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a-kind-of-merry-war · 4 months ago

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will you please give us examples of resources to look at if we want to learn more about the concept of gender and maybe even transness in Medieval Europe? thanks!

whooooo boy right, there's a lot! I wanna start this by saying that I am very much not an expert, and I only have access to stuff I can find for free and the handful of books I can afford to buy second hand. Most of my research has been around gender as it relates to transness and GNC people. I am absolutely missing stuff, or have forgotten stuff, or simply lack the know-how to find stuff.

There's a few bits I've got on a TBR but haven't read yet - some I've included and some I haven't, depending on the source and how established it is.

Also: this is medieval Europe. The way pronouns are used to describe people don't really align with modern views of sex and gender. Also be aware of old-fashioned language use (for example, some texts talk about "hermaphrodites"). Remember that the way we talk about gender and trans identities is far different to how we even spoke about it 20 years ago.

So with that out of the way... I am chucking this under a read more, because it's long:

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GENDER

Medieval ideas around gender were different to how we now think about it. The Hippocratic view of gender saw gender as a sort of wet/dry, cold/hot spectrum upon which men were at one end and women the other (and in the middle were intersex people). The male body was seen as hot and dry, and the female as cold and wet. The cold, wetness is what made women try to seek out heat from guys. A lot comes down to humors rather than genitals - if you're hot and dry, that innately means you grow a penis, because the heat sorta forces it out. So the marker is that penis = man, but you only have that penis in the first place because of your hot, dry humor.

Some people believed the vagina was an inverted penis - as in, the penis turned outside in. Some schools of thought believed that both men and women produced "seed", and that both were needed for conception. These thoughts and ideas shifted around a lot.

The Hippocratic view shifted towards Aristotelian ideas around the 12th Century, where the male/female divide was a lot stronger. There were also surgeons throughout all these periods who sought to "correct" intersex genitalia with surgery (how little things change).

This podcast (I've linked to a transcript, because I have more time to read than listen to things) with Dr Eleanor Janega is super interesting. In fact, I'd recommend reading her whole blog, which is fascinating. She also has a book out (but I've not read it so I can't give a yay or nay on that one)

The Meanings of Sex Difference in the Middle Ages by Joan Cadden seems to be a good source on this, but I've not read it so I can't vouch for it 100%.

I've listed below some real people who could fit into our modern interpretation of transness, and the fact that all of these people were only "outed" when arrested or at their death makes me think that there were probably a lot more people at the time who would also fit into this category. It does feel (to me, a layman) that you could rock up in a new town and go "hello I'm Jeff the Man" and people would just accept that.

It's also important to note that the majority of sources I've found are about people we could define as trans men (FTM). I've only found one person who could be described as a trans woman. If anyone out there has more sources for trans women, I'd love to hear them - specifically in medieval Europe/England.

There's also a big discussion to be had around the idea of women dressing as men to achieve a goal. People love getting into arguments about it. My general rule is that if someone lived as X gender, and was forcibly outed against their will or at death, then I feel we can more safely assume that their experience maps more closely onto a trans narrative than it does one of a woman taking on the "disguise" of a man.

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TRANS & GNC ACADEMIA

Here's some of the sources I've been using that examine medievalism through a trans or trans-adjacent lens.

Trans and Genderqueer Subjects in Medieval Hagiography, Alicia Spencer-Hall & Blake Gutt - a deep dive/collection of essays about medieval religious figures/saints through a trans lens, specifically about cross-dressing figures. Really fascinating, and available on open access.

How to be a Man, Though Female: Changing Sex in Medieval Romance, Angela Jane Weisl - goes into detail about medieval texts in which characters change their sex.

Transgender Genealogy in Tristan de Nanteuil, Blake Gutt - trans theory in the story Tristan de Nanteuil.

Trans Historical: Gender Plurality before the Modern, edited by Greta LaFleur, Masha Raskolnikov & Anna Kłosowska - A great big examination into trans history/gender. I desperately want this book.

Clothes Make the Man, Female Cross Dressing in Medieval Europe, Valerie R. Hotchkiss (book, no online source available) - Another look into women dressing as men and gender inversion.

The Shape of Sex, Leah DeVun (book) - A history of nonbinary sex, 200 - 1400BC. Not read this one yet but it's on my TBR.

In fact, I'd recommend all of Leah DeVun's work, which I'm currently making my way through. I'm currently reading Mapping the Borders of Sex.

The Third Gender and Aelfric's Lives of Saints, Rhonda L. McDaniel - An examination into the idea of a "third gender" in monastic life based around chastity and spiritualism

Erecting Sex: Hermaphrodites and the Medieval Science of Surgery, Leah DeVun - an essay about "corrective" surgery on intersex individuals in the 13th/14th centuries. (I've not fully read this one yet but the topic is relevant)

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TRANS FIGURES

Joseph/Hildegund (died 1188) - A monk who, upon his death, was discovered to have a vagina/breasts.

Eleanor Rykener (1394) - A (likely) trans sex worker arrested in 1394 (and another source that isn't wiki)

Katherina Hetzeldorfer (killed 1477) - An early record of a "woman" being executed for female sodomy. Katherina dressed and presented as a man, and some scholars read them as a trans man.

Marinos/Marina the Monk (5th Cent) - A monk who was born a woman and lived as a man in a monastery. Marinos was accused of getting a local innkeeper's daughter pregnant. Their "true sex" was discovered upon their death.

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ROMANCES* & GENDER

If you're interested in the idea of gender presentation and trans-adjacent stories, I very much recommend taking a look at some contemporary sources. I've tried to take a sort of neutral approach to pronouns for these descriptions, but it's hard to marry the medieval and modern ideas of sex and gender! The titles are all links.

*Romances here means Chivalric Romances: prose/verse narratives about chivalry, often with fantastic elements. Not, like, falling in love Romances.

Le Roman de Silence (13th Cent) - in order to ensure inheritance, a couple raise their daughter as a boy. The baby is called Silence/Silentius/Silentia. The poem features the forces of Nature and Nurture, who argue about Silence's "true" gender - Nature claims they're a girl, and Nurture claims they're a boy. Silence has a variety of adventures, largely referred to in the text as a man with he/him pronouns, and at the end their "true gender" is discovered and, as a woman, they marry the king.

Yde et Olive (15th Cent) - to avoid being married to their own father, Yde, a woman, disguises themselves as a man and becomes a knight. They end up in Rome, where the king marries them to their daughter, Olive. After a couple of weeks, Yde tells Olive about their "true gender", but the conversation is overheard. The King demands Yde bathe with him to prove they are a man. An angel intervenes and transforms Yde's body into that of a man.

Iphis and Ianthe (Greek/Roman myth, but also in Ovid's Metamorphois, which first came to England in the 15th Cent) - Telethusa is due to give birth, but her husband tells her that if the baby is a girl he'll have it killed. When she gives birth to a girl, she disguises the baby as a boy. Eventually, Iphis is engaged to Ianthe. (Incidentally, this is also a really early example of same-sex romance, as Iphis struggles with their love for Ianthe "as a woman"). Before the wedding, Iphis and Telethusa pray at the temple of Isis, who transforms Iphis into a man.

Tristan de Nanteuil (11th/12th Cent) - from the Chanson de geste, after his alleged death, Tristan's wife, Blanchandin/e, disguises themselves as a Knight. Clarinde, a sultan's daughter, falls in love with them. Blanchandin manages to hide their "true sex", but when Clarinde demands they bathe with her to prove they are a man they flee into the woods. There, they meet an angel who asks if they want to be transformed into a man. Blanchandin accepts and he is turned into a man for the rest of the poem. (Incidentally the angel gives him a giant cock. Yes, the text specifies this).

Le Livre de la mutation de fortune (1403) - written in the first person by Christine de Pizan, the poem describes how the narrator is transformed by Fortune into a man after the death of their husband during a storm at sea. They maintain that 13 years after the event, they are still living as a man. (They also mention Tiresias, a Greek mythological figure who was a man transformed into a woman for seven years).

Okay, for now - that's about all I can think of. Happy reading!

#ask #history #medieval #queer history #trans history #trans #queer #research

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purpledemonlilyposting · 2 months ago

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[Lily's Post]

Look I know alot of you think my criticisms of A Place Further Than the Universe are only cause Lorch likes it but there is absolutely zero focus on science in the show and that's part of my problem with it.

It really is just a slice of a life focused entirely on getting 4 high school girls on a big technical boat for purity moeblob gooners.

At one point the girls go outside on the ship, alone, at night, during a storm, getting soaked by freezing cold ocean water in their pajamas against a thin rail they could easily get swept away from and this is treated as cute rather than idiotically suicidal. They just giggle and talk about how salty the water is.

SCIENCE!

None of the 4 girls are interested in anything STEM related. They all just want to go to Antartica because that's the plot.

Kimari just wants to do "something with her youth" because that's how 50 year old Jukki Hanada thinks 15 year old girls talk, Hinata just overheard them talking about it in the convenience store she works at and thought it sounded neat, and Yuzuki is only going cause she's like a minor child star celebrity idol vlogger or some shit and her manager mom (who is NOT accompanying her) thought sending her on a Japanese civilian expedition to Antarctica would be... good PR? Yuzuki also the only way the other girls even conveniently get on the trip.

Shirase at least HAS a reason, even if its a desperate, stupid one based on grief. Her mom disappeared out there 3 years ago and she wants to "find" her (more she just wants closure and is clinging to a childish hope her mom is still alive.) But Shirase's mom ALSO was NOT a scientist and ALSO just went to Antarctica just because she thought it sounded neat. And died in a blizzard out there trying to retrieve a laptop so she could email her daughter a photo of the aurora australis.

The girls get like one night of tent training and thats it. They don't even have to be in peak physical condition for a trip to one of the most dangerous places on Earth. It is barely about this expedition, its just there as an excuse to put moe high school girls next to accurately rendered machinery.

Here's how I'd rewrite this show: if it HAS to be high school girls maybe have the four attend the same school and be into different aspects of research. Maybe Hinata wants to be an engineer, Shirase is following in her artic researcher mother's footsteps despite the danger, Yuzuki could still run a popular vlog but maybe its climate science and no one takes her seriously cause she's a young girl believing she's just the presenter being fed information by a team, and Kimari could just be getting introduced to these fields she never even thought about before. And they're all trying to earn a grant that will allow them to go on the expedition.

But I suppose "girls and women being scientists" is too much of a stretch of the imagination for an aging Japanese man.

#Lily Orchard #Lily Orchard Critical #Anime #A Place Further Than The Universe #Moeblobs

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minus-plus-zer0 · 2 months ago

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The Bakusquad Gaming Group - Ch. 2 - Appearing on His Stream

You were still reeling from your first ever collaboration event with Dynamight, one of the more recent gaming channels to hit the big leagues. After the event ended, you went to bed and rolled around from pure giddiness. It wasn't just about the increase in views and exposure that mattered to you and your own gaming channel. No, what you really cared about was him.

You couldn't really explain these odd feelings in your chest as you cuddled up with your gaming plushie, but you knew it was his damn fault. Maybe it was his handsome face, or maybe it was the way he seemingly flirted with you, but something about him drew you ever closer.

But you had never heard any rumors about him dating, so you had no idea what to expect from a guy like him. You hoped he liked you as much as you thought he did.

You knew you had to keep the ball rolling. Your viewers on your channel kept asking for more videos between you two. And Bakugou specifically said he wanted you more in his life (or at least in his career). So you had to give them more.

You checked your viewer count and other related statistics. The stream garnered increased attention for both of you, but Bakugou still had the higher follower count. Given your channels had almost entirely different content save for some occasional overlap, you didn't really know how to compare yourself to him or how to overtake him. Bakugou's fans stuck around for his sheer skill and his determination to beat any level, no matter how difficult. You didn't really feel you could compete with that, given your cozy game aesthetic.

But you had to try.

Over your sugary breakfast cereal, you mulled over whether to text Bakugou then and there. You hemmed and hawed over it for several minutes before finally sending a text.

"Morning! Did you check your stats? Both of us went up, I think."

"Yeah I noticed."

"You think that was more due to you or to me?"

"Don't even ask me that. I'd say it's more due to me, 'cause I clearly got the bigger bump."

You knew he was an arrogant guy on his videos and streams, but it still kinda hurt to hear that. You hoped you had proven yourself to him already.

He continued texting. "But you still did a great job last stream. It pisses me off. That's the first time somebody's kicked my ass that badly."

You hummed to yourself happily, doing a tiny dance in your dining chair. You knew he didn't give out those compliments that easily.

"Now that I know what you're capable of," Bakugou texted, "you better get ready when I surpass you and your channel."

You bit your lip. You knew what Bakugou was capable of. But you wanted to show him you were capable of something great too. Cozy gamers like you were looked down upon as not real gamers, and you wanted to prove everyone wrong. You just needed the confidence to know that you even could.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you, of all people," you texted. "But I am up to the challenge!"

"Come over to my next stream," Bakugou texted. "A fan sent me some weird anime game that's more your style than mine. We'll play the main co-op storyline and we'll show the viewers who's really the best."

Your heart swelled. He was inviting you back! He saw you as a threat!

"Yes of course I'll come over! I'll show your chat who's boss. The cozy gamers will win!"

Somehow, you landed yourself at Bakugou's apartment for the first time ever.

The window views were almost always beautiful, the garden was well-groomed, the gorgeous pool out back was ready to use, and the location was in a great spot. Your apartment wasn't bad but it certainly wasn't as good.

Of course he'd live in a place like this. And of course he could afford it. Bakugou's parents were well-known fashion designers and his own channel probably made enough income to get by. None of the other Bakusquad streamers lived like this (in fact, most streamers generally didn't).

You tried to ignore how much his mere apartment complex intimidated you. You knocked on his door, a plate of sugar cookies in tow as you fixed your adorable outfit.

Bakugou opened the door seconds later, looking sharp in his black jacket and orange shirt. You gave him the cutest tiny wave of your hand.

"Hey!" you said. "I brought cookies! It's just a thanks that I always give when people invite me over. I didn't want us getting hungry during the stream."

"Cookies, huh?"

He took a cookie and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully.

"Well? What do you think?"

"...It's good." He sounded surprised. "Text me that recipe later. Can't believe this shit." He pointed at you accusingly. "This is the second time I've felt outdone by you."

Your heart swelled. You followed him inside his apartment as he kept munching on your cookies.

"Do you really mean it? I'm so happy! Now you're seeing what I'm truly made of."

He took your plate of cookies and set it down on the kitchen counter nearby. "I already kinda knew not to underestimate ya. I've also heard you talking about baking in your videos."

"You saw my cozy lunch stream two weeks ago?" You gasped, acting flattered like you were a superstar. "Were you eating lunch with me? Were you in the chat?"

Bakugou crossed his arms and leaned against his kitchen counter. "I never talk in your chats. Your chat members are too freaking weird. I'd rather listen."

"So you're one of the lurkers," you said, walking around him all coy. "I appreciate all my viewers, even if they don't talk. But I didn't realize you were so shy."

"I'm not shy." His eyes narrowed into slits. "And quit teasing me. You probably watch my videos the same way."

You couldn't wipe that cocky expression off his face because he was right. Your mildly offended face told him that much and he just chuckled.

Bakugou showed you around the rest of his house, and you were more than eager to poke your head around every corner. The place had a brilliantly modern feel to it, leaning into darker wooden colors to give it a mature feel. There wasn't a pillow out of place on the living room couch, the dining room table had a brilliant shine, and you noticed that the kitchen counter was even still wet from cleaning.

Wait, still wet?

"Did you clean just before I got here?" you asked, dabbing your index finger upon the surface. Bakugou looked at the offending spot like he wanted to smash it and buy a new counter entirely. "You didn't have to do that for me, Bakugou!"

He stomped over to you and ushered you away from the spot. "It's only normal to clean up before guests arrive! Of course I would! Next room!"

But of course, you soon noticed more things on his extremely short tour. When you threw something away, you saw that his trash can was still filled with used paper towels and even an empty cleaning spray. His bathroom also still smelled lightly of fresh cleaning products. You didn't even have to look hard to find these clues once you realized it.

Bakugou still tried to drag you away from it. He led you to his bedroom, where his gaming setup was. You didn't really understand what he was getting so worked up for.

You stopped him before you entered his bedroom. "Bakugou, it's okay! You don't have to be so insecure about this. It's normal to do an early spring cleaning before somebody visits. Were you worried about impressing me? Don't worry, I'm super impressed!"

Your cheery face tried to convince him just as much. His more serious face examined yours.

"''Course I want to fucking impress ya," he said, leaning against his closed bedroom door. "Do you even know who you are? You're a celebrity. I've watched a ton of your damn videos. And now you're here. With me. I thought you'd feel the same pressure, since you're my fan too."

His words warmed your heart. "Of course I feel the same! I wanted you to think I was cool too. Honestly, I would've been a little heartbroken if you didn't like my cookies." You laughed, rubbing your arm awkwardly. "But I also can't believe you're intimidated by me. You don't have to worry, because I love everything that I am seeing!"

"You're always such a sap," he said. Then, he leaned closer to you. "But thanks."

Bakugou turned and opened his bedroom door, walking inside and gesturing you to follow. It was a bit of a random thought, but you really liked the look of his broad shoulders from behind. You followed him, blaming his earlier behavior for getting you to think of him like this. You couldn't space out here thinking about his body, he might notice!

And he did notice. Bakugou briefly caught you staring and raised an eyebrow before you trailed over to him in his bedroom.

"Wow, so this is where the magic happens," you said, desperately trying to distract him.

Bakugou's bed had a nice, slick black spread and his gaming setup was set a decent distance away from the area, ensuring that nobody would ever see where he slept. In fact, you've never seen that part of his room from his videos. His closet and drawers were closed, but you didn't really want to peep into them anyways. His shelves were filled to the brim with video games and some books, and there were heavy weights around the corner. Bakugou had a few choice gaming posters above his bed and a few figurines around his computer. No raunchy anime figurines were ever displayed, that was more Kaminari's and Midoriya's style.

"Done ogling?" Bakugou asked, his arms crossed. You didn't know if he was referring to his bedroom or himself, but his smug face made you not want to test him on his true meaning.

"You'd do the same if you visited my apartment," you said, shrugging like you were voice positively innocent. You both knew better.

"You really sure of that?" He moved just a bit closer.

"I know you're just as curious as me."

"Well I wouldn't have invited you over if I wasn't."

"Awww. You really just say the randomly cutest things, huh?"

He scoffed and turned his head away, but he couldn't hide his smile from that angle.

You helped him with setting up before the stream started. With the two of you working hard, you got through the setup process quicker than he would've done alone. You chatted here and there in the mean time, and eventually you caught him laughing at a few of your goofy jokes. At first he tried to hide it, but he soon stopped and you got to hear a full bark of laughter, which was rare even throughout his videos.

During the setup, you occasionally caught Bakugou staring at you. Every time, he sharply turned away and pretended to be overly invested in his computer again. He was like a little school boy around you sometimes.

Once you two finished, both of you posted on social media to alert your viewers that the stream would start soon. You both got into your seats in front of the computer and his moderators rolled into the chat. Eventually, the game started. Your shared face cam turned on and you beamed at your viewers.

"Hey guys!" you chirped. "I'm joining Dynamight today on his stream again and we're gonna be playing an old favorite of mine! It's super nice to see you all here. I hope some of you remember me from our last collab. In fact, I think I see a few familiar faces here in the chat from my own fanbase..."

"You don't gotta be that nice to them, you know," Bakugou said, leaning on one arm of his gaming chair towards you. "She may find you guys sweet and stuff, but I don't. I've seen how you guys post. You people are total dicks."

"Well, too late!" you said. "I can't take back my kindness, now can I?"

Some of his viewers remarked they were shocked to see somebody else on his face cam, let alone in his house.

"isnt that his bedroom?" said one viewer. "did they break in?"

"are you guys dating?" asked another. "also did they break in?"

"See what I fucking mean?" Bakugou said, gesturing to the chat displayed on the computer screen. He slapped the hand to his forehead and groaned.

"Come on guys," you said. "It's not like that... It's just easier to play the game when we're together like this. Local play is better than online play for this game."

But the commenters still kept going. "theyre dating! dynamight liked her social media posts before this and we have evidence!"

You highlighted that comment with Bakugou's mouse and keyboard and poked him in the shoulder. "Wait, is this one true? You've liked my posts?" You poked him repeatedly in the sides. "You're giving me social media engagement?"

Bakugou glanced at the computer screen. "Ugh. They're reading too much into everything. Ignore them and move on."

"Fine, fine," you said. "Settle down chat. We're here for the game, not to gossip. You can do that on my streams instead and next time, it won't involve my life..."

"It better not!" Bakugou cried.

You grabbed your controller and proceeded through the game's main menu. The game's intro played out before you two, something you'd seen a hundred times. You read the text out loud for the chat's sake.

The game was an anime-styled fantasy beat 'em up. You'd play co-op with Bakugou to traverse through varied fantasy lands in order to defeat a dragon that was summoning monsters all over the kingdom. The commenters described your voice as soothing, and Bakugou paid rapt attention to you as you spoke.

The character selection screen popped up. Bakugou chose to play as a barbarian, while you played as a white mage. The first level took place in a castle overrun with monsters and you two got to work on cleaning up.

You were hit with all sorts of nostalgia upon fighting the first waves of castle monsters. You recounted some of your old memories of this game to Bakugou and the chat. Bakugou was much more critical of the game than you ever were with your nostalgia goggles, but you liked hearing his perspective because it was so different from yours. Some of the viewers even agreed with him.

"These controls are really fucking unintuitive," Bakugou said, his fingers smashing rapidly on his controller. "Shit! I didn't want my stupid character to fucking do that! No wonder your kid self struggled with this game."

"It's an older game so it's not super robust," you said, while your white mage killed the castle monsters much more smoothly. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. Here, let me show you the ropes."

"I can handle it!" Bakugou said, not tearing his eyes from the screen.

"Pretty please? It'll only take a second. I promise it won't be that long."

"Tch... Fine."

You guided him through killing the castle monsters, giving him several tips and pointers until he got the hang of things. Once he got over the learning curve, he started killing things just as well as you did. You knew he'd only get better than you if you underestimated him. You cleared the first level together and proceeded to the huge town outside of the castle.

"...Guess this game isn't that dumb," Bakugou said, looking over at you. "You see how good I did there? Your advice wasn't half-bad."

"Yes, yes, I saw. You did very well!" You clapped your hands together excitedly, your gaming chair swiveling slightly because of it. "Oh it's so rare to see a game redeem itself in your eyes!"

"I never said it was redeemed," Bakugou retorted. "I'm just giving it a fucking chance, that's all."

"That's all it needs, actually."

Sure enough, Bakugou started to enjoy himself more as you continued to explore the town. He still snarked at some of the monsters' anime-inspired designs (which you reluctantly found funny, despite his mean-spiritedness) and he still raged a bit when things didn't go his way, but you were there to calm him down, killing off any monsters that were giving him trouble. You had never seen his rage die down like this on his other streams, and it was a little unnerving! You felt the need to rile him up all over again, just for fun. So you challenged him to see who could kill the most enemies, and he accepted.

The viewers enjoyed seeing you two pull off complex combos as you competed to see who could kill the most enemies level after level. The chat tried to keep tally of how many monsters you both killed per level, but it was clear you were mostly neck-and-neck. You were essentially enemies on the same team. You both cleared several levels pretty soundly with how eagerly you two steamrolled the competition.

Hours passed as you two explored new maps and defeated various mini-bosses, all the while taking a few breaks during the stream. Even though you and Bakugou fought almost the entire time, you loved spending time with him since his reactions were always funny. You always knew how to get a rise out of him.

Finally, you both traveled to the top of the mountain where the dragon rested. The dragon summoned multiple enemies to distract you, and this was your final chance to get ahead of Bakugou. For most of the game you had focused on avoiding as much damage as possible and being overly cautious, but now you attacked without regards to your health. Near the end of the battle, you were almost dead.

Once the dragon was near low health, it collapsed to the ground and both of you wailed on it repeatedly. You feared that Bakugou's barbarian would be faster than you, but you spammed your fastest attack even though it dealt the least amount of damage. Through sheer luck and button mashing, you ended up getting the final blow in. The game showed off your attack in slow motion as the dragon died.

"Chat, who won?" Bakugou said, his eyes shooting to the monitor. "Who fucking won?"

"Give them space, Bakugou," you said, holding him back from the monitor he was currently trying to terrorize. "Yelling isn't gonna make them work faster."

"Tch. You'd be surprised. Wait--WHAT?!"

You barely came out on top. Multiple chat members were able to corroborate each other's numbers. You cried out in happiness. Bakugou threw his controller down onto the table, groaning. The story's outro rolled, showing that you saved the kingdom. The credits showed the aftermath and your characters being celebrated, but Bakugou looked none too happy at this development.

"That was SO much fun," you said, kicking your feet. "I can't believe I won!" You poked Bakugou's ribs again and he simply looked away from you, shaking his head. "Oh I hope chat enjoyed our playthrough. Did you guys like the game? The plot twists were super awesome. Gosh, the story and the gameplay still hold up. Don't you agree, Bakugou?"

Bakugou still refused to look at you. "...Guess it's not that bad..."

"Ohhh?" You got up into his face, forcing him to look at your disgustingly cute smile. "That's a different answer from before! You came into this game hating it."

Bakugou frowned. "That's--ugh... Fine. It was good." You squealed. "Hey! I said it was good. I didn't say I fucking loved it to death. Don't get all cocky and smug with me just because you got me to admit that. This game's learning curve's still a bitch."

"You say that but you did soooo well once you got the hang of things, so I disagree!"

"That's only 'cause I'm me. And also 'cause you literally taught me everything 'cause you've been playing it for years. This is first and foremost a kid's game and most kids would've hated these controls." Bakugou sighed and then leaned back in his chair, looking up to think. "Anyways, the plot's cliche as fuck. The anime art style's hit or miss. The animation could be better. And the game poses this shit as a happy fucking ending even though the townspeople are all probably dead 'cause we couldn't save them in time."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Even some of the chat members were agreeing.

"...But in the credits," you said, "we see everyone happy and alive!"

"I don't buy it. That's only the survivors."

"You're just seeing what you want to see," you said, patting him on the head to accentuate your point.

He sharply turned to you, defensive and afraid of your soft, loving pets. You could almost hear the chat members gossiping about it now.

"Oh, and another thing!" you said. "Did you know they're coming up with a sequel?"

"WHAT?!" Bakugou sat straight up. "No. We're NOT playing it! Stream's over."

"But thanks so much to all of you for watching! Thank you! Love you!" You sent Bakugou's face cam all of your kisses, to which he observed without any sense of joy. "And don't forget to follow me on social media!"

"Don't add that last part!"

Bakugou stopped the stream. You put your hands on your hips. "Don't end the stream on a grumpy note! Bet you're just jealous that the camera got more love from me than you."

"WHAT?!" Bakugou looked like he could pop a vein. You laughed lightly in the face of his predicament as he muttered complaints and protests under his breath.

It was a daring proposal that you had to suggest. But secretly, you hoped you weren't wrong!

Bakugou went through his typical stream outro routine, such as posting on social media and downloading the video file for later. Once you two finally shut everything off, you relaxed back in Bakugou's extra gaming chair, gawking at the silly boy while he towered above.

"I really had a fun time today," you said, tugging on his black jacket. "Thanks again for inviting me over. I know I give you grief, but I really mean it."

"You're coming back over again," Bakugou said, pointing at you. "...Right? Couldn't tell who the chat loved more, me or you."

"I think they loved us both," you said, lightly spinning in his extra gaming chair. "They said they've 'never seen someone take verbal pot shots at you and get away with it.'"

"You didn't get away with it," he said, stopping your spinning with one hand on your chair and then coming up to you, face-to-face. "I almost won, remember? Despite this being your game."

"Oh, yeah..." You hung your head.

Bakugou looked concerned. "...The hell's wrong?"

"...I'm just a little bummed at myself for not doing as well as I'd thought. Maybe I'm a bit rusty, but I really wanted to be better than you at this game since I've spent so many years on this. Especially since this is gonna be saved on your channel forever."

He patted you on the head and you looked up at him with your pretty doe-eyes.

"Quit worrying," Bakugou said. "You did good. In fact, you're real fucking tough, just like I expected. But do better next time, I wanna see you at your strongest."

You gave him a small smile. "Of course."

He chuckled. "Didn't expect you to get all insecure on me. You're really worrying for nothing, again. I've wanted to meet ya for a long time and I got to see your skills firsthand. I'm not gonna complain about those results."

You felt silly upon realizing that much, and maybe that was a good thing.

"I'm gonna upload this to YouTube later," Bakugou said, sitting back in his own seat. "And--well... I need a good thumbnail. Do you wanna be in it? If... if that's okay with you."

His face looked so innocent. The biggest, brightest, dorkiest grin appeared on your face. He immediately grew apprehensive at the mere sight of such a thing.

"You are sooooooo shy sometimes!" you said, giving a fully belly laugh. Bakugou looked terribly distraught, but you snuffed that feeling out of him real quick with your next response. "And yes, of course I'd love to be on your thumbnail. The viewers will be so happy to see you've made a new friend! But you have to be there with me!"

"FUCKING SERIOUSLY?!"

With your approval, Bakugou would place both of your beaming smiles on the thumbnail of his video when he uploaded it later. The Bakusquad better not tease him for this, because you wanted all the opportunities to yourself.

After the stream ended, Bakugou invited you out to eat ramen with him at a nearby restaurant. You agreed, not wanting the night to end. You both rode on his orange motorcycle, your arms tight around his waist as you clung to his back the entire ride. When you arrived at the restaurant, he removed his helmet, his head facing away from you with pink dusting his cheeks. He appeared effortlessly beautiful under the street lamp glow. Perhaps because of this, he wouldn't face you.

"C'mon, let's go," he said, and he headed into the restaurant with his helmet in tow. You followed after with your own.

You sat down in a booth and surprisingly, Bakugou sat down next to you instead of across the table. You got your menus and the waiter walked away.

Bakugou briefly stood to dump both your helmets on the seat across from you two. Once he sat back down, he addressed you directly. "I'm paying this time. So choose whatever ya want."

"What?!" You put the menu down like it offended you. "No, no, no! You invited me over to your stream, the least I could do is pay you back!"

"You being on my stream benefits both of us, dummy. There's nothing to pay back. Plus, you brought me cookies earlier, so I've gotta pay you back for that."

"Bakugou, that's really not--"

"Pick something!" Bakugou handed you back your menu. "It's not that big of a deal. You know I'm loaded."

That arrogant grin of his always knew how to get under your skin, one way or another.

"Thank you," you said, as you held your menu. "You really are too sweet to me sometimes."

"Well we're friends now, ain't we?"

You both examined the various dishes on the menu, with Bakugou already moving on to check the drinks. You tried to look for the cheapest yet yummiest items, but you mentally shrunk back at the sight of how spicy some of these dishes could get.

"I didn't bring you here for nothing," Bakugou said, seemingly reading your mind. He peered over your shoulder, checking out your menu. "I brought ya because I wanted ya to try some of these hotter dishes. It'd be a waste if you didn't try 'em. You're always vlogging about going to those cute damn cafes. Bet they don't got nothing like this."

"I don't know..." You frowned. "I don't want to end a good day with a stomach ache... And it'd waste your money too..."

"There's normal versions if you really can't handle it," Bakugou said, setting his menu down on the table. "But you should still try something new. This is one of my favorite places to hit post-streams and sometimes one last good kick is what you need right after a big day."

Your gut reaction was to avoid foods that hurt you like the plague. But with Bakugou right beside you eyeing the strongest foods on the menu, you felt the urge to outdo yourself today. You didn't want to seem weak in front of him.

When the waiter came back over, you ordered the lowest level of spice for your ramen. You were feeling risky today.

Bakugou, however, wasn't impressed.

"You chose 'mild'?!" he snapped. Some of the other patrons peered over to look.

"Yes!" you said, clapping your hands together. I'm trying something new, just as you asked! Aren't you proud?"

Bakugou looked confused, but he could tell you weren't even kidding this time. "But that's not even their best shit..."

"Bakugou, it's okay! It looked delicious."

"What if ya don't like it? I don't want you thinking I got crap taste if you don't like it."

You shrugged. "I think we just have different tastes in food, Bakugou. There's nothing wrong with that. Plus, since I'm eating with your money I'll be sure to enjoy every bite! So chin up, okay?"

Over your meals, you two chatted about the various games you've played recently. Bakugou was surprised to learn that you played a lot of the shooters he covered on his channel. You two had more in common than you would've ever previously believed.

You really loved talking to him. This was the first time you managed to truly befriend someone on your level, someone who could understand your lifestyle. You didn't have the same gaming circle of friends Bakugou had with the Bakusquad, and even then none of the Bakusquad even scratched his number of followers. You two were soon becoming in a league of your own, higher than the rest but not quite at the top yet.

Just then, a thought occurred to you.

"Why did you start streaming?" you asked. "You don't really seem like the 'nerdy' type. And if I didn't know you any better I would've thought you would've gotten a career related to sports. I just don't expect tough guy gym rats like you to be full-time gamers."

"Tough guy, huh?" Bakugou cocked his head at you.

"Just answer the question!" you said, before loading your mouth full of food.

"Fine. It's 'cause I love kicking ass in-game and I wanna show everyone undeniable proof that I'm the best. I'm sick of watching a bunch of nobodies acting like they're somebody onscreen. It's a real pain watching other people play when they don't know what they're doing."

You slurped your food. "So... spite is what fuels you."

"Kinda," Bakugou said, bringing food to his mouth. "And you?"

"Well, I can't say I agree with your mindset," you said, setting your chopsticks down. He raised an eyebrow at you. "But I also didn't expect much else. I'm the opposite of you, I think! I wanted to start up this platform because I love sharing my experience with games with other people, and just being there with them. After building up such a big fanbase, I know I have to use my platform for good and to spread a positive message, instead of abusing my power and getting into drama and scandals like other celebrities."

"So you're saying that I'm like one of those celebrities," Bakugou asked, resting his hand on his fist.

"Nope!" you chirped. "You're nothing like them! You get into arguments, sure. But you're not evil! You've just got an ego, but you've also got the skills to back your ego up. That's so cool. And you're passionate and more honest than most, which I really admire. Like, you're mostly the same person on and offscreen, except you might be even sweeter in private... I tease you about it sometimes, but I really appreciate how nice you've been to me."

"Y-yeah, of course," Bakugou said, his face a little too serious. "You may still not get it, but... I look up to ya. So it's insane hearing you say that to my face. I actually modeled my channel after yours early on... You're basically my fucking hero."

"What?! Really?"

"Yeah. I must've found your channel first before you ever found me."

"Well you should've reached out then! You're my hero too!"

"Hell no! You would've rejected me with the numbers you had at the time." Bakugou relaxed against his seat, looking into the distance wistfully at the thought. "I always thought you would've said no." Then he turned to you. "But seeing how things turned out, I'm glad you reached out first. 'Cause that's how we got to this point now."

"...I'm glad I reached out too."

(This chapter was supposed to come out days ago, but as it turns out it's actually like 20 pages long and super hard to edit. Still, I'm glad I took my time because I'm really more satisfied with these results than I would have been if I didn't edit!)

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purplespacekitty · 6 months ago

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Ramblings on Tora Ziyal

I think it’s well beyond a shame that they killed off Ziyal because I really would have liked to see her Cardassian-Bajoran identity more fleshed out and have her navigate the world beyond her father’s influence. She was starting to do that a bit with Kira and Garak (though I strongly feel that Garak should have been more of a mentor figure than a love interest) and it would have been really cool to see her get to hang out with Jake and Nog and just be a kid for once. It feels way too weird the way they began her character as this traumatized little girl who knew nothing but the brief time of her life she spent with her mother on Bajor and the horrors of the Breen mines and then magically turned her into this saccharine sweet, mostly well-adjusted young woman who loves her tyrant father despite his crimes (and in many ways, is seemingly unaware of them???????). Where was the therapy? Where was the rehabilitation? Where was the jaded child we saw in “Indiscretion”? What if Ziyal had been allowed to channel her anger and pain into learning about Bajor and Cardassia, into healing herself? Her dad basically plucked her out of the Breen mines after years of giving less than a Cardassian vole's asshole about her and then it turns out he originally planned to kill her when he found her? After she prayed for years that he'd come and save her? I'd be pissed.

But also, I wish they'd explored more of why she didn't appear to be all that pissed. We have almost no other context for Ziyal's childhood, certainly not any of what it was like before Dukat sent her and Naprem away. Was it simply exhaustion and desperation that led her to the conclusion that she'd rather die than not be with him once he'd found her? Was there a guise Dukat put up to portray himself as a kind father and mask the tyrant underneath before he sent Naprem and Ziyal away? Or did she even get to see Dukat at all in her early childhood? Did she simply assume he would be a loving father? Is that the image Ziyal clung to for comfort for all those years? Did she cling so tightly she could do little else but believe it?

It feels icky to kind of reduce her existence to Dukat Drama™ the way the show ultimately did with her death. Why didn’t we get to see her experiencing disillusionment about Dukat, who never actually changed for the better when she was still alive and trying to get him to stop being so horrible? Why didn’t we get any Rugal-level anger from her, the hushed-up child of a Bajoran comfort woman and the genocidal former Prefect of Bajor? Because, obviously, Dukat never actually took his fatherhood to her seriously. She tried to imagine him as someone he was not and he predictably chose to inflate his own ego by encouraging her. She wasn't much more to him than a device to garner some twisted idea of sympathy for himself. Ziyal needed more of a chance to break away from relying on Dukat for unconditional love. Because his love, as we know, was not unconditional. In fact, I hesitate to even call it love at all, given how ready he was to manipulate Ziyal, how ready he was to get rid of her. She had unconditional love from Kira, who immediately went to bat for her before she’d even met her when she found out what Dukat planned to do to his own daughter. And I totally believe Garak’s love for Ziyal could have grown into something unconditional, but they ruined it with some weird, out-of-nowhere romance with an uncomfortable age gap and then had her killed off like some tragic, helpless maiden.

DS9 was sort of the only place Ziyal could experience any sort of semblance of real safety in her life, especially considering both Bajoran and Cardassian attitudes towards biracial children. It would have been interesting to explore an arc with her making DS9 her home as a place that is conducive to the cohabitation of many different species and cultures while also wrestling with isolation and ostracization from those who share in the two most pervasively impactful facets of her identity. Maybe the writers wanted to focus on portraying her girlhood and favored it over exploring the complexities of her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage. But honestly, they failed at both. She never got to have a girlhood and she ultimately became more of a plot device than a fully-fledged character. This franchise started off with its most interesting and beloved main character being both Vulcan and human. I know Ziyal is someone else entirely, but they totally could have done more with her than they did.

I would love, love, LOVE to see her engage with different aspects of both Bajoran and Cardassian culture. I wonder if she would develop any kind of spirituality regarding the Prophets. Since Bajorans are widely a spiritual people, it's possible Naprem shared some of her spiritual practices with her daughter. If she did, does Ziyal observe those practices to feel closer to her mother? Does she seek Kira's help in learning more about Bajoran spirituality? Do they connect over the struggles their faith has gotten them through? Would delving deeper into Bajoran spirituality open a gateway to acceptance from other Bajorans? Or would it make them turn their backs on her even more? How does her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage impact the way she interacts with her own spirituality and beliefs? As far as Cardassian culture goes, Garak certainly has an eye for art and I could see her connecting with Professor Natima Lang, Hogue and Rekelen and learning about Cardassia's resistance movements.

Also, multiple Bajoran and Cardassian drinks, confections and meals are shown throughout the series and especially with respect to its main character, DS9 frequently places food in an important cultural, community-building role. As someone whose strongest connection to their own heritage comes from food, I would have loved to see Ziyal engage with both Bajoran and Cardassian culture through food.

Obviously, we were robbed of heaps and heaps of space station shenanigans:

Nog sharing what he learns from Starfleet Academy with Ziyal, Ziyal trying tube grubs and actually liking them.

Ziyal illustrating Jake’s stories into comic books or murals and the two of them creating stuff together and maybe some nerdy pop culture history discussions on the side. I feel like Jake, Nog and Ziyal would totally have weekly movie nights.

Odo looking out for her, giving her advice about handling bullies, the two of them bonding over being generally considered the odd ones out and Ziyal making paintings to add to his quarters.

Kira giving her lots of hugs, teaching her to fight, protecting her from bigots and helping her embrace her Bajoran background, teaching her Bajoran culture. Ziyal stealing clothes from Kira's closet occasionally ("You hardly ever wear anything other than your uniform, anyway! And they fit, see?"). Ziyal sneakily tagging along on Kira and Dax's trips to the holosuites, eventually convincing them to just invite her to them regularly, anyway. She knows how to use her cuteness as a force for good, but more importantly, she knows how to use it as a force for capers and hijinks.

Garak making her clothes, teaching her the art of cunning deceit and helping her embrace her Cardassian background, teaching her Cardassian culture. More hangouts in the holosuites basking on steaming rocks. And the two of them giggling in tasteful mirth at Bashir because he finds Cardassian literature boring.

Gossiping with Bashir and Jadzia, learning to treat wounds and carry a bat’leth, never growing tired of Dax’s many tales of woe, romance and adventure.

Sisko teaching her how to cook and inviting her to play baseball with him and Jake.

Quark occasionally letting her have a drink on the house because she can be more devious than him if she wants to be (“Listen, kid, if you’ll get rid of all this root beer for me, you can have as many free glasses as you want”).

Leeta and Rom being the cool aunt and uncle who buy her all the jumja sticks she wants.

Babysitting Molly and Kirayoshi and learning about plants, science and Earth history from Keiko. I wish Keiko had gotten more screen time - in general, but also of her in her element, studying plants and playing music. It's criminal that we never see Keiko play her clarinet in DS9, so I definitely would love to see the two of them playing music together if Ziyal felt so inclined.

Leaving O’Brien in the dust at darts for reasons he simply cannot fathom.

Listening to Klingon opera with Worf over glasses of prune juice.

Becoming an accidental stowaway on Kasidy’s freighter one day and Kasidy taking her with on missions to Bajor. Kasidy, Keiko and Ziyal hanging out together is a trio dynamic that never happened and definitely should have.

Talking stuff out with Ezri, the two of them commiserating over their respective identity crises.

Dressing up for nights at Vic’s.

Learning about Klingon music from that Klingon chef (I believe his name is Kaga) on the Promenade.

Punching each successive version of Weyoun in the fucking face (maybe even Weyoun 6, accidentally or intentionally, doesn't matter, it would just be funny).

Rebel strategies with Damar (I think he’d come around if he didn’t have it out for her and got over Cardassian bureaucracy), Kira and Garak.

Helping around the house whenever she and Garak visit Mila, long talks with Mila about her Obsidian Order days.

Weekly dinners with everybody.

I want to see her making friends and being supported by all the loving, caring people around her who love her (collectively and individually) more than her actual-piece-of-shit dad. I want her to grapple with the fact that certain people hate the mere existence of her enough to want her dead but also decide to go “hell with it” and fucking live for herself. She deserves to be more than the tragedy that made Dukat finally snap and descend into pure insanity. She deserves to laugh and cry and stomp her feet and dance and shout and sing and love and play and paint to her heart’s content. She deserves to be angry. She deserves to have a childhood, an adolescence, an adulthood and an elderhood. She deserves to live. And maybe to be the perpetrator of a few political assassinations as a treat.

So………....................suffice to say, I have a LOT of thoughts about Ziyal. I love her and I wish the show runners had loved her more, too.

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lefteagleblizzard · 5 months ago

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𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖞

Mike Schmidt x gn reader

Summary: You and Mike are fighting for full custody of Mike's little sister, Abby, against their aunt Jane, who seeks custody solely for financial gain. Due to your demanding jobs, the custody battle drags on, and the court mandates that you and Mike attend a childcare course twice a week. But no one warned you of how boring it would turn out to be.

Warnings: no pronouns used for reader. Fluff and smut.

Words count: 2500

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You sit beside Mike in a cramped, overly air-conditioned conference room, its walls adorned with peeling paint and motivational posters that haven't been updated in ages. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over everything, making it feel more like a hospital waiting room than a place for learning.

The professional at the front drones on, her voice a monotone murmur as she reads verbatim from a bland PowerPoint presentation. Her monotonous drone fills the air, a relentless onslaught of lifeless bullet points on child care, each one more tedious than the last.

You glance at the clock, its ticking a constant reminder of the hours dragging on.

You shift in your chair, trying to get comfortable while feeling the hard plastic dig into your back.

Mike shifts uncomfortably in his seat next to you, his eyes struggling to stay open. His fatigue is palpable, dark circles mar his eyes, and his hair is tousled in a way that suggests he barely had time to run a comb through it before rushing here. You know he's had a rough night, another sleepless vigil followed by a demanding night shift.

He glances at you with a weary but determined smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. He leans in closer, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the chill in the room. "Is it just me, or is this the most boring thing ever?" he whispers, his voice low and gruff with fatigue.

You chuckle softly, not wanting to attract the instructor's attention. "Definitely not just you," you reply, sharing a conspiratorial smile. The instructor, a gray-haired woman in an ill-fitting suit, continues to read directly from her PowerPoint slides, oblivious to the whispers and stifled yawns in the room.

Mike shifts his chair even closer to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. "I can't believe we have to sit here twice a week," he murmurs. "I'd rather be doing... well, pretty much anything else."

He's trying so hard to stay awake, but the material is unrelentingly dull.

He had already taken care of Abby since her birth, those were all things that he knew already.

You shuffle closer to him, your chairs scraping softly against the linoleum floor. He leans closer, his arm bushing yours. "How are we supposed to learn anything when she's just reading to us?" His voice a low, gravelly murmur.

You smile at him, appreciating his effort. "Just try to hang in there, Mike. The more you think about it, the slower time seems to go away."

He leans closer to you again, his breath warm against your ear. "I don't know how much longer I can stay awake," he confesses, his voice laced with a tired charm that makes your heart flutter.

You nudge him playfully "Just try to hang in there."

Mike sighs heavily, his eyes blinking slowly. He leans even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "You know, if this were a different kind of class, I'd be finding other ways to stay awake," he murmurs, his voice taking on a playful, flirtatious tone despite his exhaustion.

You can't help but giggle softly. "Oh really? And what would those ways be?"

He smirks, his tired eyes twinkling mischievously. "Maybe we could... practice some hands-on techniques" he suggests, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're way more interesting than this presentation," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your boredom.

You chuckled softly again, glancing around to make sure no one notices, "Focus, Mike. Stop distracting me."

He chuckles, but it's a weary sound. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's hard when you're sitting right next to me."

You roll your eyes affectionately, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Before you can respond, the lecturer clears her throat, and you both straighten up, trying to look attentive. Mike stifles a yawn, his hand covering his mouth.

You turn your attention back to the presentation, scribbling notes as the professional continues to drone on.

This course is just another hoop to jump through in the fight for custody of Abby. Jane, their aunt, is contesting custody, not out of love, but for the financial benefits. The thought makes your blood boil, but you push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Mike's voice breaks through your thoughts, softer this time. "I really appreciate you being here with me," he says, his hand finding yours under the table. "I couldn't do this without you."

Your heart swells with affection. "We're in this together," you reply, squeezing his hand. "We'll get through it, boring lectures and all."

An hour passes with agonizing slowness.

The instructor's droning voice seems to meld with the hum of the air conditioning, creating a soporific background noise. Mike continues to fidget, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake. You can see the struggle in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

This woman was a living sleeping pill and was starting to have an effect on you as well.

Suddenly you feel a weight on your shoulder. You glance over to find Mike fast asleep, his head resting against you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close even in sleep. His soft snores are a gentle, rhythmic sound in your ear. They tickle, and you stifle a laugh.

You glance around the room, hoping no one has noticed. The couple in front of you provides some cover, their heads bent together as they whisper and giggle, clearly paying no more attention to the lecture than you are.

You adjust your position slightly, trying to make yourself more comfortable while supporting his weight. The last thing you want is to wake him up; he desperately needs the rest.

With one arm pinned by Mike's embrace, you do your best to jot down the key points from the slides, your handwriting growing messier as your hand tires.

The instructor continues her monotonous lecture, oblivious to the sleeping figure beside you.

Mike stirs, his body slipping precariously towards the edge of his chair. You gasp softly and adjust him, his head lolling against your shoulder. He mumbles something, his arm tightening around your waist. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, your heart swelling with affection for him.

Every so often, Mike shifts or murmurs in his sleep, and you can't help but smile at his vulnerability. Despite the circumstances, there's something endearing about his trust in you, his ability to find solace in your presence even in such an unlikely place.

He looks so peaceful, so vulnerable. Your heart warms at the thought of his trust in you, even in sleep.

You glance around the room from time to time, paranoid that the professional will notice Mike's slumber.

Your eyes meet those of a woman sitting a few rows away. She's watching you with a smile, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Panic flares momentarily.

What if she tells you?

The woman shifts slightly, revealing her own husband, who is slumped in his chair, fast asleep with his mouth open. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, her expression a mix of resignation and amusement. You relax a bit, realizing she's not going to make a scene.

Time drags on. The instructor moves from one tedious topic to the next, covering everything a child needs with the same lackluster enthusiasm. You find yourself stifling yawns leaning toward Mike’s head without applying too much pressure.

You know how much this means to Mike, and by extension, to you. Abby deserves to be with someone who genuinely cares for her, not someone who sees her as a paycheck.

A sudden loud snort startles you, and you realize it came from Mike. You glance around quickly, but it seems no one noticed. You stifle a laugh, shaking your head fondly at him. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and unguarded, only makes you love him more.

Two hours later, the session finally comes to an end. The instructor wraps up with a few half-hearted words of encouragement before dismissing everyone.

You nudge Mike gently, whispering his name. He stirs, blinking groggily as he lifts his head from your shoulder and starts looking around in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, but don't worry. I took notes for both of us."

He sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Mike stretches, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess.

"Ready to go home?" you ask, linking your arm with his.

He nods, a tired but content smile on his face. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

The drive home is quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts. The fight for Abby's custody is far from over, but moments like these remind you why it's all worth it. You glance over at Mike, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. He's tired, but there's a determination in his eyes that makes you proud to stand by his side.

As you crawl into bed, the exhaustion finally hits you. Mike slides in next to you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light.

"Thank you for today" he says, his voice soft and sincere. "I couldn't do this without you."

You smile, Jeaning in to kiss him. "We're in this together, Mike. For Abby"

“Speaking of which, should we text Vanessa?” You asked him. You had asked her if she could watch over Abby while you were both busy without really giving her a perfect hour of when you will both be free again.

She agreed whole heartily, saying she had no problems at keeping her until night.

“Let’s wait a little longer. I’m sure Abby is having fun with her”

“You’re already tired?” a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The memory of him dozing off, his head resting heavily on your shoulder, played through your mind like a gentle tease.

"Honestly, I can't believe you slept through the whole thing," you chuckled.

"Thanks, you know," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Letting me use your shoulder as a pillow saved me from complete boredom."

You laughed, the sound light and easy. "Anytime. Though, I think I deserve a reward for being such a good pillow."

Mike grinned lazily as he moved closer, his hands resting on either side of your hips. "A reward, huh? I think I can manage that."

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that started slow and tender but quickly grew in intensity. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, your breaths mingling in the heated space between you two.

He broke the kiss. His forehead resting against yours as he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a playful glint. "You know," he began, his voice low and intimate, "I really need to tire myself out if I want to sleep tonight."

A knowing smile spread across your face. "Is that so?" you replied, your tone equally suggestive.

Without further preamble, Mike leaned in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss once again. His hands cradled your face, his touch both tender and insistent. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you ensconced in this moment of intimacy. His kisses deepened, each one more urgent than the last, as if he was trying to erase the dullness of the evening with the intensity of his passion

You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his breath mingling with your own, created a cocoon of shared desire. Mike's hands began to explore, tracing the contours of your body with a familiarity that still managed to ignite sparks of excitement.

As the kiss broke, Mike's eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. "I think I'm starting to get tired," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

You laughed softly, a sound of pure contentment. "Then I suppose we should keep going until you're ready to sleep," you teased, pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

He grabbed your thigh and pulled half of you body on the top of his. Your head was laying on his chest alongside your hands.

It would have felt cute and really cuddly if it wasn’t for his leg right between your thighs.

He knew what he was doing.

He pressed harder, making your breath heavier. “hm...Mike..” you breathed heavily.

Air leached outta his nose as he liked what he heard.

His hand slipped down your neck to your lower back. As his hand were giving you chills and making your back arch; his hand slipped inside and grabbed your butt. He squeezed, his grip making his nails dig into your skin, making you flinch.

“Mike please”

“You’re so adorable” Mike whispers as he presses inside.

You let out a mixture between a moan and a laugh, and Mike thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

He sets a slow and steady pace, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes as he slowly rocks them back and forth. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you shared kiss after kiss.

Mike can’t help but to speed up his movements a bit, the feeling too good to resist as he brings you that much closer to the edge.

You wrap your legs tight around Mike as he continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and you moans, peppering Mike’s face with kisses as you tell him how good he is and how much you love him.

When Mike finally falls over the edge, his face is the picture of pure perfection, and you swear you’re staring at an angel as you fall right behind him, holding Mike close as the two of you try and come down from their intense high. You’re breathing hard, both of you covered in sweat, but your smiles are bright, and you share another kiss and whisper “I love you’s”.

In each other's arms, the promise of a restful night seemed almost secondary to the joy of the present moment.

Together, you'll fight for what's right, and no amount of boring lectures or bureaucratic obstacles can stand in your way.

This is an idea that popped inside of my head when I was about to fall asleep during a boring ‘lesson’ (reading slides) and it gave me the boost to continue till the end. Hope you liked it :)

#mike schmidt smut #x male reader #gender neutral reader #male reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson x reader #derek danforth smut #x gn reader #derek danforth #clapton davis #peeta mellark #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson #fnaf

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

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Hai bestie! I'm here to request a coffee shop r x ghost story! Him coming in and looking like he'd order just a black coffee or tea and actually getting some of the sweetest drinks that actually sound and taste really good(you had to try after his 2 or 3 time coming in).

He's a regular now and you happen to be growing a crush that isn't totally obvious. I'd say you get caught gushing about him being the morally Grey man of your dreams to your coworker (r is on register today) when he came up to ask for a remake because only you seem to make his drinks right 🤭

Hi bestie!! Sorry this took ages, hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Simon walks towards the familiar streets towards the cute hole in the wall coffee shop. Black face mask snug on his face, hood up to hide the rest of his skin. His glare, huge form and large heavy strides make people steer away from him on the street, some stumble out of his way. He smiles under his mask when a man almost trips over himself after seeing him stride in his direction.

With the simple face mask and comfortable civilian clothes, he's just Simon, not Ghost or Lieutenant Riley, just Simon, and as he enters the doors to the coffee shop, he's now ‘the’ Simon who orders the most complicated and sweetest drink you've ever made.

“Why this place, LT?” Soap once asked him when he noticed that he always has the same cup carrying the cafe's logo on it every morning. Simon answers back gruffly, “none of your business, Johnny.” Truthfully, it's the only place that could get his drink right, and it's the only place that has you.

No one in your small café knows Simon, not even you who he always asks for to make his order. But you would love to know him despite his intimidating gaze and deep voice that could split mountains. You would like to know him more, more than the casual talk and more than the lingering touches when you give him his awfully sweet drink. You would love to know Simon who always drops something in the tip jar. He enters the establishment quietly, not stalking, no, it's just a habit of his that he can't shake. Your back is turned away from the counter and the door, a smile evident on your face based on your excited tone of voice. While Simon walks over to you, none the wiser to your awful crush on him.

And while he listens to you gush to your coworker that he refuses to believe that he's the current subject of, (refuses because compared to him, you're sweeter than his usual order of drink) His name rolls off your tongue like the honey you put in his saccharine coffee. Simon still thinks it's a different Simon even after you described him in detail, words flowery and affectionate.

“He's so mysterious, I think he's one of those guys who have so much lore in them y’know? Someone who's full of stories to tell. I think I'd like to know him.”

Your back is still turned away from the register, he thinks you'd be dead already if you're one of the unfortunate ones who he happens to run into the battlefield. Simon shakes the thought away. It's a slow day, customers sparse and tip jar lacking, so Simon lets you chat away to your friend. Not because he's too embarrassed to interrupt you, nope, not all.

Simon’s palms are uncharacteristically sweaty, breath shuddering with every compliment you unknowingly throw at him. He would like to get to know you too if you would permit him. He gives himself a mission, ‘operation: get to know the cute barista before the end of the day.’

“He's so nice too! And those eyes— oh I could get lost in them.” You don't notice your friend signaling to you about said man waiting patiently behind you. Her face suddenly turns flat, smile disappearing and her eyes flitting between you and something behind the other side of the counter. You think it's another customer so you end your story while you turn around. “Him being fit helps too. Sorry, what can I do for you—” Caught red handed, you turn into stone, eyes widening at the large form staring intensely at you. You're dead, oh so dead. “Shit balls.” You say under your breath.

“Is that a new pastry on the menu?” Simon asks flatly, the dry joke making you nervously chuckle. You think it's hilarious though, if not for the world shattering embarrassment you're currently in.

“No, but I can make it happen if you want.” You try to save face with your equally dry joke. Snorting at your own jape, you cringe at yourself, embarrassment blankets your entire being, insides turning all over. You expect him to roll his eyes, instead he chuckles lowly, a deep laugh that rumbles his chest. You smile nervously, noticing the slight crinkle of his brown eyes brings you at ease. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”

Simon takes his hood off, blonde tufts of hair in full display. That's when you notice the blush on the shell of his ears and you swear your simple crush on the man has increased tenfold. He leans on the glass counter, putting on his best charm. As Soap once told him, “shame that you don't use what god has blessed you with.” Simon still has no idea if he meant showing off his ‘assets’ or to use his charm, albeit that charm is as dry as his humour.

“The usual,” He says it without stuttering despite the deep crimson on his ears. Your eyes are glued to the red hue on the shell of his ears, with every second that passes, the shade seems to turn darker.

Simon's been around the cafe so many times (definitely not because of you) that you have his order memorized and perfected just like how he likes it. You don't mind how complicated it is or how much sugar is in it, just seeing his satisfied face after he takes a sip makes it all worth it. His generous tips are an added bonus too.

You beam up at him genuinely, not your polite customer service smile, but your smile that you only reserve for people you actually like.

Composing yourself, you joke like usual. “So no on the shit balls?” ringing him up, he gives you the exact amount you need, warm calloused hands brushing along your palms briefly. It's enough to deepen the blush on his ears. If that was even possible considering that he looks like he's about to detonate on the spot.

“Maybe next time, ‘m on a diet.”

You giggle, the sound making him smile, he's glad he's wearing a mask.

“I'll keep that in mind.” He gazes softly at you, hands balling into fists in an attempt to keep his composure. “I saved your usual seat,” You glance at the table in the corner, the ‘reserved’ sign written in your own handwriting is placed on top of it. “as always.”

“Good, thank you.” He might as well marry you on the spot.

“Enjoy your coffee, Simon.” Your smile seems to single handedly brighten the entire store.

Sitting down, he slyly watches you in the corner of his eyes. ‘you're bein’ a fuckin' creep’ he thinks to himself, so he watches the pedestrians outside instead. If he didn't look away he would've seen you gaze at him back. And he would've seen you spilling milk on your apron. You're glad he's looking away or you'd drown yourself in milk.

After making his honeyed drink, (and cleaning yourself up) you personally deliver it to him. He notices your smaller strides, and how your hands slightly tremble while holding his coffee cup. You swallow thickly, placing his order gingerly on the table.

“Three pumps of caramel right?” You try to make conversation even though you already know the answer to your question like it's the back of your hand. Simon sees you flick your eyes towards his cup, his mind tells him of danger. But knowing you, you wouldn't hurt him, right?

“Yes, thank you.”

You nod, a shy smile creeping up on your lips. “Of course, Simon. Anything else?” Stretching your time, you avoid eye contact, eyes once again moving to the steaming cup.

“Nothin' else, for now.” Simon feels the awkwardness in the air. He curses himself at how you could make him nervous just by standing in his proximity.

“Okie dokie.” You crumble away the second you let out your words. Turning around, you beat yourself up for being too nervous to tell him about your number carefully written on his cup, right beside his name. You hope you're not being too straightforward, hell, you only got the courage to write it because of your co-worker who keeps telling you to bite the bullet.

“Wait,” Simon's voice cuts through the quiet and the classic music softly playing in the store speakers. You turn around, anxious of what he's going to say to you. Did he finally see the numbers? “I—” Simon starts but he gets sidetracked by the loud ringing of his phone. He curses under his breath while you wait.

Taking the phone from his pocket, he sees Price's name in the caller ID. It rings twice before cutting off on his superior's side. A signal that he should immediately go back to base. ‘Operation: get to know the cute barista before the end of the day’ has to wait, for now. This is why he always asks you to put his drink in a to-go cup even though he's going to have it inside, he never knows when he'll be called.

“Duty calls?” You read the room and how his eyebrows knit together in frustration. Nodding, you give him extra napkins to hold his hot coffee with. “Here, take care, Simon.”

Simon stands up, eyes searching for something, anything on your face that would indicate that he should stay, or at least fancy him back. You turn around before he could get a good reading on you, “right, thank you, Y/N.”

“No problem, as always.” You look over your shoulder, just as he was about to leave. Coffee cup in his large hands. Ears no longer red. You give one last small smile, and he smiles back unbeknownst to you.

You hear the door open and close, your co-worker looks at you with an apologetic face. “Maybe next time?”

“Sure, maybe.”

A few minutes tick by, you tend to a new customer, taking her order when the door opens with a bang. The sound was so loud that everyone in the café jumped in their skin. You thought the hinges were broken from the harshness. You don't expect the person on the other side though.

Simon heaves in the doorway, hands bracing on the side, sweat dribbling on his brows. Even his mask is lopsided.

“Simon?” You ask, concerned. “What happened? Are you okay?” The other patrons looked on, weirded out, some were worried.

He inhales loudly, straightening up, he opens his fist to reveal a crumpled piece of the cup. Your number is still written on the paper.

“Is this your number?”

“Yeah?” You think you're fucked, absolutely, royally, fucked. You've made a mistake, that you read all your friendly interactions as something more when it was just that, friendly. You think he's going to your manager to complain, and that you're going to be fired all because you decided to take a leap—

“Can I keep it?” Simon's voice puts a stop to your frantic thoughts.

“What?” You blink, trying to decipher what he meant even though it's as straightforward as pouring coffee into a cup.

“It's for me, innit?” Now he's the one who thinks it was all a mistake, that maybe, just maybe that you've given him the wrong order, that another customer ordered his exact drink.

“Yeah, d-do you want it?”

Simon raises a brow in understanding, finally, you're both on the same page. “Yeah, can I text you?”

You would have laughed if not for the door hinges creaking weirdly. “Of course, Simon.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Simon clears his throat, eyes roaming around the people's faces. “I'll pay for the door.” He says before nodding at you, the second he turns around, a wind blows right at his face, taking his hoodie off. His entire neck and ears are as bright as a tomato.

You tamp down a chuckle whilst he desperately tries to fix his hoodie back on.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#request done #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost cod #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x gn! reader #x reader #fanfic #ghost fluff #simon ghost fluff #ghost fanfic #the kr8tor's creations #this is my first time writing him pls don't beat me up

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papayafiles · 14 days ago

Text

i have a draft from ages ago that goes "god i wish i could time travel ten years into the future to see how many world championships lando norris has won" but the more i think about it, the more i think that if i did, via some crazy scifi shenanigans, end up in the future, i would do everything possible to avoid finding out the wdc results. and it's the same reason watching a replay of a race where you already know the results never hits as hard as waking up at the crack of dawn to watch it through a laggy grainy livestream, frantically livetweeting or liveblogging every lock up and overtake, heart in your mouth, the rest of the world falling away, fully locked in on 60 laps of cars just vrooming around and around in loops. because a huge part of this sport is the anticipation, the hope and the faith and the possibility. the not knowing is painful, and the thought that my driver's entire career could pass without that coveted championship—that i could follow him for years into the future, and never get to watch our wildest dreams come true—literally haunts my nightmares. and i know it's a possibility—it happened to so many promising young drivers, due to circumstance or luck or timing or talent or skill or any combination of the above (see daniel ricciardo)—and i know that becoming a world champion is such a rarity, but despite all that, at this moment in time, i'm convinced that lando is a future world champion.

and i think that kind of belief, the whole i don't know where it came from or how i ended up here but i believe it so absolutely this is borderline religious, is a part of what makes being a sports fan so much fun. it's what makes this such a special, magical, incredible experience. getting into sports is the last thing i thought i'd do; i spent my entire childhood not really getting it, because if this is just a game, then why are people losing their heads over something that's not even real? and i have a whole separate monologue about exactly why i think sports are so compelling to so many, which i won't get into in full now, but one of the best parts of it all is getting to believe in something that much. having faith, holding faith, keeping faith over time: the odds are stacked against literally every athlete, because this whole career path is so treacherous and random and slippery; so many things could go wrong so fast, half a tenth of a second and it's all over, but i'm still here, and i believe in my driver always. that's been proven through his past results, obviously, but it's also: i chose him, or he chose me, or some cosmic combination of events occurred circa austria/silverstone 2023, and now i'm in this for life.

i honestly feel so bad for people who have never experienced this kind of fan(girl) experience—and really, i see it a lot, particularly with the whole internet irony epidemic we're in, people who make fun of fans of any celebrity for being sooo parasocial and cringey, for feeling such magnitude of emotion over someone we don't even know, who has no idea we exist, etc etc etc and it's like: i really don't think that's the point? of course the version of lando who lives rent free my head is different to the real 24 year old british adult man probably fast asleep in his monegasque bed rn. when i blog about him and i call him my little guy and my future world champion and my favorite person in the world, that's a version of him who exists in the gray space between the real person, his public media personality, the fervors of my f1/lando norris obsession, everything i've read or written about him, every image or video i've seen, every night i lay awake dreaming about him, etc. and that version of him is my guy. the experiences that led me to the place and the person i am now, one inextricable from the past year-and-a-half of living breathing and loving this sport so much all my friends know i'm a die-hard fan, is special and is mine and is more important than a simple "lol she thinks she knows this millionaire." i lay no claim to the man himself, but this experience, these emotions, this faith, this community and these memories—they're all mine.

one of these days i will watch him cross the finish line in abu dhabi in first place, and i will hear his uncontrollable screams of joy over the radio, the way his voice goes up higher when he's happy and his accent comes in stronger and he suddenly sounds young again, and he'll thank the team back at the factory and he'll thank will and he'll thank his parents and his siblings and his family, and i'll be sitting over my laptop in my lando hoodie sobbing into my hands, and he'll pull into that first place spot and climb out and stand on top of the car that brought him there, and he'll put his fists up in the sky and i'll watch him, and the entire grid will come around to hug and congratulate him, max and oscar and carlos and all the rest of the drivers who love a story and love a new champion and love him, and then he'll take off his helmet and his hair will be all crazy and there will be symmetric balaclava lines on his face, his ears will be flushed red, and he'll be smiling so big and wide, all wild, infectious joy, jenson or nico or hell even david coulthard will do the post-race interviews and they'll ask him how he feels and he'll respond with something that will be plastered on my twitter timeline and then i'll watch him raise the trophy on the podium with this sense of elated disbelief in my chest, and i'll log on here and say "is this real IS THIS REAL" and "i can't believe this is REAL" and "oh my god. oh my god this is actually happening THIS IS REAL MY DRIVER IS A WORLD CHAMPION" and the national anthem will play and he'll throw his head back still grinning and still happy all golden and glowing and radiant, having won it all, and i'll cancel all my plans to cry on the internet about it. it'll be miami 2024 all over again, but magnified and elevated on every single level. and i don't even want to time travel forward and find out for sure when that moment will come, because honestly, i'd rather not rob my future self of the unbelievable feeling when it finally hits, when lando norris world champion passes from the realm of daydreams and manifestations and uncertain tremulous maybes, to certainty, reality, the undeniable truth. to: this is the timeline we're in, and god am i glad, god is it the best one. all those years of waiting and hoping and dreaming and fearing, holding this so carefully in the palms of my hands as if it's a possibility i can make true, somehow, if i just think about it hard enough, delicately enough, cheering him on with everything i have, and now. and here. the champagne pop on the podium, the alchemy playing on repeat, he's getting sprayed from every direction, that ginormous world champion trophy, the shine of his reflection in the gold, the instagram post, the message of gratitude that i'll want to get tattooed onto my eyelids, the tribute video and his name engraved in the annals of history, the entire mtc roaring his name, grandstands of flouro rising to their feet, lando norris formula 1 driver race winner world champion, my guy forever. i want it all. i can't wait i can't wait i can't wait but i will, i'll wait as long as it takes, and this is real to me, to me it's already been written, i'm just waiting for that chapter to arrive. because it will.

#was any of that at all coherent? idk!#hitting post!!#this whole thing was written to that's so true by gracie abrams #i'm just. so emotional.#call me dramatic i don't even care i love him #i love him so much #lando norris #late night thoughts #thoughts

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aitadjcrazytimes · 1 year ago

Text

It's been a good run

But it's time to bring this to a close!

The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.

C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.

I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.

I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.

I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?

Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!

...

...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!

So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?

A: All of it.

Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?

A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-

It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.

Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.

A: Yep!

So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.

The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!

Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.

Q: But why make the blog then?

A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3

It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!

The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!

That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.

Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?

A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".

Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?

A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!

Q: Was it really ALL fake?

A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.

Q: DID you ever read homestuck?

A: Nope. And I never will.

Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"

Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?

A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.

Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?

A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.

Q: Your AO3 handle?

A: Nope, not that either.

You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.

Q: But-

A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.

And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:

No one will ever believe you.

I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.

Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3

#final post #if you don't say goodbye then aitadjcrazytimes isnt really gone #they're just not here right now #<-so that was a fucking lie -tk from the future

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punsmaster69 · 7 months ago

Text

12/APR/20XX

i think that was my goal.

remember? the one i was mentionin' about twenty nine pages ago? i'd said something like...

"and when i achieve it?"

"...guess i'll finally close this book for good."

so, i'll count that to be my goal.

therapist agrees, so you can't get on me about that.

sharing inner thoughts was never something i'm great at. so much so that you might've forgotten that's what this was for.

can you believe that? s'posed to be a thought journal. daily mental-state evaluation.

ended up talking about my friends instead.

wasn't for me, i suppose.

...after some amount of pages, huh? geez.

[This calls attention to the fact that the book is much thicker than it was when it started. Seems instead of switching to another one, his journal just... gained pages.]

point is.

seems to me like a good place to stop things at.

i'll give you a final update, and we'll call it. alright?

——

breaking the news went as smoothly as if we'd entered the room and broke a vase on the floor instead. (undyne about did just that.)

the second calamity was when mettaton and my bro show up kinda late

holding hands.

turns out my bro is much more decisive than i am.

apparently it was mettaton first, then paps who decided after a few serious dates.

congrats to 'em.

been deflecting questions best i can all day from the announcements, so i was thankful my bro showing up like that took enough of the heat off me n' tori.

i...

can't stop smiling.

well- alright, that's a given.

but i mean this doofy grin i haven't kept up this long in ages.

i'm not even trying for this one.

all this talk about relationships, i think undyne's gotten excited. talking about marriage and all that. alphys has gone beet red.

grillby and the bar gave me a hell of a lot of pats on the back. i'd be bruised if i weren't bones.

if it wasn't that which would've bruised me, it definitely would have been the punch flowey gave me. the comment that earned me it?

"so..."

"this makes me your dad, right?"

he didn't take it well.

despite the petal-haver's apparent hatred... i think he's secretly glad that toriel's happy.

my bro sure took the news well.

granted, since he already thought me and her were dating, he just was happy for the public announcement.

"WAIT."

"DOES THIS MAKE ME AN UNCLE?!?"

"Are we gonna get another sibling??"

"WAIT, are we gonna get a SKELE-sibling?!?"

"whoa, slow down-"

"Frisk, NO??"

"Do not encourage this BONEHEAD to-"

"I think that is quite enough."

tori puts her foot down on that conversation.

living situations shouldn't change much for now, but maybe we'll figure out something else in the future. (staying with my bro. don't panic.)

concerns about my health have slowed down, as i've gotten more used to daily magic usage. noticed way less bad days recently, right? papyrus still insists on teaching me to use attacks better, so i've got that to look forward to. there might still be ups n' downs health-wise, but i'm confident in getting through 'em now.

paps is noticeably still somewhat anxious about it, fidgeting whenever everything is brought up. which is fair, but. still.

i'll get him a therapist like i've been seeing. an in-person one'll work better for him, i think.

not sure what else'll change, really. everything feels mostly the same.

other than (gasp) public handholding. (scandalous.) every time we're beside one another, tori's finding some form of physical contact.

that's different.

...in a good way.

right now, it looks like the aftermath of a wild party. friends knocked out in random spots; dangling half-off the couch or sprawled across the floor. i think frisk and i are the only ones still awake, since they wanted to put blankets on everyone.

"(Psst. Is one blanket enough?)"

they raise a large blanket in gesture with a questioning look.

i speak extra softly so i don't disturb toriel laying at my side, with her head on my shoulder and an arm across my torso; hand met with mine.

"(yep.)"

"(Kk.)"

frisk lays a blanket over me and tori. they stare contemplatively before speaking.

"....."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"...'night, kid."

welp.

guess that's it, huh?

....

i'm happy.

caring is nice.

———★

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃

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lesbiansforboromir · 8 months ago

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Why you don't like Galadriel?

WELL. I mean this would need a complex answer, for one thing because you could say I don't actually dislike Galadriel as a character really. She's interesting, she has layers, her position in the story creates intriguing mysteries and insights into elven realities and her actions are always percieved in multiple different ways by different characters. She is both an object of world building and a lense to view it through, she had only contempt for Feanor but is the character MOST like him in the end, there's lots going on!

So as usual what I'd say I dislike is more fandom's perception of Galadriel than Galadriel herself, although don't get me wrong in terms of sympathy for her I have none to spare. But to the fandom she's like... well she's whatever anyone wants her to be, so long as that's pretty much perfect and always more right than anyone else around her. Idk if this question came because of my RoP Galadriel tirade post of a week ago, but the fact that people seem to believe Galadriel's right to the 'good guy' role is so irrefutible that it makes any negative portrayal of her 'bad' and 'tolkien's rolling in his grave' etc etc- it's just flabbergasting to me and is a symptom of this problem.

Like Galadriel's entire motive for coming to middle earth, declared and narrated, is to rule over people. She wants to be a Queen of a land that she controls with people inside it whom she has power over. That's it. Now, far be it from me to be on the Valar's side, lord knows I don't support their right to unquestioned rule either and the Eldar's urge to rule themselves is completely valid and Galadriel's no worse than any of her male counterparts who were also looking for the same thing. (In fact, given this is something she is apparently required to 'overcome' when none of those male elves must do the same, I'm inclined to believe this is another of those 'eowyn must reject violence for peace because war is bad except when men do it and for sure the men do continue to do it that's fine' misogynist tolkien moments.)

BUT STILL.. that's not like... a GOOD motive is it? It's neutral at best, right? And Galadriel never actually does anything that could be called more than polite for the rest of the time we know her. She never risks anything for the good of middle earth, she never solves any problems, she goes from place to place to avoid any conflict that threatens her until she and her husband finally decide to usurp a Silvan kingdom and magically isolate it from the rest of the world. They change Lindórinand's name to Lothlorien, thereby overwriting the language of it's native population and Galadriel then uses the power of her ring (that was given to her she didn't make it heself) to EMBALM (tolkien's words) the forest in time just so that she could make it appear as much like Valinor (her home, not the silvan's) as possible. Like!! This is not some paragon of virtue character!

Honestly RoP's portrayal of Galadriel is actually vastly more sympathetic than her actual character. PTSD, survivor's guilt and the maladaptive cope of needing to hunt down evil fanatically for all eternity is, to my mind, 100% more understandable than just... staying in Middle-Earth because she still wanted to rule over people and never believed she did anything wrong in the first place. Which is the canonical reason she's still in middle-earth post the first age, technically a sin by the Valar's standards! Galadriel is rebelling against the will of the west in doing this, but apparently SHE gets all the grace and chances to 'reform' in the world, unlike some other characters I could name >:|

... Maybe she aggravates me a little, but she does so IN COMPARISON to the criticisms other characters must bear as 'the reason they had to die to redeem themselves'. Like if Boromir wanted to take the ring once in order to save his people, is death really the only way to atone for that when Galadriel has been power hungry for 7000 goddamn years nonstop, acquired and used her own ring of power to satisfy that power hunger and then managed to 'overcome it' at the very last minute JUST before middle-earth became 'less elven' (and therefore her position there would be less prestigeous) to demurely sail off home to a gilded cage paradise where literally all her family are alive and waiting for her. Like is 'power hunger' really the sin Boromir comitted here that he needs to die for. Is Tolkien really criticising the desire for power. Is the narrative of lotr really so cohesive and consistent as to allow you to put all the characters into good and bad little boxes and declare those categorisations infallible?

Am I making sense, is this coherent. Does it make more sense if I say like... I do not dislike Galadriel as a character, I dislike what her fandom-reputation reveals about the way the story is engaged with by and large? When I am getting heated about this or that misconception or aspect of her character, it is not because I hate she has that aspect, I like a lot of morally questionable characters, what I am railing against is the double standard that her having that trait reveals. (And I'm not even really angry about it I'm more just very activated by what it reveals about the story, like it makes me feral) The narrative loves Galadriel, Tolkien loves Galadriel, characters regularly threaten violence in order to defend Galadriel from even mild verbal criticism and no one appears to see this as a kind of ominous aspect of her when she's done very little to deserve it. Other than, of course, be ontologically 'pure' and 'divine' due entirely to the circumstances of her birth. I'm a bit manic right now so I hope literally any of that made sense.

Actually addendum example just to further affirm my point. So catholic tolkien scholars will tell you that Denethor's use of the Palantir was a sin, apparently even using a tool you have 'the right' to use to observe reality as it actually exists and then extrapolating that observation into a prediction of the future (ie seeing frodo is captured and the ring gone and extrapolating that the enemy has it and you're all doomed) is a sin. Because only god is allowed to see into the future. And this is somewhat backed up by the way characters treat Denethor's use of the Palantir, it was apparently foolhardy and bad and reckless and nebulously wrong etc. Remember, the Palantir is not a mystical artifact, it is like a satallite imaging tool + a one way video only skype.

Galadriel's mirror literally sees the future 😂LIKE? WHY DOES SHE HAVE IT? WHY IS SHE ALLOWED TO USE IT? WHY CAN SHE JUST SHOW IT TO OTHER PEOPLE? It's because she's holy!! But that doesn't mean anything about her actual character, it's just an attribute she inherited from her family and her place of birth that actively changes what her existence means entirely by it's own virtue. Imagine living in this world for a second, imagine if it was ontologically true that you (an unblessed child of eru) would never be as right or as good as Galadriel, no matter what the reality of both your actions were. LIKE. !! WOULD YOU LIKE GALADRIEL?

#chats #Anonymous #anyway #erran vs tolkien #galadriel #boromir #denethor ii #denethor

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eepop-stuffs · 4 months ago

Text

Oh my god. I'm gonna rant. OK. So previously I was ranting about this to some people on discord (I sent the same rant to three different servers, it's your guys' turn)

So basically, in one of the various licensed Pucca games, there's a cutscene that reveals that Tobe killed Garu's father while Garu watched. However, this makes absolutely no sense given their canon ages and overall dynamic.

Below is the big rant, prepare for me to speak absolute nonsense.

So according to the Pucca YouTube channel, Tobe is 16 and Garu is 12.

In the cutscene, the VERY oldest Garu could be is about 6 or 7. Which would make Tobe about 10. I personally don't believe that bro would be doing allat at 10 years old given the fact he's regularly represented as utterly useless on his own (at least compared to Pucca and Garu combined, which is admittedly like comparing a housecat to a tiger). Assuming they're a little older than my prediction, placing the cutscene a little bit before the show, that would make it a little more plausable with Tobe being in his earlier teens (but honestly not by much).

But considering the Pucca lore is so generally fucked up due to the amount of retcons (Pucca being listed as 10 before being changed to 11 later on being a good example), let's assume that Tobe is at least a little bit younger than Garu's dad and Garu is a small child. Everything makes sense considering the timeline now, but that would leave their dynamic.

Their overall dynamic is the key reason this cutscene makes no fucking sense whatsoever and I personally choose to ignore it.

So, Tobe and Garu are more like frenemies than anything. For one, the only real reason that Garu seems to engage with Tobe's very non-specific "vengance" is his own ego. (In season one and two of the show, at least) it's evident that Garu fights Tobe half because of his friends and family and half out of spite.

Like, Garu just can't let him win. In the episode The Sooga Showdown (season 1 episode 19) where they all have to race around Sooga with one of Master Soo's ladies, we're given a good example of how much their rivalry is just one big dick measuring contest.

Secondly, that nonspecific "vengance" Tobe wants seems more like Tobe was wronged. Which could just be his goofy ass POV of how things went, but that's sort of reaching given all the information we have.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY;

In addition to all this, they are really just rivals. Like, when they aren't blinded by their little rivalry, they're shown to actually like each other's company. They don't seem to mind each other when they're forced to not be physically violent. If it wasn't for their egos, they'd probably be friends, probably have some sort of brotherly friendship. But they're both just little dillholes who can't take someone being better than them.

It's also important to note their rivalri is also toned down in season 3 for the point where Garu just seems to want to protect his friends and family, and Tobe just wants to beat his ass for no reason and make him miserable. There's not really any given reason for either of their behaviors because season 3 doesn't have much lore aside from the whole thing where Dandy is delulu about the Goh-Rong's """secret to martial arts""" and the stupid ass Dong King shit.

TL;DR

Tobe didn't kill Garu's dad, if he did their relationship would be much more volatile.

If anyone would like to prove me wrong, I would love to have such a conversation. I generally don't know ALL of the lore and don't trust the wiki for shit, so yeah.

I would also like to add that the yt channel can't really be trusted with any lore video posted within the past 4 or 5 months as of July 2024 since that channel is legitimately crumbling into dust. Some of the facts they give are a little cute, but for the bigger stuff I'd take it with a grain of salt unless it was stated somewhere before (like THIS video)

I'm so done with this channel istg🌚

Like gurl....gurl...

#garu pucca #tobe pucca #pucca #its 1am im way too invested in thks

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justjams2003 · 10 months ago

Text

Fast Pace- 15

I'd just like to thank @multi-universe21 for the Spanish Translations for these last two chapters.

The last one guys! This is the very last chapter! I can't believe it. I've been putting off posting this all day, because I'm so sad that this is over now :( Keep in mind, my request are always open. And I'll miss all you pookies so much 🫶. Follow if you'll miss me too, or don't. 🫶

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smut (Actually this time!!), sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, i guess Instagram posts?? Angst! Lots of it! Tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Part 14

Y/N'susername 12 January 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Charles_Leclerc, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, LandoNorris and 1,647,903 more Some might say it’s too fast, but you and I have always loved a fast pace. Tagged: CarlosSainz55 Comments: CarlosSainz55: So obsessed with you. I love you so much. <3

Charles_Leclerc: So happy for you two <3

Alexandrasaintleux: You’re gonna be a Sainz before the end of the year!

LandoNorris: Well done, @CarlosSainz55, you found someone who will put up with you like I do…where’s my proposal? CarlosSainz55: You’re not as pretty as her. 🤷 LandoNorris: A dagger to the heart😭

Comments have been limited.

Y/N'susername 6 March 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and 198, 379 more Working hard or hardly working? The first option. Tagged: Francisa.cgomes and CarlosSainz55 Comments:

CarlosSainz55: Missing you so much already, mi futura esposa. Y/N’susername: I haven’t been this far away from you since we met😭

Francisca.cgomes: Already having so much fun with you!

Francisca.cgnomes: @CarlosSainz55, you’re all she talks about ✋ Y/N’susername: Nooo, don’t expose me😭

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The cold air hits your face, you don’t remember Paris being this cold. It doesn’t help that the dress you’re being fitted with doesn’t do much for heat. You pull the coat you’d been given closer to your body. It’s luckily big, Dior doesn’t want any paparazzi seeing their opening outfit.

You’re exhausted, it’s two days before fashion week starts. You’ve been pulled into a million places, auditions, fittings, rehearsals and everything in between. The cold air makes you crave a cigarette so badly. Not only that, you miss Carlos more than anything. You haven’t seen him in a month. You call almost every night, but it still isn’t enough. When he’s busy, you’ll play the Ferrari video again. He isn’t himself, but it is close enough.

You can hear someone calling your name but assume that it’s the same people who have been calling you all day. That is of course, until someone grabs you from behind and turns you around to face them.

Your fight or flight kick in before you can even see who it is. Your arms flail and your legs kick in all different directions. Not really caring for the pins stabbing into your side. Where are Otis and Brutis when you truly need them?

“Y/N, Y/N! C'est moi! C’est moi!” You know that voice, you know that accent, you know these strong arms. Your kicking stops, but your screaming doesn’t. “Bérenger! Let go of me, you fucker!” He does, he drops you right as you are. You don’t even turn to him, your bare feet hit the pavement with some speed. Before you can even open the door again, he stops you once more.

He calls you again, but this time you turn to him with fury. “Don’t you remember? I’m a whore, and a slut who sleeps with pedos?” You can see your brother bite the inside of his cheek. “What? You were so opinionated when Jean was disowning me! Now, you have nothing to say?” You scoff at his utter silence, but it doesn’t last long.

“Nothing I say will make you believe me, so I’ll just show you.” He pulls out a phone and shows you an image. “What the fuck is this?” He sighs at you refusing to even look at his phone. “It’s a picture of Carlos at the restaurant where you worked, three months before you actually met.” You trusted him, just as you had trusted Jas and Ilsa and told him everything.

Now you regret it more than anything. You look, and you recognised those booth seats and plates, you’d seen them so many times before. You shrug, “May be, but it could be chalked up to coincidence. What are you even trying to say?” His jaw locks and then he swipes to the right, then again and again and then he hands you the phone telling you to do the same.

“Bérenger, what am I looking at?” He still looks on edge but continues to explain. “I hired a private detective. He found this on Carlos’ cloud.” Now you laugh at him, “That’s not possible. I’ve looked at Carlos’ pictures before, and I’ve never seen these photos before.” You go to leave, thinking he’s just lying to hurt you again.

“His phone, yes! But not his laptop, not his PC, and not his cloud.” It’s true, yes. “What would these photos even mean?” You cross your arms, finally allowing him to speak. “He’s been stalking you, can’t you see? Months before you even met and he has hundreds of photos of you!”

This catches your attention. You sigh, and shake your head, trying to make sense of what he is saying. “Please, Y/N, you’re my sister. All our siblings missed you so much over Christmas. The girls were so excited to see you got engaged and couldn’t believe their ears when I told them what happened.”

This hits you in the stomach. It has to be wrong. He has to be lying. Or else your whole world will truly become crumbling down. More than ever before. “Is, is that all?” He shakes his head repeatedly.

“No, no there’s so much more.” How could there ever possibly be more than stalking? “I have to go, but I have just one day off tomorrow before a hectic week. Here’s my hotel room, we’ll talk.”

Your heart is racing in your ears, you don’t really listen to the people talking to you. You just sit in the makeup chair, trying to keep your stomach from twisting and turning. It has to all be lies, right? He must just be trying to get in your head, to hurt you even more. But, if you truly believed that it's all lies, why would have you agreed to meeting him?

The ringing hits your ear, not panic ringing but your phone. Your hands shake seeing Carlos’ name on your phone. For a fact, you know that if you don’t answer, he is going to worry all day. You don’t want that, he’s your fiancé! But, does he really love you or are his jokes more the truth. Each time he tells you he’s obsessed with you, flies through your mind.

Was he being honest with you? Waiting for you to realise? You turn airplane mode on and the phone goes quiet.

Then there’s also the option of your brother lying. After all, he didn’t defend you that night. He didn’t leave with you when your parents kicked you out. In fact, he made it even worse. He called you and Carlos horrible names and haven’t tried to reach out.

Now you wish Kika was with you on this Dior shoot to help you think all this out.

“You have 10 minutes because 10 minutes is all you gave me.” You both sit down on the balcony of your hotel room. You show him the 10-minute timer on your phone and as soon as the clock starts ticking he begins talking. “I don’t need ten minutes. I can tell you all you need to know now.” You don’t say a word, allowing him to continue.

“Carlos paid us a million euros to disown you.”

He doesn’t even say another word, clearly he can see you spinning. “What?” He nods and then pulls out his phone. Your eyes don’t deceive you. Nothing is truer than the image of your parents sitting on the porch of their new mansion. Bright smiles are on their faces. He swipes to the next photo and you see your siblings being spoiled with lavish gifts.

Now you’re glad that you’re sitting down. Your heart rate has skyrocketed, and you can’t help but look around at everything you now own. The million-euro ring on your finger feels much heavier than ever before. Suddenly you feel exhausted, and a throbbing headache makes itself known. Your throat is dry and your eyes burn with tears.

“No, no, this…this is edited. It must be.” The sun feels too bright and your chest feels too tight. What else is left for you, if you don’t have Carlos? Yes, you have Kika and Alex, but if you lose Carlos you lose them too.

You’ve kicked your friends out of your life. You don’t have your family anymore. He’s it. Carlos is the only real stable person in your life. His family, his friends, they’re the only people you have.

Your brother panics, he pours you a glass of water and you swallow it with one big gulp. What’s even worse than having no one but him, is you realise that that is what he wanted. He wanted himself to be the only one in your life. For you to be isolated and depend on him and only him. He’s used his influence and his money to remove your friends, your family, your job and your person.

“Ilsa? Jasmine? Did he…?” Bérenger nods before you can even finish your sentence. It confirms your thoughts. “There’s more…” he pours you another glass of water. “He planned your meeting. We searched and we couldn’t find a single article of any mob or crazy fans that whole day. We looked in further… and found out that he paid your old boss to make sure you ended up in that ally on that day.”

What?

He's obsessed. He's crazy.

Then the contract enters your mind. NDA. Non-disclosure agreement. Is this why he had you sign it? You thought it was just a safety concern for Ferrari. To make sure they don’t lose any sponsors or something like that. Now you see it’s to protect himself. All just to make sure you don’t say a word. Because if this gets out, he’ll lose everything. He’d be in an even worse position than you.

“Bérenger. You need to leave.” His brows furrow together. “I have photos of that too if you don’t believe me. Recordings, audios, you name it.” You shake your head.

“No, no. I signed an NDA. You aren’t allowed to know any of this. He could sue you into oblivion. He could…” Memories of him saying he’d have people fired. The look in his eye when he would tell you what would happen.

He doesn’t move. “No, no. You’re my sister. He can sue me all he wants.” You shake your head, over and over. Standing up on your wobbly legs. Trying to push his huge body from the seat. “He’ll do worse. Much worse, I’m sure.” His eyes go big at your reaction. “Leave. Now.” He sighs and then takes your phone and puts in his new number.

“If you need me. For anything. Message me, call me.” You can only nod. “Be careful. Don’t let the guards see you looking anything but normal.” Then you realise, they’d likely already told Carlos that Bérenger has visited. “Turn your location off. Don’t use the same road twice. His reach is far. Be careful.”

Your mind is reeling. Should you call him or wait for him to call you? If he does call you, should you lie? Pretend you don’t know anything and then buy a plane ticket with your own money? How would you even get to the airport without the guards? If you leave now, you’ll lose all your modelling jobs. Everything you’d been working hard for. Your dreams, you’d be throwing your dreams down the drain.

The phone rings, and you see his name on your screen. Your hands shake as you answer the phone. You don’t hear anything and can’t even speak. “¿Mi amor?” He asks through the phone, sounding just so innocent. ‘My love’. Are you really his love or just something he owns? Like some watch he’s crazy about.

You go to speak, but your throat fails you. Sobs echo through the hotel room. “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.” Your tears become more, he was so perfect. Too perfect. “What did you do?” Your voice is just above a whisper but you can hear him shift on the other end.

He chuckles, thinking it’s some sort of prank. “What are you talking about? Don’t mess with me now. You didn’t call me back yesterday. I was worried sick.” Each of his words are like knifes into your heart. “Bérenger told me everything.” It’s such a struggle to even speak. “And you believe him?” He doesn’t even ask what Bérenger told you. It just confirms it more to you.

“He showed me the photos, Carlos.” You can hear him curse in Spanish on the other side. “Carlos, I loved you, how could you do this to me?” You pull your legs close to your chest, some sort of protection. It doesn’t stop your heart pounding. “And you still do. You still love me, don’t you mi amor? You told me, I’d never get in trouble with you.”

You scoff at his pleas. “That’s before I found out that you paid my parents to disown me!” He scoffs the same as you had. “You say that as if you loved them because they didn’t love you. Think about it, mi amor, they took the money, didn’t they? If they loved you they would’ve kicked me out there and then. But they didn’t.”

He’s right. Who would be so evil as to give up their own daughter, just like that? Clearly, you never really meant much to them. Why are you caring now? He must sense you coming to this realisation.

“I did it for you. I hate the way they made you feel. Weren’t they so cruel? They would hurt you over and over and I couldn’t stand it. Shouldn’t my love be a good enough reason?”

Another cry courses through you. It’s quiet for quite a bit, just the sound of your crying. You can hear the shuffling before he speaks. “We’re hoping on the plane now. Don’t go anywhere.” This just makes your cries worse. “No, no, please. You can keep everything. The car, the jewels, the clothes anything. Just, please don’t hurt me. Or my family.”

You can hear his footsteps stop. “No, no, mi amor. You know I’d never hurt you. Don’t you?” You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re shaking and your cries become too much. “Don’t do anything rash. We’ll be there tomorrow.” You throw the phone across the bed, wanting to be as far away as possible from it.

Without even thinking, you throw open the door and face your bodyguards. They don’t even turn to you. “Who are you two loyal to? Me or Carlos?” They don’t say anything, like always. You pluck on Otis’ sleeve, he’s shorter and you’ve him smile…once but once is enough for you to reach out. “If Carlos comes for me, trying to take me, who will you go with?”

You can see him gulp and his face soften. “Carlos will not hurt you.” His words are soft and it’s the first time either of them has spoken of you. You scoff and jump on the balls of your feet.

“Answer the question.” You can see he bites his tongue. “We are paid to protect you, from everyone. But also to report everything you do to Carlos.” It’s Brutis who speaks, you both seem shocked.

“Thank you,” it’s all you say before closing the door. You grab your phone again and call your assistant slash publicist slash just about everything. “Y/N, hello beautiful, what can I do for you?” Her voice is always chirpy but it quickly changes when you ask her what would happen if you didn’t show up to any of your shows.

She chuckles, clearly incredibly nervous by your sudden change of heart. “You’d be blacklisted. Not showing up to Dior? As the opener? Yeah, word will spread and you won’t get another runway job again. Why do you ask?” You can hear her panic about her job. “I signed an NDA.” It’s all you say, you don’t want anyone else’s life being ruined.

You sit back down on the bed. Now you need to think clearly. Why exactly is your brother telling you all this? It can’t be to protect you, because if that was the case then he would’ve done exactly as Carlos said. If he really did care about you, he would’ve tried harder.

Bérenger would’ve told him no, beat Carlos’ ass. But he didn’t, so clearly he doesn’t care too much about you.

So why did he bring this to you? Why else but to hurt you and your relationship. Force a break between you and Carlos. To make sure to ruin your connection with him, so that you’d lose the love of your life. Not only that, but you lose everything. Your new family, the Sainz, your new friends, Alex and Kika, and your career.

You’ve dreamed of tomorrow all your life. To walk down that runway, with all those cameras flashing and people screaming. Your wildest dream was walking for someone like Dior. As a little child, you’d wear your mother’s clothes and put on a little runway show for your siblings. It was one of the few times they’d show some sort of interest.

When you were cooking, you’d always imagine being on a show. Explaining in great detail what you're making and people would love it. People would love you. That’s what you’ve always wanted if you really think about it. To be adored and obsessed over. And that’s what Carlos has given you. He’s given you a world where this is a reality.

You peek behind the curtain and look at all those seats. Then you look at the window outside and see the incredibly long line of people. Much more than the seats put out. An hour. One whole hour before you walk the runway for the very first time. Now just any runway, the Christian Dior runway.

Yes, you spend weeks practising your model walk. You’ve rehearsed this runway three times now. Your outfit is perfect, your hair is perfect, all you’re waiting for now is makeup, jewellery and touch ups. But you can feel your heart in your ears. Yes, you’ve wanted this all your life but now that it’s here, you feel like throwing up.

All those people, watching your every move. They’ll know if you’re breathing too heavily, if you're walking too fast, you’re certain that they can smell fear. And boy are you scared. What if you slip and fall. Then again, Naomi Campbell fell on the runway and that became an iconic moment. But are you as iconic as her? Could you ever live up to her?

What if you sneeze and the whole dress bursts open? What if the dress just falls apart as you walk, leaving you naked for everyone to see? You’d be the laughingstock of the model world. Never again seen on the runway, doomed to forever be remembered as the girl whose dress fell apart. Or the girl who was far too unprofessional for the runway.

“Are you okay?” The makeup artist’s voice snaps you out of your hyperventilation. Your thoughts are torn between two very important things. But really they come together for one big thing, your future. And one question affects both things. Do you still want to be with Carlos? “Yeah, sorry. My mind is just all over the place. Very nervous, my first show.” You shrug and she smiles.

“What usually helps when you're nervous?” His name instantly pops into your mind. “My fiancé. He’s always been my rock.” There hasn’t been a moment since you met him that he hasn’t been there for you. If that’s due to an obsession or love, does it really matter? What really is the difference? What if love isn’t enough for you?

Your parents claimed to love you. Your friends claimed to love you. You claimed to love your job. But all three of those are lost at just the mention of money. Not Carlos. To him, money wasn’t even an object. He didn’t care if you got your new shoes dirty or never wore something his money bought. Because to him, there’s always more money but not more of you.

“Speaking of…” the make-up artist’s eyes glance to one of the side entrances. His hair is always something you notice first. You hope he never loses it, even if he goes completely grey. Then it’s the crinkle in his brow, he’s always so worried. Then the way his eyes scan the room, always looking for you. It’s not that he always wants you by his side, it’s just that he wants you safe.

He’s by your side before you can even blink. His hands fit into yours, and like always you reach for the other. “Mi amor, please let me explain.” He’s down on his knees, opening himself up to vulnerability. So many people here could take a photo at any time. But he doesn’t care, he just thinks about you and keeping you.

“Carlos, I can’t do this.” His eyes go big and he shakes his head. “No, no please mi amor. I love you, I can’t lose you. I know some actions to protect you might have been a bit… unorthodox but it all came out of love.” You chuckle and kiss his forehead. “I know and you’re right. Good riddance, I mean. If they gave me up that easily, for that little amount, then I’m better off without them.”

His face lights up and he gives you his charming smile. “You mean it?” You nod and smile, “What I can’t do, is this show. Ask Ava here, I’ve been hyperventilating this whole time. I’m sure she’s so annoyed with me.” The girl gives an uncomfortable chuckle, likely more worried about her job than yours.

He stands up and rubs your shoulders. “Don’t worry, handle it like you do the paparazzi. Because you handle it better than any celebrity that I’ve ever seen.” He holds back your hair, keeping it out of Ava’s way, still gentle enough not to ruin the style. You laugh, it feels like so long ago now, your first real encounter with fans.

“Will you be watching?” “Of course, imagine it’s just me in the audience. Just you and me.”

“Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Junior, ¡ven aquí ahora mismo o llamaré a tu padre! Quieres decepcionar a papá? Porque si lo haces no podrás venir más a las carreras.” I can’t help but laugh, hearing my wife scold my eldest.

He’s likely run off again trying to find me or Lando or even Charles. It’s nice to hear her speak Spanish. As soon as we found out she was pregnant, she began learning immediately. And she picked it up quick.

“I am shaking in my boots.” Her eyes shine seeing me. Clearly, she’s tired, but still, she is glowing. “Papa!” The little man runs up to me at full speed. His Ferrari shirt is still too big for him at four. But he does insist he’s a big many and doesn’t need the baby sizes. “Are you being naughty? Didn’t I say we must always listen to Mama?”

His wide smile falls, “I’m sorry, papa,” I hate seeing him upset like this. But he does need to know that what she says goes. “You know what they say, happy wife happy life.” Charles comes up behind me, tickling Junior making him cry out in giggles. He then greets Y/N and picks up one of the twins. Also tickling his feet as the other is as always perched on my wife’s hip.

“Aw man, this is why I love the Spanish GP so much,” Charles comments and I can hear my beautiful wife laugh again. “What? To admire my family?” He nods with a smile, “You know it.” I can’t help but shake my head. “Ai, no, get your own.” Charles just rolls his eyes at my shenanigans before he is called away.

I place Junior down, telling him to sit tight. I then bend down and rub her swollen belly. “How are you, mi amor? How is our girl treating you?” She sighs and her fingers find my hair.

“She’s much nicer to me than these two were. But you know how it is when we get to the eight month mark.” I coo and kiss her head. I love seeing her swollen like this. Hands full with our children, in the role I have chosen for her.

“What’s on your mind?” She’s so warm and I just can’t keep anything from her. When she wasn’t pregnant it was hard to say no. Now, it’s basically impossible. “I think I should retire…” Her brows furrow and her bottom lip pops out. It’s no wonder where Junior gets it from. “I have a championship behind my back and this year is looking like another…”

She shrugs and then nods, “You’re his hero, you know? I just don’t want to break that bubble for him.” I sigh, placing my head on her round stomach. The baby kicks my chin and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m 38, mi amor, my contract ends this year. I don’t want to miss more of my kids growing up.” She holds my face in her hands, this is what I imagine heaven would be like.

“I’ll support you all the way.” I nod and give her a kiss. She pulls Elija, the youngest closer to her. They’re just over a year old. “Look who’s the main breadwinner now.” Elija just babbles on as a reply. This is more than enough for me.

She’s mine, all mine. Three beautiful kids with one on the way. A championship to my name. There is nothing else I could want.

The End.

I just want to quickly add, that this story was written before the Epstein list came out. If the mention of Noami Campbell is too much, please, please tell me so, so that I can delete the mention of her immediately. But like,,,, I'm just a girl and idk what to do 🤷 please tell me what to do😭 Okay, love you bye <3

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

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aalghul · 7 months ago

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Okay, I’ve been emboldened by your recent assertion that you don’t bite and differences in opinions are okay. I also have a genuine question for you. Mine is re: Roy and Jason. It is my understanding that pre new 52 Roy fell in love with and made a baby with a literal assassin. I’ve seen so many references from Roy fans that given Roy’s pre new 52 characterization, he could/would never become friends with Red Hood Jason. I am unable to square the circle of that reasoning in my mind, given his history with Jade/Chesire. If you were interested on espousing on this topic, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Roy and Jade's relationship never lasted in the end (despite how desperately they've loved each other) because she would not give up that life and he could not compromise on someone that close to him killing. Roy is more than willing of working with and even understanding people who use lethal force (I think I've mentioned a few times that him teaming up with Jason temporarily would work for that reason), but he can't be heavily involved with that person long term, in any way. He's an incredibly flexible character when it comes to the types of people he can get along with, and he has more love and understanding in his heart than most. But Roy draws a line for himself. He couldn't even stay in the outsiders long term because he belongs where the traditional heroes are. You can see where the difficulty is in trying to make Jason and Roy best friends, or even in carrying out a team-up as long term as RHATO.

Separate from the morality conflict, Roy also has a specific dynamic with many people younger than him that I think we forget to take into account. His interactions with people noticeably younger than him (while he was in his mid-late 20s) generally seem to follow him trying to be a leader and guiding figure, with the younger person learning from him. His friendships with those people is rarely ever the same as the friendship he has with people his own age. Jason's ~7 years younger than Roy, and is around 19-21 in the years after UTRH. That would make 26-28. Roy's experienced fatherhood at this point, he had relationships and ups and downs and established a place for himself in the hero community. Jason is a teenager who's really only just now realizing there's a life ahead of him. Any dynamic they have will need to take all of that into account. This is a huge part of why they don't work as each other's best friends.

I know you didn't ask for that last bit, but I was thinking about it a while ago and I don't think we talk about it enough. It's just as much of an issue with Roy and Jason being best friends, or anything along that line, as morality is.

If you see more aggressive assertions about how Roy would hate Jason, then that's probably frustration more than anything. Roy's entire character has been replaced by for the sake of Jason and Roy's RHATO dynamic. It's not surprising that anger makes people exaggerate or believe that because they're so personally sick of seeing it. I understand that and honestly, if Roy was my favourite character, I'd never want to hear about Jason near him either lol

#or maybe the whole mia fiasco in seeing red because it would make sense for roy to be angry at someone messing with his little sister's head #(but roy is a pretty sympathetic person and jason didn't actually want to hurt her so he still wouldn't hate him imo)#they could have a friendship and bond (esp bc roy met jason when jason was a kid! he's seen how jason's changed and roy would understand #that jason's been through a lot) but it can never be the type of friendship roy has for ex the fab five #and sidenote: i should word things nicer. im so sorry if 17 yr old me was a little bit evil #turtle mail #jason todd #roy harper

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erisenyo · 2 months ago

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You asked for prompts, so here's one that's been rattling around my head: The dynamic of Ma/Zhu/Baoxiang post series has got to make for something interesting, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!

For @radiantemperorweek for...a late Day 2, "haunted"?

He doesn’t let himself know how many years it’s been, when the Emperor finally comes for him.

“Wang Baoxiang,” the Hongwe Emperor says.

“Zhu Yuanzhang,” he replies, since apparently they’re using names that don’t exist anymore, and perhaps E—perhaps others have been correct, that he’s never known when to stay quiet.

The Emperor flashes a sharp, toothy grin and steps into his tiny room without waiting for an invitation. Not that he needs one, not that the sluggish impulse to extend one came in time. The Emperor glances around the cramped space, taking in the barely-existent window and tiny cluttered desk, the angle of his head insect-like and the sheer vigorous energy of his presence filling the space enough to choke on.

Baoxiang stares at Zhu’s eyes—he’d almost made himself believe that he’d imagined the bulging intensity of them—and forces himself to breath like his body isn’t already starting to shiver with coming fear, his throat tight with anticipation, expectation, waiting—

“You’ve come to kill me,” Baoxiang finally says when he can’t take it any longer, vaguely aware of his nails biting into his palms, of the grime embedded beneath them.

Zhu hums without glancing up from the careful, simple, plain-charactered scroll Baoxiang is ready to deliver tomorrow morning, and Baoxiang remembers in the manner of one searching for the river bottom beneath his toes that Zhu Yuanzhang was a monk, once, before everything. “Well, I do know some consider Spring in the Yingtian a fate worth than death. But I find it rather invigorating, personally. It really makes you feel.”

Baoxiang can see the differences in her now that the wave of dull, so-it’s-finally-come-has-it shock has retreated into something closer to resignation, something more like relief than Baoxiang cares for even as that reflexive fear trembles in his fingertips, in his bowels, the instinct to beg, to plead, to curl into a ball and give in and go limp…

It’s the extra age on Zhu’s face, maybe, more than just sev—more than just the passing years’ worth. Or perhaps the thread of more measured consideration beneath the restless energy, a well of weary calm. Or perhaps it’s just that the watchfulness is easier to see than it used to be, less concealed, or Baoxiang just more used to recognizing—

“Wait.” Baoxiang straightens. “Yingtian?”

Zhu gives him an amused look from where she’s poking at a scroll that really should remain private. “That is still where the imperial seat resides. I’m sure news out here isn’t that slow.”

It is not so much that Baoxiang has felt dulled and hollow, slow, ever since—it’s not that he almost feels purposefully slow, some days, trying not to listen for news—

It’s not so much Baoxiang, as the absurdity of the implication, that it takes him so long to put it together. “You want to bring me to the Capital?” Zhu just gives him a patient look, lips switching into a smile, and under other circumstances Baoxiang might be needled enough to snap back, but, “For my execution?”

Zhu raises her eyebrows, a single glance seeming to point to Baoxiang’s lack of weapon, and uselessly frail body even if he had one, his isolation when surely there are guards outside, as if the Hongwe Emperor would need them, as if Boaxiang could ever hope to best even a one-handed— “Should I have to transport you, to kill you?”

Baoxiang considers the number of elaborate, lengthy, well-attended executions that used to take place in Dadu, and holds his tongue.

“Why, then,” he finally asks, distantly aware of his heart pounding hard enough to make him want to vomit and wishing in that dull, achy way that he still had elaborate sleeves to fuss with, jewelry to flash. “If not—I have no hostage value.”

Zhu gives him an interested, intrigued look. “No?” she asks, finally facing him and somehow seeming to perch even standing, and Baoxiang feels like an old, worn part of himself is trying to slip grave-cold back into his skin.

Wariness has him holding his hands carefully flat, his face carefully still—Zhu’s face flashes with amusement, and Baoxiang quickly rearranges it from something vaguely disdainful into neutrality. It’s like he can sense the pieces on the board just waiting for him to turn his head, like he can feel the threads he could grip and tug and pull, warp and weft, like his fingers are already shaping around an ink brush he can wield more precisely than any sw— “You sent me away.”

Zhu shrugs. “Apparently not permanently.”

Baoxiang stares, refusing to think the name he knows despite his best efforts and trying not to shake with the feeling of having missed something critical, of having miscalculated, of standing in front of the Prince of Henan with that old venomous sharpness rising up in his veins, the urge to strike back the only way— “Why would I come back.”

Another shrug, a shockingly coy look on a face such as that, and that venomous thing pulses at the sense of being played with. “Seyhan is there.”

He would be, Baoxiang barely stops himself from saying with a boiling rush of emotion like he hasn’t felt since—He would be. Seyhan was always devoted, in his way, and Baoxiang feels like some wriggling thing batting between a hunting cat’s paws, the urge to press for more—is he a secretary, still, a tutor, is he well, has he grown, does he look like—subsuming into a desperate, seething rage at being set up to ask.

“Seyhan,” he says, voice rough as if with screaming, entire body taut. “That’s all you have to offer me?”

The Emperor’s head slowly tilts, his shifting, restless energy suddenly giving way to utter stillness, and Baoxiang gulps around the sensation of having been walked to the edge of a cliff. “ ‘Offer’,” the Emperor echoes, slow, the kind of intent Baoxiang learned as a child to fear suddenly filling the room, “And who else is left, that I would offer you?”

Who, not what, a strike as effective as any fist. And maybe, Baoxiang thinks as he is unable to stop himself from baring the teeth against the pain of it—never able to stop, no matter how Ese—maybe this is the only way this Emperor can strike, these days, finding himself still lacking the usual number of fists to strike with.

But to a man used to armies at his back, to allies, when Baoxiang had been used to always, always, being so painfully alone…

“And I am solely to blame, for that?” Baoxiang hears himself asking as if dining with the Prince of Henan, his voice polite, eyebrow arched, the type of invitation to continue giving Baoxiang openings stab into that used to have Ouyang’s face twisting with fury, and his father’s jaw tightening and the Emperor—

The Emperor looks across the long, still silence at him.

Then Zhu huffs, gesturing with her missing hand as if to purposefully draw attention to it, that toothy, quick smile back on her face. “I am not asking for myself, of course.” Baoxiang does manage to restrain himself, this time, perhaps because his heart has taken up residence in his throat. “I find myself, as all Emperor’s do, at some point, in need of an heir.”

It takes Baoxiang a long moment to realize the rusty, jagged noise filling his small room is his own laughter. “An heir,” he repeats, practically spitting the word. “You want me—”

“Not you,” Zhu huffs.

As if he believes she ever thought he’d think otherwise. “Of course not,” Baoxiang agrees, venomous. “And so it really does all come back to needing to stick your dick into something when you don’t have one.”

The Emperor gives him a sharp look, one Baoxiang is more than familiar with, anger and dislike and the desire to be anywhere but with him and—

“You already have,” Baoxiang says, entire body tense enough it feels he might snap, “an heir.” And he has not heard news—he has not listened but surely—if something had happened—

“We’ve seen,” Zhu says after a moment, smiling, magnanimous, “what happens when there’s only one of them.” And oh, Baoxiang thinks, struggling to breathe, perhaps the Hongwe Emperor does know how to play this game, too, or at least has learned it.

“And so the greater Emperor of the Ming has come all this way,” Baoxiang finally says, rough, “because you want me to be your stud.” Again, he swallows back, not that it won’t be heard.

“Well,” she shrugs, flashing another of those grins, “I never did learn to ride like Ouy—”

“And you expect me to actually believethat you would trust me to do it?” Baoxiang cuts in, suspicion blooming through his chest. “I’m to believe you would choose me? What, for my manliness? My vigor?”

“You don’t have to believe anything about me,” Zhu says mildly as if she didn’t raise a resistance and topple an empire on the power of belief. “As for mybelief—I was informed that my trust in you was also not required,” she says, wry, “as it is not me you would be bedding.”

Baoxiang is not slow, this time. In a breath he finds himself drowning. Buffeted by memories of her, and of the pleasure he used to find in her arms. Of who he used to be, that person who could have that, who could find such simple, joyous pleasure in another. Who could give it and receive it in turn and oh, the idea that he could even for a moment becomeagain someone who...

The thought is too much like more, for one such as him. Too much like hoping, when hope has never treated him well, or kindly.

Baoxiang’s body is tight with the familiar feeling of inevitability, lungs tight as if full of water, as he finally says, “And what happens if I say no?”

He has the brief satisfaction of seeing surprise flash over Zhu’s face, the expression somehow exaggerated, comical even, on her features. “Will you?” she asks curiously, as if it doesn’t matter, as if the Emperor of the Ming would travel all this way to accept a denial.

“You’ll what, kill me?” It’s dangerous knowledge for one such as him. One who travels, who scribes, who pass gossip and print mockeries, who knows how to wield a finely crafted word and Baoxiang remembers well enough just how easy it was, back then, to fan the flames of rumor. “Try to use the child against me?”

Zhu gives him a long, level look, and Baoxiang wishes suddenly, intensely, that he was as he used to be, not as he is now. Someone who could meet that look and not feel so flayed open, so evaluated and picked over and seen without his permission. He wishes he had ever been that person.

“I don’t think I would choose to release you from this, no,” Zhu finally says, eyes flicking around the hovel, and Baoxiang burns, resentment seething thick and familiar in his chest as the Emperor’s gaze lingers just past Baoxiang’s shoulder where he knows nothing at all is there, nothing except his ghosts. “And I don’t think you need more chains than you have.”

Baoxiang swallows the bitter, old urge to turn and look, to try to catch a glimpse that he knows is not there, was never there. He feels as if his face has been shoved into the acrid, bitter smoke of a poorly made cookfire. “So there is no choice.”

Zhu gives him another long look, thoughtful this time. “There is always,” she finally says, “a choice.”

Baoxiang glares, clenching his useless fists and his chest aching, hollow, like an old, sucking wound. Choice—as if the requests of an Emperor have ever allowed for such a thing. As if Baoxiang has ever had the luxury of it, has ever had that power, has ever done anything but run ahead of his fate ever since he first chose it.

“Some would say I’m foolish, to offer you this,” Zhu suddenly says, a self-deprecating twist on her lips and her tone making it clear she knows Baoxiang would number among them.

It’s an invitation, a hand extended in mutual understanding, and Baoxiang circles it, wary as he would be of any offered hand. “They would be correct.”

Zhu nods like it doesn’t bother her. “But we have both, I think, seen what comes of doing what must be done. Of what is supposed to be done.” She looks down at her stump, not even hidden in her sleeve, and Baoxiang shudders. “And,” the Emperor adds, glancing around the barely-upright excuse for a structure Baoxiang is currently occupying, “I think we have both seen what comes of refusing to accept what we are told.” The Emperor’s flaying, bulging gaze comes back to him. “Of trying something different.”

Baoxiang swallows, feeling like he might shake out of his skin if he has to respond.

“And so for Yiingzi’s sake,” Zhu Yuanzhang says, “We will refuse to accept what we are told, and we will try something different once more.” A cricket-like cock of her head. “Yes?”

Baoxiang stares, feeling—too much.

Zhu studies him another moment, finally adding, so wry and fond and exasperated that Baoxiang feels like this is what it must be like to be run through, “Yingzi would prefer not to see war again, if she can help it.”

An impossible dream, Baoxiang doesn’t say. Impossible to even wish for, let alone speak aloud, let alone hopefor. Let alone ask of an Emperor to deliver to her.

“And it might be nice, wouldn’t it, to sleep again,” Zhu says softly, and Baoxiang longs for it, misses it almost as much as he misses—sometimes imagines he actually has it and rouses bitter to find that it was just a pale imitation, just the haze of formless, taunting dreams that allowed him to even more a moment believe he was once again at peace.

Baoxiang doesn’t ask how Yuanzhang could possibly know such a thing, because Baoxiang knows exactly how, and to hear it said aloud… “You took my throne,” Baoxiang says instead, hoarse.

Another cock of her head. “You killed my friend.” The Emperor holds up his handless forearm as if to admire it, and brings his manifest blazing to life. “So perhaps we are even,” he says from within the brilliance of it, Baoxiang finally blinking the blur from his eyes to find himself alone once more in his single room, feet still sore and hand aching from scribing and face sun-crisped from the radiance.

#post-canon characterization: turns out its hard when everyone is operating in 12 layers of deceit and self-deception!#Baoxiang: this Emperor is a man named Zhu who is a lady #Zhu: just being a silly little haha guy who can kill you oopsie!#asks and answers #fic writing #my writing #the radiant emperor #REW2024 #zhu chongba #wang baoxiang #lady ma #Seyhan #he gets a mention too!

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