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aheathen-conceivably · 2 months

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Dearest Zelda,

First let me say what a joy it was to receive your latest letter! Truly I was so delighted upon seeing it in the mailbox that I ran straight for Isaiah. He is not one to worry, but when our latest contact to the address we had for you in New Orleans once again went unanswered, I fear even he had begun to grow concerned.

I am delighted to read that your silence was not without good reason, and to see the wedding portrait you sent of you and Antoine as well as the photo of your daughter. How she has grown since we last saw her! She is not much younger than our eldest now, who I fear every day is so like your brother there is simply no one thing in this world that can tame her.

It does sound like your Violette is much the same, and how much joy it brings me to think that perhaps it is Florence’s spirit manifesting through them.

Our youngest have also begun to grow like weeds, much to my chagrin. Does it ever seem like sometimes you awaken and it’s as though the grass has grown a foot overnight? That is oft how I feel looking at them, and Rosalie seems to desire all the independence of her namesake.

She wasn’t but a day over six when she began poking into Rosella’s old room, curiously pulling forth toys and books from the gathered dust like a miniature treasure hunter. Truthfully, I could not tell you why your brother and I had yet to bring the room back into the light of day. Once you took the portrait from it it was like a pall had lifted, but I feared that stirring it would upset your brother’s long-standing grief over your mother, so I daren’t say a word.

But as children often do, Rosalie saw little of that other than a space to call her own, and we have now finally found the heart through her to give it a new life. I do hope your sister would love to see her in there, playing dolls and writing grand romantic stories for them aloud to her ever attentive twin. It is a joy to see them rediscover the beauty in the world that pain often hides, is it not?

Have you written to Virginia as well? I fear she may not be quite as conscious of the time that has gone by. With the dissolution of The Women’s Political and Social Union, her work has turned increasingly to involvement with the Women’s Labor League, eventually coming to the attention of the Labor Party themselves.

I will admit that I am not as informed on the goings on of London as I perhaps should be, but even still it came as no surprise when the party nominated her as their candidate for Member of Parliament. As she so painstakingly explained it, the party itself has suffered great losses from their prominence in the 20s, what with the general bias of their associations with the communists and their seeming inability to stop the rampant unemployment that has taken hold even here.

I suppose she is fully aware that this was the cause for her nomination, as she was able to run more on the merit of her charitable associations than the negative reputation the party has recently taken on. Yet if she was surprised that this platform worked, she has never let on; but her work in the House of Commons has all but taken over her life since her election in 1931. How I do miss her and Wally, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing that she keeps her seat in the upcoming election of ‘35, even if it means we will see less of them than ever.

I imagine that what little free time she has is now spent nearby at Oxford, where Wally was accepted upon his graduation from secondary school. While I’m sure being the son of a governing member of parliament was not a mark against him, I have no doubt he was accepted there on the merits of his intelligence alone. Even from the small amount of time he spent here in his teen years, it was clear to me what a bright boy he was.

I am told he is majoring in physics there, a field that even in the briefest explanations Virginia has given me is quite beyond my comprehension. I suppose what else are we to expect with Virginia as his mother? I’m sure he’s had but the most informative, intellectual upbringing, even when it must have been colored by the high expectations that I can only imagine your sister set for him.

Despite her near constant work and best attempts to shield her vulnerability, there are moments when we speak and it seems as though Wally's departure brought forth much of the buried sentimentality within her. I suppose under it all she is but a mother like us all, proud of her child and yet sorrowful as his life grows beyond her own.

Before I sign off your brother has instructed me to ask you to include the most minute of details regarding your predicaments with the soil in your next letter. He has also asked me to attach a veritable field guide of advice, although I have told him that everything you have written points to the fact that you are in waters we could not navigate any better even if we tried.

I must admit that when I hear the word soil I think simply of the ground beneath verdant green grasses or darkened Bramblewood canopies. It makes me realize just how little of the world I have seen, but also how lucky we have been even in the throes of what seem to be such tumultuous times. I can only hope that such good fortune will last in England for many years to come, and that some of our knowledge may bring success to your efforts as well.

I must once again thank you for the photo of you and Antoine on your wedding day. We’ve placed it in our living room next to the photo of your mother and father when they were wed, as seems only right. In return I have also included a photo of all of us when we were last together to visit Wally’s new home in Oxford; although I’ll be the first to admit I do hope we spend the next high holiday together in Henford instead. Anything that close to London makes me long for the forest more than anything else.

Your mother once told me that she sent you every photo we took, and that you have been collecting them over the years. I hope this can make a welcome addition to such a tradition, and do always know that you are welcome here should you ever find need of solace in the place you once called home.

Your sister in marriage,

Summer Darlington

#1933 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #summer darlington #Isaiah darlington #Annabelle darlington #Virginia darlington #Wally Webber #1930s

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thedeviltohisangel · 1 month

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All The Things I Did (Interlude): My Little Bunnies

a/n: happy belated easter to all those who celebrate! i wanted to write john & cass' first easter as parents and it became a 10 page fic with smut/fluff/angst. read on to meet their twins, meet cass' parents, learn more about her family history and so much more. and to the anon who sent an ask about them getting a bloodhound, yes. he is here. this was a real labor of love but it is my gift to you. i hope you all love it and please come let me know your thoughts on this little family. xoxo

warnings: smut

When Cass was quiet, it meant she was thinking. And since they had left the driveway of their beach house, she had been quiet. A notebook in one hand and a pen and leash in the other, John thinks she was attempting to memorize her to-do list for Easter Sunday.

“You know part of the reason I was convinced into coming here this weekend was your insistence on family walks,” he looked down at the two little bundles that were already gazing right back at him, “tell Mama she can relax for one night.”

“I’ll relax after everything goes off without a hitch tomorrow. It’s their first Easter and our first time hosting a holiday and the first time my family is seeing the house and-” She paused as Gale let out a sound of discomfort and started to squirm in the carriage, Cass quickly reaching down and smoothing a finger over his cheek with a coo. He quieted just as quickly at her touch and blinked up at her sleepily. “There, there my sweet boy. I’m right here.” Not for the first time, and not for the last time, John was endlessly amazed by his wife. How she managed to be a mother, a wife and still impress the brass in DC was beyond his comprehension. He hadn’t known it was possible to fall more in love with her and here he was. Falling in love with her more and more everyday.

“We Egan boys get cranky when you aren’t around to dote on us.”

“Is that so? Do you agree with that, Butter?” The bloodhound gave a gentle bark in answer which John took as his agreement. “Well, Miss Penelope does have a habit of looking at every plane in the sky while she waits for you to come home.” He grinned so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“That’s my little lamb,” he said with a gentle tickle to the top of her tummy, her giggles making her parents laugh right along with her. “And what about you? What do you do all day while you wait for me to come home?”

“Oh, I just stare longingly out the window because the thought of you not being around paralyzes me, Lieutenant Colonel Egan.” Cass held her hand to her forehead and feigned hysteria.

“I guess it is kind of beautiful here,” John relented as their walk took them to the beach. The waves were crashing against the sand as the sunset laid a pink backdrop to the view. He lifted his arm and Cass fell into his side with ease.

“I told you so,” she murmured against his chest. Cass had loved growing up on her family’s estate outside of Charleston. She had learned more about life running around that land than she ever had anywhere else. But every summer her mother would take her and siblings for Kiawah Island, where her father would join on occasion, and she would roam free on the sand and in the sun. There were no boys trying to dance with her and her mother didn’t yell at her for being barefoot and she was able to laugh loud and run fast and there were no consequences. “You see that gray house with the white balconies a few hundred yards that way?” She pointed in the general direction and John shaded his eyes to look.

“That’s not a house, Cass, that’s a mansion.”

“That’s my parents house. My dad built it for my mom when I was little,” she said sheepishly. When she had been old enough to truly understand love and relationships, she had thought it was the most romantic thing. Had seen how happy it made her father to provide for her mother. How happy it made her mother that it was hers and only hers and almost a monument to the life they created together. “Since then, I’ve always wanted to raise my own family here.” John watched her caress the cheeks of their sleeping children with a smile.

“All I ever want, Cass, is for you and Gale and Penelope to be happy and safe. Nothing else matters to me.” The white house that was surrounded by trees on one side and the beach on the other had been a dream of Cass’ for a long time. She had told him about it back at Thorpe Abbotts and he had dreamed about it in his bunk on those cold German nights. Dreamed about buying it for her and carrying her over the threshold and filling it with their love and the pitter patter of little feet.

“Lucky for you, that’s all I want, too. And maybe some more kisses.”

“You’re saying I don’t kiss you enough?” he asked with raised eyebrows. She shook her head.

“Not nearly enough.” John had worked overtime for months to set aside enough for the down payment. Had turned down her father’s offer to buy it as a wedding gift. He had wanted to get this for her, for his wife, all on his own. She was the reason he was alive. It was only a drop in the bucket for what he owed her.

“It’s talk like that that got us here in the first place,” he whispered with a nod towards the carriage. “You being a little kiss thief.” Butter whined with displeasure.

“He doesn’t like when you’re snarky to me.” Their chests were pressed together now, his nose bumping hers as he laughed. “You’re the one that spent his whole puppy life telling him he had to be my guard dog,” she added with a gentle poke to his chest. Cass had just sweet talked her way into convincing John that Butter was meant to come home with them, having found him in a horse stall at her family’s place, when he asked if she wanted to take a drive to the beach. She thought he meant somewhere close but as they drove past the turn for Folly she began to get an idea of where he was taking her. She remembers her heart sinking when SOLD was in big red letters on the sign. John had asked if she wanted to take a look around anyways. For old time’s sake.

“Yeah and when he successfully chased that crazy bird away from you last month you were very grateful for it.” He scratched behind the hounds ears for good measure.

“I was. Seagulls scare me, you know that.” Ever since one had snatched her lunch right out of her hands on the very beach they were looking at when she was still in pigtails. Cass had told him that story while they walked around the house. Her hands wistfully touching the floors and her smile at the scent of the water making it hard for John to keep the secret in. She had known back then she was pregnant, hadn’t found the right time to tell John yet and hadn’t known there were two baby Egans on their way, but had told him she hoped this house made a family happy. That they loved it the way she had as a little girl and didn’t change a thing. He had told her to close her eyes and hold out her hand. And she looked confused at the cool metal that he placed in her palm, understanding registering when she opened her eyes and saw it was a key.

What do you say we fill this house with our family, my love?

----

As it was most mornings, her nightgown was bunched around her waist as she gasped into John’s mouth. She was gently rotating her hips while his fingers gripped her hips tighter and tighter and his hips thrusted up into her slowly.

“Fuck, John,” she moaned as he sat up and kissed her roughly.

“You close, baby?” It was always a bit of a race to get there before the twins woke or before a housekeeper or nanny knocked on the door to get the day started. John wished he had all the time in the world every time but wouldn’t trade the moments he had with her for anything, no matter how quickly they went. “Look me in the eyes, my sweet girl.” His thumb found her clit between them and pressed until she threw her head back.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she panted as she knocked her forehead against his. John wouldn’t even dare to think to stop as she came undone around him and his own finish followed instantly. He fell back against the pillow, her lips on his the entire time, and stroked her cheek gently as he tried to regain control of his breathing. “Think they’ve got five more minutes in them so we can-” The sound of one baby crying pierced the tranquility followed in quick succession by the other.

“That’s a no,” he remarked with a smile. “They probably think if they cry loud enough, you won’t make them dress all fancy and go to church.”

“They are always perfectly well behaved at church.” Butter’s barking joined the cacophony and the bubble was fully burst. “If you let him out and start the coffee, I can change diapers and get their clothes out.” He gave her bottom a gentle pat as she begrudgingly let him slip out of her.

“Hey, Spook?” Cass turned from where she was slipping her underwear on. “I love you.” Unable to keep herself from blushing, she pecked him one last time before the craziness of the day settled in.

“Hey, John?” He hummed with delight as his nose rubbed against hers. “I love you, too.”

----

True to her word, the twins behaved like angels at their first Easter mass. Gale had only tried to kick his shoes off for a few minutes and Penelope had only required John to make silly faces through one hymn. Cass had rolled her eyes on their way out the door as her husband produced two stuffed bunnies from behind his back and tucked them between their fingers. She had reminded him they each had a whole basket of stuffed bunnies waiting to be opened by the fireplace and probably many more arriving as gifts later in the day. One more from their dad couldn’t hurt was all he had to say.

The house was near mayhem when they arrived back. Caterers had taken over the kitchen, their house manager Alice was leading a small army in pillow fluffing and men with white gloves were polishing glasses in the dining room. John was once again reminded how differently he and his wife had grown up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, Happy Easter, I hope you had a wonderful morning.” Alice reached for Cass’s purse and gloves, taking them before smiling at the sleeping twins who each had a head on one of their father’s shoulders. “I can have Joan take them off your hands, sir.”

“It’s quite alright, Alice, I think the three of us are going to find a cozy spot on the beach to keep out of my lovely wife’s way.”

“Perhaps someone could find them an umbrella and blanket and chair?” Cass inquired as she began to walk towards the kitchen, handing Alice her hat as well along the way. “How’s the ham looking? It smells wonderful.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll get the beach set up for them. And the ham should be ready to carve exactly as we scheduled dinner for.” John side stepped around a group carrying boxes down the hall. “That would be the two options for porcelain Mrs. Cooper sent for your consideration.”

“Porcelain?” John thought it was a simple family dinner. He didn’t think it would be such an affair when Cass broached him with the idea of hosting.

“Yes. And if I pick the wrong one then I will never hear the end of it.” She turned back to Alice. “I’ll need to see a complete place setting of each one.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have them get right on it.”

“What happened to you not wanting to be reduced to a housewife?” John asked as he walked towards the back door, Cass opening it for him and following him down the back steps and onto the sand.

“I just want everything to be perfect today. I’ll be back to the Spook you know and love as soon as this is over.”

“First, I love all of you, all the time. Second, I heard you talking to Alice and Joan about hiring more staff, that word is honestly beyond my comprehension, when we go back to Virginia.” Cass took Penelope from him and laid her gently on the shaded blanket that had been set up, her hand brushing over her curls and kissing her forehead gently.

“And? You don’t want the help?”

“I thought the two of us were getting by quite well on our own.”

“I can’t put off going back to work any longer and I want someone I know and trust with them during the day. And if Alice or Joan are watching them, then they need someone else to do the things they have been doing.” Sure her and John had figured out a rhythm. But eventually Cass needed to get back to doing the work she loved. Rediscover who she was just as Cass and not just as John’s wife or her children’s mother. “Besides, they aren’t watching them so I can go to tea or try on dresses. I need to get back in there. You know what they’ve been saying about Korea.”

“Is that what you’ve been worried about? It’s a few years from anything active, Cass, if anything at all.” She wasn’t used to the anxiety that coursed through her veins after she had the twins. Wasn’t used to feeling her chest so heavy when she thought about how hard this world was going to make it to protect them.

“Yes, but if I can even do one thing to help prevent them from having to live through a war…” She trailed off and wiped angrily at her eyes, lifting Penelope against her chest and kissing the top of Gale’s head where he still rested against John. “I don’t want them to ever have to experience anything like what we went through.” He gathered her into his side and kissed her temple.

“We went through that so they could live in a better world,” he said softly. “Came out the other side because right here, right now is where we belong.” She looked up with a laugh as she noticed Butter trotting his way over to them, his nose sniffing at Gale and Penelope before he plopped on his side in the shade.

“If it bothers you, I’ll tell them all to go home and never come back. The five of us can figure the rest out.”

“No, they’re fine. It’s just not how we did things in Wisconsin. It’s taking some getting used to.” He had assumed Cass came from money when he met her. The well-manicured nails and silk nightgowns and impeccable table manners cluing him in. He just hadn’t realized he was marrying into a Carolina rice dynasty. It came with multiple homes and polo matches and hunting trips and acres of land and hundreds of employees in the home and around the burgeoning corporation. For so long, Cass had thought marriage and kids were not in the cards for her so the structure of a household was a non-existent problem. But then she had fallen in love with John Egan and married him in London and spent two years dreaming of their future and the comforts of her childhood had found their way in.

“Well, Butter, you keep an eye on these three while I pick out porcelain and tie drapes and whatever the heck else a lady is supposed to do these days.” With one last kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, her son’s head and her husband’s head, Cass was off and pulled into a million directions upon re-entering her home. Whenever she could, she would look out the window at her husband tickling their tummies or helping them put sand in a bucket or carrying them to dip their toes in the water. She knew none of the material things around her mattered. And if it made John more comfortable to get rid of them, she would in a heartbeat. She only needed those three humans and the one furry family member to be happy. To be fulfilled in this life beyond her wildest dreams. Any threats on the horizon be damned.

----

Cass waited anxiously for her parents' new Italian sounding car to pull into the driveway, her siblings, extended family and some of the local friends her and John had found already socializing about the house and grounds. She had taken a sip of her husband’s whiskey she was so nervous.

“Baby, I know for a fact your dad is going to be too focused on the twins and the other grandchildren running around to even care about the way I carve the ham. And who cares if your mother doesn’t like the color of the shutters? I didn’t spend a whole weekend painting them for her.” He had for Cass. She had spent days deciding between two shades of green that John thought were exactly the same but had provided his minimal input when asked.

“I rewarded you handsomely for your efforts, Mr. Egan.” John remembered. They hadn’t left their bed for days after Cass couldn’t stand the sight of him sweaty and with a pencil tucked behind his ear working on their house any longer. She had had her way with him and John had taken on many more projects around the house ever since. And every time, his wife was unable to maintain even a shred of decency.

“I never got that round two you were mentioning this morning, Mrs. Egan,” he mused as he drifted closer and closer until his hands wrapped around the small of her back and her arms draped over his shoulders.

“We have a house full of guests,” she giggled as he nipped gently at her lips.

“Yes but the babies are occupied which means no little angelic interruptions.” She moaned as he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, her toes curling in her new heels.

“Not even on Easter Sunday can you two find a sense of decorum?”

“Shush, Gale, they’re in love,” Marge said with a gentle slap to his arm. If Gale Cleven had a nickel for everytime he had caught the two of them in various stages of passion, he would have been able to use the profits alone to buy a similar house to the one he was standing in.

“Oh, I am so happy you were able to make it!” Cass kissed Gale on the cheeks eagerly and let out a squeal of delight as she wrapped Marge in a hug. “I’ve got you both all set up in the guest room furthest from the nursery so you can hopefully sleep in peace while you’re here.” Before John could even say his own hello, Cass and Marge were off towards the backyard with their heads close together as they whispered.

“Well, we did always say they’d be thick as thieves,” he remarked as he grabbed the suitcase Marge had abandoned by the door. “Up this way.” Gale smiled and nodded politely at all the strangers that were dressed in black and white, bustling in and out of the kitchen and dining room with haste. He could only imagine how it was driving his best friend crazy.

“Who would’ve thought? John Egan having ten people cook his Easter dinner for him,” Gale teased as John set the suitcase down in the guest room and dropped himself into the armchair by the window.

“I hear it’s being served on porcelain,” he mused back. Gale settled in the chair across from him.

“It’s a beautiful house, John. You’ve got to be proud of yourself.” John stared out the window and nodded.

“Yeah, it is. Makes Cass happy to be out here.” It wasn’t that she was unhappy at their home in Virginia but John knew she missed South Carolina. Missed the beach and her family being close by.

“And are you happy?”

“With her and the kids, always. Just learning this new side to her is all.”

“That seems to be what marriage entails. Learning to love something new everyday.” The hum of a car engine broke the comfortable silence between two old friends and Gale peeked out the window with a low whistle. “Is that a Maserati?”

“That it would be, Buck. You want to come distract my mother in law with your good looks for me?” When John and Cass had their more official wedding last year, Buck Cleven had been the hottest commodity. The women of Charleston hadn’t given him a moment to breathe.

“No I think you’ve got the Cooper women under control, Bucky.” Gale clapped him between his shoulder blades. “Now where’s that beautiful baby you named after me?”

Cass was at the bottom of the stairs waiting with a baby on each hip, Gale kissing their sprouting curls on his way to find Marge on the beach, and John forgot all about anything negative he had been feeling that day.

“Say hi Daddy, we were looking for you.” The twins smiled like they always did when they had their parents attention solely on them. The sound of Cass’ voice bringing them a calmness only John could ever begin to relate to.

“Hi, my little bunnies.” John took Penelope onto his own hip, kissing her cheek around the stuffed bunny ear that was between her teeth, Cass reaching to tuck a few of his curls back into place. “I thought you preferred them all messy.”

“I do but-” the door opened and the words died in her throat.

“Cassandra Ann, that dog of yours does have a habit of sticking his nose all over the place.”

“Hi, Mama. Happy Easter to you, too.” John whistled for Butter who came and sat at his side dutifully. “Hi, Daddy.” She pressed a kiss to each of her parents’ cheeks and almost cringed as she saw the line of valets carrying colorful baskets into the backyard. The level of stuffed animals entering her home was reaching a near suffocating level.

“Oh, John, how handsome you look this afternoon.” Cass rolled her eyes as her mother stepped forward to kiss John’s blushing cheeks.

“Thank you, ma’am, you’re looking very lovely yourself. Sir.” He shook her father’s hand firmly, smiling when Penelope reached for her grandfather instantly.

“Cassandra, aren’t you going to show me around? I’m very curious as to which place setting you chose.” She looked at John to say I told you so before guiding her mother down the hall.

“Of course. We can start in the dining room if you’d like.” John felt like a bad father as his son looked at him with wide blue eyes over his mother’s shoulder as they disappeared around the corner but he would make it up to him with something sweet after dinner.

“Can I offer you something to drink, sir?”

“Whiskey, John, thank you.” While John had had to work his charm hard on Mrs. Cooper to convince her he wasn’t a street urchin there to steal her daughter, Mr. Cooper had taken no convincing to know John was the right man for his daughter. Had sat down for one dinner with the two of them and saw how they looked at each other. How he had kept a hand on her protectively the entire time. Had seen the absolute gratitude in Cass’ eyes that John was alive and next to her every time she looked at him.

“I told Cass you’d be more interested in the grandkids than the way I carved the ham later,” he pointed out as Penelope was filled with utter glee at the way her grandfather was tickling her cheeks with her bunny.

“Cassandra has always been my most perceptive child yet, on occasion, forgets that is one of her own most formidable qualities.” John handed him a glass, bringing them together with a clink before taking a sip. “How is my daughter doing?”

“This one and her brother keep her busy and she’s looking forward to getting back to work. But she’s good. She smiles everyday, I’ll always make sure of it.” Penelope’s lower lip began to wobble and John gathered her against his chest just as the first tear rolled down her chubby cheek.

“I can go find the nanny-”

“I’ve got it, sir.” John kissed her forehead gently and she quieted. “She’s just like her mother. Pouts until she gets a kiss then she’s fine.” Now she was focused on the fabric of John’s tie and trying to get it into her mouth. Yes, Mr. Cooper thought, Cass had made the perfect decision to marry this man.

“Son, if I may offer a few pointers on carving the ham.”

----

Hours later, after bellies were full and babies were sleepy, the house was beginning to calm down. Cass had shed her stockings and tied her hair back and accepted Marge’s offer to put the twins to sleep. There were people finishing dishes in the kitchen and packing away porcelain in the dining room. Alice was orchestrating the entire effort for which she was grateful, her fingers wrapping around the neck of a bottle of whiskey and heading towards the small fire that was glowing on the beach.

“You hiding from me?” she teased as she dropped a kiss to the top of his head and sat in the chair next to him.

“Never, baby. Was just having a cigarette before coming in to help with bedtime.” Cass wanted him to quit but was starting with not allowing him to smoke around the kids. She handed him the whiskey and took the cigarette from his fingers, inhaling a few times before putting it out in the sand.

“Marge asked if she could put them to bed for practice. I ran away before she changed her mind,” she giggled. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked around a pull from the bottle.

“Everything.”

“Spook, you know my ego needs specifics.” He opened his arms, summoning her into his lap, and closed his eyes in peace as her head settled under his chin.

“Not letting me chase you away all those years ago. Not divorcing me when I showed up at your bunk bed in Germany. Our babies.”

“I had very little to do with those two but I’ll take it.” She kissed him gently, lovingly. Without a care in the world and in no rush. “Everything to your liking today?”

“Yes. I promise we won’t host anymore holidays for awhile.”

“You pick the right porcelain?”

“Of course not.” John laughed and she joined in, taking her own swig of alcohol. “And I was very impressed by your knife skills at dinner.” John kissed the tip of her nose.

“Your dad told me it was important the man of the house not treat it like carving a ham but like he could use the knives to protect his family.”

“Did he?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

“I think he was trying to convince me to take it more seriously. It worked.”

“It certainly seemed it did.” Cass twisted her finger around the loose curl in the middle of his forehead as he looked out towards the ocean. “I do have one last ask up my sleeve.” Slowly undoing the buttons of her dress, John was more focused than he had been all day. Between her breasts was an Easter egg with hearts painted on it.

“I would’ve joined in on the egg hunt had I known, Cass.”

“Open it.” As soon as he had it in his fingers, her lips were on his jaw and down his neck and he had an inkling what might be inside. He could barely read the words she had written as the blood rushed from his head to between his legs. Round two? His lips were on hers in an instant, John groaning as his hand slid up her thigh and found nothing but bare skin. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, sliding his waistband down just enough to free him.

“Fuck, baby, no time for teasing.” His hands lifted her hips and he sunk into her with a contented sigh, his lips latching onto her collarbone as she found a steady pace. “Want the neighbors to hear how good I make you feel.”

“John,” she whined as his hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed gently. Unable to hold himself back, he laid her onto the blanket and used the new leverage to increase the pace, her legs hooking around his hips and urging him to go harder and faster. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“You look so pretty when you cum, baby,” he cooed into her ear as he felt her clenching around him. “That’s my good girl, taking me so well.” His wife looked so good underneath him. Like she truly was made to be his.

“Fuck, right…there…oh, God,” she arched her back into him as her orgasm washed over her in a waves, John’s hips stuttering as he moaned into her mouth and she took all he had to give her. “I love making you moan.” John was handsome and rugged and all the masculine words that she could think of. But he was also so damn pretty.

“Good thing you’re so good at it,” he said as he nuzzled into the side of her neck. “You’ve worn me out, Mrs. Egan.”

“Can you carry me to bed?” she murmured as her own eyelids were growing heavy.

“Just let me hold you like this for a few more minutes.”

“Hey, John?” He kissed the side of her neck in acknowledgment. “I love you.”

“Hey, Spook?” She smiled in anticipation. “I love you, too.”

And if Gale earned another nickel as he was closing the blinds that night, no one needed to know.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x reader #john egan x oc #cass and bucky

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unityrain24 · 6 months

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ok people here's my essay. (also note that this was for my english class so it is written in a different style than i usually would. it had to be all formal and grammatically correct and such)

2212 words, analytical essay

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: A Queer Allegory for Religious Trauma

ND Stevenson’s She-Ra and The Princesses of Power is an animated Netflix original series rebooting the classic 80s show Shera: Princess of Power. This time, however, the show is chalk-full of diversity, varied body types, queer representation, pleasing colour palettes, and a friends-to-enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance. The first four seasons follow Adora (aka She-Ra) and the princesses of Etheria’s fight against the Evil Horde, using their magic to try bringing peace and justice to the planet. A portal is opened at the end of the fourth season, however, bringing the planet of Etheria out of the isolated dimension of Despondos. No longer separated from the rest of the universe, Horde Prime arrives at Etheria- not only bringing higher stakes than any season preceding it, but an entirely new layer of symbolism to the series. The final season was a clear allegory for religious trauma, an especially relevant topic for the show’s majorly queer audience.

When his armada arrives at Etheria, Horde Prime sends his army of clones and robots down to take the planet by force. Unlike the Evil Horde that had been trying to take the planet before Prime’s arrival, who were disorganized, messy, and industrial, everything under Prime is sleek, elegant, efficient, and most importantly: white. Horde Prime’s ships are white, Horde Prime’s robots are white. Horde Prime’s skin is white, his hair is white, his clothes are white, as are all his clones. Pure, unblemished white, with only sparing accents of grey or green.

In colour theory, white has a few meanings. The colour can represent purity, cleanliness, innocence, and even righteousness. This colour theory is heavily incorporated into biblical verses, metaphors, and artwork (and some might even argue that our modern idea of white comes from the Bible). In art, God and angels are almost always depicted wearing white, as is Jesus in his resurrection. Halos of white or light yellow are shown adorning holy figures' heads. Several bible verses use white robes or other white objects as a metaphor of the wearer’s purity. White is still used in several Christian rituals/customs today, such as weddings, baptisms, and more. White is one of (if not the) most important colour in Christian lore. Even in instances where pure white isn’t used, there is a clear correlation between light versus dark and good versus evil.

White has more than one meaning, however- on the opposite side of the coin, white can also represent coldness, blankness, emptiness, and loneliness. The most interesting thing about the show’s use of white is that it encapsulates both facets of its representation. Horde Prime uses white to represent his purity and perfection, but to the people of the colourful, messy world Etheria, this is a cold, eerie colour. As are Horde Prime’s ideals. His perfection and purity is synonymous to coldness. The white represents both- not only simultaneously, but as the same thing.

Horde Prime’s empire being entirely white is no coincidence- neither in-story by Prime, nor in real life by the writers. Horde prime uses white to represent everything he stands for, and the writers use white to represent everything Christianity stands for.

Horde Prime is a being that has lived an amount of lifetimes beyond comprehension- every time his body starts to grow old and fail, he selects a new clone of his to insert his memory and very essence into. So even though he has a new body, he is still him. And the reason for this? To fulfill his self imposed purpose of bringing peace and perfection to the universe. To thousands of planets he has been, one at a time, to reach this. Horde Prime believes there is only one right way to do things, and that humanity cannot be trusted to govern themselves.

Every planet he takes goes the same: he arrives with his ships, and slowly implants chips into the neck of each and every being on a planet. These chips take away the autonomy of the host, and they are left blank. No personality, no choices, no person. All their actions are perfectly automated and controlled by a hive mind, and Horde Prime can take specific control of and see through the eyes of any individual at any given time. With Horde Prime in control, there is no war, no famine, no pain. There is only peace, perfection, and purity. And anyone who does not conform, does not accept his gracious rule, are dealt with accordingly. Entire planets have been left desolate and barren, entire peoples subjected to genocide for not accepting Horde Prime. All dead in the name of peace.

These ideals upheld by Horde Prime are strikingly similar to Christianity. Perfection and purity are two of the main ideals of Christianity, in hand with righteousness. Christians strive to “be like Jesus,” to be their idea of a good person, to be loyal to their religion, and to make it into Heaven. Several rituals to “repent” exist when they feel they have not upheld these standards correctly- including prayer, confessionals, sacrament, and baptism. Even though true perfection, purity, and righteousness are typically seen as unattainable to everyone but the Godhead, it is common belief that constant trying will at least get you as close to it as possible. Conformity is another key aspect of Christianity, though it is not advertised, and to the exact extent it is upheld depends on the sect. In general, though, Christianity pressures every one of its followers (and even those who aren’t) to behave a certain way, to think a certain way, and to only associate with others among themselves.

Horde Prime’s way of upholding these ideals isn’t dissimilar to Christianity’s either. Much like Horde Prime’s Galactic Empire, Christianity has had a long history of forced assimilation. From the Spanish conquistadors to the pilgrims and other colonial settlers of North America, death and pain has come in the wake of the spread of Christianity for hundreds of years, amongst various sects of the religion. Native peoples have been murdered for their loyalty to their “savage” non-Christian ways, land has been stolen, and indigenous religions and other important cultural traditions have been changed past recognition or completely erased, all in the name of “saving,” all in the name of “love,” all in the name of “what’s right,” all in the name of God. Christianity is the only right way, Horde Prime is the only right way.

Its likeness to Christianization isn’t the only resemblance Horde Prime’s ways share with Christianity, however. When Horde Prime arrives at Etheria, three people are brought aboard his ship- Queen Glimmer, one of the Etherian rebels that had been fighting against the Evil Horde (and now the Galactic Empire), Catra, a high-ranking member of the Evil Horde that had been taking over Etheria before the Galactic Empire arrived (but is in love with Adora, who is one of the rebels), and Hordak, the leader of the Evil Horde. Hordak was a clone of Horde Prime’s that had been stranded on Etheria, which was in an isolated dimension. He spent his time in isolation trying to take the planet so that if he was ever reunited with Horde Prime, he would be seen as “worthy”. Horde Prime, however, is displeased by Hordak’s actions- claiming that Hordak was trying to take the planet for selfish reasons rather than for Horde Prime, and for giving himself a name. As such, Hordak must be “purified.”

In this purification process, Hordak’s mind is wiped, and he begs for forgiveness and to complete the process. He is then dressed in white and walks into a circular pool with liquid that reaches his waist. The liquid is electrified for several moments, and his screams can be heard, and then it stops. He is left blank, and Horde Prime and the other clones watching praise him for being the purest among them. Later, Catra is subjected to the same process against her will, and is now a mindless servant of Horde Prime as well. This process is almost identical to the Christian concept of Baptism. While exactly how baptism is carried out varies between sects (full submersion under water versus just a sprinkling, infant versus child, etc), the purpose remains the same- to purify past sins.

A more abstract similarity between Horde Prime’s empire and Christianity is the use of titles. Prime’s clones refer to each other as “brother” (and to Catra as “sister,” once she has been “purified”), and Horde Prime as “big brother.” Not all sects of Christianity use such titles to refer to each other, but some do; notably Catholic nuns or members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons). But even those sects who do not refer to each other as brother and sister often view Jesus as their “older brother” and God as their “heavenly father.”

Horde Prime himself has many more titles than simply “brother” or Emperor of the Galactic Horde, however. Other titles given to him include Ruler of the Known Universe, Regent of the Seven Skies, He Who Brings the Day and the Night, Revered one of the Shining galaxies, and Promised one of a Thousand Suns. In Christianity, Jesus also is referred to by many names. The Saviour, the Redeemer, the Son of God, the Son of Man, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace, the Lamb of God, and several more. In addition to titles, some of the phrases in general used by Christians and the Galactic Empire are common. Both use the word “rejoice” when telling of their faith. Amongst Christians, “glory to God in the highest” and “[God] is the same yesterday, today, and forever” are not uncommon phrases. “Glory be to Horde Prime” is a common phrase expressed by the clones, and even more so, the infamous mantra “Horde Prime sees all, Horde Prime knows all” repeated so many times throughout the season.

The titles used for each other perpetuate a feeling of conformity and a feeling of “otherness” concerning those who do not conform. The titles used for their leaders perpetuate subservience, power imbalances, respect, and devotion. The phrases used in relation to their leaders perpetuate devotion and omnipotence. These are true of both Horde Prime’s Galactic Empire and Christianity.

Horde Prime was a genuinely disturbing villain who represented every painful thing Christianity is made of- toxic perfectionism and purity, conformity, obedience, control, and omnipotence. Loss of expression and individuality. The fear of being constantly watched. These are things that anyone with religious trauma may deal with, but it’s especially true of queer people. Queer people have had a long history of oppression at the hand of Christianity (and colonialism in general). From outright murder to conversion therapy and other abuses, from abandonment to dismissal, Christianity has perpetuated all of it for centuries. And it’s still something that happens today.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has a majorly queer audience, due to both the creative process of the show and the representation within the series itself. Not only is the creator of the series (ND Stevenson) queer, but so was practically every character- whether they were a main character, side character, or background character with only a few seconds of screen time. One of the main plots of the show is the complicated lesbian romance between Adora and Catra. As such, the series attracted a good number of queer fans, and religious trauma (or at the very least, religious fear) is a topic that hits uncomfortably close for many.

Other pieces of media that incorporate religious imagery have a tendency to be unclear about how it is framed. Is the imagery shown to be wrong and the victim is right and prevails? Is the imagery shown to be right, and the pained victim in terrified denial? Is the imagery shown to be truly wrong but inevitably triumphant anyways, no matter what the victim tries? It is so muddy in so many pieces of media. The important thing about the fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power was how it was framed. Perhaps it was because it was a kids show, or perhaps it was the queer creators’ spirit and defiance, but the series was clear in their framing of Horde Prime. The perfect white make the audience uneasy. Horde Prime’s retelling of his victories fill the audience with dread and then hollowness. The “baptisms” of Hordak and Catra are disturbing. Every aspect of Horde Prime and everything he stood for was presented as wrong. Without any doubt.

And even more importantly, the people of Etheria were able to prevail. She-Ra and the other princesses were able to defeat Horde Prime and his empire, and free those forced into subservience by his chips. Catra (and Hordak) were saved. The ships were destroyed. The people of Etheria were allowed to be free and express themselves and be people. This message was something very important to the queer audience. Not only was the fifth season an expression of queer pain, but an expression of queer hope. Neither thing should be ignored. Pain is valid. Hope is needed. To be healthy, both need to be recognized. To have a series that expressed both, and in such a queer way, was extremely important to so many people.

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jessicalprice · 1 year

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undiscovered country

(reposted from Twitter)

When I have the emotional bandwidth to look at Christians and ex-Christians flailing at Jews and Jewish stuff rather than just wishing they’d tend to their own process and practice and leave us alone, the thing I want most for them is to learn to encounter cultures and traditions and practices that are different from theirs without immediately trying to force them into an analogy or paradigm with something that’s familiar to them.

Sometimes I wonder if there’s even any actual spirituality in authoritarian Christianity, because the one thing I understand about engagement with the sacred is that it’s a way to cultivate awe and learn to face mystery without rushing to reduce it to something comprehensible.

And that matters in every area of life. It matters for loving people. Every other person you encounter will always in some ways be a mystery, and if you can only love what you fully understand about them, you love a reflection of yourself, not them.

It matters for learning—ESPECIALLY in science. If you rush to force what you’re seeing into a paradigm you’re familiar with, you often end up with either incomplete data or bad interpretations of data.

It matters for engaging with cultures you’re not part of. If you’re not willing to stop demanding that they immediately make sense to you, you end up misapprehending them and, often, disbelieving people about their own worldview and experiences.

I remember the first time a massage therapist worked on my psoas muscle.

I immediately tensed up and literally started involuntarily crawling across the massage table away from her.

She asked me, “I want you to take a moment and think about whether this actually hurts or whether it’s just an intense, strange sensation and you expect pain.”

It’s hard, when it feels like someone’s touching an internal organ or something to relax, back up, and just be receptive and feel rather than trying to categorize and react. But she was right. It didn’t hurt, I didn’t need her to reduce the pressure. It was just new.

It’s really, really okay—I promise, you can take the time and space!—to encounter something in another culture and just absorb without immediately trying to understand. I don’t know that I can explain how to get there beyond, just let go for a minute and be.

Like when you taste something new, you don’t immediately have to categorize, oh, this tastes like chicken! You can just sit there for a moment and let it be new. If you don’t, I don’t think you’ll actually fully taste it.

When I have a sensation experience like that and I can just sit and absorb for a bit, I feel like I can feel parts of my brain that didn’t talk before connecting. If it’s something like a wine tasting where I'm supposed to describe and compare immediately, I don’t sense that.

And I just wish people deconstructing Christianity, who often seem really prone to demanding Christian paradigms for everything, would try that. You can do it with people things as well as sensation things.

I think sometimes that you can’t really perceive other people, both on an individual level and on a cultural/societal one, if you expect to fully understand them. You definitely can't have an I-Thou encounter with them, in the Buber sense, or be face-to-face, in the Levinas sense. Understanding usually grows, but it has to have space to do so.

It’s not easy, of course, and it’s not something any of us can do all the time. There are important reasons our brains look for patterns and analogies and categories.

We can't constantly be in an I-Thou relationship with the Other and we don’t need to. But I dunno, I think it’s important to learn to

oscillate, maybe?

just let go sometimes and perceive absorptively rather than categorizingly?

There’s that infinitesimal moment before you put a concept or understanding into words and you can learn to extend it and not make what you’re encountering into something. Just MEET it, you know? And this is sort of like that. It’s how you actually listen to another.

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kaeyapilled · 10 months

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trying to put my (mostly) child kaeya headcanons in one spot. brace yourself this is gonna be so long

first i think he was around 8 years old when he was left in mondstadt.

before that he lived with his father always moving from place to place. or maybe... i dont know honestly. they didn't live in khaenri'ah (whatever's left of it) because i like the idea that kaeya is the last hope for a place he's only heard stories about. for people he has barely met. and he yearns for it all the same, enough to run away as a stowaway on a ship just for the slim chance he'll get to meet it, to return to a place he only knows through other people's memories... yeah it's a thought i like to entertain. so anyway i dont know where exactly kaeya lived before my headcanons for this are really vague lmao. im torn between making him be raised in some corner of teyvat, or somewhere very abyss touched, or... a secret third thing i dont yet know...

i think his mother died when he was so young he has barely any recollection of her and it haunts him a bit. he cant remember what she looked like. to have an idea he can just look in a mirror though. he's her spitting image.

unsure about siblings... i think he didnt have any

i dont think his father was abusive. neglectful maybe. he was really awful at the father job but mostly because of how emotionally distant he was. he never hit kaeya or went out of his way to be cruel to him, he was just very stern. kaeya was a child who didn't really know comfort. all his basic needs were met, but his father just wasn't the type to hug or say words of encouragement, to calm him down from nightmares, to soothe a fever beyond just bitter medicine and leaving kaeya laid down on the cot alone. i think the closest they ever got to that sort of connection was when he taught kaeya their clan's history, which we know he did from canon. that piece of paper where the handwriting shows an adult guiding a child's hand on the paper makes me. Feel Things. he was not a soft man or a good father by any means but. *gestures vaguely*

and you know what. i think he loved kaeya in his own way. which is to say that he loved kaeya more as a means to an end than as a son. or maybe not. maybe leaving kaeya was more difficult for him than i give him credit for. i cant really decide. either way 2/10 for effort his parenting sucked and left deep scars in this poor poor child BUT he was not a heartless asshole is what im trying to say

anyway kaeya has very bittersweet very mixed feelings about him. he left his own son all alone in an unfamiliar land for unclear reasons. placed a burden nobody should ever have to carry on the shoulders of a child. he never embraced him or told him he loved him. but at the same time we see kaeya in game trying to understand his father's motivations for abandoning him there. that maybe a happier life could have been a factor. his safety. assuming this is, like, true. i headcanon that it is. it's not the entire reason by far. but it could have been part of it. maybe that's called "wishful thinking". we'll find out one day i hope

i don't really know what to make of the entire "you're our last hope" thing. as in, what exactly does that entail. what did his father tell him. im just kinda waiting patiently for them to actually tell us what's up. i can tell you it was a ridiculous amount of pressure on kaeya though. he might have been mature for his age and forced to grow up faster than he should have but a lot of it was simply beyond his comprehension. like, that's an entire seven year old child. he shouldve been playing with toys. anyway. kaeya who has felt guilt as his standard everyday main emotion since he was little

i think kaeya's father taught him to speak, read and write in common, so kaeya could understand people pretty well when he was left in mondstadt and could read basic stuff

an extension of this headcanon: i think each region has their own language besides just common tongue, and that in general people can speak both, especially in the big cities, while in rural areas people will probably only speak the region's mother tongue. i read a mutual's headcanon like this once and it rewired my brain so i borrowed it. also common varies from place to place because there are different dialects from mixing with the nations' other languages. to make it fun!

so when kaeya gets to mondstadt he can't speak mondstadtian specifically but he can speak common and the ragnvindrs can all speak both. eventually as he stays there kaeya learns mondstadt's language and loses the accent (a very conscious effort from his part)

more on the accent: if you listen closely to him nowadays, some word or other still sounds odd, maybe too stiff, the way he rolls his tongue on certain letters- but it's very subtle

kaeya hasn't spoken his mother tongue in so long he inevitably has forgotten certain things, and he was so young when he stopped speaking it that there are things he simply never learned. i think this haunts kaeya sooo bad. he's someone who's always trying to keep little pieces of his past, of things that have a lot of emotional value for him; he's someone who values memories, in particular physical, tangible pieces of memories. and we see him do this with his roots, like adding khaenri'ahn symbols and motifs to his outfits, saving slips of paper written by his father about his family's story, etc..

so anyway the fact he's forgetting bits and pieces of his mother tongue makes him grasp desperately at whatever's still left of it in his memory. i wonder if he writes what he can om scraps of paper, or maybe an actual notebook; i wonder also if he did similar things as a child too? though it's something he'd have to keep insanely well hidden and the paranoia about someone finding it out would absolutely eat him alive

okay back to his childhood. when he's taken in by the ragnvindrs i think he's very quiet and only speaks when spoken to. he is so unfathomably scared and lonely and everything is terrifyingly unfamiliar but any genuine manifestation of fear and anxiety and homesickness is saved for the dead of night when everyone's asleep and won't see/hear him cry. he keeps to himself, acts very polite, doesn't bother anyone with asking for help or for anything beyond what he's already been offered.

diluc was very happy about having another kid his age living under the same roof and almost immediately saw him as a little brother and kaeya simply could not match the enthusiasm. they took it as him just being shy, and to an extent that was part of it, but also he simply did not want to be there at all. no matter how wonderfully kind those people were to him, kaeya missed his father and his mother and the homeland he didnt even know in person but that was his biggest responsibility. it was such an enormous change and he missed the familiarity so much it made him ill. like literally. i think he spent his first or second week with the ragnvindrs bedridden

im very fond of the hc that kaeya took ill easily as a child.

kaeya had nightmares often. i absolutely cannot see him asking for comfort in any direct way. most of the time he'd just hold his own hand through it. other times he'd slip out of bed and see there was still light coming from the study. he'd sit on an armchair next to crepus, who already knew kaeya would hardly ever speak about what was making him upset, and watch him work until he fell asleep again.

i think kaeya was a very scrawny kid who looked a bit younger than he actually was. next to diluc (who im always torn between making just seven months older than him, or a year and seven months older) he seemed even tinier. while diluc was the picture of a healthy boy, all full red cheeks and bright eyes, kaeya was too lean, eyes too tired, sometimes distant, like he's not entirely present, lost in thought. you could see a sadness in him sometimes that seemed deeper than anything a child his age should know. kaeya was quiet not just because he didn't speak a lot, but because he seemed to exist silently. if he disappeared to be alone for a while and didn't want you to find him, you would not find him.

and anyway. i like the idea of him slowly allowing himself to be louder as he becomes more comfortable with the ragnvindrs. and revealing his more sarcastic side lol. he's always been quick witted, he was just too timid at first

child kaeya who was such a weird kid. he spoke in a way that often lacked the childishness expected from someone who's yet to turn nine. said odd cryptic things with zero explanation. banned from sharing bedtime stories after scaring diluc with overly fucked up khaenri'ahn folk tales. normalest child alive. i think he bit into a crystalfly once

oh and kaeya absolutely came up with the whole "i come from a family of pirates" thing as a kid. i think he read about pirates in a book once and was completely enamored with the idea. and one side effect of being a secret agent pawn spy is the ability to spin wild tales on the spot. so anyway did he convince diluc he was toootally a pirate. yes. diluc believed him for way too long

no wonder he's so good at telling stories to kids nowadays. he's had practice

about the eyepatch: i can never settle on just one headcanon!! option one: his eye was fine as a kid and he only wore it sometimes for the pirate roleplay, then he started wearing it everyday after The Fight because diluc wounded him; option two: he always wore the eyepatch because there is something abyss/khaenri'ah related going on with his right eye (don't ask me what exactly. though im fond of the idea that it's connected to his father and it's basically what allows him to fulfill the spy role, in some nebulous way.) and during the fight diluc aimed for it on purpose; there's probably a secret third option im forgetting about. i lean more towards option one these days i think.

okay im out of headcanons for now. i bet that the moment i click post im gonna remember ten more. but its ok. i can make another post if needed. never forget that i can speak about kaeya for literal hours and that, if prompted, i will do so

#is anyone going to read this this is SO long #my posts #kaeyaposting #kaeya #kaeya alberich #there. it's alive

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aphroditelovesu · 8 months

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Hey girl! I'm so glad! So how about Alexander's love letter about him learning she's from the future and she ran away before she's afraid he'll burn her at the stake ( she's pregnant again? your call) I might send some thoughts about him and maybe thirsts if that's okay by you love

author's note: of course! Feel free to send your thoughts and thirsts 😊

My Lost Queen,

At this time, my words cannot express the depth of my feelings for you. From the moment our paths crossed, something inside me knew our connection was deeper than time and space could contain.

Today, my heart weighs with the discovery that was part of you. The murmurs that reached me revealed a secret that reality could never foresee. My beloved, how can it be that you are from a time beyond our own, a time our minds could not conceive of?

The truth I now face is hard to accept, but my love for you does not diminish. In fact, he grows even stronger in the face of this challenge. I understand that fear of persecution and condemnation led you to flee, fearing for your life. My soul bleeds to think of what you must have endured alone without my support.

Know that my deepest desire is to keep you safe, keep you with me, even if it means defying the gods themselves. I know that the flames that once burned so fiercely under my command are now ignited within me in a whole new way, burning for you, our history, and a future no one could have foreseen.

My queen, wherever you are now, I ask you to consider returning to me or else I will come for you. I promise to protect you, even if it means facing the gods and time itself. Together, we can rewrite our destiny, and prove that love is stronger than any limitation imposed by the ages.

I hope these words can find their way to you, crossing barriers beyond our comprehension. As long as my heart beats, you will have an eternal place in it, where the flame of our love will burn forever.

With all my love,

Alexander.

#yandere historical characters #yandere history #history #yandere alexander the great love letter #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #alexander the great x reader #love letter #yandere love letter

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star-fi · 1 month

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Back again! This time with the most original(-ish)-starbound-plot relevant crewmember!

TISHA SASHAT [Tenebrhae]

Tisha was is their second year of training when the Earth was ripped apart by a storm of horrors pouring forth from a rift in reality. (Suprise! Thierri's crew resides in a Starbound AU: the most major change is that the ruin was not alone: creatures beyond our comprehension continue to roam (and often terrorize) Protectorate alliance space and beyond. Asra Nox's, and by extension, the Occasus cult's, role is modified in this AU. Notes on that in the tags.) After evacuating to Mars temporarily, they reunited with a few of their friends from the graduating class. Unbeknownst to Tisha, the same friend that would go on to lead the recovery efforts was the one responsible for the rift's opening.

████ didn't destroy earth intentionally. Rather, she ignored the warnings from her mentors about tinkering with the internal storage systems of matter manipulators and caused it to implode at the wrong time and worst place: The Beginning of the Rift. It started out small, barely a rip in space hidden behind a crate of capsules. Maybe it would've closed on its own. However, eager to prove the versatility of her homebrewed manipulator, ████ attempted to stitch it back together by force. What followed was a catastrophic series of chain reactions, leading to the destruction of Earth. ████ was scarred both physically and mentally by her proximity to the tear. Driven by guilt, she leads the effort in recovering the pieces of Earth and possibly sealing them back together after the rip is sealed. Her methods however...

Tisha was unaware of ████'s role in Earth's destruction, only knowing that at the time, she was studying the high level engineering of matter manipulators. They put the pieces together themself when ████ revealed her plan to use the same matter manipulator to try and seal the rift again. Distrustful of ████'s hasty problem solving, Tisha stole the manipulator and fled the solar system. Half fueled by fear and half concern for their former friend, they hope that by removing the solution that ████ recklessly relied on, she will take more time to think of solutions, rather than taking the quickest, yet riskiest route.

Unfortunately, instead of redirecting her focus to other solutions, ████ put a bounty on Tisha's head. They didn't hear about this until after they hopped on a freight ship headed to the edges of Protectorate allied space, though.

Thierri's crew stood out to Tisha among others by having what looked like a fellow tenebrhae as chief engineering officer. Not used to seeing their kind off-planet (and in the same field of study as them!) Tisha applied and was accepted. To their chagrin, what they assumed was a tenebrhae turned out to be Gus' censored profile image. Despite their disappointment, their bounty had reached the edge stations and Tisha had no choice but to leave on the ship and stay with the crew until the end of their contract.

Tisha mostly works with Gus in maintaining the ship's engine. However, Gus is constantly taking over for major tasks, leaving only the most menial and surface level ones for them. This annoys Tisha, who thinks he's underestimating their expertise and overworking himself. In reality, it's because Gus secretly modified the engine to process the erchius crystals that grow from where his left arm used to be. Besides Chal and Thierri, nobody on the ship knows about the Lunar Base Incident, though Tisha is constantly on the verge of finding out.

#thierri's crew #starbound #tenebrhae #instead of being the main threat/antagonist asra and her cult are more a pervasive terran/martian hate group in this au #a lot of their foundation is feeding into people's fear of aliens being invited to Earth (humanity's homeplanet) when none of the other #races have willingly revealed the location of their homeplanets. a lot of fearmongering over alien invasions and occupations etc #they don't hold as much military power though and they're almost never found outside of the solar system #anyways i have a lot more to say on the specifics and about asra herself but ill have to save that for its own post #if you'd like to know more about it sooner (or anything about the AU really!) please send an ask!#i'll make a masterpost soon to make it easier to find the other crew members and worldbuilding stuff

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ghostofskywalker · 5 months

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i am so tired right now and accidentally deleted the ask instead of clicking "answer", so this ficlet is for an anon who requested "can our goal be not to die today" - "that seems like a lot to ask" with harley quinn! i hope you enjoy it :)

words: 818

What a Night

summary: you should have known what you were getting into when you began hanging out with her, but of course sometimes love is truly blind.

harley quinn masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

“Hey Harley!” you yelled from the passenger seat of the car.

She didn’t listen, and you didn’t really have a way to confirm this from where you were sitting, but you had a feeling that the gas pedal of the car you were riding in was practically resting on the floor of the car, and she had no intention of changing that any time soon.

“What’s up pumpkin?” How she had the confidence to look over and shoot you a smile while the car was weaving in and out of Gotham traffic at full speed was beyond your comprehension, and you certainly didn’t feel safer for it.

“Can our goal be not to die today?”

Something (you thought it might have been a whole watermelon, but you honestly weren’t too sure) came flying off the truck in front of you, and Harley swerved just before it made contact with the windshield. “I don’t know!” she called out, as even though the windows were closed the radio was turned up inexplicably loud. “That seems like a lot to ask!”

“I don’t feel like it is!”

The sound of gunshots joined the cacophony of Gotham’s night noises, and you were sure that they had to be raining down all around the car. You should have really expected some kind of chaos to start when you hang around Harley, and maybe you should have said no to tonight, but you couldn’t help it. Even now, with a manic glint in her eye as she played fast and loose with the traffic rules of Gotham (and your lives), you could see something special about her, and it wasn’t just the crazy color combinations she wore.

Maybe falling in love was admitting when you’re too doomed to ignore it, and there was no questioning that anymore. You thought that your friendship with the exuberant ex-criminal was right at the point where it could shift to be something more, and you couldn’t help the way you hoped that something would happen to trigger that change in the near future. You would have never guessed that you would be speeding through the streets of Gotham with her, but you supposed this probably wasn’t the craziest thing she’s ever done.

Thankfully, it felt like the stakes of the evening took a momentary pause when Harley pulled into an alley and opened the driver’s door of the car. “What are you doing?” you called, just finally beginning to gather your bearings about what was going on.

“No time to explain!” she called, right as she took off running. “Follow me!”

With what you felt like was no other choice, you obeyed, and the two of you finally ended up in an abandoned warehouse. Old building materials, shattered window shards, and forgotten furniture laid beneath a thick blanket of dust, and you were just thankful to finally be granted a moment this evening in which you weren’t in active danger of dying.

“Who were those people?” you asked between heaving pants, wishing that you had access to water (or something else to quench your thirst).

Harley shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, with a tone that was way too nonchalant for your liking. “I can hardly ever keep track of who wants to kill me these days.”

“Can we leave this place?”

Again, she shrugged, the smile on her face only growing. “Why would you want to?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Have you seen this place? I don’t think it’s been in use since before Batman was born.”

She just laughed, reaching down to take your hand. “Fine grumpy. I can take you home now, how’s that?”

“Are we actually going to make it there, or are we going to die two blocks away?”

“I don’t know!” She giggled as she began to pull you back towards the car. “And isn’t that the fun part of all this?”

“I think you and I have different definitions of fun Harley.”

“Oh?” she stopped in her tracks. “And what would you consider fun?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner out somewhere? Anywhere where I’m not in mortal peril, really.”

You hadn’t even realized what you said until you watched her expression shift. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

Maybe it was the insane car chase you had just experienced, a side effect of the adrenaline that was so obviously pumping through your body right now, but you didn’t shy away. “And what if it is? Would you say yes?”

Harley answered your question by leaning in to steal a kiss from you, just before she turned and sprinted away from you, gleeful laughter escaping her mouth as she shouted something about racing her back to the car.

And with the potential of another kiss (and one even better than that) suddenly on the table, you took off running after her, this time a little less worried about your life.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#winterficlets23 #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x you #harley quinn fanfiction #dc x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 11 months

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Warriors Great Tales

Lindir x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love this handsome, rather nervous elf. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She’d kept to herself during the White Council’s meeting, preferring not to say a word in the presence of such high figures, not as though she’d had anything of importance to speak of, though she couldn’t help but watch Lady Galadriel every step she took. The elven woman walked, no, practically glided with such a grace, and she was beautiful—beyond words comprehension, beautiful. She’d decided that she couldn’t write a song because nothing could capture her in lyrical form.

Still, she’d kept to herself, busing her mind with journalling the latest in their adventures with the company. She hadn’t even noticed the talking had died down until she looked up when silence reached her, and Lindir appeared in the archway, a concerned look on his face.

“My Lord Elrond,” he said. “The dwarves…they’ve gone.”

She and Gandalf happened a look and she innocently replied, “Oh, no…they left? Well, that’s unfortunate.” Gandalf shot her a glare and she cleared her throat, going quiet again.

Elrond sighed, looking back at Lindir. “Lindir, take our songstress to the evening room. We have a conversation that is needing with Mithrandir.”

Lindir bowed his head. “Yes, My Lord.” He glanced over at her, and she rose from her seat.

As she passed Gandalf, she murmured, “Don’t leave without me.”

***

She entered the room that Lindir showed her to, a gorgeous little awning with ivy growing along the marble ceiling and pillars. She took a seat on one of the padded chairs beside a small table, Lindir sitting across from her.

“You knew they were leaving?” he asked, and she met his gaze, sighing.

“Gandalf didn’t explicitly tell me they were, but I sure expected it was coming.” She frowned. “I worry when Gandalf and I are not there. Who knows what trouble they will get into without us.”

Lindir blinked. “Might I ask why you joined this company in the first place?”

A smile grew on her lips, and she leaned back, staring at the moon high in the sky. “What good is life if you there are no tales to tell? No daring escapes? No riches found or love gained?” looking at him, she added, “I think this is the most excitement Rivendell has seen in a long time. I wish for my life to be like this every moment. Joy, laughter, fun.”

“Don’t you want safety?”

“Well sure,” she replied. “When I’m old and gray. But I’m a young woman.” She sighed wistfully. “I know it might be hard for an elf to understand the concept of mortality, but Lindir, my life is finite. At some point I will die. But even so, I want to live all that I can, see and do all that I can. Even if it means there is sorrow and grief. It is a part of being alive.”

Lindir paused, taking in her peacefulness. “Are you afraid?”

“Of?”

“Mortality?”

She shrugged. “I think fearing your death is natural, but what’s the point of spending my life fretting over the inevitable? I’m going to die one day. It may be tomorrow. It may be in ninety-seven years. All I know is that I will live everyday as if I will die then.”

He hummed low in his throat, looking over Rivendell. “I’ve never actually left Rivendell before.”

“Not once?”

“Whenever Lord Elrond makes trips, the rare ones, he takes Erestor. I…stay here.”

Her brows pinched together, and she asked, “Haven’t you ever had a desire to go somewhere other than here? Just to see what the world is like?”

Lindir hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. “Sometimes.” His cheeks darkened in the night. “But…I’m not exactly built for battle. I mean I can fight,” he hurriedly interjected, as if he wanted to appear fit for a fight to her. “But weaponry is not my best ability.”

She smiled and gently picked up the seat she was sitting in, walking it over to sit beside Lindir. “We,” she said as she lowered the seat and settled back in it, tucking her legs underneath her. “Are the writers of our warrior’s great tales, Lindir. While we don’t fight those battles, we make sure they live on forever.”

He was suddenly very conscious of how close she was, what he was more conscious of was that he could feel the warmth radiating from her onto him as close as they were. “O-oh?”

“Of course!” she chirped. “We can’t all be fighters.” Nudging him, she quipped, “Some of us must be lovers.”

Lindir practically spluttered, cheeks turning crimson as he looked at her, then between them, then towards the tops of the other buildings. “I—I see.”

And that gave her a hint as she leaned over, perching her palm on her chin as she asked, “Lindir, have you never been intimate with someone?”

“I am feeling very uncomfortable right now,” he muttered. She smiled knowingly at him, and he frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“You’ve never lain with anyone, have you, Lindir?”

“This is not an appropriate conversation for a young man and woman to be having. Not an appropriate conversation in the slightest.”

“I won’t tell secrets if you won’t,” she teased and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Elves, we…do not take union so lightly.” He shifted nervously in his seat. “It is…customary, to save oneself for marriage.”

“A bit pious,” she decided, gently trailing her fingers up the inside of his sleeve, against his wrist; she grinned when his fist clenched, and he looked ready to collapse. “And these marriages, of course to remain faithful to your lover forever and ever even after death. To hold true all that is good and stay during sickness…” Lindir was nodding along when she asked, “Can humans marry elves?”

He went still and blinked a few times as her fingers stopped their tracings; Lindir looked at her. “It is…uncommon, but yes.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Lindir, you wouldn’t happen to have a young elf lover running around Rivendell or any other part of the land, would you?”

He shook his head quietly.

“Well…I’m unwed, you’re unwed. Perhaps we sho—”

The doors opened on the side and the two jumped as Gandalf entered the room. “Lord Elrond has summoned the two of you. Well, you,” he corrected, looking at her. “Lindir is simply to follow.”

She hummed and put her feet on the ground, intent to stand when she suddenly felt how tingly her legs were—and how numb. She let out a gasp as she stood and immediately went hurtling for the floor, when strong, slender arms wrapped themselves around her back and waist, and her breath caught in her throat as she came face to face with a rather surprised, yet flustered Lindir. Her arm wound around his shoulders, the other grasping at his bicep and she gazed at him.

“I…thank you, Lindir,” she breathed.

He swallowed thickly and murmured, “Of course, meleth nîn.”

“…I don’t know what that means, Lindir,” she whispered, and he smiled at her.

“You will learn one day.”

As they gazed at one another, someone cleared their throat with great exaggeration and, “If you two are quite finished?”

Lindir pulled her upright and they split, her cheeks hot as Gandalf turned on his heel and she hurried after him, Lindir following. She knew though, that Gandalf had a grin the size of the Misty Mountain range on his face.

#lindir imagine #lindir imagines #lindir x reader #lindir x reader imagines #lindir x reader imagine #lindir #lindir lotr #lindir the hobbit #lindir hobbit #the hobbit #hobbit #galadriel #lady galadriel #gandalf #gandalf the grey #elrond #lord elrond #lotr #lord of the rings

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sisterdivinium · 1 year

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Finding "the meaning" to a show that could have had up to five or seven seasons but was cancelled after the second is somewhat like trying to understand a novel composed of seventy chapters by having read only twenty — there is a whole wealth of information which we do not possess that could alter our reading of any given element or of the entire thing in itself.

Still, there are always patterns that weave a story into a cohesive unit and they can help us to better grope in darkness towards comprehension. One such pattern in Warrior Nun appears to be how the consequences to mistakes, "sins" or evil deeds committed by characters manifest.

Basic storytelling usually requires characters to act on something so that complications or resolutions may arise from their choices and move the plot forwards. In Warrior Nun, many of these actions are quite tragic in nature: Suzanne's arrogance and pride lead to the death of her Mother Superion; Vincent's allegiance to the higher power he believed Adriel to be inspired him to kill Shannon; Ava's flight from the Cat's Cradle ends up damning Lilith as she is mortally wounded and taken away by a tarask... All of these events have negative outcomes and heavy repercussions on all characters directly or indirectly involved. Something changes permanently because of them, be it in the world around them or within the characters themselves.

And yet, it would seem that all of these dark deeds not only move the story forwards but might also have overall positive results. We would have had no protagonist without Ava — and she would arguably never have received the halo to begin with had she not been murdered. What's more, on a personal scale, the horrifying crime she suffers is, in the end, the very thing that allows her a second chance in life, a new life.

An act of outside evil permits Ava to grow and develop, shows her a path she would not otherwise have found. Without her own season in some sort of hell, Lilith would not have been able to advance towards other ways of being and understanding beyond her very strict limitations. Vincent and Suzanne would not have embarked on their own journeys of enlightenment without having caused the pain they are responsible for.

Beatrice might have been paying for someone else's mistakes, but she, too, is given the chance to grow into herself through it. The afflictions that torment these characters advance the overall plot, but they also advance them, as individuals, as long as they are willing to learn and keep going despite the calamities large and small that they are faced with. Beatrice keeps going after parental rejection, Mary keeps going after losing Shannon, Jillian keeps going after losing her son (in part through her own actions, adding insult to injury)... Trouble and the adaptation that follows it, if one is open enough to learn from the experience, motivates the characters, propels them forward, teaches them.

The problem of evil has occupied the minds of many a thinker throughout the ages, given how the very existence of it, evil, might call into question that of God (a good, omniscient, omnipotent one, anyway). A common way of justifying suffering (and also God), then, is by claiming, as Saint Augustine, that "God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist".

Now, it would be rather ridiculous to say of Warrior Nun that it follows in Leibniz's footsteps, also because this philosopher, expanding on the augustinian concept, attempted to defend the goodness of a real God with his "best of all possible worlds" while all we have is... Well, whatever/whoever Reya is.

But there seems to be an inclination towards some sort of optimism as a worldview nonetheless.

Betrayals reveal truth and grant knowledge (Vincent's culminates with the coming of Adriel, which allows us to know of the threat of a "Holy War" and thus prepare for it; Kristian's gives Jillian much needed insight, William's lights up the fuse for the fight to be taken more seriously...), crimes committed willingly or not open the way for Ava (Suzanne's killing of her Mother Superion causes the loss of the halo, which is transferred to Shannon, whose death opens the gates for Ava to walk through after being herself murdered by sister Frances)... The magnitude of these positive outcomes is perhaps not "balanced" when compared to the evil that brings them about, but there is still something to take out of the catastrophe.

However tragic the tones of a given event, the show itself appears to shun the predetermination that makes tragedy as a genre; if everything is connected, here it at least appears to not necessarily drag everyone into their horrible dooms.

What's more is that this lurking "optimism" matches really well with our own protagonist's personality.

And it makes perfect sense that Ava would do the best she could with whatever she is given.

Life for her, in the conditions she experienced after the accident, would have been unbearable without some sort of positive outlook on life. However deadpan, the joking and the "obscene gestures" and whatever other forms of goofing around beside Diego are a way of turning a portion of the situation in her own favour. Proverbial eggs have, after all, already been broken right and left — might as well make an omelette of whatever remains.

Humour is just another way of looking at the bright side of something, or, at the every least, of mitigating the utter horror it might bring. If the show allows for moments of lightness, if it lets us laugh, if it takes us through a perilous voyage which still bears ripe, succulent fruit instead of the rot of pessimism and its necessary contempt for humanity, it is because Ava herself sees things in this way. It isn't gratuitous or naïve in this case, but a true survival strategy, especially as it is confronted with the morbidity of Catholicism.

Here is a religion that soothes its faithful with the promise of reward in the afterlife — how else does one charge into battle against the unknown, risking one's own death along with that of one's sisters, without the balm of believing that we shall all meet again eventually, "in this life or the next"? How else does one come to terms with the ugliness and the pain of this existence if not by looking forward to a paradise perfect enough to make all trials and tribulations here worth it?

True nihilism would have annihilated Ava. Her present perspective is what avoided the abyss.

And there is nothing Panglossian to her attitude or what the show might imply by giving us her view on things. This isn't about "the best of all possible worlds", but of making the best of whatever situation we're in, of taking what we have and doing something with it, something good, something of ourselves. It isn't God making good out of evil, but our choices.

Killing innocent people and feeling no remorse will never be the best someone can aspire to do. Sister Frances, cardinal William, Adriel all learn this the hard way.

Those who do their best find that, somehow, they can move on from whatever it was that paralysed them. Ava, most of all, knows what it is to be stuck, frozen in place; she can never be the character who refuses to grow, even through pain, lest she condemns her spirit to the same fate her body is all too familiarised with. Those around her wise enough to let themselves be touched by her, by the dynamic power she carries, walk forth with her and live.

It says very little about "God" that Warrior Nun should adopt its heroine's views and seem "optimistic" as it progresses — but it speaks volumes about the values it presents for pondering, of the inspiration its protagonists provide, and of the multiple reasons why this is a story unlike most others.

#warrior nun #ava silva #you know it's actually very funny to type this as someone who is very schopenhaurian with hints of nietzsche #but i AM doing the best i can too :)#again i will reiterate that i don't think this apparent optimism has anything to do with the classic theodicy #if anything i see it more as a cry in favour of antitheism -- this is YOUR life fuck god #life is shitty so carve out your own makeshift paradise out of the wreck you are given #and don't make things harder for anyone else in the process if you can avoid it #(but that might just be the luciferian in me speaking lol)#anywho this post is a translation of one i wrote not too long ago in cryptic english and a ton of tags #so if it seems familiar that's why #also i do find it rather telling that whenever i try to delve into how the show structures things i talk about ava #i don't set out to analyse her -- but in analysing the show i must analyse her as well if by the edges #which again points to how finely woven she is to the fabric of the entire thing #remember how i said ava is a representation of free will?#well this whole bringing good out of evil thing also touches upon it #saint augustine maintains that it is precisely free will that allows us to do it -- to choose good #of course he means it in a sense of being free to pursue god rather than evil but you see the parallel still works #(this is the post i mentioned in the last reblog. figured i'd go ahead and throw it in the wild since there are more brewing)#analysis and similar #exercises in observation

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fierymiasma · 11 months

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Coming Soon: Homecoming Part 2 // Azkaban!Sebastian x f!MC

Summary: She isn't sure if allowing an escaped Azkaban convict to stay with her is a good idea.

Sebastian does everything in his power to convince her otherwise.

Tags: Slight!Choking, Dark!Sebastian, AgedUp! AU, Azkaban!Sebastian, angst, Making out, Jealous!Sebastian, Obsession, Possessiveness,

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

Part 1 Here!

"You have a magic beyond human comprehension." His breath tickled the shell of her ears. "Why continue to just sit here in Feldcroft waiting to grow old and forgotten? You and I, together...we have the strength to take what is ours." Sebastian's eyes were so dark and alluring. "Come with me. We could rule the world together. Take what is ours."

She trembled. This wasn't the Sebastian she knew from 5th year. This man before her....He was crazy. Sebastian was too dangerous for her.

But for some reason she couldn't keep away.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hphl #harry potter #sebastian sallow fic #harry potter hogwarts game #jealous!sebastian #dark!sebastian sallow #dark!sebastian

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

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↱ a fathers visit ↰

➘ summary : Masamichi Yaga raises his two children together

➘ Masamichi Yaga x reader x panda, jjk x reader

The cabin was nestled deep within the woods, far from prying eyes, a place where secrets were kept and mysteries were woven into the very fabric of its walls. (Y/N) had spent her life in this secluded haven, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the enigmatic presence of her father, Masamichi Yaga.

The old man's visits were rare, his duties as a sorcerer often pulling him in various directions. But today was different. The air crackled with a sense of anticipation as (Y/N) found herself sitting by the window, her (e/c) eyes scanning the tree line in hopes of catching the first glimpse of her father's arrival.

And then, as if in response to her silent yearning, a figure emerged from the shadows of the forest. Masamichi Yaga's tall, cloaked form cut a striking silhouette against the backdrop of the trees. His steps were measured and deliberate, his presence commanding the attention of the very earth beneath his feet.

As he drew closer to the cabin, (Y/N)'s heart quickened with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Her father was an enigmatic figure, one whose power was both awe-inspiring and tinged with an air of mystery that even she, his own daughter, couldn't completely unravel.

The door creaked open, and (Y/N) felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine as he stepped into the cabin. His gaze met hers, his eyes a swirling kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to hold secrets beyond her comprehension.

"(Y/N)," his voice was a low rumble, his words carrying an air of both affection and gravitas.

She rose from her seat, her movements graceful as she approached him. "Father, it's good to see you."

Masamichi Yaga's lips curved into a faint smile, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. "(Y/N), my dear. You continue to grow stronger with each passing day."

Her gaze met his, a mixture of curiosity and longing in her eyes. "Tell me, Father, why did you bring me into this world? What am I, born from a cursed womb?"

His eyes held a mixture of emotions—regret, sorrow, and a hint of something else that she couldn't quite decipher. "You are a testament to my power and the consequences that accompany it. You are also a vessel of potential, one that I have nurtured in the hope of shaping a better future."

(Y/N)'s heart ached with a complex blend of emotions. She had always felt a connection to the supernatural world, to the magic that flowed through her veins. Yet, her existence was intertwined with a darkness she struggled to understand.

Masamichi Yaga's hand cupped her chin, his touch both gentle and firm. "My daughter, you carry the legacy of our bloodline, a legacy of both light and shadow. Your destiny is yours to shape, to find purpose amidst the chaos."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she met his gaze, a mixture of pain and acceptance reflected in her expression. "I want to understand, Father. I want to know who I am and why I was born this way."

His smile was bittersweet, his fingers wiping away her tears. "Your journey of self-discovery has only just begun, (Y/N). And as you navigate the complexities of your existence, remember that you are not alone. I will be by your side, guiding you when needed."

With those words, Masamichi Yaga's presence seemed to dissipate, leaving behind an air of tranquility that settled within the cabin walls. (Y/N) stood there, her heart heavy with the weight of her origins, yet filled with a newfound determination to uncover the truths that had been concealed for so long.

Weeks had passed since Masamichi Yaga's last visit, but the memory of their conversation continued to echo in (Y/N)'s mind. She had spent countless hours exploring her magical abilities, delving deeper into the mysteries that surrounded her existence. The cabin had become a sanctuary of discovery and introspection.

And then, one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a rustling sound reached (Y/N)'s ears. Her heart quickened as she recognized the presence approaching. The door swung open, and her father stepped into the cabin, his aura exuding a sense of anticipation.

As she rose from her seat, her gaze caught on the small creature in his arms—a panda cub. Her (e/c) eyes widened in surprise, curiosity warring with wonder as she met her father's gaze.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice gentle as he cradled the panda in his arms. "Allow me to introduce you to your new brother."

Her gaze shifted to the panda, its innocent eyes meeting hers as it wiggled in Masamichi Yaga's embrace. A mixture of emotions swirled within her—confusion, astonishment, and a strange sense of warmth.

"A brother?" Her voice was soft, a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Her father's lips curved into a rare smile, the lines on his face softening. "Yes, (Y/N). This is Panda."

Gently, he placed the panda on the floor, allowing it to explore its new surroundings. (Y/N) crouched down, watching as the small creature waddled around, its black and white fur standing out against the wooden floor.

"Why... why did you bring him here?" (Y/N) asked, her gaze flickering between the panda and her father.

Masamichi Yaga knelt down beside her, his eyes fixed on the panda with a mixture of fondness and contemplation. "Panda has a unique connection to our world, much like you. He's not an ordinary panda; he's a spiritual creature, a guardian of balance."

(Y/N) reached out, her fingers brushing against the panda's fur as it approached her. She could sense a presence within the creature, a spark of magic that resonated with her own. "And you think he's meant to be my companion?"

Her father nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Yes, (Y/N). Much like you, Panda carries the essence of both light and shadow. He will be your companion on this journey of self-discovery, a constant reminder of the intricacies that define us."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she looked at the panda, a strange mixture of emotions bubbling within her. She had spent so long feeling isolated, grappling with the complexity of her existence. Now, in the form of this panda, she found a kindred spirit—a creature that, like her, straddled the line between realms.

"I'm not alone, am I?" Her voice held a hint of vulnerability as she met her father's gaze.

Masamichi Yaga's hand rested gently on her shoulder. "No, my dear. You are never alone. You have a family that spans beyond the conventional boundaries of blood. You have me, and now, you have Panda."

As she watched Panda explore the cabin, a new sense of purpose settled within (Y/N). She was no longer just a vessel of power and mystery; she was part of a tapestry woven from magic and connection. With Panda by her side, she was determined to embrace her journey, to uncover the truths that had eluded her, and to forge a bond that transcended the realms of light and shadow.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) found herself immersed in a new routine—one that involved not only delving into her own magical abilities but also training alongside her newfound companion, Panda. Masamichi Yaga had become a constant presence, guiding them through the intricacies of their powers and the responsibilities they carried.

In the tranquil glade beside the cabin, the trio gathered, the air charged with an aura of anticipation. (Y/N) stood by Panda's side, her (e/c) eyes focused on her father as he began to speak.

"Today, we'll focus on harnessing your connection with each other," Masamichi Yaga's voice was steady, his gaze shifting between the two beings before him. "Panda, you possess the ability to manipulate energies that bridge the spiritual and physical realms. (Y/N), your magic, too, is a blend of light and shadow, a testament to the balance you embody."

Panda tilted his head, his eyes reflecting an understanding that went beyond words. (Y/N) took a deep breath, her senses attuned to the currents of magic that enveloped her. She felt a sense of unity with Panda—a shared purpose that transcended their individual abilities.

"Focus on your connection," her father instructed. "Feel the flow of energy that binds you, the ebb and flow that resonates between light and shadow."

(Y/N)'s fingers brushed against Panda's fur, and in that simple touch, she felt a surge of energy—an intricate dance of magic that pulsed between them. Her eyes met Panda's, and she sensed a profound understanding, a bond that was forged not only by shared abilities but by the journey they were embarking upon.

As Masamichi Yaga guided them through various exercises, (Y/N) and Panda began to synchronize their movements, their magic intertwining in a display of unity. They created ethereal patterns in the air, weaving light and shadow into an intricate tapestry that reflected the very essence of their connection.

Time seemed to blur as they trained, their efforts guided by Masamichi Yaga's wisdom and experience. With each passing moment, (Y/N) felt a growing sense of confidence—a realization that her existence, born from a curse, held a power that was both potent and transformative.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and violet across the sky, their training session drew to a close. (Y/N) and Panda stood side by side, their chests rising and falling in tandem as they caught their breath.

Masamichi Yaga's smile was a testament to his pride. "You've both made remarkable progress. Remember, your abilities are a reflection of the balance you seek within yourselves. Embrace your connection, and let it guide you."

The bond that had been kindled between (Y/N) and Panda was more than just a partnership; it was a testament to the unity of magic and purpose. As they watched the stars emerge in the night sky, (Y/N) knew that her journey of self-discovery had taken on a new dimension—one that was shared with a companion who understood her in ways that no words could convey. With each step forward, they would navigate the intricacies of light and shadow, bound together by the threads of magic that wove their destinies.

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