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daylighted · 7 months ago

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alec mcdowell & transgenic!user - a million kisses ㅤ ┊ ㅤ (18+!)

i want someone to promise me a million kisses and more . . . or, he's your first everything; first, and second, and fifth, and tenth.

includes, MDNI. ㅤ explicit sexual content ㅤ (light ) breeding kink ㅤ unprotected p in v ㅤ first times! ㅤ fluffy smut ㅤ like genuinely sickly sweet ㅤ soft dom!alec ㅤ best friend!reader ㅤ dirty talk ㅤ talks you through it creampie (hate this word sm sorrY)

req by @foxylady493 hehe thank u for giving me an excuse to write ab rawdoggin alec mcdowell HAHA

word count: 6.2k and for what like genuinely.

★ ˚⋆

somewhere, in one of the books that joshua had stolen for you, with a well worn cover and soft pages, with faded ink painting the front cardstock, you'd read something that stuck with you. i want someone to promise me a million kisses.

it was one of those passing thoughts that embeds itself into your psyche, a physical thing lodged between the folds of your brain, making itself evident every time you tried to forget it. a million kisses... and you'd never had one.

hell, you'd never even wanted to. you were everything manticore wanted you to be; loyal to the greatest extent, dedicated to your training, dominating the rest of the x5 series by a long shot — well, alongside your best friend alec.

alec, who really kept you motivated and on your toes, because he was so effortlessly good. he could sprint the entire forest on the grounds' base three times while you'd be on your second. he could pick you up with ease, and often did, urging you to work on your strength that little bit more so that you could do the same to him.

he was lifting you with one arm, actually, when you'd both been called back to your cells abruptly. it was awkward, in a way, moreso than it would have been for any normal human being, because of how unfamiliar you were with awkward situations. having to be sat down so you could properly address the guard in front of you, the same one who'd just been watching the both of you try and lift each other like barbells?

it only managed to get worse, somehow, when you were both ushered into your cell, followed by one of the directors, a woman with short blonde hair and a fierce stare.

something about this felt like a punishment, or a bad omen. how could you know, then, what a turning point this was going to be for you? the both of you?

"stand down, 494, 490." her lips are quirked with knowledge she isn't sharing, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "no need for formalities. not... for this."

you know better than to say a word out of turn, and so does alec, but you feel his confusion radiating off of him, a mirror image of your own, in the way his shoulders tense back.

her lips curl higher, a tight lipped smile that looks almost sinister in the dull lighting of your cell. "you are both aware of the situation with our labs, i imagine," she continues, slowly, like she's waiting for one of you to piece it together. "all of our genetic data, up in flames, and no way to continue creating soldiers to uphold the legacy the two of you are sure to bring."

directors do not ever come in with compliments, especially so strong, without something up their sleeves. "unless..."

it's one word, but it hits you and alec like a wave. him first, as he draws in a sharp breath, and then you, your stoic expression faltering at once. unless they use their current x5s to make those soldiers.

"it's only natural to pair you two off, what with how... close, you've gotten, over these years." there was a shared trauma that rooted the two of you to each other. him, being a clone of x5-493, and you, of 491.

something was off in their coding, a mixture of genetics and dna that didn't mesh. people were tightlipped about 493 and the seemingly endless amount of death he left in his wake, but they were sure to remind you about 491, the only one who, seemingly, kept his head screwed on straight the rare times that it was.

i want someone to promise me a million kisses... did she feel the same way? did he manage a million before his life was taken? you couldn't help but wonder it, especially with how many times the words killer kisser were thrown in your face. maybe that was why you were so attached to the idea of being kissed. you were stuck on the outside of a secret, wondering how kisses could render a troubled man's mind silent for a little while.

you had zoned out without realizing, stuck in a past that didn't belong to you. "are we clear?" the woman asks, her eyes lingering particularly long on you.

your face flushes with shame. shame for not listening, for missing the entire purpose of this conversation because you'd been daydreaming about an obscene amount of kisses for one person to receive.

alec speaks up for you, saving you from a potential reprimand or punishment, as he often did. "all clear."

"good." her eyes stay on yours for a beat too long, like she's daring you to break, before she nods once. "you've got one hour."

and with that, she stalks out of the room, the guards waiting on either side of your open door stepping out of line to trail behind her. the door hisses shut, and then it's just you and alec. you should know why. if you'd listened—

"you could have been less obvious, you know," alec says with a scoff of laughter, as he breaks his straight-backed stance and crosses to your bed in the corner. he sinks down on it, strong enough that his weight bounces on the springy mattress, legs spread open as he made himself right at home.

you blink once, twice. "less obvious with what?"

"oh, i don't know," his lips twist in mock thought, before they tilt into a dazzling smile, "starin' off like you don't even know where you are."

"i was just—"

"not listening. yeah, established, nelly." alec's eyebrows raise in his amusement, strong arms folded nearly over his chest. "you're gonna be confused as hell when i start taking my clothes off, then."

you splutter, wordless sounds falling out in a flustered heap. "what?"

his head falls back in a fit of laughter, loud enough that it echoes off of the walls. "god, you really weren't listening!"

"just spit it out! what are you talking about?"

slowly, the smile tapers away, his laughter trails off, and you're just looking at each other. "gonna have to copulate, you and i."

your expression drops. any trace of amusement dissipates, a cold, icy feeling of dread flooding your veins. no. no. you couldn't. not with him. not when it would ruin—

a million kisses, a million kisses, a million kisses.

it always came back to that, didn't it? "no," you say aloud firmly, like your rejection can somehow reverse the fact that it has to happen. has to, because you would never betray a direct order. this was something being entrusted to you. "alec..."

"relax," he says, his hands up in surrender. "i'm not gonna just... force you to, nelly, c'mon." his hands fall into his lap again, a sigh leaving his mouth. "s'not easy for me either, this. i mean, you're my best friend."

was he suggesting that things would change once this started? that thought made your blood feel cold in your veins, ice crystallizing in the sinew, making your bones feel heavy and stiff.

"nelly." alec snaps his fingers, drawing your attention back to him and not the dread in your stomach. it always works, when he calls you the name he'd not-so-affectionately given you during training, once. negative nelly & smart alec. "c'mon, it's not— it's not gonna be that bad. kinda bruisin' my ego that you're this torn up about it."

you choke on a laugh, your fingers lifting to run through your hair. "shut up, alec."

"'shut up, alec,'" he mimics back at you, one corner of his mouth lifting higher in a softer grin. "has that ever worked, nell?"

you shake your head, in exasperation and answer, finally crossing the small expanse of the room to drop down onto the edge of your bed next to him. his thigh is pressed up against yours, a warm, familiar comfort when everything feels uncertain.

it's loaded now, this silence that falls between you. heavy like a weight and thick like fog. his eyes are on you —you can feel them, too— and it's jarring, how one direct order can flip an entire world on its axis.

you turn to meet those green eyes of his, and then alec's leaning in, suddenly, and it takes a blink for you to realize it. you startle, feeling hot and icy and flustered all at once. "i’ve never done this,” you blurt out, and how fucking embarrassing is that, confessing it like a sin?

“in what world do you think i have?” alec shoots back, his eyebrows raising in punctuation to the question. “i’d rather it be with you than someone else.”

your heart is racing uncomfortably quick, an unfamiliar flutter against your ribcage. “okay.”

“yeah?” he asks, and his large hand lifts, too, to rest his warm palm on the side of your cheek. his fingertips graze behind your ear, tangling in your soft hair. “yeah, okay, nelly.”

his thumb grazes gently over your cheekbone, like a final reassurance before you’re no longer dipping your toes into this idea but diving fully into its depths. his fingers on the back of your neck guide you toward him, until your breaths are mingling and getting to know each other.

your lips meet. the world stops.

it makes sense, now, how 491 could leash 493 with nothing but the press of her lips. it also makes sense why she stayed, despite all of the warning signs he must have given off, if alec’s lips were any indicator of how ben’s were.

the kiss is tentative at best, at first. he’s not coming any closer, and you’re sat ramrod straight on the bouncy mattress, and the only thing connecting you besides your mouths is the hand he keeps on your cheek. you imagine that this is how first kisses always feel; awkward and uncertain, as this new kind of trust builds itself from the ground up.

one kiss out of a million. how were you supposed to kiss anyone else, now, when this one felt so special?

he pulls back first, but his hand stays on your face, the other sneaking its way across the space between you and landing on yours in lap.

“not so bad, was it?” alec asks, a reassuring smile gracing his face. his thumb returns the gentle strokes over your cheek, his eyes sweeping over the expression you wear.

no, it wasn’t that bad. but your mind isn’t on the kiss but what’s supposed to come next. “how long are we supposed to… um…”

you’d never been the shy type around alec, but suddenly now, it feels like every word is lodged tightly in your throat. suddenly, he feels like a stranger instead of your best friend, this territory unfamiliar and scary, in its own way.

“until you’re pregnant,” he says easily — and of course it’s easy for him, he’s not the one that has to carry a genetically enhanced baby to term. “but—”

“no,” you say, raising a hand to cut him off. “no, i heard you.”

“but, we don’t have to start now, nelly,” he slows his words down, like delivering the blow more gently will somehow lessen the sting. “we don’t. it’s… it’s an order, yes, but you’re still my best friend, and i want you comfortable.”

that did reassure you. you’d have to commit to the orders given eventually, but for now? this was just… a prolonged break in the courtyard, where you could hang out without precaution.

“kinda like this new development, though,” he adds, that wicked grin of his tugging up onto his mouth, as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. you barely manage to squeak out the noise of surprise caught in your throat, before you’re settled in his lap. alec’s always been strong, but it’s so different, having him use that strength with you. “could get used to it.”

“shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly.

he grasps the collar of his shirt to drag you in. “order received.” and his mouth closes around yours once again; your second kiss of a million.

★ ˚⋆

“stop it, that’s not—” you huff out a hard, frustrated breath, your fingers closing around alec’s wrist. “that’s not what where your hands are supposed to go.”

alec had you sat comfortably in his lap again, after the day prior, you both learned that, despite the circumstances, it was a nice place to be. you were close enough that you could smack him if you had to, and clearly, you did.

“s’not my fault that you’re being a tease,” he grumbles in your ear, his lips so close to the sensitive skin that shivers trail down your spine. “sittin’ all pretty in my lap, not letting me follow orders.”

“oh, bite me,” you shoot back at him, your grip on alec’s wrist tightening as you yank it away from your ass. you can feel the heat of his skin even through the thick fabric of your camo cargos, and it’s completely distracting.

his free hand’s finger comes up to jab you firmly in the sternum. “you won’t let me.”

“i thought this was hard for you, too,” you argue, reaching up to grab his other hand now, the former still tightly in between your fingers. you knew the second you let it go, he’d not-so-subtly slide it right back down to your ass all over again, and where would you be? a rock — you — a hard place.

alec snatches his hand back quickly before you can grab that one, his eyebrows bouncing once in his amusement. “trust me, nelly, it’s very hard.”

you stare at him, unblinking for a long few seconds, before it clicks in your mind — and the feel of what was very hard presses against the core of you. your hand releases his, and you smack him once with the left, twice with the right. “alec!”

alec cackles, head falling back with his laughter. his hand, always so much quicker than you, catches one wrist, and then the other, in his lithe fingers. his other arm snakes around your waist and there’s a blink before you’re suddenly flipped on your back.

on your back, and he’s hovered above you, your pinned wrist firmly above your head and pressed lightly into the mattress. “you’re getting soft on me,” he pants, settled in between your legs, knees nudging them further apart. “you used to beat my ass when we’d spar.”

“you’re playing dirty.”

“am not,” he huffs out like a petulant child, “you’re just not playing. too worried up in that head about all of the logistics here.”

“aren’t you?” you ask him, and it’s genuine; how had 24 hours passed, and suddenly this was something he could just accept? you and him, engaging in things that best friends didn’t do. did they? “aren’t you afraid of…” your face reddens, your turn now to feel like a little kid. “doing it?”

alec’s shoulders lift. “not when it’s with you.”

he says it so genuinely that you know it’s true, the confidence of the words enough to take your breath away.

you’d never thought of it like that. sure, it’s intimidating, breaching this gap of things you’d done and things you hadn’t, but… with him, surely it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as you were thinking.

“plus,” he adds as an afterthought, “we already agreed it wasn’t going to change a thing, didn’t we? s’just work.”

just work. it didn’t feel like just work, but you were always reading too much into things, anyways. that’s why you and alec just worked. he was the laidback to your on edge.

you sigh. he’s getting to you. he’s unnaturally good at reading all of your fears written in your eyes and unpacking each of them, explaining them to you so they weren’t so scary anymore. “just tell me what to do. we can lie to the directors again, if we have to, if you just wanna… i dunno, chill out. could kiss again.”

“alec.”

“suggestion!” he raises his free hand in defense, before he lets it drop down to your thigh. “just a suggestion.”

it was a good suggestion, too. unfortunately for you, fortunately for him. you didn’t want to get too comfortable in these uncharted territories, out of fear it’d all get muddled and then where would you be? too uncomfortable to be friends, too familiar not to be.

“kiss me.” your mouth moves before you’ve even realized the words are out, floating between the two of you like a declaration.

he moves his hand from your wrists and lets it fall in the open expanse of your neck. his fingers are cold this time, even though your blood is hot. “yeah?” it feels achingly familiar to the gentle way he’d said it the day prior. “alright.”

“alright.”

is it supposed to be this awkward? firsts were always awkward. this had to be normal. if you started to think about how maybe it wasn’t normal, and you were embarrassing yourself, and he was embarrassing himself, and everything was about to be ruined, you’d—

alec leans in again, but he doesn’t kiss you on the lips, like you expected. instead, his mouth finds your jaw, teeth grazing the skin lightly, lips pressing reverently on the bone as he sucks the little mouthful of skin between them.

you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, eyelashes as soft as butterfly wings on your cheekbone. “relax,” he breathes, hot breath on hot skin making you squirm beneath him, “i know what i’m doin’.”

“oh, do you?” you smile, a bit dazed as his tongue traces along the line of your jaw until he reaches the space beneath your ear.

“mhm.” he leaves a trail of wet, warm kisses down the side of your neck, then back up your throat. “thought about this all night. know what i’m doin’.”

oh. no wonder he’d been pretty accepting of their circumstances. alec spent all of night prior thinking about you, and how he’d pick you apart.

the thought makes another shiver run down your spine, a warm pool in your lower stomach. “alec—”

“here,” he interrupts, halting your train of thought before it delves again. “put your hand here,” he pants softly into your sensitive skin, his fingers finding yours and guiding them underneath the gray fabric of his shirt. you feel every muscle on his abdomen, feel each flex beneath the cold touch of your fingers. “yeah, that’s it.”

alec straightens up a little so that he can curl his own hands beneath his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. it falls in a heap at his feet, and he’s on you again a second later, his lips marking a wet trail of kisses up your throat. once he reaches your chin, he continues the onslaught, capturing your lips in a firm kiss.

this one is different than the one the night prior. it’s more confident, sure of himself. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and in your surprised gasp, he tucks it between your lips. that part of the kiss is tentative, like enacting the things he’d thought about was more nerve wracking than he’d let on.

you smile. he drags his teeth across your puffed bottom lip. “oh, you like that?” he asks against the soft skin of your mouth, arrogance coating every one of his words. “mm, okay.”

his hands run down your sides, hooking beneath your shirt and bunching it up in his fists. “this okay?” he asks, lifting his head enough to search your eyes.

you nod, taken aback, almost, by the flood of black overtaking his irises. “it’s okay.”

his grin is mesmerizing. had he always been so attractive? had he always looked like something sculpted and molded, just for you, and you’d only just noticed? “okay,” he echoes, and he nudges your extended arm with his elbow, “lift your arms for me.”

neither of you really know what you’re doing, but he has a little bit of an upperhand, what with the fantasies he’d created in his head.

“what all did you think about?” you ask him, tracing your eyes over his face to keep from thinking about how he was undressing you, and you were slowly being beared to him fully.

alec’s eyebrows twitch, his eyes lifting from your bare skin up to yours again. “last night?”

“yeah. i wanna know.”

he shakes his head. “no, nelly,” he laughs under his breath, his heavy-lidded eyes raking over your body again. “m’not lettin’ you know. you’re shakin’ in your boots already.”

“well, then what did you do? just lay in bed, thinkin’ about me?” you shoot back, your mouth dropping into a pout at the denial.

alec’s lips quirk. “something like that.”

“alec—” you’re cut off by his lips pressing to yours again. his fingers run reverently down your chest, his touch shuddery as they graze over your breasts. he groans, and the air in your lungs stutters hard in your chest. every thought is shattering to pieces before you can think them, focused instead on the feel of his hands on you in places that you didn’t think anyone would ever touch.

“i know you’re scared,” he mumbles in your mouth, his hand drifting lower, slowly but steadier than before. “so i want you in control. in case—” his touch comes to a stop at the buttons on your camo cargos. alec pauses like he’s dazed, clearing his throat. “in case you want to stop. at any point.”

he’s such an arrogant dickhead most of the time, one that you’ve come to adore in every possible way, but here? now? he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met.

“here, lift your hips for me,” his nimble fingers have already undone the button, before you’d even blinked, “good girl — see? m’so proud of you, baby.”

baby. he’d never called you baby before. your smile is immediate, even as you feel like you’re being electrocuted with how your skin is buzzing. his knuckles light a fire down you as they brush lightly against your thighs, your calves.

your hand lifts to rest under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you again. how many kisses is this now? you can’t even think, now, not as you drag him in for another kiss. five? six? not enough, is the simple answer.

alec entertains the kiss for a few seconds before he’s pulling back, even taking a step away. your body chills at the loss of his heat, and the self awareness of how you must look to him. mostly naked, sprawled backwards on your bed, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. you open your mouth to say something snarky to him, anything to quell the heavy silence, when he whispers, “you’re so damn beautiful, nelly.”

he undoes the buttons on his pants quickly, shoving them down his muscular thighs and pooling at his ankles. it’s intimidating, staring into the eyes of someone who was your best friend through and through, while neither of you are wearing anything besides undergarments.

this was the guy who’d talked you out of making any rash decisions after you’d had the insult of killer kisser thrown in your face, all because of the girl your dna was cloned from. who squeezed your hands and told you to fuckin’ ignore them. what do they know? who’d been a cell apart from you in your psyops isolation, making sure he wasn’t infected with whatever rotted ben’s mind into darkness, and you weren’t susceptible to falling into hi

alec steps around you to sink onto the mattress beside you, shifting backwards until his back hits the concrete wall, turning so that he’s facing straight forward. his hands pat his thighs, nodding his head in gesture — or maybe to get you to stop ogling him like he was someone new and not your alec.

“lookin’ at me like you don’t know me,” he mumbles, reaching out to snatch your elbow when you don’t move. it’s intimidating. sitting in his lap with so little separating the two of you? of course you were hesitating! “don’t be ridiculous. m’still the guy you pushed down the stairs five years ago.”

“that,” you exhale shakily, as you sit down on his thighs, desperately trying to ignore the heat beneath you, and the heat between your legs, “was an accident.”

“bull.” he moves his hands to the clasps of your bra, undoing each hook individually, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “i saw how you looked at me before you did it.”

you bristle, shoving him back by the shoulder until his back presses against the cool concrete. “like i’m looking at you now?”

slowly, he tugs the straps of your bra down your arms, his grin faltering as his eyes drift downward at the same time. “yeah.” he clears his throat. clears it again. “yeah, like you’re lookin’ at me now.”

your eyes follow his, and you suck in a slow, deep breath. somehow, the fucker had talked his way into taking your bra off without you even noticing. kept you distracted long enough to not fuss over it.

how many kisses out of a million could one man give? you hoped all of them. you hoped more than a million.

the silence is heavy but it’s less awkward now. most of the hard parts were over, and you’d already established there was no reason to be nervous, not with alec. never with alec.

“here,” he says, his voice still coming out rasped even through his attempts otherwise to quell it. “hips up again f’me… yeah, just like that.” alec’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down until they’re caught where you’re straddling him. “left leg up… perfect, baby, right one… perfect, baby. absolutely perfect.”

the praise makes you feel hot. sure, he’d said things like this before, praising each of your actions when you’d done good at training, or came back from a mission successful. this is different. intimate.

"keep 'em up real quick, alright?" he murmurs, shifting beneath you enough to lift his own hips up, hands pulling down his boxers over his thighs. his hand slips, giving way to the nervousness he had buried deep, as it slaps against your bare thigh. "my bad," he chuckles lowly, kicking them off with the foot closest to the bed's edge. his fingers curl around your leg, kneading at the soft flesh. "you've got me all messed up in my head."

"enough to hit me?" you tease, your smile returning again to your lips. "that's cruel, alec. you said you weren't playing dirty."

"m'not," alec insists, his thumb catching your chin and dragging you down into a kiss, and then another.

you laugh on his lips, trying to shake free from his grip. "are too."

he sits up, chasing your mouth when you start to pull away, swallowing your lips in an onslaught of kisses. "i can show you 'playing dirty'." his hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing your ass as they firmly grasp your thighs, flipping the both of you so that your back is against the mattress.

you're strong enough to flip him back. to tackle him onto the mattress, to wrestle like you used to do when you were younger, and things were easier. you don't.

alec settles between your legs, using his hold on your thighs to lift your hips and align your entrance with the cock you have not looked at, nope, it feels too real to—

your eyes fall anyways when his do, watching him line himself up. all of his nervousness is gone again, like he teeters between it, only ever seeming to get nervous when it comes to addressing you. what you are. what this means.

“still okay?” at your nod, he nods too. “okay, sweet girl. let me just—” his hand comes between the both of you, grasping his cock between his fingers, as he pushes the thick head of it inside of you, his head falling back as your wetness coats it. “jeeeesus.”

“what?” you ask breathlessly, shifting to rest on your palms, glancing from his face to where he’s pulling out of you.

alec shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “nothing. nothing at all.” he pushes in again, slowly, deliberately, this time keeping his cock inside of your tight walls. “just thinking about you. always thinking about you.” his free hand goes to your shoulder, pushing you lightly back on the bed. “you just lay back and relax, alright? get out of that head.”

how were you supposed to get out of your head when now, the thing circling around in it is how he so casually declared that he was always—

it’s uncomfortable, as he fills you up. like something is wrong, doesn’t belong. you were definitely wet enough to take him, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of something being off that tingles up your spine.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he groans, his voice as rough as gravel. alec rubs soothing circles into your skin with his thumb, before he lets his hand fall down to one of yours, grasping it in his. “squeeze if you wanna stop.”

even through the discomfort, you didn’t want to stop. not only had the gap already been bridged, but… you liked it. liked him. more than you ever would have realized on your own. the further he pushes into you, still in that achingly slow pace as he lets your pussy adjust to the feel of him inside of it, the easier that adjustment gets.

your fingers play with his, tracing over his knuckles, as your breaths tumble out in soft little pants. everything feels like its at a boiling point, like it’s seconds from spilling over.

“you asked why i wasn’t scared,” he says under his breath suddenly, eyes lifting to meet yours through the deep dark of his eyelashes, once he’s to the hilt deep inside of you, his pelvis pressed to yours in a sharing of blistering hot skin. “do you want to know why?”

he finishes the sentence, and slowly pulls back until his cock rests halfway inside of your throbbing pussy. the movement makes you whimper in your throat, the sound of it rough already. his fingers clamp around yours in reassurance. “i’ve thought about this a lot. that’s why.”

“liar,” you manage to rasp, a breathless moan of laughter punctuating the words, “y’don’t have to make me feel better anymore. i’m not scared.”

“i always,” alec thrusts into you again, quicker this time, already pulling back out, keeping that slow, leisurely pace until he’s absolutely certain you’re alright with the next part of it all, “always want to make you feel better.”

another thrust in, and something shifts this time. you can feel every inch, and suddenly, a tremor of ecstasy replaces the full discomfort. you gasp, and he surges forward to hover over you properly now, like that one little noise was enough reassurance for him.

“always want to take care of you, always want to make sure you’re happy,” alec continues, soft grunts slipping between his ramblings, “hell, i’ve thought about putting a baby in you before. just not… in this setting.”

the words shoot straight downwards, making your already aching pussy throb, clenching tightly around him. “i’m not gonna break, alec,” you say, forehead pressed to his. you dig your nails into the back of his hand, not squeezing it so he doesn’t stop, but urging him further. “stop acting like you’re gonna snap me in half. i’ve pushed you down the stairs before.”

alec laughs, but it works. he pulls out further with each thrust, slams into you harder, burying himself deeply inside of your wet pussy. “yeah, you have.” the sound of skin slapping together starts to echo around the room with the change in his pace, interrupted only by his throaty groans and your soft moans and, god, isn’t it awkward that there are guards outside? that this is what they’re subjected to hear every day, until you’re—

“you wanted— a baby with me,” you say, not as a question, and through the deep haze your mind is slipping into.

“wanted to do this. wanted to fuck a baby into you. see you full of me,” he answers, and it must get him going, the image he paints for the both of you, because he speeds up further, drives deeper, and you can feel the head of his cock pushing against your cervix, making you groan aloud into his skin. “only at night, when it was just me, and i wished you were there, keeping me company. any time else, i could pretend like it was fine.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, and then he’s laughing too. “fucked up, schoolboy-manticore crush, huh?” his head falls further into the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “only this place could get me daydreaming about filling this pussy up with my cum. could get me - wanting to fuck up our whole friendship, just to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

your face flushes at the filthy words, even as it only stirs your arousal further along. you can feel it in the base of your spine, and suddenly, by their own volition, your hips are pressing against his in tandem, meeting each of his thrusts inside of you. he groans, the sound hot and vibrating on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“look at me, will ya, pretty thing?” he asks, nose nudging your chin up to meet his eyes. blackened pupils swallow up the jade green of his eyes. your lips part as the pleasure builds and builds, each of your noises crescendoing in pace with alec’s relentless thrusts. “god, nelly—”

you tip your head up a little more, enough to catch his mouth in a warm kiss. “it’s okay,” you say against the soft pink of his lips; your turn to comfort him, even if that’s the last thing he probably needs.

“yeah,” he mumbles on your mouth, stealing a fervent amount of quick kisses. it might as well be a million right then, with the way you can’t clear your head enough to count.”s’all okay. more than okay. always okay with you.”

“you don’t even know—” you choke out, interrupted by the desperate moans falling from your lips, free hand coming to hold onto his side and keep him deep, deep, deep. “don’t even know what you’re saying,” you manage to laugh.

“no,” alec laughs too, letting go of your hand and moving it and his other one to hold onto your thighs again. “no i don’t. lift this one up for me, yeah?”

you uncurl your bent knee and rest it across the length of his body, and the new angle only makes it that much more intense. “m’not gonna last much longer.”

alec is a nervous laugher. he can’t seem to stop while he thrusts into you. your defense mechanism is panic, his is undiluted joy. you hope it never changes about him. “thank fuck.” he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your ankle. “‘ve been hanging on by a fuckin’ thread.”

“seriously?” you cackle. “alec.”

it’s sweet, really, how even when your entire dynamic flipped on its head, neither of you changed. just like you’d promised. you’re still laughing in the heat of the moment together, still teasing each other in every possible way you could. “told you ‘ve been thinkin’ about this,” he grumbles in his defense, the little pout on his flushed face only pulling you closer and closer into your release’s tight grips, “can’t even blame m—”

“oh, fuck—” you can’t blame him, because you never gave him the time to pitch his argument fully, cutting him off. each breath you draw in is strained, in time with the pounding he’s giving to your clenching pussy. “oh, fuck, alec—”

“hey, language, pretty thing, there’s—” one last thrust, harder than the others, his hips stuttering their movements as he pushes out a shaky exhale into your shoulder. your head falls back into the mattress, dug into the springs as you buck into him, his cock against your cervix as he spills his cum inside of you. the feel of him twitching inside of you, of the warmth seeping from your fluttering walls and warm down your spread legs, reducing you to a muddled mess of pleasure in his arms. unintelligible words on your tongue, pleads or his name or something, you don’t even know, don’t even know what you were trying to say.

alec brushes his fingers across your forehead, pushing the sweaty hairs off of your skin. “was gonna tell you to watch your mouth, but i’m pretty sure you just swore me up and down in three different languages at once.”

your limbs feel boneless, but you do manage to swat at his bare chest, heated skin on heated skin. “shut up.”

“nah.” he scoops you into his arms, not yet having pulled out of you, as he cradles you to his chest. “we’re just gettin’ started, aren’t we?”

the answer is that one man can give a million kisses, and it doesn't take a lifetime — just a director's order and a dream.

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ostaramoon @angelblqde @depressionbarbie2023

@poughkeepsie99 @chi-raz @beausling @artyandink @figthoughts

#dahlia's ☆ journal #divider by adornedwithlight #dark angel #alec mcdowell #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles smut #young jensen ackles #dark angel imagine #dark angel one shot #dark angel fic #alec mcdowell imagine #alec mcdowell one shot #alec mcdowell smut #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you

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mattsundaes · 3 months ago

Text

suna rintarou x f!reader — 18+ only, 1.3k, piss kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, roommate!suna, perv!suna, based on this drabble

Rintarou wants to laugh at the irony of it—what’s currently staring back at him from your laptop screen.

He covers the bottom half of his face, hot breath curling against his palm as he lets out a ragged exhale of disbelief.

The thing is, he’s found plenty of things that have left his cock twitching eagerly with interest since he adopted this fucked up habit of perusing your incriminating porn tabs of choice whenever you forget to close out your silly little incognito browser window.

It’s like a game of roulette, the way his thumb hovers over the touchpad before clicking over to the next tab to see what else could have possibly contributed to draining your vibrator battery last night.

Spitting in her mouth!!!

Anal sex (no lube just SPIT)

I choked him and he came untouched??

If Rintarou was a good roommate and friend, he would have immediately closed the browser window full of filthy porn tabs the first time he went to borrow your laptop and found them staring back at him.

hot wet messy snowballing

Edging her till she’s begging for it (three orgasms)

Or at the very least, he wouldn’t have made a goddamn habit of it.

FIRST TIME SQUIRTER HUGE MESS!!!!!

But it's been fun, all of these little discoveries. The things he’s learned about you through clicks and keystrokes. Because Rin’s seen the guys you’ve brought home before—

—and he’ll bet his own goddamn balls that none of them has ever grabbed your face and made out with you after busting a hot load of cum in your pretty mouth.

Amateurs.

But this—

This.

This is…

Rintarou weakly rubs his fingers over his eyes, like it’ll somehow change the one and only tab that was waiting for him on your screen today.

And in the back of his mind, idly, he wonders if you closed out all the rest and forgot to dispose of this final piece of evidence.

Or if this video alone was enough to get you off that quickly—

(And it’s dangerous, that thought.)

He slowly closes your laptop.

—-

Rintarou’s calm, mature decision to turn over a new leaf and stop fucking his fist like a pervert to the knowledge of what gets you off lasts approximately four and a half minutes.

Four and a half minutes, and he’s in his room with his boxers discarded somewhere between the bed and the door, flushed, leaking cock gripped tightly in his fist.

Two strokes and his balls are already seizing up.

Suna Rintarou’s dick is twitching between his fingers on a hair trigger—

and you—

you—

—you have a piss kink.

His mind is already far beyond the memory of the two faceless participants in the video you’d been watching. Miles and miles past SHE PISSED ON MY DICK (huge cumshot!!).

Rin doesn’t give a single fuck about whatever else he missed out on in the remaining five minutes of the video that he promptly closed out of.

Because all he can think about is you.

You and those flowy sundresses you like to wear as soon as a hint of warm weather hits the forecast.

You and those lacy little white panties that you sometimes forget in the corner on the bathroom floor after showering.

You and your abysmally small bladder.

Rintarou’s mind is caught in a hazy fantasy, one that finds two of you making out in his bed. You’re wearing that yellow dress that he really likes, and the thin material slips up your thighs like butter when he grasps your waist and pulls you on top of him.

Your lips slide against his, soft moans slipping up your throat as you straddle him, his sweatpants doing absolutely nothing to obscure the sheer amount of blood that’s rushed to his cock in the time since the two of you hit the mattress.

And then you giggle, murmuring something shyly against his lips about how wait, wait, you have to pee.

Logically, because you live together and you share a bathroom and Rin knows you, he should offer you a slightly dramatic, put-out sigh, hands resting behind his head as he waits for you to return.

But Rin’s so goddamn hard and your cunt feels so warm grinding against him, even through your underwear. And he honestly doesn’t really care about these sheets or this mattress.

Rintarou doesn’t give a fuck about much of anything besides the thought of how it wouldn’t just be warm, but hot if you—

“Just go.”

You laugh, gentle and amused. Like he’s joking.

Like he didn’t just ask you to piss on him.

“Rin—”

He pushes up the skirt of your dress, exposing those white panties and the obvious wet spot of arousal that’s already soaked through the material that hugs your swollen folds.

You blink down at him, breath hitching in your throat.

“Rin, I really have to—”

He brushes a finger down your slit, featherlight, not missing the full-body shiver that courses through you.

You whine.

Hooking a finger in your panties, he tugs them aside to expose your cunt.

“You have to what?” he asks calmly, pressing his thumb into the puffy, throbbing button of your clit.

You exhale silently, eyes falling shut for a moment like it’s taking everything in your power to keep holding it in.

“I have to pee.”

Rintarou uses his free hand to push down his sweatpants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He stares up at you.

“Prove it.”

Your eyes go a little wide, bottom lip getting caught between the trap of your teeth as your thighs tremble slightly.

“I can’t—”

Rin traces your fluttering entrance with the pad of his middle finger, and your hips stutter as you bite back a moan.

“Why not?”

He slides a finger in, and fuck, fuck, fuck you’re so wet for him.

Your pussy clenches around the digit.

“We’re in your bed. It’ll…it’ll make a mess…”

Rin smiles, because this is just some fucked up fantasy he conjured, and he can buy a hundred goddamn beds for you to piss all over if he wants to.

“And?”

Two fingers.

“Rin I’m—”

A warm trickle slides down his knuckles. He slowly pumps in and out of your pussy.

“Do it.”

More drips out.

He pulls his fingers out of you and rests his palm flat over your bladder.

“Oh—”

Rin pushes down at the same moment that he slides his hard cock lengthwise down your wet slit.

And all at once, you release.

Hot piss floods out of you, spraying all over his cock.

And Rintarou groans, gasping at the sensation, at the feeling of it coating his cock and dripping down his balls.

You’re still pissing when you start grinding your cunt against his dick again, desperately, frantically, whining like you’re about to—

You come hard, shaking and sobbing his name against his chest, and Rin’s already halfway to stroking his piss soaked cock to his own completion when you gasp, “Fuck me, Rin. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

It’s obscene how wet you are, how easily he pumps his cock right into your dripping hole. Rin flips you over onto your back, fucking into your pussy with uneven, shallow strokes because it’s all he can manage before blowing his load.

And because Rin’s a filthy pervert—

“That’s all?” you weakly laugh into his shoulder as he collapses against you afterward, softening cock still nestled in your cunt.

Rin mouths at your collarbone.

“Just say it if you want it.”

You sigh.

“Rin.”

Hand drifting to the base of his cock, he rubs his fingers against the place where it meets your fucked out folds.

He lets out the slightest dribble, just enough to have you gasp with awareness.

“Rin please.”

He shifts, mouth slotting against your lips, tongue lazily sliding into your mouth as a hot flood of piss floods your cunt.

(You’re a filthy, wet, needy mess of cum and piss when he’s finished finger fucking you over the edge of another orgasm.)

–

Rintarou wakes up to the sound of the heavy front door to the apartment closing, your shoes clicking across the laminate flooring down the entryway.

His hands are sticky with dried cum, sweatpants damp and soaked through with more than just his seed as they cling to his thighs.

He's already hard again.

"Fuck."

#suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #dee writes #cw.piss

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just-aake · 4 months ago

Text

Everlasting Devotion - Part XII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Warnings: light angst

Words: 5160

Natasha sits at her desk in her private study, her chin resting on her hand against the armrest of the chair as her eyes remain fixed on the dull, cracked stone on the table before her.

The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the bustling castle outside as the staff work to prepare for the upcoming birthday celebration of their queen.

But Natasha’s attention isn’t on any of the preparations or details–she already told her mother the idea she had for the party so that she and you could enjoy the day despite your current hidden relationship.

At the moment, however, her thoughts swirl as she considers the mysterious stone.

It’s clearly meant to hold some form of power, though not well it would seem, seeing how the surface fractured so easily when it simply fell to the ground.

As if it was barely able to contain the energy within.

Based on what she has seen, her best guess is that this stone must be related to some sort of sorcery.

She taps her fingers lightly against the desk, replaying the events in her mind.

The effects of being around it—whatever they were—didn’t feel natural. Its ability to influence the mind like the way it did to her, to stir vivid memories as if she was back in that moment again, is too dangerous to ignore.

Then, there is another concerning issue.

Her brow furrows as she recalls the brief, vacant expression on your face when she had stopped you from touching it and the way you seemed disoriented before snapping back to yourself, with no memory of what had happened.

Despite your reassurance, the unease lingers in her chest even now as she considers the possible explanations.

What’s worrying is that it reminded her too much of the effects of Dreykov’s Widow methods—the blank stares, the lack of control, the erasure of one’s will.

Natasha’s heart clenches at the memory of when Dreykov had used you against her, forcing you to try to hurt her while under his control.

She shakes her head at the possibility.

No, it’s not the same.

Dreykov is still imprisoned, and without a handler to activate any lingering programming, you shouldn’t be at risk.

And yet…this stone did something.

Her fingers curl into a fist as she resolves not to let history repeat itself.

Whatever this is, she will find a way to protect you from it.

Natasha picks up the stone, holding it closer to the light. Its surface glimmers faintly, but it offers no clues to its origin. She sighs and places it back down, frustration creeping in.

The kingdom has so little knowledge about sorcery. There are no experts she can consult, no archives to scour for answers, no next step for her to turn to.

Natasha pauses, straightening in her chair, as she suddenly remembers that there is one person she can ask for help.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the thud of a stack of papers landing on her desk.

Startled, she looks up to see Steve standing beside her, his expression serious but kind.

“These are the documents we found at Sitwell’s home,” he says, gesturing to the pile. “It’s enough to confirm his and Rumlow’s dealings against the kingdom.”

Natasha sifts through the papers, her eyes scanning the incriminating evidence. But as she nears the bottom of the stack, her frown deepens.

“There’s nothing here about who they were working with,” she mutters, frustration evident in her voice.

Steve nods grimly.

“No names, no locations. Just references to ‘the supplier’ and ‘the broker.’ Whoever they are, they’ve covered their tracks well.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she summarizes the situation aloud.

“So we’re dealing with two unknown enemies—one who’s after the secrets of the Black Widow operations and another after this stone and whatever weapons are tied to it.”

She lets out a deep sigh.

“And in the middle of it all is Y/n.”

Her voice softens slightly at your name, but the worry in her tone is unmistakable.

“This can’t get any worse,” she sighs again, shaking her head.

Steve’s sharp inhale makes her snap her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing in warning.

“What is it?” she asks, apprehension in her voice.

Steve hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers.

“It seems word has spread about Sitwell’s death—and about a certain someone who was also spotted in a tavern near there around the same time. People among the houses and the kingdom are starting to connect the dots, or at least trying to.”

Natasha’s face hardens as she rises from her chair, slamming her hands on the desk.

“They’re trying to blame her for his death?” she exclaims, disbelief and anger coloring her voice. “The report clearly states what happened!”

Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“We omitted Lady Y/n’s presence at the scene in the official report, but we can’t hide the fact that many people did recognize her in that area. And with her current reputation, people are eager to jump to conclusions and conspiracies that she was involved in some way.”

Natasha’s fists clench as she glares at the papers on her desk, her mind racing.

The thought of you being unfairly targeted, of such false whispers about your character spreading like wildfire through the kingdom, makes her blood boil.

“They don’t know her,” Natasha says fiercely, her voice low but trembling with emotion. “They don’t know what she’s been through.”

Steve places a steadying hand on her shoulder, his voice calm but tinged with sadness.

“People always look for someone to blame, someone to fear,” he says. “It’s easier than facing a real monster.”

His words are filled with a sense of understanding and sympathy that Natasha notices.

“Her situation reminds you of someone?” she comments, her tone quieter but no less probing. “How is Bucky anyway?”

Steve hesitates, his eyes betraying a flicker of hesitancy before answering simply.

“He’s doing good.”

He doesn’t offer any more information about the man than that.

Natasha doesn’t mind, but she still presses on, deciding to confront him on the question that has lingered in her mind since she heard about it.

“Bucky told me how you stopped him from killing the Stark princess.”

His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden topic, but she continues before he can speak.

“What exactly happened after that?”

Steve regards her for a moment before he exhales heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly in resignation as he recalls the past events.

“After she was taken, Bucky and I tried to find her,” he admits. “We searched for days, but after what happened, Stark declared him as a fugitive. Anyone found helping him would be seen as an enemy of the kingdom. And with the peace treaty still newly established…”

“Bucky went into hiding,” Natasha finishes.

“I convinced him to,” Steve confirms. “Told him I’d keep looking for her after he left, but the search was called off soon after.”

Natasha furrows her brows at the revelation. She thought only Steve and Bucky were the ones who knew about the Stark princess being alive.

“Called off? By who?”

Steve’s expression tightens in hesitance before he answers.

“Your mother was the one who ended the search.”

Silence falls in the room as Natasha stares at him, her mind reeling as she processes the implications of his words.

Her mother had known the Stark princess was alive. And yet, she had kept it a secret for all these years.

A new unease settled in Natasha’s chest.

If her mother had been willing to hide something this important…

What else did she know?

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Your hands cradle the sides of the cup, seeking comfort in its warmth, but it does little to calm the unease twisting inside you.

Steam curls softly in the dimly lit cabin, dissipating into the still air as you finally glance up, bracing yourself for the reaction.

Across the small table, Bucky leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

His gaze is steady and fixed on you—not angry, but filled with the quiet patience of someone who has seen too much.

“I wasn’t joking when I told you not to touch things you don’t understand yet,” he finally says, his voice calm but firm.

You wince at the reprimand, lowering your gaze to the cup in your hands.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” you murmur. “One moment, I was behind Natasha, and the next…she’s telling me I hit her.”

Your fingers tighten around the cup as the memory flashes in your mind.

The faint glow of the stone had drawn your gaze, an inexplicable pull you couldn’t resist.

And then—nothing.

A lapse in time. A gap in your memory.

But this time, it was different.

Your voice drops to a whisper, raw with fear and dread.

“Bucky, I hurt someone this time. Someone I care about. What if next time it’s worse?”

His features soften in understanding at your tone. He exhales, leaning forward to rest his forearm on the table.

“You haven’t talked to Wanda about this?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“That’s…related to another problem I need to tell you about,” you admit hesitantly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhale sharply before confessing, “The person I hired to fix the gates is actually Tony Stark. He’s in the kingdom.”

Bucky doesn’t react right away. His face remains unreadable as he considers your words carefully.

“Huh,” he mutters at last. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always had a knack for showing up when you least expect it.”

His calmness catches you off guard.

“You’re not worried?” you ask cautiously.

Bucky offers a wry smile.

“I’ve been running long enough to know how to stay ahead,” he sighs, glancing around the cabin. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I can handle it.”

He studies you curiously.

“How did you figure out who he was?”

You scoff, shaking your head at the memory.

“He practically bragged about his identity when I confronted him,” you say, exasperation lacing your voice. “I’ve never met someone who manages to compliment himself in almost every other breath.”

Bucky smirks, nostalgia flickering in his expression.

“Sounds like him. Guess some things never change.”

His demeanor shifts, his amusement fading as he leans back in his chair.

“So…does he know who you really are?”

You hesitate, looking back down at your cup.

“No,” you admit before sighing. “And I don’t think I should tell him.”

With Tony in the kingdom for peace treaty discussions, revealing the truth would only complicate things—especially for Natasha. You can’t risk him finding out that his sister had been taken by one of her own people for all these years.

Bucky observes you for a moment before suggesting lightly, “What about the twins then?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What? No. Those two, especially, cannot know.”

His expression softens, understanding your apprehension.

“You said the three of you grew up together like siblings. I doubt finding out who you really are would change that.”

Your throat tightens in fear at the thought.

“Stark soldiers killed their parents, Bucky,” you remind him, your voice cracking slightly. “How can I ask them to see past that?”

Bucky sighs quietly with sympathy before answering.

“Because they know you. Not the kingdom. Not the name—you.” He pauses, his gaze steady and sure. “If anyone understands that, it’s them.”

Silence settles between you. Your fingers trace the rim of your cup as you wrestle with the thought.

“I just…I don’t think I can do it.”

Bucky sighs, but he doesn’t push further.

“At least consider having Wanda check on you,” he suggests. “If you’re still worried about what’s happening with your memories.”

You take a slow breath before nodding, reluctant but willing.

Bucky studies you for a moment before asking, “Are you still going to keep looking into that stone?”

A small, determined smile tugs at your lips.

“I need to figure out what’s happening. You said it yourself—I have to understand how it works. If I can do that, I can learn to control it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky deadpans, shaking his head. “I understand you want to regain some sort of control of the situation, but are you sure this is the best way to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly. “But I know I’ll figure it out.”

He watches you for a long moment before nodding.

“All right. Just…be careful.”

You offer him a grateful smile before your expression turns more serious.

“What about you? Are you going to leave now that Tony’s here?”

Bucky is silent for a moment as he considers his response, looking around at his home in contemplation before facing you again.

“Have you told anyone else about what’s happening with you?”

You look away, hesitating. Talking with Bucky about this has always been easier than others since you know he understands what it was like not being in control.

With a soft sigh, you shake your head in response.

His expression softens, something gentle flickering in his eyes.

“Then I’m staying.”

Your eyes widen slightly, looking up at him.

“Bucky—”

“I’ll be careful,” he assures you before you can protest. “You gave me a heads-up, and I appreciate it. The least I can do is be here for you.”

His words hit you harder than expected. After everything—the whispers, the distrust, the isolation—it’s not something you’re used to hearing recently.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Bucky replies with a small smirk. “But someone has to remind you that you’re not alone. We have to look out for each other—to protect the people we care about.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, the weight on your shoulders lifting just a little.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha slows her horse to a stop at the entrance of your manor. Swinging down smoothly, she lands lightly on her feet, her eyes assessing the newly installed gate.

The sturdy iron bars gleam under the sunlight, their intricate patterns hinting at the work of a master craftsman. A stark improvement from the wreckage that once stood in its place.

Whoever you had hired had done an impressive job.

A voice from behind pulls her from her thoughts.

“Queen Natasha.”

She turns to find Wanda approaching, a woven basket hanging on her arm. Beside her stands a man Natasha doesn’t recognize—tall, poised, his presence exuding quiet intelligence. He carries himself with effortless grace, his thoughtful gaze studying Natasha as much as she studies him.

Natasha offers a small nod in greeting.

“Hello, Wanda.” Her gaze shifts to the stranger. “And I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

Before Wanda can respond, the man steps forward with a polite and respectful tilt of his head.

“Vision,” he introduces himself smoothly. “A…friend of Wanda’s.”

Natasha eyes him carefully, her instincts sharpening. There’s something calculated about him, as if he chooses his words with great care. But she doesn’t comment on it.

“What brings you here?” Wanda asks, her tone polite but cool.

Natasha takes out a sealed envelope from her side, the royal hourglass crest embossed in the wax.

“I came to deliver an invitation for Y/n,” she says. “For my birthday celebration.”

Wanda glances at the envelope and then meets Natasha’s gaze.

“She’s not home at the moment,” she says, pausing briefly before adding. “She’s visiting a friend.”

Natasha nods in understanding, already suspecting where you might be.

“Then I’ll leave this with you.” She extends the envelope. “This invitation is also extended to you and Pietro if you wish to attend.”

Wanda takes it without comment, tucking it away. Her gaze lingers on Natasha, assessing.

“If that’s all, Your Majesty, then perhaps you should return home.”

Natasha’s lips twitch in amusement at Wanda’s bluntness, but she doesn’t move.

“Actually,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “I was hoping to ask for your help.”

Wanda’s brows knit in surprise.

“My help? With what?”

Natasha reaches into her satchel once more, this time retrieving a familiar object—the cracked stone. She holds it between them, its fractured surface dull, absent of the eerie glow it once emitted.

Wanda’s entire demeanor shifts. Her fingers tighten around the handle of her basket, her expression darkening.

Natasha studies her reaction before continuing.

“I need your help proving a theory of mine.”

Wanda’s gaze locks onto the stone, recognition flaring in her eyes.

“And you want me to do what, exactly?”

“Channel some of your magic into it,” Natasha explains, keeping her voice measured. “I believe this stone is meant to hold a sorcerer’s power, but I don’t know the extent of its capabilities.”

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looks at the fractured gem with barely concealed wariness.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” she finally says, a note of hesitation in her voice. “We have no idea what could happen.”

Before Natasha can push further, Vision steps forward, his voice even and composed.

“I must agree,” he says, eyes flicking over the fractured surface. “The stone, in its current state, would likely fail to contain her magic. The cracks compromise its integrity.”

Natasha shifts her attention to him, her sharp gaze narrowing slightly.

“You seem well-versed in this subject.”

Vision offers a polite smile.

“My family has studied sorcery and its potential for generations.”

From his pocket, he produces a small, glowing yellow stone—no larger than a pendant. The energy within it hums faintly, vibrating with an unseen force.

“This was given to me by my brother before he disappeared,” Vision says, gazing at it with a flicker of nostalgia. “It holds only a remnant of power, but when I concentrate, I can still feel his presence.”

Natasha studies the tiny stone—a miniature echo of the one in her hand. Vision’s words confirm her suspicion: these stones were meant to contain a sorcerer’s magic.

But that revelation brings an unsettling realization.

“Does that mean the power in these stones could be wielded by anyone?” she asks, voicing her thoughts aloud. “Even those without magic?”

Vision nods thoughtfully.

“Theoretically, yes—if the vessel is strong enough to contain it. However, its effects would also depend on the source.” He gestures subtly toward Wanda. “For instance, Wanda possesses extraordinary strength and versatility in her powers.”

Natasha doesn’t miss the admiration in Vision’s voice or the way Wanda’s expression softens as she glances at Vision—the quiet smile she offers him.

But she pushes past the moment, turning to Wanda with renewed urgency.

“Can we speak alone for a moment?”

Vision catches the cue, offering a courteous nod before excusing himself. He strolls past the gates, hands clasped behind his back, leaving the two of them in private.

Once he’s out of earshot, Natasha’s expression shifts, her voice lowering.

“How is she?” she asks, cutting past the pleasantries. “Really?”

Wanda crosses her arms, her posture becoming defensive.

“She’s fine,” she answers curtly. “Aside from the ridiculous rumors that she had something to do with Lord Sitwell’s death.”

Natasha exhales slowly. She had anticipated this, but hearing it aloud cements the weight of it.

“I didn’t expect this to lead back to her.”

Wanda’s eyes darken, her stance firm.

“You should have.” There’s a bite to her words. “With how people already treat her, it doesn’t take much for them to paint her as a villain.”

The unspoken accusation isn’t lost on Natasha.

Still, she meets Wanda’s gaze evenly.

“That’s why I came—to make sure she’s okay.” Her voice is softer now, more genuine. “Have you noticed anything…strange about her lately? Any unusual behaviors?”

A flicker of protectiveness and outrage flashes across Wanda’s face.

“What are you implying?” she demands. “That she’s not herself?”

Natasha hesitates. She doesn’t want to question your state of mind either. But after what she saw, she can’t ignore it.

“Something happened to Y/n in town,” she admits. “I don’t like the thought of her mind being affected again either. But after everything, isn’t it worth checking?”

For a moment, it seems like Wanda is about to argue further, but as she considers Natasha’s question and the concern in her tone, her defensive posture relax slightly, though her resolve remains firm.

“She’s fine,” Wanda repeats. “I made sure Dreykov’s influence in her mind can’t be used again, and I’ve checked multiple times before.”

Natasha watches her closely for a long moment before slowly nodding.

“Alright, if you’ve already checked it out,” she says, pausing to gauge the truth in Wanda’s expression. “I’ll trust you. We all care about Y/n’s safety, after all.”

Wanda’s gaze sharpens, the weight of something unspoken pressing between them.

“Do you?” she asks quietly. “Because it really doesn’t feel that way—not with how you’ve been handling things.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue. She understands where Wanda’s anger is coming from.

Instead, she simply says, “We’re on the same side here, Wanda.”

Wanda’s eyes search hers, looking for something—anything—to convince her of that. But in the end, she only shakes her head, her expression unreadable.

“I wish I could believe that.”

With that, she turns and walks into the manor, leaving Natasha standing alone, the weight of unease settling deeper in her chest.

And for the first time in a long while, she wonders if you feel the same way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After leaving Bucky’s cabin, you return to the manor, your mind a whirlwind of unease and resolve.

The stone in your possession is still a mystery, and if there was anyone who could help you decipher it, it was the man currently hammering away in the makeshift tent out front.

As you approach, the sharp clang of metal against metal echoes into the cool evening air.

The tent, hastily set up near the manor’s entrance, is cluttered with half-finished contraptions, schematics, and tools strewn across multiple surfaces. A warm glow flickers from the hanging lanterns, casting long shadows over the disarray.

Pushing aside the front flap, you step in.

Tony is hunched over a worktable, humming an offbeat tune as he shapes a small piece of metal. Sparks dance off the edges as he grinds it against a whetstone, the acrid scent of burning steel filling the air.

He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, too absorbed in his work.

You make your way to the table, pausing just in front of him. When he still doesn’t look up, you pull the cracked stone from your pocket and set it down with a deliberate thud.

The impact silences the rhythmic clang of his tools.

Tony finally stops, his hands stilling as his gaze flicks to the stone, then to you. A single brow lifts in curiosity.

“I need to understand how this works,” you state, gesturing at the fractured stone. “Your friend mentioned how you once tried to create something like it but failed.”

Tony scoffs, setting his tools aside as he straightens to his full height. His arms cross over his chest, an air of casual arrogance settling around him.

“First of all, I didn’t fail,” he corrects, wagging a finger at you. “I chose to stop. There’s a difference.”

You furrow your brows slightly at the revelation.

“Why did you stop?”

“Conflict of interest,” he replies vaguely, leaving little room for elaboration as he waves off the question. Then he tilts his head, scrutinizing you. “And second, even if I were to humor this little project of yours, what makes you think I’d need your help?”

You shift, fingers tightening around the object hidden behind your back.

“Because you couldn’t figure it out yourself,” you reply smoothly.

Tony chuckles, the sound dripping with amusement.

“And you think you can?”

Your grip tightens around the charred book’s worn cover.

“Yes,” you say evenly, “with your help. And with this.”

With deliberate slowness, you bring the book into view.

The second Tony’s eyes land on it, his entire demeanor shifts. His casual smirk falters, and his body tenses, fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to snatch it from your hands.

He takes a single step forward, pointing at the book.

“How do you have that?”

You take a step back, holding it just out of reach.

“It was given to me.”

His expression darkens.

“Well, that doesn’t belong to you. So hand it over.”

You raise a brow, unaffected by his sudden change in tone.

“Help me,” you counter, “and I’ll give this to you.”

His jaw tightens, his gaze flicking between the book and your face. The seconds stretch between you, thick with tension.

Then, with a long exhale, Tony crosses his arms and tilts his head.

“Alright,” he says simply. “You’ve got my attention.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Pietro, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You step into your room, the familiar space offering little comfort against the storm of emotions trailing in behind you.

Wanda looks up from where she stands beside your bed, momentarily pausing as she arranges another dress among the already spread-out collection. Her eyes flick to you, curiosity flickering in their depths.

Pietro follows in after you, hands waving in agitation, his movements restless.

“I just don’t get why you want them to stick around,” he huffs. “The gate’s already been fixed.”

You sigh, turning to face him, hands on your hips. Ever since you had revealed the news of Tony and Vision’s extended stay, Pietro had been nothing but vocal in his disapproval.

“I know you and Tony don’t get along, but—”

“It’s not just that,” Pietro interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. His fingers fumble inside his pocket before pulling something out. “Look, I searched through their things—”

“Pietro!” you exclaim, aghast. “You went through their belongings?”

He barely acknowledges your reprimand, stepping closer to show you a small scrap of fabric. You frown as you take it from him, running your fingers over the faded embroidery.

The lines of an all-too-familiar sigil stand out against the fabric—Stark’s crest.

“They’re from the Stark kingdom,” Pietro says, voice laced with disapproval. “We can’t trust them.”

Your fingers tighten around the cloth as your gaze flickers away.

“They’re not bad people,” you say softly. “Not everyone from Stark is bad.”

He scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

“Sure. But do we have to involve them in our lives?”

You let out a tired sigh, realizing that Pietro’s resentment toward the kingdom was something you had anticipated but clearly underestimated.

“Bucky saved your life,” you remind him gently, hoping to reason with him. “Or did you forget he’s from Stark too?”

His expression twists at the mention of Bucky, as if the reminder conflicts within him. Crossing his arms, he shakes his head stubbornly.

“That’s different.”

“Come on, Pietro,” you try again, softening your tone. “Can’t you at least try to—” You hesitate, searching for the right words.

But Pietro is already shaking his head.

“Please, Y/n, don’t let them stay.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading.

He looks at you with the same expression he wore as a child—the little boy who always counted on you to take his side.

You take a steady breath, grounding yourself before answering.

“I’m sorry, Pietro,” you say, firm yet gentle. “But it’s already done.”

His lips press into a tight line.

For a second, it looks like he might argue further, but instead, he clenches his fists and exhales sharply through his nose. Without another word, he dashes off, the air around him rippling from the sheer force of his departure.

The lingering tension settles heavily in the space he leaves behind.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exasperated.

“Wait—Pietro!”

The only response is the distant sound of his retreating footsteps.

You let out another sigh before turning to Wanda, who has remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

“Wanda,” you start. “Can you talk to him? You’ve been spending time with Vision—maybe you can convince him that they’re not all bad.”

When she doesn’t immediately respond, you glance at her more closely. She’s staring down at her hands, lost in thought. Her fingers twitch slightly, as if turning over something unseen.

“Wanda?” you call again.

She blinks, her gaze snapping up to meet yours.

“Can I look inside your mind?” she asks suddenly.

You freeze. Of all the things you expected her to say, that was not one of them.

A beat of silence passes between you.

Wanda, sensing your hesitation, quickly waves a hand.

“I just want to make sure the block I put in place is still strong after all this time,” she clarifies, her voice even but her fingers fidgeting slightly.

You shift, glancing away.

For a moment, doubt grips you—not because you don’t trust Wanda, but because what if she sees too much?

Wanda watches you closely, and when you don’t respond, her shoulders sag slightly.

“Never mind,” she says, softer now. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

You snap your gaze back to her, guilt tightening in your chest.

“No, it’s fine,” you say quickly.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise.

You take a steadying breath, shoving aside your apprehension. You know Wanda—know that she would never pry deeper than necessary. And more than anything, you don’t want her to think that her abilities should be feared.

You reach forward and take her hand, gripping it firmly.

“I trust you, Wanda.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face, but she nods, inhaling deeply before closing her eyes.

A soft red glow encircles her fingers before she brings them up to your temple.

The moment her power touches you, it’s as if a presence brushes against your mind—gentle, cautious. It doesn’t force its way in, merely drifts through the edges of your consciousness, skimming the surface like a ripple across water.

For a moment, an uneasy thought lingers—what if she sees the truth?

But Wanda does not pry deeper. She simply searches for what she needs.

After a moment, the red glow fades, and she withdraws her hand.

You look at her, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Well?”

A smile breaks across her face.

“Everything’s good,” she assures you.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the unease within you easing just a little.

“That’s good to hear.”

Your gaze shifts to the array of dresses and fabrics spread across the bed. Some fabrics are cut into smaller elaborate designs, while others are carefully pinned together, awaiting final touches.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

Wanda’s grin widens with excitement. She reaches for an envelope on your desk, holding it out to you. The opened seal bears Natasha’s family crest.

“To prepare for the Queen’s birthday celebration,” she reveals.

Then, in a playful gesture, she picks up a piece of fabric and drapes it over the upper half of her face.

“It’s going to be a masquerade.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

a/n: Thank you for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox, @hellenheaven, @hotcocoandonuts, @alwaysgoodnight, @cactuslover2600

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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iatrophilosophos · 5 months ago

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"Harm reduction for diy hrt" WHAT HARM ??? SHOW ME THE HARM !!!

Years of paying attention and talking w ppl, not ONE "so&so happened to my buddy's metamour's friend" report of a major incident let alone a credible even 2nd or 3rd hand case study.

Actualized negative events associated with DIY hrt i DO have credible reports of: 1) swollen/itchy/painful injection sites in people reusing needles, not sterilizing vial tops, using poor injection technique 2) mild to moderate allergic reactions to carrier oils 3) using an ineffective dose with minor to moderate mood disturbances, flares of some autoimmune conditions, fatigue/weakness/brain fog/pain in people already susceptible to chronic pain, that subside with dosing/cycle adjustments

NONE OF THESE ISSUES are UNIQUE to the DIY element. In the cases of 2 and 3, there are significant pros to DIY bc it is easier/cheaper to access a preparation without an allergen when you are your own compounding pharmacy, and dosage changes can be made without permission/folks aren't stuck on shitty doses that could possibly create more significant health problems down the line for extended periods while waiting for prescriber approval to change.

Injection protocol education for IV NEEDLE DRUG USERS is harm reduction because there is HARM associated with the socio-medical conditions created by the war on drugs to ACTIVELY BLOCK access to safer use knowledge and tools. There is REAL HARM in the REAL WORLD that is REDUCED by addressing politically-introduced risk vectors in a specific class of autonomous medicine use.

Harm reduction is a specific term for a specific socio-medical concept regarding activities that, while involving inherent risk (as most aspects of Being Alive do!), occupy a position of ARTIFICIALLY INFLATED RISK due to criminalization, policing, and specific means of knolwege gatekeeping and/or disruption of transmission. As a term it has a specific history and purpose, to assert that the same risk mitigation and best-possible/acceptable/desirable care options should be available to all people regardless of their participation in stigmatized or illicit activities.

Discussion of risk and protocols associated with any form of medicine is vital to building robust, effective, desirable, and sustainable common-knowledge medical strategies; but to be effective at that these discussions have to be as accurate to the data points they describe as possible. Referring to risk mitigation strategies that do not address ACTUALIZED CONDITIONS RESULTING IN HARM as "Harm reduction" is inaccurate and occludes reality. One reason this is bad, among many, is that the fact that widespread negative events unique to the DIY element of DIY HRT are not CURRENTLY actually happening could potentially be an important datapoint in problem solving if it DOES happen in the future. If in three weeks some kid or collective somewhere starts DIYing and getting really sick, it is important for those people to know that THAT IS WEIRD!!!!!! and deserves a lot of detailed exploration of what went wrong, & not just assume that they just got unlucky/didn't Reduce Harm good enough.

Just say "these are what i think are best practices based on xyz evidence," and leave it at that. If for some reason you're uncomfortable saying THAT, it's probably a sign you don't know enough about what you're talking about and need to interrogate your epistemology more before opening your mouth to tell other people what to do.

That is all.

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elbiotipo · 1 year ago

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Common historical misconceptions:

Suits and ties were not used by everyone: they were mostly used by people of high status on formal occassions.

Daft Punk represent some of the earliest androids registered outside fiction, they were not two humans in suits (this is still disputed)

Similarily, Miku Hatsune was an "anime" character at first, the first sentient personalities of Miku date from 2026.

The "Old City" of Niork in Usamerica was actually built in the 2230s around the JFK Spaceport, the ruins of old Niork are in the Manhattan Swamplands.

Similarily, the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building are later reconstructions. The original Statue of Liberty did not have the shield with the emblem of the Joint Chiefs.

The Joint Chiefs did not refer to an alliance of "chiefs" in charge of Usamerican "states", but rather to the pre-socialist military dictatorship.

Bioengineering allowing for animal features is only registered from the late 21th century onwards. Findings previous to that are understood to be caricatures.

"Anime" art was made for general entertaiment, thus the stylization: it did not reflect a lack of knowledge of anatomy. The 'animation renaissance' of the 22th century is heavily disputed.

Open surgery was not 'primitive' or 'painful': it was a complex procedure with anaesthesia and other processes to avoid suffering of the patient. Widespread internal biotechnology arrived only on the 22th century.

The First Space Race did not end because of 'incuriosity' or 'astrophobia'. While political factors were important, technological developements such as Single-Stage-to-Orbit spaceships came only by the late 21th century.

While it is true that live meat was commonly consumed in the industrial era, it was not hunted or butchered at home by individuals such as Gauchos, but rather produced by ranching. Widespread artificial meat arrived only in the 22th century.

The current Socialist Interstellar is not a direct continuation of the original Socialist International, there were several interludes on which did not exist as such, particularily the Neoliberal Interlude of 1991 to 2089. The oldest continously socialist country is Cuba, now part of the URSAL.

There is no evidence that Batman existed. His introduction to the superhero genre as a 'powerless' hero was fictional, and not based on a real person, despite several claims.

However, Espaiderman is identified to be a real person: Pedro Parques, who lived in Baries, Argentina during the late 21th century, but he did exist as a Usamerican character previously.

#the anime thing is supposed to be a reference to byzantine icons: they look simplistic to us because they were heavily stylized #to byzantines they would have looked masterful because they were done in the right style. there are many other such cases.#cosas mias #and yes. the current capitalist period is just a brief interlude #and yes. some of these are wrong on purpose.

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pureshadough · 8 days ago

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blueberry milk cookie being the most popular fanon name for the fount of knowledge makes me want to chew through furniture

This God Damn Name has managed to become such widespread consensus that it warped into active misinformation via one (1) popular youtuber's most recent analysis video (a fate worse than death for someone with Lore Autism) and while this was rectified in a correction comment the fact it managed to be falsely credited as a canonical title At All got me thinking in general about just how. like. Completely illogical it is relative to the already established ingredient naming conventions in cookie run on the whole.

1: Blueberry Milk Is Not A Fucking Thing. you can google and find recipes for such a concept, Sure, but there's a difference between a mom blogger's AI generated drink article versus milk flavors that have an established presence and are Popular to consume like that of chocolate/strawberry/banana etc. devsisters have a track record of getting oddly specific/esoteric in their names for cookies sure, but they tend to fit a specific theme or motif that lends itself to puns (see: dino-sour) or adjectives describing what is still a pretty Coherent singular ingredient, and outside of that i'm pretty sure there's basically Never been a cookie with multiple Entirely Separate Elements in their name like how Blueberries & Milk would be

2: the beasts and ancients already have an Established naming convention that blueberry milk throws out the window? all of them (barring one notable outlier, hi hollyberry) follow the formula of Quality-Describing Adjective FOLLOWED BY their predominant ingredient, of which were all specifically picked to follow the principle idea of Core Elements In Baking & Cooking. they CAN be comprised of other things simultaneous to this YES, pure vanilla is in fact made also with cream and "spice" as a core ingredient is just about the vaguest possible thing in the world - but evidently that changes little in the actual formula for their namesake, and i can't imagine shadow milk being any different prior to his current broadly malignant title even If he does in fact have blueberries somewhere in his dough.

so this all said there are now TWO PATHS before you: picking any adjective you prefer relevant to knowledge/benevolence/purity or that is otherwise Antithetical To Shadow and rolling with that, or if you're Funny and Based, you can go the route of NONE of the beasts ever having normal cookie names outside of their status-relevant titling - wherein The Fount of Knowledge was only ever The Fount of Knowledge. i like this approach because of how it pushes their roles as Virtue Holders and Destined Leaders to this logical extreme of earthbread's population only ever seeing them as their jobs, as some Untouchable "Other". this guy was never blueberry milk cookie, or glimmering milk cookie, or brilliant milk cookie, or whatever other myriad of names you've seen in a fanfic elsewhere because to Them, the People, the Witches, the fount of knowledge was never a cookie at all. 😙✌️ peace and love!

#this is all lighthearted so like #do whatever makes you happy so long as that isn't suggesting he *de-fermented* by way of calling him blueberry fucking yogurt cookie #otherwise i will be attacking you with a barrel /j #crk #cookie run kingdom #ramble

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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Do you think it's possible that Trey actually hate Riddle and baking?! I mean I never thought about that nor I thought about it until nowdays but I have read Trey's labwear vignette and some spoilers from the current chapters of book seven and I'm confused (I play through the English account only but I don't mind spoilers)

To recap for those who haven't read Trey's Labwear vignettes, it's a story that centers around him growing strawberries which he will use in a strawberry tart for Heartlabyul's next tea party. I will only be discussing these vignettes in this post, as the book 7 Heartslabyul update that's out so far currently does not cover Trey's dream and I believe what's already present in the vignettes is sufficient to answer Anon's question.

So firstly, here is how Rook responds when Trey tells him about his plans for the strawberries: "Heh, and here I thought you were just a strawberry enthusiast. But the real reason was Riddle—the Roi des Roses. [...] Such profound loyalty! That's what makes you the Chevalier!" Trey replies with, "Profound? That's laying it on a little thick. Riddle and I go way back, so I happen to know what he likes. That's all there is to it."

The vignettes continue and lead into Trey giving his strawberries away to Jade, who needs them to replace the fruit meant for an important customer's birthday cake. (Floyd ate the fruit, lol) In exchange for doing Jade this favor, Trey asks that he acquire a strawberry tart from a very fancy and exclusive bakery so he can present said tart at the Heartslabyul tea party. This surprises Rook, who says, "I was wondering if a strawberry tart made with your love might make Riddle happier, that's all." Trey just replies with, "Ha ha. As if."

Both Rook and Jade express that they believed Trey was "the type who'd rather feed Riddle homemade treats baked with love", only for Trey to shatter their expectations of him. "Just what kind of guy do you think I am, anyway?" Trey asks. "I mean [...] I can see how others would get that impression of me... But honestly, love has nothing to do with it. My main priority is keeping my housewarden/dorm leader from going berserk with his tyrant mode. That way, all's right with the world, as they say." Rook then states that though he thought of Trey as Riddle's loyal knight, perhaps his perception of him was off--because, in reality, Trey is very cunning. Trey just laughs it off and claims to be "normal".

Now, based on just that summary alone, it's easy for someone to judge Trey's comments as uncaring towards Riddle. He doesn't claim to have a profound loyalty to Riddle, dismisses his knowledge of Riddle's tastes, is willing to take shortcuts to obtain something for him instead of handmaking it, and then outright admits he doesn't bake with love in mind. However, this does not mean Trey hates or even dislikes Riddle or the act of baking itself.

Trey states "I DO enjoy cooking [...]" (which also includes baking) in these same vignettes, so the latter claim that he hates baking is already debunked. If you want to believe he’s lying, that’s up to your discretion. However, I believe he does have a real interest in it, as he bakes even in situations where he is not expected to serve others, like in Science Club. Furthermore, Trey considers an internship in the food industry and potentially getting a patisserie license. He also consistently asks for cooking-related items as gifts for his birthday (aprons, flour sifters, cookbooks, etc.) and wishes for a food processor in Wish Upon a Star. If he despised cooking or baking, why would this be a consistent part of his career plans and free time?

To debunk the idea that Trey actually "hates" Riddle, we need to read between the lines and seek out supporting evidence.

You also need to keep in mind that Rook and Trey are the two main conversationalists in these vignettes, and these two have VERY different perspectives and ways of communicating. Rook is over-the-top and emotional, whereas Trey is grounded and realistic. If Rook is going to claim Trey is a total Riddle loyalist, it's quite an extreme comment and of course it's gotta be Trey to remind him to tamp down his expectations. Their personalities will inform how they act and interact with one another.

We should also remember that Trey—yes, Mr. “I am Normal” Clover—is a student selected by the Mirror of Darkness. That means that he, like everyone else at this NRC, has problems with being honest about his emotions and being open “friends” with others. However, it’s also true that Trey is often mistaken for a nice guy and a caring older brother figure because of how often he plays mediator or helps others out. Trey is aware of this perception that others have of him as well (“[…] I can see how others would get that impression of me…”).

In any case, the focus here isn't Trey rejecting a love for Riddle, he is rejecting the notion that he bakes "with love". As in, he doesn't subscribe to being all sentimental about his cooking. He just... makes food, and is honestly probably sick of it given how often he has to take charge of the baking for the tea parties they have (see: his own Dorm Uniform vignettes). Trey has to cook for his younger siblings when he's at home too, maybe even help his parents with the bakery. On top of that, he has to frequently manage other people and make sure they don't cause a mess (and if they do, he has to help clean it up). It's so routine yet also so demanding to him, so the guy probably wants a break. And honestly? Is there genuinely something wrong with wanting to take a shortcut once in a while (especially when you already work your ass off) and buy a nice high-quality snack instead of making it yourself? It was the easier way for Trey to save himself the hassle (not to mention the time, effort, and ingredients) by buying a cake. It's not even like he's cheaping out or providing an inferior product in the place of the strawberry tart Trey would have baked. In the end, he would still achieve the same result with a lot less pain on his part. Riddle would still be given a tasty treat, he would still be satisfied. Trey says as much himself: ""[Riddle]'ll be delighted when he finds out this's from a famous patisserie. I don't have to make a whole tart from scratch for him to be happy."

As vice dorm leader, Trey has to deal with a lot of things. Chief among these things and exclusive to him is managing Riddle's temper, which Trey clearly states ("My main priority is keeping my housewarden/dorm leader from going berserk with his tyrant mode."); this conflict is also present several times across the rest of the main story, events, and other vignettes, like Trey's Ceremonial Robes ("Well, we managed to avoid having Riddle explode in a blaze of anger, so I'd call today a success."). Can it be stressful to deal with someone who's very anger-prone? Yes. Does it wear on Trey to always have this job fall to him? Also yes. But does he despise Riddle for this? No. If anything, Trey is INCREDIBLEY patient with him, and he grants him this grace because they are friends and he understands Riddle's background, where that rage and the need for control is learned from. (You may also want to consider that Trey himself may harbor guilt about the role he played in Riddle's trauma; that's a topic I have written about at length in this analysis.) Rook remarks on this too: "From where I'm standing, your bond appears to go far deeper than that."

I think it's made pretty clear in book 1 that Trey cares a lot about Riddle, even if he may also get worn out with him at times or not always want to put 100% of his efforts in. Recall that it was Trey that intervened when Riddle summoned rose bushes to attack Ace--because he didn't want to see his friend turn into a murderer. Recall that it was Trey who called out to Riddle after his OB--because he doesn't want to lose him. This might be hard to visualize from the in-game assets alone, so I implore you to read the official manga adaptation. Trey's raw emotions really come through in his expressions. The concern, the sorrow, the fear he feels witnessing one of his childhood friends spiral into his worst tendencies, reliving his trauma... and then there’s Trey’s stone-cold determination to pull Riddle out of the dark… It's all there:

***Lots of images from the manga below the cut!!***

And then???? The relief and joy Trey wears when he realizes Riddle is okay… that he can finally apologize for not being there for him… that Riddle is improving as a person… that he can still laugh with him, advise him… This is a genuine friendship here.

Look at this splash page as well! Trey is glancing in an almost forlorn way at Riddle. The text, as well as the framing, implies a longing to be closer—to reconnect after so long apart and emotionally distant.

The had so much fun together as children too!! And look at how heartbroken Trey looks after having lost the ability to hang out with Riddle 😭

BUT THIS PART REALLY GETS ME THE MOST…

In Twisted Wonderland, hands are a very important symbol. It's what links--what connects--two people. The hand beckoning you in the mirror begins our journey, NRC's prideful students refuse to hold hands or to band together, etc. And what do we see recurring in Trey and Riddle's friendship? That's right, it's hands.

Trey offers his hand to Riddle when they first meet as children. You can tell from the panels just how hesitant Riddle is to accept him. Then, in modern day, when OB Riddle has been defeated, he reaches out toward a keyhole which is shining with a light. As the blot drips away from his flesh, Riddle finally comes back to reality... and whose hand is he holding? Whose hand is he squeezing so tightly? Yeah, it's Trey's--and I think that this, in of itself, speaks to the strength of their bond.

The light novel makes Trey’s care for Riddle even more obvious. There is an entire chapter dedicated to Riddle’s post-OB flashback, and towards the end of it, Riddle remarks that he hears a voice calling out to him gently. He wonders if it is his mother, but the next chapter then opens and it’s made clear that it was Trey all along.

I genuinely don't think that Trey, would go to so many of the lengths that he does if he secretly hated Riddle. He supports him, advises him, and eventually stands up to him (when he was so hesitant to do so before).

I definitely don't think we're supposed to interpret Trey's Labwear vignettes as "oh, he hates Riddle". It's meant to be more of a piece on Trey's cunning and how he's not as 'nice" as many other characters see him as. He's willing to take conveniences that are offered to him, and he'll make deals with others to get those conveniences--but at the end of the day, it's all for a good cause: maintaining the peace.

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flesh-heart · 2 months ago

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CHNT THEORY MASTER POST + EVIDENCE

> only evidence from within the text itself, no patreon spoilers

!! IN HONOUR OF SEASON TWO BEING ANNOUNCED HERE IS A BREAK DOWN OF EVIDENCE AND UNKNOWNS ACROSS SEASON ONE !!

0. background info

1. sydneys death

2. lucille and fire

3. jedidiahs project

to be added to ..?

0. BACKGROUND

- CHNT files exist as evidence for a celestial trial from the agents

- THE LIMN is where camp exists, seemingly a bubble formed around sydney where time and space are distorted.

* the limn impacts memories

- per agent knowledge, camp takes place at site 2 (ranked in most relation to the resurrection/the Limn) and the characters are ranked as entities most thought to be in relation to the limn

- episode 1 takes place approximately 2 and just over a half years after the resurrection (952 days)

- Anomalies are pockets of unreality within the existence of “earth”, seemingly ranked in correlation of proximity to camp (anomaly1 being the bonfire… etc)

- there are two KNOWN types of magic discussed (cthonic and celestial) (cthonic being necromancy, occult and metaphysical, celestial being ‘heavenly’, time and space)

- NOTE: Elijah has cthonic abilities

- Jedidiah APPEARS to have celestial

relations- likely clock of meantime related.

- Matthew is unknown to be an anomaly, human, or aptitude of some kind

- agents exist on a train (implied in file, semi confirmed), which navigates through space and time. agents appear to be celestial guardians responsible for keeping order and preventing universe death

- “in-between” announcement song is heavily train themed,

- the agents are connected to the sanatorium, thought to receive the cassette tapes through this method

- Tony 1 & Tony 2 are the only canon agents we know of currently (agents 15+16)

- Agents appear not to be overly affected by the magic system (not affected in FILE16 + FILE32)

- sun, moon and sky (known celestial bodies) ARE impacted by magic

- AGENT23 Names the files, Agent1 appears to be overseeing the nature of the “trial”. Agents appear to be numbered in correlation to the trial

1. schrödinger’s Sydney

Of Note:

Sydney struggled with hallucinations which went away seemingly after his resurrection (FILE 3) Sydney also lost the ability to astral project post res. his soul is tied down to his body

Sydney has a natural interest in the cthonic, participating in magic and rituals pre-resurrection (FILE 28, FILE 33)

particular emphasis on the fact sydney is safe in camp, he can’t be hurt in camp. leaving camp grounds results in hypoxia (FILE 6)

Sydney mentions his death, seemingly unknowingly, very frequently. Examples include; file 1–> “Most Likely To Get Killed As Consequence Of Reckless Thirst For Forbidden Knowledge”, file 6–> “Like, am I immortal? Am I already dead?”, the infamous file 14–> “ive always wanted to be killed by something that loved me”, file 16 ->sydneys childhood dreams, file 23-> “being a bit paranoid is better than rotting alive”, “necromancy is pointless.. without death you cant live”, file 25-> “constantly tired, constantly afraid, not even allowed to die” when referring to the fox-hunt

Theory: Sydney’s death was via drowning

Sydney is connected to the unknowable shape in the lake (like the journals, anything connected to sydneys death and resurrection seem to impact reality itself to hide it)

Up And Adam reminds Syndey and meets with Sydney in bodies of water. Adam is known to be interested in tormenting Sydney based off his memories

Soren’s rabbit was disposed of in the lake

The lake is associated with decomposition (file 13)

Sydney has always been afraid of the water (file 17)

abandoning a child in a lake huh? thats what motherhood means to you?(file 18)

thoughts: sydneys primary symptoms out of the camp is struggling to breathe (hypoxia)- typically related to drowning. the limn is known to reconstruct/mess with memories to keep its nature hidden, including masking how sydney died. i believe sydneys fear of the water stems not from childhood but from his death. as well, the unknowable object in the lake appears related to sydney

2. who is Lucille

lucille has a large association with fire, including the bon fire and her flame thrower

lucille, sydney and sorren are the only ones to step foot on the death fields (file 4)

lucille lived on camp before sydney (file 34), but the origins of camp are unknown

lucille’s appears to know everything at camp, similar to sydney

with lucilles presence at the camp all year around, just like sydney, and seemingly no mentions of her leaving the camp even for small periods of time,

as we infer Sydney’s soul is connected to the lake, Lucille’s is possibly connected to the bon fire. with her fire imagery and puppet imagery, and the fact she knows everything occurring within camp always, just like sydney when he speaks with the bonfire, i theorize the bonfire is tied to Lucille in some aspect

3. Jedidiah’s Project

the timeline at chnt goes

- Jedidiah has been distant for 6 years ish, Sydney died before becoming a camp counsellor (file 34), there were 4 months where sydney was in the hospital (approx hospitalized june/july?), sydney was resurrected 2.6 years ago since the first episode. jedidiah has been working on his new project for the last year and a half

Jedidiah does not remember how he resurrected Sydney, his memories were contained to his journal

Jedidiah has agent connections, through his clocks, through the tonies and potentially lucille..?

Jedidiahs project is likely black market/illegal, with the fairymarket sigil (file 8). “if you found out what I was working on, you’d die a horrible death” (File 34)

my theory: what jedidiah is working on is likely related to health, life force and energy and necromancy. we know jedidiah was investigating magic for the sake of Sydney’s health pre-resurrection, so why would he stop after sydney has been brought back? what do you do when a machine stops working? you turn it off and on again. my theory is what hes doing is finding a method to cure sydney, to take care of him fully and mold his body into something free of his chronic illness- whether that requires killing him to start over, or not

ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW!!!

HAPPY CHNT Season 2 soon………..

#camp here and there #chnt #camp here and there theories #fan theory #sydney sargent #sydney o sargent #jedidiah martin #jedidiah a a martin #blue when i get you blue #TOMB RAMBLES #lucille bertuccelli

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rebeltarot · 1 year ago

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YOUR UNIVERSE ➕ Who are you becoming now, and who are you meant to become?

"We can’t become what we need to be by remaining what we are."

[3 piles] ・ [3 decks] ・ [10 cards for each pile] ・ [letters, signs, songs]

Hello friends! It's almost International Women's Day, and I am so excited to share this reading with you. We are focusing on who you are becoming now, and who you are meant to become! Are you planning on rebranding yourself? Definitely let me know. I hope you'll enjoy this reading as much as I did doing it. See you on the other side! 🤭🤭🤭

Painting: The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage - Edgar Degas (1874)

Helpful Links: How to choose your pile ➕ Request a reading

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 01 ➕

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

E, blank, E, I, 8th House, North Node, Cancer, "be fearless, change is good"

Song: BESIDE U - MONSTA X, Pitbull

CARDS

Tarot: 10 of cups, the wheel of fortune, 7 of pentacles, king of cups

Oracle: pioneer, the spymaster, deer, Martyr, the brawler, moose

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 01, and welcome to your reading. Currently, you are becoming someone with overflowing cups. You have much love and happiness to give and share with others. It feels like you are aligning with who you are and what brings you joy, which leads to fulfillment and a sense of belonging. I see harmony playing a huge role here. You are finding your balance and being at peace with yourself. This new version of you that you are growing into is collecting a lot of good karma. Things are moving and developing in your favor. You are in the midst of a transformative stage that leads to a lot of luck and positivity. You are going to become someone who welcomes change and strives to move with integrity. You are sharing your wealth, and you are swimming in your own passions and good fortune. It's so interesting to me because, essentially, this describes a creator, someone who is open to new experiences and open to trying and creating new things that others have not done before. It also reminds me of cycle breakers. This new version of you holds a lot of empathy and grace. You are learning and unlearning a lot right now, and I feel like you are going to be smart with the knowledge you attain. There is still a sense of distrust here, meaning that while, yes, you are growing into this person with an abundance of love to give and happiness to experience, you are not yet fully trusting that reality. Meaning that you are still in the beginning stages; it's new to you. You have figured out a lot of things, and positivity is already manifesting for you, but it feels like it has not been long enough and you have not collected enough positive evidence vs. the negative experiences. It feels fragile still. You are, however, being a lot more gentle with yourself. The person you are becoming right now wraps everything in love. Your first go-to move is to meet the situations you encounter with tenderness and compassion. You are healing right now with the power of love, and the person you are growing into can see the light and good in all things and situations. The reason is that you are finally seeing your self-worth, and you're acknowledging your grace. Beautiful.

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

You are meant to be a seeker, someone who keeps searching for new ways and new opportunities. You are not meant to sit idle; instead, you are supposed to become a person who is continuously striving for new ways and solutions. A thinker and a pioneer. You are meant to dream and implement. To move past illusions, find multiple ways and solutions to problems and situations. You are meant to be a dreamer and an idealist. Someone wise and diplomatic. Holding a lot of compassion and being devoted to the good and beautiful things in life. You are meant to become a person who can balance the head and the heart. Being of service to yourself and others is your cause and purpose in life. You are meant to use your knowledge and creativity for that. You are meant to help and support those around you who are hurt by bandaging them up and guiding them towards empathy. Helping others confront themselves and their lack of compassion and grace for themselves and others. You are meant to let your head and mind reach to the stars, yet stay grounded on the earth. Listening to your inner knowing and your attained wisdom to guide others through their journey. You are meant to be a guide because you have learned a lot and know a lot.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 02 ➕

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

D, I, C, T, S, Aquarius, Venus, 6th House

Song: Out of luck - Tkay Maidza, Lolo Zouaï, Amber Mark

CARDS

Tarot: 7 of wands, the emperor, 6 of wands, 6 of cups

Oracle: hawk, athlete, the heir, sea turtle, advocate, the poet

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 02, and welcome to your reading. You are becoming a person with a lot of stamina, capable of persevering through challenges and competition. You can protect yourself; you are willing to work on yourself and do the difficult things if it means that it helps you progress and grow. You are not backing away from a challenge; instead, you are running towards what scares you. I see you becoming someone who is disciplined and who creates stability and success. You can rely on yourself, and you take charge and control over your life by putting in the action needed to move forward. Truly impressive. You are also becoming more observant; you are taking in the information you can collect, and you are opening up your vision to any signs around you, guiding you, and relaying a message to you. It's like you have gotten rid of the blinders that kept you from seeing, and now you are going through life with 20/20 vision. You can determine your priorities and focus on them by eliminating any distractions. You are being honest with yourself and working with who you are instead of against you. You are aware of your 'weaknesses'. Honestly, the work you are putting in right now is truly valuable and opens up a bright future for yourself. You are allowing yourself to succeed. The person you are becoming is not afraid anymore of success, and you are stepping out of your way, ascending to new heights. Whatever limits you might have had before, you are transcending them. You are developing your willpower and strength of spirit, which makes you honestly unstoppable. You are now seeing your unseen potential, and you are wearing that crown without any hesitation.

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

You are meant to be someone who is in harmony, in alignment, and able to pivot when need be. The person you are meant to become is a winner; you are meant to experience success, win, and gain public recognition for your efforts and fame. You are meant to progress, grow, and move forward. The person you are growing into is confident in themselves; you are meant to walk with your shoulders straight and your head held high. You are destined to be someone! The fame aspect can be global or related to your industry or community, but either way, you are meant to be acknowledged. You are predestined to be an inspiration. I feel like this heavily relates to childhood dreams and innocent intentions. You are meant to be someone joyful, someone who looks back on your life with happiness. You are supposed to be someone who holds a lot of goodwill and can reach out their hand to others with positivity and appreciation. I see you being meant to be a protector. You are destined to master finding life's flow and to be in harmony with the rhythm of life to unfold your path. You are supposed to become a hard-working person who perseveres. Your mastery of yourself will protect you and lead to a lot of happiness and fulfillment. You are meant to inspire others to put compassion into action as well as be an advocate, someone who uses their public attention and recognition to channel it into growth. To advocate for important causes that allow humanity as a whole to move forward and transform. Through your connections and through your words, you are meant to lead with vulnerability and honesty. With the feather pen, a part of this pile is certainly meant to become writers or public speakers of some sort. Some might become poets or musicians, too.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 03 ➕

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

A, A, O, N, Aries, Mercury, 9th House

Song: is it new years yet? - Sabrina Carpenter

CARDS

Tarot: 9 of wands, 5 of wands, Knight of wands, 3 of cups

Oracle: dragonfly, mystic, the founder, owl, don Juan, the dancer

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 03, and welcome to your reading. You are currently becoming resilient. Nothing can stop you as you courageously persist through whatever challenges you are met with. You are mastering setting boundaries, and you are guarding yourself and your peace. I do feel like you are becoming someone who does not shy away from conflict or opposition. Instead, you are welcoming diversity and opposing opinions to strengthen your muscles. What's interesting in your pile is how magic plays a big role both in who you are becoming now and who you are meant to become. The owl and the dragonfly are both associated with that keyword. You are openly embracing transformation and change. And you are courageously letting go of the past, allowing the magic of nature that is in you to highlight your brilliance and your blessings. I also see you embracing the divine more intimately in your life; take this however it resonates for you. For some, this talks about religion; for others, it talks about spirituality; and for another portion, it relates to practices such as tarot, etc. Either way, you are growing closer to the divine and embracing your inner wisdom. I see you also building something valuable and stable. You are founding something and birthing something brand new to you that has not existed before. I see you laying sustainable and stable foundations and building yourself a community that will last. You are heavily investing in your "village.".

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

Who you are meant to become is someone inspiring and energetic. Your future self is supposed to take inspired action and follow your intuition. You are meant to be impulsive and adventurous, spontaneous, and take on any challenge that presents itself to you and that you find interesting enough to face and engage in. I see you being meant to play an integral part in a community of people that you have built, creating new things together, brainstorming, and birthing something essential in union with other people. It could very well be a community of something. Either way, it's magical and relates to your inner vision and wisdom. You are meant to choose to see the truth and see through deception. You are destined to let the past go and make room for a better life, so you can experience the good life. The person you are meant to become is supposed to rise because magic and wisdom are your birthright. I also feel like you are meant to lean into your seductive qualities. You are charming and persuasive; own that. You are destined to be free and to dance to your beat. Self-expression and inner strength are really big factors in who you are meant to become. To show up authentically in a one-size-fits-all world takes a lot of courage and strength, and you are destined to do exactly that. Show your true self and follow your intuition; it will never lead you astray.

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #tarot community #free tarot readings #tarot readers #blessings #tarot of tumblr #free tarot #pick an image #tarot readings #divination #witchblr #spiritual community #tarot reading #tarot #channeled messages

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claudiafrankie · 7 months ago

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Soul Purpose/Why Are You Here?

Disclaimer: Tarot is not an evidence-based practice. You are in charge of making your own decisions.

Pile 1: Abundance

Hey pile 1! You picked the Abundance oracle card. Your tarot cards are the 2 of Swords, 3 of Swords, and the King of Cups.

As I was shuffling I was focusing on the imagery of your oracle card. I strongly got the feeling of being kind of put on the spot. You are having to make quick decisions. It's like the shape in the center of the card has so much going on around it. It's chaotic! The figures filling the picture look like sea creatures to me - sea urchins, those glowy jellyfish that live in the bottom of the ocean, sand dollars... All floating around in the current but in this big, condensed cluster. It's kinda dark in there but there's some sun coming through the current above.

Under sea kelp beds, that's the environment. You're here:

You're not quite sure what all you're going to come across. Cute fish... shark... friendly anthropomorphic sea otter wearing a news cap and suspenders... multiple sharks...

It's a little creepy/ominous but more importantly very beautiful and serene and otherworldly.

You're swimming through this kelp garden and you don't know what you're going to find, and all kinds of different things are going to pop out at you, you're going to have a lot of options in a lot of different areas in your life. You are not going to be someone who is stationary for very long. I think if you are stagnant and still (something you may struggle with) you aren't happy. You are bored more easily than others and have a deep craving for knowledge and novelty, absorbing every last drop of life that you can.

I think in human design, generator people's tell-tale sign for being out of alignment is frustration, they thrive off of having choices to pick from. This helps them feel inspired and like they are getting more out of life. Maybe you are a generator in human design, I think that is the most common type. You are a person of the people, you are salt of the earth, you care deeply for humanity and always pull yourself back to center when you catch yourself straying. You don't let things get to your head as much as you could.

It also looks like there's a chromosome in the center shape on the card. You are here unraveling karma from your past lives and for your ancestors. You are probably dealing with karma that you didn't create personally but exists in your bloodline. The bottom of the deck is the ten of swords - there are mostly sword cards here, with the king of cups standing out as the only water card. This is very Ardra energy in vedic astrology - strong, turbulent, powerful and stormy emotions. Ardra's deity is Rudra, a form of Shiva - who rules over storms. You are clearing out ooooold emotions that have been rotting in your family tree for years. You are finally processing some long-neglected baggage and releasing it.

The combination of the progression of the two to the three of swords, ending with the King of Cups suggests to me that you are going to become a true master of your inner world. Your lens you look at the world through will reach a level of clarity previously unknown to you and likely to your family. You are in tune with the environment in an electric way, sensing the humming and buzzing and shifts in the pitch and tone of the current washing around you. You let it all pass through you, understanding the futility in pretending to be unaffected. You let it pass through you, and you let it be there, and you don't let it shake you. For this reason others will cling to you - the RWS King of Cups sits on a throne carved from solid stone. It is anchored in tossing waves with a grey sky suggesting storms ahead. He looks calmly onward. People will view you as a shock-absorber, someone who can weather catastrophe and guide others through difficulty. I think this is where you are headed, but maybe aren't there quite yet.

Other people might get away (or at least seem to) with pushing aside their pain and never really dealing with it. You aren't one of these people. Your path to fulfillment is through making difficult decisions, sometimes ones where there really isn't a good option. Some of these decisions could affect other people as well. I see this as your heart existing in your head. So much compassion in tandem with a razor-sharp mind. Highly analytical, meticulous, maybe even fussy, combined with glowing warmth that can only be achieved by facing hardship.

There could be a significant male figure in your life who guides you, and you may not recognize the significance of his impact on your life until he's no longer in it. This might be someone you only know for a short period of time before parting ways. Maybe at the time of meeting them it's too overwhelming for you and it doesn't end so well, but the more you digest the relationship over time and think about what you learned from them, the deeper you understand the purity of this person, and the reasons why he navigates the world the way that he does. I think, going through hardship yourself and choosing to remain soft and gentle, you recognize this as a lesson you learned from this person. It's brave to continue believing in people. Also, it's possible to do it without being naive.

This pile knows the true meaning of unfairness. You know what it means to be made to feel selfish for taking care of yourself. You know what it means to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, to be going through immense difficulty behind the scenes and still getting through the days treating people with kindness. Yeah you just see and feel the pain in others, you sense their stories even if it's just a stranger. You probably walk away from getting coffee and wondering how the barista is handling their breakup even though that was your first encounter with them.

Pile 2: Phenomenon

So right off the bat, Chappel Roan's song Feminomenon might be of significance lol. Maybe that song you was on repeat for you this summer, or you are LGBTQ+, or in some way don't fit in with the norm. Chappel Roan is famous for her drag outfits and crazy makeup and big hair - you could be into style, fashion, hair/makeup. Or maybe you are wanting to get more into these things but don't know how? Maybe you are struggling with expressing yourself right now, and this is a recurring struggle you deal with. If you are struggling with it, I think it's because it's actually something you're really good at - I think you have a natural eye for fashion and art, it's just that you need to reconnect with this part of yourself, and that re connection process will help you get deeper and better with and at it.

Next to your Phenomenon oracle card I pulled the Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups, and the Page of Cups. So all water, you are definitely here to learn how to express your feelings. I think you often feel like sharing how you feel makes you self-centered or you're "making it all about you," even though it ironically helps your relationships because you connect with people better when you're emotionally honest with them.

I think currently you're at a pretty comfortable spot in life. You've worked really hard and have been very much in your earth energy - taking care of your body, keeping a clean home, focusing on consistency at work and in your self-care and discipline. You've worked really hard to get here, and you're finally learning how to give yourself credit for it.

However, I think it still feels like something is missing for you. Looking at your cards (from right to left), the Page of Cups is offering the Ace of Cups to the Nine of Cups. The cup you're looking for, the special sauce that you are missing right now, is connected with your inner child. I think while working on improving your earth energy has been wildly beneficial for you (maybe you're successful for your age, or just really good at keeping your shit together and running a sane life for yourself) you have lost a little bit of touch with your inner softy.

I think you're probably cringing at that too, a little bit lol. Like "man I don't have time to cry and play in my coloring book I gotta pack lunch for work tomorrow" hahahaha. But honestly, if someone has that mindset or thought process about playfulness and fun, they need that energy the most!! In your list of things to do over the weekend that keep your life tidy and chugging along, you are being called to add something wholesome and fun in there.

It's easy to get in the swing of daily living and going through the motions, and it's not wrong at all to pride yourself on your ability to keep a tidy ship. BUT lol that doesn't mean you have to lose out on some harmless chaos and unstructured fun times. You don't let yourself let your hair down as much as you could be. Obviously don't go out and go crazy and do something dangerous lol and if you're not ready to go clubbing every weekend you can start small! Maybe there's a bakery near you that you haven't tried with kick ass muffins, go try that place out. If you're really particular about cleaning your place, try cleaning it in a more 'chill' way if that makes sense lol. Try out letting go of intensity and a "I just need to get this done" attitude. Maybe that means the floors won't be as spotless after mopping than they usually are but hey, they're still clean right?

Yeah I think what's really coming through for this pile is letting going of perfection and holding yourself to unrealistic standards, so much of your power lies in fun, and not just fun but also facilitating fun. Lifting up the people around you. With the Ace of Cups in the middle of your spread, you guys are here to out pour to those around you. People are enchanted by you and think you live a charmed life, they are envious of your innocence, your lack of care for/about status and authority. It's refreshing (i mean, these are all cups cards lol) on multiple levels! You might not notice how your inner child lifts people up, and how just one conversation you have with someone leaves them feeling nourished after you walk away.

Pile 3: Vulnerability

Hey pile 3 welcome!

You guys picked the vulnerability oracle card and your tarot cards are the four of pentacles, the ace of wands, and the magician. This is the description for your oracle card:

"As the flower opens and offers itself, the butterfly says "yes." Opening and exposing ourselves to new possibility comes with risk, but also holds the potential for great reward. Be willing to share your gifts with the world, allowing the acceptance and recognition vulnerability can bring."

This one feels pretty damn straightforward haha, you guys are here to build literally any life that you want to. I am looking and these cards as a progression - the man in the four of pentacles seizes the ace of wands and becomes the magician. Literally he lets go of these four measly pentacles, grabs the magic wand, and become the magician he was always meant to become.

You guys have sooooo much power within you. Your manifesting skills are truly off the chart and it seems like right now you're not really sure what to do with this gift. I think you could be feeling overwhelmed by all the possibilities. You are probably the kind of person who has a lot of different interests, can feign commonality with just about anyone because you're smart and absorb knowledge like a sponge - so you have tidbits of information on a huge range of topics. Someone will bring up in conversation that their grandparents berry farm is suffering because of a disease or certain kind of pest in the area and you're like "oh yeah I've heard that those types of flies are invasive and it's like becoming a widespread problem" lmao.

You could be a gemini mars or north node - the tarot card associated with mars in gemini is the nine of swords - literally analysis paralysis is your guys' biggest obstacle. You have everything in your head, but you struggle to bring your creations to life. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys are some flavor of neurodivergent, maybe ADHD or on the autism spectrum. You are ahead of the times.

I think this pile is similar to pile one because I'm getting an ancestral element for you guys. I think the women in your family have packed on years of frustration because they were made to believe that they just can't build for themselves. The women in your family line have sat with huge creative potential but the fear they carried prevented them from being able to actually use it to birth their ideas into the real world. They saw their fathers and brothers and husbands go out into the world with so much confidence, maybe with less skill or more boring ideas, and create success for themselves. I think you should know that it was not all sunshine and roses for the men in your family - there was such a huge amount of pressure to achieve and earn and perform that they didn't even really get a chance to really choose what they wanted to do. They just knew that it was expected of them to do well and provide for their families.

But the women, ah there is so much rage honestly. You have the chance in this lifetime to channel not only your own creativity but that of your mother, her mother, her sisters, etc. I think when you create it's a full experience for you. Like it's not that you don't phone it in, it's that you can't. You can't make something and not be fully in it. I think this might be part of your blockage as well - you tell yourself that if something you make isn't perfect or exactly as you envisioned it in your head, then it was a waste of time. It wasn't. I think if you allow yourself to be messy and be a little more process-oriented, you can really get the ball rolling for yourself. And honestly probably process a lot of those packed on emotions from your family.

You are someone who can get quick results in things if you really put your mind to something. Right now it seems like your task is to sift through your daydreams, then after that you can start taking some little steps towards making something happen. Even if it's something tiny you do to get closer to a goal, it's still really important for you guys especially to really celebrate that. And really mean it when you celebrate! If you guys work a job you aren't crazy about to pay the bills like so many of us do, maybe you have been drained or just don't see how you have the time to make one of your interests something more than just an idea in your head.

This is going to be a process of re-parenting yourself in a way. If you belittle your accomplishments and progress towards the things you really want to bring into the world, they will slowly shrivel up. You wouldn't make fun of a kid for trying something new and not being amazing at it, so you can't do that with yourself. You deserve support and love on your journey, not only that but you need it! You have the power to create the space for yourself to thrive in, and then thrive in it! You guys are honestly like buzzing with electricity. I think sometimes you have so many ideas that you get confused and tired just thinking about all of them, and maybe you act out in frustration but your not even sure why your upset. There are parts of yourself that have not been given enough attention, and once you start letting them out in the light they can show you what they can help you do in this life.

I think too that getting more in touch with your sexuality will help with this process, getting more in your body and letting yourself feel sexy and sensual, really being in the moment with your body and then carrying that energy with you in your endeavors. Yeah let yourself be a horndog lol it will help you reach your goals

Best of luck pile 3, not that I think you need it hahaha

#pick a card #pac reading #tarot reading #tarot

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boycarofchilladelphia · 3 months ago

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My friend, I can promise you the mormon church is far closer to most hate groups than it is to any standard religion. Both its formation and current rhetoric rely on the control of its members both in thought and action. The doctrine is based on the racist notion that it is the true history of the First Nations peoples of America and asserts that they were actually Jews escaping Jerusalem, a claim that only exists within the Book of Mormon and is refuted by dna evidence and ethnographic studies. The original text of the book of mormon (before the many rewrites) wrote that people would become white and delightsome (meaning of lighter skin) and that only those with white skin would be allowed into heaven. There have been passages describing the Nephites as white and Lamenites as darker skinned as they were blackened by the mark of cain. There are people who have been told that same thing and tried to pray away their dark skin. The entire rhetoric of the mormon church relies on people believing they are better than everyone else, that they alone know the secret truths that will get them into the celestial kingdom and become gods, that they alone look upon a world of filth and decay praying for the day that judgement finally dawns, that they alone know the true history of the native peoples of the Americas because they have simply "forgotten" the truth as they purged the only true believers from the land. You DO believe in a religion that thinks themselves higher than the world with sacred knowledge based on a lie of supposed great and lost people you are uniquely descended from. You play into this by ranking the supposed accuracy of claims against your church without even knowing the real history and formation of its conception. You uphold this same attitude as if other just are misinformed or just stupid while talking down to them like they're a child. You uphold this bastard churches ideals with your own hubris thinking its kindness. There is a reason as to why people view this church as a cult at best and breeding ground for fascist at worst. There is a reason why there was a cosplayer of Captain Moroni at the January Sixth Insurrection.

I know this will fall on deaf ears, I know that I shouldn't write this for my own mental health, but I also know what the mormon church did to me and many of my friends. I can't just let this slide. I owe it to myself to tell you what I wish someone would've told me. This church is nothing but a deeply racist, misogynist mess based in a fascist dream. I hope you will one day understand and find a better path. I would wish for nothing more than for you to read this out and internalize but I know better. I can only hope this softens your heart. I wish the best for you and your future, but not for your church. I hope one day you will take this for the olive branch that it is for your own sake.

Have a good life.

Before I dive into this ask, I gotta say, I was beginning to worry that I would never get anon hate on this site. Bless you for taking the time to brighten my day a little.

Anyway, in all seriousness, it's obvious that you and your friends have been deeply hurt by the Church. I can't apologize for the Church, but I can say that I'm personally so sorry that happened to you and your friends. I can only imagine how hard your life must have been to get to this point, and it says volumes about you that you're willing to try and prevent that harm in a stranger's life. I admire that dedication to kindness and truth, so thank you, truly, for the kind intentions you have.

There's a lot here, so I probably won't address it all piece by piece, but I'll mostly say that you're not wrong. I think my biggest clarification I would make here is that the doctrine is not "based" on the Book of Mormon (in all of its imperfections) at all; it's based on the Atonement of Jesus Christ and his Gospel and the desire for our Heavenly Father to have us all back in His loving arms.

But I promise I'm not cherry-picking one detail in order to throw out your entire argument! The modern Church, in many ways, does rely on control of thought and action of its members. Do they usually do it in the name of inspiration from God? Yup. Does that make it any better? Well, depends on whether you believe in that inspiration or not, but I digress. Moving on: the Book of Mormon being both subtly and bluntly racist, even with some of the kindest readings I've seen? Yeah, friend, I know. Its historicity being unsupported by literally all the current scholarly data we have? Yeah, I know that too. The Church actively teaching false racist lies for MANY years, and even today failing to altogether purge them from their members' teachings and hearts? I know about that, too. And yes, there are significant problems with the Church's attitude towards, history of, and rhetoric about native peoples; I'm not denying that. And we're not even gonna start into the mistreatment, mischaracterization, and downright falsities the Church holds onto when it comes to the LGBTQ+ communities; let's just say I am painfully aware, though I would never wish to be unaware of any of the truths you've mentioned.

Long story short, I'm not denying the very obvious problems that have arisen, and continue to arise, from the failures of men (and while I use that term for mankind, let's be honest; it's usually white men anyway) to teach accurately and correctly the doctrine of Christ. My own testimony is not based in blind submission, nor is it a parroting of rhetoric that I have heard. I have struggled with pretty much every single thing you've mentioned or alluded to on this list, and yet I managed, by the literal Grace of God, to come out on the other side with my faith intact; I do not reject the Church for its imperfections, but I refuse to ignore them as well. My faith does not mean I agree with the Church without reservation. My faith does not mean I obey without question. My faith does not mean that I accept, condone, or apologize for the sins of centuries of Christians regarding the role of faith in their lives. All it means is that I have received a witness through the Holy Spirit that, at least for now, this is the place I need to be. That's not based on physical evidence, a rewriting of ugly history/teachings(past and present), or any sort of dedication to imperfect people.

I'm sorry my ranking felt like I was dismissing your concerns or talking down to you; I never meant for either of this things to be true. It was meant to be a playful discussion more than a full refutation of misinformation, but it sounds like I may have failed in both goals simultaneously, and I take full responsibility for the hurt that it caused you.

That's pretty much everything I feel like I need to say in response to your ask, and I apologize again if my somewhat flippant intro put you off; one of my many flaws is that I try and inject levity into many serious situations. But, if you're interested in some critical thinking exercises, I will gladly hit you with a few thought questions:

If we believe in being better than everyone else because of our temple covenants, as you alluded to, why would we have those temple covenants as the goal for every person from all of history? Why would we actively bring others to the temple, both living and dead, in order to have those ordenances performed for as many of our brothers, sisters, and any others that have ever existed*?

If the Church is more of a hate group than "standard religions", why did the scriptural Jesus Christ never preach that hate? Could it be that the Church is a product of imperfection, racism, and misogyny folded together throughout the years, and that even in spite of those glaring problems, 17 million people globally have, at one time or another found a measure of peace and belonging in Christ's teachings from that very Church? That isn't to say that we should accept the Church without judgement; we can do so much better than just 17 million people, especially as soon as we shirk these dangerous ideals taught by the mouths of imperfect men.

Is it possible for good and evil to co-exist in a church, especially this Church? Is it possible that a perfect God can create an imperfect Church? We could go back and forth on relative good done versus relative evil, but that's more a matter of opinion than it is data. But is it at all possible that there are no simple, black-or-white answers? Might I gently suggest that you're falling victim to the same binary good-or-bad thinking that the Church taught you, just now on the side of "the Church is all bad and therefore cannot do good"?

None of these questions are here to say you're wrong; I cannot ultimately make that judgement because I don't know what the Spirit has or hasn't witnessed to you. It could be that you feel the Spirit has told you to completely abandon the Church because of all of its flaws; that's okay. It could be that you deny the very existence of the Spirit and think that I'm fooling myself into staying in a cult; that's okay, too. But you cannot outright deny the witness I have received based on your own witness, perception, or opinion. And generalizing that opinion/perception/witness to claim that I ignore the Church's faults or somehow am an apologetic for them or even that I'm ignorant of them? Well, that's an assumption you made based on your own reasoning, experiences, and thoughts; I can assure you that I have come face to face with many horrors and misdeeds attributed to and caused by the Church, including harmful doctrines and attitudes in my own life and behavior, and frankly I don't expect that I've encountered them all. And yet, for now, I believe.

*: Yeah, there's a very legitimate argument to be made that the temple doesn't let LGBTQ+ people access the same blessings as non-LGBTQ+ members; I totally agree that is a problem that NEEDS to be fixed for us to have any sort of claim of being followers of Christ at the judgement. I am speaking in idealized terms here, for sure, and I recognize that.

#Lds #mormon #tumblrstake #queerstake #Phew that was a long one #Forgive my tendency to wax verbose; hopefully I can point future asks to this one and save myself a little time

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