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#and learning how to overcome them better more and more each day
thewulf · 1 year
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That's a Kill || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: Y/N Kazansky. The Admiral's daughter. You always had to prove yourself to the boys. The good old boys. You never thought much of any of them, knowing you were better than them. That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You meet Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin who drives you nuts, the first day. You start to fall for the man in front of you as he does the same.
A/N: You all really are the sweetest. This one is a bit longer. Hope you enjoy! I Appreciate the feedback! All fluff. We're also pretending Ice is completely okay - no cancer :)
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N
Word Count: 8,900+
Part 2 | Part 3
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You weren’t sure you wanted to be a pilot when you were a kid. Over the years you learned to love flying, especially with your dad. He had always encouraged flying but never forced you into anything you didn’t want to do. Your brother on the other hand had decided he wanted to be a pilot just like his daddy. He became a damn good one at that. But you, you were exceptional. Once you decided you did want to become a pilot you weren’t going to stop until you were the best. You kept true to your word; you were one of the best. You graduated first in your class at Top Gun, earning the coveted picture on the wall. It wasn’t without challenge though. People made many assumptions about you because of your dad that you had to overcome. Once you did, you were a force to be reckoned with.
You were so different than your dad, oh so different. Your dad, the legendary “Iceman”, Tom Kazansky, was a cocky son of a bitch (his terms, not yours). He always got whatever he wanted. He was cool, calm, and collected Tom. He was ice cold. He was Iceman. It worked for him.
But you, you decided from an early age that you caught more flies with honey than you did vinegar. You quite literally killed them with kindness. It became your thing. You only seemed to grow kinder over time, never letting anybody walk all over you though. It worked for you.
You shamelessly tried to hide your lineage, but it just didn’t work with your brother’s big mouth and your rather recognizable last name. Kazansky wasn’t easy to hide with your dad being an Admiral and all.
The word spread quickly of the Admiral’s daughter joining the ranks of Top Gun. You kept your head low and worked hard. You were kind to everybody in your class confusing your instructors who had to deal with your brother, and your dad, not that long ago. You didn’t have the ego nor the cockiness your lovely father and brother had. You were laid back, kind, but so sure of yourself.
You were a quiet one too. You never spoke out of turn only when you were addressed. Just a quiet observer in a world of crass pilots who thought they were the best. You knew you had a leg up on all the boys in your class, you were trained by your dad and Maverick from a very early age. You were yet to beat either of them, but you swore your day was coming. Each time you went up in the air you were determined to fly even better than the last, they both noticed. They knew you were special, Y/N Kazansky.
When you were in the air you were just as cool, calm, and collected as your dad. You knew you were better than your brother you would just never dare to say it out loud. You flew just like your dad did. Ice cold. You had that something special that everybody chased after. People didn’t know how to deal with you, your personality didn’t match up with the girl who flew. It made you smile, they always walked on eggshells around you. You knew you held the power you just never took advantage of it.
Your personality is what got you the callsign Lava. Everybody claimed you were the exact opposite of your father. You wanted to disagree with them, you and your dad were more alike than anybody knew. But you couldn’t fault them, the way the two of you presented yourselves was completely different. You were kind, you smiled at people, and you helped others. You had to laugh at the subtle shade that was being thrown your fathers way. You knew how cold he could be, but you also knew how loving of a guy he really was. You loved the entire situation, so you embraced your callsign. What was the opposite of Ice? Fire. But Fire didn’t sound as cool as Lava, per the boys, so Lava it was.
The instructors couldn’t quite grasp who you were. You were a sweetheart on the ground but a menace in the air. You didn’t even sound like yourself when you were giving orders and having the time of your life in the sky. You proved them wrong time and time again in the air. They thought you only got into Top Gun because of Ice; boy were they wrong. You just had that little something extra that other pilots didn’t seem to have. You couldn’t put your finger on it, nobody could figure it out either. That was years ago now, you had graduated Top Gun first in your class two years prior.
You went on a few decent missions that brought you some sense of accomplishment. You were sure your father had something to do with all the lame assignments you had been given over the last few years. You were the best of the best and you were going on missions that any pilot could go on. You had blowout arguments with your dad about it. He claimed he never did anything, you just had to believe him even though it didn’t make sense to you.
That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You were called back just like the rest of them. You were a few years younger than the majority of group that was invited. You weren’t familiar with anybody you were briefed on. You’d certainly heard of them though; they were all very well known within the Naval Aviator ranks. The best part about being a Kazansky was getting to know who you were going on missions with.
“No Will?” You asked your dad. Will was your older brother, three years older. He had gone to Top Gun with a few of the people on this list of twelve. You recognized Hangman from his class. Will always complained about him telling you the stories of how he earned his callsign Hangman. Will always referred to him as Bagman, you made of note of that one in your head. You grinned seeing him on the list knowing he’d be a tough one to deal with.
Your dad shook his head, “No, he isn’t ready yet.”
You nodded your head eyeing your dad curiously, “Must be serious then?”
“More than you know Y/N. Please, be careful.”
You hid a smile from your face seeing his apprehension. You knew it had to be one hell of a mission, “Yes sir.” Finally, your chance at something big.
You had gotten the invitation just like the rest, to meet everybody at the Hard Deck the night prior to your reporting day. You really didn’t want to go but you had a feeling that everybody else was going to be there. You were mortified when it said to show up in uniform. You considered showing up in your civ gear but decided it would be worse if you were the only one to show up in regular clothes.
You ended up going in your uniform trying to play it cool as you entered the bar. You quickly spotted the other aviators before slyly made your way over to them, all of them in uniform. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing it.
You sat down next to the most unassuming looking person there who happened to be shoveling popcorn into his face, “Hi.” You greeted him as you took a seat.
“Hi!” He smiled setting the popcorn down, “I’m Bob.” He stuck his hand out to you. He was a little dorky, but you just knew you were going to love him.
You nodded taking his hand gently in yours, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you Bob, what’s your callsign?”
He laughed while nodding his head, seemingly like he just went through this, “Bob.”
“I like it!” You giggled.
“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled genuinely seeming to not get that reaction all too often, “And yours?”
“Lava. Lav for short if you wish.” You smiled swinging your legs back and forth on the high-top chair.
“Noted.” He smiled at you while fixing his glasses, “How’d you get that name?”
You sighed leaning back into your seat, “My dad. Kinda sucks when your own callsign comes from somebody’s else.” You paused for a second before continuing, “My dad is Iceman.” You nearly whispered the last part. Everybody knew about Iceman. Iceman this or Iceman that. He was a legend among Top Gun piloting legends.
“You’re Admiral Kazansky’s daughter?”
You nodded looking your head down, “I swear I’m a good pilot Bob. I’m not just here because of the name.”
“I didn’t mean that!” Bob spoke frantically, “Just surprised is all, your kind of well-known but nobody really knows you. I’m surprised you’re here.”
You bit your lip in spite, “I believe my dear old dad had something to do with that. I’ve always flown the most basic missions. None of them worth a damn. Who knows how I even made it here?” You said grumbling in frustration.
Bob shrugged, “Who cares? You’re here.”
You nodded your head, “You’re right Bob, I am here.”
“And who do we have here?” A new voice interrupted the two of you. You slowly turned your head seeing your brothers favorite pilot leaning against the chair next to you with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. You had to admit he looked good. Better than the pictures ever showed. Your damn brother would never mention how handsome he was to you either, you weren’t surprised. Will had made him out to be some horrific monster. Not the tall, tan, muscular pilot standing before you.
“Y/N.” You gave him your sweetest smile knowing you’d have to kick up the charm to get through to him. You didn’t necessarily want to beat Hangman, you simply wanted to get into his head. You wanted to know he could be beat if you wanted to. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you were better than Hangman in the air you just had a sneaking suspicion you were.
His eyes flicked down to the last name embroidered on your chest. Kazansky big and bold for everybody to see. You heard him chuckle before looking up to you, “The other Kazansky. Thought you were some mythical creature. Nice to know you actually exist.”
You smirked seeing just how this man got under Will’s skin so bad, “Nice to meet you Bagman.”
He snorted setting his beer down ready for the conversation to begin, “Seems like your brothers got a big mouth. Where is he?”
“I don’t disagree.” You giggled, making sure to turn that charm up even harder than before, “Dad said he’s not ready.” Shrugging you leaned back into your seat wishing you had a beer to distract yourself with.
“That’s cold Kazansky.” He eyed you up and down taking you in. He didn’t know how much trouble he really was in before he initiated the conversation between the two of you. He was starting to get a sense of just how fucked he knew he was once you started throwing words right back at him with the sweetest look on your face. He knew right then and there you were going to be a problem for him, a thorn in his side. He got a rush just thinking about it knowing he had to continue the conversation on for as long as you would let him.
“Would you say, ice cold?” You tapped the table.
You heard Bob let out laugh from behind you, almost forgetting he was sitting there. Hangman shook his head leaning just a touch closer to you, seemingly being drawn in by you, “My real name’s Jake. Jake Seresin.” He stuck his hand out to you waiting for your response to his move.
“Will did not like you Mr. Seresin.” You took his hand gently in yours, just as you did Bob’s. Not reacting to his firm grip instead cocking your head to the side looking at him curiously. You felt him release your grip immediately. You weren’t sure why but that move made every man react the same way, almost embarrassed to be showing off to you.
He took a second to regain his composure, thoroughly enamored with the game he knew he had just begun with you. “I hope you don’t take anything he said to heart darling.”
Smooth. So smooth. You were a sucker for endearing names. He didn’t know that, and you couldn’t let that one slip. Your turn to regain composure. You just hoped your delicately crafted façade hadn’t slipped already, “Your telling me not to trust my own brother? Wow. That’s cold Seresin.”
“You don’t think family can be a bit dramatic sometimes?” The world around you two had seemed to slip away. You forgot Bob behind you. Hangman forgetting the game of pool he was playing with another guy, looked like Payback to you.
“A bit. But I don’t think my dad is.” You played the dad card not really caring that you did. Wanting to keep him on this toes.
You saw him visibly gulp, “Now, I know your joking.” He almost sounded, desperate? You knew you had to draw it back a little bit. Truth be told your dad only had good things to say about Hangman, some thing he needed to work on in the air but a damn good pilot otherwise.
You shrugged hopping up from your seat, “I’m getting a beer. Bob, you need one?” You turned back to the silent observer who was picking up on something between the two of you.
“I’m good.” He smiled back to you.
You waved at him before turning back to Jake, “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll have to find out Bagman.” You winked at him before making your way to the bar.
The rest of your night consisted of strategically staying away from Hangman. You didn’t want to get caught up with his antics just yet. You felt what Bob had seen earlier. The bantering between the two of you came way to easy. It didn’t take you long to warm up to a person, but you just felt connected to Jake instantly. You decided when you walked away from him earlier that you would have to avoid him at all costs. You didn’t really think the plan would work but it would certainly delay the inevitable. You knew the two of you would either become the best of friends or hate each other bitterly. You didn’t want the latter, so you decided to avoid it.
Any other night and you would have likely gone home with Harvard. You were instantly charmed by the Clark Kent looking man. You knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to go home with him once you realized you kept looking around for Hangman to see if he was paying attention to you or not. You accidentally caught his eye a few times instantly looking away. He smirked know he had gotten into your head. Physically, you were with Harvard but mentally, Hangman had caught your attention. So, he backed off, he saw what you were doing. He wasn’t dumb. He was thrilled when he saw Harvard leave without you. You moved back to Phoenix, still avoiding Hangman.
You got to know the entire Dagger squad the rest of the night. You were one of three women on the team of twelve, Phoenix and Halo rounding out the crew. You knew you would grow close to Rooster, hearing everything about him from Maverick, he was the life of the party. The squad welcomed you with open arms. You still avoided Hangman, knowing how screwed you were. But he knew, he knew he won that night.
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The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Maverick was your instructor, a detail your father had refused to give you. You sensed the tension immediately between Rooster and Mav. You quickly remembered just how awful things were between the pair You didn’t know Rooster personally, until you met him last night, but you felt like you knew him from the stories you were told. You weren’t sure why you had never met him before last night. He was older than you are sure, but it still didn’t add up. Mav always said Carole had kept him to keep him from the Navy, one of the many failed attempts.
You were snapped back into reality when you heard the two quietly arguing with one another before the class was dismissed. You sat patiently waiting on Mav to pack up and the rest of the class to leave.
“Good class Mav. Can’t wait to start.” You grinned getting up from you seat.
“Kazansky. Good to see you kid.” He walked over wrapping you into a tight hug.
“Dad didn’t spill. Can’t believe your teaching us!” You squeezed him tightly.
He ruffled your hair after releasing you, “Didn’t know until a few days ago.”
“Oh Yeah!” You laughed, “You blew up the Darkstar! Dad told me all about it.”
“Course he did.” He chuckled guiding you out of the classroom. The next six hours consisted of field air training. You couldn’t be more pumped to have your hand at Mav again.
“Heard you went past Mach 10 though. That’s certifiable Mav.” You paused as you got to the front of the women’s locker room.
He nodded stopping with you, “Pushed her a bit too far. We’ll get her next time.”
You nodded along with him, “Good luck up there, old man.”
He feigned hurt by placing his hand on his heart, “You wound me Kazansky, I still don’t recall you ever getting me though.”
“Eat it.” You laughed walking into the locker room.
You changed into your flight suit quickly. Phoenix and Halo were already finishing up, they waited on you while you changed keeping you company. All twelve of you gathered in the training room waiting on direction from Maverick.
“Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster. Your up first.” Mav spoke in the doorway entry exiting quickly to his plane. The nine of you tuned the radio into the channel listening into the chatter between all the aviators.
You simply smiled listening into the panic once Mav came on Radar between all the pilots. He had done that shit to you so many times before. So Maverick. You giggled when Payback and Fanboy nearly begged for 200 pushups, no idea what they were in for. Maverick broke the rules. He didn’t give a shit about the Navy’s policies. Maverick did what Maverick wanted to do. He always had your dad to pardon him, he was truly fearless.
You were up next once all three were eliminated. You were with Hangman. You audibly laughed once Maverick gave you your assignment. You turned to him radiantly, “Let’s beat him.”
He snickered, “Yes ma’am.” Whew, you nearly melted. You had to turn away quickly walking out of the training room and to your plane so you wouldn’t get distracted. You and Hangman were up in the air five minutes later in two separate planes, of course.
“Let’s see what you can do sweetheart.” He chuckled before breaking left away from you.
You audibly sighed forgetting you were on radio for everybody to hear, “That’s why they fucking call you Bagman.” You knew you were on your own, not that you minded. You were used to this game with Maverick. You heard Maverick audibly laugh, the game was on.
You had avoided him and tried to help Hangman, but Maverick was just too good. He knocked Hangman out first. Your turn. You lasted longer than you thought you would, pulling out all the stops and maneuvers you had been taught throughout all the years. You faltered when a flock of birds changed the plans in your head at the last minute breaking you right instead of left which left you as a sitting duck. You mentally cursed yourself when you hopped out of your jet joining Hangman in your 200 pushups.
“Not bad Kazansky.” Maverick patted you on the shoulder.
You shook your head, “That was not good Mav, and you know it. I should have seen those damn birds sooner.” You wanted to pout but replaced your frown with a small smile.
“You’re too hard on yourself kid. That’s the best I’ve seen you fly. Don’t sweat it. Plus, I need your head in the game. These next few weeks aren’t going to be for the faint of heart.”
You nodded, “Got it, Captain.” You smiled, “Now don’t mind me, I have a punishment I must fulfil.”
“Lieutenant.” He nodded before walking back to the training center. Grabbing the next pair of victims.
You dropped down and began your pushups. Jake was already past 150. You grumbled internally knowing he would be watching you once he finished. You loved having his eyes on you but him being this close was rather intimidating.
“Thanks for the help up there.” He spoke once he finished his 200.
You sighed knowing you were just going to have to have a conversation with him because you couldn’t move, “If you would have listened to me, you wouldn’t have been shot down.” You said as sweetly as you could muster. Pushups were never really your thing. You could do them. They just weren’t the prettiest nor the fastest.
“I disagreed.” He retorted.
“Thus, why you were shot down.” You said quickly, knowing how easy it was to get him upset. You just considered it payback.
He sat there quietly watching you. He didn’t really blame you. He blatantly didn’t listen to you on purpose. Not wanting to believe you were as good as he thought you were. Turns out you were better. He thought you might even be better than him. Especially watching you work with Maverick. He was in awe of your ability to control the aircraft. You were effortless in the air.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You spoke up breaking him from his trance.
He bit his lip sending shivers down your spine. Not good. Not a good reaction you thought, “I would if I could Darling, don’t seem to have my phone on me though.”
Smooth, he always seemed to have something to say. When he didn’t, he sat down and shut up to figure out how to get himself out of the situation. He knew you’d beat him though and that excited him beyond belief. He was yet to be matched and he knew that Y/N Kazansky would be the first to change that.
You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pig.”
He shrugged, “You suggested it Lava.”
You nearly recoiled hearing your callsign off his tongue. You truly didn’t dislike your callsign it just wasn’t frequently used for you. You were often called Baby Ice or Kazansky. You didn’t want to admit how good it sounded though. How much you liked hearing any sort of your identification coming from his lips. You needed to get ahold of yourself and quick.
You sighed getting up from the ground shaking your arms out, “Just try and keep up next time Seresin.” You smiled to him before walking away.
He walked up behind you almost making you jump. You weren’t expecting that. Kind of bold you thought, “Need any help stretching those arms out darling?”
You almost gasped at his forwardness. You really didn’t know how to handle this man. You could’ve sworn that my growing up around your dad and Mav you would’ve been prepared for any scenario. You were wrong about that. Jake Seresin was figuring you out quicker than anybody had in your entire life, perhaps he’s the only one that would be able to. That truly freaked you out. You had a finely crafted exterior that nobody had been able to penetrate. You were worried that was going to change and soon.
You shook your head, “Don’t even think about it Hangman.” You laughed smiling back to him. He really was a handsome man. Blond hair and green eyes. You were a sucker for a man with green eyes. You knew once he figured that out, you’d be a goner.
He smiled at your resistance. His breath got caught in his throat as you whipped around and greeted him with that smile. He was a sucker for a beautiful smile and man oh man did you have a million-dollar smile. He returned to his thoughts quickly as you turned back away from him, “Just offering sweetheart.” He followed you back to the training room where you were cheered for and greeted by the other pilots.
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You weren’t sure what Mav was up to when he told the class to meet at the Hard Deck at 5 PM that night and to wear your ‘beach workout gear’. You were sure you were incredibly nervous as to what beach workout gear meant to the guys, specifically Mr. Jake Seresin.
You weren’t given much time to go home and change, Mav letting you go at 4 PM, giving you just an hour to get ready. You raced back to your temporary home looking for just the right clothes. You mentally cursed yourself for putting so much time and thought into what you were going to wear to this sunset workout, specifically for Jake. You had never done this sort of thing for any guy you’ve come across in the Navy yet somehow Jake freaking Seresin was beginning to wrap you up in his tangled web.
You groaned hitting your head softly against the wall. You knew your dad would be getting a kick out of this one. Your dad never thought anybody was ever going to crack your hard exterior, much less a boy from Top Gun. You were always so much more confident than anybody you had come across. Your dad would always comment on it, sure that you would rarely get challenged. But here came Jake Seresin to mess up all your plans and assurances.
Maverick was yet to catch onto anything between the two of you. You had gone up with Hangman a few more times, each time a little better than the last. All Mav noticed was the bickering between the two, seemingly no different than any other flight with Hangman. He seemed to bring out the fighter in everybody he talked to. But the bickering was different, for Jake it was. You were so much quicker and wittier than anybody he had come across. You seemed to have a response ready to go at the tip of your tongue no matter what he said. You only got tripped up when he mentioned not very work appropriate actions. Your face would go a light shade of pink when he alluded to indecent things in such a casual manor. He was ready to use that against you, simply bidding his time.
What Jake did notice was how damn good of a pilot you were though. He found that the two of you were easily matched. You were quicker and seemingly more agile in the air. He was better at locking onto targets than you were though, he locked onto Mav a few times but failed to hit him so far. Mav was as cocky as ever, so much fun to watch as he ripped through the air. Always proudly shouting his favorite phrase as he show the twelve of you down over and over, “That’s a kill.” You really couldn’t wait to use it against him one of these days.
After letting yourself think way to hard for a few moments you snapped back to the present. You decided on a simple set of a black sports bra and spandex. You through on a loose tank top fully intending to take it off if it got to hot in the San Diego sun.
You rushed down to the Hard Deck upset at yourself for leaving with such little time to spare. You hated being late, something your dad instilled in you at a very young age. That topped with your mom making you late to everything she took you to cause that sense of dread every time you were coming close to being late. Luckily, you got there with a few minutes to spare rushing over to Phoenix and Halo’s side.
Jake grinned when he saw you arrive a little frantically. He had picked up on your punctuality. You were always one of the first aviators to arrive in the classroom and in the field. He saw a glimpse of panic when you arrived far to close to Mavericks call time. He smiled knowing he had noticed another small thing about you. He never planned to use it against you only to use it for his advantage. He knew you were always early to things giving him a chance to talk to you alone, away from the other pilots.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when Maverick called everybody to attention. He explained the rules of his made-up game of Dogfight Football. You were an avid football watcher knowing the game like the back of your hand. You weren’t allowed to grow up in house with Iceman and not know every rule like a ref would. What Maverick was explaining though confused even you. Nonetheless you split into two teams. Phoenix and Rooster on your team. Hangman, Payback and Cayote on the other. Halo was unfortunately snatched up by the opposite side, she lined up against Phoenix. Leaving you with Hangman. You wanted to complain about how unfair a matchup it was but could never give Hangman that simple satisfaction, so you shut your mouth.
“This ought to be easy.” He winked at you as he lined up for the first time against you.
You squatted down ever so slightly. You were fast but you weren’t Jake Seresin fast. You needed to take any advantage you have against him. Rooster also had you back against him in case he got by. Not that you were going to let it happen, “Do you ever just keep your mouth shut Bagman?”
“Now you know there’s no fun in that Lav.” That nickname was new from him. You had heard it time and time again from your various classmates and naval aviators throughout the years. But it was new coming from him. You liked the way it sounded more than you wanted to admit.
You hummed admitting he was partially right, “Not everything has to be a game, Jake.” You admitted sincerely, not sure where you wanted the conversation to go.
“Sure, it doesn’t.” He admitted, “But again, no fun in not making everything a game darling.”
He caught the small sigh that escaped your lips, “That sounds exhausting.” You spoke looking down to the ground trying to listen for both Jake and if the balls were being snapped.
He wanted to answer you honestly, it was exhausting for him. But he didn’t know how to turn that side of him off. So, he just let it happen. He knew it was something he needed to work on he just wasn’t so sure he was ready to admit that just yet.
The two of you worked well against one another, to your utter astonishment. You were both able to stop the other often, occasionally letting a good catch or run slip through. The game was utter chaos, yet you and Jake were able to stay in the little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You didn’t forget the world around you, you both just ignored it and focused on the other.
You about lost it twenty or so minutes in when Jake tore his shirt off and threw it over to the sideline where Penny was sitting. You bit the inside of your mouth to stop the face you were itching to make. You kept your eyes on his not daring to look down at his toned body. You knew you were toast if you looked down, so you opted to look ahead.
You heard Jake laughing before you saw it, “What’s the matter Kazansky? Never seen a shirtless body?” He spoke a little too loudly earning a chuckle from a few other pilots. Embarrassing. You were thankful your cheeks were already rosy from the workout hiding the stupid blush you know adorned your face presently. He really knew what to say to tick the right buttons didn’t he?
“Shut up, Jake.” Was all you could think of quickly before the balls were snapped again giving you a second to regroup.
“That all you’ve got Kazansky?” He egged you on once he blocked the pass that came your way. He was in your head and he knew it. You knew it.
You nodded, truly at a loss for words, “Yeah, you got me.” You admitted, maybe sounding a little too upset in the admission.
You noticed Jake’s features soften a bit. He was itching to reach out to you, to ask you what was wrong. You seemed more than fine a few moments ago. He knew a few silly comments wouldn’t throw you off your game that bad, but they seemed to this afternoon. He decided to back off a bit not wanting to push you too far. He knew you could handle a lot, but he didn’t know your limits. He didn’t want to push you over the edge.
You ran over to the side ignoring Jake’s silent protests. You spotted Yale sitting there taking his break, “Yale! Can you cover me? I need to talk to Mav.” You smiled as sweetly as you could to him.
“Sure Lav.” He laughed taking your spot across from Hangman. You saw Jake watching you frowning when Yale stepped in front of him. You watched him out of your peripherals as you ran over to Mav who was sitting in the distance letting the teamwork out the game on their own. Jake didn’t take his eyes off you until the balls were snapped bringing him back to the present.
“Mav!” You gasped when you finally reached him, the sand decided to humble you a bit leaving you out of breath.
He slid his aviators off raising his brows curiously, “Everything alright, Y/N?”
You took a second to catch your breath, “I need you to have me switch teams.” You clapped your hands expecting him to oblige beginning to walk back to the game.
“No.”
“Great!” You stopped abruptly before turning a little startled by his answer, “Why not?”
“I made the teams purposefully Y/N. I’m not just moving you over. You’ve got to learn to work with what you got.” He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you inevitable rebuttal.
“It’s not that I don’t like my team Mav. They’re all great.” You stopped short not wanting to admit to your almost Uncle why you really wanted to switch teams.
“Then what is it Kazansky?” A small smirk was beginning to underline his features. Did he know? He had to of known. Or else he wouldn’t be doing this to you right now. You paused and thought this over with yourself. On one hand it was just Mav, maybe he knew the right way out of the little predicament you were in. On the other, it was Mav and he’d immediately be calling your dad up. You loved your dad but there were just some things he didn’t need to know while you tried to figure it out.
“I can’t play opposite of Jake.” You admitted softly.
Mav laughed, “I know he’s annoying Y/N. There’s a reason why I put him and you against each other.”
“It’s not that!” You groaned turning away from him. You wicked the sweat off your face with your damp tank top, knowing it wouldn’t be on your body much longer either.
“Then what is it, can’t help if I don’t know Baby Ice.” He full on smirked using your childhood nickname.
You couldn’t stop the eyeroll that already begun when you heard the name baby coming from him, he just loved to get under your skin too, “He’s too distracting Mav.” You gave him a wide-eyed look hoping he’d pick up what you were putting down.
He in fact did not pick up what you were putting down, “Too distracting?”
“Dammit Mav! You’re really going to make me say it.” You sat down next to him on the sand brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “I can’t focus when he has his shirt off. I forgot we were playing a stupid game there for a second.”
Mav’s face finally came to the realization of what you were telling him. His mouth formed a small o as he processed the information, “Jake really?” He laughed waiting for you to join in. When you failed to join him, he realized you were being serious.
“Mav that’s not funny.” You grumbled looking down finding the sand super interesting.
“I thought you detested him.” Mav admitted finally processing what his almost niece was telling him.
“I did! On the first day.” You threw your head back looking to the blue sky that was slowly beginning to turn orange. Cursing the timing of everything. You finally got a huge mission, and a stupid southern boy was going to distract you from it? You weren’t into boys the way your friends were growing up. You were a tomboy through and through and saw most of them as brothers, not lovers. This didn’t end when you graduated high school, college and even all the way through Top Gun. Nobody interested you. Sure, you had a few suitors and you dated sporadically but you never had a tried-and-true boyfriend. Your brother teased you until his face was blue about it sometimes. He had a few long-time girlfriends but none of them ever seemed to work out in the end, your only weapon against him. But that weapon was shattered when his girlfriend of three years accepted his marriage proposal. Not that you minded, you loved his fiancée Marissa and really couldn’t wait for her to marry into the family.
Marissa never gave you a hard time about it. She understood it made sense for you. You had something to prove in your Naval career that would likely get thrown off course with a serious boyfriend. You couldn’t get distracted, your career depended on it. That mindset worked. You were always the young one. You went to the Naval Academy at 17 and graduated by 21. You were invited to Top Gun at 25, the youngest in your class who turned out to be the best in the class, cruising by all the men. You knew you had a lot to prove being the daughter of Admiral Kazansky. It irritated you though that you had to work tirelessly for it while Will seemed to just have it. And now here you were, the youngest at 28. You had really hoped it was all worth it.
Maverick laughing pulled you back out of your mind and into reality, “Does Y/N Kazansky, my own Baby Ice, have a crush?”
If looks could kill Mav knew he’d be dead. He’s not sure he has ever seen such a look on your face before, “Mav keep it down.” You sighed not denying him.
“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.” He sounded a bit more serious this time. He had certainly not picked up on your feelings towards Hangman. He really thought you detested him. You body language made it seem like you really hated the guy, always standing away from him if you could. You snapped at him quite a bit, not ever losing your cool but not acting like that towards anybody else.
You nodded silently, “I do. But you can’t tell dad.”
“You’re taking the fun out of it for me Kazansky.” He sighed leaning back into his chair. He was happy for you although still confused. You really didn’t show any signs of it, maybe he was that oblivious though.
“Mavvvvv.” You sighed just like him dragging his name out like a toddler would.
“Fine. You have my word. I won’t call up Ice. But you’ve got to figure it out for me. I cannot afford to have you distracted kid. Either say something and own up to it or forget about it, alright?”
You gulped and nodded, “Okay. But you’ve got to give me a little time.”
“Sure. But this really is life or death Y/N. I need you here. All of you. 100% of that big ass Kazansky brain that you have. Do you hear me?”
You shook your head up and down hearing him. It frightened you a little bit. You understood how hard this mission was going to be, yet you had the confidence you could do it. You had yet to master the course but you, Phoenix and Bob were the closest group to completing the task yet. Only off by thirty seconds, you knew those thirty seconds were life or death though. Seeing Maverick this serious though threw the gravity of the entire situation right in front of you. A knot formed in your stomach finally understanding this was it, this was a true test of skill. You were picked because you were the best of the best. Maverick needed that Y/N, he was going to get that Y/N.
“I hear you Maverick.” You stood up, ready to rejoin the group.
“Good. And no, you still can’t switch teams.”
“Mav!” You eyed him angrily before returning to the game. Mentally preparing yourself for what Hangman was going to tease you with next.
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You knew you couldn’t ignore it anymore when the Dagger Squad met for drinks at the bar and your eyes couldn’t seem to be taken away from the blond man. You now knew you didn’t have a type before you made it to this camp. But now you did. Jake Seresin was your type, just your type. You were entering week three of training, things have kicked up by about a hundred notches. Mav constantly reminding the team that it was life or death, day in and day out. He had to prove to the team it could be done. Boy, did he show off. Doing the whole course in under 2 minutes and 15 seconds.
You learned later that day that he was selected Team Captain. You saw how disappointed Jake was when it was announced. Mav decided to take his time selecting teams. The whole squad was in an all-out Dogfighting war during training, for the next few days at least. You were tired yet you refused to show it, having to prove yourself once again. You could see how exhausted the whole squad was, tonight was needed. Mav gave you the weekend to recover before one last session on Monday where he would announce teams. You were nervous. You had flown the course with a wizzo and without. Proving your capability with both. You desperately wanted to be picked. You were still nervous about the whole situation though, who wouldn’t be? One mistake and you could be dead. No pressure.
Jake noticed your eyes on him. He couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face. He might have managed to crack you, just a bit. He played it cool though. Wanting you to make the first move. He wanted to see if you crack or not. He did want you. He had never been so matched before. He was also sure he would never meet somebody who could put him in his place quite like you did. You beat him more often than not in the air. He was amazed by your flying. Only Mav was able to beat you and even then, you had come close a few times only to be outsmarted by the old-timer. You also challenged him when both feet were on the ground. You didn’t piss him off like most people did when they challenged him, he tried to become better.
He knew he really had liked you when you told Rooster off for the stupid death spiral that he and Maverick were in. You were the only one that was able to get through to Rooster as your words really cut like ice, your dad shining through. He watched curiously as Rooster walked away like a sad puppy, tail tucked between his legs. You, you were fuming. He was sure he hasn’t seen you so mad. You let out the most frustrated groan as you lightly punched the wall. Not stupid like the boys before you who had broken their hands on the cement behind it. He watched as you leaned against the walls collecting yourself. You took a moment before you stood back up fixing your uniform. You turned and spotted Hangman standing there giving him an awkward hello before walking away quickly. Yeah, he liked you. He liked you more than he really cared to admit.
He brought you over your favorite beer on tap sliding it to you as he sat at the high-top opposite you. You smiled thanking him and took a big swig from the glass, “Rough day?” Jake asked eyes softening just slightly.
“Nah, I’m okay.” You spoke, “Just been thinking about the mission, that’s all.”
He bobbed his head seemingly agreeing with you, “Kazansky scared? I’ll be.” He grinned giving you some much needed shit.
“Shut up, Hangman. You know that’s not what I meant.”
He laughed softly nodding in agreement, “I know Y/N. Some serious stuff.”
“You could say that again.” You downed some more of it, nearly finishing the glass in two drinks, “I guess you could say I am a little scared.” You admitted quietly waiting for him to interrupt. When it didn’t come you continued, “I’ve known Mav my entire life and I’ve never seen him like this before Jake.”
“That’s why were here.” He tried to cheer you up.
“I know.” You sighed finishing the beer off. Hangman was impressed, he was only a few drinks in. “It doesn’t make it any less frightening.”
“Shit, Y/N.” He spoke delicately, you traced your eyes up his body to his face wanting to hear what he had to say. He continued when he had your full attention, “You’re on of the best pilots I know. You might be better than me. If you repeat that I will deny it so don’t even try it.” He smirked continuing on, “You were born for this mission. Don’t let Mav freak you out. Go be that confident Lava in the sky, that you can’t be stopped.” He breathed out looking at you happily.
Stunned. You were stunned. And you were a hundred percent your face looked just as stunned as you felt. You were computing his words, yet it didn’t make sense coming from him. Soft Jake? Sweet Jake? You weren’t going to sit here and deny it. Especially because he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he took your glass and told you he was getting you another. He left you with that.
He was showing you a different side of him. You had seen the softened facial expressions and knew when he let up when you two were going at it. But this, this Jake was different. You were sure he was showing his true self to you. He came back and slid the beer over to you like he did the first time, smoother than ever.
“Thanks Jake. For the beer, for everything.” You smiled softly to him. You took your time looking at him curiously, fully drinking him in. Gosh, was he beautiful. He had that damn toothpick in his mouth. You loved that damn toothpick. You loved when he smiled with it too, his dimples always showed when he did. You could hardly take the green eyed, dimpled combination that was in front of you all too often. Mav was right, you needed to tell him, you were struggling keeping this one from him.
“Anything for you Kazansky.” He said without a bit of sarcasm in his voice. A chill ran down your spine, you were sure these physical reactions were going to give you away at any time now. You sat back slightly wondering how in the hell the Hangman had wrapped you so tightly around his finger. You were hooked. Truly hooked on every word he spoke, every look he gave you. How had he done that to you in less than three weeks? You weren’t sure. You didn’t really care either. Your head was already exploding in fear from the mission but with something else entirely when you thought of Hangman, something foreign to you.
“I like soft Jake.” You fluttered your eyes, clueless to the effect you were having on him. He too was utterly fascinated by your presence. He also wasn’t sure what you had done to him. But he sure well knew he would do just about anything for you. He was so drawn to every aspect of you. Your delicate smile you gave everyone and the genuine one you threw his way every now and then. Your calm and collected demeanor in the air, even when Mav beats up on you. Your sweet eyes and all the emotions you tried (but failed) to hide from him. He didn’t really want to wait on you anymore. He just wanted to tell you exactly how he felt so he could hold you, feel you, take you in.
“I like you. You know.” He admitted so nonchalantly you did a double take.
You sucked in a breath so taken aback by his admission to you, “You what?”
“Like you, Kazansky. A lot. I like you a lot. A lot a lot.” He grinned moving himself to the seat next you. He took one of your hands in his, picking your hand up so gently.
“You do?” You whispered, dumbfounded really.
“Don’t act so surprised Y/N. You’re incredible.” He kissed the back of your hand softly. Your heart nearly jumped out of your throat.
“Okay.” You nodded wanting to slap yourself in the face. Okay? Okay, was that all you had? You took a second longer to process what he was really saying, “You like me.”
He laughed scooting even closer, not dropping your hand but squeezing it instead, “I do Kazansky.”
“Well, that’s good.” You gave him that genuine Y/N smile he desired to see once more.
He chuckled inching even closer, your chairs were touching now, “That’s good.” He repeated back to you.
Realizing how dumb you were sounding you continued, “I like you too, Jake.”
He gave you his genuine Jake smile. You could’ve melted right then and there. You had to remind yourself that your fellow classmates were not too far off, “I know.”
You shook your head in response to that cockier than thou attitude, “Course you did.”
He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face, “It’s nice to hear you say it though, darling.”
You eyed your surroundings, not forgetting where you were. You were going to melt into this man and the wrong person was bound to see. You pulled him out of his chair pointing to the door. He grabbed the beers following you out of the bar as casually as possible. You found a spot on the back patio away from any prying eyes.
“Sorry, it felt… claustrophobic in there.”
He pulled you down, so you were sitting on his lap. You felt so self-conscious when he did so. Your breathing became uneven. He could feel your apprehension. Slower, he noted. He was excited to get to know you better. You were unlike any woman he’s ever met. He didn’t want to screw it up by doing something your uncomfortable.
“I should have asked. I’m sorry Kazansky.” He whispered in your ear trying to make you more comfortable. A full body shiver erupted when he did so. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. He just ran his hands across your back willing you into his embrace.
“S’kay.” You mumbled falling into his touch almost immediately. You relaxed against his chest quickly feeling at home in his arms. You fought to keep your eyes open, but they didn’t want to listen.
You felt him laugh softly as he moved his hands up and down your back. Seeing just how easy it was to get you to relax into him, “It’s only nine sweetheart.” The sun had begun its decent for the evening casting a beautiful array of oranges and pinks into the sky.
“Way past my bedtime.” You mumbled into his chest. You instinctively curled yourself closer into him. You took a long deep breath in smiling as you smelled him. He smelled so good to you, even after a long day he smelled so good, so Jake.
“Let’s get you home then.” Before he could shift you shook your head.
“No, please.” You sighed looking up to him. He was looking at you so lovingly. The droopiest eyes you’ve seen on him yet. It felt like every nerve on you was on fire, not feeling so tired anymore, “Just a few more minutes, you’re so comfy.” You dopily smiled to the lovestruck man holding onto you.
“Like I said earlier, anything for you Kazansky.”
You lit up at him, “Which reminds me, you’re going to have to meet my dad.”
He looked like he lost a shade off his tan as you reminded him. He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, “He’ll love me, promise darling.”
“We’ll see about that Jake.”
“We sure will.” He kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer.
-
Part 2
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Text
Father Figure (S.R.)
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Summary: Spencer discusses daddy issues. His boss, who is also his girlfriend’s father, has a question. Request: Reader is hotch's daughter and after hotch learns that they are dating their interactions are kind of weird in a funny way Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Mild awkwardness Word Count: 900
MASTERLIST
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The jet ride to a crime scene is rarely a pleasant experience. Each team member holds their folders filled with horrors, and they display an abject apathy. After all, they are quite familiar with the worst side of humanity. Some days, though, when the worst crimes are still hypothetical and the victims are alive, the team can maintain some semblance of their usual personality.
Spencer is usually the first one to share something interesting about the theoretical or identified unsub. This is because he has a broad knowledge on, well, most things, and he also manages to read through the stack of papers much quicker and with a greater detail than the others.
This day, however, Spencer is silent. And everyone knows why.
Because just one measly week ago, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner found out that Spencer Reid was dating his daughter.
Beyond the initial, incredibly uncomfortable conversation, Hotch had barely spoken a word about it. A fool might think that meant he has no qualms with it, but Spencer knows him better than that.
No, it is infinitely more likely that Hotch is stewing in his rage about his daughter’s Freudian taste in men. Hotch is just too smart to strike without the possibility of maximal damage.
So, Spencer knows to keep his guard up.
But he never could keep a thought to himself, could he?
Derek lets out a deep breath with a soft whistle before he tosses his folder onto the desk beside him. As the others peek up at him, he shakes his head with an enthused but horrified expression.
“Talk about ‘daddy issues,’” Derek mutters.
The others smirk in response, but they say nothing else.
Until, inevitably, Spencer does.
“The correct term would be ‘father complex,’” he says with an attempt to sound disinterested in one of his favorite philosophers, “It was a shared theory between Freud and Jung, and it’s actually very interesting.”
No one says a word. Spencer does not notice the warnings flashing in their eyes because he is too afraid to accidentally look at Hotch.
They all know what’s coming.
He continues, anyway.
“While Freud was more interested in how men might become distrusting or intimidated by older male authorities, Jung extended his analysis to women with emotionally or physically absent fathers.”
Despite the roaring engines and the full cabin, the jet is silent. If Spencer had looked up then, he would have seen how everyone immediately glances over at Hotch.
Hotch, however, maintains his stoic stare. He is looking directly at Spencer, who is still staring at the document in the folder he has already read several times over.
“There’s a more contemporary term for the phenomenon that would probably be more fitting,” Spencer announces.
“Really?” Emily asks. The rhetorical question is dripping with sarcasm in a final attempt to stop him. 
Spencer is so lost in thought at this point that he does not even notice. Instead, he marches on to his downfall.
“It’s called ‘Father hunger,’” he explains coolly, “and it explains the over-trust in authority figures and the search for an older man that reminds them of the father they never had.”
“Are you talking about yourself or my daughter?”
Every muscle in Spencer’s body seizes at the question. Quickly, he raises his head to find himself trapped in the paralyzing, disapproving stare of Aaron Hotchner.
“What?” he squeaks.
The man does not answer.
“N-No! No, I was just explaining the origins of the term,” he insists.
He tries—but fails—not to think about you. Just one remark, one casual reminder of your existence makes his skin ripple with goosebumps. Overcome with guilt—but never regret—his mind tugs forward every memory shared between the two of you.
The smell of your perfume, the softness of your lips, the comfort he finds in your arms.
His life is flashing before his eyes and every part of it looks like you.
He raises his hands in surrender before he sputters, “I would never—!”
“Reid,” your father commands.
Your boyfriend flinches.
“It’s a joke,” Hotch says just before he smiles.
Immediately, Spencer is surrounded by familiar smiles. He feels the visceral pain of a joke made at his expense while at the same time, he is cloaked with relief.
“Funny joke,” he says under his breath.
Hotch detects the sarcasm but decides to let it go.
He had won the exchange, after all.
Spencer also tries to let it go. Because if this was the height of Hotch’s rage over the ultimate violation of his home life, he’d basically gotten away with murder.
Still, he can’t shake the burning red blush. That and the trembling from the adrenaline felt almost permanent.
Just as the thought occurs to him, Derek takes a seat beside him.
He leans closer even as Spencer leans away.
Then, in the quietest whisper, he asks, “Which one of you does she call daddy?”
Yes, Spencer realizes. The blush is going to be permanent.
“Stop talking,” he orders with a startlingly amount of finality.
From across the table, Emily provides Derek with the audience he wanted. Her giggles alone assuage his desire to make Spencer’s day just a little bit more chaotic.
The two relent. Spencer is alone with his thoughts again, and he wonders whether he will ever feel at home in his new position.
But then he thinks of you, and he knows that he is exactly where he is meant to be.
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(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)
If you're looking for more to read, check out my full-length smut story "My Boss's Daughter," where Reader is Hotch's daughter that is in love with Spencer!
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Thanks for reading!
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fallingdownhell · 1 month
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May I request Yae Miko, Dehya, Cyno and Childe getting defensive/angry/protective (whatever you see fit) about someone saying they deserve better then their s/o because they aren't in the best physical shape? (Be that being fat, disabled ect.)
Honestly? It felt so self indulgent writing some of this, especially Dehya's part, so thank you for requesting it<3 Also, since I'm writing about some conditions I'm not affected with, please let me know if I missrepresent any of it, and I'll immediately change it! Characters Included: Cyno; Dehya; Childe Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; various conditions on reader: being deaf/overweight/in a wheelchair; mean comments being made by others; characters defending reader; does that count as comfort??; not proofread yet Word count: 1,6k words Enjoy<3
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Cyno
being deaf was never the handicap to you as others would probably see it
of course, it was difficult, learning to interact with the world and the people around you when you could not hear any of it, but rather than seeing it as a hindrance, you saw it as a challenge, one that you were determined to overcome
now, as an adult, things were going pretty well for you. Most the people you often interact with know about your condition, so they tend to be more patient when conversing with you
growing up, you began learning sign language to communicate with the people around you, as well as reading their lips. Over the years, you got more and more fluent in the language, so this was working out pretty well for you
Cyno, upon first meeting you, was fascinated by the way you percieve and interact with the world
despite the fact that you were not able to hear anything at all, you were the most lively person he's ever met, always smiling and laughing at everything and everyone around you, always seeing the good
after first meeting you, he immediately went and started to learn sign language as well. He had this desire to be close to you and spend more time with you, and he thought, in order to better communicate with you, he should learn how to talk to you
Now, a few years later, you've been in a relationship with Cyno for quite some time, and he could honestly say, that he's never been happier in his life
you brighten each of his days, simply by existing within his proximity, your smile was contagious and he often found himself just staring at you, never getting tired of your beauty
however, sometimes, there tend to be voices that question the relationship you have. Mostly people who didn't know you all that well, asking Cyno how he could even be with someone who could not hear a word he said
While he did pity those people, he always jumped to defend you. You may not be able to hear, but that didn't mean you were any less than anyone else in this world. In his eyes, it's just another thing about you that made you unique
It was always like this. Whenever anyone was talking bad about you, or telling Cyno that he should find a better partner, he always defended you, claiming that there would never be someone better than you
and if those idiotic people still don't get it by the lovestruck way he talks about you and continue to pester him, Cyno can get annoyed very quickly, not hesitating to draw his weapon on them
he wouldn't actually fight them, but the possibility of it being there scared them enough to run with their tails between their legs
but, at the end of the day, he never tells you about those encounters he has, not wanting to bring down your mood with it. He'd much rather enjoy the stories you have to tell him each day when he comes home to you
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Dehya
when people were thinking about Dehya, they thought of a strong, independent woman, beautiful, smart and capable of many things. They respected her, and many wished to become the person by her side
when rumors came about of Dehya having a partner, people began to talk among themselves, guessing on who it could possibly be and what they would look like
No doubt would someone like her only settle for a partner just as good looking, smart and strong as herself, right?
well.. let's just say, the day you and Dehya became public with your relationship was a very... tough one
People knew you as being one of the most trusted merchants of Caravan Ribat. And while they all agreed on you being a very likeable and easygoing person, many of them also made fun of you behind your back, for the simple fact of you being overweight
a fact that you had always struggled with since your childhood. You've tried a many great ways to loose weight, yet either nothing worked or only had very short lived success
eventually, you gave up hope and stopped trying, instead learning to love and accept yourself for who you are
And exactly that love you held for yourself is what drew Dehya to you in the first place, eventually falling in love with all of you. Sometimes, you yourself couldn't believe that she actually loved you, questioning how you got so lucky. But not like you were complaining about it
Still, the glances and whispers people threw your way when you were walking through the streets, hand in hand with Dehya, often brought you down, knowing exactly what they were talking about
but anytime that happened, Dehya jumped right in, telling those people off, yelling at them to mind their own damn business. And it always worked as they hurried away, afraid of her wrath coming their way
whenever this happened, she'd always comfort you afterwards, knowing that, despite everything, words like that still hurt and weighed down on you. She'd then always tell you how much she loved you, how beautiful you were to her, pointing out everything she loved about you. It always helped to brighten your mood again
then one day, it just so happened that while you were out on a date with Dehya, someone decided to be bold and walk up to Dehya, finally speaking out loud what everyone was thinking
"Dehya.. why exactly are you with them?", he would ask, voice timid and quiet, yet he just had to ask
"You got a problem with my choice in parner, huh?", Dehya spoke up, ready to defend you against the entire world if she had to. She stood up from her place, standing in front of the guy as it almost seemed like she got ready for a fist fight
"N-no! I just meant... they don't.. exactly... suit you..", the guy tried to argue, but realised that with every word, he was just more and more digging his own grave
at this point, Dehya was fed up. She did not care for any onlookers as she beat up the guy. Once he was on the ground and apologizing profusely to her, she let go of him, instead addressing the crowd that had gathered around them
"Okay, everyone listen up because I'm not gonna repeat myself after this! They are my parnter, and I do not care what any of you think or have to say about it. It's my choice and you all better shut up about it, or I'll beat you up just like I did this punk!", she yelled and pointed at the guy still on the ground, blood running from his nose and mouth. Pretty sure she made him loose a teeth or two
surprisingly, after this encounter, people stopped commenting behind your back, your days becoming much calmer and more enjoyable since than. And even if you might not agree with Dehya's actions, you couldn't deny that it did have a positive outcome
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Childe
most people would suspect that a person as active in their day to day life as Childe, would want a parnter that is at least similar to them in that way
yet, when they find out that his significant other is actually disabled and in a wheelchair, they can't hide the surprised sounds and expression on their faces
they can't possibly imagine how a relationship like that would last very long, seeing as the two of you would be polar opposites
oh boy, would they be surprised to find out that you and Childe have been going strong for several years now. Sure, you were not able to walk and sometimes, in specific situations, dependent on him, but those are also the moments Childe loved, when he got to show his strength when lifting you up or doing something else for you
at first, you felt stupid for having to rely on him in those specific situations, since you always strived to be as independent as possible, despite your situation. Yet Childe always comforted you, telling you that it wasn't a weakness at all to ask for help every now and then. On the contrary, knowing when you need help can be a great strength. So, that's how you decided to see things from then on, and it did help you a lot
and even though you were bound to this chair, that did not stop the enjoyment you held towards life. You loved traveling around, exploring the world and expieriencing it first hand
it helped a lot that Childe got to travel around a lot thanks to his work, so you'd always ask to accompany him. Of course, there were times where he couldn't do so, but most of the time, he was happy to take you along and show you all the places he knows about, and even discovering new ones with you
whenever he couldn't take you along on his travels, he'd always come back with a tone of souvenirs for you, along with so many stories to tell you that never failed to grab your attention, wishing that you could have been there with him
overall a very good, very protective boyfriend
the first few times he heard people talking about the two of you behind your backs, he went over to them, drawing his weapons, ready to kill whoever dared talk bad about you in his presence
word spread around quickly and soon, no one dared even mutter a word about your relationship, in fear that the Harbinger might catch wind of it and came hunting after them, ready to take their lives
Childe did not mind that reputation at all. He was already known as a battlehungry maniac, and if it meant people left you alone, not having to worry about ill intended comments, than all the better. He can handle it
the most important thing to him is, and always will be, your well being
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fangirltothefullest · 22 days
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Hey. Hey you. Yes you! If you are planning on having kids or if you already do and they are young (as in they're 3rd grade and younger) read your kids stories. Stop handing them the internet and READ THEM STORIES.
Bored? Grab a book.
Don't know what to do? Give them a book.
Read to them while they draw or colour.
Still little? Read to them while they are taking a bath.
Read to them once a week on Fridays for Story Night.
Read to them before bed.
Read to them at breakfast.
Whenever you can, read to them!
Curriculum doesn't teach your children how to have morals and how to problem solve, books with interesting stories do. Parents are super busy and juggling all the moral teaching is hard when you're busy- have them read! It does some of it for you!
Want your kids to do better than the generation I'm teaching? Read to them. Read to them whenever you can so they learn to love it. Make books of all kinds available. Make them read fantasy, make them read fiction, make them read science fiction, make them read realistic fiction, make them read about dragons and heroes, friends and dilemmas, make them read about warrior cats and the children of gods, heroic mice and people overcoming bullies, teen dramas and kid crushes, knights and cursed princes, faerietales and stories about princesses saving their brothers from being swans. Books with worm professors and spooky stories for the campfire that walk about lawn weenies and plonking children down the slide, stories of British children stranded on an island, and people cursed being set free with true loves kiss. Stories with mermaids and krackens or a dog thats a cowboy who saves the day. Stories of small mice having adventures or people with hidden secrets. Stories of children going through tough childhoods and children finding themselves or new understanding. Stories of funny little women who defeat the oni with laughter or what's beyond Z for Zebra.
Children are force-fed information-based/fact-based readings in their classrooms, filling their minds with the ability to parse data from what they read and answer it word for word on a test.
But the morals, the learning how to navigate life with each other, the building of relationships ships be it friend or foe, context ans meaning come from reading stories and relating to or understanding the characters, context and subtleties of emotions they face in books.
It's been this way since the dawn of time.
Please for the love of all that is good, don't slap a screen in front of your child to occupy them. Give them a book and let them get lost in a story. It's way healthier and helps them read better, helps them understand speech patterns, helps them understand spelling intuitively, helps them problem solve, helps them understand how to people, helps them with right and wrong, helps with morality, helps with contextualizing, helps them differentiate between real vs fake people and how to empathise with something even if its not real, helps them navigate the world with a broader and more open mind.
All tiktok and the internet/social media does is provide eons of the worst unfiltered, non-kid-friendly drivel and cruelty you could ever imagine.
I'm begging you to please think of their future because I'm teaching children raised on screens and so few books and they do not know how to people and they're so far behind in literacy at all and they open a book and if it's not immediately interesting on the first sentence it's "boring" and ignored.
I sound like a boomer but please I'm begging you make your kids read books from the time they are little.
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vitzi9 · 11 months
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Pretty when you cry
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Ethan Landry x GN!Reader
Masterlist if you want to read my other things.
content warning: manipulative ethan; stalking; obsessive; maybe sub!Ethan; mention of murder; he's still ghostface; guilt trapping; worshiping; knife
English is not my first language sorry guys, if i did any grammatical mistakes lmk !
2924 words (7/05/2023)
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"Hi" he said simply. As if we were speaking to each other for the first time, but in the same tone with which one greets an old friend. It was ironic how I wished for weeks for him to come and talk to me and when he finally did, all I thought about was running away. He hadn't changed. And so much the better. He was still so handsome. Today, he wore a white shirt and a kind of jeans in a shade between dark gray and black. After taking a brief tour of his outfit, I look up at his face: the most beautiful part of his person. His frizzy curls looked fresh, as if he had just washed them. This thought was confirmed by the smell of shampoo that came to me on a light breeze. His cheeks were tinged with a pale pink that highlighted the small and discreet freckles that sported his cheeks. His gaze escaped mine, watching the floor with a strange and sudden interest as he pressed his lips together in a thin line. He was embarrassed, no, dead of shame. After all, I still hadn't answered him. I've only watched him so far. And I surely would have continued if I hadn't noticed his shaking hands.
What am I supposed to say to him? I greet him too, I compliment him? I ask him directly why he came to talk to me? After all, the only times we had spoken was to get him to tutor me. Are we even friends? After he stood me up without any explanation, approximately two weeks ago now, we haven't spoken to each other since.
“Hi” I simply replied. Ethan scratches his cheek as he smiles nervously at me, his gaze flicking briefly above me to look behind me. The redness on his cheeks getting worse.
“You uh… Your classes, how are you doing ? I… Like, you're good ?”
To be honest, it wasn't. Which is the main reason as to why I was asking him for lessons, by the way. So he knows all about those four out of twenty that I love so much. (Wrong, I hate them, I just don't have the IQ to have more) How handsome he was. Earlier this year, I had this fantasy where Ethan, who I hadn't spoken to at the time, came up to me and asked me out. Later, having learned about his shyness, I dreamed of seeing him overcome his bashfulness to come and declare his love for me while stuttering.
"I manage. And you ? Are you able to follow the program?
Of course he did. We are talking about Ethan Landry, the best student in the whole establishment. He succeeds in everything. Except talking to people, it seems. For the umpteenth time now, he glances over my shoulder. His eyes alternated with bewildering speed between my face and what was behind my back. Finally, I turn to see the only person in the hallway besides us, Chad, watching us with a big smile on his face and thumbs up. He lowers his arms the second my eyes notice him and he puts his hands in his pockets, pretending to turn around.
"Isn't that Chad?" I knew it was him, Ethan's best friend. But I just wanted confirmation.
-N-no aha, it’s… I don’t know who… It’s not Chad.” His laugh was forced and it showed. He was staring at the ceiling, shrugging and laughing nervously. Too smiley to be true. If he weren't already incredibly uncomfortable and flushed, his friend's intervention would have caused him to be.
"Why did you come talk to me Ethan?"
Our last discussion was two weeks ago. We had seen each other on Tuesday for my private lessons and it had gone incredibly well. He had scheduled a session for Thursday, of which I was counting every second until D-Day. I was smiling just reading our messages over and over again. Then Thursday arrived after an endless wait. I headed for the library, as usual. My smile glued to my lips, impossible to remove. I was on cloud nine. But Ethan was late, yet he had never been with me. I waited and waited and waited but after an hour and a half I left. He hadn't sent a message, nothing. Since then, not a word has been exchanged. In the hallways, not even a single look had been shared. We walked ignoring each other, like strangers.
"I'm sorry.
-For what ?"
I had some idea why he was sorry but I didn't want to get my hopes up. His eyes water, he opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Ethan extends his hand towards me which I grab by reflex. To be honest, he was starting to worry me. Was he really going to cry? Was it because of me?
“Ethan, are you okay? I forgive you if this is what bothers you so much but please don't put yourself in such a state. Do you want me to walk you home? I'll tell the teacher that you are not feeling well.” As I said that, I adopted the softest voice I could muster.
The curly man holds my hand, he intertwines our fingers together. His tears finally running down his cheeks. A few tears escape him.
“No… he almost sighs.
-'no' what ? I ask, worried.
-I'm not feeling well…"
My concern increases considerably. Forget him which stood me up. His state is much more worrying. Without really thinking about it, my hand rests on his shoulder. I start guiding him to the exit but he seems to realize it. He plants his feet on the ground, shakes his head, then grabs my hand resting on his shoulder.
Ethan was keeping me here.
He raises his angel eyes to me. He was so handsome. His pupils were glowing. The boy opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Frustrated, his tears seem to intensify. He lowers his head, his beautiful curls falling in front of his eyes that I love so much.
"Ethan, you can tell me anything."
I was hoping he would open up to me a bit more. We were close, certainly not like best friends, but I considered myself loyal enough not to snitch his problems to everybody. Plus, I wasn't lying. He could tell me anything, I will help him as best I can. Ethan runs his thumbs over the backs of my hands, a slight smile on his lips. For a second, he seemed at peace.
“My love… he whispers and I almost thought I was dreaming.
But this peace does not last
-What ?
"I..." His lips quivered.
Did he really call me 'my love'? My heart was beating wildly. He sniffles and tries to swallow back his tears, to no avail. Finally, Ethan snaps.
“I…I can't sleep anymore, I can't do it anymore! he exclaims between two cries. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. I miss you, I want to continue to give you private lessons, even my homework if necessary. I'lldo them for you. Everything, I'll do everything for you…” he had spoken so quickly that he was out of breath. His tears had not stopped, quite the contrary. He had let go.
His sudden outbusrt make me retreat for a split second. The curly man's hands squeeze mine tightly, as if to keep me from moving further away. I don't understand, my absence has affected him so much? Why didn't he come talk to me sooner, then? And since when does he feel that way about me? His words were excessive and I thought he was going a little too fast. He was so desperate that he saw my face all the time? That he was willing to do 'everything' for me? I thought that my crush was not reciprocated, worse, than he considered me as a simple classmate. If I expected that! But where does this outburst come from?
“Breathe Ethan, breathe.”
Like a child, Ethan nods. He tried to calm his breathing while I tried to slow my heartbeat. I knew Ethan hadn't had a lot of conquests in his life, but I never would have imagined him to be so dependent.
"I'm sorry, really sorry...
-Why are you apologizing?
-I left you alone, I swear I haven't forgotten you. I've been thinking about you all the while i was doing it...
So he was really apologizing for that. But why is he making a fuss about it? I had already imagined this scenario and honestly, I expected an apology, a justification and that was it. Why was he so affected? That guilty? His words got mixed up and in the end, I lost track.
- It's okay Ethan, it's not that important. Is that what stresses you out so much?
- What can I do to make you forgive me?
-Ethan, I already told you, I forgive you, it doesn't matter.
-No, he shakes his head, tell me.
Feeling that if I didn't take matters into my own hands the situation was never going to end, I decided to ask for a simple favor.
-Where were you that day? I ask, alluding to the day he stood me up.
-That's stupid." Despite his words, I give a nod encouraging him to continue. Promise me not to be afraid.
-Why would I be afraid of you Ethan? I ask, laughing softly. He's an angel, how can you be afraid of him?
-Promise me."
His fingers gripped my wrist tightly. It almost hurt me. For a moment, the thought that indeed Ethan could scare me crossed my mind. However, I thought of it too late.
-I was supposed to be only ten minutes late, and I apologize for that, but you had to be outside your room for me to get in it.
-What ? I ask laughing, not understanding where he was coming from.
-When I got in your room, there was a perfume that was not yours. But I had already felt it somewhere, on someone. And… I-I'm sorry that pissed me off and… I-I thought you were cheating on me and I was scared and… I cried but I kept smelling the perfume of that-
-Ethan, stop here, I don't understand anything. What are you talking about? I was no longer laughing, the strange details he gave me seemed too precise.
His tears flow, without warning, he takes me in his arms and presses me to his chest. He hugged me tightly, I almost couldn't breathe. His face plunges into my neck, which he was soaking with his tears. He kept saying he was sorry over and over while I tried to understand. Was he telling the truth?
-I felt so guilty for hurting them that I didn't dare come and talk to you. I was terrified that you would run away from me when you eventually find out. It was horrible. Never again. Never part from me again, I beg you. I'll die of it.
I felt his every word knock against the skin of my neck. He was whispering, as if telling me a secret. And maybe it was. I was praying that another student would come down the hall and see us but the odds were low, very low. Ethan had cornered me at the end of my class, everyone had left. The sun was already falling asleep outside the window. Panic quickly set in within me.
-Ethan you're crushing me! I wasn't even sure he heard me since buried in his chest, my voice was muffled.
-I thought you were cheating on me b-but… I’m sorry for thinking that, sorry sorry sorry sorry...
What did he do ? Who was he talking about when he said “having hurt them”? Where is the shy Ethan who softened my heart? Unconsciously, I start to shake. My arms try to tear themselves away from the grip he had on them but he was crushing me too hard; I couldn't move. His arms clung to mine along my body.
-I should never be mad at you again, ever again. Do you forgive me ?
That's when it comes back to me; the framework. Coming home the evening of the day Ethan and I ended our relationship, my frame was splintered to the ground. The shards of glass had been flying all over my room. The photo remained intact; a picture of me and my roommate, but the frame was dead. I hadn't given more importance than that to the situation itself, my window was open and then said roommate was at home during the day. I just thought that a draft had knocked it down or that my friend was clumsy: it happens after all.
No, it was him.
-Ethan, I speak in a shaky voice, please let me go.
-No ! he yells. You promised me ! You promised me you wouldn't be afraid of me!
-E-Ethan please….
- I'm sorry, i'm sorry !
Ethan, six feet tall, collapses to his knees in front of me. He buries his face in my stomach, his arms wrapping around my waist. He speaks in my skin, muttering countless excuses and promises. Immediately seizing the opportunity, I grab him by the shoulders and push him with all my might to the ground. Surprised, he let me go. His back hits the floor, he lets out a plaintive moan mixed with his cries. Without thinking, I turn my back to flee. But Ethan is strangely fast. He gives me a powerful kick in the shin which in turn makes me fall on my stomach.
Ethan is crying. His cheeks are drowned in tears and red. I don't find him as handsome as before when he slightly pulls up his t-shirt to pull a knife out of his pants.
"Why are you doing this to me ?" he growled, his face lowered to the ground. So far, he's let it go. But there, his energy had changed. He was a murderer.
I crawl on the ground, moving away from him, my eyes filled with terror. I'm gonna die. I'm going to die here, alone, killed by the boy I loved. Ethan towered over me, taking small steps towards me.
“I'm begging you…” I cried.
I was desperate, there were no more solutions. I thought, as I disappeared, maybe Chad would figure out who my killer was, since he was the last one to see me other than Ethan.
"You told me you wouldn't be scared..." he pouted as he crouched down on top of me. Afterwards, his actions keep surprising me as he sits on my pelvis. He had fun bringing his knife to my neck and caressing me with it. The coldness of the metal makes my hair stand on and shivers appear all over my body.
"Ethan, please take that away from me... yelling at him wouldn't get me anywhere, so I was begging.
- No, don't be afraid. You know very well that I would never hurt you.”
His promises, I wanted no more. I wanted him to leave me alone, forever. My hands were free, yet I no longer controlled them. They were completely flat on the ground. I couldn't lift a single finger.
“Do you want me to prove my devotion to you? the curly boy points the knife at him.
The sharp tip of the weapon is now to his throat. Ethan looks at me and smiles. His free hand lay comfortably flat on my chest, holding me firmly to the floor. The vision unfolding in front of me was horrific. I was praying that he wouldn't be able to take his own life in front of me, on top of me! I didn't want to see it though, my eyes refused to look away. I was terrified that he would plunge his knife in me without warning.
- You love me too, right? he asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb. Tell me that you love me. You love me so much, my love. You love me so much you're ready to die for it.
-Ethan listen…
-Answer." he orders.
The roles had switched. He had given me a position of superiority, adoring me, throwing himself at my feet for even a pardon, but he was sick of it. And now not even my pleas will reach him.
“Imagine how romantic that would be, huh? May the students meet us tomorrow morning, both dead and entwined. It would be wonderful.” His smile was that of a sick man. What more do you need, my death? You want me to stick this pretty little knife in my heart for you? That I tear it down and give it to you as an offering? Come on, tell me you love me. I know you do.”
Finally, I manage to close my eyes. His description had managed to repel me enough to allow my brain to kick in the survival instinct. Ethan laughs mischievously. I feel him move, all his weight crushing my body. His lips settle on my neck for a second.
“You want me to kill myself, huh? I'll kill myself because of you. All because you don't love me. How can you be so selfish? he kisses my cheek. Tell me you love me, my love. I need it. His thumb passes over my eyelid gently, making me open my eyes.
I knew I was stuck. He was one step ahead of me, physically and mentally speaking. He had me stuck. My eyes were red and swollen.
-I… I love you… I whisper, choked cries leaving my mouth at the same time.
-Where is my first name, pretty ?
And to think that I was dreaming of saying those words to him a few minutes earlier.
-I… I love you Ethan… The curly man's face lights up, a gaping smile erasing his crazed expression.
- There, it wasn't so complicated now, was it?"
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That was my first story in english. please do not hesitate to gives me advices whatsoever, like if you think that the plot was too quick, ethan too out of character, not enough details, everything ! I hope you liked reading it anyways.
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eitaababe · 1 year
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Hiiii can i make a request for a possessive neteyam 🥹 i need one where he x reader argue, and he says something hurtful because he’s jealous and reader goes to leave the hut to cool off because she’s hurt but he makes it up to her ;) WINK WINK maybe a little touch of a begging neteyam as well hehe
Dirty filthy nasty talk as well sorry I’m done now LMAO
SOMEONE ELSE !
a/n — hi love! sorry i don't really feel comfortable writing smut with neteyam (or anyone lmao) just yet 😭 so i just made it a lil suggestive at the end i hope that's ok!! / also since the end is suggestive and implied to lead to something neteyam's aged up cause he's a minor and that would be awk🧍‍♂️
To say you and Neteyam were inseparable was practically an understatement. Ever since you'd met as kids, you always stuck together. You were there for each other when you got your ikrans, even, and you'd always go on rides together. A dynamic duo, people liked to call you.
So of course, when his family left the clan for the safety of everyone, you couldn't just let your mate leave you. So with some convincing and promising that the Sully's would take you in as their own, your parents reluctantly agreed, deciding you could choose your own future.
Though you missed the forrest, being by the ocean was something you'd never experienced before, and it was one of the most beautiful sights you've ever seen. There were so many creatures and the people were different in many ways, you were excited to learn about everything.
However, you grew less and less thrilled when you realized the time you spent with Neteyam would diminish to very little. He was always out and about, getting to ride his ilu and protecting his siblings from those in the village who looked down upon them. He was always so stressed, so tired, that when you did hang out, you always felt like a burden, or an argument would start.
So you started to keep your distance, and as a result, met new people and made new friends. You started to enjoy the presence of a boy named Rotxo, who was allegedly one of Ao'nung's friends. You were skeptic at first, not hearing so good things about his friend, but the more you got to know him, he became a trustworthy friend. He heard all about your struggles with Neteyam, always a good listener and giving good advice.
Although, Neteyam didn't see you and Rotxo's relarionship as anything friendly. In fact, whenever he spotted you two, he could be sulking for the rest of the day. Granted, it was his fault you two haven't been talking as much, and he could probably just have talked to you about it. But he didn't know how, and as a result, you'd found another person to fill his company.
Was he really that easy to replace?
Finally having enough, Neteyam wordlessly grabbed your arm, dragging you away mid-conversation with Rotxo. He ignored your protests and took to a secluded area, stopping only to be met with a harsh glare.
"What the hell, Neteyam?" You shouted, crossing your arms. Yikes. He didn't think that one through. "What's your problem? I was talking to him!"
"Well maybe I don't want you talking to him!"
"Why?" You inquired, annoyed at his antics. "You don't get to decide who I can and can't talk to. I'm my own person. Plus he's my friend. And he's been better company than you, as of late."
His heart dropped at the blow, knowing you were right. "It just makes me uncomfortable, okay? I don't like him being close to you."
"Oh, you don't like someone else enjoying my company? Sorry Neteyam, but I'm not going to wait around alone and close myself off from everyone else just because you refuse to talk to me! I happen to enjoy talking to Rotxo, and there's nothing you can do that will stop me."
"Fine then," he snapped, jealousy overcoming him. "Go! Go be with Rotxo. See if I care," he paused, sinking his fingers into the palms of his fists and unable to stop himself from digging an even bigger whole. "I have others who want my company. There's many metkayina women who would enjoy my presence."
Offended that he would say such a thing, you scoffed, not recognizing the man standing in front of you. "Fine then! Go be with another woman!"
"I will!" He responded without thinking, immediately regretting it when he saw the look on your face.
"I never want to see you again." You seethed, eyes glossy as you walked hastily away from him, leaving a regretful Neteyam.
The days that passed by all felt like a blur, your heart throbbing. Did he really mean that? Was he tired of you? Were you making a mistake when you decided to follow him and his family? Rotxo listened to all your worries, comforting you and helping you avoid Neteyam at all costs.
He kept looking for you, wanting a chance to apologize. He wishes he had just kept his mouth shut, or went after you once you walked away. The scene replayed in his head constantly, thinking of what he could've done different to make you not hate him.
So he waited until after eclipse, and when everyone else went to bed, he went out to the beach, knowing you would be there. You always enjoyed the solitude of nighttime, when nobody else was awake and you could watch the waves peacefully on your own.
Neteyam slowly made his way up to you, awkwardly clearing his throat to grab your attention. When you actually turned around and focused on him he was shocked, wide eyed and speechless. "Um, hi."
"Hi." you curtly responded, ready to leave when he grabbed your hand.
"Please, y/n. I want to apologize." He pleaded.
You gave him a look, as if saying to get on with it. He hesitated, not completely sure what to say. "I'm...i'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Any of it. I was jealous that you were spending more time with Rotxo."
You stayed silent still, making him nervous. "And I don't want another woman," he added, looking you dead in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it. You are the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. You are kind, sweet, loyal, and have been nothing but the best for me. I took that for granted, so when I saw you enjoying the company of another, it pissed me off. I cannot stand the thought of you being with someone who isn't me." he stopped, and you noticed his eyes starting to glimmer in the moonlight.
"I'm sorry. Truly. And if you don't forgive me I understand." Neteyam finally finished, his chest rising up and down shakily.
"Oh, ma Neteyam," you cooed, taking his face in your hands. You wiped away the tears that fell down his face with your thumbs, kissing where they fell. "I could never want anyone other than you. I just need you to talk to me next time, okay? No more keeping your problems from me. I'm here to help you with your burdens, not hide them."
The boy nodded wordlessly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "I promise, my love. I will never make you feel like I want someone else again."
He then trailed kisses down your jaw, lips softly moving over the skin of your neck. His teeth grazed over it, biting lightly. He chuckled from the soft sound that left your throat, kisses drifting down below your neck. He pressed you against a tree, knee separating your legs.
"Neteyam, not here." You breathed out, not making any attempt to stop him. But, you really didn't want to get caught by anyone in a public area like this.
"Shh, my love," he soothed, hands wafting towards your loincloth. "I'm gonna make it up to you, okay?"
Oh, you were in for a long night.
a/n — i literally had no idea how to write the ending i'm sorry if it's bad 🧍‍♂️
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cursedvibes · 3 months
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I absolutely hate the way fandom keeps misinterpreting this chart, especially in regards to Yuuji and Hakari. They just go "oh someone is bad at learning in a classroom setting? well they must be stupid and an absolute meathead". Zero consideration for why some people might do worse in academic settings or why one school has considerably "smarter" students than the other. Maybe it's not the students fault and maybe test scores aren't everything.
I'm gonna assume this person was just making a general statement about the Tokyo Trio group dynamic that wasn't meant to be that serious and worded it badly. That's why I'm writing this in a separate post. And again, this is more about a broader trend I see every time that chart gets passed around, not this specific person.
It just annoys me so much how they keep hammering in on Yuuji and Hakari being at the bottom and what that must mean about their overall mental capacity. Hakari was mistreated by the school, no wonder he didn't care about tests. In a day-to-day situation he's much smarter than Panda (three kids in a trenchcoat) or Megumi, but obviously that won't show here. Most people get overwhelmed as soon as he so much as attempts to explain his cursed technique and domain, but sure he's the dumb one. This shows he isn't even bad at regular learning topics, he just had no reason to care about this school.
Same with Yuuji. The fanbook this same chart is from shows he's good in regular high school, he just struggles with the more mathematical side of the STEM subjects. Getting physics lessons from Gojo sounds like a nightmare. Which brings me again to the phenomena that the students in Kyoto do overall much better than the one in Tokyo. If you have nobody to properly explain concepts to you, no shit you're not gonna do well and we have heard many times before that Gojo is a bad teacher. Yuuji learns very fast, we've seen it when he is together with Nanami, Todo and Kusakabe, it just all comes down to how you teach him. Although to be fair, the classroom teaching is also done by assistant directors and windows, who are probably too overworked to put much effort into it. So you have naturally the students already good at learning in this type of environment at the top, while everyone else gets left behind.
Besides that, Yuuji and Nobara have always been very good at thinking on their feet, especially when they are together. Just think their teamwork when fighting Eso and Kechizu or Mahito. In Mahito's case they didn't even see each other and it worked. Dumb Nobara figured out the Mahito she was fighting was a clone, dealt considerable damage to him and thereby helped Yuuji immensely. Anticipating the next steps of enemies and allies alike takes intelligence as well as analysing an opponents abilities and weaknesses like when Nobara turned Rot against Kechizu. Dumb little Yuuji is the sole reason there is even a coherent plan to save Megumi right now.
Yuuji and Nobara like to joke around and be goofy while Megumi is more reserved, but that doesn't make him smarter or them dumber that's just a part of their personality. Megumi being too much in his head and not appropriately judging risks and coming up with effective solutions for them was a whole thing he had to work on and overcome. Todo is also a good example that being a bit of a delinquent and silly guy doesn't say anything about smarts. He's probably just better at school learning (being trained by Yuki that would be partially a necessity) and also had better teachers.
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imarealnugget · 2 months
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Yuji Itadori when you're insecure
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Feat. Yuji Itadori
TW. fluff, insecureties, pet names (baby), sad emotions, Yuji Itadori x insecure female!reader
Words Count: 1.2k
Synopsis: while watching a movie with your boyfriend, Yuji Itadori, he asked you why did you seem upset, he's really good at reading your mind, he always understands when you're upset or not. You told him you had so many voices in your head and so may insecureties, so he helped you with simple actions that made you feel better; isn't he the best guy in the world?
It was a quiet evening, the dim light of the table lamp creating a cozy atmosphere in your home. As you and Yuji Itadori sat on the couch, embraced and immersed in watching a movie, your gaze often wandered into thoughts that had been tormenting your mind for days. Yuji noticed your distraction and placed his hand on your face, seeking your gaze. "Is something bothering you, baby?" he asked gently, his intense eyes filled with concern. You bit your lip, summoning the courage to share what was troubling you. "It's just that... I feel so insecure lately," you confessed, feeling the weight of your words. "It's like I'm not enough, like I'm constantly trying to reach a standard I can't define." His gaze softened, and with an encouraging smile, he said, "Baby, never say such a thing. You're perfect just as you are. There's no need to try to be someone else or meet unrealistic standards." But within you, the insistent voice of your insecurity continued to whisper, fueling doubt. "It's just that, sometimes, I feel like I'm not interesting enough for you. You're so strong, so courageous, and I... I feel so ordinary, so plain." Yuji took your face in his hands, making you look straight into his eyes. "Baby, there's nothing ordinary about you. You're extraordinary to me, exactly as you are. I've never desired anything different from you." His words were sweet, but you still felt inadequate. "And then there are the other girls," you confessed in a hushed voice. "The ones who are beautiful, skinnier.. who always seem to know what to do. Sometimes I wonder if you desire someone like that." His expression became serious, almost worried. "Baby, don't do this to yourself. I love you for the wonderful person you are. The others have nothing to do with us. Don't let their shadows overshadow our light." But your fears persisted, plunging you into a spiral of uncertainty. "What if I never manage to be enough? What if my fears prevent me from being the girl you deserve?" Yuji held you tighter, seeking to convey reassurance with his embrace. "Love, you're not alone in this. We're a team, remember? Together we can overcome anything. You are enough, more than enough. Don't let fear rob you of the joy of being yourself." You felt vulnerable, but his reassuring presence made you feel less alone in your tormented thoughts. "Thank you, Yuji," you whispered, trying to accept his comfort. His lips gently touched your forehead. "No need to thank me. We're here for each other, always. Your fears are real, but together we can face them. Never let them make you feel less than you're worth." The evening continued with confessions and love, and as Yuji tried to dispel your insecurities, you began to understand that the love you shared was stronger than any doubt. You had a partner who loved you for the unique person you were, with all your imperfections. And as you embraced Yuji's comfort, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could learn to love yourself as he did.
The following days were a mix of highs and lows. Despite Yuji's reassuring words, your insecurities continued to torment you. They were like little demons insinuating into your thoughts, undermining your self-esteem. One morning, while alone in the kitchen, you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your pants. It was a message from Yuji. "Y/n, how are you today?" he inquired, showing his constant concern for your well-being. "I don't know, Yuji," you replied honestly. "I still feel this fog of insecurity inside me." Yuji's response came almost instantly. "I understand, baby. Are you free later for a walk together? I want to talk to you about something." You agreed with a simple "Yes," and later, as you walked hand in hand in a quiet park, Yuji seemed to reflect on how to express what he had in mind. "Baby," he began, "I've noticed that lately you've been spending a lot of time looking at yourself in the mirror. You have such a natural and authentic beauty, but it seems like you don't see it." He gently squeezed your hand, trying to make you feel his support. "I thought we could do something together. A sort of experiment to show you how extraordinary you are." Intrigued, you looked at him, curious about what he had in mind. Yuji pulled out a smartphone and held it in front of both of you. "Baby, I want to take a series of photos. Not those forced poses or fake smiles, but pictures that capture your true beauty, your authenticity." Initially, you felt a bit awkward, but Yuji was so passionate about capturing every expression on your face that you soon forgot your insecurities. He managed to capture those small moments when you genuinely smiled, reflected deeply, or looked at the world in wonder. At the end of the impromptu photo session, Yuji looked at the photos on the phone screen and then into your eyes. "Look at these images, baby. This is who you really are. Not an idealized version or something you have to aspire to become. You are already extraordinary." You were moved by his sweetness and dedication to showing you your beauty through his eyes. In that moment, you understood that your insecurity was often the result of an unfair comparison with unrealistic standards imposed by the world. You needed to start seeing yourself through the eyes of someone who loved you.
Weeks passed, and over time, the fog of your insecurity began to dissipate. Yuji's words and the photos you had taken together were like a balm for your soul. You began to see the beauty in yourself, not only externally but also in your inner strength, kindness, and capacity to love.
One day, while walking once again in the park, Yuji noticed your radiant gaze and more confident steps. "How are you feeling today?" he asked with a smile. "I feel like I've made progress," you replied with a sincere smile. "Thanks to you, Yuji. Thank you for not leaving me alone in my fears, I really love you.” He squeezed your hand affectionately. "Our love is a team, remember? We're here for each other, always." That evening, returning home, you found yourself flipping through the photos you had taken together. As you looked at those captured moments, you smiled, recognizing your authentic beauty. You had learned that Yuji's love was not just a temporary response to your insecurities but a fundamental emotional refuge that helped you grow and discover your intrinsic value.
Your relationship strengthened further, fueled by mutual understanding and the willingness to overcome every obstacle together. With time, you learned to embrace not only your qualities but also your imperfections, aware that they were an integral part of what made you unique. You had learned that true love went beyond external appearances, delving into the depths of emotions and authentic connections. Through challenges and victories, the two of you walked together, ready to support each other on the journey of life. And so, hand in hand, you moved towards the future, aware that your love would always illuminate the path.
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brabblesblog · 18 days
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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.
Ch 6: My youth is a scab: under it is a wound that leaks blood
A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)
After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.
Astarion and Ban make their first move in reconnecting with her past.
Professionally edited by @editing-by-night
Read on AO3.
Masterlist
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Astarion and Ban, by @dafna-winchester
Walking through the artisans’ shops beneath the palace was always an interesting thing, but Ban found herself rather distracted today. Arms linked with her husband’s, she allowed her mind to drift as he handled most of the conversation, chatting amiably and at great length with each artisan they encountered, moving from display to display, eventually pausing to consider commissioning yet another portrait of the two of them.
His voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
“I’ll have to consult my wife about the pose,” Astarion told the artist. “It’ll be on the throne, of course, but I do feel like a slightly different atmosphere would serve to make this piece unique.” He tapped the sketch. “We’ll discuss it and I shall reconvene with you.”
He led her away, making a beeline for the cobbler’s guild’s shop, likely to ask for a fresh pair of wyrmhide shoes to be made.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get a couple pairs this time, in case you keep soaking them.” She quipped, watching his lip curl in feigned irritation.
“Tch.” He rolled his eyes. “One day you’ll wake up to find all your clothes in the fountain. We’ll see how you feel then.”
“I’d be perfectly fine walking around naked,” she teased, and he coughed, stifling a small laugh.
“If only your skill in transforming was as good as your mouth,” he retorted. There was a quick, failed attempt to smack him on the arm; he caught it quickly and kissed her hand instead, smirking.
“I just started a tenday ago!” she insisted, but she knew he was right. There needs to be more effort in it, though she found herself uninterested. If they were to live forever there would inevitably be more instances where it would be much needed.
Astarion merely huffed in amusement, letting go of her hand.
Ban was all too content to let Astarion continue mingling, her thoughts flitting back to their practice sessions. It hadn’t been easy at all - as someone who prided herself on her martial prowess, any sort of magic had always felt unnecessary, a challenge that she never put any effort into mastering. Why learn to cast spells, when cold steel got the job done?
It was unsurprising then, that so far every effort to successfully turn into mist had failed. She’d done a little better in turning into a bat - a tiny, gray-furred version of herself, she lamented - but flying without panicking had eluded her. She’d been lucky; Astarion had taken to catching her whenever she’d inevitably dropped out of the air like a rock, squealing as if her life was on the line.
He’d always chide her, reminding her that she could simply transform back mid-fall, but he always caught her anyway; every time, without fail. She smiled softly at a particular memory: when she’d flown further than she’d ever managed before. Overcome with excitement at her success, she’d turned to look at him, and realized just how far she’d flown. She could barely see him, his lithe form hardly more than a smudge in the distance. Seeing him so far away had deeply unnerved her. Panic had flooded her and the rhythm of her wingbeats had faltered. She’d screeched in terror, plummeting towards the ground.
He’d crossed the distance in an instant, her tiny furred belly landing in his delicate hands yet again. Ban wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more safe than in that moment.
The cobbler seemed happy to have received a work order for five pairs of shoes, all wyrmhide but dyed in various shades - his usual black, vermillion, a deep blue, an emerald green, and white. The last one amused Ban; for someone so concerned about the state of their clothing, white would be challenging.
The next stop was for jewelry, it seemed. Astarion chatted with the jeweler while eyeing the selection. Ban’s eyes roamed over the pieces on display, too preoccupied to register much of anything. Eventually, he dangled a large pair of earrings up towards the light, admiring the large rubies set into them. Ban looked on, watching them swing merrily from her husband’s fingers, the stones sparkling. Rubies, just like his eyes, just like-
Arlette’s favorite necklace. The ruby in it was nowhere near the size of these, but Ban remembered it all too well. Once, she’d tried it on and dropped it, the necklace quickly disappearing into the thick carpet of their home. She’d cried, knowing Arlette would be upset, and had Roderich been home, there would undoubtedly be yet another session of “corrections”. Adrien had come to her rescue, crawling on hands and knees with her to find the necklace before Arlette came into the room.
Adrien. Astarion had noted something off about the way Roderich had spoken about him.
The thought of seeing her parents, of the decision she’d made a month ago, still hangs heavy, but she felt like it must be done for him - for Adrien. They weren’t the closest of siblings, but still. He’d suffered under Roderich’s hand too, under Arlette’s blind eye. After everything that led to the fight with the Netherbrain, the idea of freeing her brother from their parents felt relatively easy. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.
Astarion seemed to finally notice her silence.
“Love?” He asked, handing the earrings back to the jeweler to place in a little box. “Is something the matter?”
She opened her mind in response, sending him images: of her and Adrien as children, playing amongst the mirrors, of the incident with their mother’s necklace. Memories, few but all the more precious for it, of moments of peace - where they were simply siblings and friends, a brief respite from the horrors of their daily lives. Then her thoughts, as nebulous and unformed as they were; no concrete plan, simply a need to know how her brother is doing and to pry him away from her parents’ clutches, if possible.
He fell silent, taking the now-wrapped box and pressing it into her hands before continuing their slow walk through the shops.
“I had surmised as much,” he said quietly. As she tucked the box into her pocket he thinks, a small crease formed on his brows. “You did say you thought you should see them. I wondered, when nothing further came of that, but I did not want to press. We could…” he paused to admire a pocketwatch from yet another artisan, holding it up by the chain, “invite them to dinner. I assume you’d rather have them here in the palace than have us at the shop, or your old home?”
Ban nodded. “Would give us an advantage.”
“Not that we need it,” Astarion reminded. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his pouch; the watch was evidently to his liking. “But if it does provide some semblance of comfort, we shall do so. Encounters like that, when held in locations that remind you of unpleasant memories,” his eyes scanned the massive room, the former dungeons, and sighed, “are rarely pleasant. I’d love nothing more than to spare you that.”
She couldn’t help but lean against him, pressing a small, grateful kiss to his cheek. “We need to go see my father in the shop, at the least, to invite them.”
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Astarion sat in the carriage, Ban’s hand clasped in both of his; she was sitting opposite him, both of them leaning forward. He hated seeing her nervous, her hands feeling colder than usual - not a common occurrence now that she’s undead - and restless. Her fingers twitched and he held them tighter, rubbing his warmer palms against hers. “Let me remind you one last time, Ban. You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to, if only to close that chapter of my life,” she said, eyes locked onto his, as if he was the font from which she drew strength. A rare occurrence - the reverse had been true most of the time, especially before - but a cherished one.
They had a plan, yes, but plans are always changeable, are they not? “The offer is always open, of course. Say the word, and we can just… end all this nonsense.” In an attempt to cheer her up Astarion grinned, playfully baring a hint of fang. She instead closed the gap, kissing him hard. She was all teeth and aggression, her fang nicking his lip on accident. The taste of his own blood stirred a little hunger in him but even more so in her; the way her tongue slipped in and licked the blood told him all he needed to know.
As she devoured his mouth he rubbed her arms, trying to soothe. She soon broke the kiss, eyes wide and a little unfocused. “I’m ready,” she said, pitch a little high. Nodding, Astarion opened the carriage door and stepped out, holding out his arm to help his wife down.
In front of them the store loomed, a little too ominous for such a humble structure, and Ban almost seemed to shrink before it.
Biting back the nearly overwhelming urge to charge in and destroy everything in sight, Astarion laced his fingers through hers. He offered her one last comforting smile, and led the way in.
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“Lord Ancunín,” Roderich said, looking up as Astarion sauntered in, rising to provide a cursory bow. When he noticed the woman walking in behind the nobleman, he went pale, standing ramrod straight, frozen as if paralyzed.
Ban, too, had met her father’s gaze. Her hand tightened around Astarion’s, squeezing almost painfully. She briefly tugged on his arm, then schooled herself. What would her father think if she tucked tail right now?
Better yet, why did she care what Roderich thought?
“Ban?” Roderich gasped, the shock holding him in place seemingly subsiding. He took two aggressive steps toward them, and Ban flinched slightly. Astarion, noticing her discomfort, shifted, placing himself between the two.
“Master Glasscraft,” Astarion said icily, “I’d appreciate it if you gave my wife and I some space.”
The man blinked for a second. “W-wife? That’s… that’s my daughter!” For a moment it seemed like Roderich intended to proceed anyway, that he’d attempt to push past Astarion. Instead he took a moment to regard the cold crimson eyes watching him, the way those cruel-looking lips were curled - ready to strike with the slightest provocation - and thought the better of it. “My lord,” he said, tone suddenly conciliatory, “you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to see my daughter again.”
Ban, who until this moment had been perfectly content allowing Astarion to take the lead, placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She sent a small thought from her mind to his - thank you, my love, but I can handle it.
Immediately he backed off, giving her a small nod. A small wave of gratitude reached her; he’s thankful she’d allowed him into her mind as she confronts her past. With it, however, is a small hint of resentment, one that made her raise her eyebrow at Astarion, but she says nothing for the moment. She took a step forward, letting go of his hand, straightening up to face Roderich.
“Hello, father,” she gritted out. “It’s… nice, seeing you again. I presume you’ve met my husband, Lord Astarion Ancunín.” Behind her, Astarion gave him a small, sardonic bow.
Ban couldn’t help but feel a swell pride at those words, at her terrible, beautiful beloved; at how far they’d both risen above what they were made for.
Roderich swallowed audibly. “I- yes, my little beauty,” he began, seeing Ban’s expression close off at the nickname, “I have indeed met your… husband. The, um, the esteemed successor to Lord Szarr’s estate!” He clapped his hands together with false mirth. “I am sure you’ve seen the mirror he’s purchased from me? You no doubt know he has good taste. It’s-”
“Silver, full length, inlaid with gold, in typical rococo style,” Ban finished for him; Roderich gave a jaunty nod of approval.
“You remember.” He smiled despite the tension in the room, almost taking a step towards her again before Ban crossed her arms. “I will admit one of our mercury mirrors would have provided a far superior product as you very well know, but as it stands the one Lord Ancunín bought has the best reflection silver can provide. You’ve no doubt seen yourself in it and seen how our mirrors have improved over the past four years.”
She wanted to roll her eyes. Four years she’d been gone, and of course, the first thing he wanted to talk about were the godsdamned mirrors. Ban opened her mouth, whether to either insult her father or humor him she wasn’t sure, but he spoke before she got the chance.
“Little beauty, your mother would be so elated to know you’re back. That you’ve made something of your life, I suppose, despite… our earlier reservations,” Roderich continued. “When you left, we assumed you’d end up in a far worse situation than… this.”
Astarion bristled, but kept his peace for her. He began pacing through the store, walking back and forth in a closed path, hands buried in his pockets - almost like a predator stalking its next kill. There was an edge to his thoughts, one that Ban noticed, but mistakenly attributed to mere indignation at her father’s behavior.
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In truth Astarion’s mind churned as he paced, Roderich’s voice ringing in his head. Little beauty. Little beauty… gods.
Countless times he’d called her something similar - his pet. His precious treasure. His little love. He recalled how she’d disliked it, but at the time she’d hated everything else he did - how was he to discern the truth?
This is why I needed to know, he told himself, irritation the first feeling he sank into, a little apprehensive about examining the ones that lurked beneath it. Revulsion, self-hatred, guilt. He’d known that he reminded Ban of her father at times, but this new revelation deeply unnerved him.
She must’ve loathed him, he realized; not that he hadn’t been aware of that, but the depth of it still eluded him. The sheer venom in their relationship had meant he hadn’t really been too concerned by her displeasure. A response was a response after all, and her love had been so absent that he’d craved any sign of emotion. And didn’t she want to be denigrated to some extent, he’d reasoned with himself, just as she’d enjoyed it in bed?
He knew she’d forgiven him, but this made the idea of making amends even more daunting. How could he even begin to atone when even now, more than six months later, he was still unearthing new and horrifying ways he’d inadvertently tortured her with his twisted idea of love?
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Ban watched him from the corner of her eye, concerned. Are you alright?
His eyes snapped back to her, and for a moment he looked stricken. As they locked eyes, however, he seemed to relax, visibly taking a deep breath. Perfectly fine; there is no need to concern yourself. His eyes flicked towards Roderich, a silent reminder to focus on the issue at hand.
She turned back to her father. “I daresay I did well by your standards. You wanted me to marry someone rich - that I did. Someone powerful - I did that too. He has both in much greater measure than you could have in your wildest dreams.” She didn’t add in the most important things: that her husband is someone who loves her, who sees her as his equal, someone that she loves beyond reason; there’s no point debating that with Roderich.
There was also the odd omission of her brother; and she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Her eyes flicked over to Astarion again; he gave her an almost imperceptible nod of understanding as the mental link passed the message along.
Roderich appeared to realize the veiled insult he’d just leveled at Astarion. “Ah- I mean, of course! That isn’t what I meant, little beauty. I merely meant, well. The Szarr family owned the palace, and then Lord Ancunín inherited it and…” he paused for a moment then shook his head. “I was just confused. Forgive me, I did not mean any offense.”
Ban noted that her father was keeping something from them. The way his eyes darted to Astarion every few seconds, as if her husband was a threat, was curious, as was the way he paused mid-sentence, as if he meant to say something else and then changed his mind. She felt a wave of irritation pass from Astarion to her. Turning, she saw him slap on the biggest, falsest grin as he finally stopped pacing and rounded on Roderich.
“And none taken!” Astarion declared, coming to a stop right next to the older man. “After all, you’re family now, and I understand if you find the - change - in last names odd. The Ancuníns are - let’s say - a distant branch of the Szarr clan, and since Cazador died without any heirs - may the gods have mercy on his soul,” he placed a hand on his chest, playing the role of a young man mourning his dearest departed relative so well Ban almost had to stifle a laugh, “the estate and mansion have passed into my possession.”
The act sent a small pang of nostalgia through Ban, memories of him playing the fop back in the day making her more than a little wistful. This didn’t escape his notice, of course; the mental link and her face were more than enough indication. His eyes met hers, and for a moment his gaze was pained.
“What I mean to say, Roderich,” he continued, wrapping an arm over the older man’s shoulder and tugging him close, “is that the estate is mine and your daughter’s, now. In fact, we would be delighted to host a small soiree in your honor. My beloved hasn’t seen her family in years, and we would be honored to have you and your family as our guests.”
That had been the plan: come to the shop without warning, catching Roderich by surprise, then invite the Glasscrafts over for dinner at the Crimson Palace. It would give Ban a chance to see her family in a more comfortable setting, and then decide if she wanted more contact or not.
Roderich squirmed in Astarion’s grasp. “Of - of course. We would be more than happy to come, my lord.”
Satisfied, Astarion dropped the act, letting go of Roderich. “Good. We expect to see you and your whole family at sunset in a tenday. Don’t be late,” he drawled, the coldness settling back. His eyes raked over Ban for a second.
Do you want to go?
She considered it and then nodded. As she turned around, however, Roderich finally gathered enough courage to reach for her - she felt his calloused hand wrap around her wrist.
“My little beauty, dear,” Roderich started. “You left us, you gave up on your family-”
Ban faced her father, for a moment tempted to do exactly as Astarion wanted and sic him on her father, perhaps even bite Roderich herself. Her lip curled, and behind her Astarion tensed, the bond ensuring the thought did not go unnoticed.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, glaring down at her father. “Don’t-”
Ban furiously snatched her hand away from Roderich, rubbing at her eyes. Don’t. He can’t be allowed to see her cry, not when he’d caused it countless times in her life, when he considered her tears a victory.
Easier said than done, however, the prickling feeling of impending tears not abating. Her eyes found the only source of solace in this cursed place, Astarion locking gazes with her. He took a step even before she could communicate anything, arm wrapping around her waist.
“We’ll be off, Master Glasscraft,” Astarion said, the anger simmering under the obviously insincerely pleasant tone. “As previously mentioned, Ban and I will be expecting you and your family in a tenday.”
Roderich tried again, mouth opening to say something more, but Astarion gave him a withering look that invited him to try it and find out. Falling silent, the older man sighed and stayed put, watching Astarion lead Ban out of the store and back to the carriage.
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He still had an arm wrapped around her, fingers gently ghosting over her back in what he hoped were comforting touches. To his surprise she came to lie down on his side of the carriage, resting her head on his lap and looking up at him quietly.
Displays of unbridled emotional openness were still uncommon for her; she’d always been that way, but he didn’t fool himself into thinking he hadn't exacerbated the lack of it.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, “I can sit up.” As she moved he placed an arm across her chest, clasping her shoulder.
“I never uttered a word of complaint, did I?” He thumbed away a tear. “I insist; I don’t like seeing my darling so upset. If this eases you somewhat then I’d be delighted to have you crease my trousers.” He offered her a quick, easy smile that he hoped would soothe her.
Especially when I still feel terrible about the nicknames; Roderich’s words today were a weight in the forefront of his mind. He was quick to sever the mental bond before that thought had a chance to get to her; when she raised an eyebrow in question he merely shrugged. His other hand ran through her hair, tracing the braids there absently.
Ban relaxed under his touch, the tears slowing somewhat. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Seeing him again wasn’t easy, especially given the circumstances of, well. Everything.”
He resisted the urge to tell her about the thoughts plaguing him; for now settling on lighter things. For her sake. “That was a rather impressive display of knowledge back there, with the mirror.” he stated carefully. “I admit I was rather surprised when he mentioned mercury mirrors; it’s a wonder he’s survived this long working with the material.”
She laughed, a loud, acerbic sound. “Astarion, you think he crafts the mirrors himself?” She shook her head and nuzzled against his thigh; he couldn’t help the sudden intake of breath or the shiver that ran through him.
“I suppose not,” he conceded. “So, hire some unfortunate soul, teach them how to make mirrors, and then once they’re ill, replace them?” A small scoff escaped his lips. “A waste of resources. You would do better keeping them in your employ and instead only produce silver mirrors.”
“I don’t disagree,” Ban looked up at him. “Silver would be better for the health of your mirror-makers, sure, but it wouldn’t be as expensive to sell.” Her hand rose, cupping his cheek. “I did tell you. The shop was his only love.”
Astarion felt her thumb brush over his cheekbones, wondering if the gesture soothed her; he mimicked the motion, tracing her own in turn. They weren’t as sharp nor as defined as his, but they were perfect, the shape of her face perfectly molded into the curve of his palm. The all-too-familiar swell of affection rose in him and he huffed.
“That is unfortunate, and dare I say his loss. The one thing he should have loved best is mine now,” he murmured, “and I am never letting go.”
Not again, not ever; and now that he was starting to believe that he was enough, he knew he could do anything and be everything she wished him to be. It aided in quieting that small seed of resentment he’d been harboring and keeping sealed tight in his breast.
It aided in softening the horror his new discovery had been plaguing him with, too.
The carriage began to move; he held her waist, keeping her secure. For a moment they were both silent, both lost in thought, contemplating what had just happened.
Ban broke the silence. “You’re thinking too loudly, Astarion.” He could tell she was amused, and more than a little worried.
“Am I that easy to read, love?” Of course she saw through it, through the feigned disinterest and the not-too-carefully worn guise of that’s not important, all I want is for you to be alright - not that it wasn’t true, of course it is - but he did need to talk about it.
“Not exactly hiding it, Astarion,” she mumbled, and he smiled slightly, chagrined. He gently nudged her to shift in his lap, facing away. His hands gathered up some of her loose hair, separating it out into sections. He’d helped her braid it before, and he wasn’t the best at it, but he had to admit that he found the repetitive motion soothing. The task was a good exercise for his nimble fingers, hands that hadn’t felt the heat of combat in what feels like forever.
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “Your father’s preferred term of endearment - little beauty - irks you, doesn’t it?” The braid he was working on slowly took form, and he paused to admire it. “I would hazard a guess and assume my own names for you… elicited the same response.”
Ban craned her neck to watch his work; he held the partially done braid up for her to see. “Not bad,” she commented. There was a small pause, where she gave him a look that seemed to be more fretful than anything else, and continued. “You’re right. It’s… he’s always reduced me, my mother - my brother, even - into things, to ensure his success. His little beauty to marry off. His broodmare, to give him successors. And of course his heir, to carry his name into the future.”
“You haven’t answered the other half of the question,” Astarion chided, eyes pointedly fixed on the half-done braid instead of her eyes.
“Your assumption,” Ban pointed out, “which isn’t wrong, of course, but neither is it some huge, unforgivable thing.”
“Ban…” he murmured, voice low. Dare he hope?
She sighed, hand curving around his chin to make him look at her; he saw nothing but earnestness there.
“You’re fine. We’re fine. That was the past, and you stopped the moment I asked you to. There is no issue here.”
He couldn’t help the relieved laugh he barked out, the tension leaving his body. “I - I suppose you’re right.” He searched for something else to say, and settled on a question. “When was the last time you saw Roderich, and what were the circumstances of your… departure?” He surmised she was likely to have run away, from what Roderich had said; he was curious, but this was also a test of sorts. Would she trust him enough to tell him more?
Ban frowned, thinking. “I ran away. It was after they wanted to have me wed.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, all faux cheeriness; his hands resumed their work on the braid. “You escaped the clutches of some disgusting, lecherous lout. A good decision; it does not surprise me that you effortlessly repeated the feat when it came to leaving me.”
There wasn’t any bitterness there, merely a need to make light of things. She chuckled and nodded. “My to-be-husband was not hideous, however. He was tall, I daresay even taller than you,” she laughed as he let out a loud, offended scoff, then continued. “He was also rather handsome. I just didn’t want him, nor feel anything for him.”
“You could have, provided with enough time. Although…” he cocked his head at her, teasingly, “had you done so you wouldn’t have been with such a devastatingly handsome vampire, would you?”
“Devastatingly arrogant, yes,” she said, simpering up at him. “But, I met him, and he was rather insistent on being betrothed as soon as possible. He was prepared: dowry, a date for the marriage, the guest list, which apparently my parents had input in…”
Astarion yet again felt pique surge in him: for her, but also at the ease in which this all flowed now. He forced himself to refocus on the braid instead. “Let me continue the story, then. One night, when everyone was not paying mind, the poor maiden slipped out, likely through the window of the house, her meager possessions the only thing she carried with her.” He said it all with an amused, if slightly dismissive air.
“I… well, yes, mostly. Except that it was midday.” She looked at him with a slightly quizzical expression; for a moment it seemed like she wanted to say more, then thought better of it. “You’re getting good at this,” Ban pivots, nodding at the almost finished braid.
He shrugged. “It’s not so difficult to do; a twist here, a turn there…” he finished off his work and raised a hand, letting his fingers dance, as though rolling a coin between them. “What am I if not skilled with my hands, hm? You know that better than most.”
A smile broke over her features and she smirked. “So is that what all that braiding was for? To show off your dexterity?” She reached out to take his hand, running her rougher fingers over his soft knuckles.
“I could be persuaded to demonstrate it in a different manner,” he purred, eyes flicking up to watch their approach to the Crimson Palace. “And the braids may prove rather helpful in that regard.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The braids stay on this time? She’d always liked having them in her hair. Before the rite he’d occasionally helped her braid her hair; in the days after it she’d done them herself - he’d found it beneath him to do so. He’d always helped her take them out, however, one of their nightly routines before inevitably ending up in each other’s arms. The thought of his hands tugging her braids while he took her was intriguing, warmth beginning to unfurl in her core. “I might be amenable. After all that, I definitely need a distraction.”
He gave her a careful once-over, to make sure this wasn’t merely her skirting her emotions, that it was something she desired. He figured that it was skirting somewhat, but it was also a request for help - she didn’t really want to think about the events of today. He smirked, then gave her hair a small, playful tug. “Then a distraction you shall get, darling. As always, you need only ask, and it will be yours.”
He’d had ideas on how to do this, to reintroduce a little rougher play. The idea of holding onto her head, threading his fingers through those locks as her mouth-
Astarion shook the mental image off. “Let’s get home and-”
The rest of his words were swallowed up by a moan as Ban turned her head to mouth at his clothed cock. She pulled away and he viciously fought the urge to hold her head there and fuck her mouth; he watched her sit up, his eyes locked onto those lips.
“Of course,” Ban said, mirth in her eyes. “Once we get home, I’ll let you distract me all you want.”
Getting home could not be any slower, he thought.
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Getting to the bedroom was a challenge, especially since she couldn’t keep her hands off of her husband in between attempts to strip off her own clothes. Their lips were locked, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, each trying to strip without ending their kiss. Her shoes and trousers came off, abandoned somewhere in the main hallway. He seemed to be having just as much trouble as she was; a shoe went flying and he cursed, lips parting from hers with a groan of frustration as he lifted a leg to tug off the other.
“Godsdamned-” he cursed, tugging it off with one hard yank. “You see the issue when the wyrmhide gets soaked and then dries? It shrinks.”
“Oh, shut up.” The moment the shoe was off she grabbed his face, kissing him again. He smelled the way he always had, that lovely perfume a blend of notes that he always made for himself, even now. But underneath was his own scent, one that matches hers, that slight hint of earth and death. But there was more, so much more. That warm flesh under her hands, the ragged, hot breaths, the racing of his heart. Racing, because of her.
“Mh-” He tried to get a word in then gave up the attempt, instead pushing her against the wall of the hallway. A small whoosh of breath escaped her and she shot him a look of surprise, desire raging through her. She broke the kiss to speak; he growled disapprovingly at the loss of contact.
“Seems like you want something,” Ban said, coy. She knew perfectly well what. Astarion fixed her with a wry grin, eyes lidded, head tilted - the picture of seduction.
“My love, I only ever want one thing - you.” He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing the same air. “I crave you, long for you, want you.” His hand slipped under her shirt, tracing a path to her breast. “You did so well last time, showing me exactly what you wanted me to do. Perhaps you could be enticed to give me a little…” he found a nipple, playing with it absently, “…more?”
Ban felt her nipples harden at his touch, a low groan escaping her lips. “I could. What do-” her words hitched as he mouthed at the base of her neck; both hands now focused on the rather urgent task of unbuttoning her shirt. The cool air greeted her as her shirt opened, baring her torso.
“What do I want?” He said, blazing a path of searing kisses and nips from her collarbone down between her breasts, then further towards her belly. “I want you to trust me,” Astarion whispered against her skin, looking up at her, “enough to let me be rougher. More… aggressive.”
Those eyes pleaded, soft and gentle despite the intensity of his kisses. A hand slipped down to adjust his hardness, drawing Ban’s attention, and all of a sudden her throat was dry. “Yes, Astarion. I… I daresay I’d like that. Very much.”
She’d liked it before, Astarion’s roughness. It had been a discovery they’d made within the confines of their tent in the Shadow-Cursed lands and it had always been just right. He had ruined it bit by bit after he’d ascended, but she figured it was time to try again; she’d missed it and knew he had as well.
“Very good,” he replied, eyes steely and mischievous again, tucking away the softness without reservation. “Remind me, my darling: what do we say, when we want the play to end?”
“Sussur,” she breathed, and was rewarded with an approving purr and Astarion using his mouth to slowly tug her underwear down, his hot breath ghosting against her mound as he did.
He replaced his mouth with a hand, pulling the fabric the rest of the way off. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he slipped them off her legs, then tossed them over his shoulder. Astarion licked his lips; on his knees he was at eye level with her core. “Sussur, indeed,” he murmured, mouth ghosting over her, but not quite touching just yet. “You look delicious from here, darling. I almost can’t resist…” a small lap of his tongue, warm and pleasant and just perfect against her folds, just enough to hint at what more he could be doing, “...a taste.”
“Astarion.” Ban bit back the moan, barely managing it. “If you want to lead, just do it. Quit teasing.” She wasn’t irritated, and the idea of being teased to hell and back is something she so desperately wanted, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give him a little cheek. His answering smirk was mischievous; he was all too aware that she was at his mercy.
Half-lidded eyes met hers as he rose, pressing his body against hers. “We’ve just started, my sweet. You must be patient while I decide exactly what I’m going to do to you.” The slow roll of his hips against hers was pleasant, his cock hard and rubbing against her in slow, increasingly insistent circles, the clothes separating them merely adding to the much-needed friction.
Ban met his gaze, then brazenly reached down to cup his erection. Astarion hissed, eyes glinting dangerously at having his authority challenged, but also with a hint of barely hidden delight. She couldn’t help the laugh that erupted out of her. “How about you make me suck your cock, my lord? You can do all the things your pretty little head was thinking of whilst braiding my hair.” She paused briefly, a rebellious smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “If you think you can make me, that is.”
Her own sudden boldness took her by surprise, but even more so her husband; she watched his eyes widen, cock twitching against her palm, the warm heat more than a little gratifying. After a moment, his eyes narrowed into a searing, sultry glare.
Astarion’s answer was breathy, more growled than spoken. “Bedroom.” he turned, already working on the buttons of his doublet, “Now.”
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If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."
I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!
Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decedentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon
Sorry for the late tags! Somehow the old ones turned into links so I had to retype each of them!
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saraswritingtipps · 9 months
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How do I to get over the idea of my stories being garbage and I'll never improve at anything?
It's common for Writers to experience self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy at times. Overcoming these negative thoughts and beliefs requires patience, persistence, and a healthy mindset. Here are a few suggestions to help you get over the idea that your stories are garbage and that you'll never improve:
1. Recognize self-criticism as a part of the creative process: It's natural to be critical of your own work, but try to view it as an opportunity for growth. Constructive self-reflection can help you identify areas for improvement and push yourself to do better.
2. Embrace imperfection: Remember that perfection is an unrealistic standard. Every writer, no matter their skill level, has room for improvement. Instead of focusing on producing flawless stories, focus on progress and enjoy the journey of learning and refining your skills.
4. Celebrate your successes: Take the time to acknowledge and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small they may seem. Recognize the progress you've made, whether it's finishing a story, receiving positive feedback, or mastering a new technique. These milestones can boost your confidence and motivate you to keep going.
5. Study and learn from others: Read widely, explore different genres, and study the works of authors you admire. Pay attention to their writing techniques, storytelling structures, and character development. Learning from experienced writers can inspire you and provide new insights into your own writing.
6. Practice regularly: Writing, like any other skill, requires practice. Set aside dedicated time for writing, even if it's just a few minutes each day. The more you practice, the more you'll improve and grow as a writer.
7. Reframe failure as an opportunity: Instead of viewing setbacks or rejections as definitive proof of your incompetence, see them as learning experiences. Understand that every writer faces rejection, and it's often a stepping stone toward improvement.
Be patient with yourself, stay committed, and focus on the joy and passion that drew you to ❤️writing in the first place.❤️
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gamergirl-niffler · 5 days
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Can I request Obanai with his girlfriend who is kind of scared of his snake? And he slowly helps her overcome the fear
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Hmm, interesting idea!
I hope you will like it
Obanai with S/O who is afraid of his snake.
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🐍 Iguro is confused. Why are you afraid of Kaburamaru? He was never unpleasant to you, so why are you afraid?
🐍 When you can't really fully explain your fears, he just sighs and shakes his head. There is only one thing to do - teach you how to not be afraid... At least when it comes to Kaburamaru.
🐍 As a first little step, Obanai buys you a book about snakes. The more you learn about them, the more you'll see they aren't as scary as they seem.
🐍 Whenever you two sit together, Obanai makes sure that you sit near Kaburamaru. Not shoulder to shoulder, but close enough for you to feel comfortable while getting used to the snake's presence.
🐍 Obanai allows you to feed Kaburamaru with his favorite snacks. The sake is, of course, gentle while taking the snack, which is actually really nice. Obanai also wants you to not be afraid since he means no harm to you.
🐍 When you are less scared and start to feel comfortable, it's time for the big step. Obanai allows Kaburamaru to climb your hand. 
🐍 You stay brave! You aren't afraid... Right... Right!? When you open your eyes, the snake is looking right at you, right from your arm and it's not scary at all!
🐍 Sure, you don't feel fully comfortable, but it's not as bad as you thought.
🐍 After this day, you take more and more steps to be less scared of Kaburamaru, as well as other snakes. Of course ,you don't walk up to every snake you see, but you don't freak out.
🐍 Obanai feels so much better seeing you and his snake getting along well. He is glad he could help, even just a little.
🐍 Kaburamaru is also glad that it was possible for the two of you to build a connection. You make Iguro happy, so you are his friend now as well. 
🐍 Finally, after months, you succeed and your snake fear is gone, at least when it comes to Obanai's snake. You like and respect each other, which makes Obanai more than happy. 
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haphazardlyannotated · 8 months
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So I was thinking about how Steven, Connie and Stevonnie all have a duet with one of the main Crystal Gems and I realised how masterfully these songs are deployed to tell us things about them.
First of all, On The Run for Steven and Amethyst.
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Amethyst is the Crystal Gem who relates the most to Steven's experiences and vice versa. They're both the 'juniors' in their household, they've both been struggling with being respected by the older Crystal Gems for a while now, and though Amethyst is very much Steven's guardian when it comes down to it, she's also Steven's peer in a way that Garnet and Pearl just aren't even when they try to include Steven.
And now this song sets them up as parallels in other contexts, too. They're both from earth! They both don't wholly belong in one category (Steven as a half gem, half human, Amethyst as a Crystal Gem who never fought in the rebellion and whose existence runs against the Crystal Gems' original wishes for Earth), and as we are about to learn, they both came into existence at the cost of other life and might harbour guilt about it, even though they had literally no say in this.
And then later on they continue to be parallels, especially in season 3 (though they share the child of divorce energy during the Sardonyx Arc). They both compare themselves to impossible standards of what they 'should' be (Steven to the idea of Rose, Amethyst to Jasper) and it is their recognition of their own struggles in each other that allows them to at least partially overcome them. No wonder Smoky Quartz is Steven's first fusion with another gem!
Next up: Do It For Her, sung by Pearl and Connie.
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Speaking of parallels! It's pretty obvious watching the episode that Pearl is spending some time in projection city regarding absolute devotion to a beloved, if not revered partner, but she might actually be closer to the truth in some respects than she realises.
Remember Lion 2: The Movie? When Connie said that she didn't understand why Steven would hang out with someone as normal as her? Doesn't this remind us of someone else who feels like she's objectively inferior to a special (in several ways) someone? Someone who stepped out of the predetermined role she was supposed to fill to join her loved one on their dangerous path? Who lived a double life to avoid retribution from controlling authority figures? Couldn't say.
Also, they're both the knowledgable planner to their all loving goofball partner.
With all of this, I think Do It For Her both draws parallels between Pearl and Connie as well as Pearlrose and Connverse, and shows us how the example of Pearl and Rose's unresolved dysfunction could stop Steven and Connie from falling into the same trap before it was too late. I think seeing Pearl demonstrate the end of the road they were beginning to walk was what enabled Steven to step in before they got to Pearlrose's point, where Pearl was to deep in her self sacrificing mindset for Rose to reach her.
And finally, Here Comes A Thought for Garnet and Stevonnie.
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First of all, obviously, Garnet and Stevonnie as an embodiment of the love and harmony between Ruby and Sapphire and Steven and Connie respectively.
It also draws parallels between Ruby and Connie and Steven and Sapphire though. (I saw a great meta about that in my lurking days, which I will link here if someone could kindly direct me to it). Sapphire and Steven as people who would rather bury negative feelings, like Sapphire tries to in Keystone Motel and Steven in... the entirety of suf to name just the most prominent one. Which of course only leads to more problems in the long run, because they haven't processed the feelings at all.
On the other hand, the comparison with Ruby draws attention to a trait of Connie's we maybe wouldn't have noticed otherwise: She is, for the lack of a better term, much more confrontational about things that make her unhappy. Just look at The New Crystal Gems.
Also, letting Ruby and Sapphire demonstrate their conflict resolution for Steven and Connie gives us an insight into what goes into keeping Garnet together through everything. Love takes work indeed. It's also worth pointing out that Connverse have been paralleled with both Pearlrose, Rupphire and (a little bit in We Need To Talk) Gregrose this way.
This show has so many layers, I swear, I'll be on my deathbed and I'll still find new nuances to write an essay about. Well done, Crewniverse.
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yuwigqi · 16 days
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You know how everyone talks about "Since they're been multiple heroes with the same name before, Dick shouldn't've taken Robin, Tim and Damian should've both been Robin?"
Let's ignore. And instead I raise you: when Bruce retires, Dick, Tim and Cass all become The Batman.
Tim simply does not have the combat skill to take on forces like Bane, Ivy, Freeze, and other superpowerful metas night after night by himself. Cass could probably take all three of them, and despite being banged up, fight off an entire mob the same night.
But Cass simply doesn't have the science prowess required. You can't always rely on Oracle being there 100% of the time. Besides, some tech needs to be used by you, in the field. Fingerprint scanners, on the go DNA scanners, as well as some of the hyper complicated hand-held bat tech for escaping bondage. Not to mention the chemistry required to analyze new chemicals yourself (face it, if Bruce is gone, so is Alfred). She obviously won't settle for never getting better, but the branch from "no written or verbal language" to "technopath level hacking and chemistry at the level of scarecrow and Joker" is a long, hard one, and it'll take more than 5 years to bridge it. That's where Tim comes in.
Tim and Cass are both 1. highly intelligent, 2. devoted to saving people, and 3. not arrogant enough to think they have no weaknesses. They realize that they can do more as a team than not only themselves, but than Bruce was ever capable of at all.
Dick doesn't become Gotham's Batman. He doesn't want it, he never wants it again. However. No one in the superhero community with any sense thinks he is anything but more than worthy than Bruce to become a leader of the Justice League. Clark, Diana, and Wally make that clear. Dick becomes Earth's Batman. Nightwing stays as the street level hero of [insert new city as Bludhaven was nuked], but when necessary, he picks up the cowl for The League.
They all saw what Batman did the Bruce. Saving Gotham and the Earth every single day left his body raw and blistered. He was short with anger, immediately overcome with guilt and self-loathing after each temper flare. Not only did he not wish that fate on his children, they didn't particularly want to end up like that either.
Any one of them could do all the jobs Batman requires. But they know better. They learned from Bruce's mistakes. Batman shouldn't be one person's job.
Gotham, and the Galaxy, have not ever been safer.
(Bonus that Dami becomes Dick's Robin, Steph becomes Cass's, and Jason becomes Tim's)
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befuddledcinnamonroll · 5 months
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I've just realized something about why I'm enjoying Dangerous Romance so much. It's not the only reason, but it's a big one.
Sailom is one. stubborn. fucker. It's there from the very beginning. At first we're led to see it as a virtue, as he outmaneuvers Kang. But over time, it gets revealed as a critical flaw.
He quits school, not just because of Kang, but because he is going to get the truth out of Saifah and get Saifah out of prison, no matter what it takes. Because he's fucking stubborn! He's going to get the money he needs alone, and fix everything, alone. He is so used to being the smart & capable one, the one responsible for handling things, and sees his problems as his alone. It makes him literally incapable of accepting help from the multitude of people who care for him. You wanna smack him for it - but that is who he is.
Kang is an impulsive asshole. He was at the beginning, and he still is now. He acts on emotion and without thought. He sees what he wants and he goes for it. Something makes him angry and he lashes out. He's been immersed in privilege and emotionally neglected, and his regulation skills suck. And even his closeness with someone like Pimfah can't get that to change. He pushes away the person he loves the most at the absolute worst moment. Because that is who he is.
The only thing that makes an impact, the only way these two break through their flaws, is with each other. Sailom lets himself lean on someone else and accept care. Kang sees how someone else is impacted by his impulsive behavior and learns to put his feelings into a more selfless direction.
Yet these changes don't happen overnight. They take steps backwards. Because that is how real human change works. No one wakes up the next day completely fixed. They have to decide to come back together, and keep working at it. Because a part of them knows they are better when they are together.
And this theme of how the right relationship can help us overcome our deepest flaws extends to the side characters. Guy comes across as assertive, but he fights for other people, not for himself. Nawa reminds him that his dreams are worth fighting for just as hard as he fights to protect his friends. Nawa, on the surface, comes across as cynical and uncaring. The only way he can think of to flirt with his long time crush is to antagonize him. But with Guy, he's able to reveal the vulnerability underneath.
Saifah has had a fairly lackadaisical approach to his (and Sailom's) life. But meeting Name again has given him something to reach for. While Name, who has survived by making himself cold and dangerous, realizes that he wants to be better, and lean towards Saifah's warmth.
I know for some people watching the series, the flaws are too much, and it's too frustrating. But I love it. Real people are flawed. We are all SO flawed. But we can find people in our lives who help make us better. Who encourage our better impulses and call us out on our bullshit.
Maybe in the end it's not all that dangerous. But it's pretty damn important.
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kazvha · 28 days
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Gekko with a s/o who learns Spanish
Notes: This is pretty self-indulgent bc I just started learning Spanish haha🫣 Estoy enamorada💛
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• Gekko helps you when have trouble with the pronounciation of some letters or words. He repeats them slowly and corrects you when you speak after him. He also mentions how different accents would pronounce the words
• You need a partner to converse with in Spanish every day? He's right in front of you! First, he would speak slowly to you with many exaggerated gestures so that you would understand everything. He would pick up the pace every time you get better until you two can talk normally.
• Sometimes he says things in Spanish that you don't understand like "Your outfit looks so cute today, I'm jealous!" and he wants you to figure the sentence out on your own. He always laughs it off when you figure it out and praises you for it.
• Gekko sends you little notes with cute and sweet things written in Spanish🥹 Wingman delivers them.
• Sometimes you even surprise Mateo when you say random words like "sacacorchos" and he wonders from where you got these words
• His mom is super proud of you. Every time you see her she asks you something new in Spanish and is surprised at your progress. In the beginning, it was hard to talk to each other since she could only speak Spanish and didn't understand English well, but the more you learned, the closer you got to each other🥺
• She complains about Mateo to you and shows you baby photos of him. Sometimes you even help her with cooking. You two basically became besties and it melts Mateo's heart!!
• He is also proud of your progress and kisses your cheek every time you tell him about something new you learned
• When you get a burnout, Mateo tells you that it's alright and to take it slow. You will overcome the walls you hit!
• In your free time, you watch Spanish shows or read Spanish books together. Then you discuss it and it helps you to gain more vocab and expressions <3
• When you're bored, you even watch cringe telenovelas together. That's how you learned relatively early in your Spanish journey how to complain and curse in the language😀
• Mateo promises you to go on a trip in a Spanish-speaking country with you as a reward for your hard work❤️
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sirfrogsworth · 6 days
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If there is a post discussing ableism there is a decent chance a disabled person is writing it.
I really appreciate the work this person did transcribing that post. I am always grateful when people make my work more accessible.
But I am really getting tired of defending myself on this.
My disability makes me very tired, reduces my concentration, and kills my willpower.
For a long time I thought that last thing was me being lazy. That's what my own father thought for a long time. And I was often scolded when I was younger for being lazy. And to this day I struggle with feeling depressed when I cannot be productive.
But willpower is a fickle thing and I do not believe it can be explained simply by calling people lazy.
I have nearly a thousand unfinished posts in my draft folder because I simply ran out of willpower to finish them.
Inspiration is fuel. Sometimes it is the only thing I have to overcome how tired I am and how hard it is to stay focused. And if I lose the inspiration to do something, there is a good chance I will not be able to finish it.
When I set out to create one of my typical high effort posts, the process looks roughly like this...
Research any topics I am unfamiliar with.
Gather any images I need.
Brainstorm what I want to write.
Write a first draft.
Write a second draft.
Write a third draft.
If there is humor in what I'm writing, I will do a joke pass.
Then I do a grammar check.
Then I do a grammar check.
Then I do a grammar check.
I keep doing grammar checks until I find no more mistakes.
Then I do a quick fact check and google anything I am not 100% certain is correct.
Then I do a polishing pass and address any formatting issues.
And if I get this far, I publish the post.
By the time I get to publishing I am usually very tired. I no longer have any ability to concentrate. And the willpower to put any more effort into the post is long gone.
It's not that I don't want to transcribe images. It's that I just don't have the willpower to do so.
It is just not feasible for me to go back and transcribe everything. I don't want my posts ending up with those thousand unfinished drafts.
There is also the matter of not knowing if my post will reach 10 people or 10,000 people. I can't justify using up all of that energy for 10 people. My energy is my most precious commodity. I have to be very careful how I use it.
Disabilities vary wildly and lately I have seen a lot of disabled folks struggle to see the world outside their particular limitations. And that is frustrating. If we are going to be a strong community and advocate for ourselves, we need to learn more about each other's needs and limitations.
I'm not saying this person intended to call me lazy. But, if I am being honest, reading this felt like those days of my dad calling me lazy and wishing I had a better work ethic like my brother. He was a great dad, but he was not perfect. Especially when I was younger and we didn't understand my health issues.
So before you criticize someone please try to consider if there is a legitimate reason to do so. Maybe look at their tumblr and read their bio. Or check out a few posts.
I can be too quick to judge. It's something I have to work on as well. But this is the last time I'm going to apologize for not doing extra labor on my posts.
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