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musclesandhammering · 3 years

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Every Single Issue I Have With S*lki (It’s Not Just The Selfcest)

Here goes. I threatened to post this a few days ago and never did, but I just saw a s*lki stan Twitter account claim that Loki caring about Sylvie more than the whole multiverse was a Good And Romantic thing and it pushed me over the fucking edge, so now you all have to read this. I’ve divided it into categories cause there’s just THAT much.

OOC Bullshit

• First and foremost, no amount of mental gymnastics you do will ever make me believe that this specific Loki- the one that just invaded New York, that just came off a year of Thanos Torture, that just got done being influenced by the sceptre, that was literally in the middle of a crisis already, and then on top of that went through all the trauma of Ep 1- would even be worried about a romantic relationship. That would be the furthest thing from his mind. Go back and watch how he acted in Avengers- you think that guy would abandon his previous mission to become a snivelling simp for a girl he’d just met 3 days prior? Yeah, there’s no universe in which that makes sense.

• “It’s very in character for Loki to fall in love with himself lololol-“ NO, it’s literally not. Out of all the characters in the mcu, I don’t think I can think of anyone that genuinely hates themselves more than Loki. He even referred to all his other male variants as “monsters” and said meeting them was “a nightmare” in this series. He’s got so much self-loathing, plus the fact that he genuinely thinks himself to be an evil backstabbing scourge- so there’s no evidence at all suggesting that he would ever develop a fondness for, or even be inclined to trust, another version of himself, after only knowing them for 3 days.

• Building on that, the whole concept of Loki falling in love with a version of himself just feeds into the annoying ass misconception that he’s a narcissist. No matter which way you stack it, he’s not. If you’re referring to NPD, he doesn’t fit the criteria, and if you’re saying “narcissist” just as a slang term meaning “selfish and arrogant”, that still doesn’t accurately describe him. But when creators like Waldron and Herron do things like having him fall in love with himself, it makes it so much easier for casual viewers to think that he is.

Shitty LGBT Rep

• It’s kinda sus that Loki’s are allegedly genderfluid and yet the only female-presenting variant we see (and apparently the only female-presenting variant there is, cause the male Loki’s all seemed unfamiliar with the concept) is treated as some kind of mind-bogglingly special paradox. Also very sus that, out of all the Loki variants, the one our Loki falls in love with just so happens to be the only female one. What a coincidence.

• The fact that the creators of the show went around bragging about Loki’s bisexuality and Marvel purposefully (lbr) allowed stories about Loki possibly having a male love interest to circulate, specifically enticing queer viewers to watch the show (you know, the definition of queerbaiting), and then instead of having a male love interest (Loki was the first queer main character, so it was the perfect opportunity) they gave us *gestures to this dumpster fire* this… it’s just a middle finger to LGBT fans. The fact that they would rather have this relationship with all its myriad of problems than have a gay relationship is just……. Very telling.

• While him being with a woman obviously doesn’t refute his bisexuality, the fact that they showed/talked about him being interested in 3 different women (flight attendant, Sylvie, Sif) and never even hinted at him being attracted to a man, definitely makes it seem like they were trying to cover up his bisexuality to smooth things over with the more homophobic viewers. You know? It’s like “I know you’re pissed that we sorta confirmed Loki as bi, so we promise we’ll never mention it again! Or even hint at it! As a matter of fact, we’ll give him lots of female lovies and make him seem as straight as possible! That’ll take your mind off of that horrible crumb of queer rep, right? Please please please keep giving us your money!!!”

• Aside from all the other issues, at its core, the biggest reason why I think I’m so irritated with s*lki is that it took one of the most interesting, complex, and diverse characters in cinema atm and squished him into a tired ass unnecessary heteronormative subplot…. Like literally every. single. other. protagonist. ever. Loki is such a unique character, and it’s so so so incredibly disappointing that they stuck him into that same boring cookie cutter romance that happens to every other character in every other movie I’ve ever seen. It’s a disservice, and it’s honestly just not compelling or entertaining at all.

Thematic Issues Galore

• His arc didn’t need a romance. With anyone. It was unnecessary and it didn’t make sense plot-wise. In fact, one of the reasons he was my fav prior to this was because he was the only big-name mcu character whose story wasn’t muddied-up by a romance that didn’t need to be there. So much for that.

• He wasn’t emotionally ready for a romantic relationship with anyone. Hell, just a genuine friendship would’ve been pushing it for him at this point. He was in such a bad state that any relationship he got into would’ve been toxic and unhealthy for both him and the other person, and it doesn’t make sense why the writers would want to put him in one when there were so many cons and essentially no pros (other than “Uwu aren’t they cute together”).

• Sylvie’s character in general was unnecessary and Loki’s character was robbed just by her being there. The whole show became about her post-Ep 2. They spent most of the time giving her backstory, building her up, telling us how awesome she is, trying to convince us to like her, etc when what they really needed to be doing was building Loki up- cause I gotta say, if I had to describe TVA!Loki in a few words, they would be Flat, Boring, and Weak.

• The romance overtakes the plot. They spend time portraying their supposed connection that could’ve been spent adding depth and complexity to literally any of the characters. They make the big Nexus Event them giving each other googly eyes on Lamentis when it could’ve been so many other way more profound things that speak to the fundamental nature of Loki’s. They have the climax of the finale be “oh no she betrayed him to kill He Who Remains” when it could’ve been something way more compelling (Loki having a moral crisis over whether or not to kill HWR, Loki contemplating the state of the multiverse and weighing the pros and cons of freedom vs order, Loki looking into some What If situations and getting emotional about what could’ve been regarding his family, Loki realising the gravity of HWR’s offer and finally coming to terms with how important he is to the universal cycle, etc etc). The entire plot suffered in favour of a romance that half of us didn’t even want.

• It essentially reduced all of Loki’s potential character growth down to “He did it for his crush.” He seemed to at least have some motivations of his own in Ep 1-2 (feeble as they were) but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, literally every action he took was just him being a simp for her. Why did he lie in the interrogation? To try to protect Sylvie. Why did he fight the minutemen and Timekeepers? To survive kinda, but mostly cause it was important to Sylvie. Why did he get pruned? Cause he got distracted trying to confess his crush to Sylvie. Why did he try to get out of The Void? Cause he thought Sylvie needed him. Why did he stay in The Void? Cause Sylvie was staying. Why did he try to enchant Alioth? Cause Sylvie told him to. Why did the multiverse get cracked open, leading to an infinite number of Kangs waging war on all of existence? Cause Loki didn’t wanna hurt Sylvie in their fight at the Citadel and then get distracted by her kissing him. It’s uninteresting and honestly pretty embarrassing.

• Throughout their “relationship arc” the writers do their absolute damndest to convince us that we should like Sylvie more than Loki. And you know what? It’s the most hypocritical shit I’ve ever seen. They preach and preach about how Sylvie’s life has been so difficult/we should feel bad for her/she had it so bad/poor poor sylvie/she had it SO much worse than pampered prince Loki…. But then they never even touch on any of Loki’s trauma of hardships (the ones that have been ignored for literally 3 movies now). They frame Sylvie as a good person and a Freedom Fighter after she spent literal decades/centuries mass-murdering brainwashed TVA agents and showing exactly zero remorse for it….. but then they make it their mission to constantly remind us that Loki is a terrible person and constantly put him in situations where he’s forced to acknowledge his wrongdoings/show remorse/admit to how “evil” he is for being a mass murderer for like 2 years. They show him on-screen having a wider range of powers than her, and perpetuate his whole shtick of being a “master manipulator” or whatever….. But then they make Sylvie “the brawn” more competent, intelligent, and physically capable than him. Tell me how it’s a good thing for a ship to be so narratively biased toward one character.

Missed Opportunities

• If they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, then they could’ve paired Loki with one of the characters that have already been established OR one of the characters that were a big part of the whole TVA storyline anyway. It would’ve been so interesting if they’d revealed that Loki had a history with some of the players from previous films (Sif and Fandral both come to mind). It also would’ve been really interesting if they’d given Loki a love interest that actually had some allegiance to the TVA as a whole (Mobius maybe, but not necessarily. It also could’ve been Renslayer or B-15). Hell, imo it would’ve been cool if they’d followed through with that “See you again someday” line that he said to the flight attendant in Ep 1. ALL of these characters have way more chemistry with him than Sylvie, and they were also already relevant to the plot without wasting half the show to give background info on them.

• If they absolutely had to have a hetero-presenting love story involving an enchantress-type figure, then there’s a whole Enchantress (Amora) that was actually Loki’s love interest in the comics. Plus, fans have been screaming for Amora to appear in the mcu for years. Plus, Tom literally pitched an Amora/Loki storyline way back in 2012-13. Also, Lorelei (another enchantress) is also one of Loki’s love interests in the comics, and she already exists in the mcu (she was on Agents of SHIELD). There were several different established characters for them to choose from. Creating a whole knew amalgamation of a character and going with the “she’s a Loki variant” storyline was just completely unnecessary and made no sense.

• They completely robbed us of a Chaos Twins dynamic. Had they handled Sylvie better and not forced her and Loki to smooch, the two of them could’ve had a really really complex and interesting sibling relationship. Loki could’ve stepped into Thor’s shoes and sort of used that new role to gain some self importance, and Sylvie could’ve finally had somebody to look out for her/teach her magic/be there for her. It would’ve been very aesthetically pleasing, the vibes would’ve been out of this world, it would’ve been way more profound than this bs, and frankly it would’ve been much more entertaining to watch.

• Loki’s relationship (read: obsession) with Sylvie completely overshadows all Loki’s other relationships in the show. Loki and Mobius were literally the focal point of the series in Ep 1-2, but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, they barely had any interactions with each other, and Mobius pretty much faded to the background entirely. Loki had the beginnings of a pretty interesting antagonistic relationship with Renslayer (with her wanting him pruned, then arguing with Mobius that he couldn’t be trusted), but after Sylvie showed up the dynamic shifted to focus on the history between her and Ravonna. Loki and B-15 started off very badly and openly disliked each other throughout Ep 1-2, and then in the end of Ep 2, Loki showed a little bit of concern for her when she was possessed, hinting that they might be inching toward a reconciliation- especially considering how obvious it was that Loki was gonna uncover the TVA’s sins eventually. There was so much potential for him to be the one to give her her memories back and convince her to change sides, but no, of course that honor went to Sylvie. In fact, after Sylvie showed up, Loki and B-15 never even spoke to each other again.

Various S*lki Fails

• If they were trying to convince us that this affection was mutual, they completely failed. There’s nothing I’ve seen that even hints at Sylvie feeling the same way about Loki that he does about her. At most, I’d say she has a slight endearment to him. She finds him likeable and she’s grudgingly fond of him, but she definitely isn’t in love with the guy. Maybe she thinks he’s cute and hopes that he gets out of this mess alright, but her mission obviously comes before him- whereas, it’s been confirmed multiple times that Loki cares about her above anything else. She doesn’t trust him, she looks at him like he’s an incompetent fool half the time, she shows little to no reaction during most of his confession moments, and she kissed him as a means to distract him so that she could get him out of her way. Look, all I’m saying is, when you get into a relationship where one of you is way more invested than the other, it never ends well.

• This goes without saying for a lot of us, but the selfcest is just straight up odd and cringey. If you’re cool with that sort of thing, fine! People can ship what they want! But don’t pretend it’s not at least a little bit uncomfortable. Yes, I know they’re not technically siblings so it’s not technically incest, and they’re also not technically the exact same person, but they’re similar enough that it makes things weird. And yes I know selfcest can’t happen in real life, so there’s no way to judge it morally, but neither can most of the other stuff that happens in these shows/movies (the Snap, Loki destroying jotunheim, superhero with powers being held accountable, mind control) and yet we still find ways to judge their morality, because they all mirror real-world events. (The snap= genocide; Loki destroying Jotunheim= bombing other countries; superhero accountability= weapons accountability; mind control= grooming and coercion). And lbr the closest real-world mirror to two versions of the same person (who may or may not share DNA, family, backgrounds, physical and emotion characteristics) being romantically involved with one another is incest. And you can be ok with that if you want- that’s your prerogative- but don’t get pissy just cause a lot of us are squicked out by it.

• The whole mirror metaphor (learning self love via each other) thing just fell completely flat. First of all, having Loki learn to love himself by looking at someone who mirrors him did not, in any way shape or form, require them to be romantically involved. But they were. Of course. Secondly, the creators have contradicted themselves so many times on whether Loki and Sylvie are the same or not, that it doesn’t even really register to the viewer that the mirroring thing was what they were going for. Finally, Loki and Sylvie are shown to have so little in common- and to have only the most bare minimum of similarities personality-wise- that it doesn’t even make sense that Loki would “learn to love himself through loving her”. Like? They’re nothing alike. So how would he make the connection that he himself is actually pretty cool, based on her alone? There’s virtually nothing in her that reflects him.

• I know the objective of the entire show was to convince us of how awesome and unique Sylvie is, but honestly her relationship with Loki just did the opposite. A hallmark of a Mary Sue is having her constantly upstage the male lead, and then having him instantly fall madly in love with her anyway. And that’s.. exactly what happened here. Everything they’re doing to try to force her character to be more stan-able is really just forcing her to look more like their self-insert OC. Which is exactly what she is. It would’ve been so much more satisfying if she didn’t have to try so hard to look cool, if they didn’t have to try so hard to make her backstory tear-inducing, if they didn’t have to turn our protagonist into a snivelling simp just to prove how incredible she supposedly is. Very much #GirlBoss energy and we all know how performative and cheap that is.

• The entire thing was too rushed, there was too little build-up, and it was nowhere near believable. As stated above, it’s ridiculously unlikely that Loki would canonically even be interested in Sylvie, and this show did nothing to explain why he was. He just suddenly was. There was nothing they showed us as viewers that would justify a guy as closed-off and preoccupied as Loki falling head-over-heels for a girl he just met. Their was no explanation, no big revelation, no reasoning, it just… kinda happened. And I’m also severely skeptical of any love story that has the characters go in this deep after only 3 45-minute episodes of exposition.

I’m sure there’s other stuff, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add it. Tagging @janetsnakehole02 @raifenlf @natures-marvel and @brightredsunset800 for expressing interest. This is all your faults.

#antisylki #loki meta #kinda #loki series critical #loki series negativity #anti loki x sylvie #anti loki series #anti sylvie #frosty bby #loki deserved better #I don’t even like TVA!Loki tho so I guess it doesn’t matter with him lmao #tva loki #loki laufeyson

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #cw: panic attacks #tldr: lambert has silent panic attacks at kaer morhen

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lettrespromises · 3 years

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#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam, forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away, nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess.

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.)

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko.

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes.

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

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dothwrites · 4 years

Note

97, maybe? For the prompts? :)

---

#97--When you smile, I fall apart

---

Dean watches silently as Cas rolls yet another t-shirt before putting it into his suitcase. Neither of them have spoken in what feels like days but has only been several hours. Their silence isn’t angry, nor is it comfortable. Dean doesn’t bother to pretend like he isn’t watching Cas’ every move as he carefully removes every part of himself from their dorm room.

His posters have already been taken down and rolled carefully. Cas told Dean he could sell them or throw them away, and Dean had nodded like he was agreeing, but Cas’ posters are currently taking up some prime real estate in the back of his closet, where they’ll stay for damn near forever. Cas’ pens, pencils, and other various supplies are carefully hidden in his desk, while his furniture sits, forlorn, on his side of the room. His mattress is stripped bare. The only thing which remains is for Cas to empty his drawers, which is a task becoming shorter with each shirt that disappears into his suitcase.

With a sensation like feeling his chest rip in half, Dean watches Cas examine each drawer. He closes them with a sense of finality before he turns to his suitcase. Tight lines of tension hold his shoulders in a defensive posture as he zips the case closed. Afterward, he continues facing away from Dean, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. His fingers curl into the stiff fabric of his suitcase, but he doesn’t speak.

That task falls to Dean.

“So, I guess this is it, huh?” Dean’s voice is too loud even to his ears, harsh and discordant in the silence of the room. “E.T. goes home.”

“Not particularly,” Cas answers. He keeps his face turned away, giving no indication to his mood. “It’s not home. Not really.”

“It’s not stopping you from going back.” Dean knows his voice is surly and hurt, but he can’t stop himself. Maybe if he hadn’t held all of this in, Cas wouldn’t be leaving.

“We’ve talked about this. I have to.”

Dean clenches his jaw and says nothing. All of his arguments--Your parents never cared about you, what difference does it make whether you go home or not, you shouldn’t throw away your future for people who don’t give a shit about you--have already fallen on deaf ears.

What tortures him are the unspoken arguments, the ones that have never been spoken aloud except to an empty room.

Please don’t leave me.

I love you.

Dean bites his lower lip to keep those words stoppered within him. He won’t say it, not now. Those words are like blackmail. If he said then, then he’d be no better than Cas’ shitty family, using ties of loyalty and obligation to force him into a decision. If Cas doesn’t decide to stay on his own merits, then Dean doesn’t want it at all. And Cas hasn’t decided to stay.

Three years, two of them as unlikely roommates, countless all-nighters and drunken binges, several extremely dicey situations, some of which made Dean think that maybe his interest in Castiel wasn’t as unrequited as he originally thought, and it all ends here. On an unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, with Cas’ bags packed and them waiting for the Uber that will take Cas away to the airport and out of Dean’s life.

“It’s not forever,” Cas finally says. “I’ll be back.”

“To visit,” Dean says, unwilling to be bought with pretty lies.

“To stay,” Cas insists. Dean wishes he would turn around. Cas is a difficult guy to read on the best of days, harder when all Dean has to go on is the shift of his shoulders.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

The second Cas got the call from his brother, Dean knew it was over. Cas’ father was dying and Cas’ presence was expected. He wouldn’t be able to finish the semester and would be forced to take an incomplete. His scholarships were in jeopardy, his re-admission status in peril. Cas had told him all of this and somehow managed to sound hopeful about this whole thing, but Dean had heard the unspoken truth underneath the words.

It was over. Cas wasn’t coming back.

“Dean.”

Dean looks up and meets brilliant blue eyes. Now, as always, he’s taken aback by their hue and the emotion which shines out of them. For all the times he’s accused Cas of being a robot, when you get down to it, Cas doesn’t have a damn poker face. He can keep his expression as stoic as he wants, but those baby blues betray him every single time. Right now, his eyes are welling over with an overabundance of emotion.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat with a painful hitch. He can’t do this right now. Not when his heart is ripping in two and Cas is standing less than an inch away from him. “Cas,” he says, trying for jovial and failing miserably, “your Uber is gonna be here soon, man.”

“That’s why I have to do this now.”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it, like a particularly stupid goldfish. For all of his reticence and silence, Cas has a habit of dropping hard truths right out of the blue, like the time they were in sophomore year and a little bit drunk and Cas grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with all the intensity of a slightly tipsy robot. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Cas had said, his normally rough voice gone subsonic. “We share a profound bond,” he continued, over Dean’s protests.

So Dean’s a little leery now that Cas is looking at him like he hears the ticking clock and that he realizes this is very much a go big or go home moment.

“I know that you don’t believe me, but I will be back.” Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Cas steamrollers directly over his objections by cupping Dean’s cheek. His hands are huge against Dean’s face, sturdy and warm. They’re hands Dean could trust, hands Dean wants to catch him every time he stumbles.

“This isn’t what I want. Dean, I know...” Cas falters, his thumb rubbing at the soft skin underneath Dean’s eye. “I know it’s a shitty time to do it, and I would understand if you tell me to leave and don’t want to talk to me anymore, but I...”

Dean can’t ever recall a time when Castiel had to grope for words. It’s happened twice in the past thirty seconds. Then Cas looks at him, his eyes like blue steel, and Dean gets ready for some hard truths to be dropped on him like an anvil on Wil. E. Coyote.

“You are the best person I’ve ever met. Everything about you--your kindness, your humor, your generosity--Dean, you’re my best friend.”

Dean’s heart sinks at that, but apparently Cas isn’t done dropping anvils. “And it’s stupid to want anything more, but I do, Dean. Dean, I want...”

Three times now that he’s rendered Cas speechless, but Cas has never been one to lose gracefully. Cas renders him speechless, thoughtless, weightless, and dozens of other ‘lesses’ as he leans forward and presses his lips gently to Dean’s.

It isn’t until Cas starts to pull away that Dean regains any semblance of rational thought. The thought of Cas leaving him is incomprehensible, unthinkable. Dean curls his fingers in Cas’ shirt and pulls him closer.

Cas’ lips are just as stupidly chapped and rough as he thought they would be, but he never could have imagined how soft they would feel underneath his. Even in his wildest fantasies, he never could have conjured up the rough, needy sound rumbling up from Cas’ throat as Dean licks across the seam of his lips. Cas opens his mouth and deepens their kiss, his fingers pushing into Dean’s hair as he pulls them closer.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispers. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched atop Dean, his forehead pressing into Dean’s. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to pull my head out of my ass. If I’d been thinking correctly, I would have told you how I felt years ago.” He tilts his head to kiss Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s heart cracks.

“You stupid idiot,” Dean says, before he takes Cas’ lips in an almost brutal kiss. “You could get so much better than me.”

“Impossible,” Cas tells him. “I could never want anyone else other than you.” He places a soft kiss at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Every time you smile, I fall apart.”

Dean lunges forward, wrapping Cas in a tight embrace. He wants to pull Cas into him, wants to wrap himself around Cas in such irreparable ways that Cas will never be able to scrub himself clean of Dean’s influence.

Dean’s arms wrap around Cas’ shoulders, as he grabs at the short hair at the back of Cas’ head. He licks into Cas’ mouth, determined to get to the root of him. He’s just pushing forward, Cas softening to accept him, when Cas’ phone rings.

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Dean pulls back, staring in muted horror at Castiel’s pocket.

His phone is ringing. Cas’ Uber is here.

“Cas,” Dean says helplessly, pulling Cas towards him. Their kiss is messy and desperate, teeth and tongues clashing as their fingers yank and tug. “Cas, don’t go, please don’t go--”

Cas’ hands frame Dean’s face, forcing Dean to look at him. “I’m coming back,” Cas promises. He grips Dean’s hair almost to the point of pain, but it keeps Dean’s mind from shattering. “Dean, you have to believe me. I’m coming back.”

He stares at Dean for one long, eternal moment, before he kisses him. Dean melts into Cas, clutching him so tightly that it’s a mystery as to how Cas winds up at the door, but he does. Dean leans towards him, feeling empty and cold.

Cas turns and looks at him. A dozen expressions cross his face as he allows his eyes to roam over Dean one last time. A thousand words swell in Dean’s chest--Don’t go, come back, don’t forget me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU--

But then the door closes and Cas is gone.

Dean collapses back on Cas’ bed, its mattress scratchy and uncomfortable without a covering or sheets. He curls into himself, knees pressed to his chest, and settles in to wait.

---

Three months later, Dean is awoken by the sound of the door creaking. He groans and shoves his face deeper into his pillow. “Benny, if you need your shit, it can wait until tomorrow. For now, I am asleep.” He drags his comforter up over his shoulder to punctuate the statement.

He thinks that is the end of it. That should be the end of it. Benny, while occasionally wildly inappropriate, will usually fuck off when told to fuck off. However, his hypothesis is shattered when his bed dips at the middle with the weight of someone settling onto his mattress.

“Benny, what the fuck--” He rolls over, freezing when he sees the silhouette of the person sitting on his bed.

Benny doesn’t have that particular level of messy bedhead. Or those shoulders, tapering down into strong arms, almost delicate wrists, and elegant fingers. Benny certainly doesn’t have a thousand yard stare that manages to pierce through him even when the lights are off and the only available source of illumination are the faint lights from the sidewalk three floors below.

Dean chokes on nothing but air and scrambles to sit up. His heart is beating a million miles a minute as it tries to crawl through his chest and out of his mouth.

“Cas?” he finally chokes, clutching his comforter to his chest like a quivering Victorian heroine.

A flash of white, a grin in the darkness. A strong warm hand, a hand that Dean can trust to catch him and lead him through the world, rests on his bicep. Dean feels the heat of it through his t-shirt.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel #college!au #roommates #angst #happy ending #of course dean and cas facetime all the time that cas is gone #but cas wants to surprise dean so he doesn't tell him when he's coming back #cas ends up being a year behind which means dean graduates before him #dean gets an apartment while cas is finishing his last year #cas calls dean his sugar daddy #dean is simultaneously offended and aroused

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 9

Day 9 - When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well. (Pirates and Sirens AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukeceit, Background Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: Swearing, murder mention, Remus being Remus, semi-detailed leg and fin injury

–

Those who ran afoul of The Witch’s Serpent rarely lived to tell the tale. Many a foolish young sea-farer - far too inexperienced and overly cocky - had met their end at the hands of the galleon’s captain long before they could even hope to make their mark on the open seas.

Captain Remus Gaspar was an impulsive, enigma of a man; capable of great feats of bravery and reckless daring do, alongside acts of cold blooded murder and remorseless torture inflicted upon those who crossed him. The sea choked on the bodies of his victims while he and his crew sipped the finest stolen wines with nary a hiccup. The naval officers of the mainland cowered in fear while Remus decimated their trade routes and sent their men to the depths to keep the fish company. In fact, only one man had faced the Captain and lived to see another day, but kept coming back for more.

Commodore Logan Callows.

Remus would have admired him - in all senses - if not for his fanatic loyalty to the crown and it’s laws. Make no mistake, Remus very much wanted Logan’s head for a bow ornament with every fibre of his mortal being, but outside factors forbade Remus from fatally wounding the man. Namely, Logan’s first mate and closest friend was his brother-in-law, Virgil Giordano. Why did Roman’s soulmate have to be a man who could rival any opponent in a knife fight, despite being the sort to panic over the smallest change in weather conditions? Remus had no goddamn idea what fate was playing at, but he knew for certain that killing Logan would result in having to run from Virgil’s swift and immediate crusade for revenge. And if there’s one thing Remus Gaspar refused to do, it wold be spending his life in hiding.

Remus loved his brother dearly but all the familial loyalty in the world wouldn’t save him from Virgil’s wrath. He’d learned that much from his last encounter with Logan’s ship, The Inquisitor. Too many cocky remarks and attempts to stall while his men pillaged the lower decks of the ship in secret had earned him a close encounter with the business end of Virgil’s dagger. Naturally, the Captain had made things worse by uttering a rather salacious remark for which he was gifted a shiny new slash mark along his cheek.

“As a warning.”, his brother in law had hissed.

When forced to retreat, Remus had lamented the size of their haul at first. Not nearly enough sugar and spices as they’d been hoping for, but a small crate of flintlock pistols ripe for sale more than made up for the loss once they’d been discovered among the spoils.

Thus we come to the present moment; Captain Remus, sat upon the docks with a bottle of expensive rum, staring out into the ocean blue. His men had been more than happy to give the Captain his space while they spent their time merrily drinking in the local tavern. Once he was sure he was alone, Remus removed his black leather bracer and rolled his white sleeve to stare at the message written upon it. The Captain had seen many an alphabet in his day - either scrawled upon the foreign exports stolen from trading vessels, or within his memories of home, being tutored alongside his twin as children - but Remus had never laid eyes upon the letters that adorned his skin in a shimmering golden cursive.

Naturally, ever since he’d first been written to, Remus had made an effort to search for the script, but the only ‘lead’ he had been given was an old woman selling wares a couple of ports prior who had raved on and on, claiming it to be the language of the sirens. He’d scoffed at the idea and decided it likely wasn’t worth trying to work out in the first place.

Remus had never been one to buy into this whole soulmates arrangement. Even the day Roman had shown him the violet cursive that had appeared like magic, Remus had rolled his eyes and sworn off taking such a thing seriously. After all, acknowledging that kind of thing brought about some rather unpleasant thoughts he would rather not think about. The fierce Captain liked to play remorseless, but in truth, Remus simply knew that life at sea demanded blood, and it was up to him whether it’d be the blood of his enemies, or his crew and himself. But that didn't stop his mind wandering into territories he wished it would stay out of. How many men lay on the sandy shores of the depths with messages from soulmates unaware of their beloved’s fate? Did severing the connection hurt? Would fate allow those whom he’d unknowingly widowed to love again? Or had he doomed them to a life alone with no one to share such a connection with ever again?

… More rum would be needed it seemed.

A clattering from the nearby rock shoal drew Remus out from his own mind with a couple of curses leaving the Captain as he knocked over the rum bottle and watched a good portion of it pour away before he could right it again.

“Son of a bitch!”, he hissed, corking it and casting a glare towards the rockpool where the clattering had come from. Whoever had just cost him a good amount of rum was in for the brawl of their life. Remus threw on his coat and cursed his inebriated steps over the craggy rock face, swearing once again as he nearly rolled his ankle when his boot sunk into an unseen rockpool. He wrenched his leg free and crested the large flat rock in his way.

The second his eyes could focus, Remus made a mental note to find that old woman on their round trip and apologise.

Sprawled on it’s side nestled in the sand was an honest to god siren. The Captain was mesmerised by the creature; it’s long golden hair flowed over it’s scaled shoulders and torso, complimented by it’s black and yellow streaked fin-like ears that fluttered angrily each time it hissed. It wasn’t hard to work out why it was so angry. The creature’s left leg fin had been hooked in a rather nasty mess of fishing line and barbed hooks. The Captain had seen the technique used before to ensure a plentiful haul, who knew it could catch such a creature of legend so easily?

Perhaps Remus was succumbing to the creature’s charms, or maybe he was just too drunk already to think things through, but he found himself whistling to the creature to catch it’s attention. The way the creature’s panicked, beautiful eyes met his own momentarily knocked the wind from his chest as he wheezed out, “Need help?”

It let out a strangled sound and scrambled backwards, only to let out a cry of pain as it’s injured leg dragged along the sand. The Captain dropped down from his rock perch and made his way over,

“Woah there! Unless you want that fin ripped out you should lemme unhook you-”

Despite the excruciating pain it must’ve been in, it still managed to hiss dangerously at Remus in a voice that felt like a million tiny hands groping around in his brain with every syllable,

“Stay back!”

Remus’ halted momentarily, the voice in his head warning him, “Come any closer and I won’t hesitate to eat you alive!”

In spite of any semblance of common sense, Remus impulsively shot a cocky grin the creature’s way, “Kinky!”

The siren wasn’t amused.

It lunged forward to swipe at Remus, but the Captain caught it’s arm, making sure his grasp wasn’t painful, but firm.

“Watch it, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out! Or maybe these beauties will just gouge a couple chunks outta my face-”

Remus’ rambling was cut short as he saw the siren’s expression shift from a ferocious snarl to one of immediate fear.

“Please don’t kill me-”, it murmured quietly, slapping it’s free hand over its mouth. It tried to change back to a more aggressive persona but Remus refused to be intimidated,

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you. Now are you gonna be a good lil fishy and let me unhook you?”

The siren scanned his face with those enchanting eyes once again, scrutinising every inch of Remus before it huffed and turned away from his gaze. The Captain took it as a sign of an indignant ‘do whatever you want’ and sat on the sand next to the siren, already beginning to carefully remove the hooks as best he could. Each wince the creature gave was met with an apology until Remus got the hang of it.

“.....What’s your name?”, Remus mused to the surprised siren, “Might as well get to know each other, right?”

The creature mumbled something Remus couldn’t understand under it’s breath but relented reluctantly, “My name is Janus. At least, that's how you humans would pronounce it.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Remus.”, the Captain mumbled, too hyper focused on removing the hooks to see the way Janus’ cheeks flushed a dark ochre colour. Once the last hook had come loose, both of them let out a shared sigh of relief; Remus admired his job well done but grew concerned as Janus went to stand up. “Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”, he warned, to which Janus scoffed, attempting to hide his emotions once more.

“I’ll be fine, Remus, I’ll heal quickly-”

“The salt water’s gonna sting like a bitch.”, Remus cut in.

Noting the wince Janus gave in response, he continued, “At least let me take you to my ship so I can bandage you up proper-“

“No!”, Janus declined fiercely, though he softened right after, letting Remus know it was likely a reflexive reaction, “I apologise. I… I’m rather wary of that kind of thing. Please understand.”

Remus sighed and stood up, taking off his coat to place it around Janus’ shoulders. The siren stiffened, though curiosity got the better of him and he softly touched the warm material. Janus inhaled and immediately was hit with the smell of the garment; a mix of body odour, dried blood, sea salt, and countless food-like smells. Not to mention the reek of old alcohol.

“In the name of Uranus, do you never clean this ornate rag!?”

Remus cackled, taking Janus’ hand to lead him to The Witch’s Serpent, noting that his fingers were webbed. Adorable.

“Nope! Not since I hauled it off the guy I ran through to get it!”

Janus’ nose crinkled at that yet the siren kept following Remus towards his ship. With a proper glance in the light of the port, Janus piped up, “Oh. That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“What is?”, Remus questioned, making sure no one was aboard yet so he could lift a flustered Janus on deck despite the embarrassed glare he received from the siren.

“I’ve been following your ship for months.”, Janus elaborated, trying to regain his footing on the decks, “With the scraps and bodies you leave behind in your wake, I rarely have to bother hunting for new prey.”

Ah. Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that yet, simply shrugging, “Good to know you’ve been freeloading this whole time.”.

Once more taking the hand of the siren, Remus led him towards the Captain’s Quarters; the room was just as gilded and ornate as the coat keeping Janus warm, with various trinkets, maps, paintings, and oddities given their own place within the room. Taking the opportunity to snoop around while Remus was rooting around in his desk drawer for bandages, Janus allowed his eyes to lead him on a journey around the room. A telescope, a star map, family photos, animal bones, even a goblet made from a man’s skull connected atop a metal stem, Janus had never seen so many interesting and macabre items. His interest peaked when his gaze landed on a beautiful topaz necklace resting on a book of fairytales.

Janus’ fingers traced the jewellery adoringly. It was rare for such trinkets to end up on the seafloor unless a storm had sent an unfortunate vessel to the depths. Not that Janus was ever lucky enough to get at the spoils; the boisterous captain may be sweet on him, for who knows what reason, but his own kind were never too fond of Janus’ standoffish nature and biting remarks. Of course, Janus didn’t care if he was lonely. He didn’t. Not at all. “You can have it if you want.”

Remus’ voice startled the siren who nearly tripped over the end of the Captain’s large coat. He chuckled and slowly lifted the necklace off the book to carefully let it loop over Janus’ neck.

“It suits you. Really brings out the scales.”, he complimented. Without giving Janus a second to process the act of kindness, Remus led him towards a wooden armchair in front of his desk. He guided Janus to sit down in the chair while Remus sat on the desk itself. To his side was a roll of bandages and a cloth, ‘for the blood trail’ he’d explained, gesturing to the droplets patterning their route. Janus watched the captain remove his bracers and sink to the floor to tend to his wounds. By the gentle way the Captain held and bandaged him, Janus assumed the man had sobered enough for the siren to pose the question,

“Why?”

Remus frowned, looking up to lock eyes with the siren, “Why what?”

“Why’re you...”, being so kind? Treating me so sweetly? Not trying to kill me to sell my skin? “.... treating me like this? You realise I threatened to eat you earlier, right?”

The Captain shrugged, his expression as blank as before, “Yeah. But you didn’t. And you got all fucked up in some moron’s fishing line, so it wasn’t like you posed much of a threat-”

“Exactly.”, Janus interrupted in frustrated confusion in his tone, “My voice is out of practice, if you wanted to, you could’ve slaughtered me for my skin. Any human would be a fool not to. But here you are, treating me like I’m worth more to you alive than dead. Adorning me in such… expensive trinkets.”

Remus’ brow furrowed at that. “For someone who threatened to eat me earlier, I figured you’d practice a little more self preservation.”

The siren scoffed, “I didn’t say I wanted to be slaughtered, I’m merely trying to work out why you wouldn’t take such a chance. Doesn’t your species enjoy monetary gain? Like I said, any human would be a fool to miss such an opportunity- oW!”

Janus fixed Remus a glare as the Captain flicked the abused tip of his leg fin, “First off, yeah, I like money but that's not what I do this shit for. Secondly, most humans think your kind aren’t even real. If I waltzed into town claiming I had siren skin to sell, I’d be run outta town as a conman. Besides, if I’m nice to you, I’ll have an ally in the water, and that's far more valuable to me.”

As he wrapped up the calf area for good, Remus grinned up at the siren, “You’re also really handsome, so that helps.”

Janus’ face crinkled in a flustered surprise, “Remus, I’m part fish-”

“You’re still handsome as fuck.”

“I’m not even using my human glamour-”

“And? You’re hot.”

“I’m literally covered in fish scales-!”

“Still hot!”

Janus couldn’t think of another rebuttal, so Remus counted it as a win for him. He rolled his sleeves to tackle the rest of the injuries when he caught Janus’ eyes tracing the fresh scar on his cheek.

“Wondering how I got this scar?”

“I may be interested.” came the coy reply.

Remus smirked, “You could call it a gift from my brother-in-law. I got a little too up close and personal with his best friend and found up with this beauty. It’s a shame, said bestie’s pretty fun but he’s the biggest pain in my ass since this one time I ate some bad eels-”

“That’s charming,”, Janus interrupted in disgust, “Why don’t you simply dispatch this ‘bestie’ and be done with him?”

“Can’t. If I did that, Virge-”

“Who?”

“My brother-in-law.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“Virge would hunt me down to the ends of the Earth and the last thing I wanna do is trade away my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want.”, he averted his gaze to Janus’ leg and kept bandaging it; whoever had put that line into the ocean had no idea the damage it’d caused to such a beautiful creature. “Besides, if I hurt Virge like that, my brother Roman would be miserable. Even if he probably hates me, some dumb bitch part of me really doesn’t want him to feel like shit just ‘cause I went and upset his soulmate.”

Janus scoffed quietly. It lacked the venom he no doubt intended it to have but the disdain was enough to draw the Captain’s attention. “You humans are far too sentimental. My kind have no qualms treating even close family like scum if we so desire. Even our soulmates it would seem..”

Remus caught the darting glance Janus sent towards his scaled wrist, noting the sigh he suppressed. “.... They’re a damn fool to not want you.”, the Captain murmured thoughtfully as he finally finished the upper shin bandaging. He wiped his brow with the heel of his palm but stopped as he felt smoothe fingers wrap around his wrist. His confusion was answered as the siren bore holes into the sliver of writing on his arm with those mesmerising eyes.

“You’re not the only one having soulmate trouble,”, Remus began answering, “Never really cared much for this shit, but now I got a message, I can’t make heads or tails of it-”

“Help me. I need you.”

Remus locked eyes with Janus, the siren’s own eyes wide with realisation and looking ready to bubble with tears, “That's what it says. It’s in Aquan. I wrote that to my soulmate while I was feeling…. rather vulnerable.”

Unsure of how to react to this turn of events, Remus stood and sat on his desk once more. He was too stunned to reply at first. A million questions swelled and crashed upon the shores of his brain, all fighting to be asked, but Janus beat him to the punch.

“Why did you never write back?”, the hurt in his voice stabbed at the Captain’s heart, “I mean, even if you couldn’t understand me, why didn’t you just...”

Remus wasn’t sure himself. No, that was a lie. He simply never fathomed that the message had been a cry for help.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”, he began, looking to Janus - no, his soulmate, and asking in return, “What happened?”

Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, “.... It was a moment of weakness but….. My family had cast me out. Not that it was all too surprising, nor could I stand most of them anyway, but… being left alone to wander by yourself is a rather terrifying thought no matter the situation. I’d reached my breaking point. I felt like I’d been abandoned by my kin entirely. I thought perhaps my soulmate would be there for me. I never imagined you were human.”

“Makes sense. I’m sorry your family sucks ass.”. Eloquent as always. But hey, the snicker that got from the siren was worth it in Remus’ eyes. “And I’m sorry I didn’t write back. But I guess it’s good we finally crossed paths.”

Remus gestured for Janus to join him on the desk, to which the siren accepted the offer, being careful not to catch the coat he was still adorned in on anything on the way up. With his soulmate seated by his side, Remus wrapped an arm around the siren and held him close. Janus gave a lop-sided, fond smile, leaning into the act of comfort and gently resting a hand on Remus’ chest.

“What now then, my Captain?”, Janus’ voice was as soft and sweet as a ripe peach. Remus knew it’d require a lot of explanation where his crew was concerned, but he wasn’t about to let Janus slip away from him. He pressed a kiss to the siren’s temple, relishing the blush that spread over Janus’ cheeks. With a grin, Remus cackled,

“Simple, we make good on this alone time we’ve got ‘til my crew get back!”

Sorry this one’s so late TTvTT I miight need some time to finish days 10 and up, but I’ll get things written asap. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

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dawninlatin · 3 years

Text

‘tis the damn season, chapter 1

A belated gift for @ladywitchling <3 Merry Christmas my love, hope you appreciate this as much as I appreciate you!<3

Words: 1728

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Manon prepares to spend Christmas alone. Little does she know Elide has other plans...

«Are you sure you’re fine with being alone on Christmas?»

Manon couldn’t help but sigh, hoping that Asterin wouldn’t hear it through the phone. She appreciated her cousin’s worrying, but calling four times a day to check in was a bit excessive.

«Yes, Asterin.» She twisted in her office chair, opening her laptop. «It’s not as if we ever did anything special for Christmas anyway.» Manon glanced at the clock, then at the amount of unopened emails. It would be a while before she was done for the day, but she didn’t mind. No one was waiting for her.

Elide had left this morning to spend the holiday with her family, and without the presence of her cheery girlfriend, Manon didn’t really see the point of celebrating Christmas. She had received an invitation to join Asterin, but she had a family of her own now. Manon would only feel like an intruder the whole night.

As if she’d read Manon’s mind, Asterin said from the other end of the line, «Not doing much for Christmas isn’t the same as being alone.»

«I know that, but-»

Before she find a way finish that sentence, Asterin interrupted her again. «Can’t Elide-»

«Elide has already left to celebrate with her family, as she should.» Manon tried to ignore the sound of defeat in her voice as she yet again was reminded of how empty their apartment would be. Maybe that was why she’d decided to work overtime on Christmas Eve.

Saying goodbye to her girlfriend earlier today had been torture, and all Manon had wanted was to pull Elide into a tight embrace and spend all of Christmas cozied up in bed, just the two of them.

She didn’t though. Instead she put on a brave smile and held back her tears as her favorite person walked out the door.

Rolling her eyes at her own dramatics, Manon said to Asterin, «Christmas is overrated anyway. And I mean it when I say I don’t mind being alone.»

Liar. Dirty, filthy liar.

«Okay,» Asterin sighed at last, obviously spotting the lie, but playing along nonetheless. «You’re probably happy to finally have some peace and quiet.»

«Damn right I am,» Manon smiled, her heart once again filling up with love for her cousin. Before Elide, Asterin had been the only person Manon had. The two cousins had been raised by the same cruel grandmother, and it had made them inseparable, always looking after one another.

«I’ll leave you to it then. I need to take a long nap before I can do anything else. Willow kept us up all night.» Asterin yawned, and Manon chuckled slightly at the sound of her tired cousin. Being the mother of a one-year-old wasn’t easy. Especially not when that one-year-old was also the daughter of Fenrys Moonbeam.

Speaking of the devil… «You still talking to The Grinch?»

Manon tipped her head back and laughed as Fenrys’ voice filled her ear. The nickname was one he’d lovingly began to call her after she’d voiced her aversion for the bright and merry season.

«Hello to you too, Fenrys.»

«Wait a moment,» Asterin suddenly said. «I’m turning on the FaceTime camera.»

Manon could hear some shuffling coming from the phone she’d pulled away from her ear, and then the small family filled her screen. She smiled warmly at the sight of a very tired Willow, who looked like she’d just been woken up from a nap of her own by the way her soft curls stood in every direction and how she clung to her father.

«Hey Willow,» Manon cooed, and the little girl’s face lit up at the sight of her auntie.

She babbled some nonsense, and Asterin handed her the phone, which she immediately put in her mouth.

«No!» Asterin was quick to steal the phone back, but the glare Willow gave her had Manon laughing again.

«Alright, it looks like someone is hungry, so I’ll hang up now.» Manon waved at her niece. «Bye, Willow!»

«Can you say bye to auntie Manon?» Even after a year, she still filled with pride whenever anyone called her that, and as Willow waved enthusiastically, Manon forgot all sadness from earlier.

Pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek, Fenrys took Willow and left the frame. «Let’s go and feed The Kraken!»

«Fenrys!» Asterin called after him, but she was grinning.

«Merry Christmas, Asterin,» Manon said softly, ready to turn her attention back to her work.

«Merry Christmas, Manon. I love you.»

«I love you too,» she replied, and hung up.

Manon debated calling Elide as well, while she was at it, but it was getting dark outside, so she decided it was best to just finish for the day and go home to suffer through Christmas alone.

Three hours later, Manon was finally finished with her workload. There was only one last thing to do…

Groaning as she got up from her desk, Manon made her way towards the office of the only other person grumpy and joyless enough to spend the holiday at work.

If Manon was the Grinch, Lorcan Salvaterre had to be something far, far worse.

She knocked on his door, and he responded with an annoyed «What do you want.»

Stepping into his office, Manon scowled at the sight of her least favorite person in the world. She really didn’t have the patience to deal with this today.

«I’m done for the day, so I just wanted to check if you got the files I sent you,» Manon stated, examining her nails with a bored look on her face.

Lorcan’s signature frown entered his face as he checked his email, then looked back too Manon. «Yeah, so you can leave now. I wanna work in peace.»

«Too bad I came here to chit-chat then, since you’re like, my favorite person in the whoooole world,» Manon deadpanned, turning on her heel so she didn’t have to stay a minute more in his miserable presence.

Manon and Lorcan saw each other an awful lot for basically being archenemies. It wasn’t enough that they worked together. No, two years back, Elide had been taking her to a party so she could finally meet her friends, and none other than Lorcan fucking Salvaterre had greeted them, his smile quickly shifting to a scowl as Manon had muttered a not-so-quiet you’ve got to be kidding me.

Thinking about the memory, she stopped in the doorway, her longing from earlier having returned at full force. A small smile played on her lips as she looked over her shoulder. «Have a shitty Christmas, Salvaterre.»

Lorcan let out a small chuckle. «You too, Blackbeak.»

Sitting on the train, Manon suddenly began to regret not decorating the apartment. It felt wrong to know that she was on her way to an empty apartment, as ordinary-looking as always, when she was surrounded by so many people dressed in finery, on their way to see friends and family, twinkling lights passing in a blur.

A wave of sadness rushed through her. She would have given anything to have Elide by her side right now, holding her hand, talking about her day, smiling, laughing, just being there.

Actual tears burned behind her eyes then, and Manon silently cursed Christmas for making her so emotional. She never cried! And now she was being all sappy because she’d been away from her girlfriend for a grand total of ten hours. What was wrong with her?

Her phone chimed in her purse, interrupting her sad music video moment, and when Manon saw who had texted her, she had to fight even harder to hold back the tears.

Elide<3: You on your way home yet?<3

Manon: On the train now

She thought for a second, before sending another message.

Manon: Thinking of you<3

Elide<3: Thinking of you too, can’t wait to see you again<3<3

Had her younger self seen this, she would have snorted at the sappy words and heart emojis, but there was no denying it, no one could resist the charm of Elide Lochan.

Looking up once more, Manon saw that it had started to snow, the world already covered by a white blanket.

Next year she would accept Asterin’s invitation, Manon promised herself.

Standing before her door, Manon spent longer than necessary fumbling for her keys. Maybe some part of her didn’t want to enter the empty apartment, she was mature enough to admit that.

Because whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, it was Christmas, and she was sad because Elide wasn’t there, and her home wasn’t decorated and her dinner was a miserable plate of yesterday’s leftovers and her only plan was to watch a movie, alone.

Manon let out a sigh as she let her head hit the door, needing a moment to gather herself. «it’s your own fault for trying to be so fucking independent and untouchable the whole time,» she whispered.

She gave herself one more second to brood, then she twisted the key and eased the door open.

A few steps into the hallway, Manon stopped short, a confused look on her face. She’d turned off the lights this morning, hadn’t she? And was that…?

It was music, the soft tones of some Christmas song, coming from the kitchen.

Looking around, there were even a few decorations put up, a mistletoe hanging over the entrance to the living room.

«Hello?» Manon called, not letting herself really think about who this had to be. Not letting that kind of hope come to life.

Heart pounding in her chest, she stepped into the living room, and could do nothing but gasp in awe as she took in her surroundings. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, the room lit up by its softly glowing lights, and everywhere there were little trinkets and other decorations. On the mantel of the fireplace was a picture of her and Elide that hadn’t been there before. It was from last week, Manon recognized, when they’d been at the Christmas market, and on the frame were the words: Make the yuletide gay. A bubbling laugh escaped her, and she couldn’t hold the tears back this time.

A voice sounded from the kitchen, and Manon turned around, only to be met by a pair of shining eyes and a bright smile.

«Merry Christmas, my love.»

Taglist: @ireallyshouldsleeprn @ladywitchling

I keep a separate taglist for every ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

#malide #manon x elide #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #asterin blackbeak #fenrys moonbeam #asterin x fenrys #fensterin #sarah j maas #sjm #throne of glass #tog #queen of shadows #qos

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salenakingston · 3 years

Text

Mystery March Day 22 - Love/Hate

(Well here we are again. @kanaiekla, after all the kind words, I couldn’t get this out of my head. I originally had another idea for today, but this works out much better. A short little gift fic for you and a cruel irony of a prophetic love. Hope you can handle more love <3)

Love is supposed to be a beautiful thing. An emotion shared between two beings, whether it be a close connection from someone that was once a stranger, or those they lived with their entire lives. There was another type of love, a care born out of taking in a stranger, but one that could be considered family as much as a biological bond. Such acts of love were shared in compassion, tender touches, honesty, devoid of lies, trust.

This is not love…

If this was love, then it was disgusting, rotting. There was no compassion, no honesty, and certainly no trust. Well, that demon would argue otherwise. A claim of giving everything to his new wife… anything and everything he could have ever wanted. Compassion composed of ice, the rough touch of sharp claws boring into his skin, texture of scales, a snake’s tightening grip around its prey. Cutting off his air. No room to breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Honesty was always laced with lies, promises of peace and mercy burned. A silver tongue seeking to fulfill selfish needs. But he is too selfish isn't he? That's what he has always been told. His own needs should never come before others. In life… and in love. But this wasn't love.

It was torture.

There was no trust, well there was. A puppet on strings, a controller to guide his every move. What freedom there was was an illusion. Any choice against the dark path was swallowed. Light was nonexistent in the world. Even the natural beauty under the sun shriveled in death and rot. How could he ever trust this demon that cared for no one else. He was not a wife, not even a lover. A tool, to be used for the rest of his days.

How could he continue to call himself a divine? They were a shining beacon, something for those to look up to. When their worlds were full of darkness, they were the tiny light one could reach out to. What did he have to offer them? A polluted soul. A darkness thick as ink, and just as hard for anyone to escape from. Yet they still looked up to him. They adored him, but only one claimed to love him.

Lies.

It was a strange feeling welling inside of him, an eternal fire with nothing to extinguish the spreading flames. He was certain if the flames were real, they would lick the band which tied his hair back, making it fly in every direction. Divines were meant to be peaceful by nature, but the introduction of one man made this one prince want to turn back on every law that defined him by his status.

End him.

Save me.

A burning hatred.

That was the word. He hated the cold touch where there should be warmth. He hated the cruel words, snake. He hated how every attempt at love was greeted with flinches, and a scorching desire to push the demon as far away from him as possible. Touches sent chills through his body, even though covered nearly from head to toe in warm wraps. Were it not for the fact that a certain order must be maintained, he might be able to find comfort in a single guest room rather than the husband he shared his unholy union with.

But that was selfish.

His needs came second, or were never to be spoken of at all. Unimportant. Every attempt to speak up for himself was shot down, the flames fanning further inside his tainted soul. One seven letter word silenced his voice. So much he wished to cry out, mercy to beg for. It escaped him, like everything else. He was to be molded to be perfect, but in whose image? Never his own.

A man of the people, of his kingdom.

But how could he feel anything but hate for a man he would refuse to call his husband outside the public eye? Never love. But then again, what was the alternative? If ever he didn’t immediately back down from the warnings, or did not do as the demon pulled him to, it was met with pain. Purity stained in black and red. Rotting soul.

It must stay hidden. None could see his weakness. They knew of it, but could not see it. He did not run his kingdom, the devil did. No attempt to make him see the error of his ways would be met with a smile. He was flawless. No, he was always the problem. Punishments kept him in line, tears and unanswered cries rang around him. Even fleeing from the man every chance he could was not enough.

Eventually he would have to come back into the constricting, suffocating hold.

The Old Gods were supposed to be looking out for him, answering him when he sent them his prayers. Why would they not answer to a divine? Was it because of this pollution? Why had they forsaken him when he desired their words the most. Even in the most holy place, his only sanctuary, he was left alone. In pain. To suffer a cruel love filled with hate.

But then a miracle.

A sea of blue, a stranger on holy ground. A place of legend discovered, and he in turn. This blue was not cold, nor drowning him in its grasp. A bright sky, breaking through the black. A kindness was given, even when he felt it was undeserved.

Then another, a lavender with a strange smell. The warmth was not as chaotic as his burning heart. He deserved every bit of pain for being so weak. Stand up to evil. You’re a divine. Weak. Selfish. Corrupted by that demon. But, one chose to see through a different light. His savoir, both of them. How could he ever repay them for all they had done for him?

Their colors filled his mind, clinging to them to pull him out of the abyss.

The more he saw them, the more the tar and ink slipped away. A new love was discovered.

And a new spark of hatred formed in another.

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #msa au #my writing #my submission

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starrywriting · 4 years

Text

nsfw alphabet

kylo ren

an: well well, how the tables have turned. i remember i used to be petrified at the thought of writing smut, and yet, here i am. i’d call me writing smut a... character development of sorts :P

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Despite seeming as though he has a rough exterior, and though at times he takes his anger out on you in the sense of sexual endeavors.. he always makes sure you’re aware of how much you mean to him by the end of it all

He would take you in his arms, and press kisses along your shoulders

He would start a warm shower, and though he would be more than happy to join, he would also understand if you wanted alone time. After all, his emotions would get the best of him at times, and your repeated orgasms, or lack thereof under his pretenses, would leave you with heightened sensitivity; both physically and emotionally

He would clean you up, and if he had the time, take his time to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while also letting his fingertips press into your temples

All around, his aftercare is a direct juxtaposition to his character

But you tend to bring the best out of him

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your boobs!!

As pubescent teen as that sounds, he enjoys your breasts for more than just-- being boobs, ya know?

He likes laying on them and hearing your heartbeat throughout the night

He likes how they look in your bras

Or your clothes, whenever the neckline is low enough to see them

BUT! most importantly, he likes your boobs because of the sensitivity that tends to pool whenever he places his hands on the supple skin

He likes to hear your mewls and groans as his hands trail up the valley of your breasts before gently engulfing one of your breasts into his palm

Or how your back arches as he nips at your nipple in rhythm with his hips thrusting against yours

He likes the idea of being able to work you up, and heighten your arousal, all while not touching you where you needed him most

And, don't get him wrong, he also just loves to suck the skin of your breasts until it’s littered with hickeys

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves nothing more than to have you on your knees in front of him, your hand stroking his cock until his member would twitch in your palm, followed by the hand in your hair tightening its grip

The sight of you, mouth agape and tongue ready for his cum always sent him over the edge, into the blissful tranquility of his orgasm

So, there was no denying how much of a fan Kylo was of cumming on your face, and watching as your rosy cheeks and pretty lips got coated

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Because Kylo was so passionate about the job bestowed to him, he hardly ever mixed work with pleasure, his pleasure being you, obviously

He liked to be able to spend a few hours working with generals, and then come home to you, where the stress of work seemed like nothing but a bad dream

Or he loved to be able to talk for an hour at a conference meeting, and still catch you on your way out alongside everyone else, and feel his troubles melt away

However!

He couldn’t deny how badly he would love to take you, bend you over one of the control panels, and hear as you mewled out his name for everyone around to hear

He wasn’t normally one for exhibitionism, however, the idea of his inferiors knowing just how good of a lover he was over every other thing he was also good at, made his breaths speed up in excitement

In simple words, he would love to take you, bend you over the closest surface, whether that be the conference table, or some random control panel and have you any way he wanted to

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Because his life, for the longest time, revolved around training to be a Jedi, then to fit the mold Snoke and his grandfather left him to fill, he had never had any sexual relations before

However, that never was an insecurity for him because he knew what he liked

So, when he met you, he did share the fact that he was a virgin, but there wasn’t an ounce of embarrassment in his eyes

His lips didn’t quiver, nor did his eyes waver

He brought it up so nonchalantly, that you couldn’t help but blink, slightly dumbfounded

He had admitted it when he was merely getting ready for the day, hair still damp and shirt still off after his shower

And though he had important meetings to attend to, and basically a whole battalion to run, that still didn’t stop him from proving you wrong when you teased him about it as he patted the towel against his skin to dry off

He had given you a few warnings to seize the teasing as he finished drying himself, but he could still hear you snickering under your breath as he finished up getting ready

Let’s just say that though you continuously pestered Kylo with your lighthearted teases, he had you screaming his name like a prayer for the following two hours

Which not only proved you wrong, but proved to Kylo that though he had never experienced it prior, he knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted from his sexual partners, and exactly how to get what he wanted out of them

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Because he tends to be both a top and a power bottom, he has two favorite positions

The first is when he’s on top of you, and he can watch you unravel at the seams

He loves to watch your eyes, ever so lust blown, and your lips, ever so swollen as you cried out in pleasure from his unwavering ministrations against your core, and his relentless fingers working against your clit in attempts to feel your legs shake just one more time as he milked out your orgasms

He would most definitely hike your ankle over his shoulder, and grind into your hips until he could feel you clench around him and writhe under him

On the other hand

He loved when you were on top, and he could reach for your wrists and grip them tightly behind your back

He would hold you tightly against his chest, teeth digging into your shoulder as he shamelessly groaned up a slew of curses under his breath at the feeling of your hips circling against him in a tortuously slow pace

After all, Kylo was more of a fast-paced lover, so your slow movements and gentle touches felt undeniably like torturous teasing

But he loved it

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When it comes to your pleasure, he doesn’t fuck around

Point blank

Sure, he is kind and loving while having sex

And he doesn’t make things awkward, but he also doesn’t try and downplay just how passionate both of you could get

He didn’t want to not amplify just how fucking good your skin felt-- hot, against his fingertips

Or how fucking good your cunt treated him as he thrust into you in search of euphoria

So, while he was a kind and loving partner, it was obvious how much he valued both making love to you, and fucking you until you knew nothing but his name

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Everyone knows how luscious Kylo's hair is, so I would say the carpet does match the drapes in a sense

He wouldn’t be completely clean of hair, but he would certainly be manicured and well kept

He really valued hygiene, and so he was always certain that he was well-kept

It was just his own preference

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If he’s fresh out of a meeting with Snoke, or the council members, where he felt undermined, he would treat you kindly because he felt that he had to prove to both himself and you that he was still worthy of being more than a shadow

However, if he was coming to you after a frustrating day dealing with inferiors around him, or particularly, General Hux, then he wouldn’t hesitate taking his anger and frustrations out on you in the form of sensual punishments, and hands tugging at your hair

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does masturbate, and while he doesn’t do it too often, there are still times where he finds himself wishing he could be with you whenever he was off on a long mission

So instead of bottling up his arousal, he simply worked himself up at the thought of your hand being the one stroking him, rather than his own

However, there were also times where he masturbated because his horniness got the best of him, and he felt bad for demanding too much from you

After all, he valued you, and respected you

The last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he merely saw you as a means to drain himself of his arousal

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of the tamer, but always constant kinks of Kylo’s would be his infatuation with hair

More specifically, he loved pulling your hair

He liked to braid his fingers into your hair, and tug it as your lips sucked his cock

He always tugged your head back by pulling your hair whenever you were on top of him so he could place hot and heavy kisses against the skin of your collarbones

And he always played with your hair once the both of you were spent, and just basking in each other's warmth and languid breaths

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As vanilla as it seems, his favorite place would probably be either his bedroom or yours

Because he likes taking his time to work you through multiple orgasms

And he hates having to muffle your moans or stifle his own

So he prefers sex in the bedroom because that means he can have you any way he wants, without the worry of someone interrupting

And without trying to stifle your angelic moans that ring in his ear, even hours after your guys’ shared endeavors

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Though he would never admit to it, your teasing really gets him riled up

He always can feel the arousal working its way up his veins whenever you would place lingering touches to his arm, or leg

Or how you would keep unwavering eye contact with him in a conversation, but undeniably start to watch his lips move

Oh, how he loved reading your teasing body language and figuring out exactly what you wanted

He also loved seeing you dressed up

Normally, he wasn’t someone to go to social gatherings, however, he found himself going to banquets as an excuse to see you in dresses with deep plunged necklines, or dresses that showed your leg through a teasing slit he knew he would be staring at all night

Any excuse to see you in expensive fabrics, he would shamelessly follow-through

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)\

Purposefully hurt you

Sure, you both always walked a fine line between pain and pleasure, but he would never want to blatantly cause you any pain

You were the only thing that seemed to ground him-- make him feel sane and normal within the conflicting thoughts in his head

So why, in any way, shape, or form would he hurt you? Even worse, for pleasure?

That's where he drew the line and vowed to never cross it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes receiving because he gets to watch as your innocent eyes contrast against the sinful slurs and slurps that filled the room as your lips and hands worked at his cock

And he loved to guide your head, warm hands placed gingerly in your hair to aid in keeping it out of your face, but also to feel as you moaned around him whenever Kylo would tug at your hair

But!

He also loves going down on you, because it's his time to truly feel how you wither and writhe under his touch

How you moan his name as his tongue circles your clit

Or how your hips buck in avail since his arms are pinning you down against the bed

He loves how you taste; the salty and sweet combining to make the unmatchable taste of your arousal that he was undeniably addicted to

He likes how your hands tug at his hair in desperation

Or the moans that fall from your lips as one of his hands snaked its way up the valley of your breasts until his palm was hot against your neck, tightening ever so slightly

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the circumstances, and the mood

Because obviously, he isn’t going to force you into a rough fuck when you're wanting nothing more than gentle caresses and reassurance

So really, it depends on the body language your exhibiting

He wants to please you, over all else, so he ensures that he’s working for your needs

Because after all, your mouth and cunt always send him over the edge, no matter the pace

So having to choose between the two for your sake is never a problem for him

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s always down for a quickie as long as they’re remotely appropriate

He obviously won’t fuck you five minutes before an important mission, but he isn’t opposed to taking you in the shower, thirty minutes before he’s set to leave alongside Phasma for a minuscule meeting with an ally planet on the terms of some idiotic trade agreement

And he isn’t ashamed by the fact that he would happily bend you over the meeting table after feeling your hands wander against his thighs the entire meeting

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s open to practically anything that doesn’t openly involve his triggers

He’s lived a hard, and traumatizing life, and so while he’s willing to try anything along the spectrum of sexual rendezvous,, he still has his boundaries

He isn’t too keen on hurting you outside of slaps to your ass, or rough cups of your chin in attempts to keep your brattiness in check

He doesn’t find pleasure in destroying the one thing he found comfort in

However, if you wanted to try a new position, he was more than happy to oblige

And, really, he was normally the one to suggest a new position, or bring up a new petname

After all, he had been the one to pull you onto his face after being gone on a long mission so his tongue could work you through orgasm after orgasm to make up for being gone for so long

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The man n e v e r t i r e s

He could spend hour after hour thrusting his hips into yours

He could spend a whole day between your legs

And he would never tire from kissing and nipping at your breasts

He was always down for sex, whether that meant passionate love-making, or rough fucking as he held you by your neck

He wasn’t too picky

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own them, no

But when he realized that you had one, he was eager to see just how quickly you could come undone under the vibration of the toy on your clit, and the feeling of his cock so slick and deep in your cunt

After his first experience with your simple toy, he would always encourage you cheekily to get more

Of course, he would never admit that he wanted you to have more for his sake of using them on you,, but deep down, he loved being able to unravel you with a few languid thrusts and an unwavering hand as it held the handle of a vibrator

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t necessarily try to tease you

But the way he holds himself in any given situation is enough to turn anyone on

The way he regards you with sharp eyes

The way his hands clench and unclench around themselves brings nothing but memories of how his hand feels around your neck

And though he isn’t one to openly touch you in front of others

He isn’t one to stray from checking you out

After all, half the clothes he brings you he picks specifically for him to be able to look at you in dull meetings and imagine just how perfectly you felt that same morning

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

At first, he wasn’t too fond of the sound of his own moans

He thought he sounded meek, and weak

But after your own coaxes, and telling him that his moans made you feel like you were doing something right

He began to experiment outside of his comfort zone

He started to moan in your ear

To moan out your name with a slur of cuss words following at the sight of you on your knees

All of that led to him finally just letting loose

He moaned and groaned your name, voice raspy and strained, but undeniably hot

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His dirty talk is truly indescribable

You weren’t sure how he managed to understand just how to send you over the edge with simple words, but whenever he spoke lowly in your ear, hips bucking into yours, you knew it was only a matter of seconds until you were clenching around him and arching your back off the silk sheets of his bed

“You’re pussy is so good to me”

“Yes, clench around me just like that, princess”

“That’s it, take my cock, princess. You’ve been begging for my cock all day”

“Look at me. I want to see you come undone”

“What do you need, princess? Do you want to cum? Are you asking permission to cum? Hmm?”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Years of training under relentless masters has left him with two things

Muscles that looked carved by the Gods, as they rippled and pulled themselves taut with every movement he made

And scars

Scars that lined his knuckles

And slashed at his rib cage

At first, he was embarrassed about the wear and tear on his skin, but seeing as you never failed to press languid kisses to his scars, he grew to appreciate them more

They told his life story quite well

At least that’s what you told him

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High.

Although he hates to admit it because he thinks it makes him look weak, and needy

Kylo is always horny

He is always more than happy to have you kneel in front of him and take his length into his mouth

Or lift your skirts and dresses up to pin you against a wall and watch as you shook and clenched in ecstasy around his cock

There was hardly ever a time where he’d say no to sex

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Kylo had always struggled with sleeping at night

He had so much weighing on his mind

His father, his mother, his master, his old friends, and longing for his past life

While also despising everything about the old him

He was always so torn that he had eventually just tried to avoid sleeping in hopes to avoid the waves of reality crashing in on him every night

Until you came along

Even before you both had started having sex with each other, Kylo found himself sleeping so delectably well whenever you were in his arms

So, after at least an hour of hearing your moans, and feeling you around his cock

And after the both of you were well spent, and rosy with an orgasmic glow...

Sleep always felt so warm, and snug afterwards

He always tried to make sure you fell asleep first though, in case he had hurt you, or done something you didn’t like during sex

But, once he felt the stillness of your breaths, and how they grew into a gentle lull of small rises and falls of your chest, he would pull you close and follow suit. He would dream of the same things, his mother and father, his past life and the tear within himself that consisted of Ben and Kylo-- but none of that felt as troubling to him anymore, not when you were right next to him

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scripttorture · 3 years

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I have a weird scenario and i want to ask about its implications, mostly focusing on soliditary confinement aspects. So I am writing about this all powerful being who is immortal+eternally youthful (with a human like mind) who gets trapped in basically a big snowglobe created by his powers. Its a big mostly open space set inside a forest with a magic mansion to occupy him and provide him basic needs and the limits of the globe are very defined. {1/4}

{Weird anon} After some time alone he comes to create a friend to accompany him and make sure everything goes well during his absence using his powers. This friend can and does leave for periods of time to fullfill his duties but comes back. The being also realises during his imprisonment his powers dwindle with time and the globe starts to get smaller as he starts to age, meaning he will either die from old age or the globe shrinking. {2/4} {WA}After what he thinks must be a long time, his graying hair biggest indication, kids who knew about his legend come to discover him. They then bring him their older sibling, then their parents to talk and after some plot he gets to get some of his powers back and be free. (Posting my questions in the last part) {3/4} {WA} I was wondering if the confinement area being comfy and big, him having this friend would help during confinement? How could he react to aging/idea of dying? Although this isnt very possible in RL, could the fact he had to create this friend ,but mostly the fact he would have no one else if he didnt, get to him? How could he interract with kids/people who found him, i know people tend to have difficulty with interractions after time. Ty for your help! {4/4} {WA EXTRA} Forgot to mention these but 3 kids are 10 to 12, older sibling is 14-15, parents are mid thirties . Again, thank you for your time.

That’s an interesting fantasy scenario (and not even close to the weirdest thing I’ve been asked) thank you for sharing it :)

I think the first thing to grasp is that this character isn’t constantly in solitary confinement here and that’s a smart writing choice. You’ve got the character creating at least one companion and even though that companion isn’t always present that means it’s likely they’re both getting at least 1-2 hours of contact most of the time.

That doesn’t mean this isn’t a stressful situation and it doesn’t mean there are no periods of solitary confinement.

But it gives you leeway to make the effects of this fairly realistic even with the fantasy concept.

Having a big, comfortable space doesn’t really make a difference to how well people deal with isolation. Socialising is a physical need for social species like humans. But the presence of a companion makes the world of difference.

I think the first thing to decide is exactly how long it takes him to make his companion. A lot of people really overestimate the time we can withstand isolation.

For reference the safe period is about a week. After that most people will start to show symptoms and the symptoms are a lot more likely to persist after release. A month is more then enough time for the character to be seriously effected. A year is a really extreme amount of time. And by the time you start getting to multiple years the chances of suicide attempts are… significant.

With the kind of story you’re describing I get the impression you want long term effects but don’t want symptoms etc to take over the story. I think 1-3 months is a perfect time frame for that. The character would develop long term symptoms but it’s still in the realm where it’s survivable. Which means it’s less likely to take over the whole narrative.

You’ve probably seen my masterpost on solitary confinement but here it is again just in case :) I really recommend Shalev’s Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement which is linked as one of the sources on the post.

As with the symptoms of torture more generally you’ve got some scope to choose symptoms because not everyone will experience every single symptom. There’s still some debate about how common individual symptoms are. However broadly depression and anxiety seem to be very common and hallucinations are less common (though they seem to become more likely the longer someone is confined). It’s a good idea to pick a mix of physical and psychological symptoms.

If you choose insomnia as a symptom remember that sleep deprivation also causes problems which you can read about in the masterpost here.

If this is your first time writing something like this then picking out symptoms can be daunting. I try to think of it in terms of what adds to the story. I try to consider the characters, plot and overall themes. Symptoms that give you opportunities to show aspects of the character’s personality, change their relationship with other characters, highlight themes in the story and/or create interesting problems in the plot later on are all good picks.

It’s also important to consider what you’re comfortable writing and what you feel able to write. If you don’t want to write self harm for example that’s a perfectly good reason for ruling out that symptom.

I have a post that outlines my process for picking symptoms that might be helpful for you. :)

I think that brings us round to the more fantasy side of the questions.

I’ll be honest and say that I don’t know how people generally deal with the idea that they’re going to die soon. I suspect that there’d be a lot of individual variation. I think you’ll get the best answers by looking up charities that support people with terminal illnesses.

I found a couple of links at Marie Curie that might serve as a starting point. There’s this page on palliative care. This general page (with lots of links and first hand accounts) of living with a terminal illness. You might find this page about emotionally processing a terminal diagnosis helpful.

I would treat the emotional issues around the created companion the same as a character who is reliant on only one person for their social needs. Which can put a lot of weird strains on a relationship.

I’m not a psychologist and what I say here is based on impressions I gained from interviews with people who are very isolated. If you see a mental health professional or someone who studies isolation more seriously saying something different take their word over mine. Because my reading and knowledge is broad rather then deep.

Relying on one person for all your social needs isn’t healthy. We all have different needs and it’s a lot easier for those needs to be met when we’re interacting with more then one person. Being entirely reliant on one person puts a lot of pressure on that person. It can make it seem like any problems or issues the more isolated person has are the other person’s fault.

Because they’re not magically meeting all of someone’s needs. And I say ‘magically’ because it’s almost impossible for one person to do the ‘job’ of a dozen people.

There can be a lot of guilt, resentment and anger floating around in this sort of dependant relationship. Even when both parties are genuinely trying their best and trying to be healthy.

Any depressive period or severe mood swing on the part of the reliant character might be interpreted as failure by the companion. As if it’s their job to ‘fix’ the mental health problems he has. And that can lead to a lot of internalised guilt and shame.

Conversely being aware of how dependant he is could make the confined character resent the comparative freedom of his companion. They get to leave. They’ll survive the end of this snow-globe. They’ve never had to be alone as he was.

The companion has a lot of power in this scenario because the confined character is entirely reliant on them. They also have the power to leave. Knowing that can breed resentment, whether it’s rational or not. And if it’s irrational and ‘undeserved’ that can lead to a degree of self hatred and guilt.

For both parties anger at each other and the situation seems likely. Not necessarily all the time but I think it’s likely to come up over and over again.

The companion has their own desires and wants. But the confined character is entirely dependant on them and may well expect them to drop everything to help him/meet his socialisation needs. And the thing is that’s unfair on both of them, because the situation is unfair.

That’s not a critique of the story. It’s unfair for the confined character to expect the companion to be able to meet all his needs and to drop everything to help him. But it’s also not unreasonable for the confined character to grasp at his only option for fulfilling a fundamental need.

I think that if you wanted to treat this ‘realistically’ then it would lead to a pretty unhealthy co-dependant relationship however much both characters tried to avoid that.

But you do have the ability to reduce or avoid that in your story. Because you choose the rules for how this companion feels, acts and behaves.

The confined character may be human-like but in a lot of ways the companion does not have to be. A realistic human-like person would not be able to support all the social needs of another person. But there’s no reason the companion has to be that human.

If you do choose to deviate from a more human-like character I think my advice would be to think through any changes you make logically. And be consistent. If for instance the character can’t feel angry or resentful towards their creator think through what that might mean.

Which leaves the final question about interacting with others and how difficult that can be after periods of isolation.

The exact way this effects interactions depends chiefly on the symptoms you pick out and the character’s personality.

Generally mentally ill people do not want to be assholes or upset other people. But we do tend to have greater difficulties interacting with people and our social interactions can go badly in ways that healthy people don’t tend to experience.

For instance say we have a character who has a severe anxiety disorder and this disorder is often set off by noises they don’t expect. That’s a fairly common symptom and a fairly common trigger for it.

That means that kids running around, shouting or just talking loudly about something that excites them, could set off an anxiety attack.

Some people would get angry in that situation. Because they’re in pain and, even though they did not mean to, those kids ‘caused’ that pain.

Some people would abruptly remove themselves from the situation. Which could leave the kids wondering why/how they upset their new friend so much.

Some people would stick around and not blame the kids. But they might have visible signs of their anxiety attack that could be very frightening for a child who doesn’t understand what’s going on. If an adult they care about suddenly starts shaking and breathing hard and needs to sit down and looks pale- Well worry is natural. And it’s difficult to explain triggers/mental health problems while you’re in the middle of an anxiety attack.

So there’s a set of issues that are symptom driven and around the extra difficulties interacting while mentally ill. There’s also a set of issues around… basically forgetting how to socialise.

This doesn’t necessarily mean being age in-appropriate.

I think the best way to think about it is a combination of finding it harder to interpret other people’s emotional cues and being less aware of the cues they’re sending out themselves. It might take longer for the character to realise they’ve upset someone or they might misidentify the other person’s emotional response.

They might also think less before they speak. Which can mean things like- I guess not moderating what they say to account for other people’s feelings? They might come across as blunt or thoughtless or scatter brained as they jump from one topic to another. They might also have less of a grasp of when to give the other person space and let them speak.

The biggest thing I see survivors of solitary report is that normal social interaction makes them much more anxious/nervous then it did before they were confined. Socialising has a bigger ‘cost’ then before, in terms of energy and emotional impact.

And this often means they withdraw from it more quickly. They need to take breaks. Or they start getting more stressed and frustrated.

I think the main thing to navigate here would be how to explain these conditions and needs to children in a way that doesn’t seem like it’s blaming the kids. Which is certainly possible, but can take some time and care to get right.

I think I’ll leave it there and if you’ve got any further questions drop them in when the ask box reopens. I hope that helps :)

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Disclaimer

#writing advice #tw torture #tw suicide #tw self harm #tw cancer #fantasy ask #solitary confinement #effects of solitary confinement #isolation #writing survivors #torture survivors and relationships #unhealthy relationships #terminal illness #writing symptoms

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ayyyez · 4 years

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Hi! I'm so into FiOE, I love it so much! I was wondering if maybe you couls write about Asana being confronted by both Madara and Tobirama, to chose. I know it seems to illogical for both characters but hey they're so in love with her their lost their brains haha. Love can do that to a person. Thank you so much for open request again!

a/n: bless you for sending me a request with Asana ahhhh I love her so much and I’m glad other people seem to as well! Also loved doing this request! So thank you <3 warnings: none! Links: Fire in Our Eyes (Tobirama/Asana[OC] fic) + The Fire Within (Madara/Asana[OC] Oneshot)

Real talk, if these two came to her, at their wits end and told her to choose (in the early days of courtship) she would laugh. And then she would recollect herself and say ‘Alright I can see the two of you are very serious about this.’ She pauses and it tortures them. ‘I choose neither.’ Then she would go back to whatever it was she was doing.

That’s only if like she isn’t invested enough with them though. Like they haven’t kissed, fked, had some deep deep conversations, missing that and she is just like ‘You know what I don’t have time for this.’ lmao.

But let’s say she is invested. Not just invested but there’s such deep emotional and physical connection between her and both of them she is in a position where she has to pick.

She will avoid them overtime. Hopes the situation sorts itself out. She is way too busy running a hospital she can’t deal with her personal life. They enjoy arguing maybe they can work it out.

But an overnighter working and lack of sleep later she realises she cares about both of them and that is not fair. Fck. Now she has to make the decision. She always has to make the decision. Can life give her break for five minutes please?

Asana tries to think about it logically. She will pick apart each scenario without mercy. She even tries to think how the village would benefit and who is most suited to be her partner and make the village better.

Its a fools errand though. She knows she can’t be logical. (Would honestly choose both if she could but she knows they would never accept that. So she makes her choice.

FIOE Universe and she chooses Tobirama

Asana is most stubborn in this scenario. There is something about bowing to Tobirama’s wishes when, instead of telling her how he feels, he tells her to choose. What kind of confession is that? He got off the hook too easily.

She trusts Tobirama with a lot of things but she cannot trust him with her heart until he proves worthy. Deep down she knows how he feels but she needs him to say. For once in his life he needs to do things not his way.

So being Asana, she goes and confronts him at his home. He has a feeling he knows why she is there but doesn’t know her decision. So, he lets her in and waits for her to talk.

She stares at him in silence for a while - for good measure. Then she gets straight to the point. ‘You want me to choose—to choose you. Why?’ This throws him through a loop.

Tobirama is a little on edge but the only thing he reveals is a little bit of shock. She was always so blunt. Refreshing but taxing on his heart.

‘I would have thought that obvious.’ That’s his answer and he hopes it’s good enough. He isn’t going to get down on his knees and recite poetry. He isn’t going to list the ways he loves her. He has feelings for her and it is as simple and obvious as that.

But Asana doesn’t take that. She can’t. How can he expect her too when all he as given her is circumstance and vague inclinations. For all she knew he could just be doing this so Madara didn’t get her. She knew that wasn’t the case but his words have yet to clear that theory.

‘Pretend I’m simple minded then.’ Asana took a step toward him. ‘Pretend like I can’t read you.’ She took another step. ‘Pretend that you actually want to fight for me.’ She is in front of him, looking at him with such dare and intensity he almost falls forward.

‘And what exactly would that accomplish?’ He asked. He met her stare head on but he knew his eyes revealed everything. He knew it couldn’t hide from her but he chose to try anyway.

‘Everything you have ever wanted.’ Asana replied, softly. ‘That’s what you’ll accomplish—that’s what you’ll gain.’

‘You claim to know what I want?’ His resolve was breaking.

‘No, you did.’ Asana smiled. ‘”I would have thought that obvious.”’

His gaze snapped away. ‘Never before have I been so compromised.’ He let out a heavy sigh and turned back to her. ‘When I’m with you I think things, I feel things I would never before...’ he clenched his jaw and looked back at her. ‘You’ve ruined me, Asana.’

Asana’s lips parted, letting out the faintest gasp. Her eyes flickered down for a second, betraying her own vulnerability. Then they met his again with such assurance, in her self, this moment that it almost frightened Tobirama.

‘I’ve ruined you.’ She sighed. ‘As far as confessions go that has got to be the worst I’ve ever heard.’ She can see the uncertainty in his gaze. ‘But you were right about one thing, Tobirama.’ She paused. ‘I can read you and I know what those words mean—to you anyway.’

Asana reached up and brought a hand to his cheek, fingertips lightly caressing his face. ‘They mean that you chose me, as I do you.’ And before he even has the chance to process those words she kisses him.

The truth was they didn’t really choose each other, their hearts did and against their better judgement.

Asana chooses Madara

Asana did what she does best. She broke into Madara’s home and sat on the table, waiting for his return. And she didn’t have to wait long because before she knew it he was walking through the door.

Madara stopped in the centre of the room with a smirk. ‘No sake today?’ He said, trying to hold her eye. ‘Am I to take that this as bad news then?’

With a sultry smile, Asana pushed herself off the table and walked towards him. ‘Are you expecting bad news?’

‘Well, you do have a choice to make.’ His smile faded. ‘Or do you wish to torture us forever?’

Asana took a long moment to look him up and down. When her eyes met his again, she bore a serious expression. ‘And who was the one who gave me such an ultimatum?’ She paused. ‘You want me to choose you. Why?’

The hint of a smile crossed Madara’s lips. He knew what her visit meant but he wasn’t assured enough to take it as succession on his part. He also didn’t want to scare her away. If there was one thing he knew about Asana, it was that she wasn’t one to be chased by just any suitor.

‘I was party to the ultimatum,’ he paused, his gaze finding her lips. ‘Because I want you.’ His gaze snapped back to hers. There is a hint of surprise on her face followed by a small smile.

‘We all want things, Madara.’ She frowned a little. ‘But we don’t always get what we want. Not by simply wanting it anyway.’ The frown disappeared with the thought. ‘Perhaps the better question is, why do you want me? And why there is a reluctance in your eyes when I ask such a question.’

‘I’m sure you want similar things for similar reasons.’ Madara’s tone grows serious. ‘But one can never be sure of such things. So you will forgive my initial reluctance.’ He stepped closer.

‘Are we doomed to go in sentenced circles until one of us gets to the point, finally?’ Asana whispered, lifting her chin a little to get a better angle at his gaze.

‘Very well then I concede.’ Madara gave a playful huff. ‘I will always concede against you and you know it.’ He leant forward. ‘Because I am yours, whether you will have me or not.’

Asana observed his expression, noted the undeniable honesty that came from the rawness of the moment. She let go a shaky breath. ‘Well then, I guess that answers both our questions.’ And then he kisses her again and again, until he is certain that it isn’t an illusion.

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sambergscott · 4 years

Text

i'd wait forever and a day for you

summary: post-trying // jake is on an undercover mission and amy thinks she’s pregnant.

(you should read this just for the last line tbh)

Her period is late.

At first, she attributes it to stress. Jake is on a major undercover operation and while she is an incredibly proud, supportive wife, she knows how dangerous the situation is. He’s a great cop -- one of New York’s finest, in both senses of the word (...he’s hot) -- and he was so excited about getting this assignment. And she’s excited for him -- really, she is. But with updates filtering through to Captain Holt at a snail’s pace, it’s impossible not to worry about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe. Her cycle was shot to hell when he was in Witness Protection in Florida and it is entirely possible that history is repeating itself.

Four days pass, Jake is still undercover and her period still has not arrived. She tries to blame Hitchcock’s God-awful Zika cologne disrupting her cycle again until she remembers that both Hitchcock and Scully have been off work all week with food poisoning. She even Googles why is my period late?, quickly closing the tab and deleting her browser history when the first result that pops up is pregnancy.

There’s no way she’s pregnant. She refuses to even consider it for a second.

Despite her absolute certainty that her uterus is as empty as it’s always been, when Rosa invites her for drinks with her new boyfriend, Amy opts for a non-alcoholic beer.

“I’m driving,” she explains at Rosa’s raised eyebrows and swiftly changes the conversation. She finds out that Rosa’s boyfriend is a mechanic and they hit it off when she took her motorbike in for repair. She talks about Jake, about how he’s her favourite person in the entire world and how much she misses him (A Lot). He asks her what it’s like dating a cop and how to deal with the person you love putting themselves in danger every single day, which makes Rosa blush. Amy has never seen her blush before.

“It’s difficult,” she says truthfully. She hates seeing her husband hurting and being thrown in prison for crimes he didn’t commit and having guns pointed at his head. It’s why she instated the short-lived ‘no dating cops’ rule, before Jake kissed her and she decided screw it. “But it’s worth it. When you really love them, it’s worth the pain. Every second.”

“That’s what I thought,” he responds, looking at Rosa the way Jake looks at Amy.

She finishes her drink (which is so not as good as its alcoholic counterpart) and gathers her coat and purse. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. See you Monday,” she directs at Rosa and “it was nice to meet you” at her boyfriend, who she has a feeling might be sticking around for a while.

She opens up her Messages app and types out a full paragraph to Jake about how she met Rosa’s boyfriend before him and how he’s really nice and makes her blush! Rosa Disz!!! Blushing!!! She adds a gif of Jonathan Van Ness saying “can you believe?” and is about to click send when she realises his phone is on his nightstand where he left it before his mission and puts her phone back in her pocket in dismay.

Once home, she gets changed into one of his NYPD t-shirts and climbs straight into bed, crying herself to sleep.

She wakes up bright and early the next morning, a feat that is made significantly easier when there is no super cute husband to snuggle with. She showers, pulls on leggings and one of his plaid shirts and gets started on her Sunday Chores. Dancing around the apartment and pretending the mop is a microphone stand is a lot less fun on her own and she overcompensates, making herself dizzy and throwing up in the toilet she just cleaned.

Without thinking, she finds herself at the bodega on the corner, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. She grabs three of the safest looking ones and bites her lip when the guy congratulates her as she pays. She’s wasted hundreds of dollars on pregnancy tests thus far and she knows she’s definitely wasting money on these ones too. She doesn’t need congratulating for making poor financial decisions and being bad at making babies, but she thanks him anyway.

Back at the apartment, she dumps the paper bag on the kitchen counter to deal with later. She makes a cup of tea, calls her mom and fills in The Times crossword. The paper bag screams out to her the entire time.

Reluctantly, she removes the boxes from the bag, fully intending to put them away in the back of the bathroom cabinet, out of sight.

A niggling voice tells her to just open one and find out.

She has the box open and the test in her hand when her phone buzzes with a text from Holt informing her that Jake is safe and the mission is going well.

She drops the test like it burnt her skin.

Jake. She can’t do this without him. If she is pregnant, she’d never forgive herself for finding out without him, for stripping him of that moment they’d been dreaming of forever.

She’s waited this long, she can wait a few more days. And she’s probably not pregnant anyway.

She ends up waiting two more weeks.

It’s torture.

She’s throwing up almost daily, crying in the break room for no apparent reason and her damn period has still not come. All symptoms which could be explained away by a lack of Jake Peralta and stress (due to missing the aforementioned Jake Peralta).

Rosa corners her in the ladies bathroom and asks if she wants her to run out for more pregnancy tests.

“I already have some at home.”

“And?” She prompts. “Did you take them? Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” She tries to play it off as no big deal, but Rosa knows her pretty well these days.

“You’ve been trying for nearly a year, there’s a chance you are finally pregnant and you haven’t taken a test?”

“I can’t -- I want to -- Jake --.”

“Oh,” it dawns on her.

“Yeah,” Amy sighs. “I’ve been staring at the tests every night but I just can’t. Not without him. He’d be devastated.”

“He would not be devastated if you were pregnant, Amy Santiago.”

“You know what I mean. He’d want to be have been there. I want him to be there.”

“I guess he needs to hurry the hell up and catch the bad guys then.”

He must have heard her because, hours later, the elevator door opens and there he is, exhausted and still in his weird undercover clothes, with the biggest smile on his face.

She practically throws herself at him and, yeah, maybe she kisses him in a not-very-work-appropriate way and maybe some of the perps in the holding cell wolf whistle and maybe Charles is crying, but he is home and she can finally take those pregnancy tests.

Holt allows her to clock out early (she makes a mental note to buy him a glass of Charbonnay the next time they go to Shaw’s) and Jake excitedly tells her all about the case, barely taking a second to breathe.

“Sounds fun, babe,” she says when he gets to the part of the story when he handcuffed the bad guys and then made out with this super hot chick in front of all his co-workers.

“It was awesome,” he confirms. “What about you? What have you been up to? I missed you so much.”

“Aw,” she smiles, rubbing her hand over his thigh as he drives, “I missed you so much, too. As for what I’ve been up to, I’ve mostly just been kind of sick.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I... um... actually think I might be pregnant.”

He swerves suddenly, nearly crashing the car. Ignoring the cars around them honking, he focuses on his wife. “Pregnant?”

“My period is nearly three weeks late, I’ve been throwing up and I’ve been extra emotional,” she debriefs him.

“Right. OK.” He takes a deep breath. “Have you taken a test?”

“I bought three but I couldn’t take them without you. It’s kind of been killing me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he laughs, pulling over in front of their apartment. Neither of them move. “We should probably take them now.”

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“You nervous?”

“Yeah,” she says again. She’s lost count of how many negative tests they’ve seen, how many times she’s felt that familiar crushing disappointment. The thought of going through it all over again...

“I understand. We can wait, if you want. Or we could rip the band-aid off, let the scab bleed all over the place. I’ll hold your hand.”

There’s this reassuring look in his eyes that she’s seen a million times over from back when they were newly-assigned partners and he was reassuring her they would solve a tough case to that time on the roof of 397 Barton Street when he said he always knew she was going to be his boss to his speech at Hitchcock’s (second) divorce party when he told her that they are a family and that they can take whatever ‘next step’ she wants because as long as they’re together, he’s happy.

Because it’s him, she nods. “Let’s do this.”

The wait for the timer to go off seems longer than ever. She squeezes his hand so tight she thinks she might cut off the circulation, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps talking about how they’ll be fine, no matter what the result.

The timer eventually goes off and she picks up the test and starts crying immediately.

Jake hugs her tight and she can feel him crying too and this is so crazy and insane and good.

“We’re having a baby,” he says in awe and it’s the best thing Amy’s ever heard.

“We’re having a baby!” She repeats, half-laughing, half-crying.

She yelps as he lifts her up and spins her around their tiny bathroom before kissing her tenderly.

“I can’t believe this,” he exclaims when he pulls away, rubbing his hand over his face, “can you?”

“Nope.” She grins, kissing him again.

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy #hope this gives you all the feels it gave me as i was writing it

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imdefyingmavity · 3 years

Text

Two Pairs of Glasses and a Bottle of Red

Chidi goes to say thank you to Michael for being there for Eleanor.

“Hey…Did I go back in time?”

It probably seems that way, Michael smirks, considering the multiple boxes containing Hawaiian pizza that have been stacked up around his new office.

“Welcoming present from Shawn and Vicky, I reckon.” He says to Chidi, waving a few of them away to allow him entry, the Professor having to slide around them in order to reach the chair in front of Michael’s desk.

His request for a perfect replica of his previous office had otherwise been met to the last detail. It had simply come with the extra bonus of seventy boxes of pizza only a mad man would eat.

He can’t be too annoyed. As demonic hazing attempts go, this one seems rather light-hearted. Almost nostalgic. Perhaps he really was getting the chance to repair some burned bridges with his former colleagues. It wasn’t something that ever appealed to him before but is oddly satisfying now.

“How does it feel to be back?” asks his friend.

Michael shrugs, “Weird. Kinda miss my second neighbourhood already. I know it wasn’t around as long as my first one but it felt like part of the same one, y’know? It’s good to know it’s still there this time. I wish you had all agreed stay there rather than coming here with me.”

Even with Shawn’s guarantee of the humans protection that binds the rest of the demon, Michael can’t help but be weary. He knows there’s a lot of employees unhappy with the shake-up, more than half who are perfectly happy torturing humans as their job, whether they deserve it or not. They would be more than ready to take their work frustrations out on the four people who are the reason for this shake up, the first one in fifty thousand years. Even Janet stands the risk of being marbleized again if she lets her guard down, it wouldn’t be the first time.

He wishes they had agreed to stay tucked safe back at the Good Place 2.0. But the little cockroaches had been stubborn as ever.

“Are you kidding? As if we’d let you have all the fun sorting out dimension of frustrated demons on our own.” Chidi smiles.

“I never thought I’d see you describe having to deal with a bunch of demons as fun.”

Another way of saying that, of all the infinite wonders of the Universe he’s experienced, he never thought he’d get to see Chidi be cool.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still wanna scream like a little girl when one of the lava monsters passes me. But then it says hi and I remember it’s just Todd.”

Good to know confident Chidi can still be scared when Michael feels an old desire. He’ll remember that.

Even he feels the need to relive old habits at times. In a safe, harmless, controlled way of course.

“Did you need me to help with anything, pal?” He asks, “I thought you and Eleanor would be getting settled into your new apartment? They cleaned out the rat-snakes, right?”

Not the best living quarters but he tried to find the comfiest temporary homes for all of them, not able to design and build them their own places as before in this area where he has no control as an Architect. He at least managed to get Tahani a penthouse suite, even if it is at the top of a volcano.

“You didn’t tell us those were the previous occupants, they had to come back to collect some stuff they left. But it’s all good, I left Eleanor to ‘wear in the new couch and test drive the TV’ as she put it.”

Michael smiles to himself. After the year she’s had, she more than deserves to put her feet up. He doesn’t tell Chidi how little she slept while he went away. Not that she needed it, or that Michael didn’t try to encourage it, but he reckons she could now sleep for a week if she wanted.

“Actually…Eleanor is kinda why I’m here.” Chidi admits, Michael noticing the serious change in his tone.

“Oh. Did you wanna sit down?” He gestures to the chair, waving his hand again to clear it of more of the boxes.

Chidi shakes his head, hands in his pockets.

“No thanks, I’m gonna need to stand.”

“Why’s that?” Michael frowns.

“Because there’s a chance I might hug you and this will make it less awkward.��

Michael goes still, not sure how to respond to that. There’s always been an unspoken physical distance between him and the Professor, more so than with any of the other humans. He’d had the most hugs with Eleanor, followed by Jason’s which always left him smelling jalapenos, and a few recent ones with Tahani (which, he couldn’t deny, were simply amazing, how on Earth could he parents not adore her?!). The most contact he’d had with Chidi was a fist bump on the few times they saw eye-to-eye.

Not that Michael can blame the guy for wanting to keep a safe distance, given how he used to be the main target of Michael’s more jerky conduct in the past. He’s probably only now stopped expecting him to splatter him with fake blood or a shower of needles.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

“…Thank me? For what exactly?” The three hundred years of torture that he’d recently been accessed to?

“For…everything, man.” Chidi says, face lighting up with gratitude; “For taking my classes seriously…eventually. For saving us, even when it cost you literally everything you had been working for until then…Sacrificing yourself for us, bringing us back from the dead, saving us, donating all that money to make sure we were okay and then helping to save, not only us, but humanity itself, I mean…You really weren’t expecting a few thank yous thrown your way?”

Michael looks away, feeling the heat rise beneath the cheeks of his skin suit. He didn’t do any of it expecting a thank you and, up until now, he hadn’t really received any. A few unspoken, grateful smiles from the others, a pleasant stroke of his arm, but never the two words said aloud.

“I’d do it all over again.” He says, earnestly, still not believing it was enough to undo the centuries of psychological harm he’d inflicted on them to begin with.

“I believe you. I mean, I’ll be honest, when you first started taking my classes, there was a point I thought you were beyond help but…I can tell you with the utmost sincerity…I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of one of my students.”

Oh, fork, the pesky nerd is going to bring him to tears.

Michael sniffs; “Yeah, well…I had an amazing teacher. You only have yourself to thank. And Eleanor, obviously…She’s the one who got me to take all your ethical nonsense seriously.”

If not for her, he’d still be sat at his desk in his old office with his feet up, refusing to budge, refusing to be the bigger not-man and apologize and admit he needs help. Shawn might jokingly call him a demon daddy but it was the two of them together who got him to grow up.

Chidi gives a wistful smile; “Yeah…Eleanor is the answer. That’s clearer to me than ever.”

Damn straight.

“Thank you for looking after her for me this year.”

Those words make something buckle deep within Michael. His thumb starts to itch at his side.

“You should know her well enough by now to know she usually has to be the one looking after me.” He tries to laugh it off but there’s an uncomfortable stinging in his chest.

What is wrong with him?

“We both know she’s not invulnerable as she likes to pretend. Leaving her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do…but I had no choice.”

Yes, you did, Michael stops himself from saying, the ethical voice in his chastising his own.

“I know.” Is what he says instead.

He respects the guy for not letting himself be a potential risk to the experiment and everyone’s eternal safety. He’s been there himself.

“I remember seeing you two together, when I was ‘away’ all that time.” He says, again surprising Michael with the brief use of air quotes – who is this guy? “You looked like you had fun together, ruling that fake Heaven. You were always smiling together. Right up until the end, I mean, that evil laugh the two of you did....I know she enjoyed that, even if it was terrifying for me at the time. I’m glad to know she was okay…And I think a lot of that is down to you.”

He rubs the back of his neck, trying not to remember the feel of her hips in his hands when he’d grabbed her waist during their Hail Mary; “Or maybe Eleanor is just that strong-willed…”

“That too but…C’mon, man, I know you care about her as much as I do.”

More than the dweeb could ever know, Michael thinks to himself. He never intended to play favorites and he appreciates all of them in their own special way; Tahani’s grace, Jason’s optimism, Chidi’s kindness as much as his intellect…But Eleanor…Eleanor was as much like himself as he could ever hope to meet and yet, somehow, a thousand times better. Braver, wiser, sharper…Everything he could only dream of being.

“I’m just relieved to know that, if I have to go away again, she’ll always have you there.” Chidi says, softly.

That buckling sensation inside Michael finally snaps.

He clenches his jaw.

“No.”

Chidi blinks; “Sorry?”

“I said no.” The voice of his long-buried demon husk rears its head; “You’re not to go away again, do you hear? You’re not allowed to…leave her again.”

“I…”

The Professor inches back a bit as Michael makes a move forward, the desk his only protection from the demon grabbing him by his sweater-vest.

“You think she was all smiles and laughter during the past year?” He growls, “Let me tell you something, buddy, those were just glimpses of your girlfriend you saw there as you passed us on the street or at all those events! You didn’t have to stay up with her all those nights she cried over how much she missed you or how worried she was that having to put you with Simone would change your feelings for her, all because you were too much of a dummy to help that woman out without believing she was your soul mate!”

He sees the other man recoil at that, wincing with shame. Michael suffers the recoil, feeling the twist in his gut, but now that the bottle cap on his emotions has been popped, he has a years worth of anger and resentment to spill.

“Did my little reload of all your memories happen to miss out that time you saw her break down in tears because you told her you felt like you were being punished?! Because I’d convinced her you needed to be tortured so you would stop flitting around like you were on vacation and actually lend a hand to help that deckwad Brent, but she went too far, because she was rightly pissed at you for leaving and ended up hating herself for it! And yeah, I admit, I was pissed at you too for breaking her heart when I’d trusted you, of all people, to take care of it!”

He can see Chidi’s shoulders hunched now, a grimace appearing on his face as a stomach-ache brews within him. Good. He’s not immune to those. They’re just no longer rendering him immobile with pain.

“The last thing I wanted to do was hurt…”

“Then you should’ve thought about that before you left! You should have gotten over your stupid anxiety about Simone before considering leaving her! What on Earth is wrong with you, man?! How could you be so lucky to fall in love with Eleanor Shellstrop and be blessed to have her love you back, and then agree to forget her?! After everything she’s been through, how could you do that to her?! How could you think it was okay to leave her with me as a piss poor substitute and then have the gaul to waltz back in here after a year and say ‘thanks for looking after her’?! You don’t deserve her!”

He regrets those last four words before they’ve passed his lips.

By the time the red mist has parted from his eyes, he sees the tears in Chidi’s eyes as they lock across the desk. Michael’s throat goes dry. He takes a step back back, only noticing how wet his own eyes are when he finally blinks. Oh shit. How could he say that? As if thinking it had been bad…Had been wrong enough, but to finally…

“Chidi. I am…Oh, I am so, so sorry…” He breathes.

The other man doesn’t respond. He doesn’t deny the accusations, which somehow makes it worse.

The most agonising of silences hangs between them before they seem to move at the exact same moment. The both of them removing their glasses at the same time to give them a wipe, Michael using his handkerchief while Chidi uses his sleeve.

“Damn, these things steam up quick, huh…” Chidi says, awkwardly, his voice broken.

Michael gives a weak smile; “I don’t even need mine, they’re just for aesthetic…Speaking of which, if you ever want me to fix that astigmatism, just say, you shouldn’t really have it dead.”

“No, no, it’s fine…Like you said, it’s part of the look.”

Michael lets out a sigh, partly relieved to get those words out, awful as they are. He’s eternally grateful that the other man didn’t storm out of the room and slam the door. He wouldn’t have blamed him. It hurt enough that he no longer had Eleanor at his side, his partner in crime and saving the Universe, her constant shining spirit and quick-wit lighting up the room. It hurt knowing that her time and companionship had been prioritised to someone more worthy of her. He’d tried so hard to ignore the ache of her missing presence, when it had only been a couple of days since the experiment ended. He should have remembered that burying his sadness only made it worse in the long run. One of her first lessons and he’d forgot.

He was the one who didn’t deserve her. How dare he ever say that Chidi was the one to blame in all of this, after everything the man had given up, had missed out on?

With another wave of his hand, Michael summons a bottle of merlot, one of Chidi’s favorite vintages, along with a couple of glasses. His friend sniffs again, giving a grateful smile. They’re both in need of a drink.

They each take a glass and a seat at either edge of the desk, their backs to each other.

Michael takes a sip and then looks down at the glass in his lap.

“What’s it like?” He dares to ask, after a while, “….Being with her?”

There’s a pause behind him.

“…You’re asking me what love feels like?”

He shakes his head; “I know what being in love feels like.” That might say more than enough, “…I’m asking how it feels to have her love you back.”

Michael has been content on the scraps of affection he gets, like a dog sitting at his master’s table at dinner, those smiles and jokes and fleeting hugs more than enough to keep him grateful and satisfied with the place he’s honoured to take in Eleanor’s heart. But he’s not entirely reformed, there’s still a tiny wicked side that dares to be greedy, that dares to…imagine, what it would be like to be truly hers. Surely, just once, he can be allowed to live vicariously.

Once again, he’s amazed that Chidi doesn’t chew him out, smash him over the head with the wine bottle and leave. Instead he hears the Professor take another sip.

“How do I describe it? I mean…I’ve had girlfriends before, as you know, but I never…I was in never truly in love before her.” He explains, heavily; “When I’m with her, when she’s with me…It’s like all those difficult questions and puzzles of the Universe suddenly fit. Or what remains unsolved fades into the background and…I stop worrying about it all. Because all I need to know, when she’s there…is that she’s there. She looks at me and, wherever we are in these insane dimensions we keep falling through, from Heaven to Hell, to that weird pancake nightmare…So long as she’s with me…I belong. I’m home.”

Michael smiles, moving his hand up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. He always assumed it would feel something like that, based on the fleeting sense of peace he found in those moments with Eleanor. He’d never felt at home in Hell, with his fellow demons. He already knew he would never be accepted or belong with those dorky angels on the other side. The closest he had ever come to feeling at home was on Earth and that was also off the table. He’d spent his whole existence as an ugly duckling searching for swans that were probably long extinct.

But he knew what being part of a home…a family, felt like, a little. Especially during the past year, when they were a team, there were times he could almost convince himself that where he was always meant to be was at her side. Her equal. Two sides of the same coin. But every time that hope of feeling complete at last would appear, it would be cruelly snatched away, every time that grief of missing her true love appeared on her face. And he would be lost again.

“You’re a lucky man, Chidi.” He tells his friend, truly.

He hears him shuffle to look around behind him; “You know she loves you too? Right?”

He shrugs; “Yeah, sure…”

“C’mon, Michael. I’ve seen the two of you together, since you joined up with us.” Chidi tries, reaching to touch his elbow; “You’re like…a part of her. She needs you as much as me.”

He wishes there was truth to that.

“Tell me something, man,” He asks, looking down at the fingers on his arm; “How many tears did Eleanor shed over me after I gave her my pin and sent her through the portal after you guys?”

Chidi slowly brings his hand back to his lap.

“I…Uhm…” he frowns; “Well, we didn’t really have time for that…She wasn’t exactly skipping about it-.”

“Did she mention me once again before me and Janet turned up?”

The other man doesn’t respond.

“Thought not.” Michael refills his glass; “And rightly so, you guys had way more important things at hand. But, let’s be honest, if it had been you who was left behind, she would have screamed at that Judge to get you to come join her, or fought her way back through Hell to get to you…It’s always been you, Chidi, it always will. In every reboot, lovers or not, you were the missing piece she sought out. I’m grateful to be her friend but let’s not pretend we’re on equal footing. It’s not fair on either of us.”

“I think you doing yourself a disservice-.”

“Has she told you about Bad Janet yet?” Michael cuts in again; “That was a fun night. I mean it sucked, it was one of the worst of the year, but it was…interesting, if nothing else. We had no idea what was sabotaging the experiment and, to cut a long story short, the suspicion fell on me being the spanner in the works. The only thing I could do to restore Eleanor’s trust in me was offer to blow myself up.”

“WHAT?!” Chidi exclaims, nearly spilling his wine.

“Oh, you wait till I get to the part where Jason figures it out and saves the day!”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.”

They manage to share another brief laugh. It’s a lot easier to find it funny now, all these months on, despite it being the night Michael’s heart was shattered and, despite everything good that came after, created a crack that was still waiting to be repaired. Possibly never.

“Point is…She barely said a word against me taking myself out. But you? I mean, you had to convince her just to forget her for a year and look what it did to her.” Michael says, “I could vanish from her life tomorrow and, sure, she’d be bummed…but if it was you? Even in death, she wouldn’t survive that. That’s how much you mean to her. Don’t ever take it for granted.”

Michael knows he won’t. He just needed to give him that kick in the ash to be certain he knew how serious this was. For both of them.

“I’m sorry.” The professor whispers.

“What for?” Michael asks, “You did the one thing I never could. You made the woman we both love happy. I’m just glad I get to share in that, even if I’m not the cause.”

He hears Chidi put down his glass on the desk and stand up. Michael takes it as his cue to get on his feet as well, turning to face the other man.

“I’d quite like to give you that hug now, if that’s all right.” He says.

Michael rolls his eyes, as if inconvenienced.

“I suppose, if you must.”

Chidi takes the first step to bridge the gap between them, holding his arms out as Michael mirrors his movements and they share their first embrace. He hopes it’s one of many to come.

He can’t help but be surprised, as ever, by the tightness of the other man’s hold. It was always easy to forget how strong he was underneath that dorky outfit, those jacked arms and pecks strangely reassuring to the touch. He can understand the appeal for Eleanor. It seemed more forgivable now for her to constantly tease him of his own physical shortcoming compared to the man she loved.

“I hope you know how much you mean to all of us. Not just Eleanor.” The Professor tells him, as sternly as he used to lecture him in the past.

He gives the guy’s shoulders a pat.

“I do, buddy.”

Chidi is the first to move back, his hands still firm on Michael’s arms as he regards him, intently.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” He asks, “You never told her?”

Michael shakes his head, heavy with regret he can’t begin to describe.

“I was going to. When Janet saved me from Shawn, as we were going through the portal, I told myself…” He takes a breath, “I told myself that I’d been given a second chance and that, next time I saw her, I’d tell her. I’d tell her how I felt and I’d ask if she felt the same and…Take it from there.”

“What happened to that plan?”

Michael can’t help but laugh. It’s amazing what an idiot the genius can be at times.

“You kissed her first, dummy.”

And when he saw the smile on her face...how he could ever dare to come between anything that made her that happy again?

The door opens and Eleanor strides in, a bounce in her step that hasn’t been there for almost thirteen months.

Even with the office in a new location, she’s able to treat it as if it’s Michael’s usual home, free for her to walk in and own when she pleases. The demon behind the desk who quickly steps back doesn’t complain, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, don’t you two look all cosy!” She says, brightly; “You guys having a pizza party without me?”

Her arms immediately wrap around Chidi’s neck and he greets her with a kiss on the lips.

“Ham and pineapple, babe,” He doesn’t tell her she missed out on the wine, that can be their little secret; “But if you fancy pizza for dinner, Todd recommended a place on the corner of our street?”

“Oh yeah, they do a great meat feast…I mean, some of the salami used to be sliced humans but I’m pretty sure Shawn is recalling all of those.” Michael says, off-hand.

Eleanor barely seems to hear his commentary.

Her eyes are focused purely on the man she’s been pining for all these months, hands hooked behind his neck, humming as she presses her nose against his. Michael looks away, knowing he’s no more than a blurry shape in the corner of her eye now.

“Whatever, I’m starving…You’ve kept me waiting long enough, dude, time to fill me up.” She says to Chidi, her voice low but not quite subtle; “And we can food too, I guess.”

“Eleanor!” Her boyfriend blushes on behalf of the third wheel having to listen in.

“Oh, it’s just Michael, he knows what filth to expect from me, right bud?” She says aloud without looking at him again, merely expecting him to be there.

Would it even matter how he responded?

Would she hear him if he confessed, out loud, how he wished it was his chest that she was leaning against, his shoulders she was hanging from, her lips against his? Would she react with anything other than laughter if he told her about what he was planning to do at the Judge’s chambers all those years ago?

“Our love is stronger than anything you can throw at us.”

Even his own, he humbly accepts.

“Michael, do you wanna join us for dinner?” Chidi asks.

Before the demon can respond, Eleanor does it for him.

“Oh I’m sure Michael wants a break after having to put up with me for a year, right dude?” Eleanor gives him her first direct look since she entered, followed by a wink.

Of course. He wasn’t going to intrude anyway, but he’s nothing if not a good wingmon.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had more than enough pizza for one day….You guys should catch up. You’ve only got eternity together.” He smiles.

Eleanor mouths a ‘thank you’ before leaning back up to kiss Chidi’s bottom lip again.

Anytime… He sighs and looks away, Anytime, I’m yours.

Every kiss he watches them share is both parts pleasure and pain. Obviously, he’ll take the truth with him to retirement or whatever his end will be. No way would he risk tarnishing what they have. He’s happy to remain in the shadows, grateful to be allowed to watch the light shine nearby, even if it’s forever beyond his touch, beyond the cruel hope of getting to feel that warmth on the skin of a body that isn’t truly his.

“Well…if you horny mammals don’t mind, some of us have some work to do.” He puts on the smug superior being mask again, “And you’re no longer my boss, Shellstrop, so I’m gonna take this opportunity to tell you to get out.”

“What d’you say to me?” She throws him a glare.

Fuck. Nope. Damn it, she’s still in charge.

“I mean…Have a good time at dinner.”

She giggles, knowing full well the power she wields over the two men in the room.

“That’s better.” She looks back up at Chidi, eyes shining with a joy they’ve not possessed in far too longer; “Let’s go, my new confident, sexy nerd.”

“Do you still have to call me a nerd?”

“Take the damn compliments.” She tugs on his hand, pulling him out of the room with her.

Michael puts the wine away.

“I’ll see you guy later…” He wishes, as casually as he can.

“Yeah, see you, bud.” Eleanor throws back, her mind clearly on more important things, with barely enough room left in her horny, lovesick brain to pay him notice anymore.

Chidi, however, meets his eyes, almost apologetic again, on her behalf.

“Don’t be a stranger, Michael.” He tells him, almost as an order.

The demon nods. No, sir.

“You know where to find me.” Always right there, for all of them.

Despite the hallow ache in his hearts, despite knowing that spark, that unbeatable connection he shared with the woman he loves, is now gone, that he’ll always be looking in from the outside, left out with his memories of what they could have been…He keeps Chidi’s words in his head. It might be the end of whatever beautiful mess he had with one of his humans, but perhaps it’s also the start of a friendship he didn’t realise how badly he needed with another.

#this was angstier when i first wrote it #so i maybe i feel better #yay #chidi x michael brotp #eleanor x chidi #michael x eleanor #hellstrop #cheleanor #tgp fanfic #unrequited love #friendship

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urproblematicfav-arsonk · 4 years

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There's a lot of things about Borderlands 3 that makes it kinda a garbage game. And all of those things are valid and true but a aspect of bl3 that deeply bothers me isn't something I've really seen people talk about?? Maybe they have but I missed it but I want to say my interpretation. (Also like, spoiler warning throughout all of this post)

To start off with: hi, I'm a autistic afab nonbinary person and this is relevant for this little rant I'm bout to go on.

I want to begin by stating why I love this franchise so much.

Borderlands, whether you like it or not, is INCREDIBLY queer. And not in a coded kind of way, it's just flat out gay as fuck. And that means so fucking much to me. Borderlands 2 was one of the first times I ever felt fully represented in a game. Zer0 being this dumbass making Yugioh references and generally being a fun garbage boy and also being nonbinary meant a lot to me and I adore him to this day (nonbinary people can use gendered pronouns fuc off). And getting more and more into this series and finding out that basically every character was on some level queer was really cool to me. Maya being asexual and most of the characters being attracted to multiple genders so honestly and off handily was so refreshing and amazing to get to play through. The casual mentions of a woman's wife or some man's husband in the echo's you find or Moxxi talking about her ex girlfriends was one of the reasons I loved this so much.

Another thing I loved particularly about Borderlands 2 was how feminist it was. I can not tell you how quickly I lost my shit at Mr. Torgue talking about the friend zone being misogynistic(it is btw). And the repeated jokes about fully murdering men for being rude to women was some of the highlights of my first playthrough. Punching a guy till he explodes because he disrespected a sex worker?? Fucking immaculate.

SPEAKING OF SEX WORK.

Mad Moxxi is a icon. She is a mother of MULTIPLE children, a survivor of rape and assault and a fucking bad bitch who runs a now intergalactic titty bar. Getting to have not only a sex worker be respected in a narrative, Moxxi is fun and a genuinely complex character who isn't defined by her job or her appearance. She is emotional and strong and funny and flawed but amazing person.

And then there's the way the male characters a represented and treated. I'll be honest here, I haven't really played Borderlands 1, mostly because have been spoiled by auto pick up and also I just didn't feel like it. So my idea of most of the men are based entirely off of Bl2, the pre-sequel and Tales. Anyway, Mordecai in particular is a character I really liked upfront. I love how a lot of his motivation and character is driven by his love of animals and Bloodwing. He's kind and though troubled knows when to get his shit together and be there when he needs to be. His casual "are you okay?" After the latter falls in the Arid Nexus was such a nice moment and the way he genuinely tries to be there emotionally for all of the people around him who he cares for is so fucking rare to see in a male character. And his arc of giving up alcohol to focus on being a better bird dad and you getting to help Brick make Mordecai a special gift to celebrate his sobriety is so amazing and I'm so proud of him.

Mr. Torgue is my dad and I love him. As mentioned, he is normal and believes that the friend zone is absolute garbage talk is ICONIC™ and the best scene in that game fight me. Torgue is a crybaby. He is an emotional person who is not afraid to express his pain and hurt when people are mean to him. He respects women and loves unicorns. The fact that is physical appearance is a big muscle guy who screams but is the literal opposite of toxic masculinity will forever make him the best male character of all time and I love him and he is my dad.

Roland was a character that I was never in particularly attached to but I still respect him and did enjoy his presence. I really appreciated his leadership style being primarily based on empathy and logic as opposed to him being a big meanie man with a HUGE dick who yells at people. I always really resonated with the echo from Tannis talking about how she came to Sanctuary. Roland going out of his way to bring Tannis to safety while completely respecting her autism and struggle with socializing really made his death hit harder when Tannis was very obviously distraught by losing him. It really seems that Roland was the only one who didn't treat her differently. And as someone who's autistic, finding people who legit 100% understand and respect you and just let you live the way you want/need to is kinda hard and those are the qualities I'd personally want in a leader.

Angel is also a big spot of affection for me. Handsome Jack being a irrefutably horrible person who Angel flat out says gaslights people and killed her means a lot to me considering 99% of Bad Parent stories end with "I forgive u" getting to see an abusive victim take that narrative and say fuck you was powerful and meant a lot to me coming from my own abusive home life.

There's a lot of other things I love about Borderlands but if I keep going I won't stop lol so let's get into why Borderlands 3 makes me so uncomfortable.

One of the main things that bothered me was the sexism. Its nothing too horrifying but given how feminist bl2 was it was really shocking and a bit hurtful the number of times women are called bitches or made to seem crazy. If you recall I brought up how you punch a man to death for calling a woman a bitch? Yea no, in this game we mock women for having boundaries and opinions because lol she's just a CRAZY BITCH who just needs to stop acting so hysterical am I right guys?

Yea the whole mission with that stupid bear thing and his ex robot girlfriend made me insanely uncomfortable and upset. I kept waiting for the gotcha moment where it says actually this bear guy is a dick and he shouldn't use language like that but no we just,,,,,, are supposed to laugh along. I hate it.

Even though Borderlands 3 is still very much queer, this game introducing 2 new trans characters as well as a whole DLC about a gay marriage and one of the playable characters being a lesbian there was this some shit that bothered me.

The mission where you crash and ruin a lesbian wedding.

That mission made so upset and uncomfortable. I hated how traumatized and hurt Tumorhead was as I murdered her family and wife. I hated how unfulfilling the mission was where PLOT TWIST the lady was actually a spy or whatever. I hate how there's a mission about ruining some poor psycho ladies wedding. I would've much more preferred a mission where Idk Bloodshine asks you to help her kill a spy who's causing problems and then fucking go around Promethea collecting wedding decorations or something. OR MAYBE JUST NOT A MISSION WHERE YOU KILL LESBIANS FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

I'm mad, anyway.

I also hated how Tannis was treated in this game. Under absolutely no circumstance would Doctor Patricia Tannis ever willingly take up a position of leadership. She is a severely autistic woman who gets nose bleeds from talking to people she wouldn't just be like "I'm in charge now pls talk to me!!!" Fuck off. And the joke about her dating a minecart isn't funny. The whole thing with the chairs, though funny in its absurdities was still a very important and powerful moment of character exploration. Tannis is insane. She is traumatized and hurt and in a moment of severe torture, she humanized some inanimate objects to cope. Tannis crying over the echo over Phillip is a heartbreaking moment of true vulnerability. It is also funny, because that's how good dark comedy works. It can be both hysterical and emotionally ruining at the same time. So what exactly does Tannis divorcing a minecart mean? What is this saying about her character? Why is it funny? Because lol lol reference??? Again, fuck off.

I hate how the Calypso twins childhood is handled. Troy implies it was horribly abusive and traumatic. But when we met Typhon whatever, he acts like it wasn't that bad??? He acts like he just didn't buy his kids the latest iPhone and oh no whoopsie now they're evil, my bad guys. It feels super weird and I don't like it.

Speaking of abusive parents. THEY DID MY GIRL ANGEL DIRTY SO BAD. This was literally when I decided I hated this game. Angel being the one who killed her mother and not Jack was fucking horrible. Especially after the literal foreshadowing in borderlands 2 implying he did. The fact that Jack is treated like a fearful man making what he thought was the right decision was insulting. I get that MattPat manipulated the fandom into thing Jack is a uwu bean but fuck you, you're the writers and you should fucking know better. Handsome Jack saw his daughter had power and turned her into a living battery for him to use as he saw fit. He was not scared and he was NOT right. Fuck you and fuck you for framing child abuse as chill and ok if your spooked enough like that. And the mission directly contradicts the echo's in Get To Know Jack. If Angel killed her mom why does she ask Jack where her mommy is when he's putting her in her chambers?? Why is it in the echo Jack is aggressive and forcibly and hurtfully makes her go into her chambers but in the memory, he's quiet and passive about it?? That's literally just flat out bad writing. Also fuck you.

Anyway,

I think that's really all I wanted to say about this topic. Obviously, there are also things that suck about bl3 but I'll try to chill and not make this too long.

I mostly wanted to make this to see if people cared/are bothered by the same things I am. I've seen how some of the fandom treats the more emotional and gay aspects of this franchise(the people throwing a fit over Amara, the friend zone line, not respecting trans peoples pronouns, sexualizing and being gross about Moxxi)

Anyway that's it byeeeeeeeeeeeee

#rant time #i was also gonna post this on reddit but it turns out i don't know how to use that app lol #so i prob wont #but dont worry still got tumblr #anyway #borderlands #borderlands spoilers #borderlands 3 spoilers #borderlands 3 #borderlands 2

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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because you’re the reason i go on

the post-”trying”, angsty, emotional, 6k+ oneshot no one asked for

Jake and Amy confront Camila Santiago about her judgemental ways at a Santiago-family event.

They’d been sitting quietly on their couch one afternoon, one where they both happened to have the day off, for once allowing them to hang around the apartment with no specific or urgent to-dos on their minds. This resulted in Amy keeping herself busy on their shared laptop, taking up a corner of their couch with her legs stretched out and feet resting in her husband’s lap, whilst Jake himself played Mario Party – he’d never say it out loud, because, in the end, it didn’t matter when it was the for the sake of their possible future child, but he’d really missed playing when the ‘way more scheduled’-Amy way had flipped their daily lives upside down.

It’d been a week, just barely, since they’d shared a disappointed glance at the sight of yet another, and for some time the last, pregnancy test in Amy’s hand. They both know a week wasn’t a long time meaning the aching in their hearts was perfectly normal. Just as well, giving them a sense of faith, the fact that they very much had each other to lean on and help manage the pain and frustration they still felt meant everything was, given the circumstances, fine.

Or at least it was until the updating of her inbox notified her of a new, very specific email which immediately caught her full attention.

As soon as the letters came together, quickly deciphered by her brain to form words with meaning, said meaning sent a dagger through her heart completely paralysing her. Even distracted by his video game he, Jake, could tell from the way the typing and clicking of the keyboard had so abruptly stopped that his wife had stopped amidst whatever she was doing.

“What’s up?” His eyes stayed glued to the tv where he was currently almost, and for once finally, beating Wario in the final lap of the game. Although that didn’t last for long since his wife’s obvious lack of reply, compared to Wario catching up to him during the final, crucial seconds, raised significantly greater awareness.

“Ames?” he tried looking this time, quickly snapping his head in her direction as to not miss out on the game, only to be met by the blank, hopeless expression on her face and still body: Something was definitely wrong.

“Hey,” this time he rushed to put down the controller, not caring about whether or not Wario would beat him again and instead using his newly freed hands to caringly rub her knee as he scooted in closer. “Amy, babe, what happened? Are you okay?”

Her empty expression, still staring blankly at the laptop screen, stayed stuck for another few beats before a small, single, torturously slow tear rolled down her cheek. This of course immediately alerted Jake even more.

“Amy,” he desperately tried to snap her out of it with a pleading, although remaining calm, voice whilst squeezing her knee as if she somehow, maybe, had forgotten he was there with her.

That’s when she finally resurfaced, turning her face to look directly at him only to reveal that there were matching tears rolling down her other, before out of sight to him, cheek. Although the last few months had been hard and had taken its toll on them both, especially her, Amy had seemed fine once they’d settled on not thinking about babies for a while: They both slept significantly better, reverted to their enjoyment of what was their usual regularities and, all in all, everything seemed back to the way things were.

So this sudden eruption of sadness from his wife, when just 30 minutes ago they’d joked around talking about what take-out, something they’d missed dearly during their trying-times, they should treat themselves with for dinner that night, worried Jake a lot.

“It’s-” she finally broke her muteness, then once again briefly pausing in silence to catch her breath like she’d been holding it. “Tony and Elena.”

Her husband’s brows furrowed with worry. He couldn’t tell what exactly she meant, which he hated, but it had struck her like lighting from a clear sky so it obviously had to be a great, sorrowful deal to her.

“What happened? Are they okay?”

With Amy’s huge family it was sometimes hard to keep track of every single member, but Jake had gotten pretty familiar with all of the Santiago-brothers and took, especially, great liking to the second oldest Tony.

“Y-yeah, they’re fine but they’re-“ her voice’s transition into whimpering interrupted her as she tried to hold back incoming tears alas quickly failing to do so.

“Jake, I’m such a horrible person for reacting like this,” her whimpering evolved further into small heaving sobs prompting Jake to, gently as to not further upset her, take the laptop away from her to get a look at whatever had triggered such reaction. His eyes wandered across the screen for a brief moment before his frame froze the same exact way her’s had just minutes earlier.

‘SURPRISE! JOIN US IN CELEBRATING ANOTHER FUTURE SANTIAGO’, wide and bold, screamed from the subject line of what was indeed and very clearly an email-invite to Elena and Tony Santiago’s baby reveal + shower.

A heavy sigh along with a defeated drop of Jake’s shoulders complied with the so happy yet so distressing nature of the news.

“Oh, babe…” he’d put the laptop away in order to be able to move freely before moving in to engulf his wife in the tightest hug possible allowing her to cry her sadness out into the crook of his neck, a spot which had grown to be her safe place, where she’d automatically buried her face the moment he pulled her sideways into his lap.

In Jake’s ears, not only as her husband but also being her best friend, any cry, even the smallest sniffle, from Amy Santiago was absolutely heartrending and a perfect world would be one where his wife was never hurt, angered or confused enough to need to utter these kind of sounds. In this perfect world there would be constant peace in her mind, a smile on her face and, goddamn, he wished more than anything else, a baby in her belly.

His hand, which had automatically tightened around her figure, started rubbing soothing circles between her heaving shoulder blade, the other pushing her beautiful raven locks of hair away from her face. There, to the newly exposed forehead, all while saying nothing thus giving her the needed space to cry it out all while wrapping her up in a safe presence of his own, he pressed a tender kiss. Quite a few years spent together with her had led to a lot more of maturing on his part. Suddenly he saw, understood even, a lot of the matters and issues from her perspective, one he’d before called the one of an ‘old cat-lady’. Jake had learned a lot from Amy, which he was especially thankful for during these kind of scenarios where he needed her. He took pride in being needed by Amy Santiago; thus he had to do it right.

This also meant that sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. “Silence is just as powerful as words” was one of the things she’d had taught him, so as long as he got to sit with her, letting her know that he was there for her, Jake could feel calm and confident about not interrupting her crying.

It was not too long after when the sobs, shaking and shock slowly wore off and silence engulfed the two wrapped up figures.

“Hey,” he spoke softly. Silence was the only reply he got but he was okay with that. The necessity of a reply wasn’t there; her attention was enough and he knew he had it. Meanwhile his neck had craned in an attempt to get the best possible look at her face where it was still resting into the soft curve of his neck. The tiniest shuffle of her shoulder as she readjusted in his lap confirmed that she indeed listening.

“You don’t have to do anything you genuinely don’t want to do. You know that right?”

It was all she could give for now, which was okay, Jake thought, when he felt the nodding movement of her head against his neck.

“Okay good,” he paused thinking for a brief second before resolving on leaving a feathery stroke to her forehead with the length of his nose, his lips automatically taking over afterwards in one swift movement.

“We don’t have to go if you’re not genuinely feeling up for it. We can just say we both have work that day.”

Beneath where his hands were continuously drawing lazy circles on her upper back Jake could tell she was thinking – hard. Then suddenly her face was no longer hiding in his soft skin, instead she rose to an upright position although remained put in his lap. With red eyes, a version of his favorite pair of eyes he hated to witness, she looked at him.

“I just...” She sniffed in the process of wiping tears off her face with the back of the hand that wasn’t keeping her stable with a hold on her husband’s firm shoulder. “If I choose not to go then it means I’m letting this deterring situation get the best of me, and I just-“

As if he hadn’t already been aching for his wife and feeling utterly frustrated by the feeling that came along with it being way beyond his control, her voice, once again, started to quake, slowly and torturously breaking Jake’s heart like a disk on repeat. The following words made it out in-between tiny sobs and heaving halts from trying to hold them back.

“I can’t let it control me, Jake. I don’t want to it to define me more than it already has.”

It. Two letters: one word… The one, little word substituting for whatever force was keeping them from becoming pregnant contained so much pain. He cupped her face in his hands trying to fight her tears by wiping them away but alas; every time he had, new ones just dropped right in the exact same spot.

“Shhh,” he whispered pulling her back into his chest with the strong urge, and the only way he could think of to protect her from what, lately, had been the very cruel and unfair world around them. He didn’t say anything else right away once again leaving her space to continue speaking if she wished to, but all that came out of her and into his neck were small whimpers.

“It doesn’t define you, Ames. You’re bigger than this and it doesn’t change who you are. And for every single ‘me’ you say, you have to remember that I’m right here in this with you. Whatever has happened and whatever will happen is something we’re in together.”

Shuffling against his neck followed by the tingling sensation of her warm lips against the skin let him know that what he’d said had struck the right chord.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“No, thank you for being so incredible. And if you want to go then we will and if you don’t, then that’s alright too and we just won’t. No bigger deal than that, okay?”

He looked down to be met by a rush of relief; a tiny faint smile was once again present on her face.

“Okay.”

***

Thus it resulted in Jake and Amy, together as the unit they were, deciding to disregard what the pain was telling them to do and instead just go. A few days after their talk that afternoon, the emotional knockout upon receiving the email, Amy had looked herself in the mirror one evening and agreed with herself: no, this shouldn’t define her and therefor she wouldn’t let it.

But even then, on the morning of the baby shower, Amy caught herself feeling overwhelmed, emotions stronger than anticipated even though she was still circling around the will to admit. Slow and unconsciously, allowing her no fighting chance to prevent it, a train of pestering thoughts infested her mind. Looking at her reflection in the mirror feeling ready and put together, pretty even, wearing simple makeup and one of her staple floral dresses, she suddenly hated how she wished the skirt of it was draped over a round belly, one with a baby in it, rather than her usual curves.

In the midst of this staring contest from hell with her own reflection there was suddenly the sudden urge to break down all over again; give up and go back to bed like a way more manageable alternative to smiling and pretending to be okay around people who’d so easily accessed what she was dying to have. In the very same instance her jaw locked in an attempt to hold back a whimper, when her eyes blinked obsessively to wipe away incoming tears forming in the sockets, her husband, thankfully, appeared behind her in the reflection she suddenly hated so much.

“Is my favorite incredible, beautiful wife ready to go?” He wrapped his arms around her middle like it was the most right thing in the world instantly making her forget that, just a second, she’d hate that specific area of her body.

Amy could feel her jaw unclench and the tears stand down from their position on the verge to falling the minute the sound and feeling of Jake engulfed her. This was without a doubt what saved her from breaking down right then and there.

“As ready as she’ll ever be,” she sighed with a small smile looking at him in the mirror.

He nodded, understanding.

“Good. And remember: if it becomes too much, or you’re just not feeling it, then let me know. We’ll be out of there before you can say ‘Pierogis, potato pancakes and hot chocolate’.”

This turned out to be an excellent example of exactly why she needed Jake Peralta: a chuckle danced off her lips as it was indeed close to, if not entirely, impossible not to be charmed by his small jokes and overall sweetness. She then turned around hitting him with the kind of smile she knew he was always yearning for like she did for his.

“Thank you, I will,” she placed a hand to his cheek to stroke it in a small act of gratitude. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ames. So much,” he quickly pecked her lips before sending her a tender smile.

“And I wish I could continue to stand around all day to tell you that over and over again, but I really don’t feel like being on the receiving end of that judgmental look your mom always gives me if we are more than 10 seconds late.”

Once again her point was proven: it was impossible to hold back a smile and chuckle around him.

“That’s fair. Let’s go.”

They untangled only to lock hands on their way to the car. The 30-minute drive to Tony and Elena’s house was comfortable considering where they were headed to and how nervous Amy had felt right before leaving the house.

To her defense, with Jake’s right hand on her thigh rubbing small circles with his thumb, accompanied by their favorite jams and loud, horrible but nonetheless enjoyable singing, Amy actually forgot why she was feeling anxious about the day’s event in the first place. This especially when Jake performed ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in such a cheesy and overdramatic way, right to the point where it was almost too much since he chose to direct every word at her whilst, of course, still focusing on the road ahead. Luckily there were quite a few red lights along the trip for him to safely twist his body and directly serenade her with his Celine Dion-impression which successfully earned him loud affectionate laughter.

The mood was set and they were both ready to take on whatever the previously half-dreaded baby shower would turn out to hit them with: good or bad. Although, when they knocked on the front door Jake felt Amy shuffle nervously. Wanting to put out the fire of anxiety he could tell was sparking within her, he quickly grabbed his wife’s hand to give it a small, affectionate squeeze, telling her he was right there. They’d agreed on this and he’d do anything within his power to take sure: the baby shower would be okay.

And it had been okay.

It had been okay to see Elena glow with her growing, round belly. It had been okay to be surrounded by colorful balloons, cupcakes and presents. It had been okay to congratulate her brother and his wife, genuinely meaning it from the bottom of her heart. It had been okay.

Until it hadn’t been.

All the guests, which included eight Santiago-siblings with respective partners plus the future grandparents and a couple of Tony and Elena’s closest friends, were all spread throughout the living room in the suburban home. It had been a couple of hours of mingling, opening gifts and snacking on color-coordinated goods, and although one of them would occasionally stray off or get pulled aside by a familiar face, Jake and Amy mostly stuck together and admired the buzzing brunch-party from a safe distance. This when they weren’t catching up with Amy’s siblings or giving Tony a helping hand with small tasks so that he could enjoy the festivities alongside his wife.

Everything was going smoothly making Amy consider how she’d completely blown the entire thing out of proportions before coming. In retrospect she could see how it had been silly and a waste of her own energy to be so scared of feeling like the odd one out on a day that was Tony and Elena’s day. No one would actually care about her lack of a growing baby-bump when they were here to celebrate someone else’s.

Or that’s what she’d thought.

“Amy, ” Elena’s mother had called out sending them a warm accommodating smile as she snaked her way through the crowd to where they were currently resting on the couch while enjoying some kind of sweet sparkling wine.

“Hello, Mrs. Cardea,” Amy greeted politely as she got back on her feet to hug the slightly familiar face. Tony and Elena had been together for quite a while, even before getting married 3 years prior, which meant Elena’s mother was no stranger. On the other hand it’d been a while since Amy had last seen her, which meant the introduction and use of last name was more out of politeness and routine than anything else.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear. It’s a luck that I frequent your mother quite a bit so that she can let me know how you’re doing.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Amy returned the sweet sentiment of the older woman’s remark. Beside her she could feel Jake follow her lead standing up and reaching out to shake the newcomers hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Cardea. I’m Jake Peralta.” He paired the greeting with his best polite smile.

“Oh,” the older woman’s eyes widened. “So you’re the famous boyfriend of the only Santiago-girl? ”

The couple let out a collective chuckle exchanging tiny, secret smiles in reaction to the unintentional mislabeling.

“Husband, actually,” Jake grinned proudly raising his hand to show off the silver-band which, with two years of marriage and an even older love, felt like natural, extended part of his body.

As if the revelation had come out of nowhere, which puzzled Amy since her mother must’ve mentioned their marriage to Mrs. Cardea at some point, if they spoke regularly, like the woman claimed, Mrs. Cardea’s smile transitioned into a lightly confused gape.

“My oh my,” Mrs. Cardea seemed to be at a loss of words but quickly picked herself back up and within seconds the smile, warm and genuine, was back. But even then Amy could tell something was off. “I can’t believe Camila didn’t tell me. Must’ve slipped her mind.”

The wedding of her only daughter slipped her mind? Amy hoped to God Elena’s mom was right, a feeling of anger slowly coming to a simmer inside of her. Although she couldn’t let people around her know, she had the strong urge to storm of to talk to her mom or pull Jake aside to rant, but for now she bit her lip and put on a brave, now very forged smile.

“Yeah…” Amy tried to give the off-roading conversation a nudge back on track which Jake quickly picked up on, prompting him to reassuringly grab her hand. “… I’m sure she just forgot.”

“I’m sure it’s a mouthful with so many kids to keep track of,” Mrs. Cardea cackled obviously not picking up on the iffy mood surrounding the topic.

Then the feared, for a while forgotten, bomb was dropped.

“Speaking of kids, especially now that I know that you’re married: when are you going to give this fine young husband of yours his first child?”

First of all Amy hated how she made it sound like she would be making Jake a favor by falling pregnant. Secondly, if Amy thought she’d already gone through the peak of the pain from what they were going through at the moment, then she was dead wrong. Right then and there, being slapped across the face with those words, Amy felt her heart completely fall apart. More frustrating than not being physically able to make a child was being reminded of it by a, basically, stranger who knew nothing of what they were going through within the four walls of their home.

Beside her, out of the corner of her eye, there was no doubt that Jake had flinched along with her, evidently clenching his jaw in order to suppress a biting reply. If it hadn’t been for the crowd around them she would’ve collapsed in anger and tears, meanwhile he would’ve definitely snapped at the poor Mrs. Cardea.

“We’re just getting settled into married life and we’re in no rush. It’ll happen when it happens.”

To Amy’s relief Jake did his best, as always, to stay calm and advert the situation in favor of them both. He squeezed her hand, firmly believing what he said even though it also happened to be a half, tiny white lie since now was no time nor place to tell a stranger that ‘Well we’ve been trying for the past eight months, hopelessly and with every trick in the book, but nothing seems to work so right now we’re kind of just trying to get through the pain of quite possible not being able to conceive.’

Even though Jake, Amy included, thought he’d adverted the situation nicely apparently Mrs. Cardea saw this from a completely different perspective. The older woman’s before sweet smile faltered to one of a rather skeptical nature, implicitly telling the couple that this was not what she’d expected to hear.

“Well…” the older woman recomposed herself to speak even though all Jake and Amy wished for was to get away from the conversation and the radical road it was currently being forced down. Amy knew her family was one of old traditions, and even though she’d learned to deal with it and, to some extent, respect it, she in no way wished for her and Jake to take part in it. They were their own family.

“Just make sure to not wait around for too long, Amy. I mean, compared to your brothers, it has already taken you quite some time to evem get married: you wouldn’t want to risk waiting for, well, too long, to make a baby.”

Amy thought she’d just barely survived the worst but now, this, was the equivalent of an emotional apocalypse slowly shutting her entire being and will to do, try, speak, anything, down. Her surroundings seemed to darken letting her know it was only a matter of crucial moments before she’d be shut down completely and beyond social criterion. The simultaneous ache in her head, her heart, her entire body actually, was too overwhelming to ignore anymore.

“I’m-“ she barely managed to utter whilst staring into nothing because it was better than to look at anything in this room that reminded her of what she for some ungodly reason couldn’t have. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

With the blunt announcement that she was leaving, not even caring about what Elena’s mom thought of her sudden switch, Amy detangled her hand from Jake’s in order to rush away to wherever she could turn into a decent hiding place. For the next few hours or perhaps forever. Suddenly, like an epiphany, all she could seem to think about was getting out of the house and lock herself inside their car. There, at least, there was no risk getting found since, apparently, no one knew she was married and, even less, had a champagne-colored midsized Sedan. It was bulletproof.

Or, it was, right up until life seemed to have other plans for her, because getting to the car turned out to mean ‘going through the kitchen’ and ‘going through the kitchen’ meant ‘stumbling into her mother’, who then was about to reprimand her for not paying attention to where she was going. the sight of tears streaming down her daughter’s face caused her to halt though.

“What’s wrong, mija?”

Wrong. The word haunted her: she, Amy Santiago, was wrong: her body was wrong, biology was wrong, giving up was wrong, continuing to try was wrong, all in all everything was wrong. It had to be when something she wanted more than anything else in the world seemingly wasn’t meant to be hers. However, her mother, the one person in her life who was, more than anyone else, supposed to make her feel right? She made her feel, if possible, even more faulty.

Seconds prior to the colliding all she had been able to think about was getting the hell out of the house. But now, seeing her mother, triggered something angry, spiteful even, within her, setting free all the words and thoughts her brain, unknowing to Amy herself, had formed.

“What’s wrong, you ask?” Amy heaved with broken, wet eyes shooting daggers. Her brain short-circuited making Amy unsure of exactly what had been said past this point. “You’ve kept my marriage a secret because you’re embarrassed.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because your only daughter, the only chance for you to experience ‘your little girl becoming a mother’, has been married for two years,” she over-articulated the last two words as emphasis. “And she still hasn’t had a child of her own, and to make matters even worse? She’s not even pregnant. That’s, apparently, embarrassing.”

Amy felt a figure rush up behind alas the heat of the moment resulted in her not even caring one bit. Tears were impairing her sight and all she had to get through was another few points – then she could leave.

“Ames, honey,” the figure behind her was Jake gently mumbling into her ear, carefully, as to not startle her before placing his hands on her waist. “We can go if you want to.”

He could tell his mother-in-law looked rather pale, more tight-lipped than usual, but had yet to put two and two together. That was until Amy spoke up again, chest heaving with all the sadness and sobs she was fighting so hard to repress.

“I’m not embarrassed, Amy,” her mother spoke to her own defense, of course paired with the look of pity, a look Amy hated. “I just don’t understand why you and Jake want to wait so long? Why is it that you must do things differently than everyone else just to prove a point?”

Not only did this strike Amy twice as hard as anything else that’d been said that day; this time Jake was not only aching for his wife but also for himself. This was bigger and more personal than Camila Santiago having high expectations for her kids, wanting them to shine and succeed at everything. No, this time it was wholly inequitable discrimination of her daughter’s way of living her life, included Jake and the things she struggled with when no one else was looking.

This was also drawing a line; the very last straw.

Jake broke in, stepped out from behind Amy to instead take a protective stand in front of her. It was no secret that Jake was terrified of his mother-in-law but if there was something which could make him not give that the tiniest care in the world, then it was the second she dismissed Amy they way she just had.

“First of all, with all due respect, Camila, you have no right to deprecate the things Amy, neither the things Amy and I, do and do not chose to do. It’s her life and while you’re her mother, which is just one of many good reasons why you should support her unconditionally, you have no right to talk her down the way you are right now.”

Angry was not a word Jake was very familiar with but by now his regular voice had definitely transitioned into a defensive scowl, eyes shadowed by anger and jaw clenched whenever he wasn’t speaking: he was not about to let another one of Mrs. Santiago’s jab at his wife slip by – especially now that it concerned such a delicate matter.

“All Amy wants is to please you, but you never actually take the time to acknowledge anything she does and at some point, which I strongly believe is now, it has to stop. You can’t reprimand her like she’s a little child living a life as if it was an open, always accessible book to you. You don’t know half the things she does and goes through: you take no interest in hearing about or understanding the bad, the hard, the frustrating… And the incredible things she does? You ignorantly dismiss them. She has no chance of winning with you.”

Jake was almost chuffing from lack of air caused by combination of exuding anger and the fast talking. He too was now getting emotional feeling the weight of the past months pushing down on him. Leading up to today’s events he’d remained extra strong and supportive for Amy but, truth be told, he was hurting just as much as she was.

“As a matter of fact, if you must know, Amy and I have been trying for a baby for quite some time now… And it’s been very,” he paused to swallow and compose himself before continuing, ”hard.”

A lump started to form in his throat, obviously affecting the pitch of his voice quickly prompting Amy to grab his right hand with both of hers from where she was still shielded behind him. Before him, when she finally seemed to understand what Jake was really telling her, he could clearly tell how Camila’s expression changed from cold, probably annoyed by her daughter’s “rowdy husband” meddling, to shocked and actually showing emotions.

“Oh, mija,” she looked past Jake to get a hold of her daughter’s hiding eyes. “I had no idea. You should’ve told me… It doesn’t have to mean that you can’t have a baby. There’s probably just something you’re doing wrong, and I-“

“No,” once again Jake was quick to interrupt her, the word bursting out his mouth out as a snarl, before she could finish the sentence.

“Amy’s been doing everything perfectly right, and even beyond, so you don’t get to tell her otherwise.”

Silence enveloped the entire kitchen whilst the life of the party buzzed in the background.

Camila stood frozen in the very same spot she’d been caught in for the past few minutes. Here, after what felt like a lifetime, Jake made up his mind and decided that there was nothing else to say. Getting the hell out of there to take care of his wife was of higher priority than waste time, hopelessly and with no gain, trying to talk Camila to her senses.

He turned around to look his wife directly in the eyes, searching for some kind of sign that would tell him that what he’d just done was okay – it was Amy’s mother, after all.

And although tears were still washing down her face Amy also couldn’t help but send him a small affirmative nod. If she hadn’t been too busy crying she’d tell him that, once again, him acting by instinct had paid off.

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

He took another good look at her to make sure that she was okay for now, then quickly replied with a whisper telling her “Of course. Let’s go,” before leading her away and out of the house by the hand. Once he’d gotten her settled in the car Jake ran back to grab their coats, in the meantime also coming up with an excuse to Tony and Elena about Amy being sick thus having to leave. Jake was unsure of whether or not either hosts had overheard the fight but nonetheless they both nodded understandingly, thanking Jake and Amy for the gift and for coming.

So yes, the baby shower had been okay until it hadn’t been.

***

In contrast to the ride to the party, the ride back home was very quiet with minimal to no words spoken. Amy knew she could speak up, if she wished to, but then the act of staring out the window, watching the city grow thicker and thicker by the mile, simply seemed more manageable. Once in a while Jake would throw a glance in her direction to make sure she was somewhat okay while also keeping in mind that the urge to get home and hold her didn’t cause him to drive irresponsibly.

Immediately upon arriving back home, the minute the door closed behind them trapping them in their own little cocoon, Amy carelessly, and very unusually, Jake couldn’t help but notice, kicked of her shoe before heading in the direction of their bedroom. Although Jake was fast, managing to grab her wrist before tugging her back to wrap her up in his arms. This, hopefully, would prompt her to react however she needed to.

And indeed, the moment she was tugged into him and her face could hide from the world in the crook beneath his neck, she did. The heaving movement of her shoulders came first, then the muffled sobs.

Jake, knowing that the silence on the way back home was both of them fighting a war within themselves with only a of question of not if but when they’d burst at the seams, could only hold her as tight as physically possible whilst rocking her back and forth as his own eyes started to prick.

During his life time Jake Peralta had undergone many kinds of pain: anything from, compared to this moment, that is, stupid bagatelles like watching the woman he was pining for be with someone else to being wrongfully accused and sent to prison, where he lived a daily life in a constant state a fear. Nonetheless it was still crystal clear that nothing, not by a longshot, had ever been able to tear him to shreds like seeing his wife suffer from something so out of his, or anyone’s, control.

“I wish I could take your pain away,” he mumbled into the top of her head, his voice tearful and heavy from despair.

Another sob, this time smaller, escaped her body before the next sound he could hear was her taking a deep breath.

“I know,” she sniffled as her shoulder rose in fighting another incoming cry in the meantime also allowing her lungs to stock up on just enough fresh air. Then silence. The quietness, the silence after the storm, that came after felt post-apocalyptic, when in reality they were in the eye of the hurricane: in the clear but surrounded by chaos.

But perhaps that was good enough for now.

“…And I yours, Jake. God, I wished.”

“I know,” he smiled, through tears, into her hair before burying his face in it. Nothing felt safer than her – even during her darkest hours. In the end he felt reassured as long as she was there by his side and he by hers.

“But one day at a time,” he sniffled peaking tears away. “Okay?”

He felt her untuck from his neck, her safe spot, in order to look at him properly for the first time since they left Tony’s house. As expected her eyes were bloodshot, exhausted and red, although there was also a tiny twitch, something hinting at a smile, of the corner of her lips that implicitly accepted Jake’s statement.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“I love you, Ames,” he tipped his head down evening out their height difference in order to press his forehead to hears. “And I’m so stupidly in love with you.”

Finally, this was what it took, a full smile broke out on her lips; a smile which Jake Peralta wasted no second reciprocating. It didn’t matter that the affectionate chuckle sliding off her lips was half-teary from the intense crying nor that her cheeks were still very much damp and puffy; Amy Santiago was wholeheartedly chuckling and this Jake Peralta had been dying to witness.

“And I know things aren’t turning out how we had hoped, at least not right now, but…” His fingers calmly, almost unconsciously, slid down to stroke her waist, his forehead still leaning against hers.

“… I’m never going to stop loving or being in love with you, Amy Santiago, so there’s no need to worry. We’ve got time… Time to hurt, time to laugh, time to fall down and then get back up again. It doesn’t feel like it now, which is so very okay… ” he pulled back to look right into her eyes, making sure to emphasize his point, “… But in the end, we’re going to be the ones in control of our lives: Not biology, not your mom, not anyone or anything else. If we want a child then that’s what we’ll have - one way or the other, I promise you.”

Tears were once more forming in her eyes although this time, to his relief, it appeared to be tears of joy rather than sadness. Being sad suddenly seemed so distant, so irrelevant, when she had a husband who loved her that much.

“And, like I said and will continue to say for as long as you need to hear it: we don’t have to think about a final solution now.”

On one hand she wanted to say something, express and return the incredible amount of love he always provided, yet, on the other hand, the need to grab his face and pull him into the deepest kiss possible was stronger. This, by all means, resulted in Amy doing exactly so. Of course Jake responded to the gesture so naturally thus allowing his hands to freely roam her entire body, up, down and around. There was no stopping them. He loved her and she loved him. This she’d whisper, whimper, whine and moan into his ear, neck, lips and chest, multiple times in the course of the day’s final hours as they stumbled across the floor, through the doors of their apartment without a single care about the outside world.

That night, intertwined, showering each other with love and chasing away the remnants of despair, nothing else seemed of great, grave nor grievous importance. Maybe, yes, the hurting wasn’t entirely behind them yet, but even so, something about hurting for love and the life they wanted to build together seemed to make that fact acceptable. Hurting also meant they were fighting, ultimately meaning that they weren’t giving up.

Hurting was hard, but also important for the process, and doing it together, thankfully, did the difference between unbearable and acceptable.

Life was unpredictable, not everything was in their control, but, as long as they were with the right people, they could handle anything. And they were, since the very first day, stuck across from each other as bickering partners at the Nine-Nine, the right people for each other.

#peraltiago #peraltiago fanfiction #Jake and Amy #jake x amy #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #b99 #fanfiction #oneshot #angst #trying #baby peraltiago

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reconditarmonia · 3 years

Text

Dear Fandom 5K Author

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but mods can contact me with any questions.

Dragon Age | Fullmetal Alchemist | The Locked Tomb | Motherland: Fort Salem | Where the Sky is Silver and the Earth is Brass

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; infidelity; unrequested polyamory; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; unrequested trans versions of characters.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity.

—

Fandom: Dragon Age

Character(s):

Group: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Lavellan

Female Lavellan

Group: Charter & Rector

Genre(s):

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Action/Adventure

Worldbuilding

Established Relationship

Mystery/Procedural

I'm playing this game for the first time and loving Cassandra and Lavellan together so much. (I'm playing with a mod where I can romance her with a female PC!) Lavellan starts off as this confused and small and non-Andrastian prisoner who disagrees with Cassandra on so many things, but Cassandra puts so much trust and faith in her and so much on the line for her - even with Lavellans who are adamant that they're not chosen, they're just doing their best and they happen to be the ones in the position to make this choice. Cassandra is so proud to know her, and backs her up even when she disagrees with Lavellan's choices! The romance scene is really cute between two characters who are adults and have a day-to-day working relationship that isn't going to change, but are still just having fun with how charming it is in a way that builds on their friendship. Not to mention their battling together, of course - the ways they can protect each other and fight for each other's goals (and give Cassandra all the elven swords and shields), how worried they sound if the other one gets hurt...whoops, I found myself another loyalty kink ship.

I also just like playing as Lavellan generally, with how much of an outsider she feels (the "Dawn Will Come" scene is so alienating! it really works!) and how much of the game is about visiting the sites of past elven trauma and/or glory days.

My Lavellan uses the (default lol) name of Ellana, is a rift mage, sports a lovely buzzcut and vallaslin, has a lot of feelings about elf history (and visiting the Plains/Graves especially), believes in elven gods and doesn't care to pretend she's Andrastian, and besides Cass is closest friends with Solas, but don't feel that you have to write my specific PC - I'm excited to read about yours too!

But! I also love all the little hints about the work that Leliana's agents are doing, and their friendship (walking in on their card game at Caer Bronach is kind of delightful), and the letter from Rector's mother asking why he uses a code name for work (why are you ashamed of your name, Wilbur??) is one of my favorite in-universe documents. Slice-of-life or slice-of-mission with Charter and Rector would also make me really happy. Here again, just the closeness and trust and faith that these people have in one another is my jam.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Canon-typical levels of Cassandra's association with the Chantry and belief in the Maker/Andraste/the Herald shouldn't be taken to contravene my DNW of Christian themes, but I wouldn't want Satinalia fic or something focused on the Andrastian faith. Please don't put F!Lavellan in a different romance, even if we didn't match on the Cassandra ship.

—

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Character(s):

Group: Olivier Mira Armstrong/Maria Ross

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Getting Together

I'll admit: I am a shallow, shallow person who loves the heartwarming and id-satisfying Briggs loyalty-kink complex (The watch! Buccaneer handing Olivier a clean pair of gloves after she kills Raven! Constant and deeply sincere saluting! Olivier’s explanation of why she wants Miles around and her lack of patience for anyone’s shit) but would like an f/f manifestation of it for actual shipping. Post-canon or AU where Maria is assigned to Briggs, or works for Olivier in Central? Does Maria foil a plot against Olivier, or Olivier save Maria's life in battle? Does Olivier order Maria into a firefight? Hit me.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Olivier/men, even mentioned.

—

Fandom: The Locked Tomb

Character(s):

Matthias Nonius

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Fantasy

Nonius was one of my favorite new characters in Harrow the Ninth. His whole impossible arrival via evocation-by-poetry, battle with the Sleeper, and epic departure to fight the Beast made me very, very happy on levels I have trouble explaining. It was so heartwarming?! Because it was impossible, and because poetry won, and because they went off to do the best they could...I don't know, exactly. (Iiiii also just love that he's named for the Redwall mouse.) I'd love to read more about his life - being unprepossessing and very human but also paladin-like and really fucking good at being a swordsman, representing the Ninth House in slightly less decrepit times, his mysterious past with Gideon the First (and Pyrrha, sort of), however it happened that he died far from home in an unknown place and couldn't be recovered for burial, "chickenshits don't get beer"? Or, er, his afterlife - going to fight with Marta, Ortus, and Pro, re-encountering G1deon as allies...

—

Fandom: Motherland: Fort Salem

Character(s):

Group: Abigail Bellweather/Raelle Collar

Original Historical Witch Character(s)

Group: Sarah Alder & First Bellweather Ancestor

Genre(s):

Action/Adventure

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Mystery/Procedural

Worldbuilding

I fell hard for this show and Abigail/Raelle is the ship I’m most excited about - they get off to a bad start for all kinds of personal history reasons and have problems with each other, but when it gets down to the wire Abigail would do anything for Raelle and is very gung-ho about having Raelle’s unconventional but extremely powerful magic under her leadership, regardless of Raelle being a loose cannon. She told her she loved her!! <3 And by the end, Raelle also clearly knows what Abigail's going through (like when she talks her down in "Citydrop"), respects her leadership, and cares deeply about her and wants to protect her in return. I love that loyalty dynamic, and their competence as fighters/witches.

Physical combat, strength in general, magical strength, ability to work magic together, knowledge of the magical canon vs. out-of-the-box techniques...what parts of their skills and their bond could be challenged in the weird dimension that the end of season 1 leaves them in? Or when they get back home and new challenges await? (In my head, the decision not to send them to War College is not revoked; the unit becomes some kind of special-forces secret strike team rather than cannon fodder.) Maybe something where Raelle goes/has gone into a fight as a berserker-type for Abigail and then comes back to her, or where Abigail protects/has protected her soldier (her girl!! I love her protectiveness of Raelle towards the other cadets, imagine it in a battle!)? Or an arranged marriage AU where it's usual for witch soldiers to marry to combine their magic power or something...If including smut in the story, I'd especially be up for something d/s-y where the loyalty-kinky dynamic of Raelle being Abigail's weapon, at her command, is echoed in sex!

OR. The alternate history that the show has created is so interesting and I'm craving expansion of that through fic! Tell me about the Bellweather ancestor who was a slave and ended up powerful and influential enough to begin a dynasty, and how she met and was recruited by Alder. Or other enslaved witches, witches in the American Revolution or the Civil War, or the founding of Fort Salem and standardization of American military magic with its various influences, or Chinese or Jewish or Mexican immigrant witches who maybe came from different magic traditions and might have had to make the choice of whether or not to reveal that they had magic (if the system knows you because of your descent in the country?), serving their country but also binding their daughters and granddaughters forever.

Fandom-Specific DNW: Abigail/Adil (at all; if he's mentioned, please make them just friends), focus on Raelle/Scylla (dwelling on Raelle still having feelings for Scylla or on her getting over Scylla for Abigail; you don't need to retcon their having been together), Scylla bashing.

—

Fandom: Where the Sky is Silver and the Earth is Brass

Character(s):

Chaye Roznatovsky

Demon

Genre(s):

Fantasy

Canon-Style Plot - Freeform

Worldbuilding

Anything expanding on this story would make me really happy. Chaye’s years with the partisans, the comrades-in-arms she had and loved then and who else’s memory she holds or makes into a weapon, her journey to America, going by the surname of “no one.” The demon’s mirror world, its loss of that world (what exactly happened on the other side?) and its need to be where Jews are, demon Judaism? Or the future of both of them now that they’ve found each other!

Fandom-Specific DNW/Opt-In: DNW Chaye/demon. The premise of the story being what it is, I'm explicitly okay with antisemitism being a prominent feature of the story if you write something that covers either or both characters' backstory, but would prefer post-war antisemitism not to be a focus.

#dear author letters #dragon age #gideon the ninth #motherland: fort salem #fma

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