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#perils of modern living
gnossienne · 4 months
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Arundhati Roy, Power Politics (2001)
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obsessivevoidkitten · 11 months
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Building a Hornet’s Nest
Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.) 
When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.
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wangxianficfinder · 2 months
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Curses, Potions, and Spells (Oh my)
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Curses
shape me something new by perilously (E, 24k, WangXian, Sharing a Body, set in CQL canon but inspired by the novel, Non-Penetrative Sex, Masturbation, (kind of), Slight Canon Divergence, some horror-adjacent imagery)
come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)
See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)
Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters,  Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)
You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)
This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)
leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, lesbian wq rights, Music, Orchestra, platonic and romantic pining)
pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)
Stainless by Fahye (E, 6k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat)
as amber of ember glows by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, First Time, Miscommunication, Aphrodisiacs, pining for the person you're fucking, Getting Together, mostly)
miss me once the thrill expires by idrilka (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern With Cultivation, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Curses, Sex Pollen, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms, first time barebacking, Face-Fucking)
Say So by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 15k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Fucking Your Best Friend, Light Dom/sub, extreme orgasm denial wanxgian edition, Dirty Talk, Love Confessions)
🔒Embers by xantissa (E, 38k, WangXian, XiXian, WangXianXi, Jadecest, Angst, drama, Fluff, Falling In Love, sex pollen trope (curse), dub con, Comfort, Grief, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Sibling Incest, Switching, Flirting, Learning to live again, Magic, Curses, Everyone is Badass, lwj has a sense of humor, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)
a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)
So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend (E, 13k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Confessions, Drunkenness)
❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)
🔒How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)
Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)
with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)
in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)
Of Curses and Cottontails by Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, burial mounds settlement days, curses, animal transformation, rabbit LWJ, angry bunji, fluff & humor, fix-it, golden core reveal)
🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)
Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 13k, wangxian, curses, curse breaking, mermaids, fix-it of sorts, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, secrets, confessions, hurt/comfort, golden core transfer fix-it, genius WWX)
Lover's Curse by littlesystems (E, 15k, WangXian, Fuck Or Die, Dubcon implicit in fuck or die, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Cultivation Sect Politics, Brotherly Meddling, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Bruising, Overstimulation)
The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst)
🧡 moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)
A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)
🔒 the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, Ensemble Cast, Animal Transformation, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of a glucose guardian vibe actually, Fairy Tale Elements, Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, they're soft, Secret Identity, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining)
The Sun Will Rise series by vespertineflora (E, 129k, wangxian, Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Human/Monster Romance, Tentacle Monsters, Plant Monsters, Tentacle Sex, vine sex, Vines, Monster LWJ, Human WWX, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Happy Ending, Groping, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Prostate Massage, First Time, Multiple Orgasms, The Cloud Recesses Rabbits, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Homesickness, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Overstimulation, BAMF WWX, Stabbing, Near Death, Poisoning, Protective LWJ, Seduction, Aphrodisiacs, Snow and Ice, ,Snowball Fight, Lost Love, Falling In Love, Drunken Kissing, Sex Pollen, Submission, Subspace, Multiple Penetration, Love Confessions, full body restraint, Emotional Sex, Reincarnation, Sounding, Urethral Play, Prostate Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Shameless Smut)
~*~
Potions (includes poisons)
Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people's lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc)
🔒Truths Laid Bare For All by Preludian_Staves (T, 42k, wangxian, arranged marriage, not Jiang friendly, truth serum, love confessions, golden core reveal, implied referenced abuse, getting to know each other, genius WWX, falling in love, courting, WIP)
pomegranates for the softest parts of you by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, LWJ Has a Crush, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Courting Rituals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Dorks in Love, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mind Manipulation, Manipulation, JC and LWJ Dislike Each Other, Good Sibling JC, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt, Supportive LXC, Supportive Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Metaphorically Qì-Deviates, Mentioned Madam Lán, Blood, Fainting, Soft WangXian, Cute WangXian, Dubious Consent, Feelings Realization)
Truth to Tell by SequoiaSempervirens (M, 3k, WangXian, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, silliness, Truth Serum, Kidnapping, Worried LWJ, Protective LWJ)
🔒After Truth Lies the Honest Path by Vrishchika (M, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Truth Serum, Angry WWX, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Mild Angst, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Getting Together)
Potion by UglyBeautiful (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, College/University, Witchcraft, Love Potion/Spell, Idiots in Love, LWJ Has a Big Dick, LWJ has a very dirty mind, Anal Sex, Rimming, Compulsory Heterosexuality, licking vegan marshmallow paste off a naked body, Happy Ending, Scheming NHS, Ghost familiar with many guises NHS)
Love potion and a remedy for the heart. by satans_dolly_boy666 (G, 2k, XiXian, WangXian, Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Brotherly Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Friendship/Love, Declarations Of Love, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealous LWJ, Protective LXC, Oblivious WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Supportive Sibling LXC, Soft LXC, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eventual WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Crack, Attempt at Humor)
scope and limitations by mercurials (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, chemistry major wwx, Love Potion/Spell, Fluff, Mutual Pining)
At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine by KatAnni (T, 11k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, Fainting, Angst, Poisoning, JZN is an asshole, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, a little poisoning will solve all your problems!, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Attempted Murder, Everyone Lives AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence)
~*~
Spells (includes talismans/arrays)
The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)
Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)
hope dangling by a string by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)
🔒I am sorry for taking your voice by misterfish (G, 8k, WIP, WWX/OMC, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Remorse LWJ, Mute WWX, Jiāng Family Bashing, Past Child Abuse)
Couldn't Scream Couldn't Shout by mermorgie (T, 42k, WIP, WangXian, Not for jc stans, Muteness, Sign Language, references to selective mutism, Homophobic JC, canon jc characteristics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Pining, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Supportive Sibling LXC, JZX Tries, LQR Tries, Protective JZX, Scheming NHS, Bisexual JZX, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Jiāng Family Bashing)
Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)
on his best bee-haviour (pun very much intended) by HeavenlySkyfarer (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern With Cultivation, Humor, Fluff, Good Uncle LQR, Gremlin WWX, Bees, Established WangXian)
all the broken things that I made by ilip13 (E, 43k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, (then back to lovers I'm not a monster), Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, But mostly not in the way you might expect - see notes for details, Explicit Sexual Content, Bondage, Flirting, Competence Kink)
~*~
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hedgehog-moss · 2 years
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(replying to this post)
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That’s a good example of the perils of domesticating translations! It seems obvious that if you try to adapt an ongoing series by changing a main character’s hometown so it’s more local, at some point you’re going to run into problems, like a whole book where they visit their hometown, which will need an in-depth rewrite so it stays coherent.
The France-French translations of Baby-Sitters Club were still set in the US, so the characters had names that were slightly domesticated so as not to frighten French children, but not so much that it wouldn’t make sense for these girls to be American—e.g. Mary Ann became Mary-Anne vs. Anne-Marie in Québec French, and Dawn and Stacey became Carla and Lucy, which still sounds American to a French kid, but not as unconscionably American as their original names. (Part of it is finding names that won’t be difficult to pronounce—but the Famous Five kids had easily-pronounced names like Julian and Dick, and they still ended up heavily Frenchified, into François and Michel. And the books were set in Brittany in the French translations, instead of England, even though French kids could have handled reading a story that was set five metres to the left.)
I remember feeling puzzled about Nancy Drew at one point, because she’s such a household name in anglo literature and I’d never ever heard of her, so I was like, we’ve translated every other popular anglo series, why have I never seen a Nancy Drew book in a French library? And then I discovered that Alice Roy from the “Alice” book series in French was, in fact, Nancy Drew. It blew my mind—Nancy Drew is Alice!! omg, I did know her this whole time. I read somewhere that the French translation re-named her because French kids would have no idea how to pronounce “Drew” and because they would be more likely to associate “Nancy” with the French city of the same name, so it wouldn’t feel anglo enough. So, amusingly, it was a mix of domesticating and foreignising. 
One type of domestication that’s regrettably popular in children’s literature is “temporal” domestication—when you re-translate older books to modernise the language and remove references that would “confuse” today’s kids (not talking about changing aspects of the books that wouldn’t fly with today’s sensibilities, that’s another discussion.) In revised editions of the Famous Five books in the UK, “shall / shan’t” were changed to “will / won’t”, dated words like “horrid” became “horrible”, “trunks” -> “suitcases”, etc. It’s a form of domesticating translation—from 1950s English to modern English. Personally I’m not a fan of it, because in a lot of instances, “modernising” prose for children is synonymous with pruning it and dumbing it down.
In French children’s literature spatial domesticating is losing steam while this kind of temporal domesticating is on the rise—we now feel like French kids can handle reading about an English boy named Julian who lives in England, rather than making the story about François in Brittany, but apparently kids can’t handle reading about a boy who lives in the 1950s and speaks accordingly. In recent re-translations of the Famous Five books they changed the passé simple conjugations to the less complex present, and the “nous” to “on” in the kids’ dialogue among other things, to make the text less formal, more modern—and simpler. The Spanish revised editions have examples of both trends—George calls her father “Padre” in the original translation and “Papá” in the modern one (temporal domesticating—the UK reprints do the same thing, changing “Father” to “Dad”); the kids having tea was initially translated as “tomar el té”, while the new translation changed it to “merendar” (spatial domesticating—and sure, it’s a similar enough concept, but it erases cultural differences. If you’re reading about English kids you can accept that they refer to their snack time as la hora del té rather than la merienda...)
Idk, I think kids who enjoy reading can handle books about fictional children that don’t live and talk just as they do; identifying with people who are quite different from you is part of the fun of reading. I remember reading as a kid the Comtesse de Ségur children’s books which were written under Napoléon III, and the 19th century language was a delightful aspect of them—the fact that little kids my age used imperfect subjunctive in casual conversation was hilarious to me. I was saying in my previous post that domesticating your translation too much evinces a lack of respect for your reader’s ability to handle unfamiliar concepts, and I think we should try to have a little more respect for children in that regard.
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rayroseu · 5 months
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HELP DEUCE JUST GOT FRENCHIFIED 🤣🤣🤣🤣 I really love the unique dynamics from this event lol
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🥲🥲🥲 This made me sob... No one really can understand them like they do with each other... 😭😭
Outsiders like Azul and Idia thinks theyre just overreacting but considering how Malleus, Silver and Sebek ONLY has each other as they grew up...
(Malleus and Silver being isolated because of their status and obviously Sebek wasnt that accepted by his own grandpa either...)
So Of course any type of peril happening between them —no matter how trivial— would cause them all to immediately worry😭✨ I love it I love how they always try to care for each other at all times.😭😭💖💖
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Yuu and Grim can relate XD
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No but seriously the gargoyle and Malleus meeting reminds me of Yuu and Malleus meeting lolol 🥺💞💕💞Maybe I'm just reaching.... 😂😂
but I remember a long comment that Malleus most especially notices with us because were similar to a gargoyle— avoided because we're strange and our efforts and "function"(as prefect) are barely recognized.
It also doesnt help that the gargoyle's language sounds like Grim lol 😂 Gargoyle says he lives for eons now and that he never left the tower bcs he's a stone.... so why he speaks such a modern form of language??😂😂 He's using more slang than Malleus who's trying to learn to socialize.... 😂
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Ohhh this part made me sad as well because We know in SSR Rollo's vignette that he was hating the gargoyles as he cleans them 😭😭😭😭
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I want this text pasted on my study incase I'm guving up on the grind lolol
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AAAAAAAHHHHHH HE SAID IT HE SAID IT‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE LINE WHERE THE GARGOYLES WAS ENCOURAGING QUASIMODO TO SAVE ESMERALDA BUT QUASIMODO WAS CONVINCED SHE DOESNT NEED HIM AJDJAJD 😭😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️
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On another note, I think the gargoyle DOES REMIND me of Lilia because of these last lines .....🥲🥲🥲🥲
"He runs on little magic so losing a little power is fatal for him" Lilia running out of magic 😭😭😭
"He was worried about him till the very end even though Hes the one responsible" I CANT KNOWING THAT LILIA *WILL* CONFRONT MALLEUS ABOUT HIS OVERBLOT...😭😭
I hope he'll be the one to understand him 🥲🥲💞💞💞
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niawritesbs · 1 year
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Time Off
TF 1-4-1 X POC Reader John Price, Kyle Garrick, John MacTavish, Simon Riley x Reader A break, they needed a break. Laswell knows they need the time off instead of worrying about Makarov and Shepard so that's what she gives them. Only, they don't have anyone to go home to that is, before one of their teammates invites them over.
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"Time off? So suddenly?" Seargent Soap voiced everyone's thoughts to Laswell. She had just updated them on the whereabouts of General Shepard and briefed them on what actions to take when the topic of Makarov came up when she brought up them taking some time off. It stunned them to silence when hearing her bring up the cold season and going home to whoever may be waiting and if not take some time to take care of themselves properly.
"Yes Seargent and that's not a request it's an order I like you all but I'm getting sick of seeing your faces so take the time off and enjoy yourselves. Dismissed." With that, she shooed them out of her office and they all stood outside the door wondering what the hell they'd do with this time off. Standing more off to the side than the others, Ghost looked over at you seeing you were the only one not in distress at the order.
"You don't seem to be in peril Seargent, you got plans when you head home?" It was a surprise hearing ghost ask you such a personal question. Although he has gotten comfortable with his team, it is rather odd of him to ask. The others got over their initial shock and looked over at you now suddenly curious as well. You let out a sigh before speaking.
"No, I don't, I'm heading home to an empty home just like the rest of you. If you guys are so struck by what to do then why not come with me for the break? It gives me a reason to use all the groceries that get replaced in my home every two months." In all honesty, you asked them not only to stop them from being lonely during their break but to also stop yourself from being lonely as well. Like them, there was no one waiting in your two-story home for you so why not spend the lonely days to come with people you've learned to call family?
You trust these four men with your life should that day come and they do as well. It would be a way to strengthen that already tight bond you all have together and it would give you a chance to boast about your impeccable cooking skills.
"Are you sure? This is your home we're talking about, you sure you want us to intrude like that?" Soap was a bit reluctant to the offer because while he was internally excited at it, the last thing he wanted to do was intrude. How cute.
With a nod of your head and some light reassurance, they all agreed to go and split up to get packed and meet up at 1400 (2:00 pm) to leave for the airport. Soon, you five were all set and on a plane to the state you lived in and on the road to your home.
Your home was two stories and quite modern, away from most of the town but close enough to get supplies when needed, and surprisingly once the owners who originally rented it to you passed, your rent was dropped by a lot and eventually sold to you completely.
Walking inside you took your shoes off and looked around the entrance hallway feeling so much nostalgia. The men behind you followed suit removing their shoes and following you inside your home staying suspiciously quiet. In reality, they were nervous being in your home, you had told them it had enough rooms and a pull-out bed for them all to sleep over but they were nervous nonetheless. You set your bag on the dining table before walking into the kitchen looking through the cabinets to see fresh groceries with a note from the carrier that they were recently restocked. You made a note to increase their pay at the start of the next year.
"You guys can get yourself settled in while I pull some things out for dinner. There's one room downstairs and three upstairs. I'll set up the pull-out bed for whoever claims that one but you can put your things in the two other rooms. " You were already pulling some things out of the fridge after washing your hands, while you were talking to them and when you finished you heard shuffling and small grunts of acknowledgment to your words as the four men did as told.
Gaz and Price chose the two rooms upstairs while Soap chose the couch bed leaving Ghost with the room downstairs. As they were settling in, they all took the time to look around but not pry too much. They saw that your home wasn't really what they expected. No pictures of friends or family, no personalization even when Price stepped into your room accidentally thinking it was the guest room. The only way he knew it was yours was the neatly folded underwear on your bed that seemed like it was gonna get packed but never made it. When he turned to leave he caught glimpse of a pocket-sized picture of you holding a newborn baby laying on the floor by the end of the bed. It's not something he would ever guess he would see especially if it was you. He closed the door and said nothing as he found the correct room and got himself settled in.
While you began cooking you took a break while things were heating up to put your things away in your own room.
"You guys should go shower while you're at it, it'll be a minute before I'm done cooking anyway so might as well, right?" And so the night went on.
You eventually finished your cooking and you along with the four ate. It was quiet and awkward but eventually, Soap popped a question and you soon fell into lively chatter, Ghost and soap falling into petty banter while Price entertained it and Gaz chuckled quietly to himself. You eventually pulled out some whiskey much to Ghost's dismay. "I drink Bourbon" He defensively said, though, you could see the amusement in his eyes. He had his Balaclava on but the black makeup was removed when he showered and he felt comfortable enough to show us that much. Not like you all hadn't seen his face before but the point is made.
When you all were done, Gaz being the sweetheart he was offered, no, told you he was going to clean up while you relaxed. "You've been on your feet since we came so I got it, go relax." You could feel your heart clench at his words.
Ever since you got recruited for 1-4-1, Gaz had been nothing but a sweetheart through and through, not to mention a heartthrob when he threw in his small compliments with a shy tone. Price wasn't as bad, but the captain wasn't shy when complimenting or downright flirting with you. It wasn't the overly obvious flirts nor did say it in front of people but, he was quite the charmer when he wanted to be.
Soap on the other hand didn't care who was around, if you did an amazing job on a particular mission or any mission at all, he would praise you till you told him to stop. He loves seeing the twinkle in your eyes or the pep in your step when you got praised for doing a good job. It made him feel good knowing you were happy from his words. Ghost wasn't one to be vocal, everyone in and out of the task force knew that. He wasn't one to just compliment and praise for any small thing but, when it came to you, he would find himself biting back the overwhelming feeling of pride he felt. Whenever you did something right even when you second-guessed yourself when you take out more than one person at a time. He finds himself grinning under his mask and petting your head lightly, chuckling to himself at the happy look you sprung onto your face at the act.
They all slowly began to love your reactions and you as a whole. They became protective even borderline possessive when Shepard ordered you to stay out of a mission while the others were told to go. "They are a part of this team, where we go, they go no questions asked about it, so if you want us to do this I suggest you make your changes from now." Stunned was General Shepard hearing Ghost speak up like that. You had only been on the team for a couple months so he didn't think they were gonna get attached so quickly, boy was he wrong.
Now here you all are, spread on the couches tipsy and happy, chuckling at Soap's slurred speaking not even understanding the lad as his accent gets heavier. Relaxed is a word none of you would associate yourselves with, especially in your line of work, but tonight? Warm, comfortable, and happy in each other's presence? I would say this is the most relaxed they've ever been.
With your head on Price's lap and your legs on Soap's, Ghost sitting on the floor near the couch, and Gaz on the single couch, they all stared at your resting face, dark skin glowing under the light of the fireplace lit rid the chill that came with the upcoming season. They watched in a comforting silence as you succumbed to sleep, pressing your cheek into the captain's thigh and mumbling a drunken goodnight. A fluttering feeling filled their chest, they didn't know what it was but all they knew was that if anything happened to you, it would be over for them.
A break. They all needed a break, even you.
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lovelykhaleesiii · 8 months
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Stranger Danger! [Entry #2]
HEADCANON
PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Modern AU]
WORDS: 1,578.
SUMMARY: Moving into a desolate, small-town suburb, you would think the risks of finding yourself in "peril" are close to none. And yet, how could you not have been more wrong...
WARNINGS: mentions of stalking behaviour, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, Daddy kink, breast-play, mentions of female oral receiving, mentions of male oral receiving, slight innocence kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, mentions of cock-warming/somnophilia, swearing.
A/N - okay so this looks like it'll be 3 (maybe 4 parts) LMAO. hope ya'll enjoy this little mini series xoxox
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Aegon remained honest to his word, dedicated to providing nourishment, security and tender-loving care: he adored you, regardless of your distant, icy outlook towards him.
Often reminiscing the sweet sound of your soft voice, your heart-warming smile, and gentle, fleeting touches.
Eventually, the warm, friendly presence you'd met initially, began to show and a part of you felt comforted by its recurring presence.
Occasionally, Aegon would force a kiss or an embrace, either having you laying your body against his mass, or laying his head in yours, it seemed he only sought for intimacy.
He openly disclosed his ventures and having witnessed that man who entered your home, trying to elaborate on the stranger's intentions and how he would never take advantage of you. It fuelled his own anger, sensing his frustration rise, you instinctively gripped his hand tightly, pleading with Aegon, that the man meant nothing, your feelings inept towards him.
"He could never amount to the man that you are, Aeg. Could never treat me as well as you do, I can see that now."
You could not deny with ease that his beauty remained entrancing and alluring. He did care about you and it showed. Whether it had only been a few days or months you could determine, yet in the endless hours that you had to yourself you contemplated this new reality.
Aegon never struck at you with rage, never caused intentional harm, nor did he intend to according to his remarks he'd often repeat. It was quite the opposite actually...
Mayhaps, he did truly love you.
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He slowly began to entrust you more so, granting you opportunities to join him atop in proper comfort. The house was modest and domesticated, occupied with furniture and accessories, it seemed habitable enough for you both, homily.
"You-You did this all for me, Aeg?"
Meekly nodding to your honest question, Aegon admitted that this house and everything with it, was all for you. Coming forth with his detailed idea of living a cosy life with you, the domesticity of coming home to you, being able to call you his wife, was all that he could envision when he first saw your face, engulfed him: his hopeful dreams eased the lingering fears in your mind and instead, cordially warmed your heart.
He bathed you softly, cooked for you, and even spoiled you with clothes and materialistic gifts of quality jewellery and pleasant fragrances. He treated you grander than most men you'd ever dated.
Aegon had even taken pride in how he presented himself to you. His hair always neatly combed back, his clothes fitted and properly buttoned and tucked. The house was always spotless, when given the chance to see.
You felt yourself slowly easing into the comfort of Aegon's romantic gestures. Engaging with his invitations, you found yourself inclined, insisting on helping him with the cooking, finding delight in hand feeding him yourself, as you begged to sit on Daddy's lap, rubbing at his distended stomach once he was full and glut of delectable meals.
You had convinced yourself that the next step would be intimacy, and that Aegon was patient enough to wait for your approval. You made your attempt to woo Aegon into allowing you to sleep with him in bed, desperate to get out of the dingy basement also.
"It gets so cold and lonely down there, Daddy. Leaving me all on my lonesome, when I would much prefer you to keep me all warm... Please, Daddy Aeg."
It did not take long for Aegon to crack, caving in to your desires without hesitation as his lilac orbs softened at your tame frame.
Holding your hand firmly in his as he guided you upstairs into the master bedroom, it was just as homely and coordinated with the furnishing of the rest of the house.
Crawling atop the bed, your hand still gripping at Aegon's he watched you intently, as you guided one hand beneath your shirt, guiding him to cup at your tender, plump breast. The other, however, ed beneath your skirt, placing his palm across your bare, moist cunt, causing his breath to hitch with utter excitement.
"See what you've done to me, how you make me feel... Daddy needs to fill me up so I can make him proud. Let me make you proud."
Aegon remained silently transfixed onto you solely: the subtle widening look of his eye however, you doubted he had expected this from you, though did not resist to pursue.
"Is Daddy proud of me? Was I a good, good girl?"
"The best girl... My sweet angel."
From that night onwards, Aegon granted you the opportunity to lay with him, soon enough you found yourselves sating each other beyond pleasure, reaching a mutual climax.
Aegon was of a substantial size, boy, girthy and thick, its length not grand though that just above average, it was enough to make you senseless beyond awareness. Painful from the first moment he buried his cock deep inside, your wet walls stretched obediently and desperately, attempting to accommodate for him.
Often you swore you could feel something moving deep within the low pit of your stomach, an evident bulge from within, as he'd ferociously hit and strike at your cervix, an invigoratingly agonising sensation coursing through your body like lightening.
Aegon often enjoyed cockwarming you whenever possible, especially during the nights. The tense and close feeling of your body pressed against his, like a vacuum. Your proximity secured to him, himself attached inside, as your walls naturally clenched around his cock. The act itself provided him a sense of security and relief, that you were there, beside him at all times.
He also relished in the idea of impregnating you: the fact that your seed with his, potent and healthy enough to procreate, to create a family of his own. He yearned for an entire litter: children at your hips, and your belly swollen with more. The mental image burnt into his mind, of you as the mother of his children, the joy it brought him.
Nonetheless, he was discretely intent that you were bound to take him soon enough: in the mean time, you would weep from the deed as pleasurable as it was, pain of his throbbing cock pulsating against your expansed walls. He would tend to you almost out of instinct.
You often also found Aegon atop of you, fucking you as you were asleep, only to wake to his larger figure on top, slow, sensual motions of thrusting himself inside. Occasionally it was his moans and grunts that roused you awake, his hot breath against your skin, he would attempt to lull you back to sleep as he carried on.
"Shh-Shh- My sweet thing, you are tired. Go back to sleep, you need to rest for tomorrow... Daddy's taking care of you, okay? Let Daddy do all the work now, Princess."
Aegon took great pride in his aftercare with you: often running a bath, cleaning you himself, changing the linen, and soothing you till you fell sound asleep, regaining your strength for the next.
During your intimacy with Aegon, he often always initiated and demanded that you ride him from atop, straddling his thighs the feeling of your bare, soaking cunt against his meaty thigh, the skin on skin friction beginning to burn.
He often proclaimed at how mesmerising your tits were, biting and massaging at them. In his after care, he cherished the moments of lathering lotion/oil onto your naked body strewed with fresh, red marks from hickeys to bite marks that he'd caused. Massaging into your skin, as he kissed at each unpleasant sore.
The way your tits would naturally bounce in haste, swaying motions as you rode from atop.
Depending on his mood for the day [if his family tried to intervene and enquire of his whereabouts, distracting him of this new-found life with you]: IF he felt generous enough, he'd often engage in devouring your pussy with his bare mouth driven by his unsettling appetite: his tongue eagerly encircling and lapping at your wetness as he held your legs widely apart, finding him breathless and fervently licking his lips of your copious ooze, pleased with himself.
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One time, he'd felt so much content in seeing you attend to chores as he watched from a modest distance, seeing you play your part so effortlessly as his obedient housewife, that he spoiled you with a solid session of pussy eating, plopping you atop the kitchen counter, having his way at his "entree" he described.
However, on the off days that he'd felt downcast and hostile [mostly post confrontations with his family, returning home seething with anger], he'd demand of you to suck his cock regardless of the house, eager for a release of the tension. The notion of having you adhere and fulfil his every demand, in addition to the physical sensation of the satisfaction earned, was validating enough for Aegon.
He sought and craved validation.
Whether he wished to admit it or not, he desperately sought to vindicate himself as the only man worthy of you. The man his family dreamt of him to be, and the man he knew he could be, and the man he could offer you to be. It was all a mental fight within himself, and you sympathetically yearned for him in that sense.
Aegon only ever wanted to prove himself, and you were the grand prize for his ambitious drive.
general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider
Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit
credit to - @saradika for the headers 🤍
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fictionadventurer · 4 months
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Little House in the Big Woods is a masterful depiction of the simple joys and mindset of very early childhood. Which, oddly enough, makes the book work better for me as an adult than as a child. As a kid, I saw this as one of the lesser books--there are some fun moments and interesting stories, but nothing really happens. As an adult, that's one of the main draws--nothing happens! Laura gets to see the frost on the windows and play with her cousins and get Christmas presents and look at the pictures in the animal book and play house and nothing goes wrong. It brings back those innocent, simple joys of very early childhood in a way that's much more welcome now that I'm much further away from it.
With an adult's perspective, it's also easier to catch more details about the wider world surrounding that little cabin in the Big Woods. The family ties binding together the adults. The historical context of the 1860s. You catch the fact that they're choosing to live like this--the rest of the world is pretty advanced, but they're living on the very edges of civilization where you have to do things for yourself in a way few other people do.
As a kid, I just saw the historical moment as "pioneer times where they live like this because they haven't invented technology." As an adult, I know that there's a ton of technology already being invented at a faster rate than ever before, and even here on the fringes of society, it's got a huge effect on how they settle the area. They buy machine-made traps to catch animals for a huge fur industry (at least, I don't see a local blacksmith making these). They use a complicated threshing machine. They buy machine-made cloth and cane sugar and have little store-made knickknacks. Their way of life is pretty heavily dependent on a world where railroads and steamships can rapidly transport goods around the world, which is a huge reason that life changed so quickly during Laura's lifetime--the world was already pretty modern, and just had to get out to where she was. It's a perspective that added a lot of depth to my view of the setting.
The book's also better from an adult viewpoint because it's not just the story of early childhood, but it's a woman in her 60s looking back at her early childhood--nostalgic for it in the way a lot of adults are nostalgic for a time when the world seemed simpler and safer--which makes the perspective oddly relatable.
I can still see why it's less exciting than the other books--even apart from the lack of deadly perils, Laura's extremely young age means she's not an active protagonist. She's just watching life while other people go off and do things. Most of the events are things we hear about--Pa telling stories of his childhood or of what he's done during the day. Laura doesn't, for instance, go out to the bee tree--she sees Pa get the wagon and then come back and tell her about it. Even this simple event is something that Laura's not actively watching, which makes her perspective feel a bit disconnected from the world.
But for all the story's flaws and virtues, the very best part of the book is how much love goes into it. Laura is writing this out of love for the family that gave her such a childhood. She'll pause to note Pa's laugh, or talk about how pretty Ma was while making hominy. She loves the landscape, delighting in the details of every season. She loves the daily tasks of farm life. She's not just detailing things like cheese-making or churning because these skills are dying out, but because she's lived her life on a farm and takes genuine joy in the details that go into completing all these tasks. She loved farming so much that she spent years writing a column about farming life, and that absolutely comes out here.
Then, at the very end, we have a line that's my contender for one of the best last lines in all of literature. Laura's watching her family and the firelight as Pa plays his fiddle in the cozy little house, singing about remembering the days of long ago. And this sixty-some-year-old woman, looking back at her childhood, bringing back a vanished world for the children of today, ends with a paragraph that perfectly sums up the bittersweet truths of the story--that childhood thinks it will last forever, that time will pass in the blink of an eye, and that memory and storytelling can, in their imperfect way, make the past immortal.
She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
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dailymanners · 20 days
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Hello, Stranger. By Will Buckingham. Granta; 336 pages; £16.99 The Power of Strangers. By Joe Keohane. Random House; 352 pages; $28. Viking; £16.99 Fractured. By Jon Yates. Harper North; 348 pages; $28.99 and £20
ATTITUDES TO STRANGERS tend to follow a familiar pattern. Children are taught never to speak to unknown grown-ups, especially those regarded by their parents as untrustworthy. The onset of adolescence and young adulthood brings a bursting desire to interact with all sorts of people, particularly the kind who might not elicit family approval. Whether the resulting encounters are sexual or social, they confer a thrilling frisson of escape.
Social circles generally narrow again as people find life-partners, form households and produce offspring of their own. Time becomes scarce; new friendships are often based on sharing the burden of child care. Some people never recover the youthful zest for unforeseen liaisons. Professional duties swell even as parental ones diminish, and the inclination sags. In old age, even if curiosity and charisma remain undimmed, frailty makes new serendipitous connections harder to establish.
But that is not the whole story. In mid-life and beyond people can still experience the joy of a random meeting, however short, which somehow touches a nerve. That might involve nothing more than a smile, or a chance remark that hits an emotional spot; or it might be an unexpectedly deep conversation on a plane or train, a surge of mutual understanding that is life-affirming even if the interlocutor is never seen again. This aspect of the promise and peril of strangers has enticed storytellers—from the rapture of “Brief Encounter” and “Before Sunrise” to the ruin of “Strangers on a Train”. The knowledge that the exchange will be a one-off can permit a delicious, uninhibited frankness.
In the age of covid-19 and Zoom, the chronological pattern has been warped. Instead of their hazy possibilities and risks, strangers have assumed an all-too-literal role as a looming source of infection. During lockdowns they are officially to be avoided. Yet youngsters still long, dangerously, for the ecstasy of communion, not just with edgy individuals but anonymous crowds. People of all ages have come to miss the human stimulation of busy high streets or trains, or the comforting sense of fellowship in a cinema or theatre audience.
So this is an apt moment for three books about meeting strangers. Will Buckingham has written a moving memoir of finding solace, after the death of his life-partner, in travelling and talking in lands such as Myanmar that are culturally distant from his native England. Joe Keohane, an American journalist, argues that communicating empathetically with strangers is vital and potentially life-changing. Jon Yates, who runs a youth charity based in London, frets that deep fissures in Western societies are making it impossible for people to reach, even casually, between classes, religions, ethnicities and generations.
All three authors make sweeping generalisations about the evolution of human society, from hunter-gatherers to the age of Homer and beyond. But they are more interesting when they reflect, using personal experience or scientific research, on how people live and communicate now. In different ways, they all make two separate but related points. First, interacting meaningfully with a new person can bring huge rewards—but it is a skill that must be cultivated and can easily be lost. Second, the self-segregation of modern Western societies means that, for many people, conversing with some fellow citizens seems pointless, undesirable or outlandish. The second problem exacerbates the first: if you consider others beyond the pale, why make the effort to get to know them?
. . .
Mr Buckingham focuses on the pleasures and pitfalls of encounters in remote places where the stakes are lower because the acquaintanceships are bound to be temporary—in a holiday flat-share in Helsinki or while travelling through the Balkans. But, like the other two, he notes that wariness of unfamiliar people is neither new nor insuperable.
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Mr Keohane and Mr Yates offer tips on befriending strangers. . . Mr Yates discusses the case for a kind of national social service that would encourage youngsters to mix with other groups and generations. Both have homely micro-solutions that readers can apply in daily relations—assume the best of others, remember that most have stories they are longing to tell, react philosophically when a friendly approach is rebuffed.
A telling point that none of the books captures is a paradoxical one: some of the most sophisticated forms of interaction between strangers occur in societies that are chronically divided. Think, for example, of rural Northern Ireland, or of parts of the former Ottoman Empire, such as Lebanon, where residents have lived in separate communal silos. In ways impenetrable to outsiders, the denizens of such places develop perfect antennae for the affiliation of a stranger and adjust their remarks accordingly. The ensuing exchanges occur within well-understood parameters—including a sense that social categories are resilient and pleasantries will not change them. But tact allows people from antagonistic camps to have amicable encounters and transactions.
All three authors are inclined to overstate the ability of brief interactions to stave off conflict. Yet at least this much is true: a capacity to engage with new people in civilised, humane and meaningful ways is a necessary condition for social peace, even if it is not a sufficient one. That points up a half-hidden cost of covid-19. Children educated on screen; teenagers bouncing off the walls; adults working at home; lonely pensioners: more or less everyone’s social skills have been atrophying, with consequences not only for individuals but, perhaps, for the fabric of society.
As lockdowns lift, people are now stumbling back into a world of accidental collisions, some eagerly, some queasily, most with an odd sensation of novelty after a year of hibernation. The lesson of these books is that the easing of restrictions is not just a coveted opportunity to reconnect with those you love and resemble. It also restores a freedom, long taken for granted even if little used, to come to know the profoundly different. ■
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michi-tala · 7 months
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Evening, I hope all is going well with you and the family! My ask might be a bit chunky so I apologize. For Aizawa, D, and Alucard/Vladcard/Vlad: How would our dear men react to waking up from a nap or just from a moment of respite...to their darling s/o that's overall shy with physical gestures, braiding a lock of their hair? Perhaps they even add some small flowers or a ribbon to make it more personal? Thanks so much for your time and wonderful writing!
Simple Gesture of Braiding Their Hair
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🫠Thank you! It's great to hear how much you like my writing! I always say I have the best readers and followers who ask great questions. Not sure how good this will be though. My hands are constantly gesturing as I talk along with physical facial gestures.
As for in Japan I would be considered highly rude because I am so animated☹️
📍Now for this ask, I have included the other ask questions that the topic is hair. D's hair being brushed ask is included. Let's begin shall we with Aizawa as you listed him first?
📝•Shouta Aizawa
•For Shouta, touching his hair always relaxes him and the overly tired U.A. High School teacher falls asleep when you play with his hair.
•His respite is on the couch watching something you both enjoy. He moans from how relaxed his body gets. Braiding his hair is also very intimate without a sexual element.
•Sometimes Shouta will reminisce about special couple moments from your shared past with him. His fingers occasionally rubbing gently to your forearm or thigh. Maybe small circles as if a cat was kneading its owner's arm, as a return gesture.
•Often now Aizawa is seen with a braid in his hair or all of it braided. It has colored hair ties or even once you had him looking like a modern pirate with a ribbon holding the braid in. Hizashi was about to make a loud joke the first time when he got the death stare reserved for his students only.
•Shouta knows that you are shy with physical gestures and appreciates whatever you can offer. He knows you love him..
📍
⚜️•Vampire Hunter D
•Sadly I don't remember exactly how many hours he needs. Stick in my mind 3-4 hours and it doesn't matter at night or day.
Very special Dhampir indeed..
•I can see him on a full moon, stretched out and his head resting on your lap. You braid his hair with moon flowers that only bloom at night.
Daytime it would be a short cat nap of sorts..
•Blue or gray ribbon is the first choice but red is good too. He doesn't take the braids either until you rebraid them. Something about vampires is that they don't need to brush their hair(?)
(Look at Vladcard! It should be constantly snarled up🤔)
•There would be three positions: arms spread out, arms and those delicious long legs crossed, finally resting arms over the head next to your legs.
•D is also not one to use many physical gestures. His aura alone does that but he does have a sense of humor and boy does it catch humans off guard.
•This simple gesture helps his inner battle with being human and Sacred Ancestor’s only success.
📍
♟️•Voivode Vladcard (breathing)
•Vlad himself would be shrouded with his physical gestures too. Having lived with the enemy as a boy-teenager, physical gestures can help be misleading or put you in peril. As an adult now and Viovode trying to do what's best for his nation, showing such gestures would possibly put you in extreme danger.
•When in private quarters or out in the countryside and when he lets out deep, relaxed sighs, you know his gestures are now shown as the truth and what you mean to him.
•Romania (Wallachia) has beautiful fields of wildflowers. So a picnic among the flowers, with the warm sun to relax in. Vlad's one and only time he feels comfortable laying vulnerable on his stomach.
His dark hair draped across his scarred back…
•Your fingers wiggle subconsciously at the view of him. So you begin to just run your fingers through his hair. Next is loose braids in which the curl to his hair keeps them in.
His soft relaxed breaths, as you weave his homeland flowers in his thick hair..
📍
🍷•Alucard @Hellsing
•You two are watching a movie on the couch, well you on the couch that is. His arms drape over your legs, his head tipped back and resting on your lap. The rest of the undead cat is sprawled on the floor in front of you. His eyes are closed with a genuine smile of pleasure on his pale lips.
A low rumble of a vampiric purr..
•Your fingers gently braiding a strand of long ebony dark hair. Though the moment you stop braiding his hair, it lifts up gently to grasp your wrist. You think you get to stop just yet?
Oh no dragostea mea/meu…
⚜️•Ask: D hair brushed
Hello, I like your headcanons. May I ask you how could D react to his s/o washing/brushing his hair?
I am glad you are enjoying them! And I love the fact that D is the part of most asks now. The only reason I feel comfortable writing about D is I have read most of the books written about him. (I am four behind the current release).
So, how does D react to having his hair washed and/or brushed..
It was probably after a long pushed bout of Sunlight Syndrome as D needs to bury himself in the very earth he walks on. He rarely gets it like other Dhampir/Dhampirica but does and usually at the most terrible time. Left is happier now that you are around to help get him to ‘ground’ and stay there.
It probably started with brushing his hair while in a haze from the sickness. He was able to heal quicker from your mere human touch and most like their hair brushed or at least played with.
Then washing his hair probably resulted from a battle in extreme amounts of mud or once more Sunlight Syndrome in a flooded area. His shoulders go tense but then a soft sigh leaves his pale lips. D would never seem hostile to something you would try to do for him. Sacred Ancestor’s son is extremely polite unlike Hellsing’s Alucard.
Your fingers running through his hair like a comb to remove tangles the first time. The second time you find a hair brush and comb in his pack on the cyberhorse. Your added touch is a Noble device you found in some Noble laboratory ruins, that carries water in a compact version and perhaps warms it before use.
“Y/n…you are most appreciated as it makes traveling this lonely world more enjoyable..” he softly tells you after washing and then brushing his hair.
@amikartest @artsy-jandi @xhunniebunx @three-of-crows @stygianoir
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carys-the-ninth · 10 months
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do you have any books recs that are similar to gideon the ninth? sorry if you've already posted about this lol
Beloved, thank you for asking: no I do not. Sincerely, I think we all have to accept that Gideon the Ninth is one of a kind and we are not going to find other books like it. (At least for the time being.) Also, this is a difficult question to ask because people appreciate very different elements in GtN, and I may completely miss the mark.
Here's the best I can do: some books I like, which I think other Locked Tomb enjoyers may like. The main inclusion criterion is "weird."
The short stories, webcomic & novella of Tamsyn Muir (I love recurring themes & motifs)
Piranesi by Suzanna Clarke (beautiful writing, incredible rush when the pieces start making sense)
The short stories of James Tiptree Jr, pseudonym of Alice B Sheldon (fucked up feminist scifi from the 70s)
Other sci-fi (which I would also recommend to almost anyone): Mary Doria Russell's Sparrow duology; Ann Leckie's Imperial Radch series; Ursula K LeGuin's Hainish cycle; Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower
The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells (This & the following are the only ones on this list I'd recommend if 'funny' is the primary trait you want)
Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett (I love all of Pratchett, but this is the particular book I'd point TLT fans to)
The short stories of Isabel J Kim (modern scifi/specfic)
Bunny by Mona Awad (girlcult academia with a turn towards the surreal & bloody)
The Dangers of Smoking in Bed by Mariana Enriquez; Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century by Kim Fu (horror/surreal/magical realism short story collections, check the tws)
Grendel by John Gardner; My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris (unfinished graphic novel series); Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow (monster books)
Honorable mention to Lina Rather's Our Lady of Endless Worlds novellas. Nuns in space navigating the perils of empire and charity (with a sapphic subplot!). These don't rank quite high enough to be on the list proper, but they're so competently constructed & the particular content is relevant enough that I have to include them.
You'll note there's an abundance of women here but perhaps a paucity of lesbians. We are lucky enough to live in a time in which a list of "sapphic SFF" can have dozens of entries from the past few years. I have not read as extensively in that space as I might, but thus far nothing has recommended itself to me above & beyond other modern SFF. Admittedly, my tastes skew pretty heavily towards literary fiction (as this list probably makes obvious). If you want more strictly SFF recs, I'm probably not be the one to ask.
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gnossienne · 1 year
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Which Succession Character Are You?
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agentnatesewell · 3 months
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tremendous tasks, dear friends
the wayhaven chronicles | barbara robertson (f!detective) / nate sewell / mason + family (lucas daniels) | 5k words | rated G
happy holidays to @delucadarling on this twelfth night and epiphany eve! i have simply fallen in love with barbie and had such a wonderful time writing for her for the @wayhavensecretsanta
.🎄.
Within the forested woods surrounding a deceptively inconspicuous town, one brimming with holiday cheer and festive wishes, bustling with last-minute preparations of a yuletide celebration for humans and supernaturals alike, sits a dilapidated building. A relic of a time ago, thought abandoned and unbothered, hiding a veiled mansion beyond its crumbling facade. 
In this warehouse, now as familiar as home, Barbara Robertson - detective or agent depending on when and who one asks - sits in the center of the living room elegantly dressed for the season. One last task, a final check-in, for the next day’s Wayhaven Christmas Fete remains, and her trusted Filofax is set securely nearby, traded for a cup of steaming, glasses-fogging drinking chocolate. Hands warming against the gold rimmed and whimsically painted precious porcelain, she shifts her attention from event planning to listening, intently, of past traditions once forgone and now renewed. 
In this living room, now his home, Nathaniel Sewell - agent and acting commanding agent, a temporary promotion until their team leader returns from a self assigned important mission - sits adjacent, on the floor with long legs tucked beneath him; sweeping his hand over carefully laid materials, collected from the nature surrounding them, on the ivory lace-embroidered cloth covered coffee table. He picks out a hard confection from a glass jar in the middle of the table, passes it to her then reminisces, “My earlier days, when I was with my family, during the Advent period before Christmas Day, my brother and I would spend the morning hours collecting what we could on our grounds. Not dissimilar to what we’ve found on our strolls in town and the community garden this autumn.” 
Long branches of holly from the gardens, deepest green leaves with sharp, curved edges, clusters of bright, reddest berries; vines of ivy growing along on the outer stone of their home, long stems dense with lined green and white leaves; hardy sprigs of rosemary from their kitchen window garden, fragrant and robust; precious bundles of mistletoe, from the town’s nursery, with pretty pearlescent white berries; and perhaps his most prized possession of the season, from a bespoke shoppe, a singular pear sitting on a bed of gold foil. 
“Are you making a wreath,” she inquires, leaning closer to the greenery. Fingers already occupied with proffered candy instinctively seek her pencil, and blindly slide behind her ear, in case there is need to write any pertinent information of this tradition. As she inspects, Barbie notices there isn’t any sort of evergreen present that she’d become accustomed to with modern wreaths, though perhaps Nate had used all he could find to festoon along the fireplace mantle, perhaps all the evergreen in Wayhaven and the surrounding forest. 
“A Christmas Bough.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, voice trailing and he falls into a fog of nostalgia, happy memories returning to overshadow those which usually haunt him. As his thoughts fade, Nate chances a glance at Barbie, and he is pulled back into the present. For behind a curling strand of her blond hair, fallen away from her gilded claw clip, peeks a twist of red and white, and the scent of peppermint. The pencil which is usually there in her hand, in peril of becoming her drink stirrer. 
“Barbie?” 
“Nate?” The abrupt change in his tone, now alarmed, draws Barbie away from her study. She looks up towards him, green eyes peering over her red plaid-rimmed glasses, taking note at how amusement highlights the honeyed hues of his brown eyes, and how he’s closing the already narrow gap between them, brows raised questioningly and silently awaiting permission to come closer.  
And it is easy for her to grant him such permission, as Nate is always so careful, comforting, safe, even in this spontaneity, and Barbie is quite curious what it is that has attracted his attention. 
The brush of his thumb across her cheek, his fingers curling at her temple and over the shell of her ear prove far more exhilarating than any spice and sugar rush incurred during the holiday season. Nate chuckles, deep and resonating, just as silver bells sing, and he pulls away, his palm open. “You might find that peppermint candy complements the dark chocolate of your beverage far more than your pencil might.” 
“What,” Barbie looks at her cup, pencil between the rim and its high handle, and groans. “Oh my god.” Shaking her head, she drops the utensil with a sharp laugh. “Guess I needed this break. Helping Tina organize the Fete  at the station this year is keeping me busier than I imagined. Especially with all of,” she waves her hand, “this.”
Nate knows she is referencing her continued training with the Agency and on-call, standby assistance for the Wayhaven Police Department’s local cases - taking a holiday encouraged, always, during their sporadic diners at the local bistro - but does hope she has been enjoying the past week spent transforming their, in his opinion, humble home into a Christmas wonderland so expertly designed, it would rival the most elegant department store displays. And though Adam and, by order, Unit Bravo, had been convinced by Nate’s suggestion of team building exercises, Barbie has been enjoying herself. Excitement casting her in gold and silver radiance, she is even more breathtaking, indulging herself in the season. Dressed in themed ensembles, time made and spent introducing Farah to popcorn tins and Christmas themed movies, baking and icing so many cookies, decorating while singing tunes so delightful, he has been humming them both in tandem and alone. 
Regardless, Barbie deserves empathy and understanding, and a second candy cane. “May I say that the Fete has been coming along quite nicely, and will surely be memorable for years to come.” 
“You may,” she accepts his compliment, allowing her fingers, nails painted to resemble ribbon tied gift wrap, to just barely glide along his as she accepts the candy. To avoid a repeat of a near miss, Barbie stirs her drinking chocolate with the straight side of the candied stick, inhaling the melding scents as the steam rises and evaporates into the air. “Thank you, Nate.” 
Pleasant moment aside, and desperately needing the embarrassing moment aside, Barbie points the candy cane, melting end, at the table. “Tell me about your Christmas Bough. I thought it was called a Kissing Bough?” 
Nate nods. “You’re correct. Formally, these were called Christmas Boughs, and traditionally, Kissing Boughs. Every year, from when we could carry in ash wood or willow wood branches, our bough would adorn the doorway to our drawing room, welcoming our guests for the many parties held during the twelve days post Christmas. Usually family, many cousins, family friends.” 
Barbie places her cup on the table, resting her elbow on the edge, listening intently once more. The cadence of his voice again melodic, a nostalgic recitation in celebration of a life passed instead of a sorrow of a life lost. 
“One modern convenience this year.” Nate points to a neat stack of green craft wire, set opposite of the shining pear. “Bending curved tree branches into circles is much easier these days, but I would like to focus more on this particular foliage” 
“Do they hold any meaning?” She asks, knowing too well that rarely does Nate take on a task casually. 
“Holly,” Nate works as he speaks, nimble hands still familiar with the process from centuries ago, tying the branches together with the wire, a blur of green and red repeating until creating a circle. “Everlasting life.”
The irony is not lost on Barbie. By how Nate blinks his eyes, an attempt to keep them clear, she knows it’s not lost on him, either. But then he clears his throat, shapes his mouth back into a smile, and transfers the rest of the holly branches and half of the wire to the space in front of her. An offer to join him, and she obliges; observing and enamored by his hands, mirroring his motions to create a second circle. 
“Ivy,” Nate continues, “dependence and endurance. Rosemary, remembrance.” Running the tip of a finger along the leaves, breathing in the released fragrance, he takes a deep breath. Another breath. 
As silence grows, the bough making process is acknowledged as a memorial by them both. When her half is complete and returned to him, Barbie lays a hand on Nate’s shoulder. Immediately, she feels him relax, and this time the deep breath is an exhalation. When he turns to her, his smile is genuine, grateful for her grace. “Thank you. My apologies, for my sentimentality.” 
“What about the mistletoe?” She squeezes his shoulder, and hopes the question cheers him up. 
“Ah, mistletoe.” Nate lifts a bundle for himself, a second one for Barbie. She keeps it for herself. “A good luck charm. One could, during the celebratory period, greet their guests or each other for a kiss. A suitor could kiss the one they wished to court, on the cheek, and we did make sure all parties were in accordance. All would hope to be kissed, lest they endure the bad luck of being left out. There was a limit, as with every kiss, a berry would be picked. When all was gone, the kissing ceased.” He chuckles, picking a single spray which had fallen out of place. “Milton’s pockets would be full by night’s end, as he was rather outgoing and effortlessly charming.”
Barbie plucks a gem-like berry to roll between her fingers, twisting her lips as her gaze shifts towards Nate, finding he has done the same. It comes as a surprise to them both, a happy and quite welcome surprise, when Barbie closes the space between, kissing Nate’s cheek. Drawing away, she puts the berry in his palm. “There, now you have one, too.” 
Behind a second, cordial-ish, exchange, through the doorway of this living room which has yet to bear the meaningful ornament of greeting, shaking bruising snowflakes off the jacket he’s worn during his overnight patrol of the town - stubborn to accept the order to dress weather-appropriately from their temporary leader, until an approving hum from Barbie, he will keep to himself that he did not mind the shearling-lined leather moto jacket that kept him from freezing - Mason grimaces at the warm welcome of glittering ornaments, the droning and inescapable music repeating too many damn times, and the strong and tangled scents of cassis, eucalyptus, white musk, and pine. 
Thick blankets of snow keep him from his reprieve on the rooftop, and if it was any other season besides one that compels humans to decorate their homes with garish and gaudy blinking lights, corral them into the streets to sing in groups, he would volunteer to take the next patrol. But it isn’t wholly terrible, though. In the living room he can wait for Barbie to tie up any loose-ends, as she’d called them, with her next-day festival preparation; maybe Nate will help her, and Mason can retreat to the quietest and dimmest corner of the room to look out the window and watch the hidden parts of the forest, untouched by merry well-wishers. 
Her voice cuts through his annoyance, happier he knows but unsure how to tell. She sounds like she did the other day as he watched her hang monogrammed stockings over the fireplace, Nate explaining some change, some rise and fall in her sound, more cheerful. When he hears Barbie laugh, the tension in his body fades, and the abrasive reminders of the season taunting his senses fall into the background. Mason sheds his coat, rubbing his hands over his arms to avoid losing too much heat too fast, and follows a conversation to the middle of the room, in front of the couch and on the floor.  
Too far to perch on the arm of the velvet armchair, where he’s most comfortable when Barbie is around, he instead sits on the edge of the coffee table, angling away from the herbs and plants invading his senses. Any other time the seemingly innocuous rosemary would have him retreating, but she turns to him. And Barbie is fucking - glowing. Mason blinks, wondering if his retinas are taking longer to heal from the morning’s snow glare than usual. Still glowing with a pink tint to her cheeks, and damnit if that halo around her doesn’t make him think of that angel on top of their second Christmas tree, and damnit that he’s lost the cool edge to his entrance. 
“Elf got your tongue, sunshine?” Barbie asks, smoothest he’s ever seen her, at least with a candy cane between her teeth. 
In his periphery, Mason spots a small bundle of leaves and the plant is easily identifiable. Cheap, plastic replicas in abundance at the previous night’s party in some sort of garden dome when he’d walked through the park on his route. He swipes a sprig and twirls it, answering, “Wouldn’t mind you catching my ton-”
“Hello, Mason,” Nate sighs, tying what is left of the mistletoe together. “How was your patrol?”
Giggling teenagers and metal scraping at the ice rink and the entire town smells of vanilla, chocolate and sugar, that flashing robotic Santa waving in the air are all enough to keep anything interesting from happening; too chaotic to focus any magic, too much of a headache to get up to any trouble. Mason shrugs, “Same old.” 
Settled, finally giving notice to whatever Nate and Barbie are actually doing, Mason juts his chin in the direction of the circles of holly. “You aren’t done decorating this place yet?” 
“It’s a Kissing bough,” Barbie explains, rising to her knees to meet Mason. Nate subtly coughs the alternative ‘Christmas bough’, likely as a means to keep the atmosphere light and less hot, less heavy - wholesome! “When you’re under, you give a kiss, and get a reward.” She leans in, one hand on his thigh and he grins, arm slinking around her waist, ready for a knock-her-tights-off kind of kiss. But instead of her mouth, his is met with a waxy, tasteless and not sticky clump of berries. “It’s not up yet, Mason.” Smiling, having amused herself, she sits at the coffee table once more, awaiting Nate’s next instruction. 
“You’re welcome to join us, if you would like to thread this wire through the pear.” Nate knows he is pushing Mason’s good will and willingness to participate in any more decorating, yet persists with his inclusion. “This should be our final project.” 
“Wait! One more!” 
From a flash of purple and a cloud of glitzing gingerbread scents and mirth, attention is captured towards the fir and cedar garlanded mantle in this living room, and standing between a cozy, crackling fire and the main Christmas tree, eight feet all and so elegantly adorned, skirt at the base holding exquisitely wrapped gifts, is Farah Hauville - home from one last visit to the Christmas Tree Lot at the edge of town for the season before taking over agent patrol for the rest of the day - standing atilt, resting an elbow on the top branch of a small, a quite small pine tree. 
Amber eyes sparkling with triumph, Farah sweeps her hand out in an arc, resting it on her hip. “Ta da! What do you all think? Natey, Barbie? Mason.” 
Not just quite small, the tree is rather sparse. Uneven weight distribution, inconsistent branch thickness and needle distribution - some thick with vibrant needles while others rather pale and almost white, some with just tufts at the end. A lone pinecone sits towards the base, and there may have been a debate if the bird’s nest fell or broke apart. 
Nate stands, stepping slowly and surely to the tree, mind whirling as he thinks of how to express his thoughts; keep Farah from being crestfallen, express his gratitude for her enthusiasm, how to hide the tree in plain sight and preferably outside. “Certainly a unique tree,” he manages, “though, I do wonder if it would be better suited in the hallway. Could be set in an urn outside of your bedroom door and we can bedeck after your shift - wrap a strand of fairy lights, drape tinsel, use the rest of the ribbon.”
“Knew you’d say that,” Farah replies, bouncing, “This tree has been in that lot since it opened, and no one has given it a chance! A second look! I know it’s not pretty, it doesn’t match the other trees we brought home. It’s not perfect,” Farah flails her arms, pointing to the three other trees in the room that could have been portraits in a magazine. “But it deserves love, doesn’t it? Like the great philosopher, Linus, said.” 
“Linus? I’m not familiar with their work.” Nate pokes at a dull needle with this index finger. “Unless you mean Linus of Thrace, the musician.”
Barbie soon joins, shadowed by Mason, and circles the tree to study it. “‘Charlie Brown Christmas’. Farah and I watched while you read ‘The Gift of the Magi’.”  
“You were even playing the song the next day,” Farah remarks, miming him at the piano. He nods in response, fingertips brushing along the edge of a healthier branch. She continues her plea, turning to throw her arms out, wide and dramatic, and quotes, “‘I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all. Maybe it just needs a little love.’”
“Farah,” Nate rubs the back of his neck, knowing she’d likely practiced her speech during her last few patrols about town. The tree truly does not fit in with the well planned out, specific aesthetic of the room but he is moved by her effort, her passion. “I can promise to find space for it. In here.” 
To the great shock of everyone, Mason grabs a smooth, circular red ornament from the main tree, fixes it to a sagging branch on the new addition. He comments before Nate can protest, “I like it. It’s irregular, obviously intended by nature to be so. Has character. Leave it where it is, at least it’ll be something interesting to look at.”
Barbie stops pacing, following Mason’s lead, with a green ornament she hangs on an opposite, slightly lighter branch. Just a little trimming, tinsel and lights and ribbon, and this tree could truly be special. One of a kind. Its own new tradition. 
It gives her an idea. 
Leaving the others to discuss re-arrangement, Barbie walks back to sit on an empty space of the coffee table to consult the ‘CF’ section of her Filofax.  A layout of the main room of the Christmas Fete is centered by a hallway length runner rug with tables at either side for Haley’s hot cocoa and treats station, beginning at an entry arch and a dais at its end. On the side of the page, the cast. Elves - Len’s kid and Douglas, Mrs. Claus - Tina, Santa Claus - Lucas, making his debut.  
Lucas, her beloved brother and subject of her final, most important task - confirming his, and Adam’s, flight details and estimated arrival. Barbie checks the time, and tapping her phone screen she notes alerts from his airline. Five minute delay, ten minute delay, confirmation of arrival, a text from him. 
Another hour or two from the city, and Barbie and Lucas will be reunited after far too long apart - and she can hardly wait! Smiling to herself, singing to herself that song from their childhood Christmas pageant, Barbie pencils in a small tree in the space between Mrs. and Santa Claus. She calls to the group, asking Farah, “Could you bring this Charlie Brown Tree to the Fete tomorrow? It’s just the right size, wouldn’t be in Lucas and Tina’s way. Added bonus, the people in town seeing what they missed out on, how a little love goes a long way.”   
Nate places a hand to his chest, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Barbie. Farah claps hers in excitement. “It would be an honor! I’m going to get Nate’s decoration box and get this little guy ready for the show! I’ll drop it off at the station.” Taking a hold of the tree at its base, Farah lifts it like a piece of paper and runs off and out of the room. And it is a testament to Nate’s reflexes and agility that he catches the two ornaments shaken off, and returns them to their home. 
A ring of Barbie’s phone interrupts the calm in Farah’s wake. 
Video call, her mirror image on the screen and Barbie gives her glasses a quick adjustment before swiping her finger across the glass to answer. 
“Ho, ho, ho!” A voice bellows, and there is a grinning Lucas, dark brown hair expertly mussed under the brim of his vintage, thrift-shop treasure, red flannel and white wool Santa Hat. “Merry Christmas!”
Barbie waves, laughing, widening the camera view to show off the living room, then back to her. Nate greets Lucas, unsure where to stand and if he can even see him, moves to lean over Barbie’s shoulder where the pocket of his brown leather jacket fills the display. His own cellular phone rings and he excuses himself to answer. Mason shakes his head, and, arms folded, walks to settle on the edge of the couch.
Back to Lucas, and now Barbie spots a twinkling flash against the red of his hat, one more, behind him white snow flurrying and thickening with each passing second. His voice muffled, harsh streaks of wind silencing him, though she can pick up the unmistakable and clear, deep accent of Adam Du Mortain, calm and authoritative.
There is a leaden, sinking feeling in her stomach. 
“Snow squall,” she finally hears, and when did Lucas move? Blurred behind the camera lens, he has found shelter inside the doors of the airport. Fellow travelers behind him converge into small groups, collective voices rising in confusion and frustration relaying the news to their loved ones. Airplanes had been taking off and landing, no imminent threat of weather. “Barbie, roads are closed, don’t know when they’ll open. Promise I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to make the Fete tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay,” she answers, nodding, glancing around the room to find Nate speaking animatedly and Mason watching snow swirling outside. “Just stay safe, Luke, alright? Keep me updated. Is Adam with you?” 
“Ordering the weather to behave,” he chuckles, attempting to keep her spirits from crashing. “Look, Barbie, I’m sorry.”
Trying to formulate a plan, alternatives and logistics, how to inform Tina, Barbie doesn’t respond until she hears her name again. She shakes her head, “It’s alright. Take your time. We will figure this out. Don’t do anything hasty or dangerous, you need to come home in one piece.” Barbie looks at the screen again, zoom tighter on Lucas, notices the same plush red and fluffy white at his shoulders. “Are you wearing your Santa costume?”
“If you’re going to travel for the holidays, you’ve got to travel in style and make a big entrance. Besides, someone has to spread holiday cheer amongst the masses.”
“Keep them distracted and don’t have too much fun. Again, stay safe. I’ll talk to you soon.” 
As she ends the call, Barbie consults her Filofax, searching for an answer. Surely, she wrote up a back-up plan for Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the Elves, and she did but Sung committed to the community Christmas Feast. She turns to a blank page, scribbles thoughts - Surely, Adam will take care of Lucas. Surely, Mrs. Claus could take the place of her husband, saying he needs a head start on his journey, the children could video-chat with him. 
“Barbie,” Nate’s voice is as understanding and gentle as his gait, taking a seat next to her, patting her back with a touch so light it does not register. He finds Mason, raising his brows and tilting his head and in seconds, Mason stands before them. “I spoke with Adam. Unexpected change of weather a few miles northwest of the city, might be due to magic gone awry, and does not appear to be malicious. Unit Golf has been dispatched to secure the situation, and Adam will be working with them. Bravo is on standby, but he feels this should be contained without our intervention.” 
Mason shrugs, Barbie is still writing in her organizer. 
Turning towards her, Nate’s smile is encouraging, “Now, you are in need of a Saint Nicholas for your Christmas Fete tomorrow. Do you have Lucas’ costume? He and I are of similar build and height, and I would be glad to stand in for him.” 
Barbie, facial muscles finally moving and her mouth falling into an unintentionally pretty pout, unlocks her phone, finds her text messages, and brings up a picture to show him, then Mason. Lucas, mid-laugh, Santa hat flopping to the side, Santa jacket open with a white shirt underneath, Santa trousers on underneath, standing with a not so stiff shouldered, slightly amused Adam in the midst of white and colored glistering lights. “Spreading so much cheer that he performed a holiday miracle, making Adam smile.”
Mason, concerned with the pallor of her skin and the dullness in her eyes, crouches down and pats his pockets, where his now banished cigarettes were once stored - to prevent a fire hazard in this room of shimmering, glimmering potential kindling - pulls out a package, a monstrosity, a little cake shaped like an evergreen tree, an emergency treat purchased at the convenience store. Smushed, and he decides there is no way he will let her raise her blood sugar with something that tastes like plastic. “Eat something if you’re going into figuring-out mode. Maybe not this, I’ll get you something that doesn’t look like reindeer vomit.” 
Nate, rubbing his bottom lip with this thumb, remembers the prior year’s Christmas celebrations. A truly magical time in this already magical town, every year healing from the tragedies at the start of their permanent tenure. He recalls a certain gentleman, an embodiment of the legend and a hero to each child, reading their name from a scroll and making them believe to be the most special. “Mr. Rockwell. He was treasured, and enjoyed the role.” 
“Retired. Out of town to visit his new grandchild.” Barbie taps her pencil against the cover of her Filofax. Nate’s mention of the Santa Claus of the past decade, of his generosity and love, his joy infectious, reminds her of a conversation - between Mr. Rockwell and his wife, Lucas and Tina, and her. A transition of tradition. 
“Wait.” Her eyes open wide, sparkling once more with another idea. “We are brilliant! Mr. Rockwell left us his suit, even though it was too short for Lucas, something about keeping the Christmas spirit. It should still be at the station, I’ll call Tina to confirm.” 
Once more in the middle of this living room, Mason returns to see two faces look at him expectantly, and though there is some he does not understand, he understands the faces of two schemers. Especially one who has talked him into decorating more than he ever thought he would in eternity, and one he would do just about any damn thing for. He shoves the cookie, on a napkin to avoid another lecture by Nate, towards Barbie. “Eat this. And what do you both want?”
“Tina said the Santa costume is at the station, and she’s running a lint roller over it to get rid of any dust. You’re about Mr. Rockwell’s height -”
“No.”
Nate makes a second attempt, honeyed words pleading, “for no more than two hours. It would mean so much to this town that has become our home. It would mean -”
“I’m not dealing with any little brat screaming in my ears about some presents.” 
“It would mean a lot to me,” Barbie finishes for Nate, flatly. “We will keep the kids calm, Nate and Farah will entertain them. Tina will talk to them, and you can just check their names against a roster and repeat their wish. Then take a picture with them.” 
“Nope. Besides, we’re supposed to be in the shadows.”
Nate nods, acknowledging that Mason is correct. The accessories, such as the full, white beard, may be uncomfortable for him, as well as the inevitable sounds which come with the excitement of children. It may not be such a fair ask, and there may be some other possibilities. “Babs, there may be some adjustments I can have made to the suit, to accompany the length of my arms and legs. The tailor in town, I am sure, is quite busy. I can, however, make a request with ours at the Agency.”
An attempt to speak comes out as a squeak, and Barbie throws her arms around Nate’s shoulders in a hug. “Thank you, Nate. Really. We should go now, and get to your tailor as soon as possible.” 
Mason, silver eyes sharp and observant, regards Barbie and he guesses she’s relieved, with the sharp exhale of breath, taking a bite of the cookie and writing down some last notes. There is an errant thump in his chest, and he rubs his palm against it. Then regards Nate, also exhaling a breath, longer, and his hands slide into his pockets, their refuge. 
And damnit, her smile is making his jaw tingle, and he stretches it to alleviate that sensation. Damnit, she is so fucking beautiful like this, merry and jovial. And, groaning, Mason drags his hand down his face, wrapping his fingers behind his neck. 
He thinks he might regret this for eternity, but then figures that being able to do what Nate is doing, make her glow like that again, so ecstatic? Maybe that’ll make an afternoon of misery worth everything. 
“Wait,” he reaches, finding Barbie’s hand, and pulls them both up. “You just have to promise to stay near me, alright, sweetheart?” 
Barbie’s mouth falls open, and she truly is stunned, frozen in place as she processes his answer. She then grins, thanking him with a kiss to his cheek. “You got it, Santa.” 
~
In the midst of hazing lights, luminous trees and the rising dawn of the Eve, there is a stir. In this living room, under a bough and honoring the custom of the mistletoe, a couple hushes each other between deep kisses and berry extraction. His senses are heightened once more, and he grumbles an announcement of visitors. She spies past the door and wishes, one small wish, that he will appear.
And to her delight, they are not just any visitors.
The commanding agent will claim this a completed, successful mission, but with a hearty and robust, “Merry Christmal to all!”, Lucas will say that with a little magic, he fulfilled his Christmas promise.
fin.
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crownmemes · 10 months
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Pretentious & Poetic Sentences, Vol. 1
(Pretentious sentences from various sources for muses that like to speak in grandiose sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)
"Opinions are the enemy of justice and the curse of the modern world."
"We trust to our peril, but to not is to be alone."
"The ship in port is the safer one but that's not the reason it was made."
"Some say our dreams are a distant road down which our hearts would like to go."
"There's a purity in evil."
"Life neuters us all. "
"Only in death does duty end."
"It is necessary to get behind someone before you can stab them in the back."
"Your sins crawl on you like fleas."
"You remind me of what I could've been."
"The greatest deception is to the self."
"If a coward dies a thousand times, then there's a graveyard in my head."
"Old sins cast long shadows."
"You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it."
"If I resembled what you loved most, would you grant me the intimacy I desire from you?"
"If you don't offload trauma, it will come to you as a demon."
"We cannot escape the destiny imprinted in our genetic code, whether foisted on us by nature or fostered there by nurture."
"What is a god but the cattle's name for farmer? What is heaven but the gilded door of the abattoir?"
"There's a fine line between calculation and deceit."
"The secrets are the heart are buried deep. Only time will reveal how deeply they are sewn."
"To the bird with no flight, the skies don’t ever offer respite."
"You need to taste death before you can live."
"I knew you'd looked into the black hole of nothingness the first time I saw you."
"All knowledge is power, and to share it is to lose it."
"It is forbidden to kill, therefore all murderers are punished... Unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets."
"Lie to the entire world, lie to your god, but don't lie to yourself."
"You only give up your power when you don't think you have any."
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thedemonofcat · 7 months
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Time for another modern au.
Geralt and Jaskier had exchanged vows and rings a long while ago, entwining their lives in a bond they both once cherished deeply. If you asked them now, they'd still profess their love, but it was a love tested by a cruel twist of fate.
The crux of their dilemma lay in the cruel irony that they seldom found themselves in the same place. Geralt, the stalwart soldier, was part of the military along with his brothers, and his deployments were as unpredictable as they were lengthy. Conversely, Jaskier, the charismatic musician, was a man of the stage and studio, often whisked away to far-flung cities for concerts or interviews, leaving his husband behind.
Though they tried to bridge the physical chasm with letters and phone calls, their connection suffered. Geralt sometimes feared that Jaskier, the social butterfly, would eventually yearn for a partner who could be there more consistently. Meanwhile, Jaskier couldn't help but worry about Geralt's safety, knowing the perils of his military service.
When, by a stroke of fate, they did share the same space, an odd sense of awkwardness pervaded the air. Their love still existed, but it had been tested, strained by their prolonged separations.
Then, a life-altering message reached Geralt while stationed at his base camp. He was being sent home, but confusion soon transformed into dread as he discovered the reason. Jaskier had fallen seriously ill during a performance, collapsing on stage and being rushed to the hospital.
The doctors remained puzzled by Jaskier's condition, but what was certain was that the vivacious singer was now grappling with breathing difficulties and unrelenting fatigue. The physicians' verdict was clear – Jaskier had to cease performing until they could pinpoint the cause of his ailment.
Thus, Geralt was summoned home, his mission transitioning from military service to caretaking.
The couple who, for the past few years, had scarcely spent a month in the same city, were now destined to be together indefinitely.
Both Geralt and Jaskier clung to a fragile hope that the prolonged proximity might rekindle the flames of their love. However, lurking in the corners of their minds was the daunting prospect of Jaskier's mysterious ailment worsening, a grim reality they could no longer evade.
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see-arcane · 11 months
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Everyone collectively ignoring today that Jonathan isn't his own boss :/
I don't think it's malicious (or at least not nearly as rampant as it was last year) but just the result of a lot of modern genre-poisoning where we're very used to pulling our hair out over protagonists in scary movies and such doing the OBVIOUSLY DANGEROUS THING and putting themselves in peril.
Something we always do whether the victim is:
A) Doing something legitimately stupid and unnecessary or
B) Doing the exact same thing anybody would do in their own situation without the benefit of a 3rd person semi-omniscient POV
Plus, the fact that this is. You know. Dracula. One of the most well-known names in all of horror and vampire fiction history, if not the most well-known name. Even with the context of knowing Jonathan Harker obviously can't know he's in the novel Dracula, it kind of hits a mental funny bone when we picture him muscling his way through all the mounting dread and omens to willingly put himself in the Count's clutches for his job's sake.
But that's the crux right there. He has to go. He can't run away over a few scary stories and a bad feeling. No more than infinite other folks can just walk out of a job over it being unpleasant. You either do the job or you lose it. And he has the love of his life--also saving for a wedding with him!--and his mentor/boss relying on him to do this First Big Assignment right. A plum of a transaction with a foreign noble! His first real step up the career ladder!
Would anyone reasonably walk away in that situation?
Or, better question, could you? Could you in good conscience turn yourself around, pay your own way back across Europe, across the Channel, and limp your way back to office and home with your tail between your legs whining about how you just had to blow off the important client because 'ooh~ it seemed so scary there~'?
I doubt it.
Just as I doubt that, considering Dracula's MO, Jonathan would even have lived long enough to regret putting a temporary wrinkle in the Count's plans.
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