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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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bluegiragi · 3 months

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The movement, dynamism and emotion of the characters is so engaging and audiences clearly adore the relationships and stories you tell with your art

Occasionally though, there's something awkward about the proportions of some of the figures in your work. The stomach to pelvis area of the konig piece seems abnormally long, though accentuated by his posture. Sometimes the heads of characters also look both elongated at the jaw and also too small for their bodies, which feel a little unrealistically shaped at times

I've been noticing these points for some months now, wondering if proportioning would improve with time. You have a very distinct storytelling style, and I understand that this message might come across as unkind, but I don't know how else to word it and I don't know if anyone would be willing to point it out to you considering your successes and status in the cod fandom

Whatever you choose to make of these words, even if you delete the message immediately, I'm certain your work will continue to grow and thrive, and I do wish you every future success that you earn

hello anon! I apologise if I’ve come off as complacent in my art over the past months, but I assure you I am always doing my best to improve my art, and I think I have in some areas. Believe me, I am at all times very aware of my shortcomings as an artist.

I want to thank you for wording this in such a considerate way, but would also invite you to not send messages like this in the future to artists who aren’t clearly asking for critique. I don’t believe my art is making massive missteps that require education (such as drawing poc features in an offensive way, or anything else that might justify some immediate words of advice), and the insinuation that I am not improving fast enough is a little hurtful, as is the idea that a lot of people are somewhere, quietly agreeing with this viewpoint and choosing not to tell me because of some perceived, ephemeral status in a fandom.

I hope I’m not coming off as defensive here. I just think I’ve never positioned myself as someone who has nothing more to learn, and in fact mentions many times that my anatomy is not perfect, and that I have a long way to go. Thank you for your advice, but in the future, I believe it might be best to just assume the artist knows their own weaknesses.

#I hope I expressed myself appropriately #you could’ve been much meaner anon #and I thank you for…being…not that #askbox #anon

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

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wyll, in my opinion, gets the standard fare treatment for characters that are unequivocally good. i.e. people think he's boring and uninteresting. standard fare might be kind actually given the level of racism and unexplained slander (which is often just more thinly veiled racism). his reputation about being boring is not helped by the very blatant neglect of his storyline post his rewrite and release. as a wyll enjoyer i am hyperaware of the sorry state of his current story in all three acts

despite all of that and the glaring flaws - i still believe that wylls storyline is worth of being engaged with and explored.

one of the reasons (not the most major one, but one) i think wyll experiences so much neglect as a companion stems from a wider idea that "goodness" is always the uncomplicated, easy choice.

it's something i see a lot. wyll is boring because of his archetype as a princely and universally righteous guy. and this is interesting, because it always seems to functions under the assumption that wylls moral character is innate. that his heroic and righteous actions are in some capacity, uncomplicated.

uniquely among the male origin companions, through the course of wylls story - there is never a point in which he is at risk of making a truly 'bad' choice. both gale and astarions story have them at risk of making choices that are ultimately bad for them and others (especially tav when each character is romanced). gales godhood and astarions ascension are their in game moral failings. they are the result of having not broke the cycle and are 'bad' choices for the individual character.

wylls main choice is however his pact and the choice to break that pact. notably - wyll is never at risk of making a bad choice, only a selfish one.

from the critique i see of wyll - it seems like this is the element of him people find most egregious. he's too smooth, not rugged enough, not gritty enough. but i don't think wyll's character needs grit, necessarily.

if you take any time to dissect wyll at all, based on dialogue and character interaction, many of his choices put himself at the forefront of sacrifice. the game strips wyll of a lot of agency, but wyll also always abides by and sticks to his core belief. so often towards his own detriment.

not only does wyll bear the consequence of being turned into a devil (stripping him of the last remaining shred of identity he's ever had and one of the most important things in his life), he bore the burden of being banished when he made his pact, and was willing to do the same for the sake of his father when he is taken to moonrise.

and unlike gale (who i adore, to be clear) who's concept of self-sacrifice stems mostly from a low self-worth - the belief that dying is the best he can do - wyll truly views that it's better him than them.

wyll does not think twice about allowing himself to be the one to take the fall. he can play any part, take any role, even when these choices haunt him so obviously. wyll claims that he forgives his father, but opens up to you about fearing his feelings of missing him are one-sided. he believes that making his pact was the right choice, the one he would make again - but doesn't deny the obvious pain and solace that came along with being a wandering traveler and banished son.

wylls goodness is so deliberate. he is so staunch in upholding and acting on his beliefs that it is always narrative to his own detriment. when you view wyll like this , and view his choices with regards this character attribute, it is imo very hard to hate him.

wyll's goodness is his double edged sword. it makes him heroic, brave, fearless. and it makes him scared, uncertain and lonely. again, the story itself is bare bones and i understand that - but it is so very beautiful to me thinking of him and tav or just his general romance.

as wylls romance partner, encouraging wyll to break his pact is as tragic as it very beautiful. tav is wylls one selfish thing. one of the only reasons that would move him to not give himself up. one of the only reasons he is okay with forgoing his beliefs. he loves tav enough to break his own oaths, and make choices for himself and no one else. not as the blade, or as a ravengard - but just as wyll.

and that aspect of him is in my opinion, enforced, by the mindflayer tav ending. in which wylls monster-hunting and morals are made exceptions with / for tav. my enjoyment of hero corruption might be speaking for me, but i digress.

in every way though - i truly love wyll as a character. and while im well aware of the critical flaws in his in game story state, i think it's both unfortunate and unfair that people call him boring. to me he is anything but

#aristotle.txt #wyll ravengard #bg3 #wyll meta #bg3 wyll #wyll x tav #he is so love of my life coded #this is my experience as a deku defending and lover speaking for me i fear

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khruschevshoe · 3 months

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How Behind-the Scenes Issues Affected the Writing of Doctor Who (Both Good and Bad)

Doctor Who is such a fascinating show to look at from a Watsonian v. Doylist perspective. Like, entirely just from an episode writing point of view:

Twice Upon A Time feels so slow and meandering and even boring in places because Chris Chibnall didn't want to start his run as showrunner and Steven Moffat didn't want the show to lose the coveted Christmas timeslot (ironic, I know) so he bumped the Twelfth Doctor's regeneration from the end of The Doctor Falls (where it makes sense) to the end of the Christmas special

Boom Town (my beloved) only exists because originally there was going to be an episode in its spot explaining that Rose had been molded to be the Doctor's perfect companion (by the Doctor, gross) and the writer didn't have the time to commit to the show

The ending of Last Christmas feels like one inside-a-dream too many because originally Jenna Coleman was questioning whether she was going to leave the show or not and the ending was rewritten after the first readthrough when she decided she wanted to stay for another season

The first five episodes of Season 7 feel like each one takes place in a different genre because that's literally how Steven Moffat pitched it to the writers; for example, A Town Called Mercy was literally pitched as "Doctor Who does a Western"

Not so much a weird one but one I find cool: Eleven's first words and Thirteen's first words were literally written by Moffat and Chibnall respectively, as they were brought in to write the first words of the first Doctors of their runs so as to make it cohesive

The reason why Fourteen isn't wearing Thirteen's clothes when he regenerates is because Jodie Whittaker is much shorter than David Tennant and Russell T. Davies didn't want it to look like he was making fun of the genderfluidity of the Doctor (still think he made the wrong decision, but eh)

Wilfred Mott isn't in the Runaway Bride and Donna's father isn't in Partners in Crime because the actor who played Donna's father, Howard Attfield, died after filming several scenes for Partners In Crime, leading to the character of "Stan Mott" from Voyage of the Damned being written into Partners In Crime as Donna's grandfather

Astrid Peth doesn't die in the original drafts of Voyage of the Damned, but Russell T. Davies wrote what is generally considered one of the most emotional deaths in Doctor Who just because he wanted Kylie Minogue to be able to focus on her music career

Originally Oxygen was written as a prequel to Mummy on the Orient Express, where a corporate representative appeared on a monitor. Said representative was fired for his fumbling of the station and would later live on as the company computer, Gus

During Season 11, Chris Chibnall had to do some major rewrites for many of the one-off episodes, therefore The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos ended up being a first draft that made it to screen. He later admitted it was his least favorite episode of the series

And this is only a fraction of what I found in terms of major behind-the-scenes writing reasons. Though I am still totally willing to critique the product that made it to our screens, finding out the reasons behind some of the more badly written episodes of the show really made me feel sympathy for every showrunner of the show as well as appreciate a lot of the good episodes that ended up here despite the short production schedule/unexpected problems (once again, Boom Town my beloved AND everyone's favorite companion Wilfred Mott only exist because of unforseen problems). Absolutely bonkers, isn't it?

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moon-rivr · 5 months

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Hi, would you be interested in writing a fic with Miguel and reader who doesn’t want to have kids? It’s ok if not 💖☺️

don’t let me go

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: brief mention of sex, mostly just fluff

author’s note: sorry if you wanted more smut 😭

word count: 1051

The discussion of having kids was a topic that you tried your best to avoid with Miguel since seeing how much longing he had towards having a kid made you feel guilty for not wanting the same thing with him. While most people drooled over the sight of your boyfriend having a child in his arms as he played with it, you didn't feel the same effects as they did. Comments of how good he'd be as a father, of how kind and protective he would be, along with comments critiquing you for not giving him a child yet circulated around constantly.

As much as you tried to avoid the subject, you could tell that you couldn't dance around it for much longer. The way that Miguel stared at your belly after he pumped you full of his cum, a part of him wishing that your birth control would fail and that his sperm would take. You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it just for his sake, but the concept of bringing a child into the world didn't illuminate your life as it did with others.

A loud banging on your door woke you up, sunlight barely starting to peek through the curtains when you got up. You let out a small groan as you trudged over to the door, being met with your sibling holding their baby in hand. "Hey, sorry that I'm bothering you this early but I was wondering if you'd watch Arabella. Her babysitter cancelled last minute and I don't have anywhere else to take her," they said, desperation evident in their eyes. Normally, you'd be willing to do anything for them but you were certain the baby had a vendetta against you.

"She doesn't like me, she doesn't stop crying after you leave her with me," you responded, a brief memory of the last time you babysat running through your head. "She was teething that time. Please? It's the last time I'll ask for a while, I swear," they answered and you decided to grab the baby from them, cradling it to the best of your ability. "Thank you, you're the best!"

You looked down at the sleeping baby before wrapping her up in a makeshift blanket burrito on the floor. You figured that you'd distract her from her parent's absence when she woke up, find something stupid for the two of you to do. But for now, you enjoyed the silence of the apartment and decided to watch some tv in order to pass the time.

A couple hours had passed and the baby had gotten up from her nap, tears rolling down her chubby cheeks as she wailed. You were in the process of trying to feed her some purée with peas in it, most of them ending up tossed in your hair or face. "Come on, what do you want from me? I changed you and I'm feeding you," you grumbled, looking over at the baby as you tried to get her to swallow the little bit on the spoon.

"Maybe you should try rocking her," you heard from behind you, seeing your boyfriend walk into the shared apartment. "You're home early," you noted, looking up for a moment before you felt the peas fling in your hair. "Could hear the wailing from HQ," he responded, picking up the baby as he cradled her in his arms. He comforted Arabella as he held her, rocking her back and forth as her tears faded away.

The three of you were sitting down on the couch watching cartoons while you waited for your sibling to get off from work, your head resting on Miguel's shoulder. He held the baby up in his lap, her eyes twinkling with excitement at the dogs showing up on the screen. You'd washed up the peas from your hair and now you were pretending to be asleep, just to avoid the conversation of having a baby as long as you could.

You eventually did fall asleep and when you woke up, the baby was gone and Miguel's hand was rubbing small circles on your thigh. "Hola bella durmiente. how was your nap?" he asked, looking over at you with a lazy smile. (hi, sleeping beauty) "It was good, how was work?" You responded, the two of you getting into an easy conversation after that. He divulged about the anomalies he had to capture today and you divulged on the stinky diaper you had to change today.

"I've been thinking about starting our own little family, actually. Seeing you with Arabella just made me realize that I think I'd like to pursue that with you, even if you don't think you'd be ready," he said after a while, your lips pursing a bit as you looked over at him. "Miguel, I need you to understand something before I tell you this. This isn't about you or my perception of you, okay?" You inquired, waiting for his approval to continue.

"I have no doubt about your fathership abilities but I just.. don't think a child would make me feel fulfilled. Trust me when I tell you that you're person I would imagine having a family with and i thought about doing that, just to see you smile the way you whenever you hold a baby. But the whole idea just doesn't make me happy or makes me thrilled," you told him, expecting him to try to change your mind or ask you if you didn't think he was good enough.

But he simply pulled you into a hug, comforting you with his embrace as he held you tightly. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was expecting that out of you. While the idea of a child does excite me, you're much more important than that idea. And I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't share this with me," he told you, his hand running down your back.

"And you're okay with not having a child?" You asked him, a bit surprised that he seemed to be taking this so well.

"Yeah, we can just fill up the house with cats or dogs, even geese if that's what you want. You're too important to me to get hung up over an idea."

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rthko · 4 months

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A pervasive logic I see in online queer discourse, or any online discourse really, is "let me select (or invent) an oppressed person who agrees with me and a privileged person who disagrees." This has been apparent in the "sex wars" of the past few years. By the miracle of liberal privilege discourse, the same gut-level revulsions shared by your parents and local politicians can now be reframed as radical critique. Sex is not only gross--it is a trivial issue that only "privileged cis white gays" would care about. Non-normative queer sexuality is in some circles now associated with white gay men with money to burn on travel, party tickets, designer drugs and personal trainers. This image is at most conditionally true. More precisely, it is a testament to the damage wrought by the policing of sexuality and who bears the brunt of it, resulting in their erasure from public life.

I recall in 2020, when no in-person pride events were even occurring, the internet was nevertheless ablaze with arguments about hypothetical gay men violating the eyes of hypothetical spectators with their displays of sexuality. An acquaintance of mine posted: "kink at pride is an example of cis white gays turning what used to be a protest into a party." It's not untrue that many tap into only the fun sides of queerness while ignoring the political. However, this stance that pleasure seekers and rabble-rousers are ruining it for the serious activists comes across more as "Mattachine" than it does "Stonewall." Frankly, I find it more concerning that pride has become an advertising campaign. Despite the identity politics and the framing of "punching up," we know in hindsight that this line of thinking inevitably led to the further persecution of trans people, whose very existence is considered fetishistic. This is a reality that online queers need to grapple with: sometimes punching up trickles down.

Sex discourse was never just about moral "policing" but literal policing, with material consequences. One reason that these conversations have been especially rotten in the past few years is that sex workers have been systemically driven off of the internet and out of public life. No wonder young queers whose only exposure to overt queer sexuality is through this internet may think only "privileged" people participate in it; nothing in their personal lives or real life queer community (if they have one) contradicts this myth. But it is frustrating, to say the least, to see many adopt a self-styled radicalism that is functionally indistinguishable from a gay middle class politics of respectability. As long as the foil of the "bitchy circuit queen" exists, they are more than willing to accept the sex worker or the homeless park cruiser as collateral damage in their crusade against sex. Even before Elon Musk's takeover of Twitter, that app performed a near-daily collective ritual of "can't look away" revulsion at some instance of queer sexuality. Probably still does. Any pretense of "calling out privilege" was set dressing.

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cu7ie · 10 months

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𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝. | kaveh, al haitham

˚✦ ៸៸ ₊˚ cw: HARD NON-CON. fear, manhandling. no penetrative sex. oral (pussy-licking). hybrid!kaveh and al haitham. my first time writing for GI. yandere themes. trusting reader. reader has a vagina. reader is referred to as an 'it' (by Al Haitham) and 'they' (Kaveh). forgive me for ooc-ness. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

˚✦ ៸៸ ₊˚ an: @187-mg i told you about this and i was just like fuck it let me uhhh write it first! listen at first this was a fun horny moment then i got too analytical i need critique 💀 i kinda love it though

You happen upon these wolves, who don't seem interested in you at first pass. You're just a passerby looking to spend time with your grandma, a little ways off in the woods, nothing terribly interesting to the likes of them,

but then they start trailing slowly behind

asking more questions (Kaveh), demanding answers (Al Haitham).

They are talking among themselves in whispers you can t discern, too busy making sure the soup inside your basket doesn't spill and that mud doesn't clump up on your nice shoes !

It's getting dark quicker than you thought it would though.

And you don't think you're anywhere near your grandmother's house (Kaveh, so gracious to offer help with directions) and when you think to call their names, you turn around and

You see the moonlight reflected in their eyes. They look solid. Alhaitham has extended to his full height, and only in the absence of light does it feel ominous.

Kaveh's warm smile has faded away in the dark, but you can see the glint of Al Haitham's fangs and -

What's going on? The wind howls faintly and you clam up all the sudden, sweaty palms clasping tightly on your wicker basket as your boot squishes in mud.

"Ah… Well, thank- uh- thank you sirs. I think I can find my own way… now." And you immediately dart off into the woods. Your basket clinks a little noisily, and you're already impossible to miss because whatever's in there smells so good.

Not as good as you though, Al Haitham is sure to point out to Kaveh, so maybe that's why when you dart off, Al Haitham is already at your heels.

Kaveh was trying to tell him to be patient. Humans are afraid of things like thunder, sudden snapping twigs, so he can just imagine your reaction to hulking behemoths such as them, able to break you with the flick of a wrist-

"But that's what we're going to do. Break them. So I don't see why we should pretend we won't." Kaveh's ears flattened against his head and he didn't speak on it further, watching Alhaitham size you up in anticipation of your escape

and when you do, Alhaitham's just a blur on the edge of Kaveh's vision.

Kaveh is quicker to follow. You're yelling out his name in desperate fear, and he catches the tail end of Alhaitham flipping your skirt up and clawing your panties off, grazing your flesh and getting taken over by your delicious terror. The tip of his claw etches a reminder into your thigh, tears dripping down the side of your face.

Your basket is tossed on its side, contents carelessly spilled along the forest floor.

Your struggle renews somewhat as Kaveh comes close enough for you to see - he's behind Al haitham’s mass so for a second you don't - and you cry out for help again.

Kaveh has his own qualms about this - you're terrified and he's tired of feeling like a monster - but Al haitham operating on animal impulse makes him feel a distinct shame as well as a trickle of jealousy

Kaveh was willing to wait. He's known of you for longer, made it a habit to see you around the woods, tending to your garden, humming along with songbirds, your bubble of reality utterly endearing. He mentioned it once. Let it slip to Al Haitham. Telling him was a distinct inevitability. Also the biggest mistake of his life.

And he couldn’t have expected Al Haitham to take to you at all - what with his inclination to contentedness, Kaveh imagined you’d be a blip on his radar.

But he ends up just as taken by you. He starts asking for what Kaveh knows; and when that well of information goes dry, he makes plans to go straight to its source.

Not to say Kaveh didn't intend to - but there's the way humans do things and the way they do things. A right and wrong. Mating rituals dictate that upon breeding, a bond has been made. Bonds further strengthened by a mark.

Humans court, and give gifts, and have long talks, spend time together ...

Kaveh was willing to try. Al Haitham is too stubborn.

Al Haitham doesn’t understand pretending to be something he is not. Human tradition is just meandering fluff.

He'll breed you so good you'll never think about anything else. If Kaveh wants out, so be it.

But he can't leave you there, begging and pleading and crying for him as the head of Al Haitham’s cock prods at your folds. You're so small. Al Haitham might kill you if he's not careful - and then what? Kaveh steps forward again,

"Al Haitham. Don't be so rough, you're scaring them." Hunched over you like a vulture over carrion, Al Haitham eyes Kaveh, furiously ablaze and downright feral. "Don't tell me what to do. You’re anxious to act, and stall when opportunity reveals itself.

“If you don’t want any-” “No!”

Kaveh’s snarl doesn’t intimidate Al Haitham, but maybe the fangs poised at his neck make him hesitate. The gap between them is closed in but a moment, and Al Haitham jerks his head upwards to dislodge his friend’s grip in one firm shake. He is unsuccessful.

Kaveh’s intervention only seemed to exacerbate Al Haitham’s irritation, before his expression wanes into something more reasonable. Less blood lusty and more level headed, eyes darting off to something more pressing.

"Kaveh." Al Haitham huffs, relatively calmer as Kaveh withdraws from his neck.

"It’s getting away."

You might have twisted your ankle when Al Haitham tackled you to the floor but you're able to make some distance when they squabble, desperately clawing bald patches of grass and getting dirt under your nails.

they are much faster, and they can make up proper after they figure out what to do with you.

"They're so small..." Kaveh chimes, his pupils dilated as his expression seems to glow.

They talk about you as if you're not right in front of them, trembling and terrified.

"Is that a problem? I thought you liked it tight."

Kaveh shoots him an irritated glare. "Al Haitham. Please." You're crying again.

"You have a nice mouth." When he's not being utterly insufferable. "Maybe show them what that's like?"

Al Haitham snorts like Kaveh’s said something funny. "I'm serious! Let's just do it right this time, okay?"

He blinks once at Kaveh, looking down at where he has your legs spread, moves his clawed hands slowly. Al Haitham huffs harshly, looking down at you with those predator eyes, like you offended his senses.

"Ass up, pup." His tail thumps against the floor, betraying the anger writ over his face. "P-please no! I -"

Whenever you don't move as fast as he wants you to, Al Haitham moves for you. You learn that quick as he flips you over, your tear streaked face now looking at the other, 'kinder' wolf. Kaveh is the worst.

He's trying to make it easier for you, yes. He cradles your face in his clawed hands and coos at you about how beautiful he thinks you are, and how Al Haitham’s not that bad once you get to meet him,

he's paying careful attention to every dip and divot, the taste of your cunt and clit, slow sensuality degrading into frantic wet slurping.

Then he stops suddenly. You feel pin-pricks dig into the flesh of your ass as he spreads it with his thumbs, your dripping cunt throbbing in anticipation, your heart pounding out of your chest.

Kaveh rolls your soft face in his hands, can feel your skin burn hot with every moan or whine Al Haitham urges out of you. You seem embarrassed. He finds human shame so .. intriguing. He licks some of the tears off your cheek.

He mulls you over, the salt seeming sweet on his tongue.

"I think..." He makes a noise of surprise as you grab at his wrists tighter, pleading with your eyes for them to let you go.

"I think they're ready."

#al haitham #kaveh #al haitham x reader #kaveh x reader #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #yandere al haitham #genshin impact smut #kaveh smut #al haitham smut #🌩️ L1GHTN1NG_STRIKE5.pdf

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pianokantzart · 1 month

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Some of the concept art and deleted scenes for the SMB 2023 movie has me wondering if Luigi was originally gonna be the more confident one. In the concept art, Mario looks tired/dejected a lot of the time, there was a pic of them in the van with a "Luigi Bros" logo while Luigi had his feet up on the dash all smiley, and then the deleted scene when the pipe breaks and Mario's sad and suggests that they give up and go home... it makes me wonder if Luigi was gonna be more optimistic while Mario was more prone to feeling discouraged. I wonder what the reason for this change would have been.

I think it was to keep the relationship between the bros simple while hammering home Mario's sense of responsibility for his brother.

If we started out with Luigi being the confident one who fronted the plumbing business, then the story would have to tackle why Luigi is able thrive in Brooklyn as opposed to his brother. Then there'd be the question of why Luigi would be so willing to move to The Mushroom Kingdom in the movie's aftermath if he was doing so well before. If Mario has a leadership role from the beginning there's less to untangle, but despite this change there's still a vague sense of Luigi being the upbeat one compared to his brother. Luigi was the most optimistic about their commercial, the most vocal in his excitement for their first client, and the one most able to ignore the critiques of their family.

Mario, in the meantime, has all the gumption and determination one would expect from a future hero, but at the same time he bears a greater sense of responsibility. This is best exemplified in the way he acts at the dinner table, where Mario is visibly exhausted while Luigi feels free to shut his brain off and just focus on the food.

So I'd say we didn't stray that far from the "Luigi is confident while Mario's dejected" theme present in the concept art, but the dynamic shift of them going from "The Luigi Bros." to "The Mario Bros." would've been a bit too much.

#askbox #anon #honestly I like it this way #Luigi idolizing his bro and wanting to follow in his footsteps definitely better aligns with the games anyways #Mario Movie #Super Mario Bros #Super Mario brothers #Mario #Luigi #Mario headcanons #Mario analysis

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nikkotinamide · 6 months

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my observations and take on some nuances not conveyed in translation

to cope while waiting for Tuesday, I've been rewatching Ai Di scenes and noticed some things! this is my drawn out summary

*Disclaimer: I'm not critiquing existing translations, I think the translators have done a phenomenal job! Just wanted to add my 2 cents worth.

Part 2

Language Use in Kiseki

Ep 2

Here I realised, Chen Yi was the one who first said these lines to Ai Di, before Ai Di repeated them to Chen Yi in Ep 12. And the wording is exactly the same...sighs...these two

Ep 3

I died. After Chen YI delivered his line "我不找你，你就不会跟喔" - "Like as if you wouldn't have tagged along if I didn't find you", Ai Di actually mouthed "我就不会跟" - "I wouldn't have come". Given his facial expressions mocking Chen Yi's brooding face, I think he was being snarky and just parroting Chen Yi 😭

Chen Dong Yang asked them "当回总堂是回娘家" - basically asking them if they take HQ to be their maiden home. 回娘家 doesn't really have any deep meaning (except returning to your maiden home), but chinese/taiwanese dramas usually have female characters use this term when they are being bullied by their husband's family...make of it what you will...

Furthermore, before this he asked them to "叫老爸" (call me dad) when they called him 老大 (boss) and he kept making excuses for them in front of Zhou Ming Lei.

CDY really sees himself as their papa...

Ai Di calls Chen Yi "竖子". Coward fits the context but more directly, it is a derogatory way of calling someone a brat. Chen Yi gets upset because a punk younger than himself is being rude, and I think he got Ai Di's hidden barb - a reminder that Chen Yi is but a kid, especially in CDY's eyes, and how CDY will never see him as a man.

Ai Di makes a double entendre. He says "他会变老，你会长大。长大。" - "He'll grow old, you'll grow up. Grow big." 长大 in mandarin usually means growing up but can also mean /ahem/ growing big. To let Chen Yi know he's thinking dirty, Ai Di purposely looks down in the vicinity of Chen Yi's crotch and smirks.

Ai Di continues provoking Chen Yi, calling him 大哥哥 mockingly. Big bro is a correct translation but doesn't convey Ai Di's feelings. Here he's ironically calling Chen Yi the mandarin equivalent of onii-chan.

Our boy is a big ball of hurt and only knows how to express it through antagonising Chen Yi 🥲

Ep 4

Sighs. I really believe Zong Yi has a profound impact on Ai Di. Zong Yi is the one who told Ai Di that birthdays should be shared with people you like, and Ai Di took it to heart! He repeated this to Chen Yi in Ep 12.

Chen Yi I love you but I wanna smack you. Here he is speaking to CDY and in reference to their birthday, he uses "我的" (my), before adding on "还有艾迪" (and also Ai Di's), instead of using “我们的" (ours). Boy here really wants to be special in papa's eyes...

The translation is correct but the emphasis is lost. 那么 - so much. Ze Rui is asking Ai Di why he likes Chen Yi so much. Ai Di's dejection must have been so palpable Ze Rui felt he had to ask Ai Di just why Chen Yi was so good that Ai Di has to subject himself to so much pain.

Time for some Chen Yi redemption. Ai Di explains why. Again, translations are okay but nuances are lost. Chen Yi is the one who found Ai Di when he was so ill he was on the brink of death. Chen Yi is the one who cares for him the most (alt. gets in his business the most), the one who scolds him the most. And Chen Yi is also the one who looks after him the most.

替他 - substitute for him. Chen Yi really is Ai Di's everything so much so that he is willing to die on behalf of Chen Yi. There is a fine nuance between dying for (为他去死) vs dying on behalf (替他去死). I can't put it into words well but to me, I would say the former means there is an intentionality in following your fate, while the latter means there is an active choice in exchanging your fate for someone else's.

this post is getting too long, continued in Part 2

#kiseki: dear to me #chen ai #chen yi x ai di #ai di x chen yi #ai di #ramblings #they are making me feral

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cozage · 1 year

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Hi I reallllly love the way you wrote the reader with healing powers and I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer of continuing it?✨💖

A/N: A sweet (and lil angsty) HC list for how they’d react to your powers after initially finding out about them

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace

Cw: Ace and Law’s hold a lot of angst. All of them are a little angsty but Ace and Law have a significant amount.

Total word count: 1.3k

First part :)

The Pain of Healing Part 2

Zoro

Zoro isn’t the kind of guy to tell you what you can and can’t do. His lover isn’t weak, and he knows that you know your limits, so he never stops you. But he does keep a close eye on you, especially during battles.

He’s probably one of the few people who actually understand your pain and your sacrifice, and he understands what an insult it would be to ask you to stop doing that.

You all do have a mutual understanding though: he won’t stop you, and you won’t heal him. Your secret is safe for him, as long as you don’t use it on him.

He cares for you in small, quiet ways. He massages your sore muscles after a hard healing, and cuddles you extra close on the tough nights.

Whenever he sees a crewmember feeling particularly good after a fight, he wanders off to find you. He always picks you up without another word and carries you back to the ship, letting you sleep. He’ll tuck you into bed and leave you to sleep the pain away. He might crawl into bed with you, but you usually sleep better without him in moments like this.

He’s proud of you and what you’re willing to do for the crew, but a small piece of him is afraid that one day you’ll do too much, or something bad will happen to you because you went too far.

Sanji

Sanji has to bite his tongue when he sees you using your powers.

You agree to his request not to heal him anymore, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes his wounds aren’t healing quickly without you. But when he notices other crew members wounds healing quickly, he gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

“My love?” he finally asks one day. “Do you heal others the way you used to heal me?”

“Sometimes,” you say. “When they need it, or whenever I can help.”

He hates that. He hates that you're being hurt, but he knows it’s not his place to critique your decisions, so he bites his tongue and he massages your body and after you’ve fallen asleep, he holds you and he cries for your pain, wishing he could take your pain away just like you can to others.

He doesn’t stop you though, or tell you that he thinks it’s a bad idea. You can see it in his body language whenever you talk about it, but both of you ignore it.

Luffy

Luffy doesn’t ask for healings anymore, but he never turns you down when you ask him.

When you find little cuts and bruises along his body, you ask him if you can heal it. He always gives you a wide smile and nods, fascinated by how your powers work.

He also knows it's a form of love you give him, and that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He honestly doesn’t think too much of him “causing you pain”, even though nobody else on the crew will let you help them. Luffy knows you wouldn’t offer if you didn’t want to do it. He doesn’t ask for healing, but if you’re offering then he doesn’t mind saying yes.

The only time he will turn you down is when he’s in a battle and he knows how badly he’s wounded. He always claims he wants to beat the enemy on his own merit, but really he’s afraid of how much you’ll be hurting at his expense.

He’ll turn down your requests for a few days after battle, waiting for his bruising to go down and his cuts to start healing before he accepts your help. He only wants you to help with the little things, he doesn’t want to cause you actual pain.

Law

He waits for you to recover before he brings up your powers again. When you’re finally feeling okay enough to sit up, he pulls up a stool and puts his best “I’m-Your-Doctor-Not-Your-Boyfriend” face on.

“I don’t want you doing that again,” he said sternly. “Ever.”

“That’s not your call to make, Law,” you say sternly back.

He sighed, knowing what was coming. And it did. You all snapped at each other, arguing back and forth. Both of you were stubborn, and neither of you would yield in your stance.

Finally, after an hour of arguing, you lay back on the bed and turn away from him. You’re tired of fighting and tired of sitting up for so long.

“I just need you safe,” he said. “You’re going to overdo it and hurt yourself one day, and I can't-” his voice breaks, and you feel the guilt of making him hurt.

You turn back over to face him, trying to offer a compromise. “I’ll only do it when it’s necessary, okay?”

He nods at that, seeming to contemplate your offer. “And when I’m around,” he added.

“Law,” you warn. You know that's not a fair compromise, and so does he.

“Fine. Only when it’s necessary.” He doesn’t like it, and neither do you, but it’s the best you’re going to get.

He scowls when he sees you using it or when he sees your body weakened by the aftermath of it, but he never complains or argues. He has to admit, you do well to hold true to your end of the promise, so he never pesters you about it anymore.

Your powers just kind of acts as this thing neither of you are super thrilled about, but you tolerate for the other person. It’s better not to acknowledge it, even if he is really curious on how it all works

Ace

You and Ace fight over this topic. A lot. The first time was when Marco came to you, letting you know that Ace had talked to him about your powers.

You stormed off to find him, and a major fight ensued. Ace didn’t want you to be hurting yourself for other people’s mistakes, and you wanted to help people whenever you could.

It’s a tense topic of conversation, something you all just choose to avoid discussing after a while, because every time it inevitably leads to a fight.

Ace didn’t tell people, but he did ask your division commander to keep an eye on you in battle. “She’s been acting a little rash,” he’d say. “I’m worried about her.” Your commander came to ask you if you were okay, worried about your mental health. You had no idea what he was talking about, and he told you about Ace’s concern. That caused a pretty big fight.

He even went so far as to ask Whitebeard to have you transferred to his division so he could keep an eye on you. Whitebeard denied it, and asked you if you were having trouble in your current division. That caused another big fight.

You know he just wants to keep you safe, and that his intentions are good, but it still enrages you that he doesn’t want you helping out when you can. It enrages you even more that he’s meddling so much in your life.

Finally one night he breaks down, holding you tight against his chest. “I can’t lose you,” he sobs into your hair. Your heart hurts hearing him cry. You wished that the two of you could come to an understanding with each other.

“You won’t,” you whisper into his chest, tears springing up. You believed in yourself, you just wanted him to believe in you too.

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topgun-imagines · 1 year

Text

Nothing to Lose

Requested: no

Summary: The real reason behind why Jake Seresin’s flying is so reckless.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of car crashes, death, child loss.

Note: I apologize in advance.

Parings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Wife!reader

It was amazing how fast rumors could spread at Top Gun. People were constantly gossiping about who did what, who had a drink with who. A common one was who slept with who. That one seemed to be the topic of right now. Many pilots and WSO’s could be found in the Hard Deck discussing this particular topic, eyes darting around the room as they watched people leave. But, as usual, the pilots and WSO’s of Top Gun ran out of rumors to spread. When they were especially bored, they would turn to people’s flying, critiquing their skill and ability until they inevitably gave up on that too. There was still one incredible rumor floating around Top Gun. It had yet to be answered but there seemed to be new theories every day.

Why was Jake Seresin’s flying so reckless?

The answer was simple. While no one knew it, everyone speculated. He had a mission go sideways overseas, he was overly cocky, he was flying against the ghost of the man his father wanted him to be; the ideas seemed to get crazier with every passing day. Regardless of how many theories there were, no one would ever get it right. Jake kept that secret closely guarded. No one else knew about it. And if Jake had it his way, no one would ever find out.

He was sitting at the bar, listening to people gossip all around him. The pilot had been called to Top gun a few weeks ago. He practically jumped at the chance to escape his old town. Austin was full of too many bad memories. Jake had never been close to anyone, and coming to Top Gun as the only member of his squadron seemed to prove that to him.

Just as he was about to pay his tab, a man approached him. “Hangman,” The man started, staring down at the blond with a small smirk. “I’m Coyote. Nice to officially meet you,” Jake bit his tongue before forcing a smile. He had seen the man in class the day before; he seemed like the kind of man that was easy to make friends with. Which was exactly what Jake didn’t need right now. Jake slid his card over to Penny. He couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters. “Me and my friend have a little wager,” The taller man nodded back toward a black-haired woman that was sitting by the dart board. Jake raised a single eyebrow, not really caring where this conversation was going. “She says that you have a girlfriend. I said no way in hell.” The blond pilot sucked in a sharp breath.

Without responding to the man, Jake plucked his card out of Penny’s hand and turned around. He left the bar, leaving the man standing behind him. “What the hell man?” Coyote called out. With a shake of his head, he made his way back to the table. He wasn’t going to let some blond pilot ruin his night with Natasha.

The truck was silent as Jake drove to his quarters. He had shut off the radio the second he climbed into the beat-up truck. The window was rolled down, fresh air streaming into the truck as he sped down the highway. Honestly, he was shocked at the fact that the man’s statement had affected him as much as it did. Jake spent the rest of the ride with his head in the clouds, mind drifting back to a past that he thought he had left behind.

He pulled into the driveway of his temporary housing. To him, it was far from a home. The headlight flashed against dark windows, briefly displaying the emptiness inside of the house. Jake killed the engine. He sat in the truck for a few minutes, willing himself to forget everything that had just rushed back to the surface. Everything that he had tried so hard to push down. With a final shaky breath, he hopped out of the car and headed into the house.

Flicking the lights on, he slipped out of his shoes. The pilot moved through the house slowly, eventually winding up in the bathroom. The reflection that stared back at him was blank, barely showing any hint of emotion whatsoever. He pulled his T-shirt over his head quickly, discarding it into the growing pile of dirty laundry by the door. When his eyes landed on his dog tags his breath hitched. The rings that dangled from it taunted him, mocked him for why they were hanging there. His eyes drifted down to his own ring finger, finding the shiny gold band glinting back at him.

Jake cleared his throat and finished getting ready. He brushed his teeth quickly, attempting to ignore everything that he was feeling. Memories attached to those rings couldn’t help but rush to the surface. When he was done Jake climbed into bed and let his eyes slip shut, willing his mind to allow him one night of peaceful sleep. But after today’s events, he knew that that was unlikely.

Jake awoke with a start. For almost a year now his dreams had been plagued with memories from that day. He checked the time. 5am. That was longer than he usually lasted. Even though he hadn’t been there to witness it, the horrid image from the hospital was enough to fill his mind with pictures of what could have happened. With a sigh, the blond hopped out of bed. He flicked on the bedside lamp as he began to get ready for his day.

First, he made a coffee for himself. It had the perfect amount of creamer. Just how you used to make it. Then he practically chugged the drink, inhaling sharply as pictures of her flooded his mind. He pulled a random T-shirt over his head before slipping on his leggings. A quick run by the beach should do him some good. He didn’t bother locking the house as he exited. It’s not like there was much inside that he valued anyways.

The air was crisp as he began his run. At this time of the morning the sun was barely above the horizon, only a small sliver of light peaking up over the sea. The house that he had been given was right on the beach. Wind that blew in from the sea helped clear his head. He kept running, mind moving faster than he ever thought was possible. You were the light of his life. Until one faithful day that was all taken from him. Jake ran faster. Maybe if he focused on the pounding of his heart the pain would disappear.

Before he even realized it he was back in front of his door. The pilot heaved a sigh and headed inside. The house was still dark when he slipped into the shower. After a quick rinse he was pulling on his service khakis and hopping in the truck. The drive to base was around 20 minutes. Jake kept the radio off as he drove. When he finally pulled into the parking lot the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. There was only one other car in the student section.

Jake walked through the long hallways before stepping into the classroom they were scheduled to be in today. Inside, he found the man and woman from the night before sitting next to each other. They were laughing quietly together, the woman’s hand resting on his arm. The second he walked into the room the pair quieted down. When Jake took his seat near the back of the room the man, Coyote, if he remembered correctly, approached him and slid into the chair next to him. He paid the man no mind, opening his journal and beginning to take down a few notes that he missed from the day before. “Hangman,” Coyote started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Nice to see you again.” The blond pilot simply scoffed quietly.

This man seemed to love getting on Jake’s nerves. “What do you want?” Jake didn’t bother looking up at him. When the man beside him didn’t respond Jake’s eyes cut up to him. He raised a single eyebrow Jake sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Can I help you with something?” That seemed to snap the man out of his daydream. Jake’s breath caught when he saw that the man’s eyes were trained on his wedding band.

“About last night,” Jake could have punched his lights out over that sentence alone. Coyote could sense the man’s discomfort. “Look, I’m sorry,” He started. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He watched as the woman at the front of the classroom stood up from her seat. Checking the clock out of the corner of his eye he saw that they had around 30 minutes before class started. Why would she be leaving now? Before she left the room she leaned down next to Coyote and whispered something in his ear. He responded with a soft smile. He turned back to Jake before continuing. “I really didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Jake watched him curiously. “It’s fine,” he dismissed. When the man didn’t move from his spot Jake came to realize something. Coyote wasn’t just apologizing, he was waiting for Jake to answer his question from last night. Instead of answering directly, he responded with one of his own. “How much did you put on this bet?” He could see Coyote’s mouth drop from the corner of his eye.

He stuttered slightly. Eventually, he cleared his throat and responded. There was a small smirk on his face as he spoke. “A significant sum.” Jake could hear the confidence oozing from his voice.

Nodding his head, Jake finished what he was writing before shutting his notebook. “You lost,” His voice was sharp and clipped. Coyote opened his mouth as if he was going to apologize when Jake cut him off. “You wanna know the truth?” He honestly didn’t know why he was going to tell this complete stranger one of his deepest secrets but something in his gut told him he could trust him. Coyote couldn’t help but nod softly. “I had a wife, and a child. And one day, just because some truck driver couldn’t keep his hands off his phone for 30 seconds I lost both of them.” Coyote instantly regretted ever asking in the first place. It was apparent to him now more than ever that this was not his place.

“She was on her way to the hospital,” Jake continued. “I was out of town, running a few errands and I was supposed to meet her there,” Jake’s eyes became watery. This was the first time that he had opened up about what happened to you. “She was going to have our baby,” A single tear trailed down his cheek. Jake wiped it away quickly. The man beside him continued to listen in silence. He could tell that Jake needed someone to talk to. “The truck came out of nowhere. It was speeding through the intersection and didn’t stop in time,” The blond's eyes drifted down to his wedding band. “I never got to see her or our baby again.”

Coyote could tell that Jake was finished with his story. All the teasing that he and Nat had been doing over the past few days suddenly made him want to vomit. He had made a game of a man’s personal life. He had made a game out of a man’s wife and child that had died in a horrible accident. Who does that? “I’m so sorry, man,” His voice was gentle, trying to soothe and not piss off the aviator in front of him. “I didn’t know.” Jake just nodded in response, wiping the remaining tears from his lashes.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The pair had agreed to start over, Coyote deciding that maybe Jake wasn’t as bad as he seemed. Eventually Jake opened up more to Coyote, filling him in on personal details that no one else knew about him.

And now Coyote knew why Jake’s flying was so reckless. It wasn’t because he was cocky, or because he had a mission go sideways. It wasn’t even because he was flying against someone he would never be. Finally, someone had the real answer to the age-old rumour. And it wasn’t nearly close to anything that had been speculated. People would still gossip, but for now only one person knew the truth. The reason that Jake Seresin flew so recklessly, was because he had no reason not to. It was because, for nearly a year now, Jake Seresin had nothing to lose.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

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learnthebreakdown · 1 month

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I made this post about how moved I am yr addressed racism with Felice/Simon. It prompted me ponder issues about this fandom (starting how the nonwhite characters are treated in this fandom, and if people would sympathize with Wille as much if he was black instead of white, for example. But then it spiraled into other things as well) I've never had the courage to post about before, but yr gave me courage lmao (putting a disclaimer that I don't hate any of the characters as people...actually I adore most of them...except August). This season showed how ingrained racism is, it exists in so many "invisible" ways, where people can act as if it's not real since it makes them uncomfortable to deal with their own hidden biases, or worse, because they think their biases are actually justified. I've seen some mentions about how the audience of this show reflects the exact prejudices the show claims to criticize.

There's a notable pattern where even minor rich kid characters receive disproportionate sympathy/recognition and others face unwarranted criticism, reflecting societal biases and how we are conditioned. While tumblr has been better this season especially with time, tumblr (and esp other social media) sites often have much more sympathy for Wille over Simon, for example. Simon across sites gets a lot of undue downright vile comments from the fandom, or is just disregarded more. Part of this could be because Wille is the main character, and Simon's perspective was not shown super well in season 2, but Simon/Omar often get a lot of comments that aren't unsimilar to the racist and vile comments we saw Simon get in the show. It made me wonder- if Wille had not been white, if he had been black, would people still have found as much sympathy for him during his angry outbursts? How strange that many people seem to find sympathy for Wille and even August, but not for Simon, even though if we are being realistic...Simon is an equally complex character that has not done many bad things? How interesting that people barely discuss Felice's storyline, but there are people that gag over the rich white kids, stederika and henry/walter (especially after Felice's storyline this season, and when we have Rosh as a canon sapphic lower class girl). How wild that the girls' storylines- Felice and Sara's- are disregarded? People often act like Wille and Simon have gotten the same amount of hate, but if you've been in this fandom long enough and seen the overall situation, I think people know that Wille is favored over Simon overall, and the hate/disregard they get is not equivalent, especially considering Simon is the second lead.

I'm not saying all of this is due to prejudice, or that everyone who has ever done these things is an awful person, it's more just an observation that if we are honest with ourselves, hidden biases certainly play a role in ALL of our thoughts/behaviors. Even for those who may not actively engage in it, do we enable it? And with a show like Young Royals that is attempting to (not always succeeding, but an attempt was made this season) to critique these social structures of racism and classism, wouldn't it be nice if, as we go into this final episode, we look inwards and see what biases we may carry that affect our perception of this show, and more importantly, real life? Life imitates art, after all.

#young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #felice ehrecrona #prince wilhelm #stederika #just some thoughts I'm not trying to start a fire here #just thought it would be cool if we think about some of the issues the show brought to the forefront #sara eriksson #damn I mentioned so many characters didn't I

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sincerelystesichorus · 1 month

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me becoming a gortash apologist apparently

i never thought i'd say this. i am thinking about Enver Gortash. i'm usually not one of his apologists but... i've had brain rot for my Durge lately, and i think a big moment of developing your Durge is how you react to meeting Gortash again, yeah? you may or may not be close with Karlach but the party and Durge especially have all faced similar trauma of betrayal and exploitation nonetheless (and so has Gortash), he's already been introduced vaguely at the end of Act 2 as a threat/main villain, he worships Bane, he has general edge lord vibes (remember that bit where I'm usually not a Gortash apologist djdjdjd); what i'm trying to spit out, is there's a lot to sway you against Gortash in that first meeting. and I'd argue even a little further, as someone that followed Orin's plans of betrayal against him in my first Tav run, (just because her audacity is so damn funny.)

But anyway. Meeting Gortash. Finding out you used to be close. Perhaps homoerotically, perhaps in a strange platonic manner, or some other third thing, but nonetheless, Durge is assumably the only person Gortash has ever truly liked. He just really goes out of his way with praise at meeting again, the use of the word favorite is notable, and if Gortash had anyone worth elevating, he would, right? That was how Ketheric got here, Orin wants more credibility for herself and the Bhaalists, and Gortash... just enslaves his parents in their old home/business. But he liked you. He's really so similar to Astarion (it's nothing, you're just the only person I've ever truly cared for); he's just already a touch too far gone in his power hungry search for security. He's already repeated the cycle, years and years ago with Karlach as the main example and just the inevitability of being Bane's Chosen. And yet - Durge comes marching through the door again with this band of misfits and his old lackey he wronged, and he's willing to make a true bargain.

And I know it's just in Gortash's character to scheme, but l think playing as reformed Durge makes Gortash's potential deal all the more devastating, since he will truly follow through on his word (or, at least he would.)

It's so funny to show up dating Astarion or Shadowheart, and imagine them teasing you later that night, saying they thought you'd have better taste. Or the bitterness of being with Karlach, knowing that you seemed to be in such deep kahoots. And so on. The point is not valuing that past relationship with Gortash. Focusing on the shiny and new.

And like whatever. Gortash isn't ever going to publicly present that his feelings are hurt but like... wouldn't they? Your past lover or at the very least, only close friend struts in, now thinking they're some big shot, so beyond everything you two had ever done... when you always lived in their shadow beforehand, frankly. Gortash adores how this flawless plan was majorly Durge's, critiques Orin's sloppy manner of filling your place, how Ketheric was just a means to an end. But he liked you. The person who helped him raid Mephistopheles' vault, in turn helping him spit not only in the arch devil's face, but his past captor, Raphael's too (since Raph lives chronically in the shadow of his father, imo.) The person who thought they could formulate and enact this whole plot, and the only one he was willing to follow, to be an equal with, now coming to tell him what everyone always does, inevitably.

A final fuck you, or some form of betrayal, the same thing that caused his mess all those years ago when sold off to that warlock.

It would have to hurt, and while it's funny to imagine my little gnome Durge dying inside and cackling to the party about sleeping with an enemy and technically being the enemy... a little obssessed at the angst you could perceive of Gortash somehow falling for any crazy Bhaalspawn, nonetheless Durge, who was never one for morals, coming back renewed and not to come get him or work things out... but to slay him or turn against him. I'd send the Steelwatchers after our asses too.

In conclusion, Gortash, probably:

sigh. my bias against greasy little guys could never truly make me hate you, enver gortash. look at you, the man that you are.

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