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shy-peacock · 1 year

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I would love to see Rayamaari in an Hogwarts AU, with Raya gryffyndor and Namaari Slytherin (but rated E because yes)

I wouldn’t do rated E with them as students. So here’s-…whatever this is *tosses* also I know VERY little about hogwarts stuff- I’m a small fan. While I’m at it- I enjoyed the series but I absolutely despise that woman who wrote it. So this will be my first and last time writing a hogwarts AU 😬

Rated G-T maybe?

It couldn’t have gone down any other way.

Namaari was the pride of Slytherin, no one had bested her in a duel yet. She had worked hard for that title, had put in the hours to perfect her skill. Wanting to be the best for her house, a symbol for them to look up to.

Raya was just as good. A naturally gifted witch, the star of Gryffindor. Warm, courageous, like the fiery red colors that her house wore with pride. She was all heart in everything she did.

Their pairing could not have been more perfect. The other members of the dueling club practically buzzing with excitement at their match up, pulling in students from the hall that were passing by. All come now to watch the duel of the century.

Typically the two of them sat at the sidelines, monitoring, helping the youngest of their members with their newly learned spells. But today- they wanted a show, real examples of what dueling could look like with witches as advanced as they were.

To think this was meant to be a normal practice….

But the show was meant to go on regardless of what Namaari or Raya thought of it, each of them casting a spell of protection over the crowd- knowing how these advanced duels could send a spell array. Students both older and younger then gathered around while Raya took her position on one side and Namaari took her place at the other. Wands at the ready, giving the signature bow that all duelist must adhere to in order to claim the match an official one.

A beat.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And they began.

Magic whizzed through the air, electrifying the mock stage they had beneath their feet. Not a breath, a word or even a noise came from either witch as they shot their spells at one another. Namaari dodging one only to catch another with her wand, flinging it back and forth at her opponent as she did the same on the opposite side. The students standing around, amazed, gasps slipping from their lips and cheers from one half of the crowd when Namaari caught Raya off guard and nearly sent her flying back. An additional cheer echoing out as she maneuvered it.

Recovered, she blasted a fiery spell right along the edges of her opponent’s cloak, which Namaari dispelled with a quick flick of her wrist. She caught a wicked grin from her dueling partners face, a pause amidst the game, before they were back at it again.

Back and forth it went, Namaari feeling the heat of the duel the longer it ran. A bead of sweat ran down her temple as she rolled just out of range of Raya’s next move. Her attention laser focused, watching every tiny movement her opponent made. Good or bad. Waiting for her opportunity to gain the upper hand. Catching a misstep, an opening, where she could seal her victory.

Namaari’s hand snapped as she dug in her feet and in one fell swoop, she fired a disarming spell straight into the woman’s hand.

Raya’s wand soared into the air, caught by a student who was quick to hand it back to her- hopeful that the match was not yet finished. However, as per the rules, she was disarmed and the victory was bestowed upon Slytherin. Both Namaari and Raya knowing this, the latter tucking her wand away with a kind smile on her lips as she made to bow. A show of respect at the end of the battle.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the students with their emblem green and silver being the loudest of the bunch. Namaari found herself frozen for a moment, her mind still racing from the duel that had come to an abrupt stop. Her pulse gradually slowing, temperature cooling, until she had the sense to return the bow Raya had given her. Though the smile she wore Namaari did not display back. Not as her brain reviewed the last few moves of their duel, realizing what had happened almost immediately after it was done.

She wouldn’t dare call Raya out in front of the others. There was enough rumors going around about their rivalry that didn’t need to be stirred up in this room, not when all the students had benefited from this lesson. All of them leaving with smiles on their faces, a good show of sportsmanship that was rare between some of the oldest rivalries in this school. Happy with the outcome, more pleased by the manner of how the duel was dealt than who had won.

Namaari waited it out, allowing each and every body to file out. The club finished for the evening, leaving Namaari and Raya alone at last to clean and lock up. As the last of the students left, Namaari turned then to face Raya. Watching her from across the room, hardly staring for but a minute before Raya let out out a small chuckle.

“You’re predictable as always-“

Namaari frowned, “how so?”

Raya turned, smirking at her before turning back to the cases of wands. Packing them up properly, making sure each was handled with care.

“You’re upset. You want to talk to me, but you’re overthinking it-“ she casually mentioned, “so you’ll stand there- analyzing me, until you’ve talked yourself out of it or-…I take the lead and ask you myself.”

Namaari scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t do tha-“

“My love,” Raya teased, “you’ve done that since we were children.”

Namaari felt her face heat up in embarrassment, a wave of memories flying through her mind. Of her first days at this school, meeting Raya, becoming rivals and practically making life here absolutely miserable for the both of them. How they somehow managed to become friends, even stranger than that eventually became lovers, marriage and now they were Professors at the same school they fell in love at. Raya becoming a house leader of Gryffindor while Namaari was one of Slytherin.

And apparently-….well…she definitely knew Raya knew her like the back of her hand.

With a huff, a point of surrender, she gradually walked to her.

“Fine, I am.” Namaari stated, walking towards her. Watching as Raya continued to pack up the rest of her belongings in her bag. Rummaging inside to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “You let me win today.” Namaari added, grumbling, “I don’t want to be handed a victory- I want to earn it.”

Raya gave her a lopsided grin, “I know you don’t-“

“So why did you-?”

“Because the Slytherin students needed a win.”

Namaari paused, considering this, and in that moment Raya turned to face her. Leaning against the desks that held the wands in their case, folding her arms.

“I’m not just a Professor for Gryffindor students, love.” She continued, “and Slytherin took a heavy hit at the quidditch tournaments this year- I’ve seen a lot of the most passionate students lose their edge cause of it, like they’ve been in a slump because of the fall of their ranks.”

Namaari nodded, agreeing, recalling the day her house had been changed from their high place of first to the sunken low of last place amongst the other houses. It was not an easy loss, though Namaari had chalked it up to being a good lesson on humility. Though the loss was ages ago now, so maybe Raya was right? Perhaps they did need a pick-me-up to set their spirits right again.

Raya wore a smug grin as Namaari relaxed, her minor irritation webbing away as she came to her. Knowing she was right, seeing it now as her demeanor changed then. Wrapping her arms around her wife while Raya continued to check the desk, her bag and anything else she may have forgot. Namaari’s head resting against her shoulder, hugging her close.

“You could have told me-…” Namaari grumbled, trying to stay mad though the tone in her voice was far from it, “you completely caught me off guard with the whole thing-…I bet you even proposed the idea to the students too, huh?”

“Possibly-“ Raya chirped, “but I did want to see if you could beat me on your own at first, it has been awhile since we’ve matched up like that.“

Namaari couldn’t recall a time since their student days, though she was sure there was at least once or twice they must have clashed wands. As far as the record goes, Namaari was quite certain she had claimed the victory then.

“I could have, you know-“ she pointed out, “I could have beaten you fair and square if not for the students-“

Raya scoffed and turned in her arms till she was facing her wife, “oh so if they weren’t here, you think you could have won easily, huh?”

Namaari smirked, seeing how this one comment riled her up. Setting her mind to do it again, teasing her.

“I’d have won in the first five seconds-!” Namaari boasted, “I was holding back anyways, given some of the spells were way too advanced and-“

“That sounds like you’re challenging me for a rematch-?” Raya pointed out, “are you?”

Namaari laughed.

“We have another hour before we have to meet in the great hall?”

Raya smirked, moving Namaari’s hands back as she once again grabbed for her wand and walked the space of the room. Her shoes clacking loudly, determination in her step.

Namaari followed to her own space, raising her wand at the ready. Bowing, awaiting Raya to return it, then rising once more to begin.

“Ready for me, love?” Raya shot her way, arching an eyebrow in her direction.

Namaari could feel the rise of magic moving through the air, her body thrumming in anticipation at the coming duel. Knowing it didn’t matter the winner or loser of it, only that it was Raya she got to do this with again and again.

“Always.” Namaari answered, right as the duel began.

#rayamaari #rayaari #raymaari

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speakfreely000 · 2 years

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Today's Topic: Responsibility & Accountability

Today's topic comes from something we talked about in my group yesterday, and it really spoke to me. I wasn't sure if these 2 things were the same things, but my boyfriend did point out: "When you do something or anything, and it messes up, you are "Responsible" for the outcomes that unfold (in some instances, you are not. Just wanted to add that). When you are wanting to do something or not, you will hold yourself "Accountable".

Some of us are responsible for a lot, and others so little. Either way, you are showing yourself you're capable of taking care of something. This is precisely why I like having cats and I have 4, (Yes, please pray for me) because I am showing actions of responsibility every day when I feed them or clean their litter box. They depend on me and my boyfriend for that, so we have to maintain responsibility and hold each other accountable to do that for them.

When I was in active use, I was not responsible AT ALL. I would go days without cleaning my house or anything in it. This went on for YEARS. I didn't have a good system for myself in place because, drugs and alcohol were consuming every bit of my time. I wasn't responsible for myself as far as, my health, my bills, or my relationships.

I've gotten a DUI, missed a court date because I was on percocets, ran my car into a wall causing me to get the DUI. I've not taken care of my bills which has had me get 3 evictions and to lose my car not once but THREE times. I've OD'ed on many drugs before I stopped completely. I basically ruined A LOT just for some stupid bullshit drugs. Like I mentioned in a previous blog, God took it all from me because I couldn't take care of my shit, or maybe that I didn't want to.

Sometimes we see responsibility as a chore or an obligation that we don't want. I was in the mindset that I would never grow up, and that was hurting me more than I knew because you DO have to grow up and be an adult and do adult things. Some of us are bestowed with great responsibility, and some wish they could have the list lessened. God doesn't give us something we can't handle. That's our mental saying we can't do it. We have to strengthen it like a muscle.

As far as holding yourself accountable, a lot of us missed that memo time and time again. I know I am guilty of it 100x over. When in my active use, I NEVER held myself accountable. I became the poster child for "Victim Mentality". I would blame others or God for my problems, and that I will always be sick and never get better. At some point, I had to hold myself accountable and look into the mirror. It's never fun or easy, but it has to be done in order to grow and flourish. In my past, at a "church" I used to attend, we had something called "Accountability Partners". This could be a couple, friends, co-workers or siblings. Regardless, we had to keep that person to their word of whatever they said they were going to do.

We have to be that for ourselves sometimes. We forget to. It helps to have someone though, because sometimes you can't do everything all at once by yourself. I have my boyfriend, who has been keeping me in check the last few days regarding my sobriety. If it weren't for him and God I would probably be dead or in jail right now. And even though my boyfriend started being accountable with me first, I have learned to do that myself. So when he's gone at work, I won't have a cow.

The lesson for this is to be responsible and accountable for your own actions and thoughts. People can do these for you, but watch how tiring it gets and at some point you would have to stand on your own 2 feet with that. Don't get complacent in yourself. Push yourself to do the things you know you need to do, you will feel better from it, and thank yourself later. We have to maintain the positive, productive way that we live because one time of slacking off can turn into a nasty habit that you don't want.

Exercise/Homework for this topic:

Think of all that you're responsible for. Stick some post it notes as reminders so you won't forget to maintain the productivity. Get a whiteboard calendar, like I have, so you can visualize all that needs to be done. Put reminders in your phone or alarms if it works better for you.

Find an accountability partner, whether that be: a girlfriend/boyfriend, sibling, co-worker or church friend. Come up with things that you guys can hold each other accountable for that you are wanting to do or not do. You can meet up with this person however many days a week to go over what you guys have, or phone calls work too. I'd like to see us engaged and involved with our fellow human beings and start healthy habits like having accountability partners! Who knows? You might meet a new friend at church, work or school and this is the invitation to have for them become a new friend who can work with you on accountability, you guys can strengthen each other AND maybe come to find God, who gives us all of this through his word and his vessels (His people).

*I know for my exercises some people are not able to write down their lists or homework I give on the topic. I have since switched to typing my affirmations on my laptop. You could do this on your phone, whiteboard, or anything where you're able to input these great exercises/homework. I want this to work the best for my readers because this is all for you and some for me, I can't lie.*

Thank you again my fellow readers, I love doing this every day it gives my brain time to let all the thoughts out. Please feel free to DM me with any requests for topics you want covered. Or email me directly at [email protected]

Have a great day today and let's be responsible and accountable for ourselves and others if they're willing!

-Mariah

#writing #blog #blogger #blogging #tumblr poets #freewriting #selflove #mentalhealth

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moved-to-void-kissed · 3 years

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What Can and Cannot Return

In a quiet moment shared while Pavo is healing Ardea’s combat injuries, the two share a nervous exchange about Ardea’s loss of her Celestrian powers in the face of the fact that Pavo still retains hers. (1091 words)

Here is my piece for the twenty-sixth day of sapphic September - I was originally going to portray the scene as a render using MMD, but the models just were not cooperating nicely, so I spat out this little bit of writing instead. I hope it's still alright, even if it may or may not have been slightly rushed, haha!~

Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required! If the link to the document doesn't work properly, then there is also a transcript of it under the readmore.

“..Do you mean it, when you say it does not faze you?”

It was a quiet and peaceful night as the two young women sat next to the flickering campfire. Although the party had been too tired from fighting to travel any further that day, the faint glow of torches - and with them, people - could be seen on the edge of the horizon; they would be able to properly rest in an inn soon, but for the moment, they had to make do in the open air for another night. A short distance away from the pair, a girl with bright teal hair was curled up in sleep with her extravagant dress blanketing her in a thousand colours, while a much taller individual was resting with their back to a tree stump, and even now their spear and knife still lay within easy reach.

The question was not an accusatory one, instead settling quietly into the scene, but it still made the blonde-haired girl look away and out into the darkness for a moment. She was dressed in the textbook attire of a martial artist, with a red and gold top emblazoned with the logo of a dragon over a fitted black shirt and slick slacks. Her hands were wrapped with black fabric, and the kite’s claws they usually carried were tucked away safely in her equipment bag. Her left arm was raised and in the grasp of the other girl, whose short white hair fell over her face slightly as a glow of teal magic emanated from her palms.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the martial artist, whose gaze had now flickered back to her partner.

“I believe you know what I refer to, Ardea.” she replied, still focusing on healing the wound on Ardea’s arm. It was not a serious injury, and even now was healing rapidly thanks to her spells, but it was nevertheless something that required attention. “The fact that we once shared the same abilities, and now, you have lost what you once wielded as second nature.”

“Mmm..” was all that Ardea said in response, glancing over to check that the other two were definitely asleep before continuing. “Well, it’s true that it was difficult to adapt to at the beginning, but.. We’ve come quite far now, haven’t we? So I’ve had time to adjust to the situation.”

This brought a smile to Pavo’s face, but there was still a sense of unease in her expression. “So, it is not true that you are.. jealous of me, or- anything of the sort?”

“What?” At this, Ardea turned around with a start, causing Pavo to lose hold of her arm. “Ah- My apologies!”

“Do not worry - I had already dealt with your injuries.”

“Ah, yes, I realise that now.. Thank you kindly..” Ardea muttered, moving her now woundless arm without difficulty. Then she returned to the matter at hand. “But, Pavo, whatever do you mean?”

The Celestrian looked away at this, and her wings instinctively curled closer to her body in a large sheet of white feathers. “It is just that.. You have lost the ability to use any of the magic of Celestrians, as well as both your wings and your halo, and the boons that they bestow upon you. When we happened across the carriage of the Starflight Express in that forest, it did not even react to your presence at first. Thankfully, the benevolessence we have acquired by you offering our assistance to those in peril has restored that final aspect, but.. not any of your other abilities."

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then continued before Ardea could interject.

"As for myself, on the other hand.. Though the long time I have spent upon the Protectorate has weakened my connection to the Observatory, and rendered my presence visible to mortals, all other characteristics that Celestrians bear, I have retained. The story we tell that I am a mortal sage appears satisfactory to explain my powers, at least to our adventuring companions-” - she glanced over at the sleeping pair upon saying this - “-it nevertheless does not change the fact that I wield my powers on a regular basis in combat, as I have always done since my teacher imparted these skills to me, while you have had to take on an entirely unfamiliar vocation in order to maintain appearances. So, at times, I have feared that you having to witness me freely use the selfsame powers you once shared, yet no longer can use, would perhaps be unfair.."

An expression of surprise mixed with confusion clouded Ardea’s face. "Pavo, I- I don't understand.. How long have you felt this way?"

"..It was not a recent fear." she admitted.

"Oh, in the name of the Almighty-“ In one movement, Ardea had shifted her position and launched herself with considerable vigour into the unsuspecting arms of her girlfriend. Pavo’s brief sounds of uncertainly were quickly dulled, and she instinctively clung to Ardea in return.

“Angel, listen to me for a moment, please. That is not at all how I feel, and it never has been, either - if anything, seeing you use your Celestrian abilities is part of what motivates me to find a way to get mine back. Besides, I haven't lost everything - my reflexes and agility are still leagues above those of the mortals, regardless of not having wings anymore. Isn't that right?"

"..Yes, I suppose that is very true."

"And, anyway," she continued, "I still think of myself as a Celestrian, because I am. That's what I have always been, and that will never change, regardless of what happens to me. The same is true for you, too - even after we ascend to the Realm of the Almighty, we will still be Celestrians, no matter what becomes of us. And we will still be together, too, no matter what becomes of us. Does that help?"

"Ah, that.. That does bring some relief, I admit." She turned to face the campfire with a soft and grateful smile. "Thank you, Ardea, my love. I truly appreciate your words.."

"It's never a problem, angel. I'm just sorry I didn't realise you felt that way, so I could help sort things out earlier on."

"Please, do not worry. I apologise for not confiding in you before now." she replied.

"There's no need to worry about that now, Pavo. Come on, let's get some rest."

And as the moon shone overhead, the pair settled comfortably into each other's embrace to rest by the fire.

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foxghost · 3 years

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Joyful Reunion, Chapter 96

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 3, Chapter 21 (Part 6)

There’s a burly man standing to the side of the wrestler, and in the middle of the winter, and it’s the Twelfth month no less, he’s stripped to the waist. With a figure that dwarfs even Chang Liujun’s, and a hefty, muscular face, he’s looking the assassins standing across from him up and down with disdain.

“Wonderful!”

As someone gets thrown onto the ground, Cai Yan laughs, leading the crowd in a round of applause. The rest of the functionaries nod along with Mu Kuangda in approval.

The Mongolian Envoy gives Cai Yan a nod, and Cai Yan bestows the winning warrior a cup of wine. The warrior comes up and thanks Cai Yan.

“After waiting for so long,” the envoy says, “we’ve finally managed to meet Your Majesty and Your Highness. It’ll be quite the thing to boast about in front of our people when we get back.”

“Of course I’m very glad that you’ve come such a long way to celebrate my son’s birthday,” Li Yanqiu replies. "As the capital’s relocation was not settled ere now, we did not have time to receive your delegation.”

Duan Ling and Mu Qing step down from the winding gallery into the garden. There are many flowering trees planted in the garden, and Mu Qing is about to walk farther in when Duan Ling tugs at his sleeve to let him know this is far enough. The Black Armours standing on guard outside are about to drive them off as they approach, but Xie You is walking towards them from the other end of the gallery, and he gestures at the guards.

That’s why they get to stand behind the flowering bushes to listen to the goings on inside. Through the bushes, he can even see Wu Du spacing out ten steps away.

Cai Yan says, “I did read the last letter he sent, but as governmental affairs have been taking up all of my time, I haven’t had a chance to write a reply. Now that there’s an imperial order as well, I’ll trouble you to bring it back along with the letter.”

The envoy immediately replies, “That’s wonderful. Our crown prince has told us that we must bring his blessings to Your Highness by your birthday and to ask for a letter in reply.”

“What blessing?” Cai Yan smiles. “I’m surprised that Batu still thinks of me.”

“His Highness said that though you’re ten thousand miles apart,” the envoy says solemnly, “he’s gazing at the southern region from afar and celebrating Your Highness’s birthday today in order to commemorate the bond that was formed between you at the Illustrious Hall.”

Cai Yan gently smiles, heaves a sigh, and shakes his head.

“His Highness had a dish specifically prepared. It’s called the ‘Cai Dog’, and he told us that we must make sure to present it to Your Highness today.”2

Cai Yan’s smile freezes in an instant.

“I had been told that your people don’t eat dog meat, or is that untrue?” An official asks.

Those words have been rather baffling, and most of those present can’t quite comprehend what the envoy is saying, but upon observing the expression on Cai Yan’s face, the envoy begins to smile. “It’s true, we don’t eat dog meat. Dogs are our faithful friends, and in order to commemorate the work dogs do for us, we have kneaded leafy vegetable juice into dough, moulded them into dog-shaped buns that are then steamed. They are thereupon distributed to the commoners as a sign of good luck.”

Duan Ling digests these words in silence.

Batu has definitely taught his envoy to say these words; he wonders what the look on Cai Yan’s face is right now. The truth will out as they say, and no matter how much Cai Yan tries to hide things, some people are bound to find out eventually. Duan Ling finds this funny, but he can also feel that Batu’s wrath is just about to throw itself in Cai Yan’s face from ten thousand miles away — that’s the only reason he’s taught the envoy to say these series of malicious words in order to provoke Cai Yan. As for whether it’s a threat or simply a taunt, he has no idea.

“Please, bring it forward.” The envoy raises his hand.

And so the servants bring forward two platters filled with dog-shaped steamed bread, mottled-green in colour, setting them down in front of Cai Yan.

Cai Yan’s expression is seriously turning green one moment and white the next. He forces a smile, “How thoughtful of him.”

Everyone is finding this quite funny, but among those present who are in the know, only Lang Junxia is aware of Can Yan’s nickname, while Wu Du could make several guesses. Lang Junxia turns his head to give Wu Du a look that speaks volumes, but Wu Du ignores him, and instead he glances over at the flowering bushes across from him and suddenly spies Duan Ling peering from behind the bushes, trying to get a better view.

“Mongolian customs are certainly interesting,” Cai Yan says to Li Yanqiu. “Borjigin has always been very cordial when we were in Shangjing.”

Li Yanqiu nods; the envoy adds, “His Highness sincerely wishes to ask Your Highness for a handwritten letter in order to soothe his yearning for you.”

As soon as he says this, everyone starts to laugh, thinking to themselves that this barbarian’s trying to speak Han, but even his vocabulary is wrong.

Cai Yan lets out a breath. “Since that’s the case, let’s get some ink and paper out here.”

Lang Junxia steps forward, “It’s freezing and Your Highness’s hands are going to get cold. There’s no need to do this yourself. I can write on your behalf.”

The envoy seems to be thinking about this, and as he’s about to speak, Lang Junxia cuts in, “It’s been many years and I rather miss His Highness as well. He should be eighteen by now — is he married yet?”

“His Highness is out on the battlefield fighting for the Khan. As a highly valued grandson of the Khan, he is not yet engaged.”

Lang Junxia gives Li Yanqiu and Cai Yan a bow before he takes a seat set at the side of the pavilion, and taking the brush and ink, he begins to write. Cai Yan easily comes up with a few conventional greetings, and Lang Junxia writes them down; it’s no more than things that happened during their years at the Illustrious Hall, and the letter begins with reminiscing before the subject turns to the relations between their empires.

From behind the bushes, Duan Ling’s mouth quirks in a slight smile as he listens. He can’t see the look on the envoy’s face but he already knows that Batu has become aware that Cai Yan is impersonating him. He has no idea how Batu has managed to guess though.

Soon, the envoy is bringing up certain topics regarding their time at the Illustrious Hall, passing on Batu’s words. He speaks of the Illustrious Hall’s headmaster, as well as Helian Bo, testing him between the lines. To his surprise, Cai Yan manages to respond to all these inquiries flawlessly.

“Our crown prince also wanted to know if Your Highness has met with Zongzhen.”

“I nearly got dragged to Shangjing and became a study partner for him.” Cai Yan smiles as he answers, then he heaves a sigh. “Destiny does make such fools of us. If I really did end up going, maybe dad would still be here, and we’ll all be alive.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, silence falls over the garden.

“Your Majesty?” Mu Jinzhi says very quietly.

“Rong’er,” Li Yanqiu says, “don’t think about that all the time anymore. How many times have I told you that already?”

“Yes,” that’s all Cai Yan can say.

Listening to all this quietly from behind the bushes, Duan Ling feels rather complicated all of a sudden. As he looks up, his eyes meet Wu Du’s through the leaves to find Wu Du watching him, his gaze full of tenderness.

“His Highness would also like to ask if Your Highness finds him more to your liking, or finds Yelü Zongzhen more to your liking.”

And now everyone is feeling even more awkward, all of them are finding that it’s such a humorous way to ask this question. And so Cai Yan says to Li Yanqiu, “Mongolians are all like this, straight arrows.”

“Seems like Yelü Zongzhen and Borjigin often vied for your affections,” Li Yanqiu jests, “it seems you get along with others well.”

Cai Yan immediately denies this humbly, and says to the envoy, “Naturally, I’m closer to your crown prince.”

Mu Kuangda’s expression darkens and he coughs, but Cai Yan is pretending he hasn’t heard, and continue to say to the envoy, “We really have no idea where the sword of your realm is, but if we do manage to find it, it’ll surely be an honour for us to return it. Wuluohou Mu, do put that in the letter as well.”

Lang Junxia finishes writing the letter and gives it to Cai Yan. Cai Yan takes the seal from his attendant, and puts his stamp in the bottom left corner.

The envoy says cheerfully, “Though it’s not in Your Highness’s handwriting, upon my return, I can at least say my mission is complete.”

“Is there anything else that Borjigin would like to say to me?”

The envoy falls quiet for a moment, and he looks this way and that as though he would like to say something. At that moment, Duan Ling keeps getting this feeling that the envoy still has other plans.

But to their surprise, Li Yanqiu says, “It is cold and the days are short. You should return to the palace while it’s still early. Come over in the evening, and let’s talk.”

Cai Yan hurriedly acquiesces, and Li Yanqiu gets up without saying anything more; everyone bows to see him out. After Cai Yan sees Li Yanqiu and Mu Jinzhi off, he doesn’t take his seat again, but remains standing, glancing over at the envoy. An attendant steps up to him; it is the new arrival Feng, who says to the envoy, “Do you have anything else to say? If you do not, His Highness will be leaving as well.”

Li Yanqiu’s departure seems to have left the envoy’s plans in disarray. Cai Yan says, “If there’s anything else, please speak with Chancellor Mu. Passing your message onto these officials here is tantamount to passing it to me.”

The envoy looks over at the assassins standing farther down. “Our crown prince would like to have a wrestling match with Your Highness once more.”

“What?” Cai Yan’s face clearly shows how impatient he feels, and suddenly he gets suspicious that he may be falling for some trick. His gaze sweeps over the envoy’s Mongolian attendants, questioning whether Batu has come along with the group in disguise — it’s not an impossibility.

Paranoid, Cai Yan is still looking the Mongolian envoy’s attendants up and down. “It’s not like he’s come, so how are we supposed to wrestle?” He says, while at the same time he’s fully preparing for Batu to show himself.

Fortunately the envoy is replying with a smile, “Oh? Does that mean Your Highness is agreeing to a match?”

Oh, Cai Yan, you idiot, Duan Ling thinks. Even when Borjigin doesn’t show up he can still prank you like this, which makes me wonder whether it’s fortunate or unfortunate that you ended up sitting in that position.

Cai Yan’s mind is in utter chaos, feeling that anything he may say could be used against him. Luckily, Mu Kuangda cuts in now with a smile, “If so, then why not let us each choose one of our own to represent His Highness and your crown prince, and get a good match in? Once we’ve fully enjoyed ourselves we can all go home, and not have to stand here in the cold all day. I’m an old man, not like you young folks who grew up in the north.”

The envoy says, “That’s exactly what we were meaning to do. Our best warrior Amga will represent our crown prince. But I wonder which warrior will fight for the Empire of Chen?”

Nobody says anything. You’ve got to be kidding — act like clowns and wrestle with a boorish fool? That’s just downright humiliation.

Duan Ling knows the envoy will definitely say something like “in all the vast territories of Chen, is there no one who’d dare wrestle with one of our warriors” or some such. The kind of stuff that comes out of Batu’s head, well, Duan Ling knows that like the back of his own hand.

“Which warrior?” Being here at all makes Cai Yan flustered and irritable; he wishes the fight would be over already so he can leave. The longer this goes on, the more likely they’ll see flaws in his act.

“Chang Liujun,” Mu Kuangda says.

Chang Liujun is about to answer, but then Wu Du has taken a step forward. “Then do allow me to spar with your warrior on His Highness’s behalf.”

Duan Ling’s heart sharply rises up to this throat. Mu Qing doesn’t even know what to say, his expression clearly expressing “why is he so keen on showing off” as he looks at Duan Ling. But Duan Ling knows that the “His Highness” in Wu Du’s mouth refers to him, and not Cai Yan. In Wu Du’s eyes, the real main character of this formal birthday celebration visit has been standing behind the bushes — the Duan Ling who hasn��t shown himself.

“Wu Du has not fully recovered from his injuries.” Zheng Yan says languidly, “I better take his place.”

“There’s no need to trouble the two of you.” Lang Junxia gives Cai Yan a nod.

“How about this …” Cai Yan’s head spins through a series of possibilities and says, “Wu Du’s injuries haven’t fully healed, so why not …”

But Wu Du disregards everyone else in the garden, and draws the Lieguangjian from its sheath by his waist. A bright metallic whistling rings through the area. Suddenly, all goes quiet.

Mu Kuangda says with alarm, “Wu Du!”

At Wu Du’s provocation, the expression of the warrior from the other side immediately darkens.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Cai (Cai Yan’s last name) and Cai (vegetable) are homonyms; “Cai Dog” was also what Batu used to call Cai Yan when they were kids. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Text

An Educational Favour: II

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Pesci x reader but also Risotto, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, lotsa pesci praising and face riding

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -7

PART II: 🎣Pesci 🎣

“He hasn’t told you anything?” Your surprise obvious as those eager eyes widened, pacing around the confined office of your capo. It didn’t make you apprehensive of your next guest but it was nice to get at least a feel for what was in store. “He’s never told me. Just ask him, he’ll probably tell you after some muttering.” A flat, unamused reply like you were discussing the best course of action for an upcoming mission. Maybe it was a mission, it surely felt invigorating. It had been a little while since you’d taken Illuso, the man who pleased you so well, if only during the act. But what your stoic colleague advised you, stuck around. You’d demand to be taken care of, knowing it’s what you deserved. Of course you’d gladly return the favour to your next partner, the shy and stumbling mammone, Pesci. He’d let fall he wasn’t a virgin anymore some time ago, but no more details were released, making you curious what the green tufted man desired. Perhaps it was time to work on your communication skills today.

This time around you hadn’t even bothered to wear a bra, letting yourself move freely under the shirt and shorts you wore so often around the base. It only amplified that bubbly innocence you possessed, but your actions and desires proved that vision wrong. You were almost skipping through the house to collect Pesci from the living room who looked deep into conversation, more on the listening side now, with Prosciutto quietly seeming to advise him with his arm swung over his shoulder. “Evening, gentlemen.” You greeted politely, flashing a cute smile to both of them as excited bubbles moved through your middle at the sight of Pesci already blushing. It didn’t help that you’d been leaning so eagerly, pressing your breasts together, offering the men a cheeky view without even realising. The blonde letting go of his underling and offering you a harsh steel glare, a curt nod being returned, unfazed by your appearance. You reached your hand out to the nervous man, courage leading you to him, letting your fingers flutter right before him, kindly asking to accept the offer. And so he did, standing up from his chair and letting you lead him further away from the comfort of his aniki, instead going to your room where your tutor had been waiting. Taking charge, leading and having such a malleable partner made heat start to tickle your insides. Curious to see if the night would continue like this.

Pesci still seemed overwhelmed as he noticed the harsh gaze of his capo, those dark eyes so intimidatingly taking in every bit of the scene before him. Sensing his hesitation as his reddened face didn’t dare to look at you, choosing the ground instead as you held onto his hand, never having let go since leading him here. “Are you feeling ok, Pesci? Do you still want to do this?” You nudged his side with the intertwined hands, a small squeak erupting from him. “Y-yes. I’m just nervous.” He muttered, daring to finally meet your compassionate gaze that asked him not to be so afraid. “It’s ok we’ll take our time. You’ve been quite secretive about your likes… do you want me to do something special?” The curiosity inside taking the lead, eager to get things started as you felt Risotto’s gaze lighten and the heavy aura surrounding him soften, like he was glad to see you be so open. “You look really pretty… and-“ he rushed out the compliment in that confident tone he used after Prosciutto offered him another pep talk. It let you know he was trying his very best, feeling a bit bashful at the sweet words, not usually one so easily impacted by those but the way he was so cutely trying made you even hungrier for what was to come.

You felt a new sensation of wanting to please the broad man in front of you, coaxing out the lewdest moans possible. But he hadn’t answered your query, maybe avoiding the topic for a bit longer but you were starting to get impatient. Letting go of the clammy hand you’d held onto for so long and quickly smiling at Risotto behind you who slouched unamused, awaiting action. It was a sign you’d be taking the lead today, uncharted territory ready to be explored. A lustful idea inspired by Illuso’s dirty words from last time set you in motion. You crooked a cheeky finger towards Pesci, beckoning him closer. The nervous one bending forward with a hasty look to comply. “Do you want me to suck your cock, Pesci? Would you like that?” Soft lips grazing the shell of his ear as you crooned the naughty words, erupting a small gasp from the man you were teasing.

He fervently nodded his head up and down, his little palm shaped tufts bobbing along, growing ten shades of crimson darker and feeling his unitard tighten as his member hardened further. No need to worry, the walk to your room had rubbed him so nicely, the anticipation having made him excited already. It felt so deliciously titillating to speak in such a hazy manner. “Could you take off your clothes, please?” The devilish innocence lacing your words even surprised Risotto, he knew by now you were no angel, but to already be so tainted? It only impressed him how quickly you’d learned, curious to know how you’d react to his orders.

Pesci did as he was asked, shivering slightly as his leaking head got used to the chilly air. His length was shorter than your previous partner, but it presented a wider girth, making saliva gather at the thought of having it in your mouth for the first time. You were itching to find out how good you’d do, having curiously tried it out on popsicles in the past. Offering a nice view for your comrade, your shirt flung off to reveal your pretty chest to him as you got down on your knees to meet his length. Pesci wasn’t much taller than you, perhaps if you were wearing heals you’d reach higher. So it caused you no pain or strain to seize his awaiting member, the sight making wetness gather in your panties. An inquisitive hand coming over to grip his base, a wince erupting from above.

“Did that feel good?” You inquired, hoping it was of pleasure and not pain. “Y-yes, m-more please.” He stuttered while holding his breath, not so confident in his ability to hold back from coming already, having had little experience in situations like these. “You’re such a good boy, Pesci.” A soft kiss placed on his leaking head as you complemented him, earning a moan this time, it sounded so sweet, only making you want to hear it again. He tasted similar to Illuso, maybe a bit more neutral, perhaps it was his better attitude. Another gentle kiss, your plush lips wet with saliva that had been building up, trailing more of them down his length as you gripped the base still. Slowly but surely you started pumping his shaft a little, all the while suckling on the soft head, cheeks bending inwards before you released with a pop, sending an energetic shiver down his body.

Deciding to let go and ready yourself to take him in your mouth fully, he wasn’t that big so maybe you’d succeed like you did with the icy treats before. Slowly commencing, letting your lips envelop his tip before moving further and further carefully. Your tongue flatly supporting and grazing the underside. Before long you had him enveloped completely, starting to move your tongue to please him. “Ahhn..” Another sweet moan as you passed a vein, remembering where it was located to earn another one. You moved up and down his length, hollowed cheeks suctioning his cock and enjoying the feeling of the slight tickle in your throat as he neared your limit. Growing more and more comfortable with every move you increased speed and motions, feeling him twitch inside you, your moan only sending the sound straight through him, almost making him come just from the vibrations.

He was getting dangerously close and not quite sure if you’d like it. “Can I come?” He asked so meekly it made your heart beat faster. “Of course you can, you’re doing so good, Pesci.” You could see his face contort and deducted your words alone helped him reach his orgasm. Swiftly you took him back inside, wanting to taste him and feel the texture in your curious mouth. Just in time you caught his droplets, milking every last bead as he groaned and mewled with your ministrations. The taste still wasn’t as good as you hoped but one quick swallow later and you’d taken it all in, the feeling of it moving through your throat tickling your wet core, making goosebumps appear all over again.

Pesci’s heavy breaths could be heard, droplets of sweat covering his forehead as his balled fists relaxed, he’d barely moved throughout your sucking. “Was that good?” The question wasn’t pointed at anyone in the room, hoping the see if Risotto had any advice or assurance to lend. Pesci nodded rapidly again, his stare so adoringly taking you in. “Can you sit on my face… please?” The small sounding suggestion making you press your thighs together in anticipation. “You’re so sweet, of course.” The thought alone making your panties serve no purpose other than dirty laundry, quickly shuffling out of them, the lewd request making you giddy.

A sweet, hungry gaze followed your curves and movements as you positioned yourself above his face where he so kindly asked you to take a seat. It would be the first time someone were to bestow their mouth onto your folds. Your thighs shielding his head between them, worrying if he was comfortable. “Is this ok?” Lowering yourself over the underside of his face, cautious hands holding onto your thighs with a gentle grip, keeping you in place. A soft muffled agreeable sound heard from underneath while the vibrations tickled you, making you grip onto the bed frame for balance as his mouth started to move between your sweet lips.

The previously nervous man now seeming focused on his task and succeeding greatly as his tongue moved to lap at your throbbing clit that had so patiently awaited attention. You moaned unembarrassed as he kept suckling around the bud making you buck into his mouth out of reflex. Pesci’s nose was breathing out hot air heavily, tickling your mound, only adding to all the pleasurable sensations. The squelching sounds and your pants filling the atmosphere, looking to your side, not much further than an arm length away was Risotto, still observing the scene as you ground your hips further into Pesci’s eager mouth. He could sense the desire in your gaze, asking him to please himself again, not wanting your beloved capo to be left out of indulging.

As the man below you lapped at your craving hole, drinking you in so nicely and enjoying every sip of your essence, eyes still fixated on your capo who had begun his strokes. His length was still so impressionable as he worked his fist up and down, mimicking the speed of your hips, the sight only feeding into your hunger. Risotto’s dark lustful gaze had been taking in the way your tits were so nicely bouncing with every thrust of your hips, that eager bright look of yours so enticing. It made him question how good you’d taste.

Like a spool of thread unravelling you felt your orgasm creep up, Pesci moaning into your core as he kept going, for someone so usually hesitant and nervous, he was proving to be confident and very capable of pleasing you. “M-more, more Pesci!” Words slurring as you gripped the iron bed frame tighter, pinching your eyes shut as he moved faster underneath you, his hands pushing you further into him as he sucked and lapped at your bundle of nerves, focusing all his attention on it. The spool had reached its end, completely unraveled, the waves of pleasure like none you’d felt before moving through you. For a moment you stopped breathing, gasping for air as you let out short pant after pant so you wouldn’t pass out. The feeling had been so intense you didn’t dare open your eyes or even move again as your legs shook and clamped the head between them tightly.

Risotto stopped his pumping, concerned that you were quietly frozen and breathing irregularly. He’d almost come over to tap you out of it but before he could, you breathed out a long gasp, thighs relaxing around Pesci’s head while they trembled and you tried your best to regain vision. “Are you alright?” Pesci asked, voice full of concern thinking he’d done something wrong as he moved you down to rest on his chest. “Uhum, I-I just… need a minute.” Regaining a sense of reality after the most intense waves of pleasure ever had taken hold of your body, slinking down next to your green haired teammate, laying your head on his sweaty chest. Your sensitive core still grasping and pulsing around nothing as the pleasure ebbed slowly.

But the confidence he had in pleasing you was already sneaking away as he awkwardly cradled your figure against him. Soft pets on your arm, self-conscious thoughts bringing him down from his high of pleasing you, wanting to get dressed again, feeling Risotto’s stare bore a hole through him. “It’s ok Pesci, you can go if you want. You’re such a good boy, thank you.” You mumbled against his chest when you felt him tense up. “I’m sorry. No, I should be thanking you, it was really fun-” that usual tremble in his goofy voice fully restored as he gently slid out from under you to redress himself, avoiding all eye contact with his capo, quickly exiting after your permission. Too weary to indulge in pep talks to lift his spirits, perhaps it was for the better to let him go for now. Knowing Risotto would still be here was enough.

“Did you…?” You gestured your finger up and down tiredly at Risotto, too exhausted from the orgasm to conjure up a more comprehensible sentence as you slid your blanket over yourself for warmth. “No. I thought you passed out for a second…” his voice grumbled, it was more at his concern for you, glad to see you still breathing and satisfied. “You feeling alright? You got really confident at talking back there.” You felt the mattress dip as his weight took place on it. “Just dandy...t’was fun.” Eyes still resting as you curled into yourself with a dopey smile on your lips, wondering if Risotto would cuddle with you if you asked. Knowing he was there the whole time had always kept you calm and assured. “Good. Who knew he had it in him?” Your capo muttered, debating on wether or not to stroke your back and caress your face, telling you how sweet you looked while commending Pesci. But he knew he shouldn’t, stopping himself from making the situation any more complicated than it needed to be. The amount of restraint he practiced around you kept reaching new heights.

Somehow you found yourself in the same place as last time, relaxing in the bubbles of Risotto’s bathtub, left to reflect on your night. He’d carried you to the bath, whispering you needed one as his muscled arms gently slid you inside the warm water. You’d roused from your haze as he closed the door, accepting the comfort as a quiet “thanks” left your lips. Never in your wildest dreams did you think Pesci could make you come that hard, the man surely surprised you. The way he so cutely responded to your praise only making you want to do it again, wondering if that dark eyed capo would like it too.

It had been another day and another chapter of knowledge added to the library of desires in your mind. You sleepily wondered when your legs would stop feeling like jello as you felt yourself drift off again.

#our mans pesci comin throughhh #la squadra x reader #pesci x reader #risotto x reader #jjba x reader #jjba fic #jjba smut #not sfw #la squadra #jjba x y/n #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #pesci #risotto nero #minors dni

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freckledoriya · 4 years

Text

“say yes to the dress” (midoriya x reader)

WARNINGS: none, just fluff!

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY: Shopping for your wedding dress with your fiancé brings up old memories of the two of you together as hero and sidekick.

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box

TAGLIST: at the end of the post, message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this my fifth fic for @bnhabookclub‘s bingo event (see my bingo masterlist here). a lot of the ideas in this fic came from a request from @belli-jelly, so a lot of credit goes to them! i changed some things, but hope what i did with your request was okay!

You and Midoriya were never the “traditional” type of couple: always doing things out of order, never following the proper timeline of a relationship. So when it came time for you to go wedding dress shopping, you didn’t hide away from the fact that you wanted your fiancé there in the store with you.

Opting to not believe in the superstition of bad luck being bestowed upon those who let their soon-to-be-husband see their significant other in their wedding dress before the big day, you invited him to the wedding dress boutique you now found yourself roaming the aisles of. When the time arrived for you to start thinking about wedding dresses, you wanted nothing more than the man you love to help you make the big decision.

Rows and rows or dresses surround you, encompassing you in walls of white and lace. You turn to look back at Izuku who is sitting on a large white couch, nervously twiddling his scarred thumbs as he usually does when he’s brought into new and different social situations. Sighing, you signal to the saleswoman helping you that you’ll be a moment as you walk over to your soon-to-be-husband.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing your hand delicately on his shaking knee. “You okay?”

He looks at you apologetically. “I feel like I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You can leave if you want,” you say. “You don’t have to be here.”

He shakes his head and puts his hand on top of yours. “I want to be here. With you.”

You feel your lips reflexively turn into a smile, as they often do when you're around him. You’re about to confess your love for him for the millionth time when the saleswoman walks up with a few beautiful wedding gowns in tow.

“Have you thought about necklines?” the sales associate asks as you run your hands over the plastic coverings of the dresses she picked out. “V-neck, off the shoulder… a sweetheart neckline would look wonderful on you! I’ve picked out a few here for you to try on.”

You hum in agreement and stand up to walk over to the fitting room, looking back at your fiancé, who flashes you an encouraging smile. “Sweetheart sounds great.”

“We’ll be going as high school sweethearts,” you explain to Midoriya. “The villain hosting this social event won’t see through it if we make it believable.”

The two of you ride in a taxi to the disclosed location, dressed up in your formal wear for the evening. You and Midoriya had worked as pro-heroes at the same agency for only a few days before the two of you were paired together on this mission. Both of you were assigned to go undercover as a married couple to a villain’s large social party in order to gather information. Since neither of you had become well-known heroes, you both were perfect candidates for the mission.

“B-believable?” Izuku asks, his face turning a slight shade of pink at the thought of what that could imply.

“Relax,” you say with a flick of your wrist and eye roll. “We won’t have to do anything beyond hand holding.”

Midoriya lets out a nervous laugh, and you can’t help but notice a twinge of disappointment in it. Maybe you’re imagining things. But between that and his nervous muttering when you appeared in your outfit for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder, could this green-haired hero have a thing for you?

“If something happens, we might have to reveal ourselves,” Izuku says, determination filling his eyes.

“I’m prepared for that eventuality,” you reply with a smirk, reaching behind you to unzip the top of your capped dress, revealing the compact folded cross bow and three arrows you have strapped to your back.

“Oh,” Izuku says in surprise. “I thought you could create your arrows using your quirk? Like how Creati makes things?”

You let out a laugh. “I don’t have a quirk. I’m just a person that’s good with a bow and arrow.”

“W-Wait, really?!”

You giggle at his shocked expression as the car comes to a stop. “Show time.”

“So how long have you two been together?”

“About two years,” you reply to the saleswoman as the two of you sort through the pile of dresses you’ve picked out. “Well, officially for two years, unofficially for almost three.”

“Unofficially?” she asks.

You nod and laugh. “I was his sidekick for a number of stealth missions and our undercover story was always that we were a couple.”

“Sound romantic,” the woman teases.

“You’d be surprised! Our first kiss was due to a villain testing us to see if we really were a couple.”

“Oh? How’d that go over?”

You smile back at the memory. “I grabbed him by his collar and kissed him right then and there. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human being turn a brighter shade of red. He almost blew our cover.”

She laughs along with you. “I see what you meant when you called and said you two weren’t a traditional couple.”

You hum in agreement and begin to unzip a dress to try on. “I like this one.”

The saleswoman helps you step into the dress. “An a-line silhouette with an illusion neckline. Good choice! I love the small opening on the back.”

“If we see something suspicious, we’ll only have a small opening,” Midoriya says, handing you the binoculars.

The two of you sit side by side in your agency’s stakeout van, trading off who’s on lookout duty. Both of you had been tasked with staking out a villain’s possible hideout. The chill winter air from the outside makes the inside of the van frigid. Wrapping yourself up in the hoodie that Izuku leant you, you breathe in the scent of him and cherish how it feels, as if the hero himself were embracing you.

This is the first mission since you realized your newfound feelings towards Midoriya. Over the past months, the two of you have gone from one-time mission partners to hero and sidekick, you being the latter. But you really didn’t mind being Deku’s sidekick. He was courteous, attentive, and caring. What you did mind, however, was how you began to feel about him.

It’s an unsaid code that hero/sidekick relationships are a no-go. Romantic feelings tend to get in the way of what should be a professional agreement between two parties. You loved Izuku Midoriya. You loved his never-faltering smile, the speckle of freckles across the apples of his cheeks, the way he put 110% into everything he ever did, and you loved the way he made you feel like anything was possible, quirk or no quirk.

However, you cherished your current relationship with him too much to risk it all. Because in no universe could he return feelings from a quirkless doomed to be a forever-sidekick like yourself. So you kept your amorous feelings at bay, electing instead to steal longing glances when you thought he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. He would often swear to himself that he saw you staring from the corner of his eye. He began to question if you felt the same way about him that he felt about you. That couldn’t be, though, right? You were amazing; an incredible person whose strength went seemingly unmatched. And he was just… Deku.

The truth is, ever since that mission that forced you into an impromptu kiss, he has wanted nothing more in the world than to feel your lips on his again. He was too shocked, too nervous to appreciate it the first time around. He wished another situation would call for such a gesture again, so that he could truly cherish what it could feel like to be loved by the most amazing person he knew. Because he truly loves and adores you.

It was moments like these, 3AM in a stakeout van, the cold air just begging for the two of you to use each other for warmth, that tested both of your limits. You felt the lock you kept on your feelings starting to loosen as the hours passed, maybe because of the lack of sleep, maybe because the hole where you were shoving all your feelings down had reached its limit. Either way, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth, even if you wanted to.

“Midoriya…. You’re-”

“Incredible,” the saleswoman says simply as you turn around in your dress, the white fabric swaying across the floor. “You look absolutely incredible!”

“Thank you,” you say, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It’s finally starting to sink in that you’ll be getting married. Not just married to anyone, but married to the man of your dreams, someone who you could, figuratively and literally, fight side by side with forever.

“What do you think about this one?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room.

As expected, your fiancé immediately starts tearing up.

“You look perfect.”

TAG LIST: @gallickingun @prismaroyal @wesparklebitch @bnha-violetnote @sunflower-kami-boi @shoutosteakettle @strwbrry-lia @ee-blue @shoutodoki @sadistiks @knifeewifee @viceofaladriel @saltie @khemz1312 @frenchspeakingfilipina @tessaisalbright @katsumi-kaminari @pixxiesdust @izukuwus @knaite-solo @inochaos

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

All I Want for Christmas (Yearning)

The third prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts

Prompt List

**Note: For the stories actually involving Christmas, I and a few other authors changed the holiday to Hylia’s Day (credit to @fatefulfaerie for this) so that it’s more relevant to Hyrule

Cover Art: @neezlebums be sure to show some love to the original here! I cannot stress this enough guys, PLEASE go like and reblog his work. He spends hours upon hours on every single cover drawing and it’s super disheartening that he’s getting 8 notes max on things he’s working really hard on. So please give his post as much love as you give mine!

Words: 1956

Summary: Link takes Zelda out to the Festival of Hylia in the hopes that she can enjoy it as a normal kid, and they share a moment during the fireworks show.

BotW pre-calamity (not HWAOC related)

**If I don’t have explicit warnings, read with caution. It simply means there’s nothing I could think of that could be potentially triggering, but I could’ve just missed something. In that case, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to put a warning!**

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

The concept of soulmates is rather simple for something so deep. Whether it be one soul torn into two, or a red string of fate, or two souls that found comfort in one another, the premise was the same. Lifetime after lifetime, for the eternity that was to come and go, two hearts cried out for one another. They searched high and low, across continents and oceans, across timelines and ages, yearning for their partner—their lost piece.

Yet fate could be a cruel player in the game of existence. It could drive a stake in between a set of mates, or prevent their meeting entirely. It could taunt them with the prospect of forever, and take it away at twice the speed.

It could take those souls and resurrect them only in times of destruction and decimation.

How much could a soul handle? How much could it stretch and bend before it shattered? Was it still marked by trauma all those years later, when it was finally placed into a vessel and sent back into the world?

The soul of a hero, for instance, would be battered and bruised until fate decided there was no use for it.

And until that decision was made, the hero’s soul would stay by the goddess’s side, even thousands upon thousands of years later.

An impending war, what they referred to as a Calamity, was nothing new to the old souls. Yet they were filled with optimism, a sort of youthful comfort that wrapped like a blanket, and old souls did not entirely push away childish ideas and schemes.

Said hero was scampering through the streets, hand in hand with the young goddess, both tucked under cloaks that fared as a decent disguise given most participants were too drunk to think otherwise at this point in the night.

“You cheated,” Zelda accused through a fit of giggles, but she made no move to drop the stuffed sand seal.

“I did not,” Link defended with a borderline emergent smile as he stole a glance towards the booth they’d run from. “I was just… a little better than their usual customers.”

“Yes, because their regular customers consist of skilled soldiers of Hyrule.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth and laughed again. It got harder to suppress his smile. Something about the freedom that came with sneaking out, on top of the thrill of being where they weren’t supposed to be, left him feeling giddy and mischievous. It’d taken a while to convince Zelda to come with him, but attending the Festival of Hylia to only bestow a blessing over the kingdom wasn’t fair. They’d attended earlier in the day, with the princess wearing a grand, white dress to make her look like the goddess, and all he wanted to do was give her a chance to experience the festival as a normal kid. It was the least she deserved, after spending all of her time and effort focused on the Calamity. Of course, the only way they could actually get out was in a disguise, but Link trusted the cloaks would do their jobs so long as the late night attendees were drinking properly.

“You’re positive we won’t get caught?” she asked, for what had to be the hundredth time since they’d left the castle.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in response, fixing his eyes on hers. They were twinkling even in the darkness, and he could see the Castle Town lights reflected in her irises. When he looked at her like this, when there was no one watching them with attentive eyes, he found it hard to believe she was only Hylian. She radiated a light they couldn’t see, but he knew it was there because she was always so warm. Her eyes were always so bright.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod. Once again, Link almost smiled. But instead, he pulled her by the hand over to another booth. The worker looked too tired to care, so he didn’t have to take much caution in sliding over the rupees and asking for a soft pretzel, a caramel apple that had caught Zelda’s eye, and a set of drinks. It was just a shame they had to release hands to hold it all.

“We used to come to the festivals all the time,” Zelda said after a few bites, letting her shoulder brush against his. “My mother would play the goddess and do the blessings, but after that, father would take me around to the different games and let me play. I was never any good at it, but they gave me prizes anyway. Mother was brilliant, though. She knew just how to get past the games’ rigging. After her death, father didn’t let me stay out as long. Once I was twelve, my only purpose at the festival was to give the blessings. Did your family always come?”

“Almost every year. My father always took us the first night,” Link spoke with a nod. “Because he was on duty the other two. He tried getting my sister and I to play the games, but I was only interested in the food.”

Another giggle passed the princess’s lips.

“It sounds like you haven’t changed at all,” she replied, nudging him again.

“Except now I know how to win,” he said and gestured to the stuffed sand seal.

“I still think you cheated.”

“They cheated us first.”

Zelda had no argument to that one. Link tossed the paper from his pretzel into the trash, then adjusted the fasten on his cloak.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see the fireworks?” she asked. “I used to watch them from my window all the time.”

“I don’t know if it’s better than the view from your window, but I know a place,” he replied. Zelda slipped an arm around his, like she’d done it a thousand times before, and he ducked his head to hide his face from the overhanging light.

“I’ll have to see it in order to judge,” she said simply. He fought back a smile and pulled her through the streets of Castle Town once more, until they’d reached the outskirts.

Link jumped up to grab the tree branch above them, then turned and held his hands out to her. Apparently his intentions were clear because even in the darkness, he could see that Zelda was appalled.

“We can’t climb on a random person’s house! Link! Get down!” she yelled in a whisper, but he just let the grin cover his face.

“It’s empty. For sale, I think,” he replied with a shrug. She looked around, as if she wanted to make sure they were really alone, before taking his hands. He pulled her into the tree effortlessly, then boosted her up onto the roof of a Castle Town house. “It’s no castle view, but you won’t be eye-level with the fireworks.”

“You can see the entire festival from here,” she spoke when he joined her at the top. “It’s not just lights. You can see everything. How did you..?”

“There was one year when my father had to attend all three nights, so it was just my sister and I. We ran out of rupees trying one of the games, and she was really upset, so I just.. snatched a prize and ran. We climbed onto a roof and stayed there for the rest of the festival, until I was sure he hadn’t sent any soldiers after us. It gave us a pretty good view.”

“You thief!” Zelda accused, giving him a shove. Link bit back a laugh.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. So now you’re the holder of some pretty powerful information.”

She hummed in thought and leaned her head against the plushie.

“I could do so much with this. I could tell everyone and finally have my freedom from you.”

“I don’t know if stealing a plushie from a festival booth ten years ago is enough to get me demoted.”

“It’s a serious crime,” but he could hear the laughter in Zelda’s voice. He turned to face her just as the first of the fireworks went off, drowning her in a soft yellow light. Even if he wanted to watch the fireworks, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was in a category all of her own, and the word beautiful couldn’t describe her in her entirety.

He could call her hair golden, but it still didn’t capture her richness. He could compare her eyes to emeralds, and it still wouldn’t tell how precious they were. He could say her voice was a melody, and it still couldn’t describe how much he loved the song she sang each time she spoke. With every passing day, she grew more and more into the goddess whose blood she carried in her veins. She radiated a power and displayed a wisdom he’d never seen before, yet it felt so familiar to him that it never surprised him. He could watch her for hours, whether she was studying the Sheikah technology or praying at the foot of a goddess statue (not that he did, obviously, because that was sacred and private). It didn’t feel like a job--it never had. He’d give his life for her over and over again, like it was written into his blood and soul. Like he’d done it before.

With how far they’d come, Link wondered just how much could one feel for a single person. If he could shield her from the world, he would. But she didn’t need that. Zelda was strong and independent, but what he wouldn’t give to remain by her side for as long as he could.

She took his arm again and rested her head against his shoulder. Her hold was as gentle as she. Her fingers intertwined with his and he gave her hand a small squeeze.

“Link?”

He hummed to let her know he was listening and ready to answer any question she wanted to ask.

“What do you want for Hylia’s Day?”

The gift giving tradition held true even to this year, but Link didn’t quite know how to answer her. What he really wanted was her. He wanted her to be happy and safe and secure. He wanted the goddess to respond, and for her powers to awaken so she could just enjoy whatever time they had left.

Was there a stronger word that fit this feeling than yearning? Yearning for Zelda and her life and her future.

He bit his cheek in thought, because none of that could be said aloud.

“I want a promise,” he replied at last. “that once this is all over, you’ll keep researching. And that maybe I can stay your knight attendant for as long as you can tolerate me.”

She almost laughed.

“Link.. I can’t promise anything. If I can’t awaken this power, then-“

“You will,” he said, holding her hand tighter. “I believe in you.”

Zelda smiled at him—weak and small, but it still filled him with a warmth that made him feel all the more confident.

“I want a day off to just relax with our friends,” she stated, returning her head to his shoulder.

“All of our friends?”

“Yes, even Revali.”

Link chuckled and shook his head, watching the last of the fireworks pop. He’d never felt more relaxed than he did then. It was like they belonged there. Something about her was so calming that he didn’t want to go back to the castle just yet.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly into the quieting night. “For tonight.”

He wished he could kiss her.

Instead, he gave her hand a squeeze and said, “Anything you want, Princess. Just say the word.”

#zelink #botw link #botw zelda #botw zelink #zelink prompts #christmas prompts #take a shot every time one of my fics shits on revali #it's a common theme #can u tell I dislike the bird manchild #link just kiss her it's fine i promise u #it'll even do u all some good

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reddrobins · 4 years

Text

an unforgettable love [d.wayne]

OLDER!DAMIAN WAYNE X READER

REQUESTS: Hi! Hewo! How about a Damian Wayne x reader who has amnesia and Damian is so devastated by it and eventually either the reader just falls back in love with Damian or gets their memories back idk you choose. Take care and stay safe!

SUMMARY: When reader suddenly develops amnesia from n accident, Damian takes it upon himself to get you back. Even if it takes weeks or months or even years, he will do anything to get his beloved back.

“Let me through.”

The secretary’s eyes widened as she looked at the boy in front of her. There stood the wealthiest teen in Gotham, Damian Wayne.

Barely able to compose a response, she asked, “I’m sorry?”

This seemed to annoy the Wayne teen as he put a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I said, may I please be let in. I need to go to room 715.”

The woman at the desk, whos nametag read Gretchen, typed something onto her computer and then frowned, “I’m sorry sir, this room is only open to family.”

Damian looked at her blankly, “I am aware of that. Now, will you let me in?”

Gretchen raised a brow at him, “Are you family to his patient?”

Leaning over the counter, Damian stared her down, “I am the most like family she has, now will you let me in or do I have to remind you who owns the hospital? I could very well get my father in-”

“No! No, all is fine Mr Wayne.” She blurted out, breaking her calm composure, “I’ll take you there right now.”

Damian gave a scoff, following the lady to room 715. To your room.

As soon as she opened the door, Damian rushed in and took a knee by your side. “Beloved.” He spoke as he softly grabbed your hand.

You looked at him oddly, like you had never seen him before. You even retracted your hand from his hold.

“Beloved?” Damian said again, though this time questionably.

You made eye contact with the nurse at the door, a very confused look plastered on your face.

“Mr Wayne, do you mind if I speak to you? In the hall, preferably.”

Damian nodded to the nurse and stood up, following her outside.

She quietly shut the door behind them and then looked up at the teen, “When the bomb went off at City Hall, I’m afraid that a piece of shrapnel hit this patient on the head. That mixed with the dose of trauma she has experience caused her to experience amnesia. She doesn't know who she is… or who you are.”

The Wayne teens world stopped. You don't know who he is?

Damian zoned out after that, how could you, his beloved, not remember him? Heart breaking into pieces, he slowly made his way back into the hospital room.

You tore your eyes away from the television, watching him walk towards you, eventually taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“(Y/N),” He said softly.

You nodded, That was your name. That's all you knew.

“Yes. (Y/N).” You replied back.

Though usually maintaining an ice-cold coolness about him, watching you struggle to remember made him feel… hopeless.

“Do you know who I am, Bel- (Y/N)?” He asked, wanting nothing more to reach out and grab your hand.

You bit your lip in contemplation, trying your hardest to search your memory for any ounce of those sparkling green eyes.

“N-No… Should I?” You saw the pain in his face, you didn't know why but it broke you to see any angst bestowed on him.

Sighing, Damian gave a defeated nod, “Yes, yeah we, we’re together. We’re partners, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught, this, was your boyfriend?

“Oh…” Was the only response you could squeeze out, then, “I’m sorry.”

A bitter laugh escaped Damian, “No, don’t be sorry. You are fine, my lo- (Y/N). I know its hard. I won’t pressure you anymore.”

Seeing how lost the situation was, Damian stood up from his spot, not wanting to bother you any more than he had.

A hand latched onto him, he looked down and made contact with your pleading face, “Please,” You said softly, “Please stay. If you are who you say you are… I- I want you to stay.”

A small smile crept up to the young Waynes face. Damian nodded and sat back down, his hand moving to interlock with yours.

Though skeptical and resistant, you let him soothe the back of your palm, even finding yourself leaning into the touch.

“Help me.” was all you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Damian looked at you questioningly, “Help you?”

Nodding, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “Please, help me remember. If I just found out I had a boyfriend, imagine how many other things I can't remember. I need your to help me… Damian?”

His hand stopped its movements, he hadn’t said his name, nor had the nurse. You knew his name.

“You said my name. You remember my name, (Y/N).”

Reluctantly you nodded, “Things have been coming back to me in pieces throughout the day… but you’ve seemed to jog my thoughts. Stay with me?”

Damian slid off the bed and took the chair next to you, that way he was eye to eye with you. “I swear on my life hat I will do anything in my power to get you back. I need you as you need me, beloved.”

Blushing at the nickname, you gave a small smile, “You say that often, that our thing, right?”

The raven-haired teen couldn’t help the smile growing on his face, “Yes. You’re my beloved, always.”

There, you two stayed for a while, Damian rubbing your hand as you thought long and hard, trying everything in your power to remember your life. And for the first time in a few days, the situation seemed hopeful.

Damian hadn’t noticed he’d fallen asleep until his phone rang. Cautious, as not to wake you, he snuck out of the room, answering the call.

“What do you need Grayson?” He asked into the receiver.

His older brother spoke, “Hey Dames, was just checking in. Bruce told me you visited (Y/N) today.”

“He told you correctly then, I’m still here. Is something amiss?” Damian asked.

Dick shook his head on the other line, “No, everything’s under control. Just wanted to see how you were doing. And I guess, how (Y/N) is doing too.”

“Fine.” Damian first said, then retracted his lie, “Well, not fine. As fine as someone with amnesia could possibly be. Shes slowly regaining memory though which is progress. I am to stay the night with her, let father know.”

“I asked how you were doing too, Damian.” Dick said, not confident that his little brother was as calm as he gave off.

“I'm not the one in a hospital bed.”

Dick sighed, knowing that he wouldn't get anything else out of Damian, even if he just wanted to help. “Alright,” He said defeatedly, “If you need anything, you know who to call.”

And with that, Damian hung up the phone, making his way back to your side. To his surprise, you were awake, watching something on the television.

“Beloved?” Damian questioned.

You turned to him, eyes wide, “That's your father.” you said, finger pointed to the screen.

Damian furrowed his brows, why would Bruce be on TV at this hour?

He turned his attention to where you were pointing and almost dropped his phone.

There on the screen, you pointed to Batman.

“They only had poorly made sandwiches and carton juices. I didn't feel like putting you through more trauma, so I took the liberty and ordered us food from the Wayne Enterprises cafeteria, it should arrive any- (Y/N)?”

Damian had just returned from his trek to the hospitals ‘restaurant’, only to come back to see you out of bed, staring out the window.

You spun around at his call, a sad smile on your face. “We used to have picnics there,” you spoke, pointing to Gotham Park. “You’d bring your dog…”

“Titus,” Damian filled in the blank.

You nodded a thanks, “Titus, and you’d play fetch while I ate whatever Alfred packed us.”

Damian stared at you, this was the most you had remembered this whole week.

Before he could even ask you how you knew, your eyes brightened, “Alfred! Your butler, how is he? Does he know I’m here… Oh, I miss him, he was always so nice.”

The other teen cleared his throat, still in awe of your memory, “Yes, he knows you’re here. But, beloved, when did you recall all of this?”

Biting your lip, you shrugged, “I, I don't know? I just looked at the park and everything came flooding back.”

You saw Damian’s face, did he look… disappointed? Quickly, you tried to save your statement, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Damian.” His name rolled off your tongue like natural.

Damian walked towards you, putting his hands in yours, “Never apologize for anything. You’ve done nothing to upset me, love, just, you caught me off guard.” Then, “Let’s get you back in bed for lunch, yeah?”

Nodding, you let him lead you away from the window.

“I'm requesting to take patient (Y/N) out on a brief trip.”

The desks worker looked up from her computer, Damian recognized her - it was Gretchen. “I’m sorry Mr Wayne, patients in the emergency wards cannot be lead outside.”

Damian once more leaned over the desk, “Then take her out of the ward. Put her in a normal room. Do anything, I’m taking her out of this building one way or another.”

Sighing, Gretchen typed away at her keyboard, “How old is the patient?”

“18,” Damian scoffed, Shouldn’t the hospital know this?

“Mr Wayne, if the patients 18, they can sign themselves out. Should I get the discharge papers ready?”

“That would be much appreciated.” Damian said, “I apologize for my former outburst.”

“Damian where are we going?” You laughed as he tugged your hand, dragging you along a small dirt path.

It had been a week since you were in the hospital, Damian took it upon himself to take care of you at the manor, setting up Dicks old room to be a small getaway for the both of you.

“Slow down, I can't keep up!” This had been the first time you had giggled in a while. It felt nice, especially with Damian by your side.

“We’re almost there, my love, just hold on.” He said, a smile behind his teasing eyes.

Finally, the two of you stopped. You took in the sight in front of you. There is a clearing on the grounds of Wayne Manor sat two benches, a small picnic table in between them, rose bushes surrounding the back.

“Damian this is, this is beautiful.” You looked up at him, “Did you do this?”

He shook his head, a burst of bright laughter escaping him, “No beloved, you did this.”

Your mouth dropped open. You did this? For what?

It was as if Damian knew the questions in your head, “Our first date. You said you wanted it to be special. And you knew that I was not the romantic I am today - so you took the job of making us a quaint vocational place. This is our spot, the location of our first-”

“I love you.” You finished for him.

Damian sighed, he hadn’t heard that in a while.

“Yes, that's where we said our first I love yo-”

“No-” You interrupted him, “No, I mean, I love you. Like right now, Damian Wayne, I love you.”

Damian smiled, softly squeezing your hand, “And I you, Beloved.”

“I mean it differently this time. I-” You looked up, trying to gather your thoughts, “I have re-fallen in love with you Damian. You helped me regain my memories and though they’re still fuzzy, I know one thing is fact. I love you and I will now and forever. You’re my Damian Wayne.”

His breath had caught in his throat, for the first time, eloquently spoken Damian Wayne was gone and love-struck puppy Damian Wayne was present. “I love you as well.” Was all he could muster.

Going on your tiptoes, you gently placed your lips to his. Damian’s hands found your waist and he pulled you close, the two of you fit like a perfect puzzle.

You pulled away, resting your forehead on his chest, “It would take a lot more than amnesia to forget how kissing you feels.”

Damian laughed lightly, placing his chin atop your head, “I don't think I will ever be able to forget what kissing you feel like.”

Smiling into his shirt you spoke, And you never will. I’m right here and will always be.”

Damian pecked your head, pulling away to look you in the eyes, “The same goes for be beloved. I'm here, always.”

#older! damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #older!damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #older!damian wayne x reader #robin #robin x reader #batman #batfamily imagine #batman imagine #batman x reader #batfamily

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stovmborn-arc · 3 years

Photo

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 & 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒.

** this meta contains book, show and personal headcanons following daenerys’ relationship with her dragons. one thing that really stands out to me in the show is that the dragons are literally used as weapons of war, rather than maintaining the relationship that daenerys had displayed with them during the earlier books. yes, they will help her win the seven kingdoms but they are her children, instead of ways of winning battles. crafted and constructed over lots of heartbreak with the help of daisy over on @perzyr ( a literal living dragon encyclopaedia ) so please go and give some love with a follow for top quality dragon lore & content. it’s going to be a long one so if you do read this then get comfortable. i will always reference and inform my writing partners of any important details regarding the dragons, should they be of any relevance to our plots or threads. give that like button a ♡ if you do read this –-– just so i know !!!

◈ first things first, daenerys is not immune to fire. although in the show, she does not suffer any injuries from the funeral pyre in which she burns drogo, she is given the name of the unburnt because of emerging from the the flames alive, not unscathed. the hatching and birth of drogon, rhaegal and viserion was incredibly unique, a miracle even. three petrified eggs were placed into the pyre of her husband and dragons returned to the world for the first time in centuries. in the books, she loses her hair as a result of being within the flames and much like any other human, sustains at least some injuries. as a targaryen, she can tolerate high levels of heat and resist the pain of being burnt for a short while but too much time in fire can be severely damaging. albeit receiving wounds, they are quick healing given the magic in her valyrian blood. ◈ there is a level of understanding between daenerys and each of her children. although she cannot physically speak to them, there is a bond that she believes cannot be broken between her, drogon, rhaegal and viserion despite eventually becoming drogon’s rider. the bond she forms with them is one that grows with the time she spends nurturing them. to form a closeness, she cooks their meat as they are only babies and even speaks to them in valyrian. daenerys does not only rely on them for warmth but for comfort at times where she is feeling uncertain of the path ahead. dragon cuddles are a thing, it is known. cradling them in her arms, letting them huddle around her and sharing warmth with them, she attempts to create a physical bond between herself and her children. viserion is known for curling up on dany’s chest in particular. whilst drogon and rhaegal tend to occupy themselves more in play, viserion can be found by daenerys’ side as she reads. rather than caging them, daenerys ensures that they have their own safe space they can return to where they are free –-– their own sanctuary almost unless they are travelling. she allows them to fly above her and the khalasar along the red waste but also has a horses cart in which she places them when they grow tiresome. ◈ when it comes to the chaining of viserion and rhaegal, daenerys is at odds with herself. beginning to lose control of drogon and learning that yunkai has returned to their old ways, a weight rests upon her shoulders. jorah mormont has too recently betrayed her and so, daenerys feels control slipping from her fingers. remembering that she is still young and somewhat naive ( despite being a queen ), an overwhelming amount of guilt falls upon her as the body of a child is brought before her claiming that ‘the winged shadow’ was responsible. whilst it is suggested that the death has been caused by the masters in a bid to shame her, daenerys decides that it is a risk she simply cannot take. grudges have been held against her ancestors for the pain they instilled upon their own dragons, confining them to a pit. her liberation of slavers bay has been dedicated to freeing people of their chains and yet, she finds herself submitting to exactly what those of house targaryen did many years prior in the dragon pits. with a heavy heart, she makes a temporary measure to confine them below the great temple though, it is not as simple as what the show depicts it to be and instead, she faces a struggle.

◈ ❝ once, not long ago, she had ridden on her shoulder, her tail coiled around her arm. once she had fed her morsels of charred meat from her own hand. she had been the first chained up. daenerys had led her to the pit herself and shut her up inside with several oxen. once she had gorged herself, she grew drowsy. they had chained her whilst she slept. ❞ –-– the capture of viserion, her smallest and youngest baby. having to lead viserion into the pits personally, it felt as though she was leading viserion astray. an immediate guilt resides within daenerys, knowing that it is only her who has the power to bring viserion into the pit, it felt as though daenerys was leading her to her own demise. she had been named for viserys, the very person who had bargained with her freedom and now, she has in turn, chained the dragon she had named after him into a slave. ◈ ❝ rhaegal had been harder. perhaps he could hear his sister raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. in the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants’ steps, twisting and snapping. six men had been burned in the struggle. ❞ –-– the capture of rhaegal, her most stubborn and defiant child. following the tales of rhaegar, she knew that rhaegal would not go down without a fight, though she did not anticipate the difficulty that would come with it. knowing of the struggle that he puts up, it only stirs more distress within daenerys, a sense of grief she has not felt before. watching the struggle increases her guilt and she cannot face rhaegal, employing members of the unsullied instead to lure him to the pits as she cannot bring herself to face him beneath iron nets. ◈ there are many occasions in which daenerys struggles to live with the decision that she has succumbed to the very thing her ancestors did and in an attempt to quell her own sadness and keep a bond with viserion and rhaegal during drogon’s disappearance, pays visits to them in the pits. though on one occasion, one lunges towards her as teeth snap in darkness, daenerys barely able to make out what is happening. the only thing that saves her is the fiery breath in which viserion releases, lighting a path so that she is able to quickly flee from what turns out to be an attack from rhaegal. the time he has spent in darkness has shaped his vision of his mother, stirring a rage inside of him ( not only for himself but for his sister ). paying mind to the devastation that she has bestowed upon her children, the pit is sealed abruptly once more and daenerys is left with a raincloud lingering above her. she had named viserion to do what her brother could not –-– protect her and that was exactly what viserion attempted to do as a fire lit within rhaegal’s throat, ready to engulf their mother as punishment. ◈ when the fighting pits are reopened during her wedding to hizdahr zo loraq and the sons of the harpy attack, drogon is lured to daznak’s fighting pits by the noise and the smell of blood. no whip is used to berate him or mount him and instead, the bond that formed between them is returned to her eyes as she looks at him in fear. she pulls a spear from his side, teeth bared as he lets out a scream of pain, though he soon realises it is his mother. it is within that moment that she remembers she is the mother of dragons and instead, takes to climb atop of him where she is carried to safety and taken to his lair in the dothraki sea where he has been living in his absence. falling ill and growing weak after eating wild berries and the scraps that drogon has left behind, daenerys begins to hallucinate. not only does she have visions of quaithe and the message she has delivered but she dreams of her children too, chained and betrayed by their own mother. it is in these visions that the impact of her actions begin to stir inside of her, realising that her children were never the monsters but instead, it was her.

◈ freed by tyrion, daenerys and her children take to the skies to defend meereen which is under siege at the hands of yunkai, astapor and volantis who are adamant in ending her ‘reign’. whilst this might not necessarily be a moment of rejoice and destruction for rhaegal and viserion, it is the first time in which they have been free from the pits beneath the temple in which they had been chained. viserion flies in out of loyalty to her mother ( and feeling somewhat responsible for having been chained ) as rhaegal follows closely behind, having grown protective of his sister. following the victory, daenerys dedicates most of her time in making amends to her children she has betrayed and willingly chained.

◈ with viserion, she takes baskets of apples having known it is her favourite food and sits upon clifftops, reading to her in an attempt to salvage the bond they had. she tells her tales of the dragons that lived centuries before them, teaching her of dragonstone and the history of house targaryen’s reign in kings landing, on occasion also speaking in high valyrian. it takes weeks in order to strengthen what she had severed and at times, has to sit with her back to viserion to provide her with some comfort. each day that passes, she inches slightly further forward until one day, realises that viserion is wrapped around her –-– too big to now curl around her neck like she had done as a child. at first, when daenerys goes to touch her, she realises that rhaegal is scared ( particularly if her neck is touched from where she almost strangled herself, worried for her mothers safety as the sons of the harpy erupted within the fighting pits ). instead, she makes contact by scratching at her nuzzle, allowing her palm to stroke between her nostrils until she reaches up to the point between her eyes.

◈ with rhaegal, the process is a much longer and difficult one. as noted in the words of barristan selmy, he was always the more aggressive dragon and quite often, became possessive over things such as food. when attempting to rebuild the bond she had with rhaegal, daenerys ensures to bring him extra meat and cooks it herself, starting a fire and charring it before retreating further away. there is little she can do in terms of comforting rhaegal and for the first couple of weeks, sits with him in silence knowing that no words can convince him of how she believed she was doing what was best for meereen. on one occasion, rhaegal snaps at daenerys, pinning her down to the point of almost crushing her. it is a cry from viserion that tears rhaegal away, the sadness within her windpipe causing him to leave daenerys and fly off elsewhere to escape from his mother. on her next visit, she ensures that viserion is there, becoming aware of the protective instinct he feels for his sister. eventually, daenerys attempts to create toys and little playful games like she did as they were babies. this consists of making balls of ribbon, much bigger than what they once were as drogon joins them too, living in the memories they did when the three of them were newly hatched. the trust between rhaegal and daenerys has never fully returned to what it once was, though she notices that tyrion’s presence instils a sense of calm within him –-– one she has not seen before. it fills her with sadness, having named him for her brother who died on the green banks of the trident, daenerys had hoped she might feel a closeness to rhaegal out of the connection he holds with rhaegar and yet, this will never happen. though, she knows she only has herself to blame.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋.

◈ following the chaos in daznak’s pits and realising that spears ( although not deadly ) can cause damage and hurt to a dragon, daenerys readies her dragons to have armour as she prepares to sail for westeros. it is not full body armour but more so protective layers that shape around their throats and shoulders. shed skin is used to form a second layer of scales, used for measurements too. a saddle is also made for drogon, simply to make things safer and to provide him with more comfort as she rides him. more details are later added to their armour using dragonglass mined from the caves of dragonstone.

◈ it is suggested by some that to maintain a relationship between her and the dragons, so that they accept her as their ruler, daenerys uses a whip to control them. when she acquires the unsullied, daenerys is seen mocking the masters by tossing the whip that master krazyns provides her with to the ground. and if this does not promote her attitude towards cruelty and control, i don’t know what does. as much as she would like to be able to tame her dragons, she understands that they are creatures as smart as she. they have their own mind, their own will and it cannot be bent or controlled. she does not use a whip or any kind of weapon to command them but instead, relies on the physical and mental bond that she has instead as a means of trying to show them what is right from wrong. the first time when this is questioned however, is when she locks rhaegal and viserion in the pits below her pyramid.

◈ if more eggs were to come into her possession, daenerys would not be so hasty in attempting to hatch them. she knows that it was a miracle for her own eggs to hatch and would not rush to do so but rather, let the dragon insides grow until they are ready. as she did with drogon, rhaegal and viserion, she would spend time with them and attempt to bond with them. the difference this time around however, is that any babies will have older dragons to look up to –-– to nurture them and daenerys would rely especially upon viserion having shared such a tight knit bond with her since she was small enough to fit in her palm.

◈ if either rhaegal or viserion showed interest in allowing another rider, it would not bother daenerys so much, providing that the person they had shown an inclination to was somebody she too trusts. the dragons and daenerys share a bond ( even if it was severed when she betrayed their trust ) but they have seen many people enter and leave their mothers life. some lost to war and protecting their queen, others with ulterior motives. the dragons have a good judge of character, particularly drogon and viserion who daenerys shares the closest bonds with, simply from the consistent contact and affection they keep. daenerys’ feelings and reactions to things rub off on drogon and viserion, with thanks to the emotional and physical connection she shares with them. rhaegal too is capable of picking up on his mothers emotions, though he usually only acknowledges them if they are of threat to viserion.

#iii. i will answer injustice with justice » metas.#DAENERYS STORMBORN & HER DRAGONS.#i would personally like to shout out daisy #for absolutely ruining me #just a side note that when i recover from this meta #i'm putting your ass on a google doc #fOR DESTROYING MY LIFE

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mythrilhusk · 3 years

Text

Korosensei Never Dies -Chapter 9

Words: 2,140 Ao3 Version Chapter 8 (Last)

TW: threats of violence, heavy (but short) discussions of death/murder

Quackity scowls blearily at the returning heroes. He and the other Ducklings were up the whole damn night trying to work out infiltration plans after Bad gave them the location of the laboratory and then peaced out with his team of scammers. Bad won't be returning again, but thanks to him, the Ducklings missed the whole rescue mission.

It's summer vacation, so everyone ought to be home anyway, but Philza promised to teach them fighting, and by the goddamned stars, Quackity is determined to make the old man follow through.

Philza steps tiredly into the classroom. His bloodshot, baggy eyes go wide in surprise as he sees all the students gathered there. Quackity salutes him with a smirk. Ranboo hides in the shadows of the door, watching Phil with worried sulkiness.

"Kids, I need a favor." Philza collapses into a chair, hiding his face. "I know you want him dead. But- please. Wait a bit." He hesitates and then continues in a ragged voice, "Purpled hit him with a neutralizing agent. He- he can die, again. I'm begging you all, please don't tell anyone or try to kill him until our time is up."

"Why should we??" Quackity demands, realizing immediately with a confusing mixture of delight and horror that Technoblade has been rendered vulnerable. Does this mean their plan to sneak into the lab is pointless now? "I don't know." Philza hiccups. He's crying. The tears burn a hole through Quackity's delight. "I don't know, dammit. Please, just wait to kill him at the end of the year. No, better, kill both of us then, I've done the same terrible things as he has! I should be punished too, goddammit, why is he the one to suffer for both our crimes??"

"I'll wait." Quackity leans back. "I'll fucking wait till time's up, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up my revenge."

"I'll wait too!" Tommy cries. "I'm the fucking king of procrastination!"

Sapnap and the Ducklings follow Quackity's example. The others follow Tommy's example. Together, the class proclaims their willingness to postpone Techno's death.

Philza rubs his eyes and takes the handkerchief Tommy stole from Wilbur to offer him. "Thank you, kids."

"We still get fighting lessons, right?" Quackity asks with a scowl.

"Yes, of course you do. You've all earned them." Philza smiles tremulously. "Ranboo, Techno, you can come out."

Ranboo steps into the light, blatantly normal-seeming, so unlike the nightmare Tommy and Charlie described. He hovers beside Technoblade as the former terrorist limps through the room to reach his desk. He seems so small and frail without the mutation-induced strength. He looks so weak. Quackity could put a bullet through his head right now and he wouldn't be able to dodge or absorb it.

But Quackity sees Philza watching Techno with worried, fond eyes. He thinks of Sapnap. Of Techno eating the goddamn grenade to save Sapnap.

Quackity decides he can wait. If he kills Technoblade right away, after all, Philza won't give anybody fighting lessons.

And if Philza doesn't give them fighting lessons, then who the fuck is going to wreak vengeance on whatever motherfucking scientists created the mutants?

++++

Niki and Jack watch through binoculars as their enemies spar with each other in the clearing outside the remote school building designated for Class 3-E. "Dang." Jack says. "They're not bad."

"They can't fight a bomb." Niki grins.

"Much less ten." Jack matches Niki's toothy smile.

"Did you get the supplies?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good work, Jack." Niki drops lightly from the tree. "We can proceed with the operation Smithereens in a week."

"Awesome." Jack chuckles darkly. "Do we really want to give them that much time, though?"

"We need to get them acclimated to the bait, first." Niki taps her fingers to her lips. "This will go wonderfully, Jack, don't worry. That loser class won't be a threat much longer."

++++

"Sir, Purpled is dead." HBomb reports, wincing nervously in apprehension.

"The fuck he is, I told that bitch to get me Technoblade, and by god, he'd better do it!" Schlatt tips a whiskey bottle into his mouth, gulping the burning liquid down. He lowers it and peers at HBomb. "Unless somebody fucked up again."

"He must have, sir." HBomb grasps the lifeline eagerly. "The neutralizing agent was nowhere near his body."

"What?" Schlatt says calmly, his tone barely warning of the torrent of rage he's about to unleash upon the poor unwitting HBomb. "Where the fuck is it, then?"

"Our clean-up team found the crushed casing nearby!" HBomb continues to dig his grave. "So-"

"So he found it, and destroyed it." Schlatt snarls.

HBomb nods quickly. "Y-yes, but-"

"Do you know how long it took to make enough neutralizer for one dart??"

"Months, sir, but-"

"And you're telling me Purpled fucked up badly enough that somehow that goddamn mutant knew about the dart and destroyed it."

"Well- see, we have reason to believe Dream is involved!"

"Damn it!" Schlatt bellows and smashes the whiskey bottle on the table. His hand starts to bleed and sting from the shards. "HBomb." He growls, trying to pretend he's still in control; he needs to still be in control. "Why the fuck is that motherfucking spider involved?? I gave him a mutant already, why the hell does he want to steal mine??"

"I thought you'd want his help!" HBomb squeals. "So I let him know we're trying to hunt Technoblade down!"

"Fuck this, fuck you, you motherfucking imbecile, you complete and utter moron, why the fUCK WOULD YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THIS??" Schlatt roars.

HBomb cowers, hiding ineffectively behind his broom. "I- I'm sorry, sir, but I thought-"

"Well, there's the fucking problem, yeah, bitch?? You thought. I do the thinking here." Schlatt reaches for his gun. "You want to know what I'm thinking, HBomb? Do you want to know what I'm thinking of, right fucking now??"

"Pl-please-" HBomb whimpers, staring into the barrel as it aims between his eyes.

"I'm thinking you're fucking useless to me, HBomb. And you know what happens to useless whiny bitches like you, right?"

"Please don't kill me!" HBomb sobs.

"Ahh, whatever." Schlatt lowers the gun, too furious to admit he can't bring himself to actually pull the trigger and become a murderer. "Leave my sight and don't fucking show your ugly mug for a week."

HBomb scurries away, leaving Schlatt to bind his bloody hand, alone in the sterile laboratory.

++++

Getting beaten up would have been bearable. Being bullied mercilessly would have been completely deserved. But being completely and utterly ignored for days on end breaks Eret like a goddamn crusher.

The more he thinks back on her actions, the guiltier she feels. During the sparring classes, they copy Philza's moves alone, behind everyone else working with partners. When the class decides to camp in the forest for the rest of summer vacation, Eret sets up his tent several meters away from the rest. She stands back and watches their former friends banter and laugh as they raise their own tents.

"Hey."

Eret almost jumps at the low voice of Ranboo addressing her. Turning, he faces the mutant, clenching her hands to hide the trembling. "Yeah?"

Ranboo steps up next to them, gazing into the smoking campfire amidst the scattered tents. "Why are you scared of me?"

"You- you already know why." Eret stares at his hands. Out, out, damned spot.

"Um. I don't really remember, but yeah, okay." Ranboo sighs. "I- I don't think I'm sorry."

"Neither am I, apparently." Bitterly laughing, Eret grips her chest as the sharp pain of grief blossoms.

"I think you are."

"What do you know??" Eret lashes out, shoving Ranboo. "If everything had gone according to plan, it would all be fine!"

"But you still wouldn't have any friends." Ranboo replies calmly.

It hurts that he's right. Eret knows he's right. They turn away, hunched and close to tears. "Why am I scared of you?" She mutters in a low, desperate voice. "Because I know. I saw what you are. I know you- you killed Purpled."

Ranboo frowns. "Techno killed him." He says it so casually. Techno. As though the bastard wasn't a mass-murderer and terrorist, bestowing violence in the name of anarchy and blood. "What do you think I am?"

"A monster." Eret snaps, rounding on Ranboo, who backpedals with surprised fear in his eyes. "You're a monster. You might not remember. Your friends might pretend to forget. But I know."

Ranboo gathers his composure and stands his ground, forcing Eret back a step. "If I'm a monster, and I protected my friends... what does that make you?" He turns on his heel and storms away into the trees.

Shattered and lost, Eret can only watch him disappear.

++++

Karl slips a briefcase under the table to his contact, who takes it and gives it a little shake. His contact then slides a folder over the table. Karl snatches it and stuffs it in his backpack. The two remain in silence for a moment longer. Karl leaves first.

Once out of the main school's cafe, he runs all the way through the woods to the Ducklings' treehouse. Echoing footsteps crack twigs behind him as he reaches the gang's base.

"Hey, what's that?" Fundy doesn't even bother trying to hide anymore as Karl climbs into the treehouse.

Karl pulls the ladder up. "None of your business."

"C'mon, we're in the same class!"

"You're not a Duckling."

"I can help!! Pleassse?" Fundy begs.

"Who the fuck is bugging you, Karl??" Quackity sticks his head out the window. "Fundy?? Get the hell outta here."

"That was HBomb you were talking to!" Fundy cries desperately. Karl groans and hides his face in his hoodie. "I know that guy! I used to work for him!"

"Where?" Quackity asks.

"Some laboratory in the capital!" Fundy cries. "I was shadowing him for a potential internship!"

"Let the ladder down." Quackity orders. Karl sighs as he obeys.

"Fine, but I don't trust you."

"You don't have to." Fundy gives a smug smile as he leaps up the ladder.

Karl enters the treehouse and sets the blueprints down on the table. Sapnap and Foolish stop painting Connor's hair and gather around with Quackity and Fundy.

The laboratory blueprints spread across the table, promising revenge. Karl looks up and sees the hungry fire in Quackity's eyes. He looks to the side and meets the molten steel in Sapnap's gaze.

Quackity draws his dagger and sets the point on the blueprints. "Whoever the fuck's been experimenting on people, let's fucking find them and end their pathetic lives."

++++

Technoblade slashes the saplings with a rapier, taking out his frustrated fury on the innocent young trees, ignoring the twinges of pain. He shouldn't be this weak.

Even before Schlatt started experimenting on him, he was stronger than this. He was powerful. The best fighter, the best tactician, the best at strategy. Now his body is frail and hurts merely to move.

He tries to snarl, but his breath catches in his throat, fear slithering roots into his chest. Irrational. He's being irrational. Technoblade isn't afraid of anything.

Except perhaps the pale blue of scrubs, the glint of scalpels, the searing agony- No! Technoblade scowls and tries to shove the flashes of terror and hunger and bitter, helpless rage away.

Philza approaches him with a cup of tea. Technoblade flinches away, unable to look at the man he failed, the friend he abandoned. "Techno?" Philza sets the tea down on a fallen tree and presses a hand to Technoblade's shoulder.

"Who am I, Phil?" Technoblade begs. Weak. The old Technoblade would never beg, would never cry.

"You're my friend." Philza answers.

"Why aren't I dead?"

"The kids agreed to keep it a secret and wait until the year is up."

"Phil. It's not going to last forever, Phil, you need to kill me soon. I can feel the damn resonancy in my chest. I don't know how long you have, but you need to kill me before I destroy the world."

"Techno." Philza's voice shakes. "No. Techno, we'll find something."

"Find what?? It hurts, Phil. It hurts to move, it hurts to talk... I've killed so many people, Phil, I deserve this, I deserve to die! Kill me, please. The kids are too innocent. They don't need to be turned into murderers like me." He thinks of Quackity, the blazing fire. He thinks of Ranboo, the gentle nightmare. Of Tommy, the merciless sunshine. Each and every student. They deserve better.

"Technoblade." Philza grips Techno's chin and brushes back his hair. "I deserve death as much as you. But I'm going to keep living. There's still people we need to kill, Techno, there's still governments to dismantle! We can't end now! We'll find a cure. A real cure. I promise."

"I don't want you to die."

"Ditto, mate." Philza embraces Techno gently. Techno wraps his arms around his friend, afraid to let go.

#tw violence #tw threats #tw discussions of death #technoblade #ranboo #quackity #philza #niki nihachu #jack manifold #jschlatt #hbomb #karl jacobs #fundy #fanfiction #not rpf #no ship #dream smp au #dream smp

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samiha-kabir · 3 years

Text

1. Make Dua for others

Yes, we all know that. But how can we optimize this? Make dua for others what you want for yourself. We can understand this better with an example. When I was pregnant, I used to pray regularly for normal and easy delivery. But even before I was pregnant I used to pray for my pregnant cousins, relatives and friends that they have easy and normal deliveries. I did this for several reasons.

1. I am extremely scared of surgeries and did not want anyone to undergo them.

2. As a muslim, I am supposed to feel the pain of other muslims and pray for them.

3. They had asked me to pray for them.

4. I can understand their pain as a fellow woman and I had to pray for them.

5. I knew sometime in future, I would be pregnant and Angels are saying “Same be with you.”

Umm Darda’ reported:

My husband reported that he heard Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) as saying: He who supplicates for his brother behind his back (in his absence), the Angel commissioned (for carrying supplication to his Lord) says: Amen, and it is for you also.(Sahih Muslim)

https://sunnah.com/muslim/48/120

So, how can you make dua for others?

Firstly Listen and remember:

1. People share problems with us. Sometimes, just as a passing comment, sometimes with a lot of pain. Listen to them and mentally make a note of all their worries and issues. Not all people will ask you to make dua for them. Make dua for them anyway.

2. Collect and make a dua list for all your friends, family, relatives, neighbors, colleagues and acquaintances.

3. You can stress on duas that have similar needs as yours.

4. Make both general and specific duas.

5. Make dua for people collectively and also individually taking their name.

2. Ask people to make dua for you.

1. Don’t be shy or too proud or arrogant to ask people to pray for you, especially those who are indebted to you.

2. Keep reminding them to pray for you. They may forget one time, but they wont forget when reminded constantly.

3. Be kind. Be so good to people that you won’t even have to ask them to make dua for you. Help them out, relieve them of some of their troubles, make them happy and solve some of their problems. In short, be of use to your parents, family, friends, relatives, colleagues, acquaintances, neighbors strangers, in fact everybody. Duas pour out directly from heart for helpful people.

3. Make lot of duas and many times during the day.

Dua for every single thing.

Ubadah bin As-Samit (May Allah be pleased with him) said:

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “Whenever a Muslim supplicates Allah, He accepts his supplication or averts any similar kind of trouble from him until he prays for something sinful or something that may break the ties of kinship.” Upon this someone of the Companions said: “Then we shall supplicate plenty.” The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “Allah is more plentiful (in responding).”

[At- Tirmidhi].

https://sunnah.com/riyadussaliheen/17/37

Make dua for everything : Every little problem, every minute issue, every small annoyance, every tiny trouble. Allah(swt) did not place a limit on the number or type of duas. Show Allah your dependence on him by constant duas. He loves that.

Duas, prayers, supplications, duaa, why my dua is not accepted?, how to get my supplications granted?, how to make dua, how to benefit from duas, muslim dua, quran duas, duas by muslim.

Created with Muslimify app.

Download Muslimify App here.

4. Ask Allah first.

Suppose, a problem comes up. You know a particular person can solve it. You call him immediately. Stop. Call Allah first. Ask Allah first. Yes, that person can solve your problem but can he do that if Allah doesn’t will it? Are we placing more faith in a human rather than Allah(swt)? We must always believe that everything is from Allah, if Allah doesn’t order than no matter how easy it is for a human to solve a problem, it wont be solved if Allah doesn’t order it.

Always discuss your problems with Allah first. Talk to Him, pour your heart out, seek help and be confident of a positive response.

5. Do a good deed.

Fast, give charity, do sadqah, read Quran or any good deed and then make dua “Ya Allah! I have done this deed solely for your pleasure, please accept it and grant me this need!”

Have a stash of good deeds always ready to “offer”. To have a great deal of them always in stock, you can recite “Subhan Allahi wabihamdihi” or “la ilaha illallahu wahdahu la shareeka lahu lahul mulku walahulhamdu wahuwa ala kulli shayyin khadeer” hundred times.

Abu hurairah (May Allah be pleased with him) reported:

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “He who utters a hundred times in a day these words: ‘La ilaha illallahu, wahdahu la sharika lahu, lahul-mulku wa lahul-hamdu, wa Huwa ‘ala kulli sha’in Qadir (there is no true god except Allah. He is One and He has no partner with Him; His is the sovereignty and His is the praise, and He is Omnipotent),’ he will have a reward equivalent to that for emancipating ten slaves, a hundred good deeds will be recorded to his credit, hundred of his sins will be blotted out from his scroll, and he will be safeguarded against the devil on that day till the evening; and no one will exceed him in doing more excellent good deeds except someone who has recited these words more often than him. And he who utters: ‘Subhan-Allahi wa bihamdihi (Allah is free from imperfection and His is the praise)’ one hundred times a day, his sins will be obliterated even if they are equal to the extent of the foam of the ocean.”

[Al-Bukhari and Muslim].

https://sunnah.com/riyadussaliheen/16/3

Dua, duaa, duas, supplications, prayers, getting duas answered, getting prayers answered.

Top tips to get your duas answered.

6. Give up a sin.

Use Ayat e karima. “La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inni ku tum min-az-zaalimeen.”

Ibrahim bin Muhammad bin Sa`d narrated from his father, from Sa`d that the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

“The supplication of Dhun-Nun (Prophet Yunus) when he supplicated, while in the belly of the whale was: ‘There is none worthy of worship except You, Glory to You, Indeed, I have been of the transgressors. (Lā ilāha illā anta subḥānaka innī kuntu minaẓ-ẓālimīn)’ So indeed, no Muslim man supplicates with it for anything, ever, except Allah responds to him.” (Tirmidhi)

https://sunnah.com/tirmidhi/48/136

While reciting this ayat, think of at least one of your sins that you have committed, are truly regretful about and are willing to give up for the sake of Allah. It could be a regular habit of yours or a one-off incident of disobedience to Allah. Feel true and deep regret, cry over it and make dua.

7. Give thanks.

Allah(swt) says in Holy Quran: “If you give thanks, I will give you more.” (14:7)

http://legacy.quran.com/14/7

If you want more wealth, give thanks for every dollar. Be thankful for what you already have, no matter how meager it is, in order to receive more. Don’t complain or be ungrateful. Watch your tongue, does it express words of appreciation and contentment or utters ungrateful statements?

If you want increase in rizq, recite authentic duas before and after every meal. Say Alhumdulillah often, after every morsel if possible.

8. Be proactive.

Along with prayers, make some effort as well. Do something about it. Do everything you can to make it possible. Show Allah you are working really hard. Consistent efforts combined with dua really does wonders.

9. Imagine and expect positive results.

Ask and you shall receive. Once you have made dua, be positive of a response. Have firm faith that it will be answered and your wish will definitely be granted. Don’t doubt it. You have asked the King. Nothing is impossible for Him. No matter, how big your need is, or how difficult you think your problem is, or how messy your situation is, it is nothing in front of Allah and is very, very easy for him. Kun fayakun. He says “Be” and it is. It is that easy for Allah(swt), the Lord of the worlds. http://legacy.quran.com/36/82

Prophet Muhammad(saw) said : “A supplication should be made in full confidence and one should persistently express his desire (before Allah) in his supplication, for no bounty is too great for Allah to bestow (upon his slaves).” (Muslim )

https://sunnah.com/riyadussaliheen/18/233

10. It’s a win-win situation.

If your dua is answered : say Alhumdulillah. If your dua is not answered say “Alhumdulillah ala kulli haal”. Accept the response and situation gracefully. Be thankful. Always remember that Allah can reverse the condition in a second. So, never be ungrateful.

When your dua is answered, say Alhumdulillah from heart, make sujood, increase in your ibadah and decrease your disobedience. Show gratefulness through both your actions and words.

When your dua is not answered, do the same and more. Because duas that have not been answered are the ones that will benefit you in the long term, i.e., in the hereafter and that truly is the ultimate achievement. The unanswered duas are also “working” to prevent accidents and to dodge troubles from you. They could be the reason you enter Jannah.

Jabir narrated that the Messenger of Allah said: “There is none who utters a supplication, except that Allah gives him what he asked, or prevents evil from him that is equal to it – as long as he does not supplicate for something evil, or the cutting of ties of the womb.” (Tirmidhi)

https://sunnah.com/tirmidhi/48/12

So, remember; Always, always make dua. Dua is ibadah.

You can read daily duas from Hisnul Muslim book.

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storytimefromthecreed · 4 years

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Be Our Guest

Bellec lead them deep into the streets of France, where the only thing darker than the shadows were the minds of its citizens. Whenever he caught the eye of one, Arno found himself so taken aback with sorrow that his footfalls slowed and he stared. When Bellec got too far ahead of him, Arno shook his head and jogged after him. Things in France were dark, and he was a fool to think light could survive here. Steeling himself, Arno removed these thoughts from his mind and stuck close to Bellec’s heels.

The gray stone building grew so that it looked like a castle by the time he’d arrived to it. Craning his neck to take it in, Arno found his breath caught in his throat and his jaw slack. The responsibility of the duty that he was finding bestowed to him suddenly seemed far more daunting now that it was becoming real.

“Keep up, pisspot.” Bellec gruffed, and Arno hurried after him. Their steps echoed off the stone floors, hitting the walls, and reached his ears. The place looked abandoned. Tapestry hung from the archways in tattlers, and there were no torches on the rings lining the walls. Bellec spoke not a word, but lead him deeper into the building, explaining as he went. “This is our Bureau. We train here, hold our meetings, discuss our plans, and are among our own kind.” When Bellec said that, Arno felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Invisible eyes were watching him, but he had no proof. “Right this way, pisspot. They’re going to want to meet you. Keep your head about you, speak only when spoken to, and don’t embarrass me.” Bellec’s jab would have gotten some retort from Arno had he not been so nervous. Instead, Arno nodded.

The wooden doors ran the height of the hallways, and Arno noticed the out of place rungs and beams that decorated the high walls and ceiling. He would have given it more thought, but Bellec pushed open the huge doors and they were inside a large room. Stairs on the left and right led up to form a level, and there were beams and rings on the walls and ceiling. The second floor had doors and halls, but not a person. On the floor was the symbol Arno knew to be the Assassins. It was when he was investigating this symbol that Bellec stepped forward and spoke. “I bring Arno Victor Dorian to the Bureau of Assassins to complete his training and induct him into the Brotherhood.” Bellec’s words echoed and Arno watched the shadows tensely.

For a minute, nothing happened, and Arno’s eyes began to ache as he scanned the room and found nothing. Beginning to think this was Bellec’s idea of a joke, Arno opened his mouth to yell at the old man for wasting his time when the voice made him jump.

“Ma beau, Monsieur.” A man was standing at the center of the second floor, right in front of them. How Arno had missed him, he had no idea. His heart raced, and a faint sweat touched his cheeks and forehead. The man was dressed in a green hood, and his face was covered save for the stern line that was his mouth. Arno tried to gulp, but his mouth was too dry. Then, the air shimmered as if the room was vibrating. The corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair as the Assassin’s Bureau proudly presents, your training.”

The shadows began to shimmer and come alive as the man’s voice gently picked up. “Be. Our. Guest. Be our guest.” With a kick, he flicked his dark green hood to expose his face and the lights in the Bureau began to raise. “Put our service to the test. Tie your napkin 'round your neck, mon ami,” The man kicked towards the stairs, adjusting his tie and giving Arno a brilliant grin. “And we provide the rest.”

The man leapt on the railing and slid down, singing, “Soup du jour, hot hors d'oeuvres. Why, we only live to serve. Try the grey stuff, it's delicious.” With a flip, he landed and bowed low. Draping a hand across his body, he stood quickly and gestured to the darkness. “Don't believe me? Ask the dishes!”

The room lit up, and rows of people appeared. They were formed in kick lines and began to dance as the green-coated man sang, “They can sing, they can dance,” he danced past Arno and saluted him with two fingers before joining the end of the line, “after all, sir, this is France. And a dinner here is never second best.”

They began kicking and as they did, they surrounded Arno. More and more people filed in the room, and Arno couldn’t believe how many people could fit in. “Go on, unfold your menu. Take a glance and then you'll.” The green coat slid to his knees to Arno. “Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest.”

The room began to sing, “Beef ragout, cheese souffle, pie and pudding "en flambe.” The circle tightened before everyone turned around and leapt away. “We'll prepare and serve with flair, a culinary cabaret.””

Only Greencoat remained. Face to face with Arno, he grabbed Arno’s scarf and wrapped it around his head. Frowning madly, he ran one tear down his eye. “You're alone,” then his looked frightened at the dancers. Tugging Arno’s chest to him and he hid behind him, “And you're scared.” Before Arno could push him away, Greencoat released him with a charming smile. “But the banquet's all prepared.” He pushed the corners of Arno’s frown up and danced away to join the others. They all linked, and he spun someone. “No one's gloomy or complaining,” dipping them low, he winked, “while the flatware's entertaining.”

Another booming voice came in and a man placed his axe in the hands of another as he rolled up his sleeves. “We tell jokes,” he jut a thumb to a young Assassin in tan. This man did a back flip off the wall and landed in a handstand before flipping again and landing gracefully amongst the dancers. The Axeman sang, “He does tricks,” opening his arms, more Assassins joined the line, and everyone found a partner. “With my fellow candlesticks.”

Everyone sang, as they twirled and dipped. “And it's all in perfect taste that you can bet. Come on and lift your glass.” They lifted their partners, and the partners pressed their feet to their chests before backflipping off. “You've won your own free pass to be our guest.”

Greencoat opened his arms and swayed his hips, wiping his hand across his forehead. “If you're stressed. It's fine dining we suggest.”

Everyone sang, “Be our guest. Be our guest. Be our guest.”

Everything went dark for a moment, and fear flashed inside Arno. When the lights came back on, a single beam was on Greencoat. Sitting on a ledge, he draped a hand over his face. “Life is so unnerving. For a servant who's not serving.” The Assassins were scattered about in various poses of woe. “He's not whole without a soul to wait upon.”

Axeman clapped Greencoat’s shoulder, frowning. “Ah, those good old days when we were useful. Suddenly those good old days are gone.”

Ghost came in, kicking a rock. “Ten years we've been rusting. Needing so much more than dusting. Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills.” He flexed and then dropped the pose, returning to kicking the rock. “Most days we just lay around the Bureau.” He was close to Arno now. “Flabby, fat and lazy.” He put a hand on Arno’s shoulder and his frown turned completely around. Grinning, he gave Arno la biase. “You walked in and oops-a-daisy!” Doing a backflip off his chest, Ghost ran to join the others, singing, “It's a guest! It's a guest!”

“For fuck’s sake.” Bellec crossed his arms, not impressed. “Is this what you lot have been up to? When Mirabeau gets word of this-”

From the top of the stairs, the Mentor and Master himself emerged. The dancers froze, and Bellec smirked. Mirabeau’s eyes looked around the room, about to question what was going on, until his eyes landed on Arno. A smile stretched across his face, Mirabeau walked down the stairs with a skip in his step, “Sakes alive, well I'll be blessed. Wine's been poured and thank the Lord, I've had the napkins freshly pressed!” Reaching the bottom of the steps, the Assassins flocked, some on their knees, others hanging from the ceiling, their knees secured on swinging seats. They leaned in closely as Mirabeau began his instruction, and groups flocked away to convey his orders. “With dessert, he'll want tea, And my dear that's fine with me. While the cups do their soft shoeing, I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing!” Mirabeau strolled over to him, and Arno felt safe with him. He had kind eyes and looked at all the Assassins as his children. “I'll get warm. Piping hot. Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot?” He pointed, and an Assassin hurried to clean it. “Clean it up! We want the company impressed. We've got a lot to do.” He gave Arno a smile. “Is it one lump or two? For you, our guest?

Arno put up two fingers, and as Assassins rushed off to get his tea, he was pulled into the dance. The company sang, “He's our guest! He's our guest! Our command is your request!” Arno was pulled from one Assassin to another, arms linked together, circling one way and the other before being turned to a new Assassin. His face hurt from laughing so much, but he never wanted this madness to end. “It's ten years since we had anybody here, and we're obsessed!”

Greencoat threw an arm around him, “With your meal, with your ease. Yes, indeed, we aim to please.”

Ghost appeared at his side threw his arm over Greencoat’s. “While the candlelight's still glowing, let us help you. We’ll keep going.”

Axeman appeared and pulled Arno from the two and back into the dance with a spin. “Course by course, one by one, 'til you shout, ‘Enough! I'm done!’” Arno was dizzy when he returned to the center of the circle. Around him, they danced, performing leaps and tricks, did partner dances. All these factors happened by themselves and in unison at the same time.

Before he could realize what had occurred, the circle closed in on him and he was in a tangle of arms. “Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest. Tonight you'll prop your feet up, but for now, let's eat up,” Then, he was soaring. It was terrifying at first, but when he landed in the tangle of limbs again, he laughed. They threw him up again, “Be our guest!” And each time, Arno broke into laughter. Tears in his eyes, his sides hurting, and happiness in his heart. “Be our guest. Be our guest. Please, be our guest!!”

“Come on, pisspot.” Bellec grumbled, and Arno ignored his sore mood.

“Don’t ruin this for me, old man. Call me pisspot once more and we’re going to have a problem.” Arno rolled out of his spot and Mirabeau had his tea ready. Maybe finding a home with the Assassins wouldn’t be as difficult as Arno had thought.

#Arno Victor Dorian #arno dorian #Assassin's creed unity #ac unity #axeman #greencoat #ghost #bellec #mirabeau #The Assassins Do Disney #this is how it should've happened

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retro-scorpio · 4 years

Text

Sexual Tension

I don’t know what else to call this little one shot, so you’re unfortunately stuck with this.

I wrote this short story a little while ago, and it’s basically a college AU featuring Julian Devorak from The Arcana with special appearances from Julian’s sister Portia, Nadia Satrinava, Count Lucio, and Asra Alnazar. I may end up adding to this later, but as of right now this is the finished product.

So, if you’re into fanfiction about characters from The Arcana, then enjoy this story.

Julian has the rather stereotypical reputation of being a loner, so much so that it’s impossible to track him down outside of classes. Even then, he’s an elusive presence in the room, always choosing to sit in the back and keep to himself, his notes, and his cup of black coffee. Rumors spread about him as a result of his mysterious nature, but he doesn’t seem to know about them or care. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t know how true any of it is, because ever since I stepped foot in this university, I’m seeing him just about everywhere I go.

I first got a glimpse of Julian when I bumped into his shoulder as I was trying to find one of my classes. We both apologized, and he directed me to where I needed to go. Later on that same day, I discovered that we were both in the same English class about texts from the Victorian era, and so I opted to sit next to him. He’s always in the campus library the same time I am, hunched over books and scribbling things down in his notebook, and there was even one time where I caught him prancing around outside in the early morning light as if he was part of an imaginary sword fight.

So, I shouldn’t be that surprised to see him at auditions for our school’s fall production of Sweeny Todd, but at the same time it has me wondering just how many more times our paths are going to cross. Perhaps he likes the story as much as I do and wanted to see how our school would adopt it.

“Hello!” a skinny, petite, pale, brunette lady exclaims excitedly at me, startling me and making me flinch slightly. “I haven’t seen your face before. I’m Lizzy.” She extends her hand out to me, and I shake it. Before I can even tell her my name, though, she asks bluntly,

“You don’t know what role you want, do you?”

“Pardon?” Lizzy sheepishly smiles.

“Sorry; I should have warned you in advance that I’m really good at reading people. Being involved in theatre does that to you over time.”

“It’s okay,” I respond. “Especially because you’re right; I’m not even sure if I’ll get a part at all. I just really enjoy the story and thought I’d give this a shot.”

“Have you ever acted before?”

“A couple times, yeah. When I was younger. I’ve always liked the idea of acting, but I’ve not had much time to devote to it.

“Well, here’s your chance to tip your toes back in the water! I think I have the perfect role for you.”

“You do?” I ask. Lizzy enthusiastically nods her head.

“You see that giant group of people over there?” She points out a crowd huddled on the other side of the auditorium, appearing to be watching Julian’s every move and swooning over him.

“They’re all wanting to play the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant.”

“Let me guess: Julian’s playing Sweeny Todd.”

“Unofficially, yes,” Lizzy answers in a hushed tone. “He certainly has all of the traits of the character. The assistant is the most sought after role because in this iteration, they’re Sweeny Todd’s love interest and eventual partner in crime.”

“I thought Mrs. Lovett fulfilled that role.”

“In the classic, yes. This version is a sequel of sorts that answers the question, ‘what if Sweeny Todd didn’t die and instead managed to escape?’ So, he ends up traveling to and settling down in New York, where he picks up an assistant who helps him around his shop. He leads a normal life for five years until his daughter Johanna finds him and confronts him about what he did in London. The assistant happens to overhear their conversation and talks to Sweeny about it later that evening, and he or she—depends on who ends up getting the role—convinces Sweeny to pick up where he left off because there are a lot of corruption and starvation in New York.” Interesting. So, some artistic license has been taken with the story, which could either go really well or quite terribly.

“So, why do you think I would make a good assistant?”

“Because you’re the only person Julian’s noticed walk in here.” Before I can ask for Lizzy to clarify, a booming voice cuts through the chatter, and I’m forced to rush to the large group of people vying to play the assistant.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the voice rings out. It belongs to a tall, blonde man on the stage. “My name is Lucio, and I’m co-directing this play with the help of my dear friend Lizzy. Now, I’ve been told that there’s a long list of people wanting the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant, so we’ll get that out of the way first. Will everyone fitting that description please step to the front of the auditorium and line up horizontally so that I can take a good look at each of you?” It becomes clear quickly that Lucio is pulling out the weeds before anyone even says a line, for he goes down the line and says no to the people he deems unfit for the role. A lot of it seems based on physical looks as he utter phrases like ‘too short’, ‘too fat’, and even ‘too ugly’ to a couple of individuals. By the time he gets to me, I’m finding it hard to swallow, but I try my best to not let Lucio know that I’m nervous. Instead, I look straight at him as he glances over every inch of me.

“Spunky,” he murmurs. I’m not wearing anything grand, so I wonder what brought on that comment. “I like it.” He moves on to the next person, and I hesitantly remain where I’m standing. Even though he gave me a compliment, Lucio didn’t explicitly tell me to stay like he did with the others still in line.

“Alright,” he states once he’s assessed everyone, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “So, for those no longer standing up here, you can either talk to Lizzy and audition for a different role or you can leave for the evening. The choice is yours. As for the rest of you, you’ll be ad-libbing your way through a pivotal scene in the play shortly. Julian, if you would hop on stage please.” Looking back at the seats, I see Julian sprawled out, as if he was right at home. He leisurely untangles himself and makes his way on stage.

“Bring out one of the folding chairs from backstage,” Lucio nearly barks at Julian. As Julian fulfills the request, Lucio tells us that we’ll be acting out the scene in which Sweeny Todd admits his crimes to his assistant.

“Julian will deliver the first line, thus setting the scene, but the direction it goes is entirely up to you. When I have seen enough, or if things are stalling, I will call scene. Remember, only one of you will get the role, so make a good impression. Julian!”

“Ready when you are!” Julian calls back. His voice is surprisingly smooth. The few times we’ve talked, he’s sounded a bit groggy, as though he needed more sleep. Combined with his tall stature, bright eyes, and muscular physique, it makes him quite the dream boat. I can see why so many people want to play his love interest.

“Excellent! You there. Pinky.” Lucio points at a girl with hot pink hair. “You’re up first.” Thank goodness. I did not want to go first. Lucio directs us to sit down in the second and third rows as he plants himself closer to the middle of the auditorium.

I must say, Julian is very good at improving. Not only does he know his character, but he’s also giving his partner opportunities to showcase their talents. Whether they take him up on his offer is another story. Some of them want to steal the scene, and others are using it as a means to flirt with Julian. Meanwhile, Lucio’s patience is slowly growing shorter as no one seems to be exactly who he’s looking for. He’s given everyone nicknames, some of them unflattering as time wears on. Fortunately for me, he calls me Spunky.

When I sit down on the chair on stage, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, envisioning the scene I’m about to play in my head. If this is a pivotal part in the play, then it needs to be full of suspense and drama. Just like that, a plan’s in place.

“Ready?” Julian whispers as I open my eyes back up. I nod my head, and he utters the opening lines.

“Elise, what you heard my daughter say is true. I am—well, was—the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I murdered countless people. Judges, doctors, lawyers, even my own wife. I ran away from London because I didn’t want to get caught, but the truth is all of those people either deserved to die or were wishing for death to be bestowed upon them. I was simply doing the world a favor.”

“I don’t believe you,” I reply. There’s a fleeting moment where Julian’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh, really? And why’s that, dear?”

“How am I supposed to believe that the same man who constantly stubs his toe on furniture and smiles at everyone that he meets is capable of ruthless, calculated, cold-hearted murder? For God’s sake, you can’t even walk into a room without making some sort of mess! You’re always relying on me to keep the shop tidy, and I feel like someone who was into killing people would be able to neaten things up themselves.” Julian sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a pencil.

“So, you don’t believe I have it in me to be a murderer.”

“No, I don’t.” The next thing I know, Julian’s leaning over me, his face inches away from mine and his pencil hovering over my nose.

“Let me tell you something, darling; this tool has helped me make my way up the social chain. No matter how rich a man is, there comes a day where he needs a shave, and I’m the best there is.” He moves the pencil down and presses it against my throat while maintaining eye contact.

“There’s a certain amount of pressure that you need to apply in order to get a smooth, clean shave. If you don’t put enough pressure, you end up missing a few spots. Put too much, and well, you end up cutting him. Draw the knife across the neck fast enough, and you have a dead man suffering from major blood loss.” He presses the pencil harder against my throat to emphasize his point, making it slightly difficult for me to breathe.

“Shall I show you what I mean, Elise, or have I made myself clear?”

“I believe you,” I gasp. He immediately releases pressure and takes a couple steps back, smirking at me.

“Good. Now, if that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I suggest you head up to bed for the evening. We have a long day tomorrow.” He starts walking away from me, but Lucio hasn’t yelled for the scene to end, so I assume that I have to keep going.

“Why America?” Julian stops in his tracks and turns to face me.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you flee to America of all places? You could have easily traveled to France or Italy, but instead you chose New York.” Julian sighs.

“Like I said, I didn’t want to get caught. I wanted to start a new life, and word travels quicker from England to other countries in Europe than it does from England to America. The two countries are separated by an ocean, after all.”

“Have you ever thought about doing it again?”

“Doing what again?”

“Using your profession as a means of…extermination.”

“Elise, I was in a really dark place when I executed that plan in London. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, and if I were to do it again, I’d be signing my own death sentence.” I get up from the chair and slowly walk up to Julian, worried that my next actions are going to make Lucio end the scene.

“My father was killed by a drunk police officer who mistook him for another man, and my mom was raped and beaten by the judge overlooking the case.” I gently place my fingers around his chin and stand on the tips of my toes, bringing my face closer to his.

“The rich and powerful are just as evil and corrupt in New York as they are in London, Mr. Todd. They get to do whatever they want with impunity, even if it costs the lives of innocent, hardworking people. Someone has to make them pay for their crimes, or their offspring will continue being monsters among the human race. Is that something you’re willing to live with?” Julian looks like he’s beginning to run a fever at this point with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. I plant my feet back on the ground and walk around him, heading towards an imaginary door.

“Good night, Mr. Todd.”

“Scene.” Even though Lucio’s voice is the softest it’s been during this entire process, the auditorium is silent enough for it to carry.

“Well, Spunky, I knew there was a reason I liked you. Congratulations, you have the role. Asra, you’ll be Spunky’s understudy, because you’re the only one that has as much chemistry with Julian. Everyone else who was auditioning for the assistant, you can either stick around and try for another role or leave; it doesn’t matter that much to me.”

I end up staying through until the end of auditions, mainly because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to leave or not. Turns out, once all the roles were filled to Lucio’s satisfaction, he gave everyone a copy of the rehearsal times, so it’s a good thing that I stuck around after all. Plus, I got to watch Julian perform on stage. I must say, the way he carries himself when he’s acting is quite entertaining, to say the least.

Speaking of Julian, he practically runs up to me as I’m leaving the auditorium.

“Well, hi, Julian,” I greet him, surprised that he sought me out. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replies quickly, his words rushing together into a jumbled mess. “I was just wondering if you would maybe like to walk with me? Since we’ll be working closely together, I would like to get to know you a little, but it’s totally fine if you just want to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little bit of company.” Julian smiles enthusiatically, and it makes my heart race.

“Great!” The two of us walk outside and start meandering around.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name,” Julian tells me. “Isn’t that weird? We keep seeing each other around campus, and we even share a class together, but I don’t know what to call you.” Is Julian normally this nervous? He’s certainly a fast talker, and he’s rambling a bit.

“My name’s Carina.” He stops in his tracks and gawks at me.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…” What about my name is making Julian awestruck? He doesn’t hate the name, does he?

“Carina was the name of a pet rabbit I had when I was younger. I’ve always liked how sophisticated and beautiful it sounded, and I thought that if I was to have a little girl, she would be called Carina.” He takes a momentary pause and shakes his head before adding,

“Then again, naming a child after a childhood pet isn’t exactly normal.” He continues walking, and I kind of have to jog to catch up to him.

“So, Julian, how long have you been acting? You looked like a professional on stage.” The compliment makes him flush.

“I’ve been acting since I was about five,” he answers softly, avoiding my gaze. “It started with children’s theater and stuff like that, but when I was ten, I attended my first summer drama camp, and my love for acting has grown ever since. Lucio ran the camp, you know. Has for many years.” I had no idea Lucio and Julian had that much history together.

“Do you like working with Lucio?”

“He’s very passionate about his work, which makes him a very intense person to be around. If things don’t go his way, he’s prone to throwing fits and screaming at people. Despite of that, he does manage to put together spectacular shows and treats everyone to a nice party in the end, so I would say working with Lucio is similar to a roller coaster. It’s both scary and exciting at times.”

“I see.” Julian finds a bench and beckons for me to sit down with him. Once we’re seated, he asks,

“What made you decide to try out for this play? Was it in order to get closer to me?” Before I can answer, he quickly backtracks.

“I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. God knows I’m way too insecure to think that way. It’s just that ever since Lucio accidentally let it slip that I would be the male lead in this play, I’ve heard people whispering about me all over campus, revealing to their friends what they would do to me if they got to play the assistant. To be honest, all of the attention makes me sick. I mean, I enjoy being in the spotlight when it comes to acting, but when I’m not on stage, I…”

“You just want to be left alone, don’t you?” Julian clasps my hand and nods his head.

“Well, Julian, if it makes you feel any better, I auditioned because I really enjoy the story of Sweeny Todd and wanted to see if I had what it took to get a role. That’s it. No nefarious intentions involved.” He visibly relaxes.

“Thank you, Carina,” he sighs contently. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, making me look away and blush. This play is going to be interesting, to say the least.

I wish there was a way to describe how today’s rehearsals went without being vulgar, but when you’re forced to repeatedly act out a scene where you’re passionately arguing with someone that you feel unresolved sexual tension towards and from, the most mild way to go about it would be to state that it was like two animals in heat. I’m honestly surprised that Julian and I managed to get through rehearsal without tearing each other’s clothes off on stage in front of everyone in the auditorium to see.

You see, this scene involves Elise, the assistant, yelling her grievances at Sweeny Todd, which revolve around money and sex, and Sweeny shouting that those problems wouldn’t exist if she didn’t essentially tell him to become a criminal again. This of course makes Elise more angry at Sweeny, and the scene ends with her storming out of his room and slamming the door behind her. Lucio calls this scene “the beginning of the end”, because after this point in the play, their relationship quickly becomes toxic to the point where they want to kill each other.

Speaking of Lucio, he’s been a key player in creating the tension between Julian and me, because he continuously forces us to approach the edge of no return, but he never allows us to go over it, not even outside rehearsal. Julian’s trying his best to be a gentleman and abide by Lucio’s rules, but I can tell that he’s getting worn out by constantly pushing down anything he may feel towards me and only allowing those emotions to come out when we’re on stage.

I suppose that’s why Asra pulls me aside as soon as Lucio dismisses us for the evening.

“Carina, there’s something you need to know about Julian,” he tells me softly but firmly.

“Go on…” Asra sighs.

“He’s a bit of a pressure cooker. He shoves any feelings he deems undesirable down until he can’t contain them anymore, and then they explode out of him with no way for him to control them until they’re completely out of his system. And it’s not just feelings like anger or sadness; he can get quite horny as well.” Before I can even reply to anything Asra has said, he quickly adds,

“I’ve seen the way you two have interacted during practice, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Sure, he’ll light up your world, but only for as long as he has to act with you. The moment the curtain drops on the final performance, he’ll throw you away like the burnt match you’ve become while spending time with him.” So many questions zoom through my brain, but right as I pick one to ask Asra, Julian walks to us and practically drags me away from him with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Did something happen between you and Asra?” I ask Julian as we walk outside the auditorium.

“It’s a long story,” Julian mutters scornfully.

“I don’t have anywhere I have to be, so spill.” Julian stops and turns to face me, grabbing my hand as he does so.

“Carina, there are just some things that are best left in the past. Let’s just say that Asra and I aren’t the best of friends.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care so much?” Julian’s voice gets a bit nastier and louder, making me feel defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I nearly shout sarcastically. “It’s not like anyone would get curious if someone told them that a friend of theirs treats people like they were pieces of trash to be disposed of at the first opportunity.” Julian’s eyes briefly widen in shock before decisively narrowing in anger.

“Maybe some people are trash. You try your best to hold on to them because they mean a lot to you, but in the end you have to cut ties before they hurt you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Julian?”

“I’m talking about Asra!” We’re both yelling at this point. “He’s always painting himself as the victim, and he never acknowledges any of his wrongdoings!”

“What?!” Julian lets go of my hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to calm himself down.

“Look, if you want to know the truth, you’re not going to get it from either Asra or me, because we both were self-centered at the time.”

“Then who does know the truth?”

“Why don’t I have you meet her?”

As it turns out, the girl in question happens to be in an apartment Julian lives in. Initially, I thought she was the short, plump, red-headed individual who greeted us when we stepped inside, but then she quickly dragged Julian away, talking excitedly about finally having a subject for the painting she was working on. Before I know it, a door slams, and I’m left alone.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” a smooth, female Indian voice tells me, making me jump out of my skin. When I recover from my shock, I find myself face-to-face with a regal-looking woman. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but her face looks very queenly. I follow her request and sit down in one of the chairs in the kitchen, which is the first room you’re in when you walk inside the apartment.

“You must be Carina,” the woman states, pouring hot water into two mugs and putting in tea bags. “Julian’s told me a lot about you, so I figured it was only a matter of time before he brought you over. I’m Nadia.” She walks over to the table and sits in the chair next to me, handing me a mug as she does so.

“How do you know Julian?” I nervously ask. There’s something about her that tells me that I’d do well to not piss her off.

“In simple terms, I’m a friend of his who’s mentoring his sister. She was the one that you saw first.” I take a sip of tea.

“What about in complex terms?” Nadia smirks at me.

“You’re clever. Julian could stand to be around someone like you.”

“Thank you,” I reply shyly.

“I’m Julian’s…unofficial therapist, you might say. Then again, I’m kind of everyone’s unofficial therapist, except for Portia. Julian’s sister,” she quickly adds upon seeing the confused look in my eyes. “Anyway, I deal with secrets. Secrets that can either bring people together or make them despise each other.”

“How do you do that?”

“Why, I talk to people. I listen to them, note anything interesting, and pass it along to whoever’s interested in it, for a small fee. Speaking of which, I’m sure there’s something you’d like to ask me. I have a feeling Julian didn’t bring you over here just to meet his sister and her teacher.” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I don’t know if you would be able to answer this, but something happened earlier this evening that raised some questions for me.” I quickly recount what Asra and Julian had told me after practice, and Nadia nods her head as I talk.

“To be honest, I’m not surprised,” Nadia responds. “Asra’s quite petty, and Julian can be melodramatic sometimes. They’ve both come to me complaining about the other, and I’ve seen their interactions with each other over the years, so I have a lot of information about the nature of their relationship. I just need one thing from you.”

“I understand.” Nadia smiles, making her look that much more like royalty.

“Good. So, tell me: how do you feel about Julian?” I nearly choke on my tea, and I feel my face start to burn up in embarrassment and something else, something more animalistic.

“I see,” Nadia replies to my nonverbal response. “You’re both pulled so taut that you’re about to snap.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Only because you both blush at the mere mention of the other. How hard has Lucio been pushing you?”

“We’re not allowed to be intimate off stage. We can be friendly, but that’s it.” Nadia sighs.

“Classic Lucio. Gets completely blindsided by Asra and then takes it out on you.”

“What do you mean?” Nadia proceeds to launch into the story of Julian and Asra. Apparently, they started off as rivals because Asra was jealous of Julian becoming Lucio’s favorite without even trying when he had to work tirelessly for two years prior just to get Lucio’s approval. The rivalry was one-sided, though, because Julian was blissfully unaware that Asra felt any ill will towards him.

When Julian was a sophomore in high school and Asra a senior, they ended up being the lead characters of one of Lucio’s original plays. Julian had shot up over the summer and was eight inches taller than Asra, which led to Asra developing feelings for Julian. This, of course, presented some internal conflict for Asra up until Julian had expressed interest back. From there, their relationship burned bright and fast.

Things between them started going downhill quickly when Asra would manipulate Julian into doing sexual things that Julian most likely wouldn’t have done on his own and Julian would either get super clingy or super distant. Nadia had tried to get them to work things out, but as soon as the final show ended, Julian broke up with Asra and ghosted him as much as he possibly could.

“So, why exactly would Asra care about my wellbeing if he really doesn’t care for Julian?” I ask Nadia once she’s done with her tale.

“Well, once Asra and Julian broke things off, Julian developed the habit of getting romantically close to his costar only to drop them once the production was over. Since you’re pretty new to the acting world, Asra wouldn’t want your experience to be soured by anything Julian does. At least, that’s what he’s told me.”

“But?” Nadia smirks knowingly.

“You’re the first person since Asra that’s made Julian…I don’t want to say lovestruck, because that sounds overdramatic, but maybe pleasantly nervous.”

“Really?” She nods her head.

“If you stay over here long enough this evening, Julian’s bound to show you what I’m talking about.”

Julian’s managed to contain himself, all things considered. His sister Portia kept teasing him about me, Nadia awarded her with smirks, smiles, and some extra dessert, and it seemed like every other commercial on TV was based on a cheesy romantic comedy.

But then Nadia leaves for the evening and Portia goes off to bed and Julian starts channel surfing only to stumble upon a show that featured a girl moaning loudly as a guy’s using his dick like a jackhammer to drill an additional hole into her.

That’s when I can tell that some frayed strings in Julian are snapping. His face becomes flushed, his eyes dilate with a mixture of shock, horror, and arousal, and his mouth’s agape at the scene unfolding in front of him. I myself am having a difficult time keeping my composure, but I’m able to remain sane long enough to gently take the remote from Julian’s hand and shut the TV off. In a blink of an eye, my hand replaces the remote as Julian turns his body so that he’s facing me.

“C-Carina,” he stammers. “I…I’ve been trying so hard, and I—” As quickly as he grabbed my hand, I place my index finger on his lips and lean close to him. Somehow, his face becomes even redder.

“Julian, what do you want to do to me?”

“I don’t know if I should—” I cut his sentence abruptly by clamping my hand over his mouth.

“Just nod or shake your head, okay?” Julian nods his head, his gray eyes sparkling in the living room light.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Nod.

“Do you want to make out with me?” Nod.

“Do you want to run your hands all over my body?” Nod.

“Do you want to leave bites all over me?” A more hesitant nod.

“Do you want to do to me what the man on the screen did to that girl?” A very slow, almost ashamed nod, but a nod nevertheless.

“I want you to listen to me, Julian, because I’m only saying this once. When I remove my hand from your mouth, I want you to do me on this couch. You can go as rough or soft as you want, but I don’t want you to stop until you’ve orgasmed. I don’t care what Lucio’s going to say when he sees us at our next rehearsal; his decisions have pulled you so taut that you’re snapping right in front of me as we speak. Do you understand?” After a moment of serious contemplation, a quite shy nod.

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m leaving you to do whatever you want.” Nod.

“One.” Julian swallows.

“Two.” Something inside me quivers in anticipation.

“Three.” Time gets jumbled for about five seconds, and when it straightens itself back out, Julian and I are at the other end of the couch; he’s moved on top of me and is frantically kissing every part of me that he can touch. I can’t really keep up with him, not that I’m complaining.

#thearcana #juliandevorak #portiadevorak #asraalnazar #nadiastratinava #countlucio #collegeau

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

Text

‘The Absent Father and Spider-Man’s Unfulfilled Potential’: Rebuttal Part 6: Tony Stark

Master Post

It’s time for another confession.

I actually began writing this essay series a long while back but took a hiatus for various reasons. Back then I was summarizing Fettinger’s own words and responding because I had no access to a digital edition of his essay.

Now I’ve got (a little) spare time on my hands and so can finally finish what I started. But since my time isn’t limitless I’m going to save myself time and energy by just use screengrabbing passages s of his essay from Google books.

Where Google books has blank pages I have improvised and taken photos of the pages myself. It’s not a neat or tidy solution I admit but it was the best I could do on such short notice.

Notice here how Fetinger acknowledges Peter had to struggle for financial support whilst Tony never had that problem. It’s almost like he’s pointing out a huge difference between them which makes his initial comparison to them back in parts 1-2 a massive false equivalency or something.

Again with this bullshit. Yes peter would benefit from an upgraded outfit but he never had access to the tech and resources that Tony had. He was never in a position to construct a nanotech suit.

Peter was 30 YEARS OLD during Civil War. Fettinger even did the math on that himself in one of his articles that’s been lost to time.

How the fuck is 30 a ‘young man’??????

Not to mention, the example Tony set is a false equivalency. Tony didn’t have any loved ones particularly vulnerable if people knew his secret identity. They would’ve been in slightly more jeopardy at worst. But Peter had school students, a young godson and dozens of civilian friends and acquaintances that didn’t have the same protection Tony could offer Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, etc.

Not to mention there was less than 18 years between Peter and Tony. Hardly a father/son dynamic is it. Big Brother/Little Brother maybe. But it never made sense in the comics Fettinger is referring to.

HORSESHIT!

Let’s put aside how Peter wouldn’t be as impressionable as Fettinger makes out because he was a 30 year old married man who’d shouldered an adult’s responsibility for half his life and matured fast as a result.

Fettinger frames the discussion disingenuously. He plays it as though Peter is actively opposed to authority or somehow resents it. On the contrary, Peter tried to join the police force in Untold Tales #1; a fact Fettinger himself referenced in the George Stacy segment of his essay. He changed his mind specifically because he’d have to reveal his identity.

Spider-Man is only subtextually an anti-authority figure, and even then it’s never been consistent. Peter clearly holds a certain belief in law and order as he makes it his business to catch criminals and protect the public from threats.

He respects the police in general in spite of their disdain for him. Even that’s not wholly consistent because figures like Captain Stacy, Detective Jean DeWolff, her partner Stan Carter, Arthur Stacy (brother of George) and (in JMS’ run) Detective Lamont were more tan willing to work with the wall-crawler.

Peter hasn’t got a problem with authority nor does he have a craving for acceptance by them. If he did he had various options to obtain it. He sabotaged his own chances to join the Avengers in ASM Annual #3. He has used alternate identities that received a better public reception than his Spider-Man persona but actively chose to remain as Spider-Man instead.

He respects authority but he just values his independence too highly is all. Which is another reason why Fettinger’s point about Tony taking Peter AND Spider-Man under his wing doesn’t fly. Peter isn’t some kid looking for legitimacy. He was a respected teacher to children. He was a mature adult who’d cared for his family off his own back for years. He was a happily married man. He’d come of age and self-actualized as an adult long before Tony showed up to be his benefactor.

This would’ve maybe added up for a 25 (at most) year old single Peter not too long out of college. But as things stood Fettinger’s assessments are totally hollow.

Tony didn’t even give Peter legitimate employment considering Peter was still a teacher at the time. His employment under Stark was for appearances sake. Peter was also too old to care anymore about his stature or legitimacy. Maybe it might’ve irked him but he wasn’t going to sell out for the sake of it.

Indeed ASM #532 depicts Peter unsupportive of unmasking until Aunt May convinces him. Even then he changes his mind the next day before changing it back.

But this change, along with the over all decision, is simply ridiculous.

Peter teaches children. He has a pre-teen godson. His friends are predominantly normal civilians, many of whom are middle aged at least. His aunt was in her 70s and his wife has been targeted by various super villains throughout the years. His first love was murdered because a single lunatic learned who he was.

Simply put Peter would never agree to unmask. Not for Tony or anyone. It’s simply not the responsible thing to do. In a contest between his stature/legitimacy and loyalty to his (very new) benefactor Tony vs. the lives of his loved ones (including his mother and wife, both of whom he’s believed dead before) the latter will always win.

Indeed Peter alludes to this mentality in ASM #530.

The idea that 30 year old married man Peter would compromise on that because a man not old enough to be his father (who had never had as mature a relationship with a woman as he had) took him under his wing is…well…it’s a broken interpretation of the character.

That’s not a hero. That’s not responsible. That’s not even flawed. That’s a man without his own mind and agency who can be swayed and sell out with ease.

And baby, that ain’t Spider-Man!

According to Fettinger this is Spider-Man.

Oh and you know Peter himself!

This is yet another reason why Peter siding with Tony was horseshit. He’d be inclined to support Cap much more than the guy who took him under his wing for a few months.

It’s almost like Peter holds higher values that trump any affection or ‘gifts’ Daddy Stark bestowed upon him.

It’s almost like there is less than 18 years between them or something?????????

Fettinger can’t seem to make up his mind.

Is Peter going to alter his value system to comply with Tony’s desire for him to unmask? Or is Tony’s value system incompatible with Peter’s?

Because if it is the latter then why would he endanger his loved ones by unmasking!

Master Post

#Tony Stark #Iron Man #Anthony Stark #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Civil War 2006 #j. michael straczynski

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atths--twice · 4 years

Link

Faith for the Future

Chapter Five

Poetry to the Soul

Scully reads the journal Mulder has been working on and is overcome by his words of love.

7e/15

The warm spring air blew gently as Scully sat on the porch swing with Mulder’s laptop resting across her knees. Words from the journal he had been working on covered the expanse of the screen in front of her, but she was finding it hard to read them through her tears.

An hour earlier, upon arriving home from the baby yoga class, she found Mulder sitting on the porch swing with his laptop beside him. He stood and smiled when she pulled up, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rose up giving her a quick view of his stomach, something she always enjoyed seeing. After stretching, he came down the steps to greet her and take Faith from her car seat.

“She needs to eat,” Scully told him as he opened the door and unbuckled Faith. “She fell asleep at the end of class, and I didn’t want to wake her. Now, I wish I would have because my breasts are aching, and I’m sure she’s going to start demanding her lunch soon.” She grabbed her things out of the car and shut the door, walking up the steps ahead of him.

Setting everything on the porch, she heard him talking to Faith and it warmed her heart. Turning around, she watched him nuzzling at her neck, and she smiled. He caught her watching him and grinned. Stepping up onto the top step, he handed her over, kissing Scully quickly on the lips. She smiled at him as Faith started whimpering and turning toward her chest.

“Yes, my love, I know,” Scully said quietly, stepping toward the swing and sitting down. She lifted her shirt and opened her nursing bra, situating Faith to nurse. She did not need much coaxing, turning toward the food source instantly, hungry and ready to eat. She latched on and begin to nurse, causing Scully to close her eyes and sigh with relief.

She opened her eyes when she heard Mulder shifting around on the porch. Shaking her head, she sighed again. “I can’t describe to you the relief I feel when she latches on when my breasts are so full.” She looked down at Faith and smiled, watching her eat, her eyes closed as she did.

“Scully, come on,” he said, breaking into her thoughts and causing her to look up at him. “It’s not fair to talk about your breasts when they’re out and naked, yet wholly unavailable to my touch.”

“They were available to your touch last night if I remember correctly,” she said with a smirk. “To which you took full advantage.” She winked at him as he crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the porch. She looked down at Faith again, undoubtedly feeling the same sense of contentment as her, as the wind blew gently around them.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and sighed. She felt him sit next to her on the swing and moved her head to rest on his shoulder. “How was the last day?” he asked her quietly. She raised her head and opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she sighed.

“You signed up for another month of classes, didn’t you?” he said with a smile.

“I did,” she said sheepishly, and his smile grew wider.

“Good,” he nodded. She sighed, placing her head on his shoulder once again. They sat quietly, the only sound around them was that of Faith nursing, and her symphony of happy baby noises.

Switching to the other breast, he was able to touch Faith’s head and stroke her soft dark hair. Recently, they had been sitting on a blanket in the yard. The sun shining down had highlighted her hair and red had shone through, bringing a smile to his face. Lifting Faith, he had told her again how beautiful she was and how much he loved her.

“When she’s finished, I’ll take her. I’m going to go inside and get you a cup of tea and a couple of those shortbread cookies for you to enjoy as you read. As promised, I have the journal ready for you to read, so sit here and just relax,” he said as he stood to gather the items he had mentioned. She nodded, smiling as she stared at him. He leaned forward and again kissed her lightly on the lips before walking inside.

“My girl,” she said, looking down at Faith after she watched him walk away. “We are two very lucky women to have a man like your Daddy in our lives. He will drive you crazy. Yes, my love, he will. But you will also never find someone who loves you more than he does. Of this, I am certain. One day, the person for you will come along, and you will know it’s the perfect one because of the love bestowed upon you by your father. He will have paved the way for you to recognize how a person should be loved. It’s the simple things that your Daddy does that shows his love - a cup of tea, a blanket when you’re chilly, a simple touch of his hand, his eyes on you as you speak, the smile he gives you- anytime, and his undivided attention. Faith, you are already so loved by him. The two of you are going to be thick as thieves and best friends.” Faith, entranced by her mother’s words, unlatched from her breast and stared up at her, her big blue eyes searching before she gave her a huge smile. Scully smiled back and moved her to her shoulder to burp her, covering herself up as she did.

“Yes, you two are going to be the best of friends,” she whispered as she patted Faith’s tiny back, and kissed her sweet smelling neck.

The screen door creaked as Mulder stepped out, a tray in his hands. She raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged, carefully setting the tray down beside her. He placed his hand on Faith’s back and kissed her head. Scully smiled as she watched them, the best of friends already.

He glanced at her, and she nodded. Taking Faith from her, he murmured to her and bounced her lightly in his arms. Learning the hard way, he knew that bouncing her too much led to a milk-covered shirt and face. Scully tried to hide a smile at the memory of his surprised look when the vomit hit him.

“Not too much bouncing, I know,” he said looking at her. “Believe me, I don’t want that to happen again.” Scully laughed, and he smiled at her.

“Okay, I’ve got her, you’re all set up with tea, a snack, and the laptop. Squatch and I will head inside, have some tummy time, a diaper change, and maybe chew on something to soothe those aching gums. Does that sound good, my sweet?” he said, holding Faith from him to look at her. She grinned her toothless grin and laughed, causing him to look over at Scully and grin.

“God, I love hearing that laugh, little one. Okay, let’s give Mama some space." He moved her to the crook of his arm and walked close to Scully. “Take your time, there’s a lot in there.” She put her hands on his face and leaned up for a kiss. He kissed her softly and stepped back, waving Faith’s hand at her as he walked into the house. She heard muffled music begin to play, and she smiled.

Taking a breath, she picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. Sighing as she tasted it, exactly as she liked. Such a good man. She picked up a chocolate covered shortbread cookie and took a bite, closing her eyes as she enjoyed her treat.

Grabbing the laptop, she opened it and typed in his password, finding the document already open. She smiled at the title he had chosen and put front and center- Stories for Squatch. Even better were the words under it in parentheses- open to other titles. Shaking her head, she began to read the words he had written.

“My girl, my Squatchy, my Faith-

I have decided to write this journal/story/diary for you to preserve the past and be prepared for the future. You will one day have questions, so many questions, as my DNA runs through your veins. I want to be prepared for that day and not stand there with a stunned look on my face. So, get ready, this is going to be a wild ride. It will not be in any order, except for the beginning. We need to start where it began.”

Scully smiled and settled back in the cushions of the porch swing. She read what he told her last night, how he saw her when she walked in the office, his confusion over his want for her to leave but also his desire her to stay.

“Faith, I was so confused how I felt about your Mama. Not as a woman, but as a partner. I already said that I did not want a new partner, because they slowed me down with their inane questions, but your mother was different. She did not slow me down, she sped me up.

That first case together, we had what I thought was proof of an extraterrestrial, and I flew around the autopsy room in my excitement. I was snapping pictures, determined that it was an alien, but your Mama’s cool head and scientific mind kept me grounded. While it may have deflated me a little, it also halted the wildness from getting out of control. She kept me down to earth and not looking and chasing after lights in the sky, about to run off a cliff.”

Scully wiped tears from her eyes as she read his words. There was so much beauty in what he was saying. Mulder had a way with words she knew that, but to read them about their partnership, in a letter to their daughter affected her in a different way.

She smiled as she saw an added portion labeled with an asterisk. It was what she had told him last night regarding her memories of that night in the motel room. He had written down what she said almost verbatim. Bless him and his eidetic memory.

She laughed as she read about Kroner, Kansas and Chaney, Texas, but she made a mental note to begin whispering Team No Buck Teeth to Faith as she held her. No chance was she going to let him tip the scales in his favor and not say something about it.

Seeing the words The Falls at Arcadia she grinned, remembering her own feelings and thoughts from that case. She had enjoyed being with him every day, and while she acted like she did not like his constant touching of her, she did. Yes, he had gone overboard with it, but it felt wonderful to be held, even if she was simply playing a part. Looking at the screen, she began to read his words.

“Okay, little one, let me tell you about this case. It was probably the most fun I’ve had while on an assignment. Well, that was before your Mama and I … well, anyway. We had to go undercover and pose as a married couple to figure out what was happening in a hoity-toity neighborhood. Your Mama was not so pleased, but oh honey, I was thrilled.

We were staying in a huge house that, I am sorry my love, we will never live in, not ever ... Four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, an office, and a big backyard. While nice, it was not a place I would ever feel comfortable. Too many rules to follow for your dear old dad. But, I was not really as concerned about that as I was about the case. We were there to work.

Work yes, but what I liked most about this case, was spending time with your Mama. She and I were close, of course, but this was different. We were together day and night, and I loved it.

The first night we were there, we had to set up the house, not knowing how long we would be there. Putting the bed frame together, making the bed, unpacking things we would need, it felt like we were really moving in together. We made a meal together from the groceries we bought. It was just spaghetti, but it was good and we enjoyed each other’s company as we ate.

After we ate and cleaned up, we were tired and ready to sleep. Mama took the main bedroom and the bed, while I stayed on the couch, but we did share the master bathroom. Being in there together, I watched Mama take off her makeup, wash her face, and brush her teeth. I cannot recollect what any of our discussions were about, but I do remember the way your Mama would smile at me, and the way I felt when she did.

I left the bedroom the first night, went down to the living room, sat on the couch, and thought about the day and how it felt pretending to be a couple. It was fun, but it was fake, and I wanted the real thing.

It would not be for a while, but I discovered what it was like to really live with your Mama. To spend my days and nights with her. Hearing her laugh, watching her smile, holding her in my arms as well as my heart, was and is the best thing I have done in my life.

Honey, the pretending case was fun, but it was nothing compared to the real thing. My life has been exponentially better because I have lived it with your Mama.”

Scully wiped her eyes again and shook her head. Reading the words of his love. A love that had been there for so long, filled her stomach with butterflies and her heart with longing. Last night she told him she had known he loved her, even without him saying it, and it had been the truth. Of course, she had known just as he had, but seeing it written down was like poetry.

She took a deep breath and ate another cookie before reading more of the journal, needing a few moments to collect herself. The wind blew again, and she closed her eyes as the swing rocked from it. Mulder’s laughter and Faith’s answering squeal made her smile and open her eyes. She glanced back at the screen and began to read again.

“So many cases led us to the woods, whether on purpose or on accident, we often found ourselves in a forest. This particular case we fell upon completely by accident. We were driving on our way to a team building seminar (I know) and had to stop as a search party was in progress. A man had gotten lost, and the local police were looking for him.

I was ready to do whatever I could to get out of that car and away from that seminar, so I enthusiastically joined the team. The other agents we were driving with, whose names I no longer remember, were gung-ho team spirit type people. I did not fit into the group. Mama stayed behind while they continued on, and we found ourselves in the woods with two other people in our group.

I need to backtrack for a second and make mention of something, something for your Mama, who will undoubtedly read this. The night before we ventured into the woods, Mama came to my room with cheese and wine since I ‘wouldn’t be making it to the conference’ after all. I was already engrossed in the missing man’s case, so I failed to see what was happening. I was an idiot. A complete idiot.

Not long before this trip, Faith, your Mama was very sick. I … I almost lost her, and I was, well, scared I would lose her again. I was stupid and instead of telling her I loved her, I fell back into our same routine. I kept her at arm's length and made jokes because I was still scared she might leave me and that I would be broken again. I could not fathom that, so I pushed away instead of pulling her towards me.

Scully. I was such an idiot. I missed out on wine and cheese with you in a shabby motel room. If I could go back, I would have turned around, taken my jacket off, asked for a glass of wine, and sat down next to you on the bed. I would have asked how you were feeling and if you wanted to actually be on this case. I would have listened to you And if what you wanted was to go to that seminar, I would have booked a flight that night. If I had known, if I had paid attention, I would have done so many things differently.”

Tears falling down her face, she closed the laptop, unable to read anymore. She took a deep breath to calm herself, her mind in the past and the day she had come to his motel room. It was a friendly gesture, but under it, she did have other thoughts on her mind.

Her cancer had stolen so much from her. Some days she had wanted to just scream. Her joy for life had diminished on days when she felt so sick. She had feared that Mulder would think she was unable to keep up, and that had been the last thing she wanted. If he had resented her for it, it would have killed her.

She knew now that it was a silly and misplaced feeling, but in those moments of self-wallowing and worry, it was as real as the next breath she took. On that night, she threw caution to the wind. Asking the motel owner where she could find a nearby store, she had called a cab and picked up the items she would need. Her heart had pounded to the point where she had considered tossing it all together, but for once, she was determined to not chicken out.

Of course it had gone to shit, as it would have at that point in their journey. Neither were truly ready, but she was so sure they would have gotten somewhere. He left, off on the next monster chase at the mere mention of of something unexplained out in the woods. She knew it was wrong to assume he would know what she wanted when she had not verbalized it, but it had not dampened the sense of frustration and rejection she had felt at the time.

She sighed and shook her head, opening her eyes. “Not anymore,” she said with a slow smile. After hearing the heartbeat of their second miracle baby for the first time, they had made a promise to each other. No more holding back, no more darkness, and no more monsters.

Moving the laptop beside her, she stood from the swing and walked toward the screen door. She pulled it open carefully, avoiding the creak that would announce her arrival. Mulder had his back to her, swaying to a song playing softly, as he held Faith on his shoulder.

When you came to me with your bad dreams and your fears Was easy to see, you'd been crying Seems like everywhere you turn, catastrophe it reigns But who really profits from the dying? I could hold you in my arms I could hold you forever I could hold you in my arms, oh I could hold you forever

He turned, catching sight of her standing there with a smile on her face, and motioned her over. He pulled her to him, one of her arms going around his waist the other on Faith’s back, her head on his chest.

When you kissed my lips, with my mouth so full of questions My worried mind, that you quiet Place your hands on my face Close my eyes and say Love is a poor man's food With no proper side I could hold you in my arms I could hold you forever And I could hold you in my arms I could hold you forever

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she whispered back, wrapping her arm tighter around him.

So now we see how it is This fist begets the spear Weapons of war Symptoms of madness Don't let your eyes refuse to see Don't let your ears refuse to hear You ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness I could hold you in my arms I could hold on forever And I could hold you in my arms I could hold on forever

She tilted her head up to look at him and saw his eyes change from happy to concerned. “You’ve been crying,” he said softly, worry in his voice.

“I couldn’t stop the tears, Mulder. That journal is beautiful. Faith is going to love it,” she said with a smile.

“Did you finish it?” he asked, and she shook her head. “How far?”

“The Mothmen.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he said, smiling sadly. She shook her head again, rubbing Faith’s back.

“Everything happens for a reason,” she said, hoping to convey what she meant by her words and the position of her hands, one on Faith and the other on his bicep. He stared at her, nodding slowly, his smile growing.

She wrapped her arm around him again, her head laying against his chest, as they swayed slowly, a new song beginning to play.

“Just so you know, you should plan on it raining again tonight,” she said, lifting her head again. “Sleeping bags.”

He looked at her and laughed softly, shaking his head, before pulling her to him again. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“No sugar, Sherlock.”

______________________________________________

We have reached the end of the story. I truly hope you enjoyed the tale I have spun. I love these characters just living their life, moving forward, and being happy. They so deserve it.

Oh! The song in the story is Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne. It’s on my XF shuffle. ❤️

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Love #Happiness #Journaling #Memories #Sharing the past #This is the life they deserve #I love them so much

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