sure what happened with it! Some of my fics got podficced, though: Mark Your Calendars is available as podfic, and so is I Have not Lingered (thanks to the lovely @helloliriels)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I'm so neurotic and particular I don't think I'm cut out for that.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully are DEFINITELY the mothership and always will be. I still sigh about them in a special, exasperated way about three times a week. I'm still here with Johnlock of course, but I'm pretty sure mclennon has been in the back of my mind for decades, but I was too haunted by other ships to fall down that rabbit hole. Look at me, though, here I am.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Turned, very sadly. So much so that I've considered taking it off AO3 but I'm so proud of what I did achieve with it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think my best writing moments are the ones that hook unto my real, personal experiences, not just a general idea of life situations. Erosion is based on my own personal grief and family losses, and Gretna Green Waltz is a retelling of my biggest heartache. I have noticed readers can tell when you're really putting your heart into a story.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English isn't my first language, which means I have to rely on betas which for me sadly slows me down - I want to be able to just write them and post them otherwise I overthink. I'm also a screenwriter irl, and I noticed a pattern that is another weakness - I always have banger openings, or first acts to my stories/screenplays, but sometimes I don't know the ending and I get lost and hesitant. That's why Gretna Green Waltz was SUCH a surprise - much like Junk, the song that haunts Paul throughout the fic, came to him in one piece, GGW landed in my head as a full story. I wrote it in TWO WEEKS! That NEVER happened before!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It really depends on how it's done. If it's 2-3 sentences and they're simple I assume the readers will Google Translate it. Jinglebell stands out as someone who did it really well in multi-chapter fic that's all about Sherlock discovering that John is a polyglot, so it can be done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock (for which I started writing during covid in 2020), although as a reader it was TXF, back in in 90s and early 2000s.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

The X-Files. I've had a Scully character study in my head for years that I just can't get right.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

With Johnlock it would have to be the now-abandoned Turned, and mclennon it would be Gretna Green Waltz. I am very proud of both.

Tagging @menlove, @discordantwords, @saint-mona, @totallysilvergirl @m1ssunderstanding @slippinmickeys @kettykika78 @agrlsname @arwamachine @calaisreno @aggressivewhenstartled and anyone who sees this who wants to participate :)

[itwdoris]

I'm a gamer and sometimes the game goes on for so long that you just can't go to the bathroom and all I can think about recently is yuji being your under desk support and being your personal toilet IM GOING CRAZY YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND

itadori yuuji x afab reader.

author notes; all characters are aged up.

tw; piss drinking, not revised.

★

you just needed to stay there a little longer to break another record, with your eyes glazed over the colorful screen and a controller in your hand being guided with quick gestures, a headset to keep out any noise from outside the game and a small bottle of water on the table.

the same one that once belonged to your boyfriend; yuuji, and that has held a lot of your piss when you couldn't be away, even if you don't tell anyone about this part. it was already too "complicated" and embarrassing.

just like that moment, where you scream as quietly as you can while frantically pressing the buttons, because itadori was right there in your bed and you no longer knew if he was asleep or not. sometimes he was in the middle, anyway, you just didn't want him to be far away.

and you had drunk almost the entire bottle and your bladder was begging for redemption, your legs were restless and so were you until you found a better position to hold on just a little longer, even if it wouldn't do any good. you ended up having to kill yourself in the game just to get time to position yourself well and maybe use the bottle.

with just a few seconds to think about it; even though the screen shows you that it would take a considerable amount of time to paste until you came back. you didn't need to tell any of your colleagues that you were currently raising your knees and putting your feet up on the chair, open legs, a small wet spot being revealed on the panties you were wearing under the itadori's big blouse.

holding back a few sighs as you reached out to grab the bottle from the table, at least until noticed a figure with your peripheral vision, not needing to turn around to discover that it was him who was coming to hug you as tightly as he could. needy needy, as always when he wake up.

he stood over you and mumbled some incomprehensible things, burying his face in your neck to smell and kiss your skin, rising almost slowly in a wet and needy trail of kisses and smells to your mouth, which he almost devoured, even though he was still drowsy.

you sighed softly, trying to hold on for just a second longer, squeezing the bottle as you moved your legs slightly. "y-yuuji-" he held your knees as if to stop you from moving, because he had now noticed your position, and soon his hand went to your panties.

with thick, slow fingers sliding down until he found the wet spot on the fabric, his eyes opened curiously to you, who could only feel your face getting hotter and hotter. but somehow, itadori's mind began to work in some questionable ways, looking at the almost empty bottle of water in your hand, feeling something too wet on your panties, too ashamed face.

so he turned away for a few seconds only to yawn and bend down to get under the desk, approaching you to get very, very close, between your legs, placing his hands on your hips to pull down your panties and give him more space.

you couldn't quite work out what he was doing or what was going on, but it seemed to be quite clear when a moan came from your lips as he opened your folds and left a kiss, fitting his mouth on you, looking at you as if he expected something.

because he was. and with the computer screen counting down for you to start again, yuuji ran his soft, wet tongue over your folds, repeatedly stroking your urethra with the tip, the bottle in hand but useless at that point...

that's how you discovered things.

"yuuji!!" you whimpered softly with your hand covering the microphone of the headset you were wearing, without having to look very far to see the pink-haired man coming at you quickly, getting under the desk to do the job. "please.."

and you didn't even wear your fucking panties anymore, because you drank so much water and every time you had to pee, it was very difficult to have to take it off every time so that he could help you while you keep playing and breaking your records.

ah, he really was the best boyfriend, wasn't he? being the best urinal for you.

and oh, itadori loved to feel the warm liquid filling his mouth, going down his throat as he heard your sighs of relief at finally emptying your bladder, small drops turning into a weak stream and then into an almost endless flow.

love how you hold his hair when you're holding it for a long time, how you bite your lips and your cheeks turn red, still concentrated on the game.

pressing your bladder just to hear you moan and make the piss spurt into his mouth, swallowing every drop with pleasure because he loves it, you can hear him gulping, to see how his eyes look at you so pleased that he's being useful, that he's being good to you, making you look so pretty that his semi-hard cock throbs inside his boxers wanting attention, maybe wanting you to get him wet too.

the flow comes to a close and inevitable end, making you sigh and lean back in your chair as ends the game in victory, but he continues his work, cleaning your folds with his tongue, leaving wet kisses on it before turning away a bit.

"you won?" yuuji asked with a grin when he noticed the lightly bluish light on your face, wet lips and chin dripping a little.

oh i miss you guys so much!! i saw this yesterday and i just wanted to do it, think its a bit rushed and kinda meh cause i had to stop several times during the process, but yeah, hope you like it! <3

i loved this prompt sm, bc hes so cute, like waa the best urinal!! IM GOIBG CRAZY TOO